#but it is AGONIZINGLY PAINFUL to hear it from someone you aren't into.

[danmeichael]

if i'm ever struggling with writing mo ran's dialog i just look to asmr boyfriend roleplay videos.

[whumplump]

Hi! I love your writings so much

You might be a busy cookie at this moment, but I wanted to request nsfwhump where Whumper chokes Whumpee during an intimate session

But Whumper taking it seriously and nearly killed Whumpee in the process

That's all <333 I love you, mwah!

Hello, anon, thank you so much, both for the compliment and for the ask! I hope you enjoy this piece.

CW: nsfwhump, non con, choking, sadistic whumper, non con drugging

Heavy and thoroughly descriptive. Please, don't read it if you're sensitive.

Plastic Moorings

The first entry was always painful. Whumper didn't mind trying to make things more comfortable. In fact, inflicting pain was part of the game, part of the fun, part of the sadistic pleasure that Whumper got from watching Whumpee scream, cry and shake in pain, discomfort, shame. Above the physical pleasure of intimate contact between bodies, the sadistic psychological pleasure of dominating and overpowering.

Whumper repeated the movement. In and out, in and out. Once, twice, dozens, hundreds of times. They never seemed satisfied. They always took too long, and this, in addition to forcing Whumpee to be under the despair of being forced to do this all this time, also made them feel humiliated. Would they be of no use either for that or for satisfying someone with their body, which is why Whumper always took so long?

It didn't seem like the case, given the words. That evil voice, full of malice. Whumper lowered their voice and spoke between their grunts, the same wicked words.

“You're such a disgusting thing, you know that?”

“That's only what you're good for.”

“Aren't you glad I have any interest in such an ugly body you have here?”

“You're only good on the inside. I'm not talking about your heart, though…”

“Filthy slut.”

Whumpee tried to squirm against the restraints that held their wrists and feet, but even if they were properly conscious, they couldn't. The ropes were tied tightly.

"Ah, look at that." Whumper said, running a hand down Whumpee's bruised, naked body. "Do you want me to let you go, beautiful?”

They ran their hand up from Whumpee's waist, up to their chest, stopping over their collarbone. Whumper's fingers danced agonizingly slow over Whumpee's soft skin, scarred from bites and spanks. The mischievous fingers went up, calmly wrapping themselves around Whumpee's neck. The captive immediately tried to draw air for fear of being suffocated and unable to do so later. But even with the most vivid effort, the drugs that coursed through their veins kept them semi-conscious, unable to speak, except for painful grunts and, however repugnant it may be, moans.

Whumper watched the fear grow in the unfocused eyes of their abused captive, and clenched their fingers. Whumpee squirmed in anticipation of the next move. Whumper grunted and forced themselves harder into that warm body, forcibly given to them. Whumpee was too drugged to cry in pain. Whumper tightened their grip on Whumpee's neck as they murmured continuous vows of lust, punctuating each sentence with a thrust.

Whumper squeezed tighter and tighter, with all their might. Whumpee coughed, desperate, choking. It was no longer enough that they couldn't resist, but now they couldn't even breathe. The brain ordered the lungs to draw air frantically, but it was like shouting at a deaf person with their back turned, they would never hear. The agony was greater than the pain of Whumper's strength.

A few seconds, which seemed like an eternity. That desperate, helpless expression brought Whumper nothing but pleasure. Both their hands and hips showed more strength over the next few seconds. Whumpee could no longer make out the ceiling of the room, their vision was blurred like clear glass, and it kept getting dark. Their consciousness, held by a fragile rope, tearing with each passing second, until it breaks. Just like Whumper's rope, which broke all the way to the apex. They held Whumpee's waist with one hand and kept the other on the captive's neck.

May God take me soon, Whumpee thought. Why was it taking so long? It was agonizing, but the sadistic pleasure was also temporary. Already satisfied, Whumper released them. Whumpee coughed, choking, and it still took them a long time to get air properly. Whumper got off of them and got dressed. They no longer seemed as enchanted with that body as they had been before.

They stared at Whumpee stretched out on the bed, used up and out of breath, tied up. Perfect, but they weren't interested anymore now. They left with determined steps, leaving the captive to drown in their own shame and pain.

[salaminus]

Rex & Cody and the stolen commando

Summary:

Cody has stolen a commando from Kamino. But Cody isn't there to pick up his package himself, so he sends it to Rex because he can. Rex hasn't slept more than an hour in 48 hours, the caf is empty, his back hurts and there's a stupid commando in his hangar causing stress with Torrent!

Non-native speaker, pleaser bear with me.

Masterlist

CHAPTER 1:

Rex might kill someone. Fives would be best. Or Hardcase. Or Denal. Or Attie - not Coric, he's a medic - forget it, Coric too. It's best if he stabs himself as well.

Two hours of sleep, just two hours of undisturbed sleep, but no, he won't get it because he has to have Torrent under his command.

Rex trudges more than he has to - the door shoots open in front of him, a bunch of shinies salute, yeah yeah, get out of there now, he desperately needs a caf. Someone better not have drunk all the rations, because his personal supply is empty. How can something like that happen, kriffing shit. How and when!

His boys know better than to talk to him, after all. First course through the canteen, past the crowded tables. Far too little blue in the white sea of plastoid, that's unpleasant, it should be different. Problem for later, first the most important thing - caf, otherwise Rex will fall asleep. His eyes burn, when he blinks, his eyelids feel like they're stuck, he always needs two seconds before he can open them completely.

Past the queue - every now and then it pays to be a kama wearer, it has to, you don't forget the pain from back then - to the large plastoid cup, full of the strange powder from which the stuff is made. Step by step, he should be able to see the black stuff, but the large bowl remains nice and white.

What.

He stands in front of it - a pitiful little pile of powder, down in the corner, it barely fits on a fingernail is in the box, otherwise it's empty. Scratched out, rather licked out. This can't be true! Rex wants to scream, knock the box off the table, he's already clenching his fist when his com flashes happily. Karking fucking green, "WHAT!"

"Good morning to you too, sunshine."

Cody, of course, the little bastard grins and Rex can hear it, it makes his blood boil. "What do you want, shebs, I hope for your sake it's important and if it was a good morning I wouldn't hear your voice!"

Behind him, his men twitch, the very young ones, the babies, look almost terrified. Take a breath, really deep, relax your fingers - no, the box doesn't get punched, but it deserves it, damn Kark – Calm down now, he's kriffing Captain, he can't do that, ARCs are allowed to do that, Captains aren't. He's ARC too, quips an evil ugly voice in his head, it would only be boxing the damn bowl once....

Cody at the com snorts through his nose. "Rex'ika, got off on the wrong foot? Did they turn you inside out in the retorts? You're talking to a marshal commander."

Oh, fuck YOU.

"Kark you, you shithead. What do you want? If this was in any way official, you wouldn't be greeting me with sunshine, don't fucking give me ranks!"

A brief pause at the other end - a pause in which Rex slams a hand on the kitchen counter so that the karking droid behind it turns around. He does so, agonizingly slowly; if Rex reacted like that with Natborns, he would have been on Kamino long ago for insubordination. "Is there still caf here today, or why is the bucket empty?"

Droids, Rex hates them, especially that one. If anyone else says they can't smile, oh yes, they can, and it does it as sneakily as ever, tilting its head and waddling a step towards Rex. "CT-756---"

 "That wasn't the question, damn it - Where. is. My. Caf!"

"Rex," Cody says at the wrist - oh, no sunshine, no hypocritical smile on his lips that you can literally hear, much better, but Cody's off the air now, Rex needs caffeine before he kills someone.

Droidy doesn't understand, his head just jerks up and down at Rex. "I suggest you go to your commanding clone until you've calmed down."

Rex is about to light something on fire. "I am MY commanding- Is there still caf here now, yes, or no, that was a simple question!"

"If you do not leave this room immediately, soldier, I will inform your superior officer..."

Okay, that's it. Rex is just going to jump over the counter, rip the droid's head off and look for Caf himself, simple as that. He's already got one leg over the counter when someone shouts a very hasty: "Sir!"

Some reflexes can't be helped when they've been pumped into your brain since early childhood, so Rex turns to the speaker anyway - a shiny, completely white, but he has a rather impressive tattoo on his face, a huge V. Much better tattoo choice than Jesse, but what does he expect from Jesse, he already shares the same initial with Jojo, which says it all - wait a minute.

His vod'ika swallows hard, somehow managing to stand even more at attention than before - and he holds out a cup to him. A mug filled with... not caf, no. Coffee, the stuff from the big machine that Nici has set up and which spits out fantastic hot drinks for two hours a day, desirable enough that you now have to register the squads.

Foot back off the counter, Rex walks up to the shiny, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "Name."

That sounded brutal, as if he wanted to berate him, Rex sees him flinch and raises his hand. "I'm sorry. What's your name, vod'ika, I'm in a terrible fucking mood, it's not your fault though."

Minimal relaxation in the eyes of his little brother in front of him, but overall he still stands there with his arm with the cup stretched out like a flagpole. "Sir! Dogma, sir, CT-5784! I have been assigned to the Platoon Bravo--"

Dogma, then, one of the names that was more of a insult. Innately, Rex writes a note to himself to introduce him to Echo.

"That's enough for me, thank you, Dogma."

Take the cup, give the rookie a quick pat on his shoulder. "And you just forget your number. Just like..."

Then he spins around - oh, the cup is warm, really warm, the coffee is still fresh, praise be to Prime's mother –, and stares at the room as best he can with his helmet on. Rex doesn't like to shout, but today everything sucks and therefore he's allowed to do so. "We all forget what I did at the dispenser, is that clear? The second I hear a word about it, you run penalty laps until you vomit!"

Silence, pleasurable silence in the room, wonderful. Rex could just lie down and sleep now, instead he grips his mug tighter and nods to the shiny in front of him. "Thanks for the caf, kid. You're saving some people's lives today and they'll never appreciate it - Cody, what do you want now and keep it short, my patience is shorter today than the time Kenobi has his lightsaber in his hand and doesn't lose it!"

Cody has the decency to wait half a second. Rex takes advantage of this and walks past Dogma to the exit, clutching the cup tightly. Behind him, the droid wants to complain, "Cups may not be removed from the canteen", which Rex acknowledges with a middle finger and "Write to my superior, clanker!", for which he doesn't turn around.

He's almost out of the room, almost behind the saving door, when Cody starts talking. "So, I need you to take something for me. I stole a batch from Kamino."

That's it. Rex rips off his helmet, vaguely sees the horrified looks - never seen anyone go 48 hours without sleep, eh! - and starts drinking the caf in order to down it in one go.

"Hello, are you still there - listen, what's wrong with you, didn't get enough sleep?"

Cody’s about to get slapped in the face. "Commander, kriff yourself, respectfully said. If I haven't slept enough, you're karking kidding, Cody - or you know what, I don't care. I don't want to know. I don't want to know what you did. When is your stupid fucking batch coming and how exactly I'm supposed to proceed with them!"

"That's... quite simple."

Rex pauses. Firstly, he can already feel the caffeine - no, but the warmth of the coffee for that, the smell alone soothes him like a comforting blanket it drapes over him, making his aching eyes blink more easily. However, Cody paused in his sentence, one of the very long ones, and then came the word 'Just'. Something here stinks big time.

"What's that supposed to mean."

"Well, you don't have to do anything, it's a commando."

NOW he’s dead. "A karking COMMANDO?!"

"Don't shout like that. A very nice one, an experimental unit, under my command, you don't have any flimsiwork or anything, you just have to receive it, you can do that, can't you?"

This little fucker. Rex grinds his teeth and marches on towards the exit of the canteen, his eyes stubbornly fixed ahead. Keep thinking about the coffee in his hand. It will help him against everything, against the karking universe, full of stupid, stupid older brothers.

" Receive it for you, Commander. And why doesn't Jango's Pride and Glory do it himself!"

"Rex, I'm not there, we're way off the grid. All you have to do is take the batch and keep it for me, you can do that!"

Rex can do anything because he has to. "Is that an order?"

"If that's what you want," Cody doesn't even have the decency to sound meaner, "then yes. Otherwise it's a favor, but if I order you to do it, I'll forget the part."

"Do it, you douche. I have so many favors with you, I couldn't even redeem them if I wanted to - when's your Commando coming and why are you only telling me about it now?"

"Because it wasn't certain yet..."

Lazy excuse and he knows it. There's something else going on, but Cody doesn't want to say it. Should make Rex even grumpier, but he doesn't even know if that's possible. First he trudges down the corridor towards his quarters. Skywalker better does not want anything from him now, he has reports to finish.

"Yes. So - they're landing soon, they'll be coming out of hyperspace in three hours. I'd be grateful if you could keep them safe... until we meet again or they leave on their own because they've been assigned a mission."

Oh great, wonderful. Just keep walking, he's almost there.

"Rex. Hello?"

No, Rex is not here. Rex has to accept deliveries for stupid ori'vods.

"I've already sent you the files. They're all less than ten years old, by the way, just so you're prepared. I have to---"

"Kote." Rex hisses into the com, stops and bares his teeth involuntarily. "you're sending me an unfinished trained Commando, an experimental unit younger than kriffing Domino Squad?"

"Just a little younger, Rex, and it's a Commando."

"That's exactly the problem!"

MASTERLIST

[afictionalwhore]

"This is a library"

A/N: This is for the BNHA Degeneracy 9-5 Collab! In all my time working in a library, I never got to live out my one fantasy, so here we are with Aizawa! This man makes for every librarian’s wet dreams.

Pairing: Librarian!Aizawa x fem Professor!Reader

Rating: 18+

TW: noncon/dubcon, public sex

Word Count: 1.5K

◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈

In a matter of seconds, Aizawa had you trapped, the shelves obscuring you completely from view, so long as no one decided to wander into that aisle. You were minding your own business, wandering up and down the maze of shelves, there hoping to compose a list of reliable resources for your classes to use in their upcoming papers. The next thing you knew, the head librarian of the university had you pinned to the shelf you were browsing with your back to his chest, wrist locked in his firm grip.

"You absolute brat" his voice growled, low so only you could hear. This was a library after all. His long hair forming a curtain around the two of you, further trapping you in him.

Your mind was racing. You had no idea why Aizawa was talking to you, let alone what you could have done to cause this. 

As if reading your mind, Aizawa said, "Who do you think you are? Prancing around town with my best friend.” You felt him press you harder against the books. “Especially after spending how long teasing me? I thought I was special. Or was this your plan all along?” 

Yamada was the only person you could think of. How could you know that he was Aizawa's best friend? You had never seen the two together; you had never seen the cold librarian speak to other faculty in the library itself, let alone consider one his best friend. More importantly, how could Aizawa have known you had gone out with Yamada? Your one condition to go out with him was to keep quiet.

It was no secret you had it bad for the librarian ever since you took on the position as assistant professor at U.A. You often visited the library, milling around in hopes to work up the courage to speak to Aizawa. Most of the time, you would leave empty handed and not even glancing in the general direction of the object of your affection.

After enough moping over the distant librarian, your friends had convinced you to go on a date with Yamada, the loudmouthed broadcasting professor who had no qualms in hiding how into you he was. You didn't think you had anything to lose. Had you even talked to Aizawa? Maybe? Once? You racked your mind for a time where you had at least one significant conversation with your crush. You felt like an awkward high schooler again.

"I just thought, maybe one date wouldn't hurt," you manage to squeak out.

"One date wouldn't hurt," Aizawa mocked. "Wasn't going to hurt who?" 

You squirmed against him, accidentally pressing yourself against him.

"Oh, I guess you are a little slut," Aizawa teased. His warm breath tingled against the back of your neck before placing light kisses there, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Please, Aizawa. Not here," you were getting anxious that someone, god forbid one of your students, would happen to walk by. 

You pushed yourself back against him in a pitiful attempt to free yourself. Instead you only succeed in teasing the man, the growing tent in his pants not going unnoticed by you.

"This is my library. You’ll call me ‘sir’." Aizawa rolled his hips to press his growing hardness against your backside.

Aizawa's hand, the one not pinning your wrist to the books, found its way to the front of your pants. He stroked a long finger heavily against the lace, prodding it right outside your entrance to gather your slick on the fabric. He moved up to rub against your clit, the lace providing a friction that ignited the familiar heat within you. Aizawa repeated the motions until your panties became a sopping mess. 

Once soaked, Aizawa pushed your panties to the side and once again stroked along your entrance, this time gathering your slick before rolling it into your clit.

"Oh you poor baby," Aizawa cooed. He took his time with the one finger. Dipping into you and slowly pumping the digit in and out of your hot cunt. 

"Oh look at how wet you are. In a library of all places." Aizawa breathed against the back of your neck. "You really are a slut, aren't you? Anyone could walk down this aisle and see you.”

You clenched at Aizawa’s cold words, a rush of heat forming deep within you. The man decided to add another finger, pushing against your tight walls.

“Listen to you,” Aizawa said. Your soaked pussy made lewd, wet noises you prayed could only be heard by you and your captor. “What would you do if someone caught you like this. The new professor being fingered in the library?” 

Aizawa added a third finger, and you fought to suppress a moan. 

"Please," you begged. "Please hurry." What you were begging for you were unsure. You were terrified someone, one of your students, your coworkers, or the dean, would walk down your aisle. But despite your earlier protests, Aizawa was making you feel good. Really good. You could feel the heat within your gut grow hotter, the knot in the center of the heat tightening, begging to be snapped.

"Are you in any position to be making requests, slut?" Aizawa retorted, withdrawing his fingers.

You whined and instinctively pushed your hips back against him.

“Patience or you don’t get to finish.” Aizawa threatened with a lightness that scared you more than it comforted. 

You attempted to turn around and face him, but Aizawa was quick to grab your waist and squeeze threateningly.

“Don’t you think about trying anything,” Aizawa growled in your ear.

Confident that you were fully compliant to him, thanks to your fear and ruined orgasm, Aizawa stepped away from you. You stood still except for a shiver, the loss of Aizawa's warm body chilling you. 

You heard the rustling of clothes. Aizawa undoing his belt and pushing his clothes down just enough to free his aching length. He lifted your leg, placing his large hand right above the inside of your knee. 

"Remember: this is a library," Aizawa unwound his gray scarf and tied it around your mouth, a convenient gag. "Do try to be quiet," Aizawa hummed into your ear before thrusting into you, his whole length filling you.

He was long and had the girth to match. It's always the quiet ones. Despite your earlier prep from his fingers, your wall clenched around him in slight discomfort, trying to adapt to the much larger intrusion. 

The first few strokes were agonizingly slow after his hard entrance. You mumbled incoherently against the makeshift gag and pushed back against Aizawa, trying to goad him into speeding up his trusts.

"What was that, sweetheart?" You could hear the smirk in Aizawa's voice. "I'm afraid I couldn't hear you." Aizawa knew exactly what you wanted.

He adjusted his grip on your leg, slightly bouncing you up before slamming you back down on his cock. With this change in pace, you couldn't help but fall back against him, Aizawa now supporting all your weight. He hit your cervix; the pain had you crying out against the gag and your eyes watering. Over and over, Aizawa pistoned his hips up to meet every downward thrust of your helpless body on his shaft.

"Is this what you wanted?" Aizawa teased. You couldn't tell him it was too fast, too hard, and too loud. The wet sounds of Aizawa's balls slapping against you were ringing in your ears.

Eventually the pain subsided. You felt like you could see stars with every thrust of Aizawa's. The heat was back, and this time you were even more desperate to finish. The tears that had gathered in your eyes at his hard motions were threatening to spill over with each thrust.

"Is it okay if I cum inside?" Aizawa panted.

In your desperation to cum, to finally tip over that blissful edge, you nodded frantically.

"Tsk. What a slut," Aizawa pulled out, the sudden loss of his cock causing your pussy to spasm around nothing, as though trying to pull him back in. You sobbed against your gag.

"Am I really that special?” Aizawa pumped himself. "You're acting just like a little cumslut?" After a few more strokes, Aizawa found himself cumming in your panties with a small grunt. 

You groaned in frustration of having a second orgasm ripped away from you.

Aizawa shifted your panties back into place, careful not to spill a drop of his hot, white cum. 

"There," he said, before giving a soft pat pat to your weeping pussy. You could feel his cum quickly cooling and sticking your panties against you. You gave a slight hum of disappointment. “Oh I’m sorry”, Aizawa smirked, “Are you upset?”

You squeeze your legs together, desperate for any type of friction, the feeling of Aizawa’s now cold cum uncomfortable as he untied his scarf.

“I only cum inside for good girls. Fucking me at work, where any of your students could have seen us, isn’t really being a good girl now is it?

[darthwheezely]

Okay so BY NO MEANS DO YOU HAVE TO WRITE THIS IF YOU AREN'T UP FOR IT!!! BUT- can you write something where Jimmy holds the reader down and just overstimulates them with his fingers and whenever it gets too much he kind of teases them about it (in like a sweet way but still not stopping). IDK- it's a hot thought if you're up for it!!! AGAIN YOU DON'T HAVE TO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO! Thank you and I hope you have a wonderful night/day💗💗

Finger Lickin’ Good - Jimmy Darling x Reader

Jimmy’s way too pent up to let those beautiful hands of his go to waste...

Warnings: NSFW/18+, if you’re a minor plEASE do not interact w this I know you wanna be spicy but sis please do not, okay? cussing probably, soft dom!Jimmy, possibly awful writing, my kink for Jimmy’s hands and heart and body and mind and-

a/n: lindsey, miss ma’am, you literally know i’m a whore for this man and besides, you could request the most whack shit and i would still prolly write it if only to see your reaction ajsjsjs

To say that Jimmy’s balls were blue was an absolute understatement. The man was honestly lucky enough to have balls at the rate (or rather, lack of) things were going. You and Jimmy’s sex life was always - well something neither of you ever needed to worry about, but lately with Elsa running around covering all her legal bases, she had sent everyone in a frenzy.

Unfortunately for you two this meant less than satisfactory time together. It was always something. And to be quite honest, Jimmy didn’t know if he could go another two weeks without touching you. And to make matters worse he knew you weren’t making it any easier.

It started with little things, light touches on his shoulders, something usual in your relationship. Then jaw kisses before going onstage. Then wearing The Dress.

Yes. That dress. The a-line that managed to not only show off a small but still good amount of cleavage, the waistline elastic bow on the back sinking into where your elevated waist hit naturally, and the worst? It was white. Jimmy had a thing for you in white.

That morning he couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, clearly, you wanted to act that dirty with him knowing he couldn’t touch you, right? So what was he gonna do about it? 

He was gonna show you exactly who had the upper hand.

*your POV uwu*

You would never say it out loud, but you only wore The Dress for days exactly like this: to torture your boyfriend. And honestly? You didn’t think you could go a day without imagining those intensely gifted fingers on (or in) you for another goddamn hour. But you also couldn’t say that.

So you had decided that morning to show him instead - he always was a visual learner...

You had been talking to Evie and eating your plate of bacon and hashbrowns when you felt two large, calloused hands collapse on your shoulder blades.

“Evie, mind if I steal the lady away for a second?” He drawled lowly. The way he said it combined with the weight of his hands on your body hit your core instantly.

Eve rolled her eyes, smirking. “If ‘a second’ is all it’ll take.” You smiled tightly at her as you allowed your boyfriend to guide you, albeit rather roughly, back to the van. Immediately as you got inside he pushed you up against the fridge and you winced from the pain.

“Jimmy, what the-” He stopped you with his mouth on yours, open and hungry, his hands working up the back of your thighs, causing a moan to erupt from you on impact into his mouth.

“You knew exactly what you were doing to me out there, and you thought it was a fuckin’ okay idea to tease me?” He lowered his mouth to your earlobe and downward, light nibbles on hot skin turning to harsh bites. You could feel his fully hardened cock against your heat and you wanted more than ANYTHING for those jeans to be off his body.

“I-I’m sorry, baby I just thought you’d li- oh fuck, Jimmy” You gasped, as he’d found that place right above your collar bone that (as he came to found out) was one of the most sensitive spots on your torso. Smirking against your skin, he traced the area with open mouthed kisses and began to bite again, leaving you attempting to stifle breathy high pitched whines.

“What was that, babydoll?” His hands picked up your thighs and brought your legs around his waist, pressing you harder against the fridge.

“I said I’m sorry” you gasped, pained by the feeling and the need for him. He smirked, bringing his thumb up to your chin and kneading it lightly.

“Aw, princess, I’m not mad at you. But the way I see it is that I’m gonna split that sweet little pussy of yours open with these-” he dragged his two fore fingers across your bruised collar bone, and looked back up at you.

“-and then you’re going to come so hard you can’t breathe. Sound good, baby?” He smiled softly at you. You bit your lip to hold back a moan and did your best to nod without moving any part of his body out of place. He chuckled watching you, and without a moments notice lifted you with toned tensed biceps and carried you to the bed, an array of heavy kisses being exchanged on the journey.

He dropped you on the bed watching as your breasts moved from the impact and groaned at the sight. He looked into your bright/dark eyes and flipped the lower half up, breath hitching in his throat. God, was he the luckiest fucker this side of the Mississippi. 

“Jesus, baby, you’re so goddamn beautiful,” he breathed, a dopey smile plastered on his face as he attacked you with kisses on your face, making you giggle at his soft demeanor.

“For someone so mad a second ago you seem to suddenly be pretty forgiving,” you laughed.

“I can still be mad but have eyes, Y/N, don’t get your panties in a twist” he scoffed, smiling into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, so I still get to keep my panties on by the end of this little argument?” You purred dragging your hands slowly down the back of his white tank top, barely touching him. And just like that, he was back to the state he was before. Instantly, he sat up and unbuckled his jeans, taking the brown belt in his hands he forced your wrists onto the headboard. 

“Now, just when did I say that?” He growled, tightening the hold on the belt. You knew your wrists would be raw as hell after however long this escapade took but strangely enough - that only got you more slick.

“JImmy, please” you whimpered, pleading with his whiskey eyes. He leaned back on his knees and began to slowly creep his tough and warm hands up and down your legs, inching his perfect fingers to your thighs at an agonizingly slow pace. 

“Angel,” he purred “you know I can’t help you if you don’t use your words.” You moaned at the idea of his fingers getting closer to where you needed them, tugging on the belt but forgetting (this bastard-)

“JImmy, please gimme”

“Give you what, baby? Tell me what you need, yeah?” He slid his fingers right outside of your clothed core and gently kneaded the skin there, pushing lightly, sending your back upward as you let out a loud moan.

“Jimmy, please, give me your fingers” you pushed out. He bit his lip at the sight of you, red faced, needy, and ready to be torn apart. His breath hitched as he slid two fingers inside you, not being able to tease you for very much longer. He needed you to come apart, to be unraveled as soon as possible - but not without a price.

“There you go” he whispered roughly, his fingers working against you the way you needed them to. You felt like your core was getting pried apart and hearing his fingers only sink deeper into your heat made you even more wet. He moved his fingers in you faster once he was completely in you, and started to jut his hips toward you involuntarily as he imagined how you would feel around his cock since it’d been so long-

“God, you’re so tight for me, Y/N, fuck” he choked out harshly, ghosting his thumb over your clit, tracing circles where you needed it. “Almost like this pussy was made for me, isn’t it baby?”

The sudden gentleness, however, retreated as fast as it arrived, as he picked up the pace, curling his fore fingers in you at an iron-hot speed. You felt your wrists becoming rawer and rawer by the second as your body strained for release to touch him, to imagine feeling your hands clawing his back and feverishly running your fingers through his coiffed hair. You screamed out harshly as he found your most sensitive point. You felt the white hot tension in your stomach as you approached your release.

“JIm, baby, please I’m-I’m so-” and then you felt him pull his fingers out, whining at the loss of contact. He cocked his head at you, eyeing you up and down biting his lip.

“You always want things, so easy, lovebug,” he said softly. Leaning all the way back so he returned to his knees at the edge of the bed. He pulled his shirt off and started to unbutton his pants, his fully erect cock straining against his boxers. You drooled at the sight of him almost completely naked. 

He dipped his head once he knew you were calmed down enough, pressing sloppy kisses on your calves up to the lower part of your thighs. He hitched a leg up on his shoulder, looking up at you first for consent and licking a stripe up your folds. 

“You taste as good as you look, little girl” he growled against you, the vibrations sending your head flying backward a squeak erupting from your lips. 

“Should I taste more of you? I don’t know if you deserve it little girl. You looked like you wanted one of the boys to take a turn with you before me. Or did you act like a whore today all for me?” he bit your inner thigh lightly, sucking on the skin there like it was gold. You cried out hoarsely, desperately pulling on his hair.

“Only for you, Jim, I promise” you feel him smirk against you as he began sucking onto your sensitive bud, your arousal building in your stomach like a fire pit. His fingers continuing to work against you as you felt release inching nearer again.

“Please, Jimmy, please” his tongue curling pressure where you needed him, the weight of him against you pooling what felt like everywhere in your system.

“Go on, honey, go on and come for me and tell me who this pussy belongs to” he pressed your hips to the bed as you cried out his name in release of everything he’d done to you.

“Jimmy, that was-“

“Good? Don’t sound so surprised” he teased softly winking up at you. His hand slid to the back of your dress, dancing along the zipper.

“But you didn’t think you were done here, did you, little girl?”

[broomswept-thoughts]

I was wondering why I'm feeling evasive around responding to Duncan on messenger. Like oh is it because I'm tired of long texts, I don't want to reply to soon so I don't appear desperate or what, etc. But I think I've realized it: It's because I don't want to have to wait for an agonizingly long time and to be hung up on his reply. I don't want to experience that pain and that's why I don't want to reply (because then I would have to wait and never know when I'll hear back or if I even will or if he actually finds me annoying etc etc etc). I mean, those other thoughts are still probably fears and anxieties I might have, realistically, but when I think about the root cause of my procrastination, I think it's because I don't want to have to pine or have any expectations about talking with Duncan that will just hurt me. I don't want my hopes to be messed around with, and I'm done falling for people who won't like me back. I don't want to be in pain like this or to tie my fate to unrequited pain and loneliness anymore. Fate might sound lame, but if my mindset resigns itself to a life of longing, then I think I might as well have said fate because my future probably won't get any brighter from my mindset.

Sigh.

It's difficult for me to realize that I'm not actually particularly special in a romantic way, which sounds incredibly arrogant and egotistical but... I guess maybe because I thought we always mirrored each other so much that I thought my feelings would too. Maybe I can let my mind rest with the thought of twin flames, as the existence of people who make you reflect on who you yourself are by how they live their life together with yours. And also how they can end up being tragic together, that they're lessons for both people and in moving forward and beyond toxic behaviors from the past. But whatever the case, I guess it's a lot of wish fulfillment in not wanting to see the truth or believe Duncan when he said he doesn't like me in that way. Maybe that's why the confession and rejection in Anthem of the Heart hits. Because the two are both so special to each other, but it'll never be a romantic relationship and one doesn't see the other the same way. I guess maybe I can... Presume? That this relationship is so in the same way. Or at least, the idea that someone can change your life and also not be someone you want to be with romantically even if they treasure you in that way. I guess it's sad. A lot.

When I talk with Duncan, I feel like I'm being made special. Or maybe it's also because he's someone special in how he asks and knows about me? But I feel special, as though others don't know him as well as I do (which is again, super arrogant but I think it underlies why I feel... Or can't see? The platonic aspect). I feel like I know him well and he knows me well in ways that other people don't know. Which is such a romanticization, because doesn't everyone know someone in a unique way? But ig in my mind, it's just in a greater extent or more deeply. Conveniently to my feelings ig but still. I guess.......... Maybe it's also tied to the fact that romantic feelings have always been confusing for me. A partner just seems like someone who knows you best, how you are and what you like/ don't like and what would make you happiest. In the sense of being known well, that's what intimacy seems like to me. To be seen clearly.

But I guess in the end, romantic relationships aren't and shouldn't be the only relationship where you feel close or intimate emotionally with someone. I have a lot of close and strong friendships, somehow, and I don't think... I think they all want to see and know me for how I am as clear as possible. When I think about talking with Duncan, I wonder if I could have the same depth of conversations with other people and the answer is yes. Just like with other friends.

I'm going to be unhappy and led astray by my feelings if I think that Duncan seems me romantically secretly or that it's a "matter of time" or anything that makes the assumption that he was lying. I just want something to be true badly. I'm just a good friend whom he can talk about certain things that are more related to wellness, just as he has other friends whom he can talk to about exercise or board games or family or anime or anything else. Does being able to speak about wellness make me somehow more important than a friend he has whom he talks to about sports? Probably not. He probably treats them just as genuinely as he does. I just wish it meant something else, but I also need to let people act as they do and live their life. I can't convince someone emotional intimacy, as though that can be something used to make my own wishes come true. I can be intrigued and curious without forcing people to conform to my idea of emotional intimacy. I also can't make people fall in love with me, unfortunately. So in the end, I should just respond as I would to long texts from Tammy or Sarah or Maya. See, I think I'm a close friend with them and I have conversations with them that I don't have with anyone elae and that they don't replicate with others, but they're not romantically in love with me. And that's okay because I'm not looking for that with them either. Neither pulling for information or dropping people. In the end, I think I just gotta remember that talking with Duncan is just casual, just like a pastime like how talking and texting friends is a pastime like with Tammy or 3xA about random things. It really doenst have to be deep.