#but I already have such struggles with my mouth/jaw idk if that would be a good idea functionally for me lmao

[veshialles]

I wanna start making like... a body mods wishlist or something

[whore4abby]

ooo i always have so many ideas but then my mind just goes blank lol

maybe abby and the reader are at a family dinner at either abby or the readers like aunts house idk and they sneak off to a bathroom/somewhere more private to make out all messy but then the reader stops abby before anything else happens to tease her and get her all worked up??

sorry if that’s horrible 😭

-🎀

home for the holidays; abby anderson

i literally had so much fun with this aaaaaaa thank u so much for this request <3

warnings; smut - dry humping, pussy slapping, fingering, abby covering readers mouth, reader sucking abby’s fingers

wc; 1.8k…..i got very carried away hehe

you’ve always loved spending christmas with abby’s family you always have such a fun time even if it was a little hectic and frenzied at times. most of the afternoon was spent making small talk with the rest of abby’s family which abby herself was in the kitchen helping her dad make dinner.

you hung out with her siblings for a little while and played all of abby’s little nieces and nephews until you got a little disinterested and all you wanted was to just see your girl again.

you wander into the kitchen and see her stood at the island preparing ingredients for dinner. abby is doing her best to keep calm as she slices vegetables but you can tell she’s getting a little agitated with being around so many people in such a small space. you notice her hand gripping the knife harshly, freckled knuckles turning white and her jaw tightly clenched.

she’s so focused on chopping up the vegetables that she doesn’t hear you behind her.she suddenly feels a pair of warm hands on her shoulders. she nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels your touch, and she slowly turns around to face you, suddenly feeling more at ease at close proximity. "hi, my love..."

she leans into you for some much-needed comfort, leaning her head against your shoulder and you feel tension in her body beginning to dissipate. you can feel her breathing slowly becoming more even and regular as she relaxes against you.

the last couple days have been spent over at her dad’s house have been hectic and busy to say the least, leaving you little to no alone time with abby. she's been craving some time alone with you for fucking days, but the constant hustle and bustle of the house makes it difficult to fulfil.

all she wants is to have a moment where it's just the two of you, where you can spend some quality time together and not being able to do so us causing her to become more frustrated as the hours pass by.

she glances around and notices how busy the kitchen is, realising it would be pretty easy for the two of you to sneak away without anybody noticing. she’s suddenly pulling at your sleeve and ushering you through the house and up the staircase.

before you reach and empty room she’s pushing you up against the wall so hard the picture frames hung above your head rattle and clang against the drywall. you’re paranoid of somebody catching you and you swiftly pull her into the nearest empty guest room.

before you know it you’re pinned under her as she straddles you, her thick thighs pinning you down either side of your waist. abby chuckles as she struggles to take her shirt off due to the sheer excitement of finally getting her hands in you. you’re already a giggling mess as you reach up to help her pull her shirt up and over her head, sending it tumbling to the hardwood floor.

her hands start to slip up under your sweater as she desperately tugs it off your body before she starts to roughly grope your tits over your lacy bra. she gives a soft smirk and without warning, she leans down pressing her lips lovingly against yours as her hips grind against you. you pull apart for a second, looking up into her eyes with a needy gaze. “please, abs….been too long.”

“i know baby…i know.” she reassures you, glancing down at your lips before leaning close again. her mouth hungrily meeting yours, tongues swirling against each others, causing her to let out a soft groan.

her body is pressed tightly against yours as she continues to grind her hips against you. "i've missed this so much." she whispers, her voice a raspy murmur as her lips glide over your throat.

she wedges one of her thighs in between yours, her knee pressing into your cunt over your pants. your body practically goes lax as you finally get some stimulation exactly where you need it. “fuck. feels so good, abby~”

she continues to kiss you messily and grind against you, her breath becoming more shallow as she starts to lose herself in the moment. "mhm.. that's right~" she smirks, that familiar cocky look on her face as she sees how much you’re loving this.

abby's breathing becomes more shallow as she continues to rock her body against you with a bit more intensity, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip to stifle her voice as she lets out a deeper, more primal moan that makes your pussy clench around nothing whilst her knee bumps into your clit over and over.

just as the two of you start to get into a steady rhythm, you’re interrupted once again by someone calling out for the two of you from downstairs to tell you dinner is ready.

“every fucking time.” she curses under her breath as once again your alone time has been interrupted and she’s forced to pull away from you. her chest still heaving as she sits on the edge of the bed, grumbling to herself as she throws her shirt back over her head begrudgingly.

you lean up on your elbows, watching her as she practically sulks like a little child. “why does this keep happening?” you whine and throw yourself back on the bed dramatically. a second later you’re being pulled off of the bed by your forearms and your shirt is being slung over your head by abby.

you desperately hope no one will notice you slightly disheveled clothes and hair or your lip gloss that’s now sloppily smeared around your mouth. you giggle as abby reaches out to wipe the gloss away, ‘innocently’ opening up your mouth slightly and letting her thumb slip into the warmth of your mouth before she quickly retracts it. she grits her teeth and grips your jaw with her strong hand, “don’t be a fucking tease.” she mumbles sternly, pressing a long, hard kiss straight onto your lips before pulling away and dragging you out of the room and back downstairs.

hours later, everyone has gone to bed in their respective rooms for the night after all watching a movie together which finally leaves you and abby alone for the night.

she's laying on the sofa with you resting in between her legs. she watches as the next movie of the channel starts to play, but you can tell she's not really paying attention to it as her fingers run up and down your thighs teasingly, inching closer and closer to the edge of your panties each second.

she slowly starts to hike up the edge of your nightdress further exposing your thighs to cool air. she stops her teasing and eventually pulls the nightdress up over your hips so she can see the mess you’ve made in your panties. there’s already a wet patch right in the center of your pretty panties and she can’t help but run her finger over it lightly, seeing how you react.

your breath hitches in your throat and you look back over your shoulder at her wordlessly begging her to carry on. she smiles and pressing a kiss to your cheek before she pushes your panties to the side to get a glimpse of your pussy that she’s been desperate to get her hands on for the last four days.

“missed this fucking pussy so much.” she growls as she slaps your pussy sending a jolt of pleasure through your body and you whine out her name. she chuckles cruelly and slaps at your swollen clit again, harder this time whine has you loudly moaning out her name, causing her to cover your mouth with her giant hand, “shut up. be a good girl and shut up for me, yeah?”

you nod obediently and she starts to rub doting circles over your clit, snaking her other hand round to pinch at your nipples through the soft cotton of your nightdress. you’re trying you absolute best to stay quiet but you can’t help the squeaks that leave your lips, pathetic noises slipping through her hands attempt to muffle you. “shut the fuck up or i’m not letting you cum.”

your eyebrows furrow as you try your best to stay silent. her fingers move from your clit down to your weeping hole and she dips her fingers into your folds, inhaling sharply as she feels how wet you are. “god baby, bet you could take three fingers right now. you’re so fucking wet~” she slips her middle and ring finger inside, pumping them slowly as the pads of her digits bump into that spongy spot inside.

your back starts to arch into her and you attempt to pry her hand from your mouth, desperately wanting to kiss her and feel her tongue against yours. she doesn’t even have to speak as the look in her eyes says it all - she’s obviously serious about not letting you cum if you make even the tiniest of noises - she reluctantly pulls her hand away and your arm is quickly wrapping around her neck and pulling her down towards you. the both of your mouth meet in a rough kiss, tongues and teeth clashing together messily.

she adds a third finger and you have to bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning as she stretches your tight hole out with her thick fingers. they’re pumping in and out of you at an eye-rolling pace, completely coated in your slick and glistening in the low light emanating from the christmas tree in the corner of the dim room.

abby notices how hard you’re biting down on your bottom lip and offers you the fingers of her free hand instead. she’s nudging your chin up towards her and before you can even reply your mouth is stuffed full of her fingers exactly how your pussy is.

she’s fucked you so dumb you don’t even think twice before your sucking her fingers into your mouth, moaning around them as she plunges her fingers in and out of your dripping hole pushing you closer and closer to the edge each time. “that’s a good girl, cum for me baby~” abby murmurs, kissing up and down the shell of your ear as she keeps up the pace of her fingers.

the base of her wrist smashing against you clit with every stroke has you literally drooling all over her fingers as your pussy clenches and squelches around her fingers obscenely. your head falls back against her chest and you’re whining and gasping as you cum all over her fingers, syrupy slick gushing out of your abused hole.

abby’s fingers eventually slow down and she slips them out of you, but not without you whining in protest at the empty feeling your experiencing without her fingers stretching you and keeping your pussy stuffed to the brim. “shh…shh, it’s okay. you did such a good job baby, i’m so proud of my girl~”

© 2023 whore4abby all rights reserved

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: The Space Between Us

Prompt: I’m so glad you’re back! Can you write something where the reader & Luke are in an argument? Maybe he’s struggling when he gets back from Afghanistan or something? Idk you can be creative with the rest :) Thank you!

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: PTSD symptoms mentioned

A/N: thanks for the request, enjoy! 

You’re in the midst of scrubbing a dish clean when you see the headlights of Luke’s truck pull in the driveway. 

He cuts the ignition. The sun is long gone, set beyond the hills in the distance, so when the door opens and closes with a thud, you can’t get a good look at him. Suddenly, you realize how torn you are between being relieved that he’s finally home and still so angry at him for leaving in the first place. 

The fight you’d had a earlier had been a bad one– probably the biggest you’ve ever had. And Luke looks… God, he looks so tired as he walks across the driveway, his silhouette illuminated by the porch light you’d left on. His head is hanging low, his feet trudging along the steps towards the front door. Under normal circumstances, you would greet him there– throw your arms around him the second he walked inside and bury your face in his neck. But tonight you can’t– because these aren’t normal circumstances. 

Instead, as soon as he steps through the door, you set the dish down and turn to face him. 

“Hi baby,” he murmurs. The pet name he uses makes you cling to the small sliver of hope that maybe things will be okay. 

But still, your eyes burn with unshed tears. “Hi.”

“How has your day been?” he attempts. 

But you shake your head. “Luke, I really can’t fake pleasantries tonight.”

He scrubs his face with his hand and sighs, like he can’t wait to be done with this entire situation– the fighting, the chaos, you. As unbearable of a thought it is, you can’t help but glance at it in the horizon. What if that’s what’s happening here? What if he’s sick of you? What if his feelings for you had changed since he’d been away?

It’s a possibility– no matter how badly you don’t want it to be. 

“Listen, I’m just so tired–” He sounds defeated… empty. 

“And you think I’m not?” You challenge. 

He shifts before gripping his neck with his hand, still hovering near the door, not daring to move closer. It’s as if he’s already distancing himself from you… As if he’s done. 

“Well if we’re both tired, this probably won’t be a very productive conversation. Why don’t we just pick this back up after we’ve gotten some rest?”

You dig your nails into your palms, a distraction from the pain in your chest. He doesn’t get it– this anxiety that’s been making a home inside your chest. No matter how hard you push and plead. And you don’t know what else to say to make him get it. 

“How am I supposed to know you’d still be here by tomorrow?” 

His jaw tenses. 

“That’s a pretty fair possibility considering the shit you pulled today.”

Luke sighs. “I know I did and I’m–”

“You stormed out,” you say, taking a step forward so that you can grip the island counter. “You left.”

He opens his mouth to speak, and you know you need to let him talk. You know he deserves a chance to say his piece. But you’re still just so angry… you’re consumed by it. So you continue. 

“What if I had done that to you?” You ask. “What if I had been the one to take off and then just… not come home for over twelve hours?” 

He squeezes his eyes shut. 

“You’d be pretty worried, huh? Maybe a little mad…”

“Baby–”

“No, you’d be fucking pissed, Luke! I know you would. So why is it okay for you to do that to me? Why is it okay to take off and not answer any of my calls or texts?”

The pained look on his face tells you everything you need to know– that you’re right. 

“You say you have dreams– nightmares where you can’t find me,” you say, using the things he’s told you to prove your point– digging where you know it’ll hurt, because you’re just so fucking angry, and you need him to understand. “That was my reality today, Luke. You put me through your literal fucking nightmare.”

“Please don’t,” he mumbles, his head hanging low.

“I was so worried. I- I didn’t know where you were,” your voice breaks. I didn’t know if you’d ever come back�� is what you don’t say… what you’re too afraid to say. 

When Luke got back from Afghanistan, that was supposed to be it. You were supposed to be through with the distance, through with the heartache, through with being terrified that every time the phone rang, it was someone telling you he was dead. 

But although he was discharged almost three months ago now– it doesn’t feel like it. Instead it feels like walking on eggshells and waiting for the other shoe to drop. And while you want to play it off as just an adjustment period and some misunderstandings, it’s starting to feel bigger than that. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice still empty-sounding. “I didn’t want to make you worry.”

“To make me worry?” 

“I was going to call,” he explains, “But my phone died. And I– I needed some space.”

“Some space?” You gawk. “Are you kidding me? You needed space?”

He nods, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours. 

“Luke, you’ve been gone for three years. All you’ve had is space– all I’ve given you since you’ve been back is fucking space– I have waited and waited for you to come home from the army. I counted down the years, the months, the days– I lived on letters and shitty phone calls where I could barely even hear you because of the horrible reception. And now… you’re out, you’re home. You’re finally here, except you’re not. You never fucking came back from Afghanistan, Luke. You haven’t even given me a chance to not give you space because you’re not fucking here.”

There’s an eerie silence, a dramatic, drawn out pause that only seems to magnify the space between you. 

“That’s not fair,” he says. 

“Not fair? You really want to talk not fair, Luke? What’s not fair is leaving in the middle of an argument and not coming home all day. What’s not fair is not calling or texting or giving me some shred of fucking evidence that you were alright. I mean, do you understand how fucking worried I was? Do you even care?”

“Of course I fucking care– I just… I needed to–”

“Needed to what?” You snap, your voice raising as your arms flail in the air. “To take off? To leave?”

“I don’t–” Luke stammers, sounding so defeated. “I don’t know.”

Another beat of eerie silence settles between you. After only a moment, you can’t take it anymore. So, you ask the question you’ve been terrified to know the answer to. “Are you going back?”

His head snaps up, like he’s surprised you even asked. 

“Th-this is all my fault. Fuck, I should never have let this get—” he stammers. 

“Don’t,” you say, your voice louder than you thought it could be at your current state. “Just don’t, Luke.”

But he continues. 

“It’s the right thing to do,” he tells you, and you have to swipe the tear sliding down your cheek before he can see. “I just…”

“Just tell me, are you going back?” you say, harsher than you intended. 

“No,” he shakes his head, adamant. Finally he looks at you. You hoped that would’ve given you some sort of comfort, but it doesn’t. Instead, you see pleading eyes, usually so warm you want to sunbathe in them, so familiar that you want to curl up and call them home. But tonight they’re neither warm nor familiar. 

“Then what is it? What the hell is going on?” you say. 

“I don’t know what to do, but I can’t keep— I can’t keep…” 

“Just tell me,” you plead, voice rising. Because you can’t stand this. “Please, just fucking tell me. Luke, I’m begging–”

“I can’t do this,” he finally spits out. “I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t.”

And there it is. 

The nail in the coffin. 

The final straw.  

Your worst nightmare.

“Right,” you exhale the rest of the air in your lungs. Before you burst into a sobbing mess in front of him, you give Luke a short nod and turn away. 

“Wait–” you hear him call. 

“It’s fine, Luke,” you say over your shoulder without looking at him. “Like you said earlier, we’re both tired.”

“Wait, wait,” he follows you up the stairs, but you were too far ahead of him.

“Just forget it–” you say, voice choking with tears. 

“Baby– stop, please–” he gets out just as you slam the door to the bedroom shut.

You stifle your sob in the sleeve of your sweater, back pressed against the door for a moment while you try to collect yourself. Then you walk to the bed and collapse on the mattress in a heap. As you curl up, clutching Luke’s pillow like it’s your lifeline, you try desperately to breathe between sobs. And then, even though you know he won’t, you hope with everything inside of you that he comes after you. 

…

You can’t sleep. Whenever you try, you just feel like you hear sounds of him leaving again– the screen door snapping shut, the zipper of his bag, the fear and anxiety only intensifying as the hours wear on.

All you have is silence and your thoughts.

I can’t do this, he had said. His direct words. 

You bury your face in his pillow as you try to hold back more tears, wondering if you’re imagining the way his scent is starting to fade from the fabric. How could you miss someone living under the same roof as you?

You roll onto your back again as you stare up at the ceiling, watching the fan whirl around and around steadily. 

“Fuck,” you mutter as you sit up. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes frustratedly before turning the lamp on. Was Luke even home? Or had he taken off again? You hate that you even have to wonder. How can things have gone so wrong so fast? 

As soon as the doubt creeps into your mind, you know it’s there to stay– at least until you can see for yourself whether or not Luke is still home. So, you swing your legs over the bed and head for the door. Except as soon as you swing it open and step forward into the hall, your feet collide with something– and before you know it, you’re crashing to the floor with a hard thud. 

All the air is sucked from your lungs as your stomach collides with the carpet beneath you. 

“Fuck, are you okay?” Luke’s familiar voice hovers above you. 

And while you don’t really have the oxygen in your lungs to answer his question, when you turn your head and open your eyes, you can see the faint outline of his features from the lamp you’d turned on in the bedroom. His eyebrows are scrunched together– like they’re concerned, and his mouth is slightly agape. 

“Baby, are you okay?” Luke repeats, his hand hovering on the outside of your hips. 

“No–” you stammer, flipping so that you’re lying on your back. You barely choke out the single word before you’re bursting into unfiltered tears– the blubbery kind, where you can barely breathe in between sobs. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” he says, sounding panicked. He shifts, scooching forward so that he’s closer to you, but he still doesn't dare to touch you. “What hurts, baby?” 

All you can manage to do is shake your head before you move to cover your face with your hands– a feeble attempt at hiding from him. Like that would make any difference. At one point, you feel his fingers ghost along the fabric of your sleeve, trying to tug your hands from your face. 

“Look at me, baby,” he begs. But you just shake your head harder, resisting his pleas. 

“C’mon, I just want to know if you’re–” 

But he doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence before you break. Flinging your arms down, you shout, “No I’m not fucking okay! Nothing about this is okay!” 

He flinches back, arms dropping to his side. Instantly, another wave of tears well up in your eyes, choking out before you can stop them. And suddenly, you’re crying so hard you can barely breathe. You’re a mess– all blubbery and pathetic in front of him. But you don’t even have the energy to care anymore. 

“Just breathe, baby. Breathe,” he says. He moves like he’s going to reach for you– and you let yourself get your hopes up in that fraction of a second. But then he drops his arm back down and frowns, like he’s caught himself doing something he isn’t supposed to. The space between you now only makes you cry harder, gasping for air in between sobs. He’s right beside you, but in some ways, he feels even further than when he was across the ocean. 

“I’m sorry I tripped you.”

You shake your head. “I’m– I’m not crying because you tripped me,” you bellow. Before you can see the questioning look on his face, you continue. “What–” you try to say, but your voice is too choppy. “What… are… you even–” you stammer harder. “What are you even doing out here? Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry–” Luke repeats. “I didn’t want to sleep on the couch– I wanted… I wanted to make sure you were okay, I wanted to be there if you needed anything.”

You pause, realization washing over you. 

Luke was here–

Outside the bedroom door.

Sleeping on the floor like a goddamn golden retriever. 

But why? After everything he’d said– and the way he’d acted earlier? 

“You dumbass,” you snap, finally sitting up from the carpet. “I did need you. Why don’t you get that? Why don’t you understand that I fucking need you? That I’ll always need you!”

“I–” he stammers. “I don’t– I didn’t mean to upset you–”

“Well guess what? You leaving upsets me! You sleeping in the hallway instead of in our bed upsets me! You not wanting me anymore upsets me!”

“Wait– what? Not wanting you?” he says, his tone disbelieving.  

“Not being able to do this anymore– or whatever you said. Guess what, Luke? That’s upsetting!”

“I didn't mean it like that–” he says quickly, his eyes downcast as he seems to try to think if he really had worded things that way. “I– Fuck, I just– I just meant I couldn’t fucking handle… I couldn’t handle things–. I couldn’t deal with this… this feeling inside of me since I’ve been back from the army– I didn’t mean you– God, baby it was never you–”

“But–” you whisper, shaking your head. “You said–”

“I don’t remember what I said–” Luke explains. “I bet it was fucking stupid– I’ve been so overwhelmed and frustrated at myself. I don’t know what I said, but I promise I didn’t mean it like that, baby.”

You close your eyes at his answer, everything clicking into place. Is it possible that this was just all one giant misunderstanding? Did Luke still want to be with you?

“I thought…” you stammered, your voice next to nothing. “I thought you were done with me. You said you were done.” 

More tears escape down your cheeks and you duck your face to hide from him once again. 

“No– no. God, I’m so sorry… I can’t,” he says, his voice low and tired. “I just don’t feel like myself since I’ve been home. I don’t know what to do and I’m always on edge… I can’t breathe half the time. But I swear it’s not you–” he swallows and takes a moment to compose himself. 

“Then what is it?” You plead. “Why can’t you stand being home with me? Why aren’t I enough?”

God, you sound pathetic– but after the emotional roller coaster Luke had put you through these last few months, you really couldn’t help it. 

“I don’t know what it is–” he admits. “I wish I did, but I don’t. But please trust me, baby girl, you are enough. You’re more than enough. I mean, you are the only thing that makes me even feel alive anymore. I can’t believe you haven’t gotten sick of me– I don’t know how you’ve put up with this for so long.”

He lets out a loud huff when you launch yourself into his lap– completely erasing the distance between you two on the floor once and for all. Before he knows what’s happening, you’re winding your arms around his neck and burrowing your face in the crook of his shoulder, squeezing him tightly. He hesitates, but only for a moment, before his arms are securely wrapping around your waist, anchoring you to him. He buries his face in your hair, breathing you in. 

“Because I love you, you idiot,” you sniffle. 

He squeezes you tighter, holding you to him like he’s scared you’ll disappear. You know the feeling, all too well. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he whispers into your hair. “I- I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. Everything sets me on edge– every noise, every thought. 

When you pull back, your heart aches as soon as you see tears glistening in Luke’s eyes. You cup the outside of his face, your thumb trailing up and down his cheek. “We can figure it out,” you promise. “We’ll get you to see someone– a doctor or a therapist, or someone that can help. We’ll figure it out.”

He nods like he actually believes you. 

“I know you’re tired,” you say, shifting to move from his lap. “Let’s just go to bed, okay? We can figure the rest out in the morning.”

He nods and lets you tug him to his feet. You cling to his hand as you walk towards the bedroom, afraid that if you let him go, he’ll disappear again. 

“I can take the couch,” he says softly, making you halt in place. You turn to face him almost instantly. 

“What?” You shake your head, brow instantly furrowing. “No–” Instantly, you feel your anxiety creeping up again. 

“I just– I can take the couch if you want space.”

“No, Luke. I don’t want space. Do you want space?”

He shakes his head quickly.

“Good,” you say. “Then stay with me. Please.” 

He nods, while you walk him the rest of the way to your bed. He waits for you to crawl to your side closest to the wall before he slides under the sheets beside you. He looks stiff– awkward when he first lays down, but you don’t give him long before you’re scooting into his side, resting your head on his chest. 

“Thanks, for being patient with me,” he mutters. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll figure this out,” you say. “I love you.”

He gathers the hand you have resting on his chest in his own, lacing your fingers together and giving it a tight squeeze. “I love you, too.”

You exhale, noticing that even breathing feels easier with him beside you. 

[catoslvt]

Finnick Odair x Reader

Already together .

You two have sex in the arena to get back at President Snow and also because idk.

smut, public smut in a way, dom finnick

"Finnick! Is the fish almost ready?" He yells from the sand, and finnick quickly steps back and grabs all the fish on the stand behind him before walking back to the group, me following him with his spear in my hands, not only is the spear rather heavy but its taller than me, so it is a little bit of a struggle but it's okay because the walk didn't even last thirty seconds before we had a small fire going with the fish cooking over it.

As finnick twirls his spear in his hands, I quickly clench my legs shut, staring at him with my jaw open slightly.

"Are you okay? You look gobsmacked." Johanna asks as she lets out a small laugh.

"You can't tell me finnick isn't hot." I gasp, keeping my voice down because I'd only boost finnicks ego.

"I can't. He's your boyfriend. I'm your best friend. It would be a bit weird if I agreed." Johanna tells me with a smile, and I slowly nod, not taking my eyes off of Finnick who must've sensed my eyes on him, because he turns to me with a devilish look on his face as he slowly licks his lips before smirking and johanna gags.

"I can't believe they let you compete in the games together. Your PDA makes me feel sick!" She exclaims, loud enough so that finnick hears and lets out a small chuckle, and I have the idea to go stand with him, so I practically throw myself off of my sitting down position and run over to where finnick is standing, spearing fish as I stare at him amazed.

"I'm lucky the arena had something to do with water because your suit, wow." I gasp as I stare at finnicks arms, the muscles practically popping out.

"I'm the lucky one, love. I get to see your gorgeous body." He says. His hand slowly made its way to my hip, which he gently rubs, his eyes slowly flickering down to my lips, and I lean in to kiss him before Beetees voice ruins the moment.

Everyone's been asleep for an hour, finnick, and I have to stay up for another hour before our shift of watching is over, and it's honestly killing me, not because I'm tired but because how gorgeous finnick looks in the light from the moon.

"I didn't get my kiss earlier." Finnick says, his back leading against an extremely oversized rock, and I shake my head as I stand up to stretch my legs, finnick immediately stands up following me as I slowly walk along the beach front.

"Even though we're in an arena, it's oddly peaceful. The stars are beautiful." I mutter, and finnick grabs my hand and quickly spins me around, so I'm facing him and he smiles.

"Not as beautiful as you, I'd rather watch you than a million stars each night." Finnick tells me, a cheeky grin growing on his lips as my arms snake around his neck.

"A tribute could kill us right now, and I wouldn't care as long as im with you." I whisper before I kiss his lips, my lips lingering for a little longer than a normal kiss, which causes finnick to let out a low laugh.

"I'd rather not die, but I see what you're trying to say." He says before he leans in and kisses me again, slightly deeper this time as his tongue gently slides through my lips and enters my mouth, and I let out a small gasp, as my hands unravel from around his neck and make their way to his hair, which I gently tug.

"I've wanted you since the minute I saw you coming out your tube." Finnick whispers in my ear before spinning me around and guiding me behind the large rock he was leaning against earlier, and I quickly realise what he's suggesting, and I gasp.

"Finnick, we can't have sex in the middle of an arena! There's going to be cameras watching us, plus the group will hear us." I whisper in his ear.

"So you don't want to?" Finnick asks in a teasing voice and I roll my eyes.

"Of course I want to, but we could end up being punished." I state.

"And what? It's not like we're not getting out this arena together." He whispers as quietly as possible, clearly hinting at our plan.

"As long as we're quick and quiet." I whisper and finnick quickly sits on the sandy beach, his back leaning against the rock facing away from the group as he pulls me on top of him so that I'm straddling his lap as he pulls my hips closer to him so that I'm sitting ontop of his already hard dick.

"You're beautiful, you know that, right?" Finnick asks, his lips curling into a smile.

"Oh, shut up." I mumble as I begin pulling down the tight leggings all tributes had to wear this year, as finnick does the same with his, except he doesn't have to pull his down as much as I do.

"If there's a camera behind us, then they're getting a great shot of my ass." I whisper, as finnick pulls me down on his dick, making me let out a small groan as I sit at the base of his cock, my head hanging low as my mouth opens.

"Not anymore." Finnick whispers back as he pulls the ass of my leggings back up whilst he lets out a small grunt himself as I begin rocking my hips slightly.

"Who said you're in control?" Finnick asks, and I instantly stop whilst his hands make their way to my hips, slowly helping me to bounce up and down, but only doing it very slowly because if we speed up only slightly we'd both be moaning messes.

"You're so fucking hot." I mutter, my lips instantly making their way to Finnicks as he continues to bounce me up and down, both of us being in such states the kiss turns rather sloppy and messy really quick.

"I really hope no tribute finds us." I mumble against finnicks lips as he gently speeds up the rate of my bouncing, causing me to let out a rather large moan.

"I hope brutus stumbles across us. He kept eyeing you up all during training even though I made it clear you're mine." Finnick angrily whispers.

"You're my fucking girl." He grunts as his hips begin to buck up in time with my bouncing, causing my head to fall on his shoulder.

"God finnick." I quietly moan as his hands tighten on my hips at the mention of Brutus, and the thought of finnick makes me cum before finnick even can, and I gently lift myself off him so he can't cum inside of me, and finnick goes to move his hands to his dick to finish himself off himself, but I swat them away as I motion for finnick to sit up on the rock, which he doesn't protest as he quickly does it, but he stares at me confused as I sit on my knees infront of him.

"Now, what are you doing?" Finnick asks as I tuck my hair behind my ears, his eyebrows raising, and instead I say nothing and put his dick in my mouth, the sudden movement clearly taking him by shock as I stare up at him through my eyelashes, and I smile as I begin to bob my head up and down, finnicks head gently falling back as he lets out small grunts, his fingers tightly gripping the rock he sits on.

"Snow is gonna be fucking loving this." Finnick groans, his hips bucking slightly so I know he's close, so I begin to bob my head faster and faster.

"I wonder how many people are gonna be rewinding this." He then laughs, before he lets out a quiet moan as his cum fills my mouth and I swallow it without hesitation before I stand up and he stares at me in awe.

"You're amazing, y/n." He gasps before he hands up and pulls the leggings up.

[suavemania]

― ROSE FIELDS.

pairing: leon kennedy x partner!reader summary: leon kissed you during a mission. you confront him, but leon struggles to tell you the truth. that he loves you. words: 861 words, short and sweet. warnings: pretty angsty! leon deals with his trauma & self hate badly. light suicidal ideations. notes: i originally wrote this with my resident evil oc in mind. but i re-wrote this to fit into a reader perspective for tumblr to hopefully enjoy. written from leon's pov in mind. ummm, not super proofread BUT yeah. idk. it just spilled! i have pt. 2 and 3 already written but not sure if theres much interest tisstiss

"Leon, the kiss-"

"Don't."

He knew that the kiss was going to haunt him, that he would never be able to take it back. He placed his lips on yours, feather-like; as if he kissed you too hard you’d crumble under him. That’s all it was, he defended. A moment of weakness. But it was gone all too soon.

He sat on the bed, defeated. His shoulders stiff as he leaned forward, resting his weight on the elbows that were resting on his heavy legs. He felt your eyes burn into him. You were upset, confused, your emotions swirled in your throat, and Leon just sat there, silent. He refused to look at you, he couldn't. 

"Please." you plead.

And the guilt piles in his stomach once more. The canine teeth of his shame sinking in on his shoulders like pure poison, pumping his veins. He felt like he always made you feel like this, always selfishly hinging his feelings like bait, giving you bits of evidence to his true feelings whenever he felt like he would suffocate; whenever his heart burst at the seams. All he could do to defend himself was that this was for your own good, that it's nothing. You shouldn't know, you can't know, it would- it would­- what would it...

Coward.

That's what he thought about himself.

The truth was that Leon was scared of allowing himself to live in rose fields, let alone walk in them. After Raccoon City, he was so used to spending time in the dim and dark. The bright worlds felt foreign, forbidden; like something his mind and body had long forgotten. the light: it felt like a fantasy, you were like a fantasy. But Leon would rather let his heart waste away inside him than chase after a dream. His dream for safety, security, and knowing that his heart would be protected, shielded from his nightmares and guilt.

"Please, just talk to me."

But Leon kept his mouth shut, his head lowered to avoid seeing your silhouette. Had he given in, had he let his mouth confess his true feelings for his partner; he would have simply had to build another cage for his heart to live in: the inevitable fate of heartbreak, disappointing the one he loved the most. Leon had allowed himself to melt into his self-hatred long ago, feeding the insects at his feet and meeting the soil like honey. He would never admit that loudly, though. That would be thoughts he would sink with until the sticky soil met his broken body, his dampened soul melting into the stars. Or so he hoped.

Moments of silence pass, and as you stand in front of him, he notices your hands picking at each other (a bad habit, he knew that about you). For a brief moment, Leon allowed himself to marvel at you, to selfishly gaze at the only thing that mattered in his life. 

You.

The sun, he thought. He bit his tongue even harder, feeling his jaw clench tightly. Don't do this. Don't be so selfish, don't. What makes him think that he could ever pay off his mistakes, his sins that came back to haunt him every night; clawing at his back. The morbid pictures of Raccoon City were carved inside him, deeply imprinted into his body and mind. He couldn’t allow himself to lose another, especially if the person in question was you. 

He had imagined it if you were there that night, if he had lost you to the memory of Raccoon City. In his scenario, he would clammer his hands tightly onto yours. You’ve been infected, sick and weeping as you rot in front of him, your body actively decaying as he tries to fix you, trying to squeeze his power into you. You cried, blaming him for your slow, painful death. But that wasn’t a reality, and it was something he avoided by not telling you the truth, by not admitting that he loved you. Desperately. 

Maybe he was destined to be married to his work and not the person who stood in front of him. Had he thought about it? Absolutely, more than he would like to admit. Whenever he had trouble sleeping at night, his mind would wander into his better fantasies. He had played a ridiculous amount of scenarios in his head, all that would never come true. they would range from holding his partner's hand while they slept, to him taking photos of them as they explored the world together and the beauty that remained. 

“Leon, please-”

You felt your heart in your throat as you begged Leon with desperate eyes to speak, to answer your questions and feelings. You were filled with warmth, and your warmth was all Leon wanted to indulge himself in, to dive into. He wanted to feel you, to allow you to sand down his bones and brain until all he could be was the remains of his love, your love.

And he could just taste it, the sweet taste in his mouth. It was unbearable. He felt himself shred his hearts walls, the sting burning its remains in his chest, and all he could spit out was,

"I love you."

[foxglovepng]

Random Head cannons 2 🌼🥀

Characters: Savanaclaw + Octavinelle

CW: Mentions of first years, Leona accidentally commits arson, Ruggie is a klepto, platonic bromances with first years, little bit of violence in ruggie's, mentions of ED and body hcs in Azuls, mentions of slight nudity in Floyd's.

A/N: These two dorms are relatively small so I combined both into one post. Scarabia and Pomefiore will be condensed into one post as well.

Likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated <3 hope you enjoy!

Leona

MY MAN <3 me and Leona are married Crewel officiated our marriage. (I literally don't know what headcannons to give this man HELP)

I like to think because he is a prince all the staff did everything for him so him changing to NRC and not having any retainers I can imagine he tried cooking once and almost set the dorm on fire.

He had to adjust to doing normal things himself since they were always done for him so I can imagine he STRUGGLED when Ruggie wasn't there (Unless he paid someone to do laundry for him before Ruggie than idk)

Off topic but I saw this one post and it was like "It's okay to commit murder but never okay to hit your wife." yeah that's Leona.

He'd hype his wife up in a fight and when asked he'd be like "I was taking a nap"

(How do you fall asleep in 3 seconds sir teach me your ways it takes me hours to fall asleep)

He can also get high on catnip btw

Ruggie

My favorite klepto freeloader

I can imagine first year Ruggie stealing from a particularly rich person and he goofed up badly Leona stepped in and beat them up and was like Bruh how do you fuck that up I am not helping you the next time you fail.

So *sips tea* even Ruggie has said himself his jaw is strong enough to where he can bite through bone and he can eat the bones too. Ruggie is a little terrifying because is Jaw is insanely strong (Stronger than jack and Leona's combined) so Ruggie could bite someone out of defense to break their arm and his jaw would survive. I think he figured this out once because he had to defend himself either because he got into a fight or someone attacked him and he bite them breaking their bone nearly ripping their arm off.

Between Floyd and Ruggie I'd rather not get bit by either :skull:

Jack

I can imagine first years as a bonding activity go to the gym together from an admiration point Jacks body build is really nice he's a buff guy and he's proud of it so I can imagine he gives tips to the others especially Epel and Deuce.

I also can imagine Ace trying to do a push up or a rep competition (He's not winning). Jack and Sebek end up winning.

Weird head cannon but I can imagine locker room talk between the first years is them admiring Jacks body build in a platonic bro way if anyone else does it Ace is running his mouth on them :skull: "Damn jack you seem to be getter buffer every day" Jack shows no emotion on his face but he's secretly happy to be receiving the compliments

Azul

I like to think he still has a bit of a tummy. It is implied that he has have an ED due to being bullied and an ED is something really sad to think about as much as I don't want to admit it I believe he may have one :(

His parents are divorced and I think he considers his step dad his "real dad". Now I don't know if he gets visitation, but basically in his mind he already replaced his deadbeat dad (I named him Liam because of a tik tok)

Ursula Canonically has a younger sister named Morgana so with this logic I want to say Azul as a half-brother who is an Affair baby. (I say half because biologically if you share a same mother you are technically full, but because Liam is his bio dad and he had another son it's half) and because of Morgana's character I think Azul wants to get to know his brother however I think his brother despises him and refuses too. New oc coming up.

Jade

Moray Eels have shitty vision so Jade wears glasses at night but contacts in the day. Floyd has glasses but chooses not to wear them Jade most likely tries to convince him to wear contacts 50% of the time he doesn't.

My favorite head cannon about Pookie Jade is he grows poisonous flowers and Poisonous flowers are one of my favorite interests. He likes to grow Oleander, Belladonna (Deadly Nightshade), and Azaelea. I feel like if he had a better greenhouse he can grow poisonous shrooms as well. (NOW I'm not saying he kills people, but Mafia theory people)

Floyd

Whenever Octo trio go swimming in a public place or at a beach, lake, etc. Floyd accidentally flashes people and almosst got charged with Public indecency many times so he's been banned from swimming in public.

Shrimps and Moray's have symbiotic relationship so I can imagine if he takes a liking to someone and names them his Shrimpy I bet he'd get real happy if they groomed him via brushing his hair, cleaning him up, etc. He'd give them food and would be their protecter by default in short he'd be down bad.

I wouldn't be surprised if he has ended up in Juvie before and probably has but got bailed out.

[tiredistic]

"BRAT"

Pairing: Regina George x Janis imi'ike

Words: 1622

Content warning: Smut, Absolutely no fluff. Angst, a hint of barking..? manipulation. kinda?? Black mail, Cheating, general mess. Hate sex.. Power dynamic,

Summary: Regina is sleeping with other girls, and Janis deals with her. They end up fucking because they're still madly in love.

A/n: Just this little fic bc writers block is hitting kinda hard.. Idk where this was going I just wanted them to fight then fuck ykwim?

Regina came back to the apartment, slugging in through the door, her mascara smudged and her hair damp from the rain. It was late, yet Janis sat there on the couch, her back to Regina. She knew she was fucked.

"Where did you go?" Janis asked, not bothering to look at the blonde. Janis knew the answer, she just had to ask. Something in her wanted to forget all about it, but how could she? 

"You know where." 

She turned to Regina, capturing her face, sympathy daring to invade her brain. Regina was so fucking hot, gosh Janis hated being mad at her. She had to I mean how can you not? You know your girlfriend is sleeping with other girls, how else would you react!?

"What the fuck were you thinking? You keep throwing our relationship out the window!"

"We never had a relationship! We weren't even a big thing! Gosh I don't know why you get so fucking dramatic." Regina snapped.

"So what are you doing here!? We live together for god's sake. Were we nothing when we fucked on at least every surface in here?"

"Okay we had sex move on! If I want to go to sleep with other people I don't know why it's your problem!" 

"Everything you do is my problem! When you come home drunk and high all the time, who takes care of you!? What about when your back starts acting up??" 

"Oh yes my saviour! Thank you for doing everything for me, shut the fuck up." 

"Why does everything have to be a struggle with you!? Why can't you understand that you're hurting me?" Janis pleaded, "I thought you loved me"

"I never said that I loved you."

"You did! What happened to us!?"

"Oh my gosh, Cady- shit i mean jess-"

"Oh my shit they were so right about you!" Janis complained, "You just screw every girl you see! Fuck you for making me feel like I was something to you"

"You are something to me."

"Act like it."

Regina then grabbed Janis's face, pulling her in for a heated make out session. Janis leaned into the kiss, her hands on Regina's wet shoulders. Regina was making out so intensely, Janis felt the hatred on Regina's tongue. Janis, being the bad bitch she is, doubled the passion, their tongues fighting for dominance.

Their bodies intertwined, then they found themselves in the bedroom. Regina started to strip, peeling the wet clothes off of her cold body. She started down at Janis, teasingly playing with herself, saying things like:

"Lets just fuck and forget all about this." 

and,

"They say make-up sex is the best."

Janis wanted to enjoy it. Janis wanted to feel something again. But right now, she felt like this was just a coy, something to win her back just for Regina's emotional abuse. Gosh was it working. Just looking at Regina doing her usual complaining made her shiver, it was no help that the blonde was dripping wet and naked. She felt herself already getting wet.

"I dunno. I thought the name Jess fell out of your mouth a minute ago... I don't think I can forgive you." Janis played. If this was a game just for Regina to have her fuck buddy back, then she was going to make the best of it.

"I swear baby, Jess was just a toy, your my real deal." She traced circles on the sheet, leaning into Janis, trying to seduce her.  

"Fine. If I'm the real deal.. You'll do as I say." Janis whispered into the blonde's ear, she grabbed her jaw harshly leaving slight red marks on her face, "Get on all fours and bark for me if you're loyal."

Regina paused, she couldn't believe this request. All stages of grief flashed across her face, before she kneeled down on the floor before Janis. She gave Janis the, "are you fucking serious.." look before letting out a pathetic bark,

"arf..?" She sighed, her eyebrows creasing. This was so weird. 

"Is that all you got? Is that how you treat me after fucking cheating on me with multiple girls? Is this your way back into our relationship? a pathetic bark?" Janis scoffed.

The power dynamic was so different then what she was used to, it really shocked her. It also made her so turned on she could feel her cunt dripping down her leg weather she liked it or not.

Janis grabbed Regina by the hair, pushing her head up perfectly to make eye contact. 

"I said bark, bitch."

"Ruff!!"

Janis mused, letting go of Regina's jaw, kissing her gently, almost like a reward.

"By the end of the night, I might just forgive you."

"Why don't you just forgive me now.. it wasn't that deep." 

"I dunno if I'm over you hooking up my close friends, or the whole female population."

"I'm not going to be able to touch you tonight am I?"

"Considering you were just at some hoe's house before coming here.. no."

Regina sighed, getting up from the floor and crawling on the bed, laying on her stomach away from Janis, thinking they were done for the night.

"They never could fuck me like you." the blonde said softly, "Please baby.. let's forget all about that, yeah?"

Janis slapped Regina's ass, leaving a sharp red mark. Regina yipped, turning back to Janis sharply, attempting to roll over.

"what the fuck was that for!?" She hissed, tears forming in the corner of her eyes, and her face flushed from arousal and pain.

"You think I'm done with you? You have hickeys all over your backside!"

"Those bitches.. I told them not to mark me.." She said quietly under her breath, but Janis heard. 

Janis was furious, but she was also glad. She had more things to hold Regina accountable for.

"You let everyone hit your pussy? I never knew Regina George was such a whore." Janis teased, sliding her fingers along the girl's cunt.

"I like to think- I'm very selective." She gasped, her head digging into the pillows as her hips we held down.

"I don't think Hayliee B. is being selective." She slipped a finger in, wiggling it ever so slightly.

"Janis- it wasn't that serious-" She squirmed.

"Maybe Paige G. has something to say about that, hm? Was that serious?" Janis said, slipping her second finger in. 

Regina gripped the cover harshly, letting out a lengthy moan. She tried to grind herself on Janis's fingers but with no avail.

"Jan- Janis that was so long ago.. She doesn't matter, only you do." 

"Awee, is that the sorry excuse you pull out of your ass every time a girl finds out your bullshit? Is that why you came home looking like an absolute mess?" Janis seethed, pumping the fingers into the blonde. 

"maybe its what you told that bitch before coming here!" Then she added a third finger. 

Janis noticed the slight blood on her fingers as she fucked her dumb. Regina was drooling, her eyes rolling back as she whined and cried into the pillows.

"Tell me i'm the best you ever had." 

Regina nodded,

"Say it!" Janis yelled, slapping Regina's ass again.

"Your the best- your the fucking best..I swear" the words spilled out from her mouth in a desperate plea.

Janis sped up, she loved hearing the girl's raspy voice as she helplessly trembled on her fingers.

"'m gonna come! gonna come!" Regina moaned, her eyes shutting and her body starting to tremble.

Then Janis pulled all three of her fingers out of the whining girl.

"What the fuck!?" Regina caught her breath, she turned around to find Janis smirking like a mad man.

"Please Janis, it wasn't even that bad, I don't deserve to be punished like this!" 

"Just how much times did you come for other girls?" Janis teased.

"Not much- they could neve get me off like you" Regina cried.

"Is that so? Get off on my leg then."

"Baby-" 

"Do it, slut"

Regina climbed on her leg, grumbling and complaining to herself on this 'bull' Janis was putting her though. She looked at Janis, who was leaning back, looking at her intently. 

The blonde started slowly grinding on her leg. 

"This better than earlier? This better than the bitch you fucked?" she tilted her head.

"So much better."

"Address me as mistress alright? or I will punish you."

"okay... mistress"

"Bark."

Regina listened, right away this time. She barked loudly and with no hesitation. Her eyes not meeting Janis's once.

The cycle went on for a while. Feverish humping to Janis's leg, while Regina was subjected to whatever the brunette wanted.

"Close?"

"So close-" Regina's breath spiked as her body started to tremble. "Please mistress-"

"You wanna come?"

"Yeah." 

"What are you to me?" 

"I'm just your bitch, fuck.. yours only.." She moaned, her head rolling back. She grabbed Janis's shoulders as an attempt to hold herself up.

"What am I to you?"

"You're my mistress. Janis, you're the only person for me." She puffed out, her hips getting tired from the rutting.

"Is that right? So you're done with all the other side chicks?" Janis questioned, she was having so much fun. 

"YES! Come on Janis- please just let me come! Please, please.. fuck" Regina cried desperate for release. Her hair stuck to her face as her mouth gaped open.

"Come."

Regina let out a long scream as she coated Janis's leg. Her head slumped onto the brunette's shoulder. Her body twitched momentarily as she just had a 28 yard stare in her eyes.

Janis caught the shaking girl, letting her ride out her high.

"Was that good?"

"So good mistress." she whispered, falling asleep on her girlfriend.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 41 - Epilogue]

Warnings: idk but this epilogue gives me that kinda feeling where you feel like something is tugging at your heartstrings and you can’t quite explain if you like that feeling or not you just know that it is there and that you feel breathless because of it

Wordcount: 1.1k

a/n: this is really the end now, isn’t it? well damn. this is it. the end of an era. i feel so sad and empty, but also happy because I shared that journey with you guys :( honestly I love you all so much! Truly, you guys are the best 💜

The door opens. The sound is unfamiliar in his ears. The shine of the torch hurts his eyes, but he gets used to it in seconds.

He startles at the view in front of him, stumbling back.

“How the fuck did you survive?” he flinches at the sound of his raw voice. He can’t remember the last time he used it. It must have been a few days. It hurts to speak.

Yoongi closes the door and puts the torch in its wall mount. He turns to him.

“___ saved me”, he says, closing the distance between him and Namjoon.

Namjoon scoffs, “so she actually did it.”

“She did. I never doubted that she would.”

“I did.”

“I know. Your paranoia made you that way.”

Namjoon tightens his jaw.

Yoongi lifts his hand, revealing the blood bags to Namjoon.

The latter shifts, feeling his stomach churn in hunger.

“Give that to me”, he growls.

“Patience.”

“Give that to me. It’s been weeks.”

“Namjoon, it’s been a year.”

Namjoon looks into Yoongi’s eyes in shock.

“A year?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“It’s going to be Christmas soon. Taehyung has been obsessed with planning the winter fete for days. Jungkook is helping”, he chuckles, “he is so nitpicky, so those two have been bickering a lot, but I’m sure the party will be great in the end. I don’t know, I try to stay out of the planning and just cook once it’s time”, he says in a fond voice.

Namjoon scowls.

“___ and I plan on going on a trip together”, Yoongi says and smiles, “I don’t know where she’ll take me, but she told me to pack warm. I hope it’s gonna be Switzerland. It’s nice in the winter.”

Namjoon blinks in disbelief. Staring at the love in his old friend’s eyes and wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

“She is the best”, Yoongi whispers and lets out a little giggle, lowering his eyes.

Namjoon almost felt sick in shock.

 “That doesn’t matter right now”, Yoongi says, looking back into Namjoon’s eyes. The love in them disappears. He steps closer, making Namjoon lifts his head proudly.

“Drink”, Yoongi says, guiding the nuzzle of the bag to Namjoon’s lips.

Namjoon doesn’t want to accept it at first, but his hunger is too strong. He has to eat. His stomach aches so much.

And so he does.

He accepts the blood Yoongi offers him and he doesn’t understand why Yoongi does.

Yoongi watches him drink.

“Jimin and Tae are happy”, he says, “they’re really happy.”

Namjoon stops drinking. This angers him. The reminder that he lost control over them angers him.

“Drink”, Yoongi insists, forcing the nuzzle back into Namjoon’s mouth, “you have to be strong for what’ll happen.”

Namjoon moves away, straightening up and therefore towering over Yoongi. He furrows his brows in anger. One Yoongi doesn’t retort. Yoongi continues to look happy and content. Namjoon feels angrier because of it.

“Fine. Then we have to make do with the strength you still have”, Yoongi says, dropping the half-empty blood bag on the ground, “I have something for you.”

“I don’t need your presents.”

“You’ll want this one. Trust me. ___ and I worked on it together. She’s really fucking remarkable these days, you know? Even more than she already was.”

The love returns to Yoongi’s eyes and Namjoon feels sick in shock.

“She learned control faster than I did back then. Can you remember how long I struggled with my emotional outbursts?” Yoongi laughs, “that one time I accidentally froze your beer because I laughed too much?”

Namjoon remembers, but he doesn’t want to think about it. Those times make him feel and Namjoon hates feeling.

“Why should I remember times when we were still weak and pathetic humans?” he spits.

“I do”, Yoongi says, looking into his eyes, “I like thinking of those times. They were happy times.”

Namjoon laughs in mocking.

“They were times of weakness.”

“Maybe, but at least we were happy.”

Namjoon blinks again. He feels sick again. He doesn’t understand. Any of it. Why is Yoongi so happy and full of life? It’s pathetic. And scary. Really scary.

“You are weak”, Namjoon says, laughing loudly, “I understand what is happening now.”

He doesn’t understand a thing.

“You have turned weak. Humanity made you weak, you pathetic piece of shit. I won, didn’t I?”

Yoongi looks at him with pity in his eyes. It angers Namjoon because he doesn’t want to be pitied. He wants to be feared.

“You lost Min Yoongi. You lost and once I will escape these cells, I will make sure that you will always remember that emotion makes you weak. I will kill ___ and everyone who has ever been dear to you and I will laugh doing it”, Namjoon smiles menacingly, “you lost.”

“No”, Yoongi says, shaking his head, “no, I didn’t lose.”

“You did! Who will ever take you serious again when you are such a weakling? Nobody will ever fight for you again.”

“No Namjoon. You had people fighting for you because of manipulation and fear. Me? I have people fighting for me because they love me. Trust me, I have already won.”

“No”, Namjoon shakes his head, “no, you haven’t won. You can’t win.”

Yoongi smiles, grabbing Namjoon by the back of his head. Namjoon tenses up, trying to flee fruitlessly.

“You were my best friend once, Joon-ah.  I’m so sorry that I was so scared to lose you”, Yoongi says, running his hand to Namjoon’s cheek.

Namjoon feels sick again. Sick and like shivering. He can’t control it. He is shaking from the overwhelming feeling of being touched.

“I should have given you the chance to escape our hell when you had it, instead of selfishly dragging you with me”, Yoongi whispers, soft eyes racing between Namjoon’s ruby eyes.

Namjoon laughs and while he tried to make it sound mocking and strong, somehow it sounded scared and weak.

“I seriously hope that this will help you find peace”, Yoongi says and pulls a knife out from his pocket.

“What is that?” Namjoon asks, gawking at it with widened eyes.

“My present to you”, Yoongi answers him and places the tip of the blade against Namjoon’s chest, “I hope that it will help you find peace, Joon-ah.”

Namjoon shakes his head, trying to escape but Yoongi was stronger. Like he always has been, Yoongi was stronger. And so Namjoon has to take the blade to his heart, squeezing his eyes shut because it hurts and burns and fills his veins with agony until suddenly it stops.

It doesn’t hurt anymore. He feels warm. The aching hunger stopped gnawing at his stomach and there are voices in his head telling him to write a poem about what just happened.

Namjoon opens his eyes, meeting Yoongi’s gaze.

“Hyung?” he chokes out, eyes filling with tears.

[asmogorna]

Sorry to send another ask so soon (and idk if someones asked this already) but if you have any headcanons for Jon I'd love to hear them!

OK SO im really sorry it took me THIS long to get to this i quite literally.. forgot i had smth in my inbox woopsies. the reason i remembered is cause mootie posted some Spine hcs and i was like "woah"

alsooo im not good at putting my thoughts onto "paper" especially in english so you will have to excuse me

anywho my jon headcanons some sad some random /ref

First of all i think that his relationship with Peter Walter I would be far from close. he would be seen as the type of child who's both "too much mess to take care of" and "strong enough to take care of himself" if that makes sense. Peter did love him as his creation but would openly admit that he's not his proudest one, meanwhile Jon wouldn't feel much connection at all. he sympathized with his creator but only in a way he would with any other human being, there was more gratitude than love

Jon struggles with constant malfunctions and his mechanisms are a mess (partially because he gets himself in trouble all the time), so at one point Peter would get tired of fixing him so frequently, and tell him that he can just "walk some things off". That thought stuck to the bot and he would think of all of his malfunctions as slight inconveniences, i mean, he can still perform so why pay attention to the constant neck pain or powering up struggles ? it just became a habit and he kind of forgot that things like that shouldn't be ignored

After a long while when Peter Walter VI grew up enough to start learning more about how automatons work, Jon would be used as a "lab rat" (not really but its just what he himself called it) for young VI to practice fixing mechanisms. thats pretty much when he heard "Wait this cant be right" about his messed up physical state for the first time in a long while. little Peter didnt get to fix all of the things that were wrong with Jon's body, but he did manage to take care of some of them, which almost surprised Jon with how nice it felt to not hear pieces of broken gears rattle in his head every time he moved (who wouldve thunk)

ok now to more lighthearted stuff !!

Jon actually has a very strong bond with Sam ! He loves watching the mustached man work and sometimes follows him around, just enjoying his company. At first Sam thought that the tone-gold automaton was creepy and uncanny, but grew attached to him and his stupidity (/lh). i also think that Sam would be one of the few Walter workers who dont baby the Jon and actually treat him like they would treat any other robot :3

Also Jon just loves his robot family endlessly. shocker !! im not sure how explain it but i think hes the only one to look at other Walter automatons and go "bro i love them so much" at all times. in his head at least. obviously he teases them and argues with them but he wont think twice before accepting a hug from his siblings (except for Upgrade theyre rivals /j)

Speaking of Upgrade !! They feel the most sibling-ish to me (aside from Rabbit & The Spine) because they constantly poke fun at each other yet they still are willing to give each other help and comfort when needed. She once had to carry him all the way back to the Walter manor because they forgot to take some extra cans of crystal pepsi

Also Upgrade got in an accident once which caused her to have a fractured face for a couple of days, and Jon was there the entire time to comfort her and constantly tell her that shes still very pretty

Unlike with other robots, the food that Jon eats doesnt just fall through his uncovered jaw/run into his boiler or anything like this, instead it just. disappears. once he closes his mouth the food just vanishes into the unknown, yet Jon claims that he enjoys the process of "eating" (nobody knows how it works)

LITTLE GIRLS THAT GO TO SPG SHOWS LOVE HIM !! once the band finishes performing, he constantly gets pulled away by a small giggling pink-ish blob to join their tea party or hula hooping contest. thats why he has quite a knowledge on "girly" themes and educates other automatons on the matter

THATS IT FOR NOW TY FOR READING :3

[nattikay]

fursuit making update: between waiting for supplies and an out-of-town family emergency last week, progress has been slow...but not nonexistent! Here's a messy pile of half-finished paws lol

If all goes well I should have them done sometime this weekend! They wound up taking a ton more fur than I was expecting though, so I might have to order another half yard or so of white...we'll see.

Once the paws are done though, I'll move on to the tail, then the wings I think, then the main body, and last but certainly not least, the head!

...speaking of which, my base came today!! It's the Stuffed Panda Studios kemono feline :) There were two size options and I wasn't sure which one to get, I wound up going with the smaller one since I thought it'd fit better, but was slightly worried that it would end up looking too small in person. Opening it up today and comparing it to my current head, though, it seems to be about the same size, or at least very close to it! Especially when you pat down the fur of the current head to feel where the actual base is under all the fluff. I think once the new head's got the ears and all the fur and stuff on it, the size difference is gonna be minimal. So yay!

I'm planning to do the printed iris method again too, so between that and the enormous iris holes in the eye blanks, this kitty's gonna have INCREDIBLE vision lol. My current head already has pretty good vision as far as fursuits go so this one's bound to be even better!

Gonna be opening up the mouth too, you're supposed to be able to prop it open if you cut along those little lines on the sides (though I'll admit I'm a bit nervous to actually do it because I don't want to accidentally mess it up 😭). Theoretically it should allow you to make a moving jaw too, which is...tempting...when I first became interested in fursuiting I was very enamored with the idea of a moving jaw, but I'm not as gung-ho about it now...still a cool feature for sure but I'm not as attached to the idea as I used to be. My main hangup is that last time I tried to fur a proper moving jaw I really struggled with making it look nice, and idk if I want the feature badly enough to attempt it again if it'll risk a poorer finish. But I'm considering it...we'll see. Gonna be a while till I make it to that part of the process anyways!

[yourchemicallyimbalancedromance]

Checkmate

Ship: Anxceit (Whumpee!Virgil, Whumper!Janus)

CW/TW: (be aware that what I am about to describe is not censored.) graphic themes and descriptions of violence, this includes: forcing someone to relapse with self injury, allusion to past self harm, cutting someone with a knife, mind games/emotional abuse, malnourishment/starvation, talk of weight in numbers, themes of suicide and suicidal ideation (this is pretty detailed, you have been warned.)

Summary: After Virgil joins the light sides, Janus slowly reaches a psychotic break due to abandonment and feelings of betrayal and takes it upon himself to take Virgil back to where he belongs, via kidnapping him and holding him in the dark side of the mind palaces basement, AKA the subconscious.

A/N: this is my first time writing Whump, so If anything feels rushed or misplaced please understand that I am a beginner to writing these kinds of things. I am personally not open to (constructive) criticism—I am really sensitive when it comes to things I’m passionate about 😭—so please, let me learn at my own pace if things do need to be changed around a bit, thank you!<3

(I’m editing this at 12:44 AM because I can’t sleep so, uh, surprise oneshot release I guess? Idk 😭🙏🏻)

———————————————————————

Janus’ eyes glimmered as he stared at the rusty chains that were around Virgil’s wrists, the ones keeping him shackled against the wall of the basement, leaving his arms raised up in the air and his legs crisscrossed beneath him. Virgil’s head had fallen against his chest in defeat after trying to scream into the dark abyss for help again, quickly realizing that his pleas wouldn’t be heard with the muffling of a rag in his mouth.

His lower jaw poked at his collarbones with horrendous uncomfortability from the consequences of malnourishment. He was already relatively small—around 115 pounds or so—and the past few days without food were weighing on him. His bones protruded like knives against his skin. You could see the outline of his collarbones to his shoulder blades through his torn up band tee. His bangs—or what was left of them—had fallen over his eyes, keeping him from seeing Janus whose gaze had shifted to Virgils face, eerily delighted.

Virgil thrashed his head around—though in reality more like hazily bobbed it in circles—trying his hardest to spit out the aforementioned rag that Janus had put there after his lazy attempt at being noticed by the others on the second day of his kidnapping. On the first, Janus had knocked him out hard enough to where he drifted in and out of consciousness, leaving Janus enough time to chain him up without a struggle. Despite the chains, he actually thought he could trust Virgil to not scream for help. He was wrong, hence, the rag.

It had now been five and a half days since his initial kidnapping, and the light sides seemed to have gone off of the deep end…almost. Patton had shut down, preventing himself from feeling any kind of emotion due to the fact that if he even shed one tear, it would lead to a messy and disgusting breakdown. Logan wouldn’t come out of his room for anything at all, as he was drowning himself in as much work as possible, writing and re-writing scripts even if he thought they were already pristine and perfect as was, he needed something to keep himself from flying off the hinges. And Roman was…quiet, withdrawn. He wasn’t his usual ego-centric self anymore, he was timid, almost like a ghost or a shell of who he once was. You could practically call him a people-pleaser. All of them had their own ways of grasping for the tiniest bit of control they had left, and it was shocking to see what came out of it.

But Virgil couldn’t comprehend any of this as Janus updated him on it day by day, Janus’ way of slowly ripping Virgils freshly acquired healthy emotional state apart by using his new “found family” as a means of revenge for the gaping would of abandonment Virgil had left him with. Hell, between Virgils drug induced haze and all the sheer sharp pain searing throughout his body, he could barely comprehend where he was. But one thing stopped him from forgetting his new surroundings completely, and that was Janus.

Janus leaned down and took Virgil’s face in his hands roughly, forcing Virgil to look him in the eyes. Virgil’s eyes were dim and worn out, as if he wasn’t all there, like he was somewhere else in his head. He looked so, so very tired. It was almost thrilling for Janus. Virgil had always been one to get lost in his head as a way of coping with things that were out of his control.

“I think,” Janus hissed, the sound full of no-longer suppressed anger and a slight tinge of fear over the fact that Virgil could have been found had he not noticed his pitiful cries when he did a few days ago, “we should play a game.”

The small lightbulb that hung from a loose wire (seemingly appearing from thin air, there was no way to tell where the lightbulbs origin came from) between them illuminated the human side of Janus’ face harshly, putting the crazed look in his eyes on display for only Virgil to see. It felt like Janus could see into his soul, read his thoughts, know every gritty detail of everything that he had ever done down to the way he breathed whilst doing it, just by staring at him.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed as Janus’ thumb ran over his busted lip. If it weren’t for the rag stuffed in his mouth to muffle his cries for help, he would have bit it clean off. Instead, he let the small amount of fury left in him ignite behind his eyes as he stared into Janus’, not moving any longer. He was confused and scared, and when those things were combined, it usually turned into anger. Rage, even. But It was as if the moment Janus touched him, he froze on impact.

“What do you think?” Janus prompted, hand still firmly on Virgil’s jaw. His voice may have been smooth, but his grasp stayed there to show control.

Janus smiled at the incoherent sounds coming from behind the bloodied rag. He laughed to himself, amused by the struggle. “Ah, I forgot about your little…predicament.” He ribbed, pulling out the soaking rag with ease.

Virgil inhaled harder than he’d ever before, taking in as much oxygen as possible. It had been days since that rag had been placed there; a precaution so that were the search for Thomas’ anxiety to continue and a meeting be pursued once more, they wouldn’t hear much from upstairs. Virgil winced a bit at the memory of Janus’ footsteps quickly echoing throughout the basement and walking up to him. (“tsk, I thought you would’ve been smart enough to know not to scream. Here, let me help you with that.” He had said, hastily shoving a clean rag forcefully into his mouth, rendering Virgil silent; mostly because of fear but also because of shock. He had absolutely no clue why Janus was doing any of this.) It also didn’t help that the dark mind palaces basement was usually hot and stuffy already, which made the struggle to breathe worse; especially if you had to rely on only breathing through your nose, which was broken, meaning the little oxygen he could muster wasn’t enough, leading him to pass out only a few minutes after regaining consciousness, over and over and over again over the past 84 hours.

“Let…go of…me.” Virgil demanded, panting. He struggled against his chains, trying to wriggle his way out of them. His wrists ached as they strained against the cuffs around them.

Janus grabbed Virgils arms firmly, chains rattling, rag dripping blood and saliva down Virgil’s right arm. “No need for that, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you again. Not yet.”

His lips curled upwards slightly at the fear that shocked through Virgil at such simple words. He watched as the hair on Virgil’s arms began to stick up, his arms covered in goosebumps. It was absolutely hilarious to Janus that Virgil had no clue what was coming at any given moment.

Virgil could put on a defiant act all he wanted, but his body would always show how he truly felt: Afraid, Horrified, Helpless.

It was a beautiful sight to see someone at the mercy of his actions considering he had always felt helpless against the others, it was nice to feel in control for once. …And also quite pathetic how hard Virgil tried to stop him from achieving that feeling of powerfulness.

“How about a game of chess?” Janus suggested, throwing the rag to the ground, sounding more demanding than anything else. His nails dug deep into Virgil’s wrists, letting him know that if he didn’t answer correctly, there would be consequences. Though, from all of the times he’d seen Virgils eyes light up from winning against Logan in a Chess match, he knew he would probably say yes anyway. Not that Virgil knew that he knew that.

That sparkle in his eyes. It was almost as if Virgil felt like he could finally do something right.

In Virgils drug addled mind, something…clicked. Chess? Since when did Janus know that he had gotten good at Chess? Unless he was…

his eyes almost brimmed with tears at the thought of such an invasive act,

Watching him.

Despite such a heart dropping realization, Virgil nodded, slowly. Even though it had only been a few days, he was numb to any minor pain Janus inflicted upon him anymore. If it wasn’t worth bleeding, it wasn’t worth focusing on, or atleast that’s the mindset he was set on adapting to get through this. Who knew how long Janus would keep him here? how long this would last? But the pressure against his wrists served as a warning, so he gave Janus the answer he wanted. Or so he thought.

The pressure increased as Janus dug his nails deeper, pricking the pale skin a bit. “You speak when you’re spoken to, Virgil.” he ordered, “Or do I need to remind you?” he asked, nodding towards the blood stained knife on the floor; A reminder of Virgils previous mistakes.

Virgil shook his head frantically, “No, no, you don’t” he begged, mouth still tasting of metal from where he was forced to lick up his own blood from the cuts up and down his arm. “A chess game sounds nice, really.”

Janus hummed, satisfied with Virgils response. “Perfect. Well then, I suppose I should explain the rules.” He dropped Virgil’s arms and let them fall into place with the chains, then summoned a chess set and sat it on the ground next to the knife, eyeing the way Virgil tried to breathe in a rhythmic pattern. He really didn’t think he was getting out of this. How glorious.

“If I win, we pick up where we left off last night,” Janus recited, hinting back to only ten hours ago when he was burying a knife deep into Virgils arm. “If you win, I may dress your wounds properly this time.” he watched Virgil as his eyes closed and snapped back open time and time again, barely taking in anything Janus was saying. He was sleep deprived, Janus was sure of it. He had already planned this out ahead of time, so the results were finally setting in. Janus had dissolved a few…”unknown sleeping pills” into Virgils drink the night before after Janus had his fun with the sharpest knife blade he could find, making sure Virgil was extremely drowsy and paranoid, but not too drowsy and paranoid, because otherwise, what’s the fun in that?

Oh, and the “sleeping pills” were actually Janus’ antipsychotics, but Virgil didn’t need to know that.

He kept Virgil awake for two and a half days straight, slicing open the old wounds on his arms. Turning the faded self inflicted cuts into newer, deeper, non-self inflicted ones. Sometimes he forced Virgil to do it himself as he watched, making him restart if there wasn’t enough blood for his liking. Virgil deserved this for leaving him, so the least he could do was cause a bloody mess.

Janus hoisted Virgil up and carefully unlocked the cuffs on his wrists with a small key from his pocket, holding him as his body gave out against Janus’.

Even through the fog of Virgils mental state, and the amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the exhaustion that crept up on him so suddenly over the past few days, he was cognizant enough to understand that not being able to stand up on his own two feet was humiliating. The weakness and feebleness of his body and state of mind were meant to make him feel humiliated. And unfortunately for him, it was working. Janus was succeeding.

Janus, using this as a moment to exert power over his captive, whispered in his ear. “Bring your all, Virgil.”

Virgil vaguely acknowledged the phrase as something Patton would say to him before every match. Eyes glistening, like a proud father-figure. (“You did great last time Virge! Logan was so mad that you won against him that when you left to go back to your room to listen to that PG-13 music, he used one of those slang words the kids use these days. I can’t remember exactly what it was...I think it started with a C? I don’t know, but I’m so proud of you!” Patton had said, so joyous and amazed. Virgil had given him a half-smile and shrugged it off as Patton just being Patton.)

Virgil almost started sobbing then and there; finally feeling a wave of emotion crash over him other than rage and terror for the first time in what felt like forever, but in actuality had only been a few days. A few tears slipped past him, leaving behind a trembling lip in their wake. He clung to Janus for some sort of sick comfort, Janus being the only thing he had right now, even if he was the one causing all of this.

Janus tensed and snickered, pulling away from Virgil and yanking him to the ground, looking down at him through fiery eyes. “Don’t be so emotional already, we’ve barely even started” he rubbed his arms with his hands as if Virgils mere touch had deemed his upper arms distasteful, “and don’t cling to me like that again, it’s disgusting.”

Virgil wiped at his tears obediently, trying to put on a blank face for his captor. He just wanted to go back home. To sit with Patton and Roman and make homemade hot chocolate while bickering over the appeal of the newest Disney shows. His chest hurt, likely from the drugs and blood loss, but also likely because of his longing for his actual family, not whatever this was. Whatever it used to be.

Janus sat down on the opposite side of the board, and slowly removed his gloves, placing them next to him on top of each other and started setting up the pieces.

“Let the game begin.” He stated after a few moments had passed and the board had been properly set up, prompting Virgil to move his first piece.

Virgil reached out reluctantly, placing one of the pieces further on the checkered board. Almost knocking it over as he pulled his hand away as fast as he could, not wanting to be close to Janus.

Janus smirked, noticing this, as he placed one of his pieces further on the board aswell. Deep down, he was hurt by Virgils need to stay as a far as possible, however. Not that it mattered, he could always punish Virgil for that little stunt of emotion later down the line.

This back and forth continued for at least twenty-five minutes, before Virgil could feel the walls closing in around him. He looked at the board in desperation, praying to God that maybe, just maybe if he stared long enough the pieces would maneuver themselves to where he could win.

It didn’t happen.

Janus had him stuck, unable to move without getting defeated. In this sick game, and in real life. It was as if Janus was making a mockery of his own doings.

Virgil moved the piece on the board with a shakey hand, trembling from the dread of what he knew was to come, and looked up at Janus; fear evident in his eyes.

Janus took a breath and moved his piece in front of Virgils quickly, as if he had been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“Checkmate, Virge.”

Virgil stared at the board, filled with shame and regret. He used to be a pro at Chess, and now he was watered down to this. He couldn’t meet Janus’ burning gaze as he stared at him from across the board. Any glint of hope for his future here that he had behind his eyes had been crushed and faded away completely. He was certain that he was going to die here before Patton or any of the others found him. And if he didn’t die, it would become so bad that he would beg Janus to make him do it to get it over with.

Janus got up and pulled Virgil to his feet, clasping the cuffs around his wrists again, not willing to waste any time, taking notice of the newfound compliance.

Janus laughed a little as he picked up the knife, running a finger over the blade. “You know, I really thought you would have been good at that,” he placed the base of the blade on Virgil’s arm and began to drag it agonizingly slow. “I guess it just goes to show that you really are incompetent.”

He watched the blood drip down Virgils forearm, “what a shame, really. You probably would have gone on to be a real good player,” he teased, “probably even better than Logan. I mean I saw the way that blood vessel in his head almost popped from stress and frustration during your match a week or so ago.”

Janus watched as Virgil grit his teeth so hard he thought he would break them from trying not to scream. The confession and the pain were almost too much emotional and psychical trauma for Virgil to bear.

Janus ran a finger over the fresh cuts, looking up at Virgil with nothing but malice in his eyes. “Too bad you’re stuck here now, you really could have been something.”

“Please…please, I’ll do anything, please just make it stop!!” Virgil whimpered, actually thrashing now, a drastic difference from what he had meant to do earlier. He couldn’t handle it anymore, it was all starting to dawn on him. He wasn’t getting out of here. He wasn’t getting out.

“Keep begging, it’s not like I’m going to stop. You’re selfish, that’s all you are. You think you can leave me to pick up the pieces of your abandonment and expect not to face the consequences? I don’t think so.” Janus threatened, slapping Virgil’s arm, causing stinging pain to shoot its way through him. He took the knife back to Virgils skin, digging deeper into the wounds he already created, using his rage as a source to block out the cries of his former best friend. Virgil used to be like a brother to him, but none of that mattered now. This was Virgils fault, he chose this.

Virgil’s hands curled into loose fists with the little energy he had left within himself, desperately trying to wrap his head around Janus’ reasoning but ultimately failing to be able to think of anything due to the hot and awful pain that washed upon him every few seconds. That was why Janus was doing this? His acceptance? He let out animalistic sobs every time the blade met his flesh. None of it made sense. His head hurt and all he wanted was to drop to his knees and bleed out, leaving himself a cold shell of a person. Anything but this. Anything but this. As much as he loved the others, he wanted anything but this.

Eventually, Janus dropped the knife on the floor, blood splattering in every direction. He was tired, and Virgil was beginning to pass out which meant that the fun wouldn’t be able to last any longer. After all, it’s no fun torturing someone when you can’t see the outcome of your work.

He flicked his wrist and summoned a small baggie of crushed up antipsychotic medication and a glass of water, carefully pouring it into the glass in front of his captive. It didn’t matter if Virgil saw what he was doing, what could he do about it? Absolutely nothing.

“Open your mouth.” He instructed sternly. Virgil listened and he tilted the glass back with precision, making sure no droplets of water fell down Virgils face and on to the ground.

Janus set the glass down beside him, “don’t say I never did anything for you” he mumbled, turning on his heel and heading back upstairs to the commons as if nothing had happened.

Janus’ footsteps slowly faded and a door opened. Virgil could hear Remus cackling in the distance, and even though he didn’t exactly know what was so funny, it was presumable that it was about the state of his family. The others were falling apart with the lack of him being around, or that was at least as far as he knew with the “help” of Janus.

Virgil let his legs give out from underneath him and curled in on himself as best he could, searching for the warmth of his own body heat, not necessarily because he was cold, but because he was desperate to feel the warmth of a comforting presence, even if that meant it had to be himself.

He tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his arms by thinking of Patton. Sweet, tender and kind, Patton. Patton who was always there when he had night terrors and was screaming for help, crawling into Virgils bed and cradling him gently until he was conscious enough to know what had happened, and then staying until he fell back asleep. Patton who always let him hold on to his shoulders when the panic attacks got so bad he couldn’t stand upright because he was so dizzy. Patton who always had a cheesy dad joke no matter the severity of the situation. Patton.

It hurt more than any of the psychical pain combined to miss him. He would rather die right now than miss such a sweet soul. If Patton were here, he would have bandaged him up so gently he would have barely even felt it, while humming softly to distract Virgil from the fear and uncertainty burrowing deep in his stomach.

Tears fell down his face as his eyelids finally fluttered close, not being disturbed by a jarring malicious voice ready for revenge. He could finally sleep.

Though, how do you sleep peacefully knowing you’ll probably never get out of a nightmare?

[overheaven]

final update for now: so gf is racing home after work to take me to bring my computer to a repair shop before they close just to see what’s wrong, i try to set up a guest account on it so my files will be extra safe (backed them up & removed sensitive info but yknow you can never be too careful about privacy) and my microsoft vs local accounts got wack as hell, had to troubleshoot passwords and admins and a whole bunch of bullshit but that’s fixed now and you know what’s the worst thing about this?

the screen started working again

i was already texting her like “hey i don’t think i can do this today, just come in when you get here ‘cause i’m still in crisis mode about it all and i don’t think i could even begin to tell them what’s wrong if the screen started working again” and just. like it fixed itself and now i’m like sitting here felling drained and hollow, it’s not relief it’s just shame and bitter humor about having a fucking silent meltdown about what apparently amounted to a non-issue.

idk more rambling below about this whole thing cause it’s been a wild couple of days and i’m at some sort of breaking point, but the TL;DR is:

i mean how long it will stay a non-issue is. hm. but for now i’m just. i guess i sit here contemplating how much subtle suffering i need to endure in order to feel justified in upgrading this device (which is a necessity and big part of my life) or getting it professionally repaired etc etc. or even aside from justification, how do i even prepare to get that done? i don’t know how to explain the whimsical contraption that is my computer if i were to bring it in and have everything be in more or less working order aside from a couple inconveniences (the trackpad has been busted since day 1 which is another issue with this particular model iirc but it doesn’t bother me cause i use a mouse anyways, i had to replace the keyboard and i think i was sent the wrong one because the keys aren’t quite the same & some don’t work but again i’ve learned to live with it).

it’s just funny how this whole thing mirrors my struggles with keeping my own body and self in working order like. so many little things are wrong with my computer, but it still works pretty good more or less. do i just bring it in and flop it onto the counter and say “yeah it’s a bit of a goofy old jalopy and you’d laugh if i tell you all the little silly things that are wrong with it so can you just crack it open and tune it all up?” ?????

my body and my mind are the exact same, i’m starting therapy soon (as mentioned above i was supposed to start yesterday) and i’ve been watching youtube videos and reading reddit threads about what to expect from therapy (i’ve been to a few sessions as a kid but never anything substantial for Reasons that i hope would be addressed in said therapy) and yknow one of the things you can expect at your first appointment is talking about goals, history, etc. i don’t know my personal history, there are so many things wrong that i don’t know what my goals are. same for physical health like there are just so many aches and issues but i don’t know how to go about pinpointing what they all are, much less what i could tell a doctor. i’m literally always uncomfortable if not actively in pain so it’s like. “hurting” is baseline. “how are you today?” “i’m okay” = my jaw probably hurts from my tics and i’m picking my nails and my back is aching and i probably am having some lowkey tennis elbow pain and my teeth hurt and i need a new eye exam and i haven’t been able to fall asleep til 5 AM and i don’t get out of bed til 1 or 2 PM and i’m going bald and i still get mouth sores but yknow that’s all normal. i’m still “running” fine. good, even. i’m drawing and writing. i’m interviewing for jobs. i’m running fine.

i’ve been neglected for far too long and it’s just. i don’t know how to start fixing myself now that my eyes have been opened a little more and i’m beginning to realize hey maybe you don’t have to suffer these little owwies every day. maybe your little owwies are actually big pains and you’ve just been taught to minimize them behind masking and toughing it out. maybe you deserve to be pain free instead of just ignoring it all.

god. yeah. it is what it is i guess.

my laptop screen is finally just broken! i feel like i should start sobbing but i can’t so i’m just sitting here trembling! girl help!!!

[ultralightpoe]

Mistaken Hatred - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: This was a request, but I might have accidentally deleted it! If this was something you requested sorry for the lateness! Idk what happened 

Word Count: 4748

Warnings: angst, aemond is a loud-mouthed asshole 

Description: Aemond is sure that you are enemies and stuck in a marriage of convenience 

Aemond could remember the days when you hadn’t hated him. 

You had both been young, far too young to understand the war brewing between your mothers or recognize any of the vile things that had been said. He could still smell the oils in your hair from all the times your would wrap your arms around him, still taste the strawberries he would steal from you as you both lazed under the weirwood tree together. 

He remembers his heart beating faster at every smile you would give him. 

But something had changed in the both of you somewhere along the way, and though he could not pinpoint a certain moment you became enemies he knew for a fact that he hated you just as much as you hated him.  

“Tell me, bastard, how does it feel knowing you will never live up to anything?” He sneered, watching as your eyes narrowed in on him. 

“Are you sure you even know who you are speaking to? Can you see out of that rock?” You snap back, giving a false cringe to his eye that makes him blush. “Aemond…… It’s me, it’s Y/n. You are speaking to Lady Y/n.”

  His jaw tenses in anger as you continue to tease him, rolling his eye. “I do still believe that you and your brothers owe me an eye….”

“An eye for an eye? What’s next? You take your mothers balls?” You laugh, walking past him in your riding leathers, making sure to hit him with your hair as you throw it over your shoulder. “Tell me how that goes will you? Always enjoyed watching you cry.” 

The day his father broke the news of the peace treaty Aemond could feel nothing but relief. A tension released as he had the greens and the blacks forge the peace treaty. His half sister, Rhaenyra, would get the throne and after her it would pass to her son. 

But there were things needed to ensure the alliance lasted past his fathers dying wish, a marriage for example. 

His brother had already been married of to his poor older sister, Aemond only feeling pity for his closest friend as she struggled to survive. His nephews had been arranged to marry the Velayron girls to ensure that peace, and his baby brother Daeron would still be in Olde Town until the end of summer. That left him…….and you. 

When Viserys made the announcement Aemond had already been looking to you, waiting with baited breath for you to argue. A wave of embarrassment already clinging to his being at the thought of you outright denying him. 

Not that he cared, you were a constant thorn in his side. 

“Tell me, do people ever make eye contact when they speak to you?” You snipe, sitting across from him at the septas library, smirking. “Would you feel better if I went cross eyed?”

“I would feel better if you left. Or if you and your siblings were finally taken from the world. ” He sighs, refusing to look up from the book he had grabbed for the day. “You have a terrible habit of absorbing all the energy and patience of a room.”

“Good to know I have such a large effect on you.” You laugh, snatching the book before he could process what you were doing. “Thank you.”

“I was reading that you bastard-”

“Oh here we go with the bastard- Aemond, darling, I look exactly like my mother. You have no evidence.” You stick out your tongue before moving to stand.

“Give the book back!” He sneers, launching for it until you hit his forehead with it lightly.

“I need it, you ghost. Go find a romance somewhere.” 

“I was reading it-” “I take precedence-”

“No you absolutely do not-”

“I do indeed, my matter is more important than yours.” You say it bluntly, with such a straight face that Aemond finds himself intrigued.

“What do you need it for?”

“I need it to impress a boy.” You smile, moving to leave. 

Aemond clenches his fist as an unknown feeling settles in his gut, watching you leave with his book. 

You hadn’t looked at him that day, but you hadn’t argued either. You merely stared at the floor in quiet surrender that had his jaw clenching. 

You were acting sad when it was him that was being thrown up like a fucking pawn? Would it really be so bad to be married to him?

Rhaenrya and his mother met in the middle of the throne room, hugging softly as all the children watched, you refusing to look up while you held your youngest brothers hand tightly. 

Jace and Luke stood on either side of you while Joffrey stood right by Daemon, who was holding young Aegon to his chest. 

“May our families join as one, once more.” Viserys smiles, the cue taken soon enough as everyone began to mingle. 

“Let us see the future lovers closer together!” The elder Aegon slurs, snatching your shoulder to drag you closer to Aemond. 

He takes a moment to slap his brothers hand away from your shoulder, shoving him back and mumbling “Don’t ruin this peace treaty Aegon.”

When he turned to speak with you it seemed you already disappeared, spotting you in the hallway with your stepfather Daemon arguing. 

The blistering heat seeped into his skin as his riding leathers seemed heavier with each step he took, hair beginning to mat to his neck. 

Aegons 18th name day was to be celebrated by a tourney, every knight lord and noble of the realm having traveled to compete or attend, including all the beautiful females.

Not that the last fact would ever matter to Aemond, who had been completely ignored by every female since he had his eye carved out as a boy. All except one, one constant pain in his side. 

“Lord Baratheon, this is my-.....this is Prince Aemond.” You correct yourself, a sweet smile laced on your features as you keep a hand rested in the lords elbow. 

“Prince Aemond! A pleasure to meet you!” The lord smiles, bowing slightly, giving Aemond the chance of making quick eye contact with you before the lord stands to his full height once more. 

“We’ve met…. My 13th name day, 3 years ago.” He says tightly, hands crossed behind his back as he turns to look away from the both of you.

“Right… the um…. The year that you….”

“The year my nephews tore out my nephew and you and your charming followers through dirt in it on my own name day?” He reminds, turning just in time to see a look of shock cross your features. You obviously hadn’t know, having been dragged back home to Dragonstone for your parents to marry in secret. 

“I…. must have been far too into the ale My Prince.” The lord lies, trying not to look irritated or embarrassed. “Lady Y/n was allowing me to escort her to the-”

“Princess Y/n.” Aemond reminds, finally looking to the lord. “Bastard or not her mother is the heir.”

“Aemond-” You snap, turning to the boy in a panic as Aemond laughs. “My lord, I do apologize-”

“So it’s true? You’re a bastard?” The boy snaps, eyes narrowed as he looks down at you. For a second Aemond gets a rush of irritation looking at how the lord was using his height as a weapon against you, taking a second to step between you two.

“I- Lord Baratheon, the words my uncle speaks come from anger and not truth- you must believe me.” You try to ease the situation and the lord gives you a skeptical look. “Let us get back to our walk, you were just telling me about the difference between dear and elk?” 

“Is that why you picked the book up the other day? To try and hide your half title from any suitor?” Aemond snaps, finally scaring off the other male as you whip to look at him. 

“That was not funny-”

“Shouldn’t you be sitting with the rest of your fucking bastard family?”

“What is wrong with you today?” You snap, turning to walk away but he follows.

“You are my problem, walking around just like your mother had.”

“What does that mean?” You whip around to glare, a smirk crossing his features as he finally pinpoints how to irritate you.

“It means you and your mother are whore-” A hand snaps across his face making his head whip back, a shocked look taking over. “Wha-”

“I suggest you fix your tone and implications the next time I see you. Prince.” You snap, storming off. 

You don’t make any eye contact at the wedding. 

Not when you slice your hand open as well as his, not when he rubs his bloody thumb over your forehead and you do the same to him. 

Aemond can’t do anything but stare. 

You had worn one of the finest gowns in westeros, hand stitched by 4 people to fully celebrate the union between blacks and greens. Your hair had been done into one of the most intricate braids he had ever seen, pearls and diamonds braided in. 

He mutters the respective words of the Targaryen wedding tradition before you do the same, leaning to touch your nose against his as told, finally looking at him. His heart stops in his chest as he attempts an easy smile. You ignore it. 

You sit by him at the feast, smiling at all the guests that had come to congratulate you both on the union and peace treaty. 

Though when once a particular lord comes up he feels your entire being tense as a faint recognition travels through him. 

“I congratulate the two on a blessed union, and I hope them well in the children department.” He mutters, head bowing as Aemond nods, trying to remember where he had seen the man. “Let us hope that Y/n carries the bastard blood to save her from the Targaryen curses with pregnancy.”

The room silenced almost instantly, everyone holding their breath as Aemond finally recognized the man in front of him. It was the lord from a couple years back, the one he had mocked your legitimacy to. 

“Hold your tongue Lord Baratheon-” His father snaps, casting a look to Rhaenyra who was holding her own stomach. 

Targaryen pregnancies were a curse indeed, for his fathers first wife had gone through multiple and the only one to come was Rhaenyra herself. 

“I wouldn’t worry about any future heirs , Lord Baratheon, it’s not my style.” Aemonds entire tone is tart, casting a side look to see you clenching your fist and biting your lip. 

You must have been embarrassed from the bastard comment the lord made, and for the very thought of being bred like a horse. Aemond hated the thought himself, he would not be providing an heir unless you yourself asked for one.

The lord is dismissed with a group of guards under the pretense of them taking him home, but Aemond knew that Daemon had already ordered he wasn’t to leave the grounds alive. The second the group disappears through the doors the festivities begin again and Aemond finds himself standing up when you do.

“Did you want to dance-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you slap his outstretched hand away. 

“I’m not feeling well. I shall be going to my chambers.” You reply, moving to walk past him but he stops you with a hand on your elbow. 

“People will talk-”

“Oh please. They have been fed enough gossip to last them months. Lord Baratheon implying that I am a bastard in front of the court and my new husband stating I was not to his taste? I’ve been made a laughing stock tonig-”

“I did not say you were not to my taste. I meant forcing an heir was not to my taste.” He rushes out, getting extremely defensive without meaning to. “When did you become so weak? I can remember multiple times where your tongue was as silver as a snake.”

“Or maybe I just finally realized that you were being serious all those times.” You seethe, hitting his shoulder. 

“And you weren’t?” He is absolutely dumbfounded. You two had been enemies for years? What could you mean you weren’t serious?

“I was a fool who thought we were jesting. And I soon realized that you were just a monster.” You reply cooly, finally making your escape and leaving Aemond at your wedding. 

“Don’t tell me, little princling, you don’t have any friends?” You giggle, coming around the thick tree to see Aemond hiding and reading. 

His eyebrows knot together as a scowl takes over, turning to you. “I hadn’t realized the brothel would be moving into the keep….. Please tell me they put your rooms far away from mine. Only the gods know what I could catch within dragon space of you.” 

“Mmmm. Thinking of ways to catch something are you? Want to ride-”

“What do you need, bastard?” He snaps, a heat traveling his skin as he watches something twinge in your features. 

“I was hoping we could discuss the other day,” You say, tone sounding all too serious. “When I slappe-”

“I remember quite well.” He interrupts, slamming the book shut. The same book you had stolen him a mere 2 weeks before. 

“It was a terrible reaction, I am aware. I just- well you see…. I was trying to impress Lord Baratheon for my moth-”

“Is there a reason I should care?”

“I’m trying to explain why I am upset, Aemond. So that I may apologize correctly” You sigh, looking completely puzzled. “I feel we crossed a line the other day and I had no idea-”

“Crossed a line? How so? It is well within my right to call a whore when I see one.” He snaps, standing so he wasn’t looking up at you. The sunlight perfectly framed your figure as he moved closer, waiting for your retaliation that never came. “What? Don’t you want to make a comment? Something humorous to go and laugh at with your lowlife wasteful siblings.”

“Watch your tongue-”

“Or what?” He snaps, stepping closer. You instantly shove him back with a hurt look. 

“You……this entire time you meant everything….” You looked absolutely torn, some of your hair falling out of your braid as you watch him. “I… oh how foolish I have been.”

You are storming off then, hands clenched as you march past Aegon and go to where your eldest brother waits for you. 

“RUN AND CRY TO YOUR FAMILY THEN! MAYBE YOU CAN TELL YOUR REAL FATHER ALL ABOUT IT SOON!” 

Jace whips around to charge at him and Aegon but you catch your brothers arm, pulling him harshly and muttering something under your breath before you both disappear from sight.

Before Aegon can make a snappy comment Aemond storms off, leaving the book under the tree.

Aemond doesn’t see you for three days after the wedding, but he doesn’t mind that, his brain is still trying to wrap around the confusion of your words. 

What had you mean that you thought it was all a jest, had you been mocking him for a reaction all those years? Had you not been trying to fight him? 

“Prince Aemond, Princess Y/n has sent a-” He snatches the note from the pageboy instantly, unraveling it to read the contents inside. 

‘Heading to Dragonstone to help with the rest of my mothers pregnancy. I will send word before I return.’

“Has she left already?” He asks, standing to get to the door and find your chambers, needing to talk to you before you left. Just to sort some of his thoughts out. 

“She took flight this morn, with her brothers, to follow their Princess Rhaenrya back home.” The page explains. “Left that in the room, maids brought it to me.”

A sigh escapes Aemond as he nods, heading out of the room to find one of his own siblings. He would send a raven asking for a word later, right now he needed to finalize some of the peace treaties issues. 

He was ashamed to admit he sat in the library and waited for you to come in just as you always did and bother him. He waited to start a fight with you, already thinking of insults that would keep up with your own. 

He pretended to read the history book he had snatched that morning as he listened for the door, trying not to seem too excited when he heard it groan. 

It had been a week since the day under the weirwood tree, and neither of you had gone this long without mocking the other. He was beginning to get an anxious feeling. 

“Prince Aemond-” His head snaps up when he realizes it’s not you, angry that it wasn’t your smug voice about to mock him. “Your mother has requested your presence-”

“Tell her I am busy.” He says quickly, turning to the door to make sure you don;t enter without him noticing. 

“She says that she will not let you hide in here all day. She says I must take you to her or the trai-”

“Fine.” He sighs, grabbing his sword and storming out. 

He sees a dash of y/h/c and straightens as he leaves, disappointment filling him when it was just a trick of light. 

Your mother had lost the babe, naming the child Aemma in honor of her own mother, and you had sent word that you would be staying to care for your mother in her time of need. 

That hadn’t annoyed Aemond, what had annoyed him was that you sent word to his mother and not he. 

“Page?” He calls the young boy as his mother stares. “Are you sure I haven’t received any news from dragonsto-”

“Just the one raven My lord. I accepted it myself.” The page says, bowing. Aemond feels a wave of dread and embarrassment fill him as he turns back to his mother. 

“Are my ravens not reaching there?” 

“As far as I am aware they are, dearest.” Alicent sighs, standing to rub his cheek.

“Please let my lady wife know I am patiently waiting to hear from her.” He sighs, teeth rubbing together as he leaves the room. 

“Is there any word on Lady Y/n?” Aemond asks one of the guards, trying to seem casual. “I have not seen her around the keep in a couple days.”

“Lady Y/n has traveled with her father to grab a dragon egg for her future sibling,” The guard explains. Aemond feels a wave of relief at the fact that you had been gone and not avoiding him. That is until, “They left this morning, Prince.”

“Why did she go at all?” 

“Princess Rhaenrya is due to labor soon and they were hoping her dragon would help find the eggs.” 

Rhaenrya was about to have her first child with Daemon, and as Targaryen tradition held the babe would get an egg, the only issue was the lack of eggs. 

There had been a dragon on the island eating all the unhatched eggs, the people beginning to call him Cannibal. 

“Will you notify me when they return? I believe she has a book of mine-”

“It is to my understanding Prince, that Lady Y/n will be staying at Dragonstone with the rest of her family.”

Aemond is at a loss for words, storming off. 

Another week had passed and Aemond had debated flying out to Dragonstone himself and demanding answers, but he quickly remembers that this is a marriage of convenience to you and he does not wish to look like a fool. 

King Viserys dies, and although he is minorly upset, Aemond is delighted that you will have to come back to Kings Landing. 

He waits for your dragon to land, watching you closely as you dismount the dragon and climb down the ladder you had, eyes meeting his instantly. 

He is ashamed to admit that his heart beat wildly as you made your way closer, wearing black for mourning. 

“I am sorry for your loss, Husband.” You say lowly, moving to walk by him but he turns to keep walking with you. 

“As I am yours, Wife.” He mumbles, trying to keep up with your quick pace. “I have not heard from you, I had assumed you to be dead.”

“I do know you wish me to see my father, how very thoughtful you have always been.” You mutter, words sounding venomous as you trail along the courtyard. 

“I was hoping we could discuss-” He could not understand why he was so nervous. What was freaking him out so much? “I must go and attend to my ladies at court, much to do before my mother's coronation.” You interrupt, strutting off and leaving him behind. 

He barely sees you at your mothers coronation, for you were standing with the rest of your siblings to watch closer than the rest. 

While you were watching your mother with wide eyes, Aemond could not drag his eyes away from you. 

His chest ached as he prayed for a chance to talk to you, just for a moment. 

You’re gone by daylight, Aemond asking for you and your father telling him you were caring for an issue left on Dragonstone. 

He is agitated at the news but doesn’t have time to think before Rhaenyra is asking him to fly to Winterfell. “Lord Stark is the final signature needed to back my coronation, I need a good rider to get there and back.”

“After that may I have your permission to head to Dragonstone.” He snaps, trying to keep his cool as Daemons head whips to look at him. “I wish to see my wife and I am aware that Dragonstone is not-”

“You are permitted.” Rhaenyra smiles, patting his shoulder before moving to where his mother stood. 

He does as told, heading to Winterfell on Vhagar to receive the final signature. He stays there for a week as they go over all the final details before a messenger races in, running straight for Aemond.

He doesn’t say anything as he tears it open, reading the contents inside over and over before apologizing to Lord Cregon and rushing for Vhagar. 

It takes nearly 2 days of flying before he gets to you at dragonstone. Landing Vhagar and jumping down from the saddle while racing behind a guard to get to you. 

He doesn’t waste time thanking the guard or waiting to be announced as he burst into the room, making you jump from where you are sat in a bed. 

“Aemond? You should be in Winter-”You begin to yell, moving to sit up. He crosses the room in three strides, softly pushing you back down as you look at him skeptically. 

“I received word that you and your dragon had been hurt.” He states, stepping back to check all the injuries while keeping his hands on your shoulders. “There had been a wild dragon?”

“I was merely trying to protect a batch of eggs.” You explain, trying to remove his hand. “It was fine, you should not have been called-”

“I should not have been summoned after my wife was nearly killed?” He snaps, confusion littering his face as he spots a familiar book on the nightstand. “I knew you stole it.”

“Did you honestly fly out here to accuse me of stealing a book?” You snipe, reaching for it before he can grab it. But you were slow from the injuries and he was already lunging for it. 

“I flew out here because I was terrified you would die-”

“And you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to celebrate it properly?”

“I was afraid that you would die. No snide comments were going to follow that sentence.” He states bluntly, sitting on the edge of the bed to peer into the book. “It’s still so odd to me that you picked this book to impress Lord Baratheon-”

“You think I took that book to impress that trout-faced ass?” You laugh incredusly, still looking nervous at his presence. “I took it to impress you.”

His head snaps up with a blush, smiling softly. “You took the book to impress me?”

“A terrible thought out plan considering I hadn’t quite realized you actually hated me. Did you ever consider that I had been talking you up to Lord Baratheon that day?” You mumble, looking away and messing with the cover of the bed. 

He lets silence consume you both as he flips through the book, stopping when he comes across sketches of himself, all extremely detailed. “D-did you draw these?”

“Awhile ago, yes.” You whisper. “The septa found the book and returned it to me that day-”

“You had been joking all those years, and I had been an ass.” He speaks, voice tight at the truth, watching your face.

“I never meant to offend you-”

“But I had. I had always meant to offend you while you were merely thinking of me as a friend. A friend that you thought was pretty enough to draw.” He states, fingers tracing over one of the sketches. “That entire time I had been a monster.”

“Aemond-”

“That’s why you avoid me now? Because I had acted that way?”

“I figured you’d still hate me.” You sigh, wincing in pain as you try to sit up. Within moments he has one arm wrapped around you torso for support, the other sitting in between your neck and shoulder. 

“How foolish and terrified I have been….”

“You should be in Winter-” You don’t get to finish your words, his lips coming to meet yours soft and slowly. 

You hesitate for a moment before kissing back, hands moving to his hair. 

“I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry.” He whispers in short moments when you both try to catch your breath before lunging back in for another kiss. “I’ve wasted so much time.”

“Aemond…” You breathe out as he pulls you closer, kissing you like a man possessed. He moves you gently so that he his kneeling between your legs and you are resting on the pillows, kissing your jaw with content. 

“I’m sorry..”

“So am I.” You mumble but he shakes his head. 

“I’m a fool. All this time I have wasted trying to hate you and you were merely reaching a playful hand out.” He sighs, kissing down your neck. “Forgive me, please princess, forgive your foolish husband.”

“Forgiven.” You whisper, pulling him back up softly. “It is all forgiven.”

“I do not wish for this to be a marriage of convenience. I wish for you, it’s all I have ever wished for whether I realized it or not. Please- Give me a chance-”

“Accepted.” You smile, pulling him closer and tugging him to kiss you. “You have been granted one more chance.”

He smiles, leaning down and dragging his own lips against yours in a possessive kiss, eye glinting in the soft light. 

Once you are healed he prepares Vhagar, watching you mount your own dragon carefully.

“You feel even the slightest twinge of pain and we head back-”

“Instantly. I know. You worry wart.” You laugh, hair blowing in the wind as he looks at you with a raised brow. “Gonna keep AN EYE on me, Lover boy?”

“Keep taunting all you want…..” He smiles, “You’ll pay for it all tonight, you old maid.”

“Old maid?!” You laugh. “That makes you a corpse!”

You take flight, leaving him to curse and push Vhagar to go, racing through the skies as you begin to track the wild dragon Cannibal. 

It wouldn’t be long before he would need to find a dragon egg for his child, and he needed to make sure there was an egg to procure.

“Come on grandpa! You’re slowing down!” You laugh, looking back to stick your tongue out at him. 

It takes him a moment to catch his breath as he smiles at you, and to think that he missed all of this by being a twit. But he doesn’t apologize again, knowing how you’ve come to hate it, instead he pushed Vhagar faster and calls “Loser won’t be allowed to finish tonight!”

You looked shocked for a moment before he has his dragon sweeping under yours and taking lead. “But considering how much I love you, dearest wife, I will consider giving you at least one orgasm.” 

He laughs and flies off, leaving you desperate to catch up.

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND WILL BEGIN BEING POSTED ON MONDAYS)

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[judeswhore]

What about there being a small room on the highest floor of the stadium where you have a view of the pitch and just fucks you from behind and goes “how does it feel to be fucked by a world champion, huh?”

full view - mason mount

this is like two weeks or something after the cwc final, back a the bridge but mason is still obviously not playing but for the sake of hot sex his ankle is like almost fully healed. idk how i feel abt this but we move ig

warnings: smut, 18+, hair pulling, choking, spanking, dirty talk, oral (m) receiving, spitting, unprotected sex, sort of? public sex, i think that’s it?

"Anyone can see you, y'know? If they just looked up." Mason's words were paired with an extra harsh thrust of his hips and you gagged slightly around his cock, nails sinking into the skin of his thighs. Your lashes fluttered when you looked up at him and he couldn't hold back his low moan, his fingers tightening in your hair as he held himself at the back of your throat. His other hand was gripping the table for support, knuckles white and you knew he was struggling with trying not to cum, the line between his brows becoming deeper.

"One glance and thousands of people could see you choking on my dick, Y/N. Look at you," He hummed softly as you slowly pulled your mouth from him, your tongue grazing along the underside of his cock. You pouted your lips and dragged them down the length of him, your gaze never once wavering from his as you wrapped your fingers around him and settled on a much quicker pace. "Ruined your make up already, he's gonna know what you were doing."

Mason's tone was taunting and you replied with a quick tightening of your fingers around his dick, his hand tugging painfully at your hair in response. "Careful, sweetheart, I can always leave you here to deal with yourself if you don't behave."

"Stop talking about him then." Your lips left Mason's skin and within seconds he was pulling you up from the floor, his thumb swiping along your bottom lip. He towered over you and you whimpered softly when he curled his fingers around your throat and squeezed.

"Does he know you've been fucking me for the past two weeks?" You swallowed thickly, the pressure against Mason's palm making his cock twitch as he pressed himself against you. You didn't want to talk about your boyfriend, your boyfriend who had been coincidentally cheating on you for months, your boyfriend who was playing against Chelsea just outside of the window you were standing in front of, who thought you were in the away stands, waiting for him. Your boyfriend who had absolutely no idea that you'd left the match barely fifteen minutes in to fuck your best friend. "Are you still fucking him, Y/N?"

"No, why would you even-?"

"I think he knows," Mason's lips settled on your jaw, teeth nipping at your skin and he pushed you back against the window, your thighs hitting the tiny ledge. "I think he knows that for the past two weeks I've been filling his girlfriend's pussy with my cum. That she's been begging me to fuck her just that little bit harder every night. That she's been getting fucked in the back of my car when he thought she was at work." His fingers squeezed your throat again and your knees almost gave in, one hand grasping at his bicep, the other settling behind you for support. You knew that the little blinds on the window would only hide you so much and you hated that it gave you a thrill know anyone could find out about what you were doing.

Mason's fingers helped tip your head back, his dark gaze settled on yours and your mouth automatically fell open, tongue resting on your bottom lip as he worked spit in his throat. You tried not to moan out when he spat directly into your mouth, fingers quickly pressing your jaw closed as his lips found your ear. "I want him to know."

Your pussy clenched around nothing at his words, your nails sinking further into his skin. He'd been teasing you while you'd tried to watch the first part of the match, your attention wavering as he threw his jacket over your lap and trailed his fingers beneath the hem of your sundress. He'd circled his finger around your clit until your thighs were clamping around his hand and you were begging him to stop, your cheeks flushed from trying to hold off your orgasm. It had taken less than a minute for you to coax him out of his seat, desperate for him to fuck you properly again and that's exactly how you found yourself locked in an upstairs room of the Bridge with the perfect view of the pitch and your underwear stuffed in Mason's pocket.

"Mase," You sounded breathless and needy but you couldn't bring yourself to care, you wanted him to ruin you like all those other times, you wanted him to give you that high that only he knew how to find. You shifted against him, pressing yourself against the thigh he'd somehow wedged between your legs and you gasped when your clit brushed his bare skin, shockwaves rolling over you. He'd hardly touched you and you were already hovering on the edge. "Please."

"Please, what, baby? Tell me what you want me to do." He trailed his fingers over your jaw, sliding them across your skin until he could tangle them in your hair and bring your mouth to his. He kissed you before you could speak, cutting off any more immediate begging with soft strokes of his tongue against yours. His other hand settled against your hip and you moaned into his mouth when he pressed his thigh harder against you, his grip helping to guide your clit over his leg.

Your own fingers slid into his hair and you yanked when he flexed his thigh against you, a gentle laugh tickling your lips when he pulled away. His eyes were dark as he watched you, his hand stopping your movements when you tried to grind against him again.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, Y/N."

"I want you to fuck me. Please, Mason, fuck me." He was careful in tucking your hair behind your ear, his eyes darting between your face and the pitch behind you, that spark igniting in them.

"I'm gonna fuck you against this window and you're gonna watch your boyfriend lose his second thing to me." You knew he was referring to the 3-0 thrashing Leeds were currently going through and you weren't about to deny that his words had your body flushing as he heat built between your thighs.

"You've not even played."

"That's not how he'll see it, sweetheart." Mason used his grip on your hip to spin you around, your hands pressing against the glass for leverage as he settled behind you. You knew realistically that you were too far up for any fans to actually see what was going on unless they focused extra hard but you still couldn't stop the rush of nerves that flooded you at getting caught. The nerves were pushed well out of the way however when Mason's fingers lifted your dress up and he pulled your arse back against him.

He clamped one hand on your hip and used the other to guide his cock along your pussy, the tip teasing your clit with each taunting thrust as he coated it with how wet you were. You let your head fall forward slightly, your stomach clenching when he pushed the tip inside of you and then pulled out, going back to grinding himself against your clit.

"Mason." You pushed back against him, mouth falling open as you got ready again to beg him to fuck you but you were cut off by your own yelp when his hand came down on your arse. Pain stung your skin but wetness pooled between your legs at the mix of pleasure, a quiet whimper tumbling into the room when Mason massaged the most likely darkened skin.

"Good girls don’t push their luck, Y/N.”

“Need you.” He made a gentle noise, his lips working over your neck as he lined himself up with your entrance, his tip pushing inside of you again. He pressed the palm of one hand over yours on the window, his fingers slotted against yours and in one thrust he was buried completely inside of you. Your moan was loud and desperate, your head falling forward again as your eyes closed, your pussy clamping down around Mason’s cock like a vice.

“Head up, baby, I want you to watch him.” You felt him smirk against your neck, his breath making your skin prickle as he drew his hips back and pushed back in. The ache you’d felt at not having him inside of you disappeared within seconds and your head was spinning with the feeling of him filling you up so completely. He was setting a harsh pace, his grip on your hip tight as he repeatedly slammed his cock into you. “I wonder how he feels knowing his girlfriend is getting fucked by a World Champion when he can barely keep the ball for five seconds.”

There was an edge to Mason’s voice you hadn’t heard before, a twinge of anger and jealousy that made you tighten around his dick. You could see the match playing out in front of you but you couldn’t focus on that, not with Mason fucking you the way he was. His fingers left your hip and instead settled over your clit, circling slowly despite the quick harsh thrusts of his hips.

“I want him to see, Y/N, I want him to look up here and see how pretty you look full of my cock.” He fucked you harder, his fingers over your clit making you dizzy as you hung on the edge of your orgasm. The sound of his hips against your bum and his low moans in your ear were driving you crazy and paired with the words coming from his mouth you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“Fuck, Mase, you’re gonna make me-“ You shook your head, moans and whines getting louder as you repeatedly clenched around him, Mason’s teeth nipping at the skin of your neck. The quick movements of his fingers against your clit were becoming too much, your pussy far too sensitive from his relentless teasing and it was only seconds before your thighs started to shake.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, baby, let everyone know what I’m doing to you.” Your back arched slightly, the hand not trapped by Mason’s reaching behind you to grip his thigh as you came around him. Your mouth dropped open on a silent moan and he groaned in your ear when your nails sunk into his skin, his next few thrusts punishingly hard even as his cock twitched inside of you. The tightening of your walls around Mason’s cock and the sudden breathless whimpers you were letting out had his own orgasm creeping up on him, his fingers leaving your clit to once again clamp down on your hip.

He stilled against you, hips pressed flush against your bum as he came, filling you while he tucked his face away into your neck to muffle the moans of your name. Your forehead settled against the glass, your mind far too foggy with constant loops of Mason’s moans to care that someone might see. Your pussy was still throbbing and you whined when he gave a few extra pumps, his hips slow as he pushed his cum further into you.

He pressed a single kiss to the skin just below your ear and your heart skipped when he tightened his fingers around yours against the window. He was softening inside of you and you knew you needed to hurry and get cleaned up before someone came looking but you felt too content to move. Mason’s fingers skimmed over your waist and trailed along the curve of your bum as he shifted and finally pulled out of you, both of you hissing at the lack of contact.

You opened your mouth to ask if he’d help you get cleaned up but Mason beat you to it and you froze just as you pulled your dress back down.

“Y/N, I need you to break up with him.”

[secretkinkz]

I Hate You~ A Toji smut

At this point, Idk If I should continue writing. I hate my fanfics. But ty to those who messaged me. Been thinking about quitting this writing stuff, due to horrible writers block. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy. I really tried my best.

Warnings: Choking, hair pulling, breeding, forced marriage, finger sucking and car sex...

Hasn’t been proof read

"If I were you, I'd shut up," Toji grumbled as he kicked the body into the fire. 

I bit my tongue and followed him out of the warehouse. "Good girl." 

He smirked, sitting on top of his car. "Who are we waiting for?" 

I asked, standing next to him. "Chip. He said he'll be here soon." I nodded. 

We sat in silence. Soon enough the sound of an engine roaring caught my attention. "You son of a bitch, what a dramatic entrance."

 Toji stood up and went towards this chip man. "Haha, I have my ways." 

They began talking. "Did you finish the job?" 

Chip asked. "Yeah, he isn't the one who killed Juice but he did go along with the plan." 

Chip nodded. "Alright." Chip glanced at me. 

"She's here again?" Toji nodded. "She's my wife so she comes along." Chip chuckled. 

"That's dangerous, she could get killed." Toji scoffed. "I wish someone would try and lay a finger on her." His mood seemed to have darkened. 

"Woah, I wouldn't let that happen so calm down." Chip placed his hand on Toji's shoulder. "She's a real one." 

I looked away if only Toji cared about me. He's only saying this because Chip favors me. My heart ached. 

"Well, I'll see you then." Chip smiled and walked away, getting in his Lamborghini and driving away.

 "I don't want to do this anymore Toji." He looked at me. "What the fuck are you saying?" He stalked towards me. 

"I want a divorce. This marriage isn't working out." He chuckled and gripped my jaw. 

"This marriage ain't fucking real. We had a deal, you marry me and you stay alive. Asking for a divorce is like killing yourself." 

I pushed him away from me. "You know, that's why you're doing this to me. You know I love you! You fucking bastard! I hate you!" 

I slapped him across the face. He shoved me against the car. "You fucking say those words again and I'll kill you. You're not going anywhere. Even if that means having to tie you down and leaving you in a basement." 

With my hands pinned above my head, I attempted to knee him but failed as he gripped my throat. 7 years of marriage and he still hates me.. 

“Do it, do it!” I screamed out, struggling to get out of his grip. “That’s what I thought, you don’t have the balls to kill me.” 

Toji clenched his jaw and stared at me. “Don’t tempt me woman.” I knew I was playing with my life but fuck it. “Exactly.” I glared at him. 

“So go ahead, tie me up and leave in a basement, it’s better than seeing you everyday.”

 I lied. “You shut your fucking mouth.” I placed my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. 

“Let me leave! You fucking bastard! I hate you, let me-” Toji smashed his lips against mine. I bit his lip, drawing blood. That didn’t stop him though. I won’t give in... Toji gripped my throat tighter. I gasped. 

He used the opportunity and slipped his tongue into my mouth. My eyes fluttered shut, moaning softly as he began grinding against me. 

“I seem to have allowed you too much freedom.” He picked me up and opened the backseat doors.

 He turned me on my knees and pulled my skirt down. I shivered, the feeling of his fingers pressing against my bud was too much.

 “I don’t want it...” I whispered, hoping he didn’t hear me. Toji removed my panties and tossed them somewhere around the car. “Shit.” 

I moaned, feeling his hot breath against my cunt. His warm tongue slid between my folds. I held onto the door for support, feeling myself already becoming weak.

He slid his thick finger past my entrance. “Ohh.”  I moaned as he pushed another finger inside. I cried out at the sudden intrusion. This unknown feeling was driving me crazy. 

He was gentle. I hated this, him pretending to care for me... It's not right.

Not even 5 minutes later, we were all over each other. His huge cock stretched me out. "Fuckkk." Toji's hips snapped forward, his cock hitting my g-spot. 

I let out a cry of pleasure. My pussy clenched tightly around his cock. The sensation was so intense that I felt like I was about to come from sheer pleasure alone. 

He took a fist full of my hair and yanked my head back. My knees were ready to give out on me. 

Driving his cock in and out of my wet entrance, Toji groaned. The feeling of my gummy walls hugging his cock drove him crazier. "Y/n." He shoved his fingers into my mouth. "Suck em, just like you'd suck a fucking cock." I ran my tongue across his fingers. 

This is horrible, he killed someone with these hands. So, why am I so turned on? I failed to keep my eyes open. My walls clamped down onto his cock. "Close.." 

He pulled his fingers away and gripped my throat. "Hold it." His thrust became rougher. 

I dug my nails into the red leather seats. "Tojii!" I was stuck between pleasure and pain. At this point, I was panting and drooling from my mouth.

 He held my hips and buried his cock deeper, letting all of his fluids fill me. I twitched as he continued thrusting.

"Let me leave... You've got what you wanted." I whispered, Toji placed his hands on my stomach. "No, stay with me.." I bit my lip and sighed. 

"It's a one-sided love, I can't stay." Toji stayed silent. "I can’t admit that I love you, It’s dangerous.” I turned around and looked at him.

 “What? It means you do right?” Toji only kissed me. “If people think I don’t give a shit about you, they won’t make you a target.” I nodded slowly. 

“If you do become pregnant then I’ll do all I can to protect you.”

The End~ That's it cause I can't do Fluff 4 shit. 

[sunkissedpages]

dirty reflection || th x reader

Summary: fulfilling a long held fantasy with your boyfriend (cockwarming him in front of a mirror)

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: this was a piece for @honeymoonlover's birthday that i inserted tom into :)

Masterlist

"Tell me!"

“No!”

“Please!”

“No, I’m too embarrassed!”

You turned away from your boyfriend on the couch with your arms folded across your chest in protest. If there was anyone who could get you to spill something it was Tom, but you were determined not to break.

“Please, baby?” he asked again, and walked around to the other side of the sofa so that you could see his big brown eyes.

You squeezed your own eyes shut, as to not let him guilt trip you and shook your head stubbornly. Tom let out a sigh of frustration and you thought that maybe he had given up until you heard him chuckle above you.

“Fine, then I guess we won’t have sex at all.”

“What?”

You opened your eyes again and stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. He smirked.

“You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“No,” he insisted, doubling down. “If you won’t tell me what you want, we won’t have sex until you do.”

“You know what I want! You already know how to make me feel good.”

“I thought I did,” he huffed, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

“You do!”

Tom raised his arms above his head, bringing the hem of his t-shirt up to reveal a small strip of his stomach and the elastic of his Calvin Klein’s. You sucked in a breath and pursed your lips, ignoring the sight before you.

“But not this!”

The this he was referring to was just a silly fantasy of yours, one that you had purposely kept secret because you were embarrassed to admit to wanting something so... filthy. You had never planned to fulfill it- you were more than content to simply imagine the scene playing out when Tom wasn’t home, and use your own hands instead of his to take the edge off. But as of 20 minutes ago that wasn’t an option anymore because your boyfriend had come across your messages with your best friend about that very fantasy.

He hadn’t meant to pry. He had just gotten home from shooting and grabbed your Mac off of the coffee table to check Twitter. You weren’t around, but he always used your computer to scroll through social media anyway so he figured he didn’t need to ask. Your last iMessage conversation with Sloane was still up, and he went to minimize the window when he read his name at the top of one of your blue bubbles. He knew he shouldn’t have been reading your private messages, but he couldn’t stop himself.

s: you should just tell him

y/n: idk how to bring it up

s: it’s not that hard

y/n: would it be weird to ask you to tell him for me?

s: bitch yes

s: i don’t want to talk to your bf about your sex life

y/n: tom knows you though! You could just sneak it into conversation casually yk?

s: i’m not telling him you want to be-

That was as far as he got before you walked back into the room and he slammed the laptop shut in panic, looking like you’d just caught him watching porn- which to be fair, you had done before.

Before you could say anything, or even process what had just happened, Tom flipped it around on you.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Your brain still hadn’t processed the situation so you furrowed your brow in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean-”

“Why are you talking to Sloane about our sex life?” he demanded. It finally clicked. “And what about it is so terrible about it that you don’t want to tell me yourself?”

“There’s nothing terrible about it!” you assured him.

“Then what?” His face was starting to turn red like it did whenever he got worked up. “Have you been faking-”

“No!”

You could feel your face starting to heat up as well at the implication.

“We were just talking about a dumb fantasy of mine, that’s all.”

And that’s what led you to where you were now, staring each other down over the edge of the couch, daring the other to be the first to break. The room was still filled with tension, but there had been a shift in context.

Tom's eyes were dark and nearly unreadable in the dim light of your living room.

“You’re really not going to fuck me until I tell you?” you asked. He nodded again in earnest, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “But what do I get out of telling you?”

He gave you a look like it should have been obvious. “We’re going to do it.”

You hesitated. “What if you’re not into it?”

He shrugged and brushed off the possibility. “I’m into whatever you’re into.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I promise,” Tom said and pressed a kiss to your lips as if to seal it. “I’m not going to judge whatever it is you want me to do to you. No matter how gross it is.” You scoffed and swatted at him, but he dodged your hand easily.

“I can’t stand you,” you muttered.

“Oh, is that why you’re always kneeling for me?”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

The smirk fell from his face as he hastily cleared his throat and beckoned for you to continue.

“You know that mirror we have in our bedroom?” you asked.

Tom nodded, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth as if he had an idea about where this was going.

“I’ve always wanted to cockwarm you while we sit in front of it.”

Your boyfriend was smiling from ear to ear now. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“I mean, pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” The next part you mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” Tom asked, leaning over the couch so that he could hear you.

“Yes,” you bit out and clenched your jaw in a pathetic sort of pout.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Okay, get up.”

“What, why?”

“I’ve got some lines to read over. You can keep my cock warm while I do that.”

“Right now?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“It-it is.”

“Then get up.”

You did as you were told and stood up from your spot on the sofa, watching as Tom grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs and began dragging it behind him.

“Why-”

“I don’t want to ruin our armchair,” he said as an explanation and jerked his head in the direction of your bedroom, motioning for you to follow him.

The mirror in your bedroom was one of your favorite things in the house. It sat on the floor leaned up against the wall with a large ornate frame encompassing it. It was almost taller than you, and weighed about sixty pounds. Its gold paint was chipping in the corners and it was a bit scuffed up, but it was still the best find you’d ever made at the antique fair and you stood by that. You still remembered carrying it home the day you bought it. Tom had filmed the process instead of helping, watching you struggle with the newspaper-wrapped package through the screen on his phone with a smug grin on his face the entire time.

Tom set the chair on the floor in front of the mirror and began to strip, pulling off his hoodie first before shimmying out of his joggers. You followed in suit by unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. You stepped out of it and went for your shirt next, yanking it over your head. Your hands went for the clasp of your bra after that before thinking twice.

“Do you want my bra off or-”

He seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. “Leave it on.”

You nodded and dropped your hands back by your side, watching him grab his notebook from the desk and settle on the chair. He was completely naked now, and you were left in just your underwear, a scene you both were intimately familiar with.

He spat into his palm and took his cock in his hand, pumping a few times before you stopped him.

“Let me,” you offered, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He groaned and handed over his control easily. You grinned to yourself before taking him in your mouth. You knew he’d never pass up an opportunity to have you suck him off.

You worked slowly, taking your time, enjoying the feeling of him getting hard on your tongue. Tom gripped your hair with one hand and clutched his notebook with the other. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his head upright. In the mirror he could see the back of your head bobbing up and down on his lap, the expanse of your back, every scar, freckle, and mole he’d seen a thousand times before but now from a different angle.

You hollowed out your cheeks and took him to the back of your throat, trying not to laugh when you heard him curse.

“Stop,” he breathed out, pulling you off of him by your hair. “You’re a menace.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

He glared at you for a moment before flicking his gaze downwards.

“I’d ask if you want me to return the favor, but I don’t think I need to.” He reached out to prove his point and brushed a couple fingers over your panties, ignoring the way you trembled as he did. He held his hand up to you to show you the wetness gathered on his pointer and index before bringing them to his lips and sucking it off. “You’re plenty wet already.”

You suppressed a moan and pursed your lips, nodding in agreement.

Tom didn’t have to say anything for you to know what he wanted next. You slipped out of your panties and tossed them to the side. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you straddled him and lined yourself up. You both sighed as you sank down onto his cock. He kissed you deeply, winding a hand through hair and moaning your name. You let your head rest against his shoulder and tried not to rock your hips forward. Your boyfriend was having similar issues, hips stuttering underneath you, head falling back in pleasure.

“T-tommy,” you gasped.

“Don’t,” he warned through gritted teeth. You clenched around him involuntarily and whined. “What did I just say?”

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

He took a deep breath and began flipping through the pages of his notebook. You craned your neck to look back at your reflection in the mirror, smiling weakly at the sight. Tom had an arm slung loosely around your waist still. His cheeks were rosy and warm to the touch. Your ass was on full display at this angle, but you didn’t mind. You knew it was your boyfriend’s favorite view anyway, and you weren’t ashamed to admit that you could see why.

The way you were seated on his lap made it look like you could have just been cuddling. The reflection didn’t show Tom's cock buried deep inside your pussy and your breathing had slowed to somewhat of a normal pace.

Tom began to recite his lines to himself and you turned your attention back to him, admiring how he looked while he was concentrating. His eyelashes were so fucking long, it was something you had always been jealous of. The light filtering into the room made them look blond...

You were doing so good. You were relaxing comfortably, lost in your own thoughts, when Tom moved for the first time. He was just scratching his ankle, but the sudden movement made you yelp.

“Don’t do that!” you cried.

“What, this?” he asked and bent down to scratch his ankle again.

“Yes, that,” you growled.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“What about this?”

He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head.

“That’s worse!” you hissed.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He just shrugged and tossed his notebook on the bed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Could use a break,” he replied simply, “and it’s hard to focus with distractions.”

The last part was pointed at you and you narrowed your eyes.

“I have been perfectly still.”

“Yeah, but your... impatience is, well, physical.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re soaking, love.”

You looked down at Tom's lap and suddenly realized what he meant. Your arousal was quite literally dripping onto his thighs and the chair beneath you. That was why he didn’t want to use the armchair. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment and buried your head in your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand up and down your back comfortingly. “Don’t be! I know you can’t help it, and it’s honestly really fucking hot.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No,” he promised and shook his head adamantly. “I like that I have this effect on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I know.”

“So this fantasy of yours,” he said, clearing his throat. “How does it end?"

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I get to pick how it ends?”

“Mhm. I usually leave it up to the imagination so it’s open-ended.”

“You mean when you masturbate to it you cum before it ends so you lose interest?” Tom clarified.

“Maybe.”

“I know you,” he said cockily.

“And like I said, you know what I like.”

“I like to think I do.”

“So tell me what to do.”

“You just like being bossed around.”

“And what about it?”

“Brat,” he spat.

“Bitch.”

Tom smiled and jerked his hips the slightest bit, making you whimper. “Stand up.”

You tried not to show your disappointment, but did as you were told and stood up, wincing at the empty feeling that followed.

“Just for a minute, baby,” he assured you. “Turn around.”

You turned so that you were facing the mirror and let yourself be pulled back onto your boyfriend’s lap. He slid his cock back inside of you almost immediately and praised you for taking it so well.

“I thought you should see yourself,” he whispered against your shoulder.

You moaned, only able to nod in agreement. You were positioned at a bit of an angle now since you were facing forward, but any discomfort you felt evaporated when Tom kissed the back of your neck. He unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor.

“Look at you,” he murmured as he urged you to start riding him, “fucking yourself on my cock like a slut.”

“Fuck, Tom.”

You forced yourself to look at your reflection, straining your neck so that you could see clearly. You made eye contact with yourself only to see a stranger stared back at you. The person in the mirror looked like a fucking pornstar, tits out, legs spread, but also fucked out of their mind.

“Feels so good,” you panted.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Tom brought a hand down to your clit and started to rub in circular motions, a clue that he was getting close. Your legs were shaking at this point and you could feel your own orgasm starting to creep up on you as he slammed into you from behind.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Tom grunted.

You met his eyes in the reflection and gave a weak smile. “I know.”

“Fuck, y/n!” He came suddenly with a moan of your name. You watched in the mirror as his eyes screwed up and his whole body tensed underneath you.

“Can I- can I cum?” you begged, not even sure if you’d be able to hold out if he said no.

A mere nod of his head was all it took for you to tip over the edge. Tom weakly fucked you through it, still riding the end of his own high.

“So good for me,” he managed in broken breaths.

You arched your back against his chest as you came, mumbling profanities the entire time. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch yourself fall apart, but you only caught glimpses.

You collapsed back against Tom as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, gasping for breath like you had just finished running a marathon.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Tom wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head gently. You were both covered in sweat and cum, but neither of you could find the energy to care.

“Of course.”

You let yourself relax against his body for another moment, observing your reflections in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, but so was Tom's. Hickeys were already beginning to bloom on your neck and shoulders, reminders to follow you in the days ahead.

Your eyes wandered up to meet your boyfriend’s, who was already gazing at you tenderly. You shared a brief look and smirked at each other.

“Round two?”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!