#and now this is coming back to bite us in the ass

[nottswitch]

— if you’ve been naughty, you get…

──────────── 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞.─

summary: they say that the way you spend the new year’s night is the way you’re going to spend the whole year. you never took this expression to heart until now.

pairing: theo nott x reader

cw: 18+ smut, enemies to lovers, fingering, rough p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex, degrading/praise, cursing, italian pet names

wc: 2.1k

a/n: getting back to kinkmas at last !! enjoy some etl theodore filth babes <3

» navigation ; masterlist ; theo m.list ; kinkmas 2024

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You had absolutely no idea how you ended up at the same party as the guy whose entire goal in life was to make yours as difficult as possible. To be entirely honest, you weren’t any better – your taunting seemed to mirror his in its viciousness, for no apparent reason on both sides. Somewhere, at one point, everything went to shit with you two. At first, it used to cause tensions in the friend group, because you just couldn’t stop constantly bickering and throwing all kinds of insults at each other, but over time, your inexplicable apprehension towards each other became a constant – a very annoying one, but a constant nonetheless.

Pansy promised. She promised that the New Year’s Eve party would stay Theodore Nott-free, he had some prior commitment, blah-blah-blah – irrelevant. Because right now, you were looking straight at his infuriating face as he was pressing you against the wall, his deep ocean eyes you couldn’t admit to finding captivating staring into yours. The sounds of the party were muffled, the beat of the music dully thumping through the narrow corridor, sending faint vibrations through the floor.

“You just couldn’t leave me alone, could you?” you hissed, crossing your arms on your chest in a manner that you hoped would come off as defiant, even though you knew it was a defense – same thing, different flavor.

Theo smirked – the smirk that always made your blood boil, a sign that he was enjoying himself way more than he should have.

“How could I ever leave you alone, tesoro?” he drawled, his voice mocking yet carrying a hint of intensity that you had never heard there before. Then again, with him, you could’ve easily just imagined it. “But if I had to guess, I’d say you can’t stay away from me either. And I wouldn’t be that far off, no?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at his cockiness – it was in no way a surprise, yet it still made your irritation rise to the very top, bubbling up and threatening to escape in the form of another quip.

“Get your head out of your ass, Nott,” you muttered, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

“Nott?” Theo taunted in response, leaning in just a bit closer – and that tiny little bit made your heart skip a beat, which you found to be a completely uncalled-for reaction. “Last time I checked, I was ‘Theo, please, faster!’.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

You hated the way your cheeks instantly flushed at his reminder – you did not need to remember that night when your entire composure crumbled to pieces, and you ended up in his bed, screaming his name so loud the walls were nearly shaking.

And you felt like you were on the brink of doing it again.

“If you insist,” Theo murmured, his lips now at your ear, nearly brushing against your skin – the bastard knew exactly how to get to you, unfortunately. You gritted your teeth, trying to resist for a fleeting moment, but when his hand slipped onto your waist, you gave up – and in.

“I hate you,” you whispered, roughly grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a heated kiss. Theo didn’t even gasp, which made a nasty thought spark up in your mind – he’d been waiting for this all along, and it probably wouldn’t be too far-fetched to guess that it was the only reason he came to the party in the first place. The kiss was all tongue and teeth, a stark mirror to the contradictory feelings you both shared – biting, rough around the edges, yet at the core of it there was passion that neither of you could bother to deny.

In a matter of seconds, both of Theo’s hands were on your hips, effortlessly lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your hands flew up to his shoulders, breaking the self-imposed physical barrier of your arms across your chest and also symbolizing the last bits of your composure withering away. Theo knew – he had to have known – that this would happen, because his palm was at the ready, closing around your breast as soon as it was free to touch. He kneaded the softness of your flesh, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip as his hips started slowly but firmly rocking against you. You felt his hard, already throbbing cock pressing into your clothed pussy, and once again, you were somewhat amused by his ability to get hard in seconds.

“Been like this all night, bambina,” Theo murmured into your mouth, as if hearing your thoughts out loud. So, not in seconds. “The moment I saw you in this dress… Fuck.”

His other hand gripped the hem of your sparkly red dress, lifting it up just enough for it to bunch up at your waist. His eyes flicked down for a moment, a needy growl escaping his mouth as he took in the sight of your fishnets doing a very poor job at covering up the red lace of your panties.

“Wore these for me?” he asked teasingly, although his hoarse voice completely betrayed the fact that he was insanely aroused. His fingers traced the edge of the lace with an almost reverent touch before hooking through the hole of your fishnets and suddenly tearing them apart.

Your eyes widened, not quite expecting the roughness, but you knew you should have – Theo wasn’t known to be a patient man when it came to getting what he carnally desired, and at the moment, the object of that desire was you.

“What the–” you started, but he quickly shut you up with a kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and swirling around, effectively making you moan. The sound only got louder as you felt his fingers sliding over your panties, savoring the wetness that started to seep through the fabric; he wasn’t the only one with a one track mind since the start of the party – the sight of him in his dark green dress shirt, three buttons at the top undone, caught your eye as soon as he stepped into the room.

“Such a wet little pussy for me, huh?” he whispered breathlessly into your mouth, rubbing a circle over your clothed core before easily slipping underneath – the feeling of your soft, drenched skin made him groan, perfectly matching your own sounds. “Wish I could keep you like this all the time… So fucking pliant…”

And shit, you wouldn’t be able to deny his words even if you tried – you were pliant under his touch, you did turn into melted butter as soon as his index and middle finger slipped inside you, you did clench your thighs around his waist as he started pumping in and out. He was just as pliant, though – you could tell by the way his cock was poking into your inner thigh, straining against the fabric of his trousers. If you had half a mind to look down, you would see a wet spot forming at the front, clear evidence of the fact that he wanted you with the same ever-consuming intensity.

You grew a bit bolder, the pleasure making your brain turn off and forget all about your surroundings or the consequences of your encounter. Your hand traveled down, grabbing Theo’s cock and giving it a firm squeeze, as if to remind him that he was as crazy about you as you were about him. A groan fanned against your ear at the small yet impactful action – a satisfying sound of Theo’s need. His fingers curled inside you before sliding out with a wet pop. The next moment, your juices were being spread all over your lips, mixing with your gloss and creating a strange, sticky texture of sweetness mixed with the tartness of your natural slick. You parted your mouth, letting Theo’s fingers in, your lips wrapping around them and starting to suck, lightly, teasingly, as your hand continued palming his cock.

“Playing with the damn fire, tesoro,” Theo warned in a hiss, taking your hand off of him impatiently. “Naughty, naughty girl.”

In response, you only started sucking more, your head moving back and forth on his fingers. Theo’s eyes were fixed intently on your lips, no doubt imagining them wrapped around something else. He hastily unzipped his trousers with his free hand, pulling them down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxers. His erection sprung free, slapping against his shirt-covered stomach. You glanced down, feeling even more turned on as you drank in the sight of his swollen, throbbing cock, knowing that it would be splitting you open very very soon.

And it did. Oh, gods, it did. With a single thrust, Theo entered, his tip immediately reaching your cervix. You moaned around his fingers, your eyes rolling back at the mixture of pain and pleasure – the feelings he could easily elicit in you, both physically and emotionally.

He wasn’t holding back, not in the slightest – his pace was rough and unrelenting, fucking all his frustrations of the last year into you. Your back was moving up and down against the wall, the heated surface scratching your skin, your high heels digging into the small of his back each time he pounded. He didn’t mind the sting, though, just like you didn’t mind the dull ache of his hand digging into your hip, without a doubt leaving marks. Finally, his fingers left your mouth and grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you into yet another sloppy mess that could be called a kiss.

The combined sounds of your moans almost drowned out the chatter of the party, but still, you could faintly hear the crowd starting to chant the countdown to the New Year. You pulled away, ignoring Theo’s disappointed whine for a second, trying to hold back on your own noises as you listened.

“The count– The countdown,” you shakily breathed out, meeting Theo’s glossed-over eyes with your misty gaze. He groaned and shook his head, a clear indication that he wasn’t going to stop, not until you were both panting and sweating.

“Who gives a fuck?” he asked in the same breathless voice as yours, his cock somehow reaching even deeper spots, as if trying to coax any stray thoughts out of your head. “What, scared you’re not getting a New Year’s kiss?”

His ability to tease you even as he was balls deep inside of you made you want to slap him, hard. You almost did it, if only you had the strength to move your limbs.

“Yeah, wanted to make a wish,” you tried to retort, your words sounding less convincing than you’d like them to be. “To never see your stupid face again.”

“Oh really? And here I was, about to wish for your charming self every day.”

You would have rolled your eyes at his usual mocking, but they ended up rolling for a completely different reason as Theo pounded into you with an especially rough thrust at the ‘three’ sounding from the main party room.

At the ‘two’, one of his hands was on your cheek, his thumb pressing into the tender flesh. His eyes were fixed on yours again, the intensity from before making you question if there was any truth behind his words.

At the ‘one’, your lips were crashing together once again as the orgasm washed over the both of you, accompanied by the fireworks blowing up outside. Red bursts of light coming from the window on the other side of the corridor cast your flickering shadows onto the wall, the beautiful sight in the sky barely registering in your fucked out mind. The only thing you could feel at the moment was the warmth of Theo’s cum slowly starting to trickle down your thighs, staining Theo’s pants in the process.

“You know,” he murmured, hoarse and panting, his dampened forehead resting against yours, “you make really nice sounds when I’m fucking you brainless, tesoro. I’ll make sure they’re the only ones you’re making with me all year long.”

You breathed out a small chuckle, closing your eyes as you started to come down from the high you were both still stuck on.

“Is that a threat or a promise, Theo?”

“Both, baby. Both.”

[xoxxbilliexoxx]

Pathetic

Brat Tamer Billie degrades and dominates you to put you back in your place after you decide to push the boundaries

established relationship, strap (r receiving), degradation, bratty reader, Daddy kink, Spit play, Light slapping, multiple orgasms, Billie cums from using the strap, loving aftercare

roughly 5000 words

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Y/N POV

We’ve been laying on the couch for about an hour now, when I finally get the strength to get up and throw away our take out containers before heading towards the bedroom and calling out to Billie that I’m changing into something more comfy. Once I shut the door behind me I feel a nervousness creep up from my stomach. I strip naked and pull out the night gown from my bag, throwing it on and walking to the bathroom. My boobs spill out of the red lace and the bottom ends before my ass does. Without any underwear on, my pussy can easily be seen with any slight movement I make.

As I look in the mirror I feel my confidence build. Feeling sexy always leaves me feeling powerful too, like it awakens a completely different version of myself. I mess up my hair slightly and put on my favorite lipstick, matching with the deep red, almost wine color of my slutty dress. I take one last look at myself, unable to stop from smiling at how hot I feel, before I head towards the door of the bedroom. Billie has yet to meet this version of me, and she’s in for quite a treat.

I walk out and return to the living room as if nothing has changed, completely ignoring Billie’s intense reaction. Her mouth stays hanging open as her eyes follow my every move. She sits up taller and her hand moves to adjust the crotch of her sweatpants, as if her dick just got hard or something. I walk in front of the couch, slow enough to let Billie get a good look at me and head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water before returning to the living room. I set the glass down but before I return to my spot on the couch I walk over to grab a blanket from the basket. My back is towards Billie allowing her to get a full view of my bare pussy as I bend down. A loud groan fills the room coming from the couch behind me and I let out a small giggle before composing myself and walking back to the couch.

Billie’s body stays frozen as her eyes follow me closely. her bottom lip is caught so tight between her teeth it looks as if she’s about to break skin. She shuffles uncomfortably on the couch, as if it’s taking everything in her not to pounce on me already. I sit down next to her, continuing to watch the movie as if nothing has changed. When I feel Billie’s eyes stuck to me like glue I turn and raise my eyebrows at her. “What are you looking at?” I snap at her, a confident sass coming through in my words. “what do you mean, what am I looking at? I’m looking at how fucking hot you look in that slutty little night gown you just put on for me” She bites her lip again and moves towards me, waiting for me to take action or submit to her like usual.

I don’t do either of those things though. Instead, I let my brattiness build. “Put on for you?” I add a questioning tone to you, dragging it out to add emphasis, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Billie” She looks at me with a pained expression, like it’s hurting her that she isn’t touching me yet. Enjoying her needy discomfort, I cross one leg over the other, pulling the gown up and letting my pussy peek out again, only making the situation grow more tense.

Billie looks me up and down with an intensely hungry desire in her eyes. It makes my own arousal surge through me. “Fuck baby you’re too goddamn hot. Come give me a kiss I need you” I look at her with a tight smirk and let my response come out quick and sharp, “no.” My devilish expression hits her once again before I look back at the movie, my confidence and pride showing clearly in my eyes.

I see Billie’s tongue darting against the inside of her cheek as her eyes drink me in. She doesn’t speak for a moment, looking as if she’s deciding what to do next. I keep my slightly evil smirk displayed across my face and bring my hand up to stroke my thigh, scratching my skin lightly. I feel Billie’s eyes glued to me, it feels as if they’re burning a hole through me. Knowing I’m egging her on and teasing her with this new side of myself makes the power and enjoyment only build within me.

Billie shifts towards me, kissing my cheek first then grabbing my chin, pulling me in to meet her lips. I know her intention was a long, hot kiss, but instead I just peck her lips and go back to the movie. I try to settle my own discomfort and growing desire, wanting so badly to kiss her passionately, but I know holding out will only make things better in the long run. I want to be a brat first, I wanna push her buttons and see where that gets me. “mmmm, I see what you’re doing mama” Her tongue finds the inside of her cheek again as she looks at me through hooded eyes.

I look back at her to show my smug expression before turning away. Her hands find my chin, wrapping around it hard and pushing my lips together slightly, she moves my head until my eyes meet hers “This sexy outfit makin you feel confident huh? makin you think you can be all bratty and see what I’m gunna do about it?” I bite my lip and look up at her, a devilish sparkle in my eyes, “Seems like it’s working” I laugh back at her before continuing to tease, “seems like you’re getting real worked up over this Eilish” I let my words come out with a strong confidence and a flirtatious tone, my smirk never leaving my face.

She looks slightly stunned at my continued attitude and pauses for a moment to think. Her tongue slides against her teeth as she shakes her head just slightly. “get up and go get on the bed, I’ll show you what I’m gunna do about it” her words are direct and her dominance starts to come out more intensely, causing a shiver to trickle down my spine and hit my core. I swallow quietly before composing myself, not letting her win just yet. She’s standing above me now, looking down at my small frame on the couch in front of her. I look up at her and bite my lip with a smile, moving my hair behind my ear and tilting my head slightly to the side. “and what if I don’t? what then?” the words come out thick with attitude, I’m loving this and it’s very obvious.

That was her last straw. She reaches down and wraps her hand around my throat, pulling me in for a heated kiss, immediately establishing her dominance before pulling away, pleased with herself.bBending down, she wraps her hands around my ass and lifts me, carrying me into the bedroom as I yell from the sudden actions.

I’m thrown onto the bed hard. Opening my eyes after my landing I watch Billie grab her shirt and pull it off forcefully. Opening her mouth she lets out a short laugh before speaking, “put this slutty little outfit on to tease me then u wanna act like a brat? think ur not gunna get punished for it, huh? think I'm just gunna let you get away with that? Is that what you thought?” I nod with a slight giggle, although it feels impossible to distinguish if it’s a bratty giggle or a slightly fearful one. My bratty behavior and direct attitude has pulled a stronger dominance from her, like she’s about to make me sorry for acting like this, and fuck, I feel so hungry for it, so so needy for it.

I need to see how far she’ll go, how far she’ll let me push her before she really lets me have it. “Well what are you gunna do about it? Pace around and bitch to me?” I laugh after I speak, a mischievous expression directed right at Billie as she turns to face me after shutting the door. “You think you’re cute huh?” “very cute, yea” I snap back at her quicker than she expects.

Billie crawls over me on the bed, her hand finds my hair and the handful she quickly grabs is so tight it pulls my head back with it. A deep groan rips from my throat. She lets out a mocking laugh down at me before connecting her lips with mine. Shoving her tongue in my mouth, she makes it extremely clear who’s in control here. She’s not messing around anymore, I finally pushed her to her breaking point and I know I’m in for it.

As she pulls away she looks down at me, her eyes are dark and her evil, power hungry smile forces me to swallow. “Open your mouth, brat” She whispers her command down at me, her voice is low and raspy, far more dark and seductive than usual. I do as I’m told, opening my mouth and sticking my tongue out slightly as I look up at her. She leans down, our lips almost touching, and as she opens her own mouth she lets all her spit drip down onto my tongue before taking her hand and grabbing my chin, pushing it up for my mouth to shut. “Swallow daddys spit” I swallow hard. Her words, calling herself daddy, her spit sliding down my throat, it's all causing my pussy to gush. “ yea, that's right, there ya go” I snap back into my role, trying to come up with a bratty response to throw back at Billie.

All I can come up with is a quick snicker and a dramatic eye roll, the smirk only half formed from her hand tightly squeezing my lower jaw. But my actions seem to get to her just the same. Her tongue rolls against her check as she squeezes my jaw harder. “let’s see how long that cute bratty attitude will last when im fucking the shit outta you. need to fuck that slutty brattiness right out of you huh?” Her hand, still holding my jaw and chin hard, moves my head to the side as she lowers her head down, latching her lips onto my neck and biting as soon as she makes contact, pulling a long whimper from my lips.

I can feel myself losing control, the need to be touched growing too strong to hide. I let my hips move up, searching for something to grind against, anything to relieve the intense throbbing between my legs. Her hand leaves my jaw and lands harshly against my hips, stopping me from moving immediately. The painful grip and the lack of contact on my clit makes me whine again, the brattiness slowly slipping away. “Already so whiny for me? What happened to that little attitude of yours? Gone so soon baby?”

I try to move under her, try to get her hand to meet my dripping core, but she holds me down harder, laughing at my failed attempts. “I thought you were gunna fuck the brat outta me, come on baby, lemme have it, lemme see you try to punish me” Her hand immediately slaps my face, hard enough to stun me but gently enough to show she doesn’t want to hurt me, she doesn’t want to push me too far, still unsure of what I’m into.

But the slap only makes me moan louder, loving the harsh contact and angry dominance she’s beginning to show me. “Be patient. you don’t get to tell me what to do. Brats don’t get what they want right away” My heavy breathing fills the room, acting as a clear display of just how turned on she's gotten me, just how much I’m loving this. Her lips find my neck again, covering me with bites and bruises as I continue to whine and moan. She’s careful not to lean down on me, she won’t let herself connect with my core, won’t give me what I want yet.

Instead she begins to tease me. Her hands find their way to my inner thighs, grazing my skin softly. Each time she moves up, almost touching where I need her most, she pulls away again, laughing at every one of my whimpers. “Who’s got you so worked up, hmm? Who’re you bein such a slut for?” Her words tickle the sensitive skin on my neck before she bites down again. “You daddy, it's all for you” She groans when she hears her nickname. “Atta girl” Her head snakes down my body, finally heading to my throbbing center.

As she pulls my gown up higher, fully exposing me, she spreads my legs and growls, swallowing as soon as she sees how wet she has made me. “There’s my pretty fuckin pussy. lookin like it’s just begging to get fucked.” My back arches, my body finding any way to express how bad I need her right now, how painfully needy I am to be touched, to be fucked by her.

Her fingers fill me up suddenly, the unexpected pleasure makes me yell and grab the sheets. As I open my eyes I see her face right above mine again, watching with squinted eyes as she picks up her pace, my face contorting, mouth hanging open. All the build up left me so sensitive and Billies curved fingers are hitting every sweet spot I have. I’m a moaning mess under her, completely at her disposal, completely submitted to her. “Daddy, fuck, I’m gunna cum already, please let me cum” The nickname and begging works its magic on her and she throws her head back slightly, groans as she fucks into me even harder.

My orgasm rips through me suddenly and as I begin to shake and thrash under her she only speeds up her pace, curling her fingers even more. As my orgasm begins to slow, my moans growing quieter and my back returning down to the sheets, her other hand finds my clit, immediately drawing deep fast circles on the sensitive bud. I arch my back and cry out again, louder than before. She’s relentless, not giving me even a moment to breathe before my next high hits me. I’m a mess under her, completely caught up in pleasure. Her fingers begin to move inside of me, flicking back and forth right against my g-spot and without warning I feel the knot release. The sounds of my squirting fills the room and Billie's low, dirty laugh mixes in. She smiles down at me, gleaming with pride knowing she’s already fucked me through two orgasms.

“Can you take more or did I already ruin you too much?” She pulls out her fingers and immediately brings them to her mouth. I work hard to catch my breath and stop my legs from shaking. Billie hovers over me before leaning down and taking my boob, which has now spilled completely out of my gown, into her mouth. Her tongue circles my nipple before nipping at it and pulling away. “I want you to keep going. make me sorry. punish me for acting like a brat and being a slut” She smiles at my response, proud that I said exactly what I knew she wanted to hear.

“That's what you want baby? Want me to make you regret the attitude you gave me? Make you wish you didn’t decide to be such a slut tonight?” She nods mockingly in my face as she talks, her eyes squint and her teeth bite down hard on her lower lip. “Yes daddy, it's what I need, I need to be punished” I can see the way my words hit her body, swallowing hard and raising her eyebrow, showing how excited she is that I’m keeping this act up. “I’m about to fuck the shit outta you. fuck that slutty little brat outta you until you’re my good girl again” All I can do is groan.

She gets up and walks over to our bags in the corner of the room, taking off her pants and underwear. “What's the safe word mama?” Billie asks, turning briefly from her bag to look at me before returning to what's in front of her. “red” the response gets stuck in my throat after all my previous cries. I clear my throat and speak again, “It’s red.” My nervous excitement for what's to come can be heard in my voice. “Good girl” she stands and slides on the harness before walking over to me. “And if I ask for your color and you are starting to feel uncomfortable, what’ll you say then baby?” I look at her with a slight confusion before I process what she's asking “Orange, I’ll say orange. and if I feel good I’ll say green” She kisses me on the head when she finally gets over to me. “You're such a good girl when you want to be, huh mama?” I blush at the praise, enjoying the brief moment of softness we’re sharing.

When I feel Billie spreading my legs I look down and notice just how big of a dildo she has attached to her. Not only is it long, but it’s thicker than anything I’ve had inside of me. Before I can think about it too much, it’s inching into me. I feel the resistance immediately, but Billie continues to thrust. I whine at the slight pain, trying to push her stomach, make her stop for a moment before stretching me out fully. “nuh uh, you can fucking take it. Sluts like you can take this cock. Don’t run away now” I whimper again, nodding my head and fisting the sheets.

Billie pulls out slowly, but before I can feel the emptiness she slams her entire plastic dick inside of me, stretching and filling me so intensely. I scream out, unsure if it's from pain or pleasure as she repeats this action again, pulling out of me slowly before slamming herself into me hard. The pain of her big cock has disappeared, what's left is a form of pleasure I've yet to experience before this. She has already left my pussy so wet and sensitive from her fingers, and now her thick long faux cock is filling me so perfectly I’m seeing stars. I’m addicted, never having been fucked and dominated so aggressively in my life. Her thrusts are slow and intentional now, letting me feel every vein and ridge in her dick as she pulls out and pushes back in.

The noises spilling out of me are completely unfiltered. I’m drunk, only alive to be fucked by her in this very moment. “You’re such a whore for this dick, god its so fucking pathetic baby” All I can do is nod, I can’t even focus enough to get a word out anymore. With her weight propped up on one elbow and her hips still thrusting into me hard, Billie lifts her other hand to my jaw, grabbing harshly with a grip that almost hurts. “Eyes open, come on, look at me love” It takes me a moment to register her commands but finally I get my eyes opened, moaning at the power drunk face she’s making above me. “Open your mouth and stick out your fucking tongue” Her words come out in the same pattern as her thrusts, and her breath sounds heavier now as she continues to ruin me.

I obey immediately and as soon as my mouth opens Billie drops her spit on my tongue, then again in the back of my throat. Before I can close my mouth she shoves two of her fingers in, pushing down on my tongue hard. I close my mouth around them sucking and swirling my tongue over her digits for a moment before she pulls them out. With my mouth still open Billie takes her fingers and spreads the mixture of her saliva and mine all over my chin, cheeks and mouth, a maniacal laugh coming out of her as she does it. The thick mixture coats my face completely and when she slaps her hand on top of it, it stings slightly. Her actions are painfully degrading and only fueling the intensely erotic hunger in me more, so intoxicated by her energy.

“My pathetic baby, thought she could be a brat and get away with it, thought I wasn’t gunna show who’s in charge here, what I do with bratty pathetic sluts. You like it, don’t you baby, like when I humiliate you, when I get you drunk off my cock, do anything I want to you. Is that right?” She lets her words hit me in the face as she picks up her speed, thrusting into me much faster and harder now. “color?” her voice is firm and serious as she checks in on me. It makes me feel so safe and allows me to enjoy all this so much more. “green Billie, don’t stop” she smiles at my quick answer before continuing to destroy me.

“God, you’re making this pussy feel so fucking good. Fuckkkk” I take a deep breath and let out a loud moan before continuing, “Thats your fucking pussy, this pussy is all yours Daddy” Billie lifts herself off her elbows onto her hands, pinned on both sides of me, and the new angle allows her to thrust freer now. She throws her head back when she hears what I said, groaning loudly, making it clear I am making her so horny, that she’s loving the way I’m letting her ruin me. “MMMM thats right, this is my perfect little pussy, my pussy to fuck, to destroy, to lick the cum off of” Her fingers move down to connect with my oversensitive clit and within minutes I’m yelling out that I’m cumming again, coating her dick in my creamy white arousal.

Before I can think straight I’m being flipped onto my stomach. Billie lifts me up for just a moment to put a pillow under my lower stomach before laying me back down till my whole body is pressed into the bed. She straddles my thighs with her legs on both sides of mine and her hands grab at my ass cheeks, spreading them to get a view of my completely ruined pussy. I feel her warm spit land on my cunt and before long the tip of her strap is rubbing up at my entrance again. I am both completely fucked out, and yet entirely hungry for more.

“Are you gunna be a good girl, gunna take daddy’s dick like a good girl for me?” I nod my head, unable to think straight from all the orgasms I’ve had in the last hour. Billie slaps my ass hard causing me to let out a yelp that echoes around the room. “Words, brat, I need words” “Yes, yes I’m gonna be your good girl” I whimper out “That's it, that's what I thought” her words come out in a moan that mixes with mine as she slowly slides into me. The new position, my stomach flat against a pillow and my legs tightly closed, makes for an intoxicating new feeling. “Oh fuck Billie that feels sooooo good, oh my god baby yes” “mmmm mmhhmm mama I know, I know it does, such a good girl telling me how good you feel, thats my good girl”

“AUGHhhshhh fuckkkk daddy, dont stop it feels so fucking good” This pleasure is addicting, I’m melting all over her thick cock, completely, entirely drunk of this feeling, mouth hanging open, sweet grunts coming out with every single thrust. Billie's hand gripping my hair and pushing my face deeper into the bed only makes me more turned on, the way she’s still showing me her nasty dominance only fuels my desire to keep taking her, keep being a good girl for her. “Color?” I don’t hear her, too focused on how good she’s making me feel. Her hand grips my hair tighter, the pain snapping me back into reality. “Color y/n?! when I speak you answer, got it?” “Yes daddy, yes, I'm sorry. Green, it’s green, keep fucking going, I can take it”

Her own whimpers and grunts begin to fill the room, matching with mine. I’ve learned them well over the last week, I know her high is building fast. Her thrusts speed up and grow more and more sloppy as her moans get louder. I’m so in love, so happy to be letting her use me in this moment, fucking me hard and pulling us both to another high. “Thats my pussy huh baby? My *thrust* fucking *thrust* Pussy *thrust*” I yell out a loud groan and nod my head under her hand, hoping that she’ll accept that as a good enough answer. “Mmmm yea it is, good girl. This is your fucking cock, your cock you’re taking sooooo well for me”

“Mmmm FUCK yes thats my cock, you’re fucking me so good daddy, uhhhhh” Every sound leaving my mouth is high pitched and working as a perfect display of how hypnotized I am on her dick. “God baby, cum for me again, coat this dick with your cum, lemme see you make a mess on me one more time mama” I whine as she pushes into me deeper and moans.

“I’m gunna cum mama, fuck cum with me. Cum! all! Over! this! Dick” each of her words hits me with a thrust of her hips and we both explode. We cry out eachother names over and over with an occasional “fuck” or incoherent moan. They echo and bounce back at us as we shake against each other, both coming completely undone as we experience earth shattering orgasms at the same time.

She collapses on top of me with a deep sigh and our breathing matches up as we try to slow our heartbeats down. Our skin sticks together, covered in sweat, cum and spit from the last hour of nasty pleasure. My pussy throbs on the plastic dick still filling me up and every so often a whimper leaves my lips.

I feel Billie lift her head up and kiss my sweaty forehead. “Did so good for me baby, so so good for me” She pulls out slowly, causing me to whimper slightly from how overstimulated I am. “you okay mama?” She kisses my head again as she lands on the bed next to me, pulling me on top of her and rubbing my back. “i’m good, really good” I giggle slightly, making it clear how much I enjoyed all of it. “I love you Billie” the post sex high is coursing through my veins and I feel so wildly in love with the girl laying next to me. “I love you too mama” I pull her in for a kiss before laying my head on her chest. “I don’t think I can move, you fucked me too good” I laugh at my own honest confession and look up at her. “Why don’t I run a bath for us and we can get cleaned up before we go to sleep? Does that sound okay?” My face blushes as she looks at me.

“God, that sounds amazing. if I woulda known you could fuck me so hard then treat me so sweet, i woulda made a move on you a lot faster eilish” “mmmm and if I woulda know you could be such a nasty little slut I woulda locked you in a lot faster too, sunny” she looks down and winks at me before sliding out from under me and moving towards the bathroom. I spread out on the bed and close my eyes, taking in the high I feel and trying to convince myself that all this is real.

[melliemell]

Pairing: Dazai x reader

Contents: NSFW, penetration (reader receiving), trying out a new position but Dazai gets too focused on staring and teasing than actual fucking (until successful persuasion that is), dazai levels of menace, Approx 1.2k words

“What? Pshhh, it’s a perfectly rounded ass I’ll have you know–”

You groaned, hiding your face deeper into the mattress. “Don’t just comment on it. It’s bad as it is. Get on with it.” Your muffled voice only drew another chuckle from Dazai.

“Gimme a second, I’m still engraving this in my mind,” Dazai said. “Future references and all.”

You hated Dazai. So much. Him and his annoying face and stupid voice and long slender fingers as they kept you in place, ass ceremoniously up as you stood on elbows and knees before him. 

Worst idea possible.

You should have kept to the vanilla sex. You’ve no idea what possessed you to suggest… a change of angles, let’s say. The flash of excitement in Dazai’s eyes only spurred you on, unfortunately–that innocent eagerness for pleasing one’s partner taking hold of your better judgment. 

But Dazai was just looking at you now, one hand lazily stroking at his cock as he trailed feathered touches down your back. Your patience was waning and your steadily kept composure along with it.

You must be definitely quite the sight, one that kept popping in your mind with how utterly embarrassing it felt to you. Your confidence wound up shriveling away with every second, face red but not from the fun type of activity.

“What happened to partner’s pleasure coming first?” you asked, sneaking a judging glance at Dazai's grinning face.

“Ooh, I am known to be very generous, yes,” Dazai said, and you shuddered as his hand trailed down to your pussy lips, teasing at your entrance curiously. As if he weren’t inside you less than five minutes ago. You were still very wet and very welcoming; the idiot only needed to take the hint. 

“Well?”

“Well what?” He pressed a finger inside you, making you arch into the touch. He was quick to find your sweet spot, twisting his finger with just the right pressure to have you breathing hard again. “See? The picture of ample virtue, solely and entirely for the loveliest of beauties.” And he leaned down, chest pressing to your back as he kissed the spot between your shoulders.

“You talk too much,” you panted, pushing your hips back as you sought more of Dazai’s touch. 

“Only truths. The heart sings when it’s in love, you know that?” he whispered against your ear, nose brushing playfully against it. “Seeing your ass up like that really set the deal for me. A man in love indeed.”

“Weirdo,” you said, capturing his lips before he went on with his smart remarks again. You could feel his cock against your under-thigh, hard and still leaking. Dazai was expressing a remarkable level of self-restraint. Too bad you had no such plans for yourself. “Dazai, dear?”

He hummed against you, biting playfully at your lower lip.

“If you don’t stop with your teasing now and get your cock inside me…” You cocked your head away, letting him seek for your closeness. “I’ll just leave.” 

A dramatic gasp. “You wouldn’t.” He dragged his fingers up to your clit, smearing your wetness as he began stroking you. “That would be too cruel.”

Your belly fluttered, the familiar pressure building slowly up again. You lay back down, cheek resting on the mattress as you focused on the sensation. “The cruellest.” Your eyes fluttered.

Dazai kissed your shoulder before he rested his chin on the same spot. Even with your eyes closed you could tell he was watching you. You could even picture perfectly his brown eyes, the way he took you all in. It used to throw you off how much Dazai enjoyed eye contact during sex. Face to face as he held you close to him, soaking every detail, every reaction he managed to bring out of you. It used to trigger a self-consciousness that made you uncomfortable at times, but you knew where his habit spurred from.

As hard as it was to believe this, Dazai was attracted to whatever he saw. Even when you thought you weren’t at your best, he was still there. Looking. 

That mind of his so loved being perverse too, to your immense embarrassment at times. But as long as you felt comfortable–and preferably in the territory of your own home, thank you–you didn’t mind treating him to a pretty view here and there. Besides, embarrassment really did die away once his hand was on your clit making your brain foggy with pleasure.

Sure. Good idea, yes.

You fluttered your eyes open, hooded gaze locking immediately with brown irises. You arched a brow. 

Predictable.

A quiet, barely there sigh shuddered past your lips; enough to slightly pull at Dazai’s attention. Being loud in bed was not one of your fortes, and that’s why it was so… valuable. In times of need, that is.

You built up your sound carefully, shuddering through your every breath as your moans began spilling from your lips with every passing moment. You didn’t know if it was the placebo effect at play here, but you were pushing yourself even closer to your orgasm, the release of inhibitions spurring you forward unexpectedly. 

You found yourself pulling at Dazai roughly, seeking him as your tongue pried his lips open. He kissed you just as fervently, grinning like a fool as his fingers moved faster against your clit. You could barely keep it in.

“Dazai,” you said, voice downright commanding in your desperation. 

Good thing Dazai was a quick read, holding you in place as he finally slipped his cock inside you a second later, groaning against your lips.

It was a blur after that, Dazai’s thrusts sloppy and reaching deep as he fucked you into the mattress. He rose up at some point, using his weight to angle himself just right, the audible sound of skin slapping against skin too arousing for your mind to focus on anything else.

Dazai didn’t stop even as you clutched at the sheets between waves of pleasure, your orgasm passing through your body mercilessly. You were blinking the moisture from your eyes when Dazai pulled you up suddenly. Your body felt limp as he settled you against him, still thrusting inside you as a hand cupped at your breasts. Your thighs trembled from the position, pussy clenching involuntarily around Dazai as you still came down from your high. 

“Ohh fuck–” Dazai laughed, the sound verberating through his ribcage. “Holy fuck of a–”

He stiffened, a low, guttural moan leaving his lips as you felt him spilling inside you. Dazai’s head dropped on your shoulder, breathing hard.

You patted him on the forehead, hand falling back down from the extreme effort. “Please don’t lean too much on me now, being crushed is not fun.”

“I’ll talk to gravity about it,” he mumbled against your shoulder, weight falling dangerously forward. 

Your eyes widened. “Dazai!”

“Ha.” He blew a raspberry on your neck, laughing at your exasperated face. “Gotcha.”

Ass. Absolute ass. But then he nuzzled against you, deep brown eyes looking up at you with so much adoration your annoyance all but dissipated. A smile crept on your lips, accompanied by a feeling of warmth within your chest. 

Oh well. He was your ass, at least.  

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FIVE ━━ I Get You

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 4.9K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of injury, angst

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: these hoes are gay

PAIGE SITS on the sidelines, her crutches propped up against the wall, the weight of her brace a constant reminder. The gym smells like it always does—sweat, pine-scented floor cleaner, and faintly of old rubber. It’s familiar, almost comforting, but today it just feels hollow. Every bounce of the ball, every squeak of sneakers against polished wood, every shout of her teammates feels like a sharp stab. She should be out there. She should be running those plays, setting up the assists, pushing the pace, and taking those impossible shots. Instead, she’s stuck here, immobile and useless.

Her hands grip the edge of the chair, the cool metal biting into her palms as she leans forward to watch the scrimmage. Jo’s running point, calling out a play with that calm, sure voice Paige has come to admire. Jo makes it look easy, like she’s been apart of this team forever, and the rest of the girls respond to her without hesitation. It’s the kind of command Paige used to have, the kind she oddly always thought no one could replicate.

But between Jo and Nika, they’re doing fine without her.

And she thinks that’s the hardest part.

Every pass, every cut, every layup feels like a slap to Paige’s pride. The team doesn’t crumble without her; they adapt. Jo steps into the role Paige left vacant, and Paige can’t even dislike her for it because she’s so damn good at it. She runs the offense and with precision, directing the team perfectly. And, of course, it’s not like Paige wants her team to fail without her. It’s just a reminder of what she can’t do anymore—or, at least not for a long time.

Her stomach twists as she watches the scrimmage play out. She’s never been good at sitting still, and now, that’s all she can do. Sit and watch. She used to be the one lifting everyone’s spirits, the one pushing them through tough practices. Now she’s just another body on the sidelines, invisible and irrelevant. She feels like a ghost of herself, haunting the gym where she uses to thrive.

The ache in her knee is dull but persistent, a constant undercurrent to her frustration. The brace is still and cumbersome, and the crutches are a pain in the ass to deal with. Even getting to this chair had felt like a marathon. She hates every second of this—the injury, the recovery, the helplessness. It’s not just the physical pain; it’s the way it chips away at her identity. She doesn’t know who she is without basketball.

She glances down at the clipboard balanced on her lap, a half-hearted attempt to stay engaged. Geno had given it to her, suggesting she could help track plays and stats during practice, but it feels like a consolation prize. Like something he made up to keep her busy, to make her feel less like dead weight. The truth is, she doesn’t know what the hell her role is anymore. She doesn’t know how to help when she can’t be on the court.

Paige forced herself to focus back on the scrimmage, her eyes narrowing as Jo drives toward the basket. Jo’s quick, her movements sharp and meaningful, and instead of finishing with the layup, she does a no-look, dishing it out to Azzi on the perimeter, who buries a three. Paige catches Jo’s eyes as she jogs back up the court, and Jo flashes her that smile—warm, reassuring, effortless. It’s the kind of smile that should make Paige feel better, but—for once—it doesn’t.

Paige doesn’t have the energy to smile back. She knows Jo means well, knows she’s trying to be supportive, but it just makes Paige feel worse. She’s not in the mood for reassurance. She doesn’t want to be told it’s going to be okay, because it doesn’t feel like it ever will be.

Jo looks away and gets back into the flow of the game, and Paige’s gaze drops to the clipboard again. She scribbles something down, not because it matters, but because she needs something to do with her hands. She feels the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to hurt.

The gym fades into background noise as her mind races. She thinks about the months ahead, the endless rehab sessions, the games she’ll have to watch from the bench. She thinks about how everyone else will move on, how the media will forget her name, how the team will find rhythm without her. She wonders if she’ll ever get that rhythm back, if she’ll ever feel like herself again.

She thinks she will. She has enough trust in God to hope he’ll at least give her that. But, here, right now, that feels so far ahead that it’s almost just wishful at this point.

Paige closes her eyes, breathing deeply. She can’t do this here, not in front of everyone. She pushes herself up from the chair, fumbling for her crutches. The awkward motion makes her wince, but she swallows the ache and glances at Geno.

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” she says, her voice too clipped to be convincing.

Geno narrows his eyes slightly, the way he always does when he’s trying to figure someone out. He nods once, and Paige feels the weight of his gaze as she turns away. She knows he can see right through her excuse, but he doesn’t call her out on it. She doesn’t need another lecture about staying engaged.

The moment she’s out of the gym, the air feels different—quieter, cooler, easier to breathe. The hallway stretches ahead of her, lined with murals of UConn legends. Paige’s crutches thud against the floor as she hobbles forward, her eyes skimming over the faces and names that loom on the walls. Maya Moore. Breanna Stewart. Diana Tayrasi. Sue Bird.

Her chest tightens.

She’s supposed to be part of this legacy. She’s supposed to be one of the names people remember, one of the faces immortalized in paint and pride. But now? Now she’s a girl with a busted knee and a brace that feels like a goddamn prison. The thought makes her stomach twist with equal parts anxiety and frustration, a bitter cocktail she’s been choking down since the surgery.

As she continues down the hall, trying to push those thoughts out of her head, she nearly collides with someone rounding the corner.

“Paige!”

Celeste Sinclair’s voice is bright and warm, and Paige immediately regrets leaving the gym. The grin that spreads across the redhead’s face feels too familiar, too personal, like an inside joke Paige isn’t in on.

“Hey,” Paige mutters, gripping the crutches tighter.

She hasn’t seen Celeste since before her ACL tear, and that’s probably for the best. The girls Paige hooks up with always have a way of getting too attached. Paige doesn’t blame them, not really. She knows she’s charming, knows how to make people feel like they’re the only one in the world when they’re with her. But that’s all it’s ever been: a moment.

Celeste is nice. Pretty. Accomplished. Good in bed. But Paige has never wanted anything more, never even given it a thought. Relationships aren’t for her. They never have been. Basketball has always been her first and only love, the one thing she’s willing to give herself to completely. And now that’s gone—at least for now. The last thing she needs is another reminder of how much she’s failed.

“I haven’t seen you since…” Celeste trails off, gesturing vaguely toward Paige’s knee, her voice tinged with sympathy. “How’re you holding up?”

Paige forces herself to smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “I’m good. Just takin’ it one day at a time.”

Celeste beams at her like she’s just said something profound, and Paige wants to die a little inside.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Celeste replies. “I wasn’t sure—did you get my card? I gave it to Jo to pass along before your surgery. Um, but you haven’t really said anything.”

Oh, right. The card. The one Paige didn’t even read. The one that’s now resting in a hospital trash can. Paige rubs a hand over her face, buying time to piece together an answer. “Yeah—uh, yeah, I got it. Sorry I said nothin’. Thanks, though.”

Celeste’s smile widens, and her eyes soften in that way that makes Paige want to shuffle awkwardly away. Celeste always looks at her like that, like there’s something more between them, something Paige knows she’ll never be able to—or want—to give.

“You’re welcome,” Celeste says gently. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

Paige more, hoping that’s the end of it, but of course, it’s not.

“Hey,” Celeste starts, her tone shifting to something more professional, “any chance you’d be up for, like, a TikTok? Just something to show the fans you’re healing. They’d love to see you.”

It’s times like these that Paige understands why Jo thought it was so funny she was fucking their media girl. Paige stares at Celeste for a long second, feeling a spark of irritation flare in her chest, because, seriously, why would she even ask that? “No, Celeste. I don’t wanna do any media.”

The words come out sharper than she intends, but she doesn’t care enough to soften them. She adjusts her grip on her crutches, already turning to leave.

“Right,” Celeste says quickly, falling into step beside her. “I get that. Totally. Just… heal up, okay? Call or text, if you want to. You know where to find me.”

Paige doesn’t respond, just gives her a brief nod before hobbling down the hall. Her pace is slow, each step a frustrating reminder of how far she is from where she wants to be. Celeste finally stops following, and Paige exhales in relief as she rounds another corner, desperate for some space, some air, anything that doesn’t feel like pressure or pity.

AFTER PRACTICE, Jo walks into the locker room with the rest of the team, the chatter and laughter bouncing off the walls as everyone unwinds from the session. She’s still buzzing with the energy of the scrimmage (and the sprints they were forced to do after because of one-too-many missed layups), but as she rounds the corner to the lockers, she notices a familiar figure slouched on the bench.

Paige had disappeared halfway through practice, and though Geno didn’t make a big deal out of it, Jo had been aware of her absence like a missing puzzle piece. Now here she is, sitting in front of their side-by-side lockers, her crutches leaning against the bench and her gaze a little unfocused. Her brace sticks out awkwardly from her bent leg, and Jo feels a pant of sympathy tighten her chest.

“Hey,” Jo says as she tosses her bag in the cubby of her locker. She sits down beside Paige, close enough to make her presence known but not enough to crowd her. “You okay?”

Paige shrugs, her lips pulling into a vague shape that might be a smile but doesn’t come close. “Yeah. ‘M fine.”

Jo doesn’t buy it. It’s not that Paige is necessarily a bad liar; she’s just too proud, too stubborn to admit when she’s not. Jo watches her for a beat, the slump of her shoulders, the way her fingers fight with the hem of her T-shirt. She knows this posture, this energy. It’s the same one she’s seen in teammates who’ve been sidelined by injures, the same one she’s seen in herself on the bad days.

But Jo doesn’t push. She knows how that can feel—suffocating, like someone prying open a door you’re not ready to unlock. Instead, she plants her hands on the bench and leans back a little, changing the subject.

“Did you see Lou get me with that spin move earlier?” Jo asks, keeping her tone light. “Literally cooked me.”

Paige lets out a small, breathy laugh, almost imperceptible, but Jo catches it. It’s the first sign of life she’s seen in her all day.

“Didn’t even look like she was trying,” Paige mutters, her voice flat but laced with the ghost of a smirk.

“Right?” Jo exclaims, throwing up her hands in mock indignation. “It’s like, leave some dignity for the rest of us, y’know?”

She continues on, telling some half-dramatic story of when Nika picked her pocket after Paige left, weaving in jokes at her own expanse. She avoids anything too basketball-heavy, keeping the focus on the absurdity of her own experiences instead of the game itself. It’s a careful balance—Jo knows that bringing up basketball might sting, but it’s also a thread that ties them together, a shared language Paige can’t—and Jo knows she doesn’t want to—escape from.

Paige hums in response now and then, her focus flickering like a weak signal. Jo can tell she’s only half-listening, her mind somewhere else entirely. Still, she keeps going, hoping that her presence, if nothing else, might pull Paige out of her head a little.

After a while, as everyone’s getting up to go, Jo shifts the conversation again, tilting her head toward Paige. “Y’know, we could hang out later—maybe watch a movie or something?”

Paige looks at her, and for a split second, Jo thinks she might say no outright. Instead, Paige forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes and says, “Maybe.”

The hesitation is there, sharp and obvious, but Jo doesn’t call it out. She knows better than to push. She lets the word hang in the air for a moment before nodding, as if “maybe” is a real plan.

“Okay,” Jo says, keeping her tone casual.

Paige turns back to her hands, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the bench. Jo watches her out of the corner of her eye, thinking of something that might reach her. She’s learned that Paige is pretty independent, something that stems from her childhood if Jo had to guess, and Jo respects that. She does. But there’s a difference between being independent and shutting everyone out, and Jo worries that Paige is tipping too far into the latter.

She tries to think of something—anything—that might help. She doesn’t need to cheer Paige up, necessarily. She’s learned by now that joy isn’t always the right goal. What Paige needs isn’t sunshine and rainbows (though Jo would probably be better at giving her that). What she needs is something steadier, quieter. A reminder that she’s not alone, even if she feels like she is.

She’ll figure something out.

PAIGE LIES sprawled across her bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the string lights draped along the wall. Her eyes are fixed on her crutches, propped up against the wall next to her like a taunt she can’t escape. They stand there, silent and unmoving, mocking her with their stillness while the rest of the world seems to keep spinning without her.

Today has been one of the most frustrating days she’s had since the injury. The hours feel heavier, pressing against her chest, leaving no room to breathe. Practice was a disaster, even though she wasn’t really in it. She hates watching from the sidelines, hates feeling so useless. She’d escaped halfway through, hobbling out of the gym under the guise of needing air, only to run into Celeste, of all people. That interaction still churns in her stomach—awkward and uncomfortable, like a bruise pressed too hard.

Jo had asked her earlier if she wanted to hang out tonight. Just a movie, something simple. Paige had said “maybe” at the time. But an hour or so ago, when Jo knocked softly on her door, her voice east and unassuming as she asked if Paige wanted to make good on the plan, Paige had thrown out some half-baked excuse about being tired.

Jo didn’t push, of course. She never does. She just nodded, smiled a little, and closed the door, before Paige heard her leave the apartment—probably to go upstairs and hangout with their teammates. Her stomach twisted with guilt as she listened because Jo is Jo—kind and patient and the only person who seems to understand that Paige doesn’t want to talk about any of this. She doesn’t want to be asked how she’s doing, doesn’t want to be told it’ll get better, doesn’t want to be smothered in sympathy that feels more like pity.

But Jo’s absence now feels louder than her presence earlier. Paige stares at the ceiling, trying to will herself into a calmer state, trying to shake off the weight of the day, the week, the last month. It doesn’t work.

She sits up abruptly, shoving the blankets off her legs and swinging them over the side of the bed. Her knee twinges at the movement, the brace digging into her skin, and she lets out a frustrated huff. Her eyes land on the crutches again, the sharp lines of their edges casting long shadows in the dim light. She feels a bubbling in her chest—an anger she doesn’t know how to direct, a helplessness she doesn’t know how to contain.

Before she even realizes what she’s doing, Paige grabs one of the crutches from beside the bed and hurls it across the room. It crashes against the wall with a dull thud, sliding to the floor in a defeated heap. The sound echoes in the silence, and for a moment, she just stares at the aftermath, her chest heaving.

And then the tears come.

It’s not the first time she’s cried since the injury, but it feels different tonight—uglier, rawer, like the dam has finally burst. She curls in on herself, her hands tangling in her hair as sobs wrack her body. She doesn’t bother trying to quiet them. There’s no one here to hear her, no one to ask if she’s okay, no one to offer meaningless reassurances she doesn’t want to hear.

Except, there is.

A soft, hesitant knock at Paige’s bedroom door jolts her out of her spiraling thoughts. She freezes, her hands instinctively wiping at her face, smearing away the tears that have already begun to dry against her skin. Confusion threads through her—she thought Jo had left. She hadn’t even heard her come back.

The door creaks open, and there Jo is, standing in the sun light spilling from the hallway. Her brows are furrowed, her mouth pulled into a concerned line. She takes a step inside, her eyes scanning the room. Paige knows what she sees—the red puffiness of her face, the dampness of her cheeks, and the crutch lying discarded by the wall like a casualty of war.

“Sorry,” Paige blurts out, her voice cracking as the word tumbles out in a rush. She feels a fresh wave of shame rise up. She’s been awful to Jo, she knows that. First brushing her off earlier, and now this—disturbing her peace with her mess, her ability to just hold it together for once.

Jo doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there, her eyes roving over Paige’s face, taking in every detail. Paige hates how exposed she feels, like Jo can see right through the flimsy walls she’s been trying to keep up all day. Finally, Jo sighs and steps fully into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

“Paige,” Jo says gently, “you don’t have to be sorry.”

There’s something in Jo’s voice that makes Paige want to believe her. Something so simple, yet so genuine, that it threatens to unravel the last bit of control she has. She doesn’t respond, just watches as Jo walks closer. She sets something—a bag, Paige thinks—on the floor next to the bed, but Paige doesn’t even bother to look at it. Jo sits down on the edge of the mattress, close enough that Paige can smell the faint traces of strawberry body wash on her skin. She hates that it makes her stomach do that weird fluttery thing, hates that it makes her feel anything at all.

“I’m just—” Jo pauses, and Paige looks up at her. Jo’s eyes are soft but unwavering, and the way she’s looking at Paige, like she’s trying to will her to understand something without saying it outright, makes her heart squeeze. “I’m really worried about you, P.”

The flutter in Paige’s stomach turns into something heavier, like a weight pressing down on her stomach. Jo’s worried about her. Paige knows that other people have probably been worried about her too—her parents, her teammates, her coaches—but it feels different coming from Jo. It feels too much. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way Jo’s gaze feels like it’s peeling back all her layers.

“I’m fine,” Paige says automatically. The word sound hollow even to her, like a tired script she’s forced herself to memorize.

Jo shakes her head, her expressing softening even more. “No, you’re not. And it’s okay not to be.”

Paige doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to put into words what’s been clawing at her chest since the injury.

“But you’re shutting everyone out,” Jo continues, her voice steady but not accusatory. “It’s like you won’t even look at me some days, let alone talk to me. And I get it. I do. But I just—I want you to know that I’m here. That you can talk to me, because I’ve been there.”

Paige stares at her, the words catching her slightly off guard. I’m here. It’s such a simple thing to say, but the way Jo says it, low and earnest, makes something in Paige’s chest twist. She doesn’t know what to do with that—doesn’t know how to accept it without feeling like she’s admitting defeat.

“Azzi already tried,” Paige says finally, sounding shaky. “She tore her ACL in high school, and she tried to talk to me about it. But it’s just—she still didn’t seem to get it. No one does—I don’t know—” Her voice cracks on the last few words, and she feels the tears welling up again, hot and relentless.

Jo studies her for a long moment, her head tilting slightly. “You think nobody gets you?” she asks softly.

Paige nods, the movement slow and heavy, her throat too tight to speak.

Jo nods too, as if she’s been expecting that. “It’s not true,” she says simply. “I get you. I do.”

Paige shakes her head, a weak protest already forking. “Jo—”

“No, really,” Jo interrupts, leaning forward slightly. “You feel like everyone expects you to be perfect, all the time. You feel like if you’re not the Paige Bueckers everyone knows—the player, the leader, the star—that you’re letting everyone down. Your team, your coaches, your fans, your family—yourself. You feel like you don’t even know who you are without basketball, because it’s been your whole life for as long as you can remember. And now that it’s been taken away from you, you don’t know how to exist. You feel lost, like a piece of you is missing, and you’re scared—terrified, actually—that you’ll never get it back And you’re so used to dealing with everything on your own, to putting on a brave face and pretending you’re fine, that the thought of letting anyone in feels basically impossible. Like if you let even one crack show, then the whole thing will just come crashing down.”

The words hit Paige like a tidal wave. Every sentence is a punch to the gut, not because it hurts, but because it’s true. Jo’s right—about all of it. About the fear, the pressure, the suffocating wright of it all. And the way Jo says it, calm and matter-of-fact, makes it even harder to ignore.

“Was I right?” Jo asks softly, her eyes searching Paige’s face.

Paige swallows hard, her chest tight as she stares at Jo. There’s something about the way Jo’s looking at her—steady and unwavering, like she’ll wait forever if she has to—that makes Paige feel like the room is tilting. She wants to run from it, but she also doesn’t want Jo to stop.

Finally, she nods, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah,” she says, her throat dry. “You were.”

Paige doesn’t know how to process the way Jo’s smile hits her. It’s small, soft, and knowing, but it wraps around Paige like a hug. Jo leans a little closer, her voice warm and teasing when she says, “See? I told you.”

There’s something about those words, about the certainty in Jo’s tone. She doesn’t want to cry anymore—God, she doesn’t want to—but something about Jo makes her feel like it would be okay if she did.

Jo’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Scoot over.”

Paige blinks at her, furrowing her brows. “What?”

Jo doesn’t elaborate, just gestures for Paige to move. Paige hesitates, unsure of where this is going, but she shuffled over, making room on the bed. Jo grabs the bag she set down earlier and pulls herself up onto the bed. Paige watches as Jo leans back, settling against the wall, her shoulder brushing Paige’s, her other side cuddling into Sunny, the stuffed animal she gave Paige.

“What’s that?” the blonde asks, gesturing toward the bag with a slight sniffle. Her voice is still shaky from earlier, and she hates how small she sounds.

Jo pulls the bag into her lap, her voice lighter now, almost back to her usual bright, less-serious self. “Oh, this?” She opens it and pulls out a little tub of ice cream. “I went out and got us ice cream. I got your disgusting mint chip.”

Paige blinks, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself. That’s where Jo had gone, even after she’d bailed on their plans. Paige takes the ice cream Jo offers, along with a spoon, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that has nothing to do with the food.

Jo retrieves her own tub—still cotton candy, still gross—and balances it in her lap.

They sit in silence for a moment, and Paige lets herself watch Jo as she digs into her ice cream. There’s something so effortless about her, the way she fits into Paige’s space like she belongs here.

Jo suddenly looks around, frowning a little as if searching for something. “Where’s your—?” she starts but doesn’t finish before her eyes lick on something and she leans over Paige, reaching toward the nightstand.

It happens so quickly that all Paige can do is freeze. Jo’s arm brushes her side, her hair falls near Paige’s face, and Paige can smell her shampoo, something sweet and faintly strawberry. Paige’s heart starts racing, and she doesn’t understand why.

Jo grabs the TV remote and sits back, settling into her spot again like nothing happened. Paige feels ridiculous for how flustered she is, but she can’t help it.

Jo turns on the TV, flipping through the streaming apps before looking over at Paige. “You ready to finally start The Vampire Diaries?”

The blonde groans, leaning her head back against the wall. “No, I don’t wanna watch that.”

Jo’s been pestering her about this show for what feels like forever, insisting Paige would love it if she just gave it a chance. Paige, naturally, has resisted every time.

The younger girl shrugs, clearly unfazed. “Well, I don’t care. You’re already a little too depressed to keep watching Grey’s, sorry. It’s more fun to watch vampires eat people. Besides, the Salvatores are hot.”

Paige deadpans, “I’m gay.”

Jo doesn’t miss a beat. “Okay, Nina Dobrev’s hot.”

And, yeah, Paige supposes she can’t argue with that. She sighs, defeated, and waves a hand toward the TV. “Fine. Put it on.”

Jo grins like she’s won a battle, which she kind of has, and presses play. Paige doesn’t know what to expect, but she lets herself settle in as the first episode begins. Part of her wonders why this show is Jo’s favorite. Because, really, what is it about brooding vampires and dumbass love triangles that she loves so much? Maybe, Paige thinks, if she watches closely, she’ll learn something about Jo.

They eat their ice cream in comfortable silence as the show plays, the room filled with the sounds of dramatic dialogue and overly intense music.

After a while, Paige’s appetite fades. She sets her ice cream tub on the nightstand, not in grow her arm brushes Jo’s when she moves. Her heart stutters again, and she tries to ignore it, sliding back into her spot.

Without really thinking, she leans her head on Jo’s shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it feels huge for some reason. Paige tells herself it’s just because she’s tired, that she needs comfort after everything that’s happened today. But the way her heart races says otherwise.

“Thanks, Joey,” she murmurs quietly.

Jo shifts slightly, and then Paige feels it—the warmth of Jo’s hand as it settles over her own. Paige’s breath catches, her stomach doing something weird and unfamiliar.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Jo says softly, certain.

But Paige does want to thank her, even if she doesn’t know how to put it into words. She doesn’t know how to explain what this means—Jo showing up, staying, not letting her spiral alone. All she knows is that her hand seems to fit perfectly under Jo’s slightly smaller one, and she doesn’t want to move.

The episode plays on, but Paige isn’t really watching anymore. She’s too focused on the warmth of Jo’s shoulder against her cheek, the quiet rise and fall of her breathing, the way her hand hasn’t moved from Paige’s. And in the back of her mind, Paige knows there’s something here—something bigger than she’s ready to admit.

[jakeswifeyyy]

sunghoon fucking you after going to the gym

Warnings:Unprotected sex,degrading,tit slapping,nipple play,use of pet names(baby,doll,darling) ,inplied big dick sunghoon,daddy kink andd I think that's all :)

MDNI!

Okay hear me out anon.

Like roommates with benefits sunghoon whom comes from the gym after a heavy workout for 3 hours straight ,clad in an oversized sleevless black shirt showing his big ass muscles(lowkey drooling at the image 🤤).

The whole roommates with benefits agenda started because of the oh so obvious built up sexual tension between you two,lingering touches,undressing each other with your eyes but that was a story for another day as he walked in from the gym,headphones on,gym bag on his shoulder with his joggers which were more of an excuse which blessed your eyes,him,the Greek God himself, sweating trickling down his face,smirked seeing you eyeing him so shamelessly.

"You're not so subtle y/n."

Hearing him speak before shutting the door behind him taking off his shoes before dropping his bag near the kitchen before walking towards you who was peering at him over your shoulder,before leaning down so close to you while staring straight ahead before snatching your cup of water from you gulping it down.

"Who said I was trying to be subtle Park."

You taunted him before scoffing turning back to face the long forgotten show playing on the TV.

"You just have a hot body I sometimes forget my manners."

He raised his eyebrow cocking his head to the side before smirking while eyeing your side profile as you watched the TV or more appropriately tried to watch the TV.You were getting more bold with your words and he wasn't complaining ,he liked having competition either way.

"If you find it so hot why don't you do something about it." You nearly jumped hearing him suddenly speak right next to your ear,breath tickling your earlobe before he slightly nibbled on it.

"Ew go take a shower atleast." He chuckled at your words before pulling you up to seat you on the armrest of the couch before trapping you in his arms which were on your sides on the couch.

"Why should I when you like seeing me like this hm?Tell me doll,tell me you don't like the image of me on top of you pounding into this pretty cunt darling."

He moved his face closer as you moved yours backwards,yeah you were normally dominant with all guys you slept with but something about sunghoon ever since you moved in,his aura was just different ,very different for the usual submissive virgin boys you went for,he wasn't your type at all but even so the tension kept growing between you two day by day,you always teased him when he wanted to have his way with you,even though he eventually did but teasing him was fun while it lasted.

He smirked when you moved away,"Why so quiet now doll."

You chuckled wrapping your arms around his neck,pulling him closer as he slightly stumbled causing you to fall back wards onto the couch as he fell on top of you holding himself up with one arm,he tsked poking his inner cheek with his tongue before scoffing.

"Thought I already taught you a lesson on who's incharge here guess you still don't wanna learn huh."

He didn't give you a chance to respond before crashing his lips on yours as you puked him closer with your arms around his neck,equally roughly kissing him back as your teeth clashed ,biting on his lower lip as he let out a groan before shoving his tongue into your mouth as he licked into your warn cavern ,obscenely moaning into his kiss,he was rough ,again contrasting your expectations, you were usually the one initiating the roughness,but is seems you meeting him wasn't part of the expectations either,everything about him was just...different.

After a couple minutes making out he pulled away,"Since you wanna be in control so much,ride me slut." You wouldn't deny that something about him degrading you had you on chokehold as you nodded before he pulled back completely and sat up,his sweaty self cooled off due to the high blast of the AC in the living room.

Quickly climbing onto his lap as his arms stretched on the couch behind you,you took of your cropped shirt which you hadn't worn anything under and he smirked biting his lower lip before grabbing one tit,squeezing it as your nipples hardened more due to the cold air in the room before you whimpered as he slapped your sensitive nipple.

"That's my good girl,always knowing what daddy wants isn't it?"

Letting out a choked moan you reply with a yes as you tugged on his shirt telling him to take it off ,as he did you run your hands down his abs down to his exposed valine before tracing them back up ,brushing over his nipples as his breath hitched before he held you by your wrist.

"Cut to the chase baby no foreplay for you today I'm too impatient."

Nodding you stand on your knees taking your booty shorts off leaving you bare as you lowered his joggers together with his boxers to his knees before wrapping your arm around his cock which stood between the both of ,angry fat red tip leaking with precum,as you pu.ped him a few times before lining it up with your entrance,slowly sliding down as you moaned vocally,his palm cupping your ass cheeks spreading them apart as he squeezed at the flesh,after completely taking him in you shuddered ,stabilising yourself on his shoulders,adjusting to his size which was always big to you.

"What're you waiting for slut,ride it or I'll punish you." Nodding quirky knowing he wouldn't let you come if you didn't before you started bouncing up and down on his length murmuring fucks as he pulled you closer,hand going to your tits pushing then together as he licked at your now held together nipples as you moaned rocking yourself faster in between bouncing ,alternating as he liked it that way,his hand snaking down to rub your clit in fast circles as he held your tits with one hand,licking all over messily ,drool pouring everywhere,the slurping sounds enough to make you feel your climax approaching.

"Hoon p-please ...w-wanna cum ngh."

He kissed your neck all over essentially sucking on some spots to hear your beautiful noises,"Cum for me baby,coat my cock baby." He soothed into your hear as your moans increasingly got louder before feeling your high crash down on you,thighs on fire from all the bouncing,as he lifted you off of him your cunt clenching around his length along the way was enough to make him cum right there,throwing his head back as he pumped his fist around his cock slowly riding out his high before he smirked at you,laughing at your fucked out state before picking you up bridal style heading to the bathroom.

"Guess we both need a shower now baby,"

You scoffed at him,"I know you want round2,"

He laughed again,"I'll do all the work this time, promise baby"

"Park Sunghoom I will kill you,"

A/n:Tysm for 86 followers guys in less than a month ly all ❤️,and also sorry to the anon for delaying this a bit I have a lot of projects this time 😓

[sturnsswift]

☆ MY STRANGE ADDICTION ☆

ᰔ - sum: in which you keep coming back to chris because he’s the only one who can make you feel, despite the cons of being with him

ᰔ - pairings: toxic!chris x fem!reader

ᰔ - warnings: 18+ CONENT AHEAD!! MDNI. smutty smut. kind of angsty. unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it). dom!chris. sub!reader. lowkey chris is manipulative. ass spanking. hair pulling. multiple sex positions. light choking. no aftercare. chris is kinda mean. rough and hard sex. use of degradation. VERY light use of praise (but even then it’s lowkey degrading). use of pet names (ma & mama). strong use of dirty talk. use of strong language.

ᰔ - wc: 533

“y’feel me, ma?” chris grunts as he thrusts into you, that shit-eating grin he always wore during sex slapped across his lips. “feel me inside, yeah?”

you nod your head, biting down hard on your bottom lip—enough to draw blood. chris jerks you towards him, yanking on your hair. “use your words, mama.” he grins, pounding harder into your ass.

you knew he liked this, hell, he loved it. because with everything that happen between you two? after everything he put you through? he knew you’d still come back, you always did.

“fill me up, s’good.” you cry out, your hands bunching up the sheets as you cling to them for dear life. you knew chris wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop until he got his fill, until he was satisfied.

“good girl.” he lets a dirty grin spread across his lips, watching the little ripples in your ass flow with his thrusts. he couldn’t lie, you were his favourite. among the other girls he had loaded in his phone, desperate to be in your spot right now.

chris continues pounding, low grunts leaving his lips as he delivers a sharp slap to your ass—startling you a little. “mine, all mine.” he growls, sinking himself deeper into you, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll and your pussy clamp around his length. you hated yourself for this, how he could just make you a puddle underneath him. you hated how he made you feel, even with the shit he put you through.

but you knew you’d always go back. you’d always repeat the cycle.

“who does this pussy belong to huh, ma?” he grins, gripping onto your ass like a lifeline as he pistons his thick cock in and out.

“y-you.” you whimper, feeling him tug you back again.”

“louder.” chris groans, feeling his cock twitch—signalling he was close to an orgasm.

“you!” you shout, landing on your back as chris flips you over.

“that’s it ma.” his hand wraps around your neck, his thrusts now relentless. “gonna let me cum on you, yeah?”

you nod, a string of incoherent moans spilling from your lips as he fucks you silly. your orgasm crashes over you before you could even notice it. chris grins once more, knowing that he was the only one that could make you feel like this. cum like this.

“cummin’ all over my cock, huh?” the brunette chuckles, gripping your neck harder. “so fuckin’ desperate.”

before you could even blink, chris was pulling out. thick ropes of cum spurting from the tip and onto your stomach. for a moment you felt noticed, loved, wanted. but that all faded away once you saw him getting dressed, like it was nothing to him. which in reality? probably was.

“thanks for the fuck, ma.” he says bluntly, quickly pulling out his phone to send a text before shoving back into his pocket. “sorry about the mess, kid.”

the empty pit in your stomach deepens as you watch him exit your apartment, leaving you vulnerable. not to mention, painted with his own load. and even then you knew you’d still keep him here.

he was right, you were desperate. desperate to be loved. even if it was just for a quickie.

a/n: cooked ts up this angel @vainilladollie LOVE YOU!!! also ty for 100 followers ��🤍 each of you get a forehead kiss

divider creds: @bernardsbendystraws & @mattscoquette

taglist: @chrislilcumslvt @jadasmp4 @trevorsgodmother @bandanamatt @dominicfikeenthusiast

[buckets-and-trees]

Room to Grow

Characters/Pairings: husband!Lloyd Hansen x curvy Millennial female!Reader Word Count: 1.6k Summary: An ordinary day of domestic life with Lloyd. Only you're "in trouble" again, and that trouble leads to a surprising turn of events.

Content/Warnings: use of pet name "Pumpkin," established relationship, explicit smut (vaginal intercourse, clit play, light biting, unprotected sex, implied oral - male receiving), light dirty talk

Notes: Remember last October when I wrote three drabbles the same way (soft, soft!dark, and dark)? Well, then last week I answered some asks that got me thinking about you and soft Lloyd - first, one about a neighbor leaving Lloyd a Christmas gift and then about some of my characters around Christmas time. So... they have more story now.

A/N: The first offering in my Birthday Jubilee collection!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“God damnit, Pumpkin,” Lloyd huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling as you set down the brown paper bag with actual groceries onto the counter. Next to that, you carefully unload the two new plants you’d been carrying in the other arm.

“You are not allowed to go to the store unsupervised anymore! You get new plants every time, without fail!”

“Not every time,” you say, turning to look at him with the most innocent face you can muster. “Only maybe three out of four times. Sometimes only half the time.”

He puts his hands on his hips and cocks his head to the side, frowning, but you don’t see actual fire behind the frown, so you put your hands on his shoulders and raise up on your tiptoes to swiftly kiss his cheek.

You grin broadly as you settle back to your normal height in front of him.

“I’ve never seen an aralla fabian stump, and look at how gorgeous and big this calathea is! And they were both such a good deal!”

Lloyd rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches up. “And where do you plan on even putting these?” He glances around the apartment, which has become a veritable jungle. “There’s no room.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“You are intolerable,” he says, and swats your ass as you maneuver around him to put the eggs in the fridge.

“And yet you put a ring on this finger anyway!” you reply, flashing your left hand.

Lloyd's eyes narrow, a predatory glint appearing as he stalks towards you. "I did, didn't I?" he purrs, backing you against the refrigerator. "And do you know why?"

You swallow hard, feeling heat pool in your belly at his proximity. "Why?" you manage to squeak out.

His large hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Because you're mine," he growls. "Every stubborn, plant-obsessed inch of you."

Before you can respond, Lloyd's mouth is on yours, hot and demanding. You melt into him, fingers clutching at his shirt as he presses you more firmly against the fridge. His knee wedges between your thighs, and you can't help but grind against it, seeking friction.

Lloyd breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck. "What am I going to do with you, Pumpkin?" he murmurs against your skin.

You tilt your head, giving him better access. "I can think of a few things," you say breathlessly, rolling your hips against his thigh.

Lloyd chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I bet you can." His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips. In one swift motion, he lifts you up, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

He carries you to the kitchen island, setting you down on the cool surface. His eyes roam over you hungrily, and you feel your pulse quicken under his intense gaze.

"These clothes," he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt, "need to go."

You raise your arms obediently, allowing him to pull your shirt over your head. He makes quick work of your bra as well, tossing it aside carelessly. His hands immediately come up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Lloyd leans in, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss as his fingers work at the button of your jeans. You lift your hips, allowing him to tug them down along with your underwear. He breaks the kiss to pull them off completely, leaving you naked and exposed on the kitchen counter.

His eyes rake over your body, drinking in every inch of you. "Fucking beautiful," he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You reach for him, tugging at his shirt. "Your turn," you say breathlessly.

Lloyd smirks, stepping back just out of your reach. He slowly unbuttons his shirt, maintaining eye contact as he reveals his muscular chest inch by tantalizing inch.

You bite your lip, watching hungrily as Lloyd strips off his shirt. His toned chest and abs are on full display, and you can't help but reach out to run your hands over his warm skin. Lloyd allows it for a moment before catching your wrists and pinning them behind your back with one large hand.

"Patience, Pumpkin," he growls, his free hand working at his belt buckle.

You squirm on the counter, desperate for his touch. "Lloyd, please," you whimper.

He chuckles darkly as he pushes his pants and boxers down, freeing his already hard cock. "So needy," he teases, stepping between your spread legs. "Is this what you want?"

He rubs the head of his cock against your wet folds, and you moan, trying to push your hips forward. But Lloyd's grip on your wrists tightens, holding you in place. "Ah ah," he tuts. "Not yet."

You whine in frustration, but Lloyd just smirks, clearly enjoying your desperation. He continues to tease you, running his cock along your slick folds but never quite giving you what you need.

"Lloyd," you plead, voice breathy. "Please, I need you."

His eyes darken at your words. "Tell me exactly what you need, Pumpkin. I want to hear you say it."

Heat floods your cheeks, but the ache between your legs overrides any embarrassment. Besides, he’s your husband and you’ve let him do things to you you’d never dreamed of.

"I need you inside me," you gasp. "Please, fuck me. I want to feel you stretching me open, filling me up. I need it. I need you."

A low growl rumbles in Lloyd's chest. "Good girl.”

Lloyd's eyes flash with desire as he finally relents, pushing into you with one smooth thrust. You cry out at the delicious stretch, your head falling back as he fills you completely.

"Fuck, Pumpkin," Lloyd groans, releasing your wrists to grip your hips. "So tight for me, always so perfect."

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close as he starts to move. His thrusts are deep and measured at first, but quickly pick up speed as your moans of pleasure fill the kitchen.

"Yes, yes, just like that," you pant, meeting him thrust for thrust. The edge of the counter digs into your thighs, but you hardly notice, lost in the exquisite friction of Lloyd moving inside you.

Lloyd's mouth finds your neck, sucking and biting as he pounds into you relentlessly. One hand snakes between your bodies to rub circles on your clit, and you cry out at the added stimulation.

"That's it, baby," Lloyd murmurs against your skin. "Let me hear you."

Your nails dig into his back as the pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Lloyd's thrusts become more erratic, his breathing ragged against your neck.

"Come for me, Pumpkin," he growls. "I want to feel you clench and cream my cock."

His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, send you over the edge. You cry out Lloyd's name as your orgasm washes over you, your inner walls gripping him like a vice.

Lloyd groans, burying himself deep inside you as he follows you over the edge. You feel the warmth of his release as he pulses inside you, his hips jerking with aftershocks.

For a moment, you both stay still, panting and clinging to each other as you come down from your shared high. Lloyd's forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your face.

"I love you," you murmur, nuzzling his nose with yours.

Lloyd's lips curve into a soft smile. "I love you too, Pumpkin. Even if you do insist on turning our place into a god damn greenhouse."

You giggle, running your fingers through his hair. "You love it. Admit it."

He rolls his eyes but doesn't deny it. He helps you down from the counter, steadying you when your legs wobble slightly. As you start to reach for your discarded clothes, Lloyd scoops you up in his arms.

"Where are we going?" you ask, giggling as Lloyd carries you naked through the apartment.

"Shower," he says simply. "We're both a mess, and I'm not done with you yet."

Your pulse quickens at his words. "Oh?"

Lloyd's eyes gleam wickedly as he sets you down in the bathroom. "Nope. And we need to make the most of this shower while we can.

“Wait, what?”

He shrugs. “Well, since you insist on bringing home new plants all the time, we’re clearly going to need a bigger place.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a mix of excitement and uncertainty fluttering in your chest. "A house? Really?"

Lloyd turns on the shower, steam quickly filling the small bathroom. He guides you under the warm spray, his large hands running soap over your skin. "Really," he confirms, a smile playing at his lips. "I know a guy in real estate. He's been sending me listings for weeks now."

"Weeks?" you sputter, both from shock and from the water cascading over your face. "You've been planning this?"

Lloyd chuckles, working shampoo into your hair. "You didn't think I'd let you keep cramming plants into this shoebox forever, did you?" His fingers massage your scalp, and you can't help but moan and lean into his touch. "Clearly we need room to expand. Maybe even a real garden."

The idea makes your heart race with excitement. "A garden? With actual soil and everything?"

Lloyd laughs, the sound echoing off the shower walls. "Yes, Pumpkin. Actual soil. Maybe we can even get you one of those fancy greenhouses."

You squeal with delight, throwing your arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses.

“Get you real dirty, fuck you beneath the begonias or something, how does that sound, Pumpkin?”

“How does that sound? Let me show you, Mr. Hansen,” you say, as you sink to your knees in front of him.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Credit for this little idea fully goes to @stargazingfangirl18 who planted the seed in my head after I shared I'd just indulged in buying FOUR new plants while at Trader Joe's this past Monday... though I don't think she expected this! 🤣

all Welcome Home, Pumpkin stories

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[jazeswhbhaven]

Hi!! Could I ask for a headcanon with the Kings and maybe some nobles of your preference with a MC that is a little bit feral (like when they get angry they growl or bark like a dog and bite people hard) idk, in my head it's funny to imagine MC biting hard without let them go when gets angry or barking like a chihuahua XD

Sorry for the bad English btw

No worries anon, your English is fine! Thank you so much for waiting on this. Lol chihuahua MC sounds like something cute for the kings and nobles to deal with~

Nobles first!

Sitri: He's so used to Satan biting him that it didn't even register when a pissed off MC tackled him and bit into his arm after being told "no" to something. Naturally, Sitri just stares, processes and then ends up blushing because it reminds him of when his Majesty takes a huge bite out of him for his blood. The bite doesn't hurt obviously and MC barely broke the skin, but now it appears that Sitri's got a biting kink...

Glasyalabolas: It's quite comical to see MC attempt to bark and bite this huge devil on his shins after he said something to intentionally piss them off. It seems that he does it on purpose because he finds it cute that they even try. In the end, all he does is pick them up by their shirt and smile while offering a "treat". This may or may not piss off MC even more though.

Naberius: What could go wrong with MC being feral and biting Nabe? What do you mean he growls back and barks and it becomes serious like watching a dogfight take place? What do you mean that Nabe ends up winning and it turns into something....spicy. Well at least MC tried it and got the results they possibly wanted. Neither party remembers why they were mad in the first place.

Kings time!

Satan: Growling? Biting? Don't you mean that MC is flirting with him at this point...those aren't even fighting words for Satan when it comes to MC. Each bite mark, each growl and scratch is nothing but a love language.

Mammon: This king finds it absolutely adorable that MC is barking and growling, even hissing when trying to make a point that they're angry. All he does is pat them on the head and there's even a point where he considers buying them a collar if they insist on behaving like a bad pet.

Beelzebub: Again, another king that doesn't find any issue with MC being feral when upset. His cute human just expresses themselves best that way and it's up to him to "train" them to bite the correct places if they want a reaction. Yeah, he means it in that way. No he doesn't intend on fixing MC, just making them worse.

Leviathan: Now, when it comes to him? There will be no behavior like that at all around him. If MC wants to get upset properly, then they should do it like he those and throw insults and give idle threats. But he doesn't want MC to do that either. If they're upset, they are expected to just deal with it. He's raised a feral demon before...he has no problem dealing with MC.

Lucifer: Yeah uh, this got shut down quickly. MC only growled once at him and never did it again. Lucifer didn't have to do much except stare at them with a disapproving look. MC was pretty much like a puppy with their tail tucked between their legs.

Belphegor: He likes cats more than he does any other animal, so MC's barking and biting annoys him. He can't handle their attitude when upset so he just sits on them until they stop. Problem with this is he falls asleep on MC, so they're stuck there for a while until Beleth can come and remove the heavy assed king off of them.

Asmodeus: MC being upset didn't even last two seconds. Once they started barking and growling, he took that as a challenge to do some roleplay and bring MC into submission. Sometimes he'll really get into it and have some pet play in there as well. MC forgot why they were upset.

[lovlidollie]

⭑ 2. PUSHING DAISIES ; rafe cameron

series masterlist | previous | next

━━ CW ; drug consumption , barry enabling , angst .

there’s some things you just can’t medicate / it’s never enough / i don’t think you understand / all the things that you could have had ━━ pushing daises , flower face

the first time you found him at barry’s, you thought it was just a fluke. a choice born from an amalgamation of ward’s disapproval and constant dismissal of rafe, and the sheer stress of dealing with whatever the hell his sister was getting up to. you hadn’t seen that part of him before, the hungry, ravenous creature lurking beneath his skin. he was good at hiding his problems when it came to you. you’d dragged him out, hands trembling against his blank face as you’d told him that he was okay, that you’d help. you’d begged, made him promise that he wouldn’t do it again.

as you find yourself outside that godforsaken trailer weeks later, bitter december air biting at your cheeks, you’re reminded of the fact that rafe cameron is a liar and that you should have known better. the silhouette behind the fogged up window shows a body bent over lines that are more familiar to him than your face has been in days.

you hated being in there. hated the stench of the trailer, the humid warmth that never went away, and you hated the way barry’s lecherous gaze clung to you like smoke. he never bothered to hide it either, lazily manspreading into his rickety chair with a smug smirk. “rafe.” your voice cuts through the muffled bass of whatever trash is playing through barry’s ancient speakers. it’s sharp, shaking with anger and fear.

he’s on the couch, black shirt half unbuttoned with a sheen of sweat over his skin, rolled up bill pinched between his fingers. he doesn’t even react to your presence. rafe’s hands tremble as he goes to wipe his nose, trying to compose himself as if you hadn’t seen it all before. as if the white dust smudged across the coffee table wasn’t proof enough.

you don’t even wait for him to speak, to garble out half-assed excuses. “i can’t do this anymore,” your voice cracks on the last word, tears threatening to spill from your waterline.

“do what?” his words are slurred, but the confusion in his eyes is real. rafe tilts his head, greasy bangs falling across his face, like a child hearing something they can’t quite comprehend. “this. us,” you press your lips together, fists shaking at your sides. “you could have so much more than this. so much more. you’re throwing away everything, your friends, your family — me. you don’t belong here, ray.”

your gaze flickers to barry, who chuckles low in his throat. “wastin’ y’breath, sweetheart,” he drawls, tone full of condescension. “y’boy’s right where he wants t’be.”

“shut the fuck up, barry!” you snap harshly, unable to stop the venomous outburst. rafe’s head lolls back against the couch, eyes fluttering and eyebrows furrowing. “rafe, please. just — jus’ come back. we can get you help, proper help, ‘n it can all go back to normal,” you plead with him, taking another step towards him. you try not to think about how many chances you’ve already given him, how you’ve forgiven him over and over again.

his lids peel open, and for a moment he just stares at you, once bright blue eyes now dim and glassy and dead. you start to wonder if he even heard you, but then he shifts. his hand twitches on his lap, as if he wants to reach for you but just doesn’t have the strength. your heart flutters with hope, but rafe shakes his head, a bitter smile twisting at his lips.

“go home, baby,” he whispers with finality. “y’can’t save me.”

just like that, the fight drains out of you and the hope drips from the cavity in your chest. a tear falls down the slope of your cheek when you realise that this was the fate rafe was enslaving himself to. you turn on your heel and walk out, vision blurry and a buzz in your ears. the door slams shut behind you as barry’s terrible laugh echoes and haunts you into the night.

[domoriu]

thinking about jaehyun… who just needs to be filled up all the time like the whore he is.

cw. smut mdni ! sub!jaehyun gn!reader, anal play & toys used on jaehyun

the boy was so cockdrunk, no matter what you did he’d somehow always want more. your lubed up fingers stretching his hole out while he trembles under your touch.

“more, more” he pokes his ass out as a way to convince you, you’re already three fingers deep and you know at this rate he’d probably want all of your fingers.

sliding your fingers out of the boy, you decide he’s prepped enough for the dildo you had bought just for him. he whimpers at the loss of contact, burying his face into the pillows while he waits for you to lube up the silicone before pressing it against his hole.

jaehyun loves being filled up. ever since the first time he tried it with you he just knew he’d want to be filled up all the time. and then he started getting greedy, needing more and more — longer, thicker, harder, he doesn’t even need to touch his cock in order to cum when you fuck him, abusing his prostate until he’s making a mess all over the sheets, your hands, and his tummy.

like now, tears fill jaehyuns waterline as he squirms. he can’t move much with the way you have him tied to a chair, stuffed to the hilt with a dildo suctioned to the seat. every time he moves the silicone moves in him, rubbing against his walls so deliciously. the pleasure he was feeling is only amplified with the vibrating cock ring you put on him, bucking his hips into the air. he cant tell where his last orgasm ends and his next one starts, but he can’t complain when it feels so good.

“be a good boy and fuck my hand, hyunnie” your words ring through his ears and he barely hears you, but he’s still attentive even when he’s so overstimulated. he looks down and sees your hand so close to his cock, tip red and leaking and practically begging for your touch. he does what he’s told, raising his hips so his cock fits into the O shape you have your hand in, sliding against the skin before moving back down.

he can barely handle all the stimulation, the drag of his cock against your hand with each raise of his hips mixed with the way he sinks back down onto the cock inside of him, stretching him out so good and deep, and then the low vibrations from the cock ring were just so much for him. he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, and you coo at his dazed state.

“mmph, cum- gonna cum-“ jaehyun bites his lip, trying to distract himself from the way you stare at him and how he can hear the sounds from his skin making contact with the bottom of the chair.

“that’s it, cum all over my hand baby… make a mess for me” and with a tight squeeze around his cock he’s cumming, bottoming out around the silicone toy as he drips all down your hand. he grinds his hips as he rides his orgasm out, slowly coming back to reality through his blurred vision. you tsk when his hips come to a stop, using your free hand to pinch his outer thigh and he yelps.

“ah ah, dont slow down. i know you can take some more, cant you? my little slut can take all that i give him, right?”

for @zynz0 …. im feeling evil rn 🙂‍↕️ this is kinda formatted weird sorry i hope its still good <3 🤓

also !!! do you guys fw gn!reader… i feel like if its focused on the idol mainly then adding fem reader isnt too important :3

[bisexualbrainrots]

so, I got inspired by this ask from cj's page so, here it goes pt 1, next will be sketches.

cw: mentions of drug use.

He looked gorgeous from here. 

Oliver brushed his fingers against the curve of Lou’s back, the sweaty skin shining brighter thanks to the morning sun lurking between the curtains. His other hand was gripping tight at his hip as he thrusted deeply into the older. 

They'd woken up really pent-up that day. It was almost ridiculous, considering they ended up exhausted from another night of ill-advised high sex, thanks to Lou’s stash.

It was great nonetheless, it was always great with Lou, and that annoyed Oliver sometimes. No matter how much they wanted to stop this thing that started months ago, they always ended up tangled against the other.

Lou's muffled moan brought him back to the present, back to the feel of Lou's insides clenching around his cock, which made Oliver spank the older, getting a cry as a response.

“Fuck, Lou…” he groaned, fucking into him faster and more desperately, he was gonna come soon and he wanted to do it to the feel of Lou's tight asshole twitching around him.

Oliver lifted Lou's hips a bit, making him bury his face deeper into the pillow. He reached for the older's cock and twisted his wrist, whimpering at how thick it felt, left neglected for like 10 minutes at that point.

He relished at the sounds coming out of Lou's mouth when he found that spot, sobs and screams of pleasure that penetrated his brain like a sweet melody. 

“O-Oliver…” a loud moan made him go harder, pulling a trail of uh uh uh’s from the older as he practically drilled into him “Shit, Oliver I'm gonna come, mhm, fuck– Oliver!”

The younger gasped and whimpered when he felt the way Lou clenched around him, pulsing and pulsing as he kept going. 

He took his hand off Lou's now flaccid cock and raised it to eye level, admiring the way his come looked on his hand, that gave him an idea.

“Lou, look at me… c'mon look at me” when the older propped himself on his elbows and turned his head to look,  he licked his hand sucking on his fingers, maintaining eye contact. He saw the way Lou's eyes darkened completely, not a hint of the blue in them.

Lou clenched harder around him, and in very few thrusts the younger was coming inside of the older.

Oliver was in heaven.

He collapsed onto Lou when he finished riding the orgasm wave, with his chest heaving.

He started trading kisses around Lou’s nape, his shoulder blades, his sweaty scalp, his temple and finished with his shoulder, giving it a little bite. He loved to mark the older, making it a reminder for anyone that came along.

He pulled out slowly, looking at the way his come started dripping out of Lou, and he cursed in a whisper. 

It was the first time they'd done it without protection, penetratively speaking. They've had their fair share of intercrural sex and frotting, but this was the first time they decided to ditch the condoms. 

They've been fucking for months at this point, and from what they've told the other there weren't any other people. That made Oliver feel warm inside, like there was a chance between them. 

Even though he would never say it to him.

“You don't know how great you look from here Lou, fuck, makes me want to… wait” he stood up, legs shaking but the sudden burst of energy made it easier to ignore.

He went to get his camera and came back to find Lou in that same pose, scrolling down his phone. The older looked at him and smirked, his eyebrow raised, “What? You want to do an improv photoshoot?”

Oliver chuckled, opening the curtains to let the sun shower over Lou “I’m feeling inspired here” he instructed the older on the pose, just keeping his face on the pillow for the first clicks, the next ones with his head tilted to look at the camera.

He took a look at the pictures and sighed, Lou looked incredible. His skin was glowing against the sunlight, the curvature of his back accentuated his ass which had his hand printed on it, and Oliver's come was leaking out of him.

He looked strong, hot and so sexy. Lou was sex in those pictures.

Too bad no one would ever see them.

But Oliver didn't mind, not when he had immortalized the perfection that is Lou Ferrigno Jr in his most vulnerable state.

That afternoon he made a copy of the photos and gave them to Lou, who bit his lips at the sight. 

He now wanted to take more pictures, and would do so as long as the older wanted to. He would for as long as this thing kept going.

Oliver hoped it would last forever though.

also on AO3.

[izvmimi]

momentum - izuku x reader

cw: very slightly canon divergent. post-chapter 431. friends to situationship to lovers. missed connection. angst with eventual happy ending. original character(s). bakugou as perhaps too good (and too bad) of a friend, but remains platonic. reader went to med school. selfship-coded. female!reader. alcohol mention. a/n: part 1 of likely 2. 3.1k words.

For what is worth, despite all the years you’ve spent trying to give Katsuki a taste of his own medicine, he’s grown to be a trusted and dear friend of yours, which tonight just may turn out to be his biggest mistake.

He’s been at this bar with you for close to an hour by now, and while you’d stumbled in here haughtily, acting as though you weren’t the one demanding to see him well after work hours (it’s nearing 9:30pm, close to his bedtime for a Thursday night, and he had to leave his house for this), now you’ve slumped onto the bar counter, your eyes looking directly ahead, a pout on your face.

Your eyes shine wet in the dim light but you haven’t explicitly cried yet, but he knows it’s coming. You’re one of the most dramatic women he’s ever known - save for your friend that he’s rather uncomfortably fond of - and even the reason why you’re out together is a sign of that.

You sip the last of a Long Island Iced Tea through a straw dejectedly, then turn to him.

“Kacchan…”

He braces himself, taking his last swig of beer, knowing that when you use his friend’s childhood moniker, it only precedes a ridiculous statement.

You bring a finger onto the counter and trace a circle onto the hardwood before looking at him and a shiver practically runs down his spine.

“Yes?”

“Am I ugly?”

He groans, and you sit up quickly and pout. “Is that a yes?!”

He rolls his eyes and does not bother to answer, instead focusing on a group across the bar that appears to have recognized him. Secretly, he hopes no one will ask him for an autograph, having recently been told to work on his demeanor while in the general public, but he’s already starting to develop a headache between you and Izuku asking him to come out to talk.

“You’re not ugly,” he says, flatly.

You don’t seem satisfied by this answer. Pressing further, you lean in a bit closer.

“Okay, well what if we-”

Katsuki’s eyes immediately narrow as he picks up on your intention. “No.”

He can practically see your cheeks darken in the dim light as, flustered, you fire back, your hands on your hips as you balance on the barstool.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

He raises his eyebrows and you lower your voice then slump back onto the counter. “Fine, be that way.”

Katsuki’s limit has finally been reached.

“Okay, listen to me right now.” 

You look up at him and he’s annoyed enough that you actually feel embarrassed, running your hand through your hair. You’re being unreasonable, whiny, pouty even, all because a man you’ve pretended not to like for nearly a decade actually believed you and considered moving on with someone else. Katsuki is gracious enough to have tolerated your whining this far, but perhaps this might have been the last straw, and you’d deserve it.

“One, I’m not going to fuck you to make Izuku jealous, firstly because I’m not interested, secondly because YOU’RE not interested and thirdly because I’m not taking a rain check on a future ass-beating when the two of you do eventually get together.”

Your mouth opens and he raises a finger. 

“Shut up for a second, let me finish.” You bite your lip but nod, and he continues.

“Two, both of you need to talk to each other, not to me.”

Your eyes flutter. “What has he been saying?”

Katsuki’s eyes open widely and you let that thought die, curiosity truly being the killer of many cats, and potentially you. He continues further.

“Three, we’re leaving, you’re drunk and pissing me off.”

With that Katsuki gets up and you drag yourself off of your own chair, his stern gaze on you somehow steadying you better than an actual hand on your shoulder would. Slinging your purse over your shoulder, you remember that you have to make sure not to look upset or too drunk lest the two of you end up in the tabloids, the same way Izuku and Ochaco’s mere handshake in the square ended up in the tabloids and messed up your entire week.

Despite this, Katsuki steps aside for you to walk in front of him, his hands in his pockets as you walk out. 

…when the two of you eventually do get together.

How can he be so sure, you think?

You should ask, but you don’t. Instead, you get into the passenger seat of his car and buckle before Katsuki can tell you to.

You can’t stop thinking about Izuku and Ochaco together. A date last weekend with a so-called investment banker with an ego bigger than his financial portfolio didn’t help, calling your mother and your female best friend and venting your feelings didn’t help, and you’re not sure this particular conversation with Katsuki is helping at all. 

Although he seems to know something you don’t know, and always has, ever since he asked you about your own very blatant crush on his friend.  

You have to tell him first.

Katsuki had maintained this while you oversaw one of his last physiotherapy sessions years ago. All you had asked was an innocuous question about Izuku, and Katsuki had surprised you by telling you it was time to make your intentions clear, that way you could ask those questions yourself. Natural dispersion after graduation had made it easier for you to lose touch from the others, especially since you’d chosen not to go the route of joining hero agencies, so it wasn’t an unreasonable question, and you’d felt quite taken aback.

But he had a point, and you’d taken the point enough that you’d reached out to Midoriya that evening enough to become friends. Friends enough that you knew everyone of his students’ names by heart, even if that offer as UA’s part-time school nurse is still pending, friends enough that his mother calls you for every ache and pain or just to say hello, friends enough that tubs of ice cream in the flavor only he likes are taking up valuable space in the freezer.

Friends, but you know what his lips feel like still when you’d ‘kissed’ and quickly wrote it off as a desperate use of your quirk.

Friends, but here you were lamenting because if he wanted you, he had to be the one to tell you first.

And clearly that hasn’t worked out for the best.

“Why haven’t you told me to get over him yet?” you ask Katsuki finally, breaking the silence in the car. Your voice is soft, perhaps the depressive effects of alcohol setting in.

He keeps his eyes focused on the road.

A few days ago, he and Izuku were at the same bar, and Izuku was asking him for advice.

“I feel nervous, like I’m forgetting something crucial.” Izuku pauses, takes another sip of beer. “I haven’t talked to a girl in years that way and I just-”

Katsuki frowns at the thought. Even then he’d felt guilty - something about offering his friend relationship tips knowing full well how much you love him while keeping your mouth firmly shut feels wrong, but it’s of your own accord.

It shouldn’t come from him, he decides. If his friend shoots his shot at the wrong hoop, it’s not on him. And after all, even if he’s convinced himself that you are perfect for each other, what does he know?

And yet you look at him expectantly and he frowns.

“I don’t know. Maybe you should move on,” Katsuki says. He watches your face visibly pucker and his eyes shift back to the road.

—

“Can you delay any longer?” your friend asks you, leaning in over a steaming mug of hot chocolate. The way her breasts look in her low cut nightie is distracting even to you, so you can’t imagine how Katsuki felt when he shoved your inebriated self into her arms for safekeeping, leaving without much more than a grumble but a clearly protracted look away from her face. You tuck the idea of teasing him away for safekeeping in the corner of your mind and answer your friend’s question at hand.

“I think I’m just going to say no,” you offer, stirring your own hot chocolate. You’ve mostly sobered up by now, but the discomfort is still there now that it’s out in the open. 

Maybe you should move on, you repeat Katsuki’s words in your head.

Considering that you’ve been in love with the same boy for almost half your life, you doubt it’ll come easy. 

“Just because of him?” your friend exclaims. “___!”

“Don’t get your tits all in disarray, it’s not just because of him,” you lie frankly. “I’ve been hesitating for a while and it’s probably too distracting to have too many gigs all at once. After all, your company still uses me for consulting and I have the clinic and I’ve considered getting on the field…” you trail off as she raises an eyebrow, shockingly reminiscent of your surlier friend from earlier today.

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. But then a couple moments pass, and she smiles again.

“Okay but did they look good though?”

You give her an annoyed look but her smile is so genuine your frown cracks and you end up giggling.

“Amazing, actually, I know Mr. ‘Routine and Discipline’ is not going to sleep at a reasonable time tonight.”

She blushes and you laugh.

Crawling into bed together later that night, you find yourself staring at the ceiling a little too long.

“Stop thinking about him,” she hisses without even turning. “Or I’ll send you home before you put bad energy into my house. Ran out of sage.”

You sigh loudly, then wrap your arms a little too tightly around her shoulders.

“You’re right! And speaking of bad energy, just so you don’t hear this misconstrued from someone else, I did ask ‘Bold and Brash’ if he would help participate in revenge fucking and-”

You don’t finish your sentence, promptly kicked out of bed, which has you bursting into louder laughter.

“He said no, very quickly, might I add.”

“He should have said yes, what a missed opportunity,” your friend says, but she leans over to help you back in, knowing you would never have meant it in the slightest.

You nuzzle your face into her back cloyingly. “He was very upset, probably thinking about you the whole time.”

You can practically feel her rolling her eyes into the back of her head but she doesn’t push you away and soon, you both doze off.

—

Two weeks have passed since the UA reunion and it’s blatantly obvious to Izuku that you are actively avoiding him. 

In the first week, he’d been foolish enough to think something was truly wrong, that perhaps something awful had happened to you that he’d be the first one to notice, sending increasingly more concerned texts after many hours then days passed before you bothered to return his message, culminating in him showing up at your doorstep with fried chicken and the sparkling soda you prefer over beer in hand.

An update to your Instagram story with your best friend from the inside of your apartment he no longer had access to made it quite clear that you were busy entertaining anything but him.

Katsuki had reassured him nothing was wrong with your phone, saying nothing more to him to assuage the situation. Izuku had found this suspicious, but wasn’t sure exactly what to say to him that sounded any more substantial and non-whiny as the simple words:

Why won’t she talk to me?

In the second week, Izuku would find himself a bit too concerned with every one of your social media updates, his stomach in knots as he watches your bright smile in video after video, old and new, the sight of his own face and voice far too frequent in your archives only worsening the firm twist in his intestines.

He didn’t realize how close the two of you truly were until suddenly you were no longer.

He could delude himself into believing that you were simply just that busy, but no one is, not you who naturally makes time for anyone you love no matter how busy your schedule gets. When his thoughts drift to the foreign arm in some of your most recent pics, he’s quick to slip some sneakers on and go for a run and as more days go by it’s harder and harder to outrun his thoughts. 

Jealousy is an ugly emotion, one he intentionally gave up when it came to you years ago.

When you finally respond to his messages with something clear, direct and painful in its professionalism stating that you appreciate him caring for you all this time but for now you may need some space, something lying deep within his chest feels far uglier than jealousy but far more vulnerable and tender than the smallest of newborn babes.

…

Four weeks pass, and he’s sitting with Ochaco over afternoon coffee, who is gushing over an admittedly gorgeous woman she’s met at a civilian safety conference, and Izuku encourages her to make the trip to Australia to meet her. By the end of their second date, they’d found that there was not much in common aside from collective trauma, and a kiss on the cheek had enticed more, but their lips meeting had felt wrong, and arms wrapped around each other had felt bulky and awkward. Comforting somewhat, but more like a hug between siblings than anything else and clearly lacking passion. 

Izuku, optimistic as always, may have imagined that it might have gotten better over time, but Ochaco had quickly said what they were both thinking.

“That wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.”

The good humor in her voice made it impossible to be embarrassed but it was clear romance would not be in the cards for the two of them. 

Izuku woke up the next morning with the sensation of his lips tingling, remembering the spark of your Quirk coursing through the length of his body, and everything he’s been trying to deny as the reality of his situation, crashes into him at once.

—

Today, you have the genuine blessing of being on a date and this man genuinely, in no uncertain terms, sucks ass. 

“Naturally if you invest in stock in these three venues, there is no possible way your financial profile won’t grow, but I understand that this might be a difficult topic for someone such as yourself,” he starts, and you raise an eyebrow, but he continues to wax poetic about investment schemes that start to sound suspiciously close to insider trading, and you instead let your eyes glaze over, a piece of bread dipped in oil stuffed in your mouth.

Perhaps you just have remarkably bad taste.

When the two of you part ways, and you plan to immediately never see him again, you’re quickly texting your friend the beats of the date, a to-go bag hanging on your forearm as you let the train take you home.

“I think I’m going to give up on dating completely because I feel like at this point this is a sign. You know he expected me to pay the bill and said, verbatim, I “make enough” per my profile so I should consider taking him out to show I’m different from the rest of the other girls he’s considering talking to. Mind you, this is the same guy trying to give me a finance 101 lesson I didn’t ask for an entire hour.”

The elaboration comes on a Facetime call, as you kick off your heels and pull down your updo, a bobby pin dropping and bouncing on your apartment floor and out of reach. She grimaces as you bend over to look. 

“And let me guess, you actually paid.”

You rise up and scoff.

“What was I supposed to do? Argue? I was trying to get out of there.” You sigh. “I’m soooooooooooooo sick of going on these dates,” you insist.

“I mean the easy solution to this is to… I dunno, perhaps tell one freckled dumbass that you actually care about him.”

There’s a quick pause in the conversation before you quickly reply, “I told you this was a forbidden topic,” then add, “Especially since I literally don’t.”

Your friend sighs then mimes flicking at the screen of her phone. “Shut up. A month is enough time to persist on this tsundere act. If you didn’t have any feelings this stonewalling would be completely meaningless by now… In fact, I’m tired of supporting it!”

“Well, it’s not like you’re having to do anything.” You’re rolling your eyes as you reach for makeup wipes.

“Do you know exactly how hard it is to be mean to Midoriya? Not all of us have scorn to carry us through.”

You look away from the mirror to glare at her for a moment, and she grimaces, then double downs.

“Don’t act like I’m not right.”

You go back to washing your face, then look at her again.

“All I’m saying is it takes a conversation. You love him and from the looks of how hard he’s trying to get into your good graces again, calling both me and Katsuki-”

“How’s he, by the way?” you interject.

“We weren’t talking about me,” is her flat response.

“We are now, lovebutt,” you insist after a splash of water onto your face. Your friend gives you a long look, then tells you she’ll speak to you later when you’re sensible and you laugh as she disappears off the screen.

She’s just as flighty as you are, you think.

Contrary to popular belief (literally just your own expectations), a month without Midoriya is harder than you anticipated. The very towel you dry your face with right now was bought for you as a gift from a toiletry specialty shop on one of his missions, extra soft and delicate enough that it’s one of your favorites, and as you pad through your apartment, you subconsciously take notes of all the things in your apartment that are either his or touched by him.

An extra pair of dress shoes in the genkan from when he fell asleep on your couch despite having class the next day, an unnecessary precaution; the slightly imperfect hanging of your medical school graduation photo he’d helped you with; stuffed animals on your couch you’d won on multiple outings together over the past decade; scratch paper in a small box below your coffee table from his impromptu long-winded stories to help you keep track.

Perhaps this is a testament to the fact that you were always far too emotionally reliant on him, even if he doesn’t love you the way you love him, and perhaps you should work on clearing your home. 

But that’s an issue for tomorrow’s you to handle, you tell yourself as you crawl into bed and indulge yourself in a book.

[mrslaflour]

scene I cut out of the first grape party that I lowkey regret 🥶

warnings — noncon, anal, forced oral (male receiving), crying

(when referring to “he”, it’s yeonjun just for some context)

“lick it.”

“wh—what?”

he had your head floating over his dick while on your knees. it was hard as hell to balance. you’d probably fall face first into his dick and he’d hold you there and let you suffocate. beomgyu was holding your hands behind your back, tight ass grip on your wrists. he was rubbing his finger and teasing your tiny little ass hole. you could only imagine what was to come.

“did i stutter?”

you still held yourself up just to float above it and he grips your hair between his fingers. god it burned. tears dripping all over his dick you start to lick it up. you kept the same slow, slow pace overall until he slapped you. telling you to pick up the pace and move faster.

“fuck— that’s better. makes you look like a cock hungry little whore. god i wish i could take a picture.”

you suck the air through your teeth and keep the pace. his grip on your hair still burningly tight. it started to become easy to disassociate but that was until you got this burning pain in your ass and you when to scream, but yeonjun just forces your head down and mouth onto his dick to cut you off. your eyes were wide open and it had to be one of the worst pains that you ever felt in your life.

“god, your ass is s’fucking tight—”

he slaps your ass. it was beomgyu that cheeky fuck. you had a face full of cock in your mouth and and ass full of it. you were stuffed. you thought about biting down but you knew he’d probably kill you a throw you out into some random ally. you tried to scream while on his cock. and it only made him grip your hair tighter. mumbling a string of curses. the vibration around his dick only making him feel all the more better. he didn’t even offer to let you do it yourself, he just moved your head up and down his dick using the grip he had on your hair. using you like their own personal sex doll. yeonjun was greatful as fuck for beomgyu right about now because one, all his thrusting into your ass was causing your head to move on his dick a little, and two, the pain you felt from him stretching your little ass hole out made you scream and cry all over his dick and the vibrations made him feel like he was on cloud fucking nine. everytime he felt the lightest graze of teeth when you thought he couldn’t grip your hair any harder, he did. your jaw was hurting trying to force it as wide as you could to keep from your teeth grazing him, so much drool dribbling out of your mouth. there was literally a swimming pool starting to form on his dick from all the drool you were leaving behind.

—

[nerrissadevampyre]

Koulis won with over 40% pls someone tell me this is a nightmare or someone just likes messing with the timelines bc 🥲

[dennisboobs]

I'll be honest the whole argument about it being imperative that the gang never "wins" is still so fucking stupid to me. did you watch 3x01 with your eyes closed. dennis has "won" before, and it ruled, actually. why do we need broad ass arguments like this trying to pin down sunny when there's like. countless examples to the contrary to show it's been like this the whole time.

[shima-draws]

Clawing my eyes out student loans are back with a vengeance so now I'm going to be SUPER broke paying off rent, normal bills, medical bills AND student loans. Lying face down in a river is starting to sound very appealing