#bitting my fingernails off <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[phantom-peachie]

listening to fma openings and endings on loop bro im sick like no frontal lobe

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!nanny!reader, married!toji ( rich toji too lmao hot take ), age gap, noncon, dacryphilia, virginity loss, heavy breeding kink, bondage, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day twenty-two [ toji fushiguro + breeding ]

you probably should’ve kept your mouth shut. you should’ve bit the bullet and swallowed your pride when Toji said he couldn’t pay you any earlier than Friday for babysitting the kids. no, couldn’t had not been his word of choice. he wouldn’t pay you before Friday. Toji was loaded with cash. you’d never bothered to ask him how he made his living, but you knew that he had plenty and his massive mansion would not be snatched up by the bank if the prick gave you your well earned three hundred and twenty dollars on a Wednesday instead of a Friday.

and you’d told him so.

which had landed you in the position you’re in now.

on a few occasions, Toji or his wife had asked you to tidy up around the house and that included their bedroom. the room was massive and luxurious, with a king size bed in the center of the room. you’d seen plenty of oddities in there— handcuffs here, a flogger there, vibrators in the drawers and even a black, pleather bench with seatbelt-like straps hanging off it in the corner— but you never thought, in all the time you’ve worked for them, that you’d find yourself on your back in nothing but your bra and panties ( which were both pulled askew to expose your breasts and give him access to your core ) against the mattress, with thick, black straps on your ankles that bind them to a long, silver bar. your legs are spread wide for Toji, he has also fastened similar cuffs to each of your wrists to separate notches on the pole. his fist is wrapped around the center of the metal, gripping it tight. he seems to use it as a lever, pulling your entire body to his.

the tears are far from dried on your cheeks, though the majority of the pain from the initial insertion has dissipated, Toji is none too gentle as he ruts into you. your walls flutter about the girth of his manhood as it stretches you to a capacity you’ve never felt before. he was so big, much too big for him to have been your first, and you felt like he was ripping you apart, especially because he had no regard for how deep he was delving into you— each thrust of his hips sent him hilt-deep into a newly devirginized interior. because of this, your face remained twisted into an expression of discomfort, eyes wide with shock.

Toji chuckles through grit teeth, “What’s with the crocodile tears, slut? Wasn’t expecting I’d pop your cherry? Daddy’s cock too big for that itty, bitty belly of yours?” his dark pair coruscate in the dim lighting as his gaze travels over your stomach, pressing his free palm against the lump just below your navel, the size and shape of his cock. you mewl, head rolling about on the mattress, and your teeth sink into your lower lip; the pressure adds to the sensation of being stuffed full. “Ooh, listen to you whine for me,” he croons with faux sympathy, poking out his lower lip. “I’ll bet you’re used to getting exactly what you want with those puppy dog eyes, aren’t you? But, I gotta tell you, baby girl, daddy’s made more girls cry than just you. You really think those little sniffles are gonna work on me? Make me go easier on you?”

his hips grind into yours as he digs as deep as possible without his thick tip bursting through your belly button ( or, at least, that’s what it feels like ), and you cry out, back arching. your fingernails claw at the restraints, arms tensed unable to do much but sting.

“Ah!” it’s more a bestial growl than a sound of pleasure you’d expect anyone to make, his eyes fiery with even more desire at your wriggling. “See, feel that? How your pussy tremors when she’s gripping my cock? You can glare up at me with those cute, puffy eyes and your makeup streaked down your cheeks, but I can tell by the way that little pussy hugs me that you don’t want it gentle. You don’t want me to be nice. You want to be fucked into submission, and daddy’s more than willing to break that bad fuckin’ habit of talking back to me with my cock.”

it was almost impossible to formulate a coherent sentence, batting tears back, but they fall anyways, squirming as if to escape the cocktail of pleasure and pain, and you turn away from him, angling your countenance towards the wall instead. “W—what— what if I t-told your, ah! Your wife about this—“

the most wicked of grins contorts Toji’s lips, and he reaches through the bar and between your arms to grip your face, turning it back to force you to look up at him. “You think she doesn’t know, girl? I’ve only been planning to breed your little body since you started working for us. I just needed a good excuse to break you in, thanks for that.” he pauses, to groan and close his eyes, pace picking up as his hips begin to buck more erratically. “She thinks you’ll make a better baby factory than she ever could, and she’s more than willing to let me keep you here and fuckin’ ruin you until the only thing you want is for me to swell that little tummy with my bastards—“ even as your whimpering escalated into screams, you can hear him. your eyes close, head wanting to angle away from his grip, his palm makes contact with your cheek in a couple, quick slaps. “You can get used to being my little breed-whore, sweet girl. And don’t you worry, you’re gonna get a nice raise every time I knock you up; as long as you learn that your place is wrapped around daddy’s cock, and that pussy is for him to fill with his loads, you’re gonna be a fine new addition to this family.”

[desideriumwriter]

MORE DITZY READER WITH GEORGE I BEG OF YOU!!! 😫😫😫😫 I feel like she’d be the type to just give him a kiss on the cheek as a way of saying thanks, and George would just stand there stunned as she left. 🤭 - 🪩

i think my new obsession is writing george w/ ditzy!reader, the cutest pair ever <3 ty for the idea!!

wc: 0.7k

Whoever knotted your shoelaces to the metal rod part of the lamp on the wall did a damn good job at it. 

You held the chair that George was standing on steady as possible, your hands wrapped around the wooden back of the chair as George tried to pick out the part of your laces. 

Of course the one time he doesn’t bring his wand with him is when he needs it. You didn’t have yours either, your explanation being you left it hidden under your pillow, George didn’t bother to ask why.

George had already gotten one shoe off, handing it nicely to you despite how annoyed he was at how long it took just to get one untied.

“I can go get my wand if you need me to. I was worried I was going to lose it during dinner, there’s a hole in my pocket.” You explained, George looked down at you to see you sticking a finger through the rip in the fabric of your robes.

“No, no. It’s fine, I almost…damn…almost got this one.” He brushed your words off. 

After a few more moments of George practically picking at the shoelaces with his fingernails, the knot unraveled and he nearly let out a dramatic sigh of relief.

“You think it was nargles again?” George asked, carefully stepping down from the chair, he had one hand holding your shoe and the other reaching out for yours, suggesting for you to get up off the floor.

He wasn’t sure if he believed in Nargles or not. Knowing that most people believed they were either extinct, or had never existed at all. 

But when he was with you, they did exist. So did the butterflies in his stomach when he saw you.

“Most likely. They took my tie last week.” You took his hand so politely, he noticed how soft your hands were compared to his calloused ones. You did a little hop when you got up, it got a smile out of George.

Taking your other shoe from him, you sat down on the chair to slip your shoes on.

“Could you tie the other one for me? It’ll take less time.” You looked up and asked George as you slipped on your second shoe.

“I’ll tie both.” He nodded, already crouching down on one knee. Even though the whole point was tying two shoes at once would be faster, you didn’t protest, only nodding and smiling at his offer.

George’s head of thick, ginger hair was right was the only thing you could focus on as he looked down, tying your shoes with shift hands.

You impulsively stuck out a hand, running your hand through his hair, twirling a thick strand around your finger. George looked up, a bit confused.

“You have very orange hair.” You stated.

“Thank you?” 

“You take very good care of it, it’s very smooth, silky. Not many boys' hair look like yours.” 

“Well, I’m not sure if there’s a large amount of long haired ginger boys in our school.” George chuckled, his focus going back to tying your laces. You let out a hum as you unraveled your hand from his hair and let him finish.

George straightened the bow on each shoe before standing up, lending a hand out to you again even though you could stand up on your own. You took his hand anyways.

“There you go! I could fix that hole in your pocket too.” He suggested and you shook your head.

“It’s fine, I know how to do it myself. I’m quite good at patching up things.” You said proudly, “Thanks for getting my shoes.”

George meant to respond, but before he could you stood up on your toes to connect your lips to his cheek. Giving him a soft yet sweet kiss to his soon to be blushing face.

“You’re so kind, Georgie. I’ll make sure to wear my cork necklace, keeps the Nargles away.” You smiled, turning as you began to skip down the hallway.

George only stood there still in shock caused by the unexpected peck, jaw ajar as he raised his hand to his warm cheek, feeling it as a grin took over his lips.

[thehusbandoden]

Lashing Out -Husband!Bakugo Katsuki x Wife!Reader

A/n: hope this is okay? Don't be afraid to leave feedback <3 Also I didn't know what to do for the title... gosh this sucks T^T

General info: Genre: angst to fluff/angst to comfort \\ wc: 1,270 \\ fem reader \\ posted: 03/19/24

Warnings!: angst, hurt, partner being harsh, partner being insensitive, crying, passive reader, mean Bakugo, and lashing out. I think that's all, pls let me know if I missed any!

You perk up as the front door opens, revealing your toned hubby. You giggle excitedly, your cheeks heating up and butterflies forming in your stomach from the sight of your beloved. It’s been three years since you said, “I do”, and yet you couldn’t help but fall in love all over again when your eyes met his attractive frame and familiar warm eyes.  

Bakugo, however, didn’t seem as excited to see you. He lets out a sigh as you wrap your arms around him, slinging an arm around one of your shoulders half-heartedly before semi-gently pushing you off him as he closed the door.  

You frown but shake it off. He must have had a hard day, right? It would be better to just be supportive and tone the affection down a bit. You follow him like a shadow as he takes his gauntlets off, dropping them to the floor. He strips his mask, neckpiece, and gloves off before slumping onto the couch.  

You gently take his combat boots off, pulling his socks off and grabbing some lotion. He must be exhausted and sore from work, maybe a foot massage would help? You lovingly begin to massage his sore feet, shyly looking up at him every once and a while. He doesn’t respond, keeping his face buried in his pillow.  

You continue to gently massage his feet as he lays on the couch mindlessly. Your fingernail grazes part of his foot, causing him to hiss and yank back, glaring down at you. “What are you doing?” He growls, shooting you a look of anger and... disgust.  

“I-I was massaging your feet baby. You seem to be having a hard time so I-”  

“Quit it. I’m not your baby, quite treating me like one. I don’t need you to coddle me. Go do something useful for once and leave me alone.” He spits, shooting you one last glare before darting off the couch and into your shared bedroom, slamming the door. 

You feel tears sting your eyes, but you shake your head, refusing to let them fall. You gingerly stand up, putting Bakugo’s hero gear away. You pick up the house for a while before sighing. You step up to your bedroom door and gently knock.  

“Ba- Katsuki? Can I come in?” You hear a grunt, not a clear yes or no.  

You step inside quietly, walking up to your husband in bed. He was staring up at the ceiling with a snarl etched on his handsome face. 

“What’s wrong, love? You know you can talk to me, right?” You murmur, placing your hand on his. He yanks his hand from yours, breaking the skin-on-skin contact. Your heart throbs in your chest, but you don’t push. 

“I’m having a hard day. Don’t make it worse for me.” He grumbles, turning away from you.  

“Did you eat?” You sigh, biting your lip in worry.  

Bakugo growls softly as he glares at you. “Quit nagging me and leave me be. Get out of my face, woman.”  

Your heart throbs harder against your chest as you feel tears sting your eyes. You nod quickly, looking at the floor so he doesn’t catch sight of your fragile emotional state.  

“I’m going to go to bed, do you still want me out of here?” You murmur gently. Bakugo groans, glaring harshly at you. 

“Yes! Get out of my hair! How many times do I need to repeat myself to you!?” You stand up as your heart throbs again. You quickly leave the room, causing Bakugo to huff in annoyance.  

Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you check the doors to make sure they’re locked, turn off the lights, and quickly get ready for bed. You brush your teeth and grab an extra blanket. You didn’t have pajamas out here, and you didn’t want to disturb your tired husband, so you just laid in the smaller bed, trying to get comfortable without the familiar heat of your beloved next to you. 

After tossing and turning for quite a while, you give up on sleep. Sighing, you hold yourself as you try to stop the tears. You know he’s just having a hard day, but it doesn’t make the throbbing in your chest lessen. You cradle a pillow close to your chest, hugging it tightly as you desperately try to not let any tears fall. 

His harsh words flash in your mind as you try to drown them out. 

One tear slides down your cheek. 

The way he addressed you as “woman”, as if you weren’t anything but an object. 

A second follows the first, the third swiftly following suit.  

How harsh he was with you. It was like you were a coworker or past classmate, not his wife. Much less the woman he had spent loving, courting, and cherishing since the second year of high school. 

The fourth, fifth, and sixth tear drop down your cheeks, causing the gates to crumble as multitudes of tears slip down your cheek, gathering at your chin before dripping onto your pillow.  

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stay quiet. You fight with yourself for a few moments before coming to a conclusion... what’s the point? He’s upset with you no matter what you do... so why hold it in? Why bottle up your feelings?  

A choked sob slips past your lips, tears quickening at your frustration for allowing yourself to make a sound. A second sob follows the first, and yet a third and fourth join your desperate cry for help.  

You feel yourself falling apart, just above the brink. You rock yourself back and forth, sobbing into your hand. You feel like you’re about to drown... and then it all stops. A warm hand gently touches your shoulder, a soft, familiar voice sounding in your ears.  

”Baby?”

A soft gasp falls from your lips, temporarily being drawn from your sorrow as your eyes meet crimson glory. Bakugo looks down at you in worry, quickly coming closer. He gingerly presses a hand to your upper arm in concern.  

Your tears bubble up as you try to contain your emotions, unable to speak. 

“Y/n baby... I-I don’t know what to say...” he mumbles, his hand finding it’s place on your head.  

“S-Suki...” you blubber out, the tears slipping. Bakugo’s crimson eyes burn with guilt as he wraps his arms around you, gently lifting you into his arms, like he first did as he brought you home from your joyous wedding.  

“Shhh it’s alright.” He murmurs in your ear, bringing you to your shared bedroom, laying you down on your bed. It was larger and much more comfortable. He quickly joins you, wrapping you into his hold and he whispers sweet things into your ear, an arm wrapped around you, a hand on your stomach and the other on your head, slowly petting your hair.  

You sniffle, trying to hold it in as you cling to the man you love more than anything. “Shh let it out baby. Let it all out.” Bakugo murmurs in your ear, pressing a loving kiss to your temple.  

You attempt to hold it in for a few more seconds before finally breaking, sobbing into your husband’s chest as you clench his shirt tightly. He caresses your head and back, kissing your endless tears away as he coos at you.  

“Jerk.” You sob, holding onto him tighter.  

“I know baby, I know. I’m sorry honey.” He mumbles against your skin, holding you a little tighter.  

Bakugo Katsuki was not one to apologize, but he would do anything for his beloved wifey.  

~~~~~

Bakugo's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! <33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[mandarinmoons]

SLUMBER PARTY WITH REID!!

brainiac bsf surprises you when your feeling down with the idea of sleep over. pretty boy has never had a sleep over, but boy does he wanna sleep over with you. he suggests a movie and chinese takeout but you’ve got things to add to that list. you get him to do face masks with you and convince him to let you paint his nails pink and he feigns annoyance but he’s actually just happy to see you in a happy mood. you best bet he will be shy coming into work with those rose colored nails, that he isn’t a fan of, but at least his face is as smooth as a baby’s bum 😭😭

“Spence, hold still or else I’ll get the nail polish on your fingers!”

Spencer sighed as you tightened your grip on his hand and carefully applied the pink paint on his fingernails. He smiled to himself seeing how your tongue poked out of your mouth in concentration, he thought you looked adorable.

This is not how he expected his evening to go. Spencer mentioned how he’s never been to a sleepover before and suggested having one seeing how you’d been a bit down lately. What he thought would be you two cuddling under the sheets, having some take out while watching a movie, turned into something else very fast. The second you heard the word “sleepover” your mind went straight to doing face masks and painting each other’s nails, which you were currently doing. 

“Okay and… done! Don’t touch them for a few minutes to let them dry.”

Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together as he tried to get used to the feeling of the polish on his fingers. It looked nice but the fumes were making him feel a bit dizzy, but he didn’t say a word to you as he saw how happy you seemed for the first time in a while.

This is going to be fun explaining to Morgan

“How does your face feel?”

“It feels a bit… tight,” Spencer’s answer was mumbled as the clay mask he had on made it hard to move his face. You chuckled as you saw him try to move his face in order to gain some sort of feeling back, but the beauty product rendered it useless.

“That means it’s time to take it off. Let me help.”

You took a damp washcloth and gently ran it over Spencer’s face, removing the mask and the impurities it took with it.

Spencer felt as though he could fall asleep right then and there, you ran the cloth over his face so lightly and he felt so well loved and taken care of. He didn’t think humans had the ability to be this tender until he met you.

“All nice and clean,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, feeling the effect the mask left on his skin.

“It feels nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Spencer nodded and you kissed his cheek, your lips barely making contact with his skin. Spencer reached out and pulled you closer to him, your nose squishing against his cheek in the process which caused both of you to laugh.

“I’m really glad we did this.”

“I am too.”

Taking Spencer’s hand into your own, you ran your thumb over his fingers, taking in the hard work you put into them.

“Hmm…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I made a mistake.”

“What do you mean? I think they look nice.”

“No, I mean yeah they look good, but this is so not your color.”

Spencer rolled his eyes as you chuckled and kissed his cheek again.

“It only means I get to paint your nails again.”

“Whatever it takes to make you happy, angel.”

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[nottivagos]

I return! Well, welcome to Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Monday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

an: i was giggling and kicking my feet when i got the picture on the right on my feed a couple weeks back, but here's a cheeky snippet to what jock!carlos au is gonna be like!

You didn’t know how it had gotten like this.

It began with Carlos casually asking if you’d go with him to the campus library because apparently he ‘didn’t know where he was looking’ for a specific book he needed for class.

Definitely not the heavy kisses that followed when he cornered you down a secluded section of the library, pinning you against the wall of the aisle. 

Cheeks burnt as he hungrily groped your breasts, thumbs rubbing your clothed nipples so they were hardened, sensitive peaks. Before you would whine a pathetic whine, he silenced you with another searing kiss, letting the pathetic moans die as his tongue tangled with your own.

Your hands raked through his dark curls, combing the beautiful brown back as you grazed his scalp ever so desperately with your fingernails.

Heavy pants followed as you finally pulled apart for a few short-lived and desperate gasps of air. Dazed, half-lidded eyes looked up at the jock towering over you behind your glasses which were slightly dishevelled and wonky on your nose from the intensity of his kisses which made your lips swollen and raw.

“Carlos,” your breathy voice was merely a whisper in the stillness of the library. “Carlos what are you?—” you trailed off as you felt his hand trail hungrily underneath your skirt, fingers curling ever so slowly into the confines of your panties, before they soon found your weeping cunt.

A large hand pressed on your open mouth, suppressing another moan as he started to pump his calloused fingers in and out of your already slick wetness. Your eyes widened at the intensity as he stretched you out slightly, your fingers coming to hold him slightly tighter as you fought back more wanton moans.

“Shh, nena,” he murmured into your ear, doe brown eyes darkened with lust as his hot breath burnt the shell of your ear. “We wouldn’t want the pretty little nerd to be caught out being a whiny little slut by the librarian, would we?” His voice was dangerous as his thick accent pooled out of his mouth, the richness intoxicating.

A frantic shake of your head followed as your body burnt uncontrollably. Carlos kept his spare hand pressed onto your mouth, your panties became noticeable over the top of the shelf of books covering your thighs as he hitched your skirt slightly upwards. He continued to finger fuck you with no mercy, relentlessly pushing deeper into you whilst you whined hopelessly at the intensity of his thrusts.

“So responsive and tight f’me,” he purred again, fingers curling to that spot that made you see stars. Thighs began to tremble at the unwavering pace of his fingers whilst he finally pushed your panties to the side so he could have better access to your pussy. Tears of pleasure started to well in your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure of Carlos’s fingers pushing you open in public.

The coil of your inevitable waiting release twisted tighter as you fought the urge to cry out in ecstasy as Carlos quickened his already torturous attack on your wetting cunt. The sounds of your slick became more stark as his hand across your mouth pressed harder, forcing you to breathe heavier, uncontrolled and more ragged through your nose, breaths now coming in in harsh huffs.

“You gonna come for me, dirty girl?” he teased darkly, his own breaths a little pant-like and breathy now, “Go on, come for me.”

Tears fell down your cheeks as you came around Carlos’s thick digits still pumping with an unwavering passion as you reached your high. Thighs squeezed together involuntarily, your body shuddering as your knees buckled slightly whilst your walls fluttered uncontrollably against his fingers, coating them with your wetness, soaking the fabrics of your panties as he helped you ride out your high. After a moment, he slowly pulled his fingers out of the confines of your underwear, pressing a sloppy, yet genuinely reassuring kiss to your temple.

“Such a good girl, cariño,” Carlos cooed his praise with a satisfied smile. He brought his coated fingers to his mouth, sucking your essence off of them with ease before sighing with pleasure, a smirk etched onto his face as you panted after he’d taken his hand away from your mouth.  

“Ah, there it is,” he exclaimed snugly, pulling the book he needed off of the shelf. “Thanks for helping me find it,” he added with a smug grin, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, letting it linger for a moment before giving you a little wink and walking away, leaving you alone in a flustered mess.

like jock!carlos? fancy sending me an ask in my inbox so you can be included in my notebook! - notti <3

[moonstruckme]

i’ve been meaning to request this for awhile because i love the idea, what if poly!marauders x animagus!reader and reader’s animal counter part is a raccoon so they call reader bandit as their nickname for the group. and maybe reader naturally has dark circles under their eyes and they prefer to be awake at night? maybe they steal little tokens from their partners like rings and shirts all the time too lol. idk if this interests you but if so i’d love to read it babes! -🌶️

Hi Pepper! This was my first attempt at writing animagus!reader and it felt a bit clumsy but I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting my love <3

poly!marauders x animagus!reader ♡ 742 words

“Where are they?” Sirius asks, stalking into the common room. 

Remus doesn’t look up from his book, not needing to wonder who Sirius is asking about. “They crashed right after class.” He glances out the window. “But it’s almost dark, they should be up soon. Missing something?”

“My rings.” Sirius holds up ten bare fingers. “Took them off to shower after class, and now they’re gone.” 

“Ew,” James says, coming in with two cups of tea. He passes one to Remus, handle first. “It’s like you’re naked.” 

Sirius harrumphs. “You wish, Prongs.” 

“Have you tried checking their stash?” Remus asks, flipping his page. 

Both James and Sirius look at him quizzically. “You know where it is?” 

Remus sighs. His bones creak and pop as he stands. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you.” 

Your boyfriends mostly stay out of their dorm during the day because it’s so quiet and dreary. You’ve got all the curtains drawn shut, not even the tiniest ray of sunlight allowed to permeate your den, and you’ve burrowed underneath the covers of your bed for good measure. Remus leads the boys to the top corner of your bed, pointing to what appears to be a pile of shirts you’ve stowed behind the bedpost. 

James crouches bemusedly, but at Remus’ nod, he pulls the top shirt aside. Sirius sees the glint of metal and drops to his haunches beside James, looking at the treasures you’ve nestled within the pile of shirts. He curses quietly, gathering the rings he’d been wearing that morning along with some he hadn’t seen for months. They clink together in his palm, and not a second later, he and James look up at the sound of rustling sheets. 

Your face emerges from beneath the covers, and Sirius thinks amusedly that it’s almost like you’re peering out from the mouth of a very plush cave. “What’re you doing?” you ask, words slurred together with sleep. Less so when your eyes narrow on the rings in Sirius’ hand. “Those are mine.” 

Sirius can’t help it; he laughs, and you glare at him (you’re really not as intimidating as you’d like to think, even with the darkness that rings your eyes and makes you look like a cartoon villain). “Oh, are they?” he asks you. “I seem to recall purchasing them some time ago.” 

“Since when did you purchase them?” James asks, rising from his crouch to sit next to you on the bed. He pets your hair, and you relax as if you might go back to sleep, though you’re still tracking Sirius’ hand with watchful eyes. “You told me you stole them from your mum.” 

“Well,” Sirius huffs. “Finders keepers.” 

“Exactly,” you say grouchily. “So put them back.” 

“Sorry, Bandit.” Sirius drops a conciliatory kiss on your temple as he slides a few of the rings on and stows the others in his pocket. “I found ‘em this time. Anyway, at least when I steal things, I actually use them. Keeping them stashed under your bed is criminal.” 

You grumble, but you can’t rally much resentment with James’ fingernails scratching at your scalp so pleasantly. 

“I think they do it to feel close to us,” Remus muses, giving you an appraising look. You won’t meet his eyes. “I mean, they’ve got your rings under there, Pads, and one of Prongs’ old necklaces, and some of my sweaters.” James coos as you sink further back into your burrow, and Remus smiles. “Did I get that right, sweetheart?” 

Sirius knows that tone. Remus is laying it on thick and extra sweet, trying to get you to squirm. And it’s working; you won’t look up from where you’re toying with the hem of the sheets, but your face takes on a pinkish hue. You start tearing the edge of your sheet into little strips between your fingers. 

“Oi.” James takes your hand prisoner in his. “Don’t start on that, we’ve already had to replace all the curtains.” 

“Is that true, baby?” Sirius wheedles, giving you his most saccharine smile. “Do you take our things because you love us?” 

You huff, your embarrassment revealed by the way you begin playing with James’ fingers. “Obviously I love you. You know that already. And you have nice things, so think whatever you want.” 

Remus chuckles. “Alright, we will.” 

“I can’t believe it.” Sirius looks down at you, raising an eyebrow when you glare. “Our Bandit’s a thief with a heart of gold.”

[dark-corner-cunning]

Transmutation Warding: Feeding Off The Haters

• Welcome Back, Seekers! Within my local coven, we’ve turned our focus to warding and protection magick as we prepare for the year ahead. I adore transmutation magick for warding! It’s one of my favorite ways to craft shields for myself, my work, my growth, and my success. Instead of constantly bracing for every hex, evil eye, or ill wish, this approach flips the narrative. Transmutation wards work proactively, taking any negativity sent your way and alchemizing it into fuel for your growth and power. Why waste energy defending against haters or uncovering their identities when you can let their spite feed your fire? Let them send their malice—it’ll only make you more powerful.

As always, take what resonates with your spirit and weave it into your own unique magick! My spells and workings are here to spark your creativity and inspire your craft. ✨

--------

Tools & Ingredients:

1 black candle (to absorb negativity)

1 purple candle (for transmutation and spiritual power)

Thread or Cord (any color)

A mirror (to summon your Fetch Spirit or reflect your essence)

1 clear quartz crystal or any charm you’re called to that can be left on your altar or within your space -  As a subtle sentinel of the ward’s power, clear quartz is a cherished ally in magick. Its ability to be easily programmed makes it a perfect vessel for your intention, while its amplifying nature ensures the energy of your working radiates far and wide. To the untrained eye, it appears as nothing more than a beautiful crystal resting upon your altar or within your sacred space—a discreet guardian cloaked in plain sight, silently weaving its protective spell.

Optional: Chalk or something to draw a circle (for creating a sacred boundary to hold the enchantment of your crystal or charm. If chalk is unavailable, let your finger become the wand. You can also use salt or any symbols you would like to use to draw out a circle.

--------

Preparation:

Cleanse your workspace and tools with smoke, salt water, or another method of your choosing.

Candle preparation, take your black candle and anoint it with a neutral oil, something simple like canola oil—or any oil you feel connected to for protection. Once it’s dressed in oil, sprinkle it with herbs known for protection, such as basil, bay, black pepper, cinnamon, or clove—or any protection herbs that resonate with your magick. For the purple candle, I like to use a neutral oil as well, then dress it with herbs that are perfect for transmutation, like lady’s mantle and yucca. Along with those, I often add a pinch of herbs that represent success and abundance—and don’t forget to include a bit of your hair, fingernail clippings, or something from your person to taglock the magick, connecting the work directly to your energy. Then bind the candles together with some thread or cord.

Binding the Candles:

Take the black and purple candles and begin winding the thread around them, chanting this, or create your own:

"I bind these flames, black and purple entwined,

Protection and transmutation, powers combined.

Through thread and flame, my will takes hold,

To guard my essence, fierce and bold."

You don't have to go all out like I did with those massive candles. Honestly, a couple of chime candles will do the trick if you're short on time.

3. Place your mirror above the center of your altar or working space, positioning it to reflect either yourself or the flickering flames of your candles (refer to the caption below the next picture for more context). Let it serve as a portal, amplifying the energy of your work. Arrange your candles in a fire-safe dish at the center—I often favor a trusty aluminum pie pan for this purpose.

4. Hold your crystal or charm in your hands, letting your energy flow into it. Visualize your purpose, your will, and your desire imprinting itself upon the object. Once your intention feels vibrant and alive within the crystal or charm, move it in a clockwise circle around the candles, envisioning it connecting to the fiery energy of your working—like a thread weaving them together.

5. When the circuit feels complete, place the charged crystal or charm before the candles. Now, cast a circle around the entire space, sealing in the energy. You can do this energetically, feeling the boundary forming with your will, or use chalk, salt, or symbols drawn ahead of time to anchor the space. This sacred boundary holds the power of your work, ensuring that your charm becomes fully and beautifully enchanted. And now, it's time to spark the flame on them candles.

I used a selenite tower in this picture as a stand-in to show where your crystal or charm should be placed. This isn’t the actual charm I used, but it gives you an idea of the setup. You’ll also notice my altar mirror hanging just above the space, perfectly positioned for the energy work. If hanging a mirror isn’t an option for you, no worries—simply place one in front of your working area instead. The reflection is what matters most!

--------

Casting The Ward:

Lighting the Candles:

With the bound candles before the mirror. Light them, starting with the black candle, then the purple, and then chant this, or create your own:

"Black flame of shadow, guard and protect,

Purple flame of spirit, energy redirect.

Before this mirror, realms align,

My (Fetch Spirit/Reflection) carries this spell through time."

Incantation of The Ward:

Face the mirror and focus on your reflection, summoning your Fetch Spirit or the reflection of your empowered self. Chant this incantation, or create your own:

"Anyone who cannot honor my essence,

Respect my growth, or stand in my presence,

Be it through disdain, envy, or intent,

Their fate is sealed, their malice spent.

Their energy flows to me, transformed,

Into strength, abundance, success reborn.

As I feed upon their misguided spite,

They are drained by their own blight.

Across all realms, my shield is spun,

Now and forever, this spell is done."

Seal the Energy:

Visualize the mirror reflecting the power of your spell into the cosmos, spreading the ward across all realms. Allow the candles to burn fully if possible, or snuff them out respectfully.

I love this picture! The flames intertwine perfectly, mirroring the energy I was aiming for in this ward of protective transmutation.

--------

Aftercare:

Charging your crystal or charm: Leave your charm on your altar or in your space as a representation of the ward. Each full moon, place it under the moonlight to recharge its energy, visualizing the ward growing stronger with every cycle.

Mirror Care: Cleanse the mirror after the spellwork with smoke or moon water to ensure it remains a neutral tool for future workings.

Final Words:

Maintain your crystal or charm as a talisman of your protective transmutation ward and remember that this ward will work continuously as long as you charge it and feed it with belief and intention.

Stay Wild, Stay Magickal, & Keep Seeking, Seekers!

[hyunsvngs]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 - vampire!changbin x human!reader

wc: 3.2k

cw: vampire!changbin, human!reader, they r in love ur honour, 18+ smut MINORS DNI!!

synopsis: changbin may be a vampire with supernatural strength, but there's nothing he loves more than to let you take control.

a/n: based off of this post and this ask :3 ENJOY.... please heed the smut warnings tho!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: blowjobs, blood kink, petnames, mommy kink, dom!reader, sub!bin, maybe slight strength kink?, MUZZLE KINK!, dirty talk, riding, unprotected sex, creampie

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you can’t believe you’ve got a man this delicious. a man so pliant and malleable too despite his otherworldly, supernatural status. changbin would never use his vampiric strength on you, no - he’d much rather lay down on the bed and let you do what you want to him. 

you’d begged him to turn you when you fell in love. to be able to use your strength on him, you said, trying to convince him. he’d only retorted with a quick “i let you do what you want anyway, sugar?” and well… he wasn’t wrong.

he invited you into his home quicker than any man ever had. he sweetened you up, took you on traditional dates where he turned up at your door with a bouquet of blood red roses, and even sweet talked your mother enough that she approved of him and let you stay at his house. she didn’t know he was over a hundred years old with two pointed teeth, obviously, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

the seo estate is magnificent. the gardens are surrounded by an impenetrable stone wall, looking to be as fresh as the day it was built, and changbin has multiple bedrooms to himself. you’d gotten a bit upset - “binnie, doesn’t it get lonely here?” you said, bottom lip quivering, but he’d only slung one muscled arm around you. “i have you now, gorgeous.”

that was another thing about your man - he’s reassuring, and you always feel safe around him. you know that if you prodded at him a little more and begged him hard enough that he would truly change you and turn you into one of his own, if not purely because he cannot see spending his life with anyone else. 

he lays beneath you now, and you’re lost in your own thought with how much love you can have for someone who would be known as a creature of the night. his tummy quivers with an exhale, and you realise your fingernails have been digging into his pecs through the black silk shirt he’s wearing. he shifts beneath you, slacks tight with his erection, and you grin at his reaction.

“you like the pain, binnie?” you muse, digging your fingernails in just a bit harder. changbin whimpers, eyes fluttering shut, and you see his fangs poke out and dig into his plush doll-like bottom lip. not hard enough to draw blood, no, but just enough to the point you know he’s enjoying it. you grind your hips down and his hands fist in the black sheets on his bed. 

the candlelight flickers around you as you adjust yourself, your nightgown spilling off one shoulder and exposing your shoulder to him. when you grind down again, his eyes flutter open, pupils dilated. “i want you to tell me what you want, changbin.”

his eyes flicker to your shoulder, and you giggle when they slowly crawl up to your neck. changbin hums, fingers twitching as if they want to grab you, but he won’t. he’s a good boy. 

“i want-“ he huffs, one of his shorter, human teeth biting at his lip. “i want you. i want to- i want you to ride me, sugar, and will you let me- will you let me drink from you again? god, your blood is the sweetest thing i’ve ever had.”

“mm, maybe,” you respond, but you know you’ll let him. you just need him to beg a little bit more, sweeten you up a bit. “i’ll ride you, binnie. will you let me have your cock in my mouth first?”

“god, really?” changbin groans, eyes flickering in excitement, and you nod. your hand runs down his tummy, past the shirt and to the zipper of his slacks. it bulges out with how hard he is, and you use your fingernail to push it down, the slow noises of the unzipping filling the room.

you’re sure changbin’s going to scream if you don’t hurry up, so you’re quick to lift your hips up and pull his trousers and boxers down muscled thighs together. his cock is hard, unbearably so, slapping against his stomach and leaking against the fabric of his expensive shirt. the head leaks beneath his foreskin steadily. you want it in your mouth, but you have to make him work for it first - you wrap your hand around the base, lifting his cock off of his tummy, and then you’re stripping his cock at a rapid pace. 

“oh! oh, ah- ah,” he’s wincing, and you know it’s dry, but you can’t help but hurt your boy sometimes. tears bloom in his eyes and you can see that it truly must take his superhuman strength to stop his hips from fucking up into your fist, his hands almost tearing his sheets clean off of the bed. “gorgeous, sugar, your mouth- your mouth, please! please, fuck, i-“

changbin cuts himself off with a sharp keen when you flick your fingernail over his nipple, through his shirt. “what do you call me, binnie?”

he must be stupid with it already because he blinks at you, a tear falling down one soft cheek. he stammers a few noises out, your hand still ravaging his cock, and then it hits him. “mommy! ah, mama, mama! mommy, please, please, give binnie your mouth.”

“there you go, good boy,” you coo, hand moving from his chest to his hair. you pet just above his ear, and he leans into your touch, humming happily. you don’t comment when he turns his mouth to your palm, nipping just slightly with his teeth, but you do reward him with a soft smack to his face. “stay still. no biting, bunny.”

he whimpers when you finally begin your descent down his body. you kiss him through his shirt, and then you finally push the material up to his waist to see him in his entirety. you’ve still got a tight grip on him, and he stands prominent in your fist, his leaky tip just barely peeking out. your tongue darts to dip into his piss slit, and he really does rip the sheets a little this time, along with a strangled noise coming from his lungs.

it’s easy to deepthroat changbin’s cock. his girth is so delicious that it stretches your jaw a little, but you’re able to get his length to your throat with no issues whatsoever. you do so, engulfing his cock into your mouth, and when you start bobbing your head he’s done for. he wails with it, little murmurs of your name falling from his lips, and when you let your eyes flicker up to him he’s really crying.

“mama! oh, oh, my- binnie’s cock feels so good, mama, it’s- hnnng, oh!” he’s babbling as if he can’t believe it, as if you haven’t done this a million times, and you move your hand to his sac. his balls are heavy, full and swollen with his pending release, and you massage them with your thumb until he positively can’t control the bucking of his hips. you let him fuck your throat once, twice, and then you slap his balls hard. “sorry! sorry, mommy, binnie’s sorry.”

you let his cock slide out of your mouth, and it lands with a wet slap against the thatch of curly, pitch black hair at his base. “i said to stay still, bunny,” and your voice is hoarse, but he nods, chin quivering.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbles, and you can see how his cock jumps with his nervousness. “will you- will you still let binnie drink? and ride me, and-?”

“and what, baby? cum inside me?” you tilt your head to the side in question, and you swear you see changbin blush. he nods, bottom lip jutting out, and you can’t help your laugh. “we’ll see. be a good boy for me, okay?”

he wasn’t expecting you to move up his body again, but he’s pleasantly surprised when you pull your nightgown up. the white satin remains on your body, just barely held up by the curve of your hips, and you hold his cock upright. you’re soaking wet between your legs, and changbin moans out when you run his length through the folds of your pussy, just barely catching on the swollen bud of your clit.

“binnie,” you say, breathless. “binnie, tell me how much you want it.”

he’s instant with his response. “so bad! so bad, sugar, feel how hard i am? binnie’s that hard just for you, will you let me have it?”

“just for me, mm?” you ask, and he nods. you lift up just a tad, holding the hem of your nightgown up, and then you’re sinking down onto his cock in one go. his girth stretches your hole beyond belief, even with the added thickness. when he bottoms out, your toes curl, his cockhead resting in that one gummy place inside you that he’s taught you to love. “ah, there we go. that’s good, yeah?”

“s-so good, mama,” his voice is choked, and he lets his eyes flutter shut again. “so good. tight pussy, ‘s so good.”

“it’s all yours, baby,” you moan, and he nods frantically. you’re quick to start moving your hips, too horny to keep the facade going, and changbin’s hands move to grab the pillow either side of his head. your ass slaps against the tops of his thighs, wet noises ringing throughout the entirety of the stone-built room - and probably further out in the estate, but you can’t fathom the concept of changbin’s groundskeepers hearing anything. at a particularly well-angled bounce of your hips, his cockhead rams deliciously into your g-spot, and you know you’ve cracked it, continuing your grinds in that exact position. 

“is it good?” changbin asks, breathless, and he finally opens his eyes. his eyes land on your tits, bouncing in your nightgown, and he shuts them again as if he’s been branded with a silver cross. “sugar. i can’t even look at you, i’ll bust.”

you giggle, leaning forward to grip onto him for purchase. your hands land on his pecs again and you whine when your clit grinds against his pubic bone, fast and feverish, and you don’t reprimand him when his hands finally move down to your ass. he’s held back for so long, and you both know that it’s only so long that he can take not being able to touch you.

“ah, that’s so- fuck, binnie,” you moan, teeth digging into your bottom lip. you’re reminded of your previous plans when his fingernails scratch at your ass, his back arched like a cat. “mm, binnie? y’wanna taste mommy?”

in any other situation with any other man that would have completely different connotations, but changbin knows what it means. he shoots up into a seated position, eyes half lidded, and his head darts to the juncture between your neck and your shoulder.

“c-can i, mommy?” he questions, moaning when your hips grind down on him harder. “can i, please?”

“more, binnie,” you respond, and he knows what you mean. his tongue laves over your neck, and then he places a wet, open-mouthed kiss over the column of your throat. that’s where he’s going to bite you, and he’s tenderizing you like something he’s going to eat. you suppose you are.

“mama,” he whines, long and drawn out. “let me taste you. please, god, i’m thirsty, mama. let me, please?”

you sigh with your pleasure, and you finally halt your hips, stopping the boy underneath you from being jostled too much. his hands knead at your asscheeks while you pretend to deliberate.

“alright, honey,” you coo, voice soft. “you can bite.”

changbin’s fangs protrude from his mouth, and then he’s biting you. it’s slow, the way his teeth begin to bury themselves into your skin, and the moan he lets out is high pitched. changbin’s always messy when you let him do this, and despite the fact he starts to drink your blood instantly upon it hitting his tastebuds, it’s already started to drip down your shoulder. 

you pick the right time to start moving your hips again. he’s sighing and moaning as he drinks, and you begin a slow grind on top of him. changbin’s cock positively throbs inside of you, and you clench down approvingly, making him grip you just a bit tighter. 

he drinks and drinks until you’re lightheaded with it. when he pulls away, you’re a little dizzy, but not enough so that you can’t take in the sight of him. his chin and lips are covered in bright red blood, and it’s dripped down to your white nightgown and stained the fabric a dangerous colour. changbin moans in approval when he sees it, and his mouth goes to your nightgown to try and lick the excess up messily. fortunately for you, he licks over the pebbled peak of your nipple, and he’s fixated on it as soon as he catches it. 

the nightgown becomes drenched with not only your blood, but his spit too. he doesn’t let up, swirling his tongue around your nipple through the fabric, and you’re left to run your fingernails through his hair teasingly. he whines against you when you pull his hair back to your neck, before he’s quiet, lapping at the two pin prick holes in your skin soothingly. something about his venom over the wounds feels euphoric, and you can’t help yourself when you push him back down onto his back to ride him hard.

he looks debauched. his eyes blaze a crimson shade with his feed, and your blood is smeared all over the bottom of his face - streaks adorn his sharp chin and his fangs look like they’ve been dipped in it. he licks over his upper lip with a grin, and you can’t help but to smile back before you’re bouncing.

“fuck yeah! yeah, mama, yeah, ride me,” he murmurs, eyes flickering over your body like he can’t believe you exist. you can’t believe he exists, but you know you must look the picture of his wet dreams in your nightgown. the fabric over your breast is so drenched it’s see through, and your blood still drips a little bit from your neck. in the middle of grinding on his chubby cock, you let your thumb collect some of the red liquid on your thumb, and you press it into his mouth.

changbin whines. his hands move to your waist and he sucks your thumb like he would your strap, moaning around it like it’s the best thing he’s ever had past his plushy lips. you fuck the digit in and out in rhythm with your pace on top of him, and his cock leaks inside you so warm you feel it, flooding your gummy walls and leaving you breathless. 

with a strong grind on his cock, changbin’s fangs nip at your thumb, and you have to pull your thumb away for another little love tap on his cheek. his eyes roll back into his head, and you giggle. an idea hits you, and you know you just have to do it.

your hips halt, and you grab changbin’s curls tight, pulling his head back. “i think we better get your muzzle, bunny.”

“no! no, you let me drink, what- why?! why, why?” he wails, but you know he enjoys it. he just likes kicking up a little fuss when you get mean like this, and you ignore him to reach into the bedside table to grab the offending item. it’s only small, covering the bottom half of his face with black leather and miniature metal bars over his mouth, but changbin cums his fucking brains out every time you equip it over his gorgeous face. he’s still babbling when you loop it over his curls, pulling the strap tight and letting your pussy clench down at the sight of him so submissive, so pliant. 

“mm, that’s it. stay there like that, that’s it,” and you lean back, hands gripping his thighs. you’re feeling a little lenient, so you let changbin push your nightgown up with calloused palms and watch the space where his cock enters you over and over. he’s going to cum soon, you realise, and you’re going to have to make the most of the time you have right now. changbin snaps his fangs at you as if he’s a puppy about to bite, and you clench down on him with a sharp keen, pussy gushing down to his pubic hair. 

you reach around yourself with one hand, fingers rubbing messily over your clit, and it makes your pussy tingle deliciously. changbin’s still making strangled noises, legs thrashing behind you, and you can hear him mumbling quietly.

“please, please… let me drink again, sugar? mommy. mama, please, please-”

his hips cant upwards and you jolt. your pin prick wounds on your neck are healed from the after effects of changbin’s vampire venom, but you flick your fingernail over it, causing the wound to start oozing crimson essence again. changbin’s nose scrunches up beneath the muzzle as he inhales, and you wipe your hand over your bloody skin before you’re just barely letting your fingertips slide through the metal bars on his restraints.

“s-smell it, changbinnie,” you coo, chest heaving with a flush as you get closer to your orgasm. your hand speeds up on your clit when he nips softly at your fingers, and when he cants his hips up again he’s flooding you with hot cum. his own chest heaves as he cums, cock throbbing inside of you, and you whine. 

“fuck. fuck, sorry-”

“stay fucking still, bunny,” you groan. “you better not go soft on me. make mama cum, c’mon.”

and he does. he wraps his muscled arms around you, the material of his shirt scratching against your nightgown, and then he’s thrusting into you. it’s awkward, and he’s only half hard, but the show of strength is the only thing you need to push you over the edge. you shake and gush through your orgasm, arms moving to wrap around changbin’s neck, and you feel his chest rumble with a groan as he feels you throb around him. 

when you flop off of him, pussy messy and swollen with your sex, he stretches with a loud groan. you huff in response, and he sniffs. the unspoken communication makes him let out that loud, affectionate laugh that you love.

changbin’s out of breath next to you, limbs akimbo, and you giggle at his soft cock resting against his pubic bone. you pull the straps of his muzzle loose and let it drop onto the pillow, and changbin grins at you.

“the muzzle was such a good idea,” he says, elated, and you let him push himself into your space and lay his head on your chest. your nightgown is still covered in blood and his spit, but he doesn’t care, making little happy noises against you. “i love you, yeobo.”

you can’t help but smile, sated. “i love you too, changbinnie.”

[0o-junebug-o0]

Hii can we please get an Emily Prentiss with a fem reader with something to do with strip poker? :)

Love your fics sm!!

Strip Poker

Here you go, my love! And thank you! Also, I learned how to play texas hold 'em from a hermitcraft video haha

genre: fluff

cw: suggestive 16+! kinda fem! kinda gn!reader (reader's gender is not specified but is described as having breasts and wearing a bra), strip poker, getting together, kinda fade to black smut

wordcount: 1.9k

“Wanna play poker?”

You turn to look at Emily. She’s lounging against the arm of her couch and watching you with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smile.

“You better not be like Reid,” you warn.

She laughs. “No, no. Don’t worry. I’m good, but I can’t count cards.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you trying to trick me out of? I don’t have any cash.”

“So does that mean you want to play?”

You shrug. “Sure. I don’t know what we would bet though.”

“We could play strip poker,” she says simply, like it’s no big deal at all.

Your eyes widen and you can feel your face warm. “Seriously?”

Emily shrugs. “We don’t have to, of course,” she says nonchalantly. “But, yeah, seriously.”

You swallow hard as you try to wrap your head around Emily’s proposal. Strip poker. With Emily. With the woman you’ve had a crush on for over a year. The thought seems almost too good to be true. You find yourself nodding and Emily’s eyes light up.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty as she pushes herself off the couch and leaves to grab a deck of cards. But she suggested it. It was her idea. It’s not like this was an elaborate plan on your behalf to see her naked.

Figuring it would be easier to play on a flat surface, you slip off the couch and onto the floor, crossing your legs beneath you and leaning back against the base of the couch. You pick at your fingernails nervously as Emily returns waving a deck of cards triumphantly.

She sits on the floor in front of you, leaving about a foot of space, and slips the cards from the pack. “What kind of poker do you want to play?” she asks, shuffling the cards with an ease you find insanely attractive.

“I only know Texas Hold ‘Em,” you admit nervously.

Emily nods and shuffles the cards again. “We’ll play that then. I’ll teach you another variant some other time.”

You haven’t even started to play, but your cheeks warm at the thought of doing this again. 

“No blinds, obviously,” Emily says.

You nod in agreement.

“We’ll bet an item of clothing and the other person can call to match the amount or raise by adding another item.” she continues. “You lose a hand, you lose the clothes you bet. And that includes folding unless it’s right off the bat.”

You nod again, too flustered to come up with any words.

“Alright,” Emily says, dragging out the word as she deals two cards facedown to herself and you.

You pick up your cards. Queen of spades and two of clubs. Not a great hand, but a queen high isn’t horrible.  “I-I’ll bet my shirt,” you mutter.

Emily nods. “I will as well,” she responds, taking three cards off the top of the deck and laying them out between you. Eight of hearts, eight of clubs, and 3 of spades. 

You glance up to see Emily watching you with an indecipherable expression. You can feel your heart rate pick up and you fight the urge to lower your gaze, staring right into her eyes instead. She smiles. “Do you want to raise?” she asks.

“No, I’m good.”

“You ready for the next card?”

You hum in affirmation and she takes the top card from the deck and sets it next to the others. Two of diamonds. You feel a bit of relief at the thought that you might not be the first to begin undressing.

Emily pauses for a moment to give you a chance to raise, and when you don’t she takes the next card from the deck and sets it down to reveal the six of diamonds. “Ace high,” she says, lowering her hand for you to see.

You smirk at her and flip your cards. “Two pair.”

Emily laughs and tilts her head in acknowledgment. She sets her cards down and curls her fingers under the hem of her shirt. Your breath hitches as she slowly starts to lift her shirt, revealing first her toned stomach and then the black bra that perfectly supports her breasts. Her eyes stay locked on yours the entire time. She finally pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it aside and you have to fight the urge to stare. She’s absolutely gorgeous and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Emily reaches out and rests her hand on your knee, making you jump slightly. “You alright?” she asks sweetly.

You find yourself nodding before you can even properly process her question. She smiles at you and your stomach feels like it does a backflip.

“Ready for the next hand?” she asks, picking up all the cards and shuffling them.

You nod again. It’s like her beauty has rendered you incapable of coherent thought, much less speech. Emily deals the cards and you look to see that you have a six of hearts and a seven of clubs. With some luck, you might end up with a straight and get to see Emily take off another piece of clothing. You blink hard to drag yourself back to reality as Emily says, “I bet my socks.”

You look down at your hand again. “I’ll bet my shirt.”

Emily raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back. Your nerves are quickly starting to shift into excitement. She sets the next three cards down. Ace of hearts, 10 of spades, and jack of clubs.

“I’ll raise my belt,” Emily says. You look up at her to see a cocky expression on her face. The flop gives the chance for a straight, though you doubt she has both a queen and a king, if she already had a straight she’d be raising way more than just her belt. She might have one of them. Or maybe she’s bluffing.

“I’ll match with my belt.”

Emily deals out the turn. A five of diamonds. 

“I raise my pants.”

Your head shoots up and you stare at Emily with wide eyes. Maybe she does have a king and queen. You try to read her, but her expression is the same slight cockiness and self-satisfaction it’s been the whole game. You look back and forth between your hand and the community cards. 

“I fold.”

Emily smiles wide and you hand her your cards face down for her to shuffle back into the deck with the others. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before beginning to unbuckle your belt. Emily’s eyes seem practically glued to your hands as she shuffles the cards. The metal of the buckle clinks as you pull your belt through the loops of your pants and set it off to the side. You lock eyes with Emily as you hook your fingers under your shirt and her hands go still. 

You smirk, pleased to see that you seem to have the same effect on her that she has on you. Taking a leaf from her book, you maintain eye contact as you slowly remove your shirt, and by the time it’s gone and you’re just in your bra, you can see the blush on her cheeks. The realization that she’s enjoying this just as much as you starts a fire burning in your gut and you start to think that maybe Emily wants you too.

She opens and closes her mouth for a moment, before lowering her gaze back to the cards and shuffling them again. “You’re beautiful,” she says softly.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Th-thank you,” you stutter, taken aback. “You are too.”

She lifts her head slightly and smiles at you softly before handing out the cards. Seven of hearts and king of spades. Emily hums as she looks at her cards. 

“I’ll, um, I’ll bet my socks,” you say. Now that you’re both shirtless, you can feel the excitement curling in your chest. You want to see more of her. 

Emily nods. “I’ll bet my belt.”

She lays down a four of clubs, nine of spades, and a king of clubs. You smile confidently. The flop doesn’t lend itself to anything good so you feel you have a good chance with a pair of kings. Even if Emily has a four, as long as another one isn’t played in the turn or river, you’ll win.

“You gonna raise?”

You think for a moment before shrugging. You might as well. “I’ll raise my pants.”

Emily’s face flushes. “I’ll match with my own.”

Neither of you raises the bet as an ace of hearts and eight of clubs are played. When the hand is over, you smirk at her, feeling confident in your victory. You set your cards face up on the floor. Emily laughs and does the same. Your jaw drops. She has a four of spades and a four of hearts.

“You forgot about three of a kind, didn’t you?”

You stare at her in shock. “I—yeah,” you admit. “I thought for sure I had you.”

“That’s what you get for being cocky,” Emily teases with a laugh.

You scowl playfully and stick out your tongue. You quickly tug off your socks and toss them to the side before climbing to your feet. Emily’s gaze follows you as you stand, watching the movement of your fingers as you undo your pants. You can see the way her chest heaves with each breath as she watches you slowly push your jeans off your hips.

You bend over seductively, giving her a good view up your bra as you slide your pants down your legs. You swear you can hear her breath hitch. Once free of your jeans you toss them off to the side and sit back down with your legs crossed in a way that leaves your underwear exposed. 

Emily lowers her gaze and quickly reshuffles and deals the cards. The round passes quickly and you can tell she’s distracted. She jumps straight to betting her pants and you match with your bra, then she loses with a jack high to your pair of threes. She practically jumps to her feet and without removing her belt, pushes her pants down.

The sight of her underwear makes your face burn. They’re a pair of small black boyshorts that hug her ass perfectly as she bends over, forcing you to struggle between choosing to look there or at her breasts. Either way, she’s gorgeous. 

She tosses her pants to the side and, instead of sitting back down where she was, she closes the gap between you and lowers herself to sit on your lap. Your arms shoot up in surprise, your hands hovering over her skin, unsure if you’re allowed to touch. You can hear your pulse rushing in your ears.

Emily drapes her arms around the back of your neck and stares at you for a moment. You stare back with wide eyes and your mouth parted slightly in shock. She brushes her hand over your cheek and you swear your heart skips a beat. 

“You can touch me, sweetheart,” she whispers.

You nod desperately and immediately your hands find her hips. “I-is this really happening?” you breathe, unable to wrap your head around it.

“If you want it to.”

You nod again, just as desperately. “Yes, God, yes. I’ve wanted you for so long,” you gasp weakly.

Emily smiles softly at you. “I have as well.” Her gaze drops from your eyes to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You think the way your hand immediately slides into her hair and presses her lips against yours is answer enough.

_____

REQUESTS ARE (temporarily) CLOSED!

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

@ashluvscaterina @angeliccss @novaanna @moonysreid @eliscannotdance @ilyremuslupin @greyslover3004 @written-in-the-stars @jayden-prentiss @idkwhatever580

[hexedwritings]

hiii!! i saw u wanted requests so here it goes. idk what ur rules are for writing but i was wondering if u could maybe write a jinx x fem reader oneshot where they have sex while high!! maybe they even shotgun the smoke too cus thats so hot 👀👀 anyway please and thank u 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Jinx x reader

- I didn't really include a sex in this but there are suggestive stuff.

- Set after events of act 3 season 1. But before the season 2 if yk what I mean.

- ⚠️ : mention of drugs, cuss words (?), suggestive stuff.

Jinx loved taking risks. This was one of the reasons you fell in love with her. This was one of the reasons she was known.

It's not that she never had thought of the outcomes. She always knew she's way too smart for bad outcomes to happen.

After death of Silco, she fell into some bad habits. Unhealthy coping mechanisms and you definitely tried to be for her and to help her.

Sometimes you would just give in and smoke a blunt with her. This was one of those times. So yeah, you were currently on her bed or maybe you were levitating in the air, you weren't really sure.

"Hey toots are you even listening?" Her even raspier voice from smoking brings you back a little to your senses. The truth is you weren't listening. You were watching. You were watching how she would move her fingernails against your right forearm up and down while rambling about random stuff. They didn't even make sense. You were watching how her chest would slightly move everytime she moved too fast on the bed.

"Oh — sorry I wasn't listening." You said slightly flustrated. She squinted her eyes slightly before moving her body on top of your body. Her hips resting on your hip bones. You subconsciously held her hips.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked as she slouched, brought her body closer to your body, Chest to chest, head near your neck and Her tired bloodshot eyes staring your tired bloodshot eyes. "What- no nothing is wrong why are you asking?"

"You look a little red." You don't know how she can focus on the fact that you're a little red when she is this high. Well, you did focus on her body while she was talking so maybe that's possible.

"I don't."

"You do."

"What's the point of this?" You asked in a silent voice. She brought her lips close to yours and it didn't take one second for her to close the gap. You gasped. Not expecting a kiss happen. But you immediately kissed back.

She moved her mouth aggressively against yours. It made you confuse a little but you gave in of course. She entered her tounge into your mouth and tasted every bit of your mouth. It made you whimper a little. She was so aggressive that you felt like you were going to get a nose bleed.

"Wha- jinx what's up?" You asked as you moved her head a little away from yours.

"Am I not allowed to kiss my girlfriend?"

"That was not my question!"

"Why? do you have a problem with it?" You definitely did not. You wanted to continue. You wanted every inch of her.

"Uh no I don-"

"Then shut up and take it."

Not waiting for another moment she kissed you again. You also moved your lips against hers aggressively, basically fighting for dominance.

She stopped kissing you and moved to your neck. Sucking gently on the skin and then getting harsh. Teeth nibbing at it and making you bleed.

You didn't care. You did a few seconds before on why she was being so aggressive but the Lord only knows how much turned on you are right now. So you let it all happen.

She took your shirt off and moved to suck your nipples. Biting the flesh and making you whimper in pain. sucking your left breast while playing with the right one.

A few moments ago you would zone out and get lost in your mind but that moment, your five senses were exteremely enhanced. You didn't know why. It's like everytime jinx moved on your body and did something, you would feel it 10 times more.

But then she did something. Something she had never done before. She brought the blunt to her mouth. Smoked and got even more high, but the thing is.. she didn't release the smoke from her mouth until she kissed you. Yep. She released the smoke into your mouth.

You were dumbfounded. This was probably the most turning on action someone would ever do.

She was staring into yours eyes. The gap between your head and hers was probably not more than two centimeteres. You released the smoke back and it hit her face. You were starting to become dizzy. Dizzy from the blunt. Dizzy from your love for jinx. Dizzy from her literally doing that. Dizzy from everything.

You kissed her and she kissed back. That was a long night of making out and becoming high from each other.

[daddyhausen]

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 YOU WILL BE MINE 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

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「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 MUSICIAN/BAND MASTERLIST 」 | 「 IV MASTERLIST 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — it was supposed to be a simple convenience store run, once iv caught a glimpse of the pretty clerk behind the desk , he was infatuated

「 WARNINGS 」 — smut, 18 +, [ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ], stalking obsession, male masturbation, cumshots, sexual fantasies

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 3.8k

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x iv

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @janetreader @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @selena-tyler-564 @alyyaanna @nightmare-freakin-viper @nev-danielgarciawife @teenagedramaqueenlisa @them4lice

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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「 3:30 AM 」

iv’s eyelids grow heavy as the hours ticked by, his sleep stifled in feeble attempts just to try and stay awake. the simple convenience store he stands before seems so barren in comparison to earlier when he passed it by, no bustling customers, mother’s with groceries, small children clinging to their arms with their own piles of sweets and assorted junk foods, not even the old man down the road, whom he saw quickly dart in for a pack of smokes and a few lottery tickets.

it is too quiet, even for his liking. at this hour, normally he’d see a few drunks spread out here and there buying a quick snack to help them sober up before stumbling back out the door with very minimal interaction on both recipient and server. the layover between shows was only a week, and even in the few hours he’s been here he’s already noticed these things. the emptiness feels sinister almost, like an ever looming hand hovering just above his shoulder, not touching, just out of reach.

the soft chime of the bell brings iv out of his thoughts momentarily, the door opens, the bell falling back into place with a gentle ring. he steps inside, the cool august air fading, his bones instantly warmed from the heater inside. a hoodie covering his features, practically engulfing him in the oversized material. his face obscured by a mask, as always. a simple black balaclava with some the bands sigel etched on the front. he finds the idea of wearing the mask in public a bit redundant since the mask itself was more identifiable than his bare face, however, vessel, ever the worrier, insists on it. he gives a soft glance in the direction of the registers, eyeing a pretty little thing behind the counter, before making his way to the drink fridges.

he notices how your eyes widen subtly, trying not to draw attention to yourself. he sees how your hand rests beneath the counter, such dainty little fingers tapping at the steel of the countertop, an irritating clanking of fingernails against the metal. poor nervous thing. how cute.

“sir?” you speak up, your voice barely above a squeak. “you need to take off your mask”.

he simply opens the drink fridge, grabbing a slab of water bottles, turning to face you.

“is that a requirement here?”

he didn’t even notice the sign above the door that clearly states to remove all head coverings.

“i mean you just can’t walked into a convenience store wearing a mask, i might think you’re gonna rob the place”

“fine” he softly mutters, pulling up the balaclava just past his mouth, the fabric resting on the bridge of his nose. revealing a sharp jawline and soft pouty lips shaped into a scowl.

“happy?”

his remark is spiteful and sarcastic as he places the slab of water bottles on the counter.

“i suppose you’re gonna charge me a convenience fee for the mask?” his words are still monotone. a joke.

“be thankful that i didn’t call the cops on you”

a small scoff left his lips at the mention of the faux threat, thick fingers appearing from beneath the worn leather of a black glove, resting on his chin, softly scratching the brunette stubble of his beard. his tongue subtly parting his lips, your eyes falling to stare almost instinctively down at the appendage as it swipes across his bottom lip, wetting it slightly.

“lucky me, i guess”

his words rumble low in his chest, a deep hum that murmurs low as they leave his lips. he stares for a moment, as if he were studying your appearance. from the way your eyes flutter softly with small blinks, the way your eyelashes batt against the apples of your cheeks, to the way your nose scrunches from the chill of the spring air each time the door to your store opens. your lips and the way they puff and pout subconsciously or the way they part slightly each time he’d talk, as if you are about to swallow his words no matter how brief his sentences are. oh god, he wishes those lips could part around other things. his eyes follow the length of your arm, from your dainty, dandelion-painted fingernails, to smooth silky hands, one’s that wrap tightly, almost anxiously around the scanner as you scan the slabs of water. to your shoulders, he could just invision the bite marks he’d leave, etched into pristine skin, these thoughts continue the further his eyes travel, to your clavicle and finally, your breasts, hidden beneath a neat blouse, his eyes only linger for a moment not to rouse suspicion, although he could not help but let his mind wander, envisioning just how gorgeous those perky, supple breasts would look free from the restraists of the fabric, nipples pebbled over with arousal, boucing as he slams his girthy cock into you. he draws his eyes away after a minute or so.

“so if you’re not here to rob me, what are you doing in town, i havent seen you around before, you new here?”

your questions are probing, invasive to iv’s ears. good. you did not mention his obvious staring, either you knew and didnt mention it out of embarrassment or that pretty little head of yours was filled with nothing but air. in a way he liked the latter, easier to toy with, easier to corrupt and full with nothing but thoughts of his cock, how perfect.

“do you expect every person who comes here is gonna rob you?”

iv cocks an eyebrow inqusitively at your questioning, eyelids slowly blinking as he gazed upon your throat, how it constricts with a small, anxious gulp, he can envision his hand wrapping around it, constricting your airway until you succumb to pleasure.

“you can’t expect nothing more in a town like this”

iv gives a soft nod, pursing his lips with a small hum in response, he hadn’t taken notice of it before but the store itself is kept moderately well, aside from a few straps of duct tape keeping the cracks in the windows sealed, and the lightbulb above the counter that flickers on and off every so often, the colour a muddy yellow, subdueing you beauty each time it would darken. in comparison to the shithole of a town outside, it is paradise, simply because of you.

“i’m in a band” he finally admits

the answer is short, closed off. your eyes widen in excitement, he’s mentally preparing himself for another round of questioning.

“ooh, go on tell, what band?”

he finds your reaction endearing, despite his own reservations he remains hesitant to say anything further.

“you wouldn’t know…” his response is standoffish, you take the hint and back off questioning him for now.

you round up his change silently, the price appearing on the small screen of the register. albeit he does feel bad about the way he responded, in the back of his head he knows he can’t get too close to you. despite every nerve in his body yearning to fuck you senseless over the counter top. his cock throbbing behind the confines of his jeans.

“sorry…” he mutters, noticing the subtle sombre expression across those perfect, pouty lips. he pulls out his card to pay, gathering the slabs of water in his arms.

“it’s alright, not that it matters, i never got time to go to shows anyway”

iv’s lips pout against the fabric of his mask, poor pretty thing. you’re working yourself to the bone it seems. he observes, even under the piss coloured lighting, beneath the most stunning set of eyes lays dark circles, your posture not as perfect as it should be, your shoulders slump forward, almost nodding off where you stand. iv couldn’t help but think that you are in need of a rest, and who a better man than himself to give you a nice rough fucking until you fall asleep on his chest, his cock stufffed deep in your cunt, half-hard as you clench around him.

iv shakes the thoughts from his head momentarily. it is something he’s gonna have to deal with back at the hotel.

“how long you in town for?” you ask. diverging the conversation, breaking the awkward silence that built between you two.

“about a week”

you respond with a simple nod, lips curling into a small subtle smile.

“see you around then”

“yeah.”

iv watched on as you disappear into the back room, his eyes dancing over your frame, adoring the sway of your hips, the round of your ass as she escapes from his vision, his cock hardens, throbbing with insatiable desire. god, if he stares any longer he is sure to ruin his boxers. he peers up to the security feed, the small tv mounted upon the wall, spit into four different screens, once of each corner of the convenience store, and the bottom left, one of the back room, which he assumes is the storage facility. he can see you, he stares, watching you dart back and forth, a lot of monotonous work still needing to be done. he can’t help himself, he grabs his phone from his front pocket, quickly snapping a pic of you in the security feed.

it was not much, the picture is grainy and blurry. he can just make out your figure, but it is enough. it has to be. then again, any semblance of you would help. his balls feel heavy down-weighed with litres of cum he needed to spill. he grabs the water, quickly darting out of the convenience store before he would start to rub one out where he stood.

the walk back to the hotel was suppose to be quick, only five minutes or so away, yet, with the throb of his cock, each step felt like half, his body feels heavy, an eternity scaped out over the course of a few minutes. all he could think about was you, the pretty little slut behind the counter, spending your days all by your lonesome in the store. he wonders how many times you’ve gotten so needy that you just would rub one out whenever there were no customers, slender fingers tracing around that aching, swollen clit, pumping deep into that meaty pussy of yours. God, it was driving him insane. his cock aches, only wishing to be buried deep in any hole you’d allow him into.

even more so as he fumbles with the key card, the damn thing slipping through his fingers and back into his pockets more than once.

“fuckin’ hell…” he curses under his breath, his breathing itself becoming laboured, warm against the fabric of his mask. arousal swelling in his pants, cock throbbing with thick pulses. by the gods he is desprate. every time he blinks, a vision of you behind his eyelids, each one in a different, more exposed state of undress until you were bare before him. the key card clicks, a chime ringing through the hallway as the door opens. iv practically stumbles inside, an awaiting iii lounging idly on the bed furthest from the door. his head lazily peering up to meet iv’s frazzled state.

iii put his phone down beside him on the bed, poorly dried hair still dripping wet from the shower, leaving inky black splotches on the pillow case.

“since when does it take an hour just to get water?-”

iii’s words fell deaf on iv’s ears, placing the two slabs down onto the counter, completely bypassing iii in the process heading straight for the bathroom.

the bathroom is quiet, only the soft echoes of iv’s breath present, all shaky and laboured. the room is still warm, steam billowing off the tiles from when iii occupied it. iv rips off his mask, small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead, dark strands sticking his skin as he eyes himself in the mirror. he is a wreck. he is not sure if it was the arousal talking or the lack of sleep but he knows he needed to do something about it and quick. his cock strains against his jeans, images of you, still present in his mind. all naked, spread out for him, greedy cunt taking every inch of his fat cock.

“shit..” he mutters through a shaky breath, peering down just to see how evident his arousal had become. the zipper practially about to bust with the sheer girth of it. iv is quick to rid himself of the fabric, his cock springing from his boxers, heavy and swollen, tip leaking with precum as evident by the generous wet patch in his boxers. he is amost afraid to touch it, fearing that he might bust with the slightest contact. he simply watches it throb and pulse against his stomach.

a knock at the bathroom door distracts him momentarily. iii’s voice ringing through his ears.

“you good in there, mate?”

iii’s voice is hesitant, almost concern laced in his words.

“yeah…gonna shower…”

iv’s words falter slightly, trying to hold back a moan.

“right…dont be too long yeah?”

“yeah…right…”

iv waits for a moment, hearing the dull thuds of iii’s footsteps inch away from the bathroom door. he lets out a shaky, relieved breath, dismissing his predicament for a second to get the water ready. steam flutters and curls in the air, instantly fogging the glass f the shower door as he waits for the temperature to correct itself, yet in the back of his mind, like some omnipresent figure, you lurk. beckoning him with a curled, tempting finger to sink deeper into whatever unhinged fantasies he has tucked away. by the gods he wants to do that so…just to get a taste, a feel, a smell even. You’d taste sweet, he knows that. pretty pussy leaky and wet just for him as he laps up your juices like a man starved, planting deep hungry kissed to your clit, sucking greedily at the sensitive bulb.

he looks back to the counter top, his phone laying idly beside the sink. he remembers the picture he snapped of you on the security feed. as perverse as the act was, he could not help himself. he could just delete the picture and be done with it, with you, he is only here for a week after all nothing would come through over one simple interaction.

but it would be such a waste…he kept his balls full for a reason, resisting the urge to stroke himself for weeks now until he found the right subject to satiate his needs. if he were to waste his cum on anything…on anyone…it would be a cute little bunny such as yourself.

iv reaches for his phone, his hand shaky, not necessarily in hesitation but arousal…need. he opens it, scrolling through his photo album, amongst the various photographs stored, from tour photos, selfies, pictures of his own cock, laid you, the one he’s been searching for. he zooms in on it, the angle of the camera giving a much better view of your cleavage, the supple, round mounds swelling around the fabric of your blouse, iv’s dick twitches at the sight. he props the phone down ontop of the tank of the toilet, leaning it against the wall so it was still visible from the shower.

he steps into the warmth, his body instantly relaxing into the water, soothing his weary muscles. he keeps the shower door open, not caring about the spray of the water that drenches the floor, as long as he could see you. his hand begins to trace town the soft flesh of his stomach, the supple pudge of fat of his abdomen retracting and clenching with arousal as his wraps his hand around his firm cock. his keeps his grip taught, squeezing droplets of pre-cum from the tip, a makeshift lubricant. pretending, wanting it to be your perfect cunt wrapped around him.

“f-fuck me…” he groans through gritted teeth. he did not want to go easy on himself, he didnt deserve that kind of reprieve. he knows this is sick, he knows he’s a fuckin’ perv. you are a damn stranger, a pretty one at that but still a stranger nonetheless. and here he is, stroking his dick to you. iv always had these perverted inclinations, sure he’s jerked off to strangers before, i mean porn exists for a reason but never to someone he knew or has seen in real life.

iv can’t help but feel disgusted with himself, ashamed even. you didn’t deserve this treatment from him…yet that feeling is quickly repressed the moment he stars to move his hand down his shaft.

“shit …thats it bunny…mmm fuck…” his cock throbs in his hand, as he continues to stare down the picture of you, pretending that you were actually there with him.

“keep suckin’ my cock….”

he could almost invision it, pouty, lips wrapping around his throbbing cockhead, all puffy and red from the abuse he so lovingly bestows onto you. he closes his eyes, seeing you so perfectly work his cock, interchanging between your hands and your mouth.

he grips his cock tighter, hips starting to gyrate against the pseudo-rhythm of your movements. an apparition it is, a false narrative constructed by his perverted mind, he could not stop, he would not allow himself to.

“take my fuckin’ cock pretty thing…mm yes. fuck back against it” his teeth clench together increasing the speed of his hand.

“thats its, bunny.. such a dirty little slut for me…oh fuck!”

he had to bite his tongue, supress himself from being too loud, knowing that iii is just outside, ii and vessel in the next room over, and the walls in this shithole of a hotel aren’t exactly thick.

iv gasps softly, letting his eyelids flutter shut again. this time imagining your ass bouncing back against him. the soft plush flesh ripping at the contact, skin slapping together making the most sickening yet lovely sounds. his cock dissapearing between your folds, perfect juicy cunt leaving a creamy ring around his meaty shaft each time he’d pull back, only to slam himself deeper into you over and over again.

gummy walls clenching around his cockhead, milking him of each drop of his cum. gods, it is a disgusting thought, but he wants to empty load after load of cum into you, bredding you senseless until it finally takes. your belly swelling with a strangers kid. his kid. that way he can finally have you.. claim you as his no matter the circumstance. that and the sight of you pregnant would ignite a while other fire under him, he’d not be able to keep his hands off of you, gods. he’d fuck that tight cunt until you’re begging him to stop, sucking greedily on your sensitive nipples, kneading swollen, milk-filled breasts to soothe the ache.

“gonna breed you, bunny…gonna be mine…all mine…”

he is pumping his cock as fast as he could handle, the appendage aching, all red and swollen with a desprate need fo release. he invisions your moans, how they’d pitch in loudness the closer you are to release. he lets his eyes flutter open, watching the picture of you as he nears closer.

“cum on this cock, bunny. be a good fuckin’ girl and cream all over this dick for me” his breath shudders in pleasure.

“i know you want to…mm fuck…that pretty cunt’s all nice and soaked…just beggin’ for my cum”

he can see it so clearly, pretty cunt gushing around him, dripping down onto his thick, meaty thighs. he cums where he stands, through a string of curses and rough, drawn out breaths. his knuckles coated in white, he is surprised he didnt ruin his phone screen with the weight of his orgasm, the sheer amount of cum is more than he anticipated.

“fuck…” he gasps breathlessly, feeling slightly lightheaded from his orgasm. he looks down at himself, his hand still firmly wrapped around the base of his now semi-flaccid cock, the appendage twitching with small pulses, his thighs covered in his cum, trailing down his skin, mixing in with the water. he feels elated, disgusting, still fucking horny, all wrapped up into a perveted bundle.

from this moment on, he needs to see you again. needs to touch you, feel you, taste you… fuck you. it’s beyond primal. fucking biblical even. for the heavens bestowed upon him a goddess and he will do everything in his power to not let you escape from his grasp. you are his, even if you did not know it yet yourself.

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[gureumz]

kingdom come

rating: explicit

member: sunghoon

notes: fem-bodied reader, dom!sunghoon, friends to lovers, pwp, BLASPHEMY, religious references (specifically catholic allusions), slapping, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, reader and sunghoon are students in a catholic college institution

a/n: finally, my blasphemous sunghoon piece that was supposed to coincide with holy week lol i struggled with this a bit but i did my best </3 enjoy!

"holy fuck, wasn't it just sunday yesterday?"

you giggle as you trudge along the halls of your school, sunghoon's voice carrying over to your other classmates' ears. a few of them snicker along while others glance ahead nervously at the professor leading your class to the chapel.

you look up at him, your duly declared best friend, who also happens to always be conveniently right next to you when your class lines up to go anywhere.

"you do know, with you being the tallest out of all of us, your voice is most likely the first to be heard, right?" you ask, grinning mischievously up at sunghoon.

sunghoon flashes you the middle finger. you let out a sound akin to an incredulous gasp.

"i'm telling on you," you tease, punching sunghoon on the arm.

"what are you, five?" sunghoon bites back, pulling lightly at your ponytail.

"oh, wait—," sunghoon hurriedly continues. "you are five. five feet tall, that is."

before you can counter with your own insult, the professor whips his head around and gives both you and sunghoon a pointed look. your head immediately lowers in embarrassment.

sunghoon chuckles one last time beside you, shoving you lightly. you return with another punch, this time to his chest. sunghoon lets out a strangled noise of pain.

eventually, your class arrives at the chapel, your two lines filing into the quiet space. your professor seats you on the pews alternately, one girl, then one boy, then another girl, and so on. presumably, this is done to avoid any gossiping or roughhousing between the female and male students, respectively, but as you seat yourself beside sunghoon, you know that your professors will always forget that you and sunghoon have been inseparable since the day you stepped foot on campus.

"hi," sunghoon whispers, tilting his head down towards you.

"fuck off," you whisper back, but you're already smiling.

sunghoon smiles back, eyes glancing down momentarily. you follow his line of sight, rolling your eyes as you realize the buttons on your blouse are barely holding it together.

"you're such a creep," you mutter, shaking your head.

"you need new blouses," sunghoon says matter-of-factly. "and maybe a bra that isn't a push-up one."

you reach over to pinch sunghoon's thigh. he curses a little too loudly, other students' heads whipping around in your direction.

"is your love language physical harm?" sunghoon complains, rubbing at the spot where your fingernails dug themselves into his thigh.

"wouldn't you wanna know?" you reply sarcastically.

you observe the way his forearm flexes as he continues to absentmindedly soothe the skin underneath the fabric of his pants. your attention is then brought to the stretch in his gray uniform slacks, large thighs practically bursting from the hours sunghoon spends in the college workout room.

your mind had just started to wonder about the veins in sunghoon's hand when the commentator's mic screeches on.

the first half of the mass goes by uneventfully, with you going through the motions of it, standing and seating and responding whenever needed.

you plop down on your seat as the homily begins, most of your mind already tuned out from whatever lesson in conjunction with the gospel the priest is about to rattle on about.

your eyes wander around the chapel at this time, thoughts floating to whatever catches your attention. one minute, it's the gaudy gold trimmings of the altar decorations, the next, it's the sleepy gazes of the mass servers.

and the next minute still, it's the clenching of sunghoon's jaw. you gulp, unaware of just how hard you're staring.

you're not sure when it started, where the playful remarks between you two turned into borderline dirty jokes and the casual playfighting became excuses for you both to let your touches linger on each other for more than what was deemed appropriate for friends.

you're not one to assume, but none of your other guy friends had the audacity to comment so openly on your boobs.

sunghoon catches your eye and his expression shifts to a playful smirk.

he lays a hand on your bare knee, squeezing lightly. you remain nonchalant, ignoring the sneaky side eye you get from jungwon, the guy seated directly to your right who also happens to be the class president.

sunghoon leans ever so slightly toward you, whispering lowly, "are you bored? cause i'm bored."

"shut up, i don't feel like getting in trouble for talking during mass," comes your curt reply.

sunghoon hums in acknowledgment. "i can do the talking. you can just listen."

sunghoon is drawing patterns on your knee and part of your exposed thigh, fingertips swirling over your skin. goosebumps erupt all over your body and you know sunghoon can feel it.

"shut up," you say through gritted teeth, sunghoon's fingers stopping right as they've slipped beneath the hem of your skirt.

sunghoon straightens up, hand unmoving on your thigh.

there it remains for the rest of the homily.

---

"i'm honestly so exhausted," sunghoon grumbles, the two of you walking amongst the throng of students pouring out the chapel doors.

sunghoon has an arm thrown lazily around your shoulders, his perfume coming off strong as he pulls you closer to him.

"i'm so tired of being woken up at ass o'clock in the morning for mass," sunghoon continues.

"same," you agree, trying to conceal the quiver in your voice when you feel sunghoon absentmindedly toying with the patch sewn onto your blouse, the embroidered school's logo conveniently placed right at the upward slope of your breast.

"we can go back to the dorms," you suggest, gently nudging sunghoon's hand off the vicinity of your chest. "take a nap until lunchtime."

sunghoon grins at you, winking. "my place or yours?"

"honestly, you need to stop with the innuendos," you complain, rolling your eyes. "it's getting a little weird."

sunghoon laughs, tightening his arm around you as he maneuvers you toward the direction of the dorm.

sunghoon leans in close to your ear.

"oh, please. i know you like it."

---

normally, girls aren't allowed in the boys' dorm and vice versa, but the security sitting leisurely by his desk outside the squat two-story building of the boys' dorm doesn't care nearly as much as the one standing watch outside the girls' building.

you step into the small common area where there are a handful of students lounging about. they barely spare you and sunghoon a glance as the two of you make your way up the stairs.

you arrive at sunghoon's room at the very end of the hallway, with him opening the door and motioning for you to get in first.

already well-acquainted with your best friend's room, you head straight for sunghoon's bed, sprawling yourself over the comfy sheets.

"move," sunghoon says with a laugh, coaxing you closer to the wall where the bed is pushed up against. you comply, curling into yourself as you press your back against the cool concrete.

sunghoon settles beside you, stretching languidly, his polo riding up his body and revealing part of his toned stomach.

you pretend not to notice.

sunghoon turns to his side, facing you.

"you're incredibly pretty today," sunghoon says right out of the blue.

you giggle, despite the blush you feel creeping down your neck. "i know."

"ooh, confidence. i like that," sunghoon comments, reaching over to toy at the ends of your hair.

"you've been awfully touchy lately," you reply, a shiver running up your spine as sunghoon slowly undoes your ponytail.

"and they're observant, too," sunghoon points out, pulling your hair tie onto his wrist.

"another point for you," sunghoon adds, raising his eyebrows at you.

you bite down on your lip, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

"just tell me whatever it is you want to tell me," you urge.

sunghoon moves closer, your knees knocking against his. he slips a leg between yours, tangling your limbs together.

"i have no idea what you're on about," sunghoon says with a smile and a shrug.

you roll your eyes, giving sunghoon a look.

a few seconds pass by and neither of you has spoken a word. finally, sunghoon takes in a breath.

"as you already know, despite being enrolled in this obviously catholic institute, i was never one for religious worship," sunghoon begins, tracing a finger down from your shoulder to your wrist.

"but when you look the way you do today, sitting so clueless under the chapel lights and in front of the son of God himself, i might just start believing in the divine."

you're bewildered at what you just heard. you're so dumbstruck, you start to laugh.

"you're so full of shit," you say, shoving at sunghoon's shoulder.

sunghoon's expression turns into surprise for a moment before shifting to amusement.

"i thought girls liked romance," sunghoon points out. "i just said 'you're pretty' in the most poetic way i can."

you laugh even louder this time.

"didn't know you were one for poetry," you reply, reaching a hand out toward sunghoon's face. hesitantly, you start to run your fingers through his dark hair.

sunghoon makes a sound of satisfaction as you tug a little near the nape of his neck.

"when you listen to scripture enough times, it starts to sound a little like poetry," sunghoon explains, eyes blinking lazily as he takes in your appearance.

the two of you had moved closer to each other without even noticing.

"that's kind of naughty, don't you think?" you tease, running your nails against sunghoon's scalp. "using the word of God to practice picking up girls?"

sunghoon looks stunned for a second but his laughter soon follows.

"what if i meant to get a little naughty?" sunghoon says with a raise of his brow, pulling your hand away from his head before placing featherlight kisses on your knuckles.

your heart leaps in your chest and your whole body suddenly feels warm, despite the air conditioning in sunghoon's room on full blast. you swallow, trying to find the words to say.

before either of you can get another word out, the bell from the main building on campus tolls noon, signaling the start of lunch.

you bolt upright, palms sweaty as you scoot away from sunghoon.

"we should go eat," you say through unsteady breaths. "the cafeteria will be full, for sure."

sunghoon wordlessly nods, eyes following the curve of your body as he watches you straighten yourself in his mirror.

---

you and sunghoon make your way across campus, at a much slower pace than one would expect from people who are supposedly in a hurry to get lunch.

you walk ahead of sunghoon, replaying in your mind the scene that played out in his room. you can feel his eyes burning through the back of your head but you continue along.

you enter the main building, nearing the chapel once more. you maintain your distance from sunghoon, determined to get to the cafeteria on the second floor. just as you were about to pass by the heavy wooden doors of the chapel towards the stairs, you feel a hand circle around your wrist, pulling you back.

you look up to see sunghoon walking backward toward the chapel, a mischievous glint in his eye. with his overwhelming strength, you can't help but move along with him.

"what are you doing?" you say, eyes wide as sunghoon momentarily turns away to open the chapel door. he slips into the room, pulling you along with him.

sunghoon closes the door behind you as carefully as he can, letting out a breath as he hears the mechanism click in place. he reaches over to lock it.

you're about to protest once more when you feel him press up against you, forcing you against the firm wood.

"i like you," sunghoon blurts out, resting a large hand against your hip.

you stare at him for a moment, expressionless.

"i know," you finally respond, smiling up at him.

sunghoon lets out a chuckle, wrapping his arms around your midsection, pulling you flush against him.

you feel him press his lips against yours and your hands automatically reach up to hold his face steady.

sunghoon kisses you deeper, leaving no space between you as he practically flattens you into the chapel doors. sunghoon's movements are frantic, rushing against the possibility that anyone can find the chapel suspiciously locked at this moment. it wasn't that hard either to request for the key.

you gasp as you feel sunghoon kiss his way down your neck, sucking at a spot just above your collar.

"i know you—fuck—don't really subscribe to the whole religion thing, but in here? are you sure?" you question, growing more breathless by the second.

sunghoon returns to your lips, his hand slipping under your skirt and giving your ass a harsh squeeze. you moan loudly into the kiss.

"you said it yourself. i don't subscribe to the whole religion thing," sunghoon points out as he pulls away, hooking his fingers through the waistband of your underwear.

"in here is perfect."

you have to stop yourself from whimpering at his words, your panties slipping off easily and gliding down your legs as they fall to your ankles. you lift a leg up to quickly grab the lace garment, shoving it deep into sunghoon's pocket.

"that's my girl," sunghoon praises, grinning down at you.

sunghoon pulls you towards the nearest pew, seating himself right in the middle. you climb onto his lap, letting your bare ass press down perfectly with his straining bulge.

"you're gonna stain my pants, baby," sunghoon points out, reaching under your skirt to prod at your core. you gasp when you feel him graze your clit.

"i mean, you're already soaked," sunghoon adds, running his fingers up and down between your pussy lips, gathering more of your arousal.

"hurry up, then," you challenge, glancing briefly at the door.

"so mouthy as always," sunghoon says, grabbing at your chin. you moan, surprisingly pleased at his sudden display of control. his eyes flit toward something behind you.

"and in front of Jesus, no less," sunghoon reminds with a laugh, tightening his grip on your jaw.

you try to get your next words out as best as you can through sunghoon's hold on your face.

"you're the one who brought me here."

sunghoon's eyes darken. he lets go of you, both of his hands grabbing harshly at your boobs instead. he's nowhere near gentle, nails digging through your blouse.

you cry out in surprise, a jolt of pleasure running through you. your hips start to grind against sunghoon but you stop short when you feel him land a slap against your cheek.

"weren't you taught to be quiet in the house of the Lord?" sunghoon asks, brows furrowed as he looks at your bewildered expression.

the skin of your cheek seems to be screaming, red hot with the blood rushing to it.

"i-i'm sorry," you mumble, cradling the side of your face.

sunghoon's expression softens. he leans in, pulling your hand away to kiss the warm flesh of where he had just smacked you.

"good girl," sunghoon says. you shiver as you feel his breath tickle your face.

sunghoon pulls away, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"you okay?" sunghoon asks, his eyes running over your features in concern, and suddenly, he's back to being your playful, pain-in-the-ass best friend.

"i'm fine," you assure him. "but, i swear if we don't hurry up..."

you trail off, grinding your hips down again. you see sunghoon visibly tense, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth.

"go on then," sunghoon says, expression stony once again. "take it out."

he motions to the tent in his pants and you hurriedly oblige, pulling his zipper down. you reach beneath his underwear, tugging it down enough to let his cock free.

your mouth involuntarily waters at the sight, sunghoon's tip an angry red as it oozes precum. the rest is pale, even paler than all of his body, with veins all over.

"i thought you were in a hurry?" sunghoon's voice cuts through your thoughts. "don't keep me waiting, angel."

you move closer, angling his cock right at your aching entrance. sunghoon holds onto your waist as you guide him through your hole.

both of you sigh when you feel him enter you. you lower yourself until all of him is inside you, so impossibly deep you can practically feel it in your belly.

"come on, baby," sunghoon encourages, lifting you off his cock and bringing you back down. you clamp a hand over your mouth, the stretch and feel of him inside you overwhelming your entire body.

you start to move on your own, moving your hips up and down. your knees strain against the wooden seat but you anchor yourself against sunghoon, trying to find the perfect pace.

"that's it," sunghoon says lowly, watching as you ride him, your skirt hiking up higher and higher on your body, leaving you looking totally debauched with your uniform in disarray.

"fuck, _______. just like that, angel."

sunghoon throws his head back, exposing his smooth neck to you. you quicken your movements, whining when you feel the pleasure double. you lean forward, suckling near sunghoon's adam's apple.

"oh God," sunghoon groans, threading his fingers through your hair. he pulls you away from his neck abruptly, looking over your head and right at the altar.

"you see this, God? all that talk about finding your kingdom, but it's right here in—shit—in their warm, sopping wet pussy."

you whine at his words, cheeks burning at how absolutely filthy they are, but the thrill of doing this, of saying all this, right in the very heart of this whole school's foundation, sends you reeling and wanting more.

"up," sunghoon commands, pushing you off him.

confused, you do as he says, standing shakily. you let out a yelp when you feel him turn you around, pressing you against the pew in front of you. you brace yourself against the backrest as sunghoon slips back inside you easily, leaning down so his chest is right against your back.

your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel sunghoon set up a relentless pace, taking you from behind as you both gaze upon the religious relics in front of you.

"so dirty," sunghoon comments. the sound of his skin slapping against yours bounces off the walls of the chapel.

"such a slut for letting me fuck them in a chapel."

you cry out, collapsing against the pew as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching. sunghoon grunts when he feels you clench around him, tightening his hold on your hips, fucking into you even rougher than he already was.

"gonna cum, baby?" sunghoon asks. "say a little prayer when you do, 'kay angel?"

"oh my God," you whimper as you reach down to rub your clit, urging yourself closer and closer to your release.

you hear sunghoon laugh breathlessly behind you but you barely take note of it because the floodgates in your abdomen open and the rush of your orgasm quickly takes over you.

a string of curses, sunghoon's name, and some variations of 'oh my God' spill out of your mouth. you deem this close enough to prayer as you can get.

sunghoon groans in your ear as you clamp down tightly around his cock. he gives a couple more thrusts before he shudders, spilling himself inside you.

you lay limp under sunghoon, catching your breath as your bleary eyes stop to observe the crucified Jesus in front of you. you shiver as you realize what you've just done.

"hoon," you let out weakly. "hoon, we need to get out of here."

sunghoon pulls out of you, quick to shove two fingers in you to keep his cum from leaking out. you gasp at the feeling, shooting sunghoon a death glare.

sunghoon laughs, leaning in to kiss you.

"oh my sweet, sweet angel," sunghoon singsongs, kissing you all over your face.

"you're nasty," you say with a scowl, pushing sunghoon away. he takes his fingers out, reaching into his pocket to hand you your underwear back.

"here, wouldn't want the whole school to know i just filled you with my cum," sunghoon offers with a wink.

you grimace, landing a soft punch to sunghoon's stomach.

"so nasty."

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 3, Part 5

summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.

warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)

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

lips black and blue and gold.

You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons. 

First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think. 

And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–

"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV. 

"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball. 

You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–

"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?" 

"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails. 

" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes. 

"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room. 

When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly. 

You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–

You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft. 

You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…

…the woman. She looks like you. 

Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video. 

"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly. 

He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder. 

"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"

"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–" 

He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts. 

"...Should be okay now."

You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick. 

And that's the second thing: it works . He's  more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame. 

He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then. 

He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it. 

Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo. 

And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll. 

It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask? 

As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier. 

You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one. 

But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen. 

"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives. 

You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls. 

"Miguel,"  You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–" 

There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate. 

With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that. 

You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure. 

Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock. 

~~~

"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials. 

His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind. 

"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?" 

"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion. 

"...what does that even mean?" 

"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day." 

"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?" 

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting." 

"Seriously?" 

"...no, not really."

You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused. 

He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz. 

"Lyla? Could you let us up?" 

He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back. 

"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel. 

"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–" 

She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out. 

"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–" 

"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–" 

[Let it go, that's enough now–] 

"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –" 

"Can you just fucking open the–" 

"What's the magic word?" 

He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–" 

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please." 

"Please what?" 

"Please could you open the fucking door."

There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open. 

In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed. 

"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost. 

"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."

"Fuck off." And then, a little softer. 

"...I told you I have friends."

~~~

You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose. 

Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room. 

"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye. 

You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug. 

"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."

"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused. 

"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–" 

"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up. 

"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how." 

It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas. 

She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said. 

"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking." 

She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding. 

"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?" 

He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally. 

"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"

"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"

"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure. 

"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."

Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back. 

"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita." 

Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl. 

"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular. 

"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around. 

"I don't sound- " 

"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."

Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "

[you're a dipshit, Parker] 

The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have. 

"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."

May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes. 

He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food. 

"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."

"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"

Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!" 

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-" 

"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away. 

"Um, we should… we should go." 

You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question. 

"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?" 

Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."

The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."

"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."

"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."

"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."

"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically. 

"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."

His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations. 

"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? " 

"That's not–" 

"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working. 

His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile. 

"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours. 

"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!" 

You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair. 

"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."

Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders. 

Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit? 

The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around. 

Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood. 

There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined. 

All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate. 

~~~

There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time. 

You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated. 

He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session. 

You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist. 

Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does. 

Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to. 

There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night. 

"Miguel?" 

He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile. 

"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?" 

You squint. "No. Not really."

He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny? 

"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–" 

Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything. 

"Are you even listening to me?" 

He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly. 

"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? " 

Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."

With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue. 

"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.

There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed. 

"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "

It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter. 

You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you. 

He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.

"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag. 

"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut. 

"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."

"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs. 

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused. 

You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."

"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them. 

You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–

"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his. 

You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall . 

"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –" 

"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."

"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt. 

"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."

You scoff. "How would you know?" 

"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?

You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off. 

"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff. 

He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago. 

"You look like a painting."

You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips. 

Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –

He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that. 

"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care. 

"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty. 

"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."

"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours… 

…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit. 

"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest. 

A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same. 

"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.

"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another. 

You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch. 

Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.

Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest. 

"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats. 

"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed. 

Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck. 

"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut. 

"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy. 

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–] 

Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.  

"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–" 

[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–] 

The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach. 

You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt. 

Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts. 

" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"

You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans . 

"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly. 

Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits. 

"And you've got that 9am."

You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat, 

" ...and I've got that 9am ."

He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears. 

"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air. 

_

_

_

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

[aurorasgate]

no 'buts'

satoru gojo x fem!reader | satoru makes you watch, unable to touch him, as he jerks himself off<3

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dacryphilia, masturbation obvi, your hands are tied up with his blindfold, overstimulation/edging, lots of pet names - this man cannot shut up ever okay + lots of cum

you aren’t totally sure how you ended up like this; with your hands held together by familiar black silk still lingering with the warmth of its wearer, the hand of the strongest holding them in place so you couldn’t move them. tears clinging to your lashes when, for the umpteenth time, your husband had torn away from you just as you were about to cum around his long fingers and was now having you watch him kneeling between your legs and jerking himself off so fucking sinfully, unable to touch him or be touched in return.

well perhaps you did have an inkling as to what led to this but you didn’t think your actions deserved this kind of punishment. and it was punishment of the worst kind when satoru didn’t let you touch him. 

yes, he had caught you touching yourself in the middle of the afternoon when he was supposed to be at work but stopped by home to see you. and while he had loved to see the way your little fingers tried to imitate the deepness and thickness of his own fingers in and out of your pretty cunt, a breathless murmur of his name on your lips, he was never one to miss the opportunity to tease and punish you.

you were ever his good girl but fuck he loves when you’re bad too.

“‘toru please,” you beg, your voice shaky and adorable and you try to tug at your pinned down hands but he doesn’t budge. “need to touch you. need you inside me.”

his smirk is devilish, cerulean eyes sparkling like a sea of diamonds and sapphires in the afternoon light coming from the window as he stares down at you through a heavy lidded gaze and snowy locks. you’re clenching around nothing just from looking at him like this but it’s not enough.

“don’t think so baby,” he coos, sticky sweet and followed by a deep groan when he pumps himself harder, faster, at your words. “you only get to watch.”

you swear you could sob and when you feel the cool wetness on your burning cheeks, you think you already are. you wanted him, wanted to cum, wanted him to fill you, needed to kiss him. “but-”

“no buts sweetheart. shit-” he’s head falls back, showing you the bob of his thick throat and when you look down his muscular body glistening with sweat, you see his cock flushed and leaking in his messy hand, his pre mixing with your slick that coated his hand from the time he spent reminding you that your own fingers would never make you feel as good as his, that your pussy was made from only him to touch.

he feels you weakly tug at his blindfold around your wrists, his free hand keeping them from going anywhere but this time he lets you move them, just a bit, enough for you to move so your fingers could lace together with his, giving your hand a light squeeze in time with his thrusts into the tight tunnel of his hand. 

“always so needy for me, aren’t you love?” he says, returning his nearly glowing gaze back to you, taking in your glistening pussy and tits with a light bounce at the way the bed moves as he fucks his hand. “can’t help yourself, can you?” he’s babbling, voice getting more and more breathless the closer he’s getting to his orgasm. “couldn’t wait for me to get home so you just had to touch yourself thinkin’ about me?”

“s-satoru,” you hiccup, your fingernails digging into his hand trying to make his hand in yours feel like enough contact but it’s not even close and you can’t help but cry at how mean he’s being. “please - please. wanna be your good girl.”

“oh yeah?” he feels his heart beating in time with his throbbing cock, your sweet pleas and fat crystalline tears nearly breaking him. “my sweet girl’s done bein’ bad? want me to touch you instead of touchin’ yourself?”

you were the only thing that could bring the strongest sorcerer crumbling to your whims and love but he was also the most annoying and stubborn man you knew, always getting his way even when he was so tempted to give in to you.

you nod desperately. “always wanna be your good girl ‘toru. i p-promise-”

“fuck angel-”

then you’re crying out, feeling the tip of his cock parting your sensitive folds, catching on your clit, throbbing and heated, thick cum drenching your pussy as he continues to pump his cock in slow motions, moving up and down your aching sex. never where you needed him the most but after building you and leaving unable to feel him, the slightest touch would have broken you like delicate glass. 

still making an absolute mess of you, satoru finally kisses you, leaning down to crash your lips together, claiming and heated, muffling your whimpers and his groans with deep, wet, kisses. 

you’re so lost in the overwhelming feeling of him that you don’t notice right away that he’s let go of your bound hands until you feel his fingers whipped away your tears, his other hand, drenched in both of your fluids and pulling away from his still hard cock with a lewd sound, finds your clit to rub in slow circle that soothes your cries and makes has you bucking your hips into his hand.

“just a little more sweetheart,” he murmurs against your lips and you can feel the smirk tugging at his own through the kisses you continue to share. “promise i’ll let you cum soon.”

♡♡♡♡♡

comments & reblogs would be so greatly appreciated!<3 thank you for reading ♡

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[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hello, talented human!!! I’m craving something angsty that makes my heart hurt with Emily and girlfriend reader <3

Hey, friend! I've been thinking about writing this for a while, and your request was the perfect excuse. Very angsty, much sadness. Not resolved per se, but if you know the basic timeline/plot line of Season 6, you should be able to infer a somewhat happy ending 😉 Hope you enjoy! 💖 –illdowhatiwantthanks

White Fang

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, angst, general threats of Criminal Minds-style violence, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Something's going on with Emily, but her trying to break up with you is the last thing you expected. Takes place during the events before/surrounding 06.18.

“I think we should break up.”

Emily might as well have punched you in the stomach. You felt blood rushing in your ears, felt the love and trust you’d built with her over the last few years churn and unsettle themselves inside of you. Her words had taken you completely off guard. All you’d asked is why she seemed so on edge these days, if there was something you could do to help her.

“Emily…” you said, your voice floundering as you tried not to cry. You had arguments. You had points to make, but you couldn’t seem to get them out.

Emily folded her hands as she sat across from you at the kitchen table, both of your breakfasts sitting untouched in front of you. She shrugged.

“I just… I think our relationship has run its course.”

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss,” you spat, your face growing redder by the second. “We live together. I’m in your will. We’ve been together for four years. Four years! We have a cat together!” you yelled, gesturing wildly toward Sergio, who perched in the bay window.

She was silent, picking at the ends of her fingernails, glancing at you every few seconds. She was lying. She had to be lying. You were no profiler, but you knew Emily. You knew all her tells. You knew when she was stressed, when she was lying, when she was trying to do something brave and sacrificial to protect you.

“I want your stuff out by the end of the week,” she said quietly.

You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. In your head, you knew that there was something under the surface. Something had Emily so scared that she was trying to… And then a lightbulb went on in your head.

You sat back in your seat and smirked. “No.”

Emily raised her eyebrows, frustrated. “No?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No. I think you’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.”

“I think you are. I think you’re trying to White Fang me.”

Now she just looked confused. “I’m trying to what?”

“White Fang me,” you repeated. “You know, like in the book, where he lets the wolf go because it’s better for him in the wild. You’re trying to get rid of me because you think I’ll be better off without you.”

“I’m trying to get rid of you because I don’t feel that way about you anymore,” Emily said, but her voice cracked a bit, and you knew then that you were right.

“No, you’re not!” you exclaimed, sighing in frustration. You moved to the chair closest to her and took her hands in yours, even as she tried to avoid your eyes.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” you asked quietly. “I promise I can handle it. I love you, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Your White Fang plan won’t work on me, so you might as well tell me about whatever it is that’s got you so scared.”

Emily’s jaw clenched, and you could see tears forming in her eyes.

You brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her face in your hands. “Please tell me, Em.”

She finally met your eyes, and the unadulterated fear written all over Emily’s face was the first part of this conversation that had truly scared you.

She sighed deeply and shook her head, her demeanor going cold as she watched you. “If I tell you what’s going on, you have to do exactly what I tell you to. Understood?”

You nodded apprehensively.

“I mean it,” she said, eyes drilling into you, voice harsher than usual. “This is not a game. The more information you have, the more danger you're in. This is life and death. I am sorry you’re a part of it…” Emily bit her lip and looked away. “I need to know that you'll follow my instructions exactly.”

“Okay,” you agreed, quiet, more scared now than you’d been when she’d tried to break up with you.

“You remember I told you that, before I joined the FBI, I worked at the CIA and at Interpol?”

You nodded. Emily tugged on the strands of hair closest to her ear–an anxious habit–and you took her hand in yours, running your thumb along the back of it.

“When I worked at Interpol,” she continued, “I was undercover as an arms dealer for almost three years. Our team was investigating a former IRA captain, Ian Doyle. I infiltrated his operation by… by pretending to be in a relationship with him. Doyle had a son and, after we finished the op, I faked the son’s death so he’d be safe if Doyle ever got out of prison.”

This was so much information, information that, frankly, you couldn’t believe you didn’t already have about Emily. You thought you’d known everything, everything about her. Apparently not. You latched to the only piece of information that felt even mildly normal.

“IRA like the bank accounts?”

Emily sighed again, somewhere between amusement and deep, deep sadness. “No, baby. The Irish Republican Army. The terrorist organization.”

“Okay,” you nodded, your voice shaky.

Emily took another deep breath. “Last month, Doyle escaped from prison in North Korea. As far as my contacts and I can tell, he’s in DC. He’s tracking down the members of my team and killing them, likely for information about his son.”

Emily watched the wheels turning in your head as you realized what she was saying, watched you grow more and more scared. And she hated herself then. She hated herself for not having the fortitude to follow through on breaking up with you. It would be so much safer for you, so much easier, if you didn’t know, if she could just let you go. But she couldn’t. Not when you were holding on so tightly.

“But…” You tried to reason yourself out of the terror that had taken over your body. “But you were undercover, right? He doesn’t even know who you really are. He wouldn’t even know… that you’re here. Right?”

When she didn’t answer, you prompted her again, your voice high and desperate. “Right, Em?”

“I’m pretty sure he knows who I am,” she whispered, holding tight to your shaking hands. “I think he knows who I am, where I am… I think he knows… who I care about.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, panic shooting icy-hot through your body. Emily smiled wryly at you when you finally met her eyes.

“Do you wish you’d just left?” she asked.

“N-no,” you replied, a tear streaking down your cheek. “I’m just–I’m scared, that’s all. But I’m still… I’m still not going anywhere.”

Emily grasped your head and pulled you toward her, wrapping her arms around you and holding you close as you hyperventilated. She was overwhelmed by you–your love, your loyalty, your bravery in the face of what most people would run from. She hated to drag you into this, hated to be the reason you were in danger, the reason you were scared. But she was also so selfishly glad to have you with her.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly as your breathing slowed.

You nodded, pulling back to wipe your face and look her in the eyes.

“What are we gonna do, Em?”

Emily steeled herself for this part of the conversation. “This is the part where you listen, and you do what I say. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re gonna go to my grandfather’s cabin in the Alps.”

“To France?!” you blurted, alarmed. Emily squeezed your hand.

“You’re gonna go to the cabin and stay there until I come for you. It's far enough off the map that you should be safe there. You’ll travel under an alias. I have bank accounts and a passport set up for you under a new name. You'll use a new phone. You cannot under any circumstances log into any of your social media accounts on it. You cannot tell your family where you are. You can’t tell anyone where you are. There’s a stash of burner phones at the cabin, which you can use to call your family once a week to tell them you’re safe.”

“But…” you protested lightly, scared out of your mind at this point. “What’ll I tell them?”

“I don’t care. Lie. But do not tell anyone where you are. If you don’t hear from me in six months–”

“Six months!?” you exclaimed.

“Listen to me, baby, this is important,” Emily said forcefully, grabbing the sides of your face, then softening her touch. She took a shaky breath and looked at you for a long time, as if she were trying to memorize every line, every contour, every bit of your face. “If you don’t hear from me in six months, I am probably dead.”

“Em!” you squeaked out, somewhere between a terrified yelp and a sob.

“After the six months is up, you can go back to the States, but you should continue to use your other identity for at least a year.”

“What about you?” you asked, rocking a little, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m gonna try to shake Doyle.”

You closed your eyes, your body’s tremors seemingly out of your control for now. You didn’t even know where to start. The fact that Emily was some sort of undercover spy? That she’d been in a fake relationship with a terrorist? Faked the death of his kid? That you were fleeing the country and, even worse, fleeing without Emily? Somehow the worst part was that you hadn’t known any of this. You felt like, somehow, you knew both more about her than anyone and nothing about her at all.

“Are you alright?” Emily asked gently, her eyes full of apology.

You started to shake your head, then nodded instead. Emily had enough on her plate. Your sanity didn’t need to be one more thing to worry her.

“When do I have to leave?”

“I can get you a ticket for tomorrow.”

You blinked, trying not to cry. Of the two of you, Emily had definitely gotten the shorter end of this stick. But, god, you were so scared you felt sick to your stomach. But you wouldn't fall apart in front of Emily. You wanted her to know that you were strong and capable, that you could do what she’d told you to, that you’d be waiting there safe and sound when she came to get you. When she came to get you, you told yourself. Not if.

“I’d better pack,” you muttered, wiping your nose as you stood abruptly and made your way to the bedroom.

Emily wanted to follow you. She wanted to hold you and never let you go. But she thought you might need some time alone to process. If you had come back into the kitchen, you would have seen her bent over the kitchen table, her head in her hands, crying quietly.

Neither of you could sleep that night, watching the minutes creep by, feeling your time together dwindling down. After a while, you gave up on sleeping and just held each other, quiet and close in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” Emily sobbed out in the early hours of the morning.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you told her, wrapping your body impossibly closer around hers.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Em,” you whispered, kissing away the tears from under her eyes. “I love you.”

But this only seemed to make her cry more.

“I love you,” you said again, holding her so close you could feel her tears against your chest. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Your goodbye was short, chaste, both of you trying very hard not to make the other cry. Emily on her way to work, you taking an Uber to the airport.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, kissing her one last time before you left. When you pulled away, her eyes looked sad, distant, full of doubt. You squeezed her hand. “I will see you soon.”

But you couldn’t shake the feeling, as you drove off, that it might be the last time you ever saw her, the last time you ever held her or kissed her or laughed with her. You shook your head, brushing away tears. There’d be plenty of time to cry in France. For now, it was time to become someone else.