#but this is just for the bit that mark's doing

[bi-writes]

i wanna know about john n his pretty wife!! i have questions!!! how does she deal with the times he gets called in too much, their first big spat? gimme all the angsty details that end with him giving her a little shake 🥴

today marks 37 days. (18+)

he said he would be home 23 days ago, but it's still 36 days too long for you. you talked to him about this, you think.

no—that can't be it. you talked. john did not listen.

you're tired. you knew you would be. you knew it the first time john looked in your eyes when he came inside of you—really came inside of you. no condom, hand fixed against the bend of your jaw, blue eyes wide and focused. john was chasing something then, determined to make it to the finish line of a race, but the thing that always strikes you as strange is that he is always the only one running. there is no competition, and yet john treats your relationship that way.

he always has to win. the winner of the argument. the more expensive gift. the more thoughtful response. the heavier hand, the fatter wallet, the softer kiss—

but he can shove all of it up his fucking ass. he's a liar.

john likes the red carpet whenever he comes home. he likes routine. he likes stomping his boots out on the welcome mat, dropping his duffel by the door, and eating a big meal before he puts you on your back on the marble kitchen counter and eats you out with a voracious growl.

the ring placated you for a bit. big, sparkly thing, something you loved showing off to your friends, at the office, dangling it in front of the gossips at your spin class just to get them to shut the fuck up for once. it made you docile—you liked it for a little while. you liked playing dress-up.

frilly apron. dutch oven full of tender meat. big, wet eyes as you knelt between his legs and let him come on your tongue for being so brave, so good, such a hero. you put the rose-tinted glasses on and let a man fuck you so brain-dead, you forgot your own convictions.

and for what? a fucking BMW?

you're smiling to yourself when you pull into the garage. john's car is there, and you shut your car door with your heel as you make your way inside. you shut the door hard behind you, barely glancing at john's duffel bag by the door as you hang up your leather purse and drop your keys in the bowl.

john's in the dining room. he's sitting at the table, manspreading, and there's a bottle of some dark liquor and a glass sitting in front of him. there's also an ashtray there, where a fat cigar sits, and you scowl when you see it.

it's not allowed in the house.

he doesn't move when he hears your heels hit the hardwood. he does clench his jaw, however, when you pick up the bottle of liquor from in front of him and tip it upside down over the tray. you watch with a bored expression as you fill the ashtray with liquor until it overflows, putting out the cigar and flooding the wood table with a sodden cigar and ashy alcohol.

you take a swig from the bottle once you're satisfied, gritting your teeth as it goes down hard. scotch. fucking gross.

"welcome home," you say bitterly, wiping your hand off on his shirt before making your way into the kitchen. you reach into the freezer for a pint of ice cream, closing it with your hip as you fish out a spoon and pop the lid off.

john is standing in the doorway when you sit on the couch. he's angry, that much is clear, but you pretend that it doesn't bother you. you stick a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth before giving him your eyes. you smile.

"yes, john?"

"i don't ask for much," he starts. you laugh, tucking your feet up underneath you. you take another spoonful of ice cream—this is gonna be good. "do i, love?"

you raise a brow. "you're asking me, honey? or telling me?"

john crosses his arms over his chest, rocking on his feet as he walks further into the room.

"don't get smart with me, baby."

"oooo..." you laugh, and it makes him flinch. "i'm terrified, john."

"i'm not tryin' to scare you, i'm trying to make you listen," john snaps. you point the spoon at him and wink, nodding your head.

"mmm..." you smile. "now you have it, john. bingo. it feels good when your wife listens, doesn't it? and it fucking sucks when she doesn't, huh, honey? when she doesn't do what you expect her to? when she fibs...when she goes back on her word—"

"oh, that's what this is about?" john comes forward, bending low, cupping your jaw with a soft hand before he grips it tight between his fingers. his paw dwarfs your throat, and you glare up at him. "cause i'm late?"

"i feel lucky when you're late," you push his hand off of you. his brow furrows. "you could be dead for all i know, but at least when you're late, your sorry ass comes through the door and can just pretend all over again like everything is fine."

"you knew," john murmurs. "you knew what you were signing up for."

"i did!" you snap. you throw the spoon at him, but he just hits it away, letting it clatter onto the floor. your eyes water. "i did know, and i told you to let me go! i told you!"

"you knew that was never going to happen," john spits. you're startled by the way he snarls at you. john is normally so good at keeping his composure. he fights, but he does it with a smart mouth and a smug smile, but this—the idea of losing you, of letting you go—that pushes him over some edge? "you knew i was never going to let you go, so i don't even know why you fuckin' asked me to. if you think for one second that what we have isn't until death, i don't mind giving you a reminder."

"john," you whisper. your lip wobbles. "john, i love you more than anything in the world." you blink away tears, but they spill over anyways, unforgiving. "please...i can't do this anymore with you. i-i can't spend weeks in agony thinking that you're dead. i can't do it, john. i-i can't, i can't spend one more night in that bed without you—"

"oh, love."

you hate that the sex is so good. you hate more than anything that john is anything but a selfish lover. he might be a man with a few years on him, but his stamina endures. he tests your flexibility with the way he spreads your thighs to accommodate the width of himself, but you welcome the stretch. thick cock splitting you open, sweaty chest against yours, a big hand under your head to keep you close as he licks into your mouth and tells you how beautiful his wife looks, just like always.

how good she feels. how wet she is. how tight her pretty pussy is, how nice it'll feel when it's full of him—i'll keep you forever, i'll make it forever, in, in, in, inside you—

john tastes the way fine wine does. bitter, warm, better with time. it takes a bit to get used to him. it takes a bit of breathing and a bit of familiarity to realize what it is that you have in your hands, but you are just as bad.

he cannot let you go, and you cannot let him go. you claw, and you scream, and you beg for a life that's different from this one, but you won't walk away because it's just not possible.

but what is love if not something that mends what is broken? that drips glue into the spaces between the cracks and keeps what will come apart from falling into itself?

your kisses taste like chocolate, of course.

it's john's favorite.

[flipthepaige]

driver, roll up the partition, please!

includes. SMUT 18+, paige bueckers x fem! reader. public setting still somewhat private, oral, drunk and nasty, little bit of sub paige, praise and begging, grinding, makeup smudging, just all over each other…

about. after your girlfriend gets drafted number one overall, neither of you have the patience to wait until the afterparty. surely the driver won’t mind if paige celebrates a little early… right?

ju speaks. incase you didn’t know, i am @ohbueckers :) mama had to make a whole new blog, but she’s back! this is a bit of filth but i haven’t wrote any good smut in so long so i poured it all out here lol. p gets drafted in less than a month, let’s cope the right way, amen!

“Driver, roll up the partition, please!”

She says it all politely, like her lips aren’t as red as a cherry and swollen, like your hands haven’t untucked and found their way up under her dress shirt, nails scraping over the ridges of her abs, like she hasn’t been grinding against you for the last two blocks, all while tasting like champagne and every bad decision you were always going to make tonight. Your leg is hiked up over her lap, and she’s been kissing you like she doesn’t give a damn that the limo is still moving, that you’re supposed to be on your way to the afterparty, that there’s a whole world outside this car waiting to celebrate her—number one overall, finally Dallas’ rookie.

The second she stood up, walked across that stage, and held up that jersey, she was already thinking about getting back to you. And when she did, when she came striding over, still grinning like a kid on Christmas, the most anticipated person in the room but still just your girl, she grabbed you like she needed proof this was real.

Her arms slid around your waist, pulling you in like she was scared someone might try to take you from her. You smiled up at her, and expressed how proud you were, of course. Her lips brushed your forehead, and she made sure you heard the six words that followed, whispering into your hair, “couldn’t have done it without you.”

This time, your mouth is on her neck before she even finishes her sentence, nipping and sucking at her skin, breathing in her Valentino like you can pick apart every ingredient in it. Too eager for manners, and way too far gone to care, you don’t even hear the driver’s muttered response, not even the hum of the partition sliding up and clicking into place. No more audience. No more distractions. Just you and her. Atleast for a couple more miles.

And Paige? Back like she never left, like she needed that barrier up before she could really lose herself in you. “Ain’t even gon’ take ya time with it?” she teases, smiling as her hands slide down, find the swell of your ass, squeeze like she’s been dying to do it all night. “Fuck, y’so impatient,” she mutters, tilting her head back just enough to let you work, and when you bite down just right, she shivers, the pads of her fingers tightening against your shoulder for some sense of stability.

“Mhm?” You grin against her throat, licking over the marks you just left. “You wanna do something about it?”

Paige groans, large hands already pushing the fabric of your dress up over your hips. The amount of need in her movements is overwhelming, because she’s been too good the entire night. She’s been sitting pretty at that table, shaking hands, doing interviews, feeling your eyes on her and knowing she couldn’t do shit about it. Not yet.

And now she’s got you all to herself.

Paige never does anything halfway, and that includes kissing you like she’s trying to ruin you. Your tongues move all sloppy, the sounds even nastier than the kiss, and you swear you hear the music get louder, vibrating against every corner of the vehicle, the driver clearly trying to drown out the obscene sounds of Paige Bueckers losing it in the backseat. But fuck, you’re not quiet either.

You let two of her fingers push your panties to the side, gasping as they run through your slick. You grip onto her tighter as Paige hoists you fully into her lap, straddling her leg as she whispers filth into your ear.

Big hands, rough from years of handles, crossovers, midrange shots that got her here, but gentle where they need to be—slipping between your thighs, spreading you open like she already knows what she’s gonna find.

Her fingers are slipping through the mess you’ve already made for her, slow at first, just to get you going, because she knows how much you want it, because she likes making you wait. But then you whimper, and it hypnotizes her to do exactly what you wanted her to do.

Paige is fast, but she’s precise despite being intoxicated, two fingers sinking inside you like your pussy was made for her. Your breath catches, body jerking forward, head tipping back against the seat, but she keeps you secure, pressing down on your stomach. “That’s it,” she urges, free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you open for her. “Lemme hear it, baby.”

“Mfmph, there.” Your fingers wrap around her wrist while hers curl just right, pressing against that spot that has your thighs shaking, your back arching from her chest. The blonde watches you intently, her pupils blown, lips slick and kiss swollen, owning every reaction like it’s another trophy for her collection. “Right there, P” you drag out.

The music gets louder, and you can’t even make out the lyrics, just the beat of something that never falls low. You’re sure you’d have some remorse for the driver if you weren’t about three drinks in and a little fucked out, but you can’t find it, because Paige wants all of it. Every sound, every plea, every desperate, breathless, “Paige, please.”

And, oh, do you give it to her.

Paige groans at the way you say her name, like she can feel it straight between her legs, like it’s fueling her. Her fingers keep working you open, hitting every spot like she knows your body better than her own, because truthfully, she does. She’s mapped you out a hundred times before, but never like this, never this drunk, never with the high of being number one mixing with the high of you.

“That’s my girl,” she praises, watching the way her fingers disappear in and out with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Look so pretty takin’ it, baby. Knew you would.”

You tremble, a moan breaking past your lips, and Paige just grins, like she’s putting on another show, something like the one she just left from. But this one? This one is just for her.

“Almost there?”

You nod frantically, nails digging at her wrist, trying to keep yourself together—but fuck is it hard when she’s all over you like this. She speeds up just a little, the wet sounds of her digits working you over and making your cheeks burn, but Paige loves it. She leans in, licks up the side of your neck, tasting the wreckage.

“Paige,” you pant, eyes fluttering.

“Say it again,” she rasps, her forehead pressed to the side of yours now, her fingers still moving, hips subtly grinding against nothing, like she’s as desperate as you are.

“Paige,” you whimper, and you wish you could say it was voluntary. “I—”

You don’t even get the chance to finish, because Paige presses down on your stomach again, just right, and your whole body reacts—clenching around her fingers, thighs twitching like she just stole every bit of your sanity. You really think she might’ve. Maybe she’s been taking from you this entire night—the air in your lungs, the thoughts from your head, the control you thought you had.

“Yeah, I know,” she talks you through it, lips brushing against your temple, her fingers still working, still curling inside you, playing you like a highlight reel. “Go ‘head, ma. Give it to me.”

Your release crashes into you, body locking up before breaking apart, your moan swallowed by Paige’s mouth as she kisses all of it out of you, eating up every last sound like she needs it, like she wants it dripping down her chin. Her fingers never stop moving, making sure you know she did this to you.

She pulls away with a bite of your lip, savoring the remnants of her own name on your tongue, and for a second, you think she’ll let you breathe, let you come down from the high she just sent you to.

But then she shifts against you the same way she’d been doing all night, grinds her hips up into nothing, and you feel it.

Paige Bueckers, all six feet of her, usually so composed, the one who calls the shots in bed and most of the time out of it—is crumbling for you now, fists gripping at the leather seat like she’s barely holding on.

Your fingers slide down slowly at the realization, popping open her belt, then her slacks, pushing them down just enough to expose the waistband of her boxers.

All you need is five minutes.

So you move. Drop to your knees right between hers, push her legs wider as you settle between them, dragging your palms up her thighs when she breathes out your name in her gravelly Minnesota accent. You let your nails creep up under her shirt, scratching lightly against her lower stomach. Too much teasing for the blonde, not enough mouth.

Paige growls, actually growls, and before you can blink, she grabs your wrist, pressing your hand right over her, rolling her hips into your palm. “Ain’t in the mood for allat,” she mumbles, jaw clenched, pupils dilated. “You know what the fuck I want, baby. Stop stallin’.”

You listen.

Partly because she’s just had the biggest night of her life, the kind of night people dream about. Winning a National Championship just a few weeks prior to getting your name called first for the draft, becoming the face of a franchise, name solidified in history. She worked her ass off for it too, and tonight? Tonight, she made it.

So you listen. You don’t stall, and you swear you hear the music get louder again—like the driver knows exactly what’s about to happen.

The minute you start mouthing at her, you can feel her muscles jump under your lips. Paige inhales, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, rubbing at your skin. The limo rocks slightly, the bass from the speakers rattling through your ribcage, but none of that matters. The only thing you care about is the way Paige is falling apart in your mouth.

She tries to hold out, tries to keep it together, but the way her thighs twitch when your tongue moves just right? The way she shudders when you suck?

“Fuck,” she groans finally, head tipping back, body lunging upward on instinct.

And she loses it.

Because Paige has never been one to sit back and just take it.

Her hips start moving, rolling into your mouth, and you let her, let her use you, let her chase what she needs because you need it too—the way she sounds, the way she tastes, the way her legs start to tremble, thighs pressing against your cheeks and smudging your makeup because she can’t help it.

She’s ruined and a little helpless, mumbling half formed curses and praises that don’t even make sense. You swear you could come again just by listening. “Been needin’ you all night. Keep doin’ that.”

She rides it out while your tongue works in circles, fingers digging into her thighs to keep her there even though she can’t be still, her body shaking along with her hands that can’t decide whether to pull you closer or push you away.

You flatten your tongue, holding her down a little rougher when she bucks up against your mouth. She’s so close, right there, her body trying to outrun her own orgasm, but you don’t stop.

“Please—please, baby—feels s’good,” she whines, her fingers tugging at your hair just the way she knows you love, hips stuttering, moans guttural. “Just like that—don’t stop, don’t—”

She chokes on her next breath, her body breaking just like yours did, just like she’s so deserving of.

And when she finally slumps back against the seat, spent, her chest still heaving, her thumb lazily stroking over your cheek, she grins down at you, tired, satisfied, definitely not ready for the whatever afterparty diorama is waiting for her like a coronation.

“Yeah,” she breathes, licking her lips as she pulls you back up into her lap, kissing you like she could go another round, tongue sweeping into your mouth to taste herself.

“Number one pick, baby,” she slurs. “How that sound?”

Like trouble. Like a whole dynasty in the making. Like she’s already on top of the world, and somehow, that ain’t high enough.

You giggle, pressing her cheeks between your fingers as you peck at her lips. “Fucking great. How’s it feel?”

“Feel like I could do this all night,” she mumbles, hips rocking up into you, her need reigniting just like that. She masks it as a slight shift, but you know better. “What about you? Think you got another one in you?”

Like she even needs to ask.

[my-castles-crumbling]

dramatic - jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 470

“I think we need to tell him,” Sirius said, sitting on his bed and looking at Remus, who was doing some essay or another. “It’s getting a bit ridiculous.”

“Ah, but it’s quite fun watching him think he’s being slick,” Remus grinned, making Sirius’s knees go a bit weak. “Just a bit longer?”

“Nah, because the longer I wait, the more dramatic he’ll be,” Sirius replied, ignoring Remus’s little coughing snort that sounded a lot like ‘hypocrite.’ 

As if summoned, James chose that moment to enter the room, face bright red and hair in disarray. Sirius chose not to think about how that occurred.

“Hi, mates!” James nearly-yelled, a grin on his face. “Just been….out on a walk! Completely alone, of course!”

“Of course,” Remus nodded solemnly, sending Sirius a little smirk.

“We–I,” James corrected himself, beginning to blush, “saw some cool constellations. It was fun.”

“You went for a walk by yourself to look at the stars?” Sirius deadpanned, looking back at Remus.

Remus, however, gave a devilish grin.  “You’ve really become interested in Astronomy lately, Prongs. You should talk to Sirius’s brother about it. He’s really interested in it, too.”

James dropped the book he’d picked up, which landed painfully on his toe. “Ouch!” he screeched, kicking his foot a bit and sitting on his bed, face screwed up in pain. “I–I didn’t know that!” he gasped, eyes full of comically forced innocence and a few tears of pain. He turned to Sirius. “Your brother, Regulus?”

“That’s the only brother I have, yeah,” Sirius replied, gazing at his best friend with something close to pity. 

“Maybe I’ll ask him. Because I haven’t already. That would be weird!” James replied, nodding so rapidly he looked like a dog trying to rid his ears of water. 

“Yeah, weird,” Remus replied, voice wavering with repressed laughter. 

“So you said you were by yourself…” Sirius continued, causing James to jump dramatically. 

“Yes, of course! Who would I be with? Regulus? Ha! That would be hilarious…” he said, blushing.

“Hilarious,” Sirius replied in a flat voice. “It’s just, you almost look like you’ve been snogging someone. Your hair’s all messed up, and I think there’s a mark on your neck.”

He watched, amused, as James choked on his own spit. “Snogging? No! Not me!” he replied, laughing slightly-hysterically. “I just…burnt myself. In class today.”

“Ah. That’s very easy to do in History of Magic,” Remus nodded sagely, grinning widely now.

James froze, looking back and forth between the two of them for a few tense seconds before standing. “I’m gonna shower,” he mumbled, limping off to the bathroom.

When the door closed, Sirius groaned, laying back in his bed. “He’s so pathetic.”

“Imagine how he’ll be when he can freely wax poetic about your little brother,” Remus responded, snorting.

Sirius gagged in response.

[y2kstarr]

Chris just can't keep his hands to himself

࣪˖ ִ⭑ ࣪ warnings : 18+, smut w/o plot, fingering, (eventually) getting caught, dirty talk

When Chris had complimented you in your new, pretty sundress, teasing that he'd totally find a way to finger you with the much easier access, you didn't think he'd be stupid enough to do it in the worst fucking place imaginable.

Of course, you thought wrong.

Different seating arrangements were made to accommodate Nick's comfort, leaving you and Chris to sit in the back of the car whilst Matt and Nick chatted away with one another to the camera upfront, making a new car video for the channel.

At some point, you and Chris had turned quiet, instead letting Matt and Nick talk about anything they were wanting to share with the camera. In the silence from the backseats, you hear nails gently scrape against something, making your eyes glance over at Chris's hand and feeling your breath stutter just for a moment.

His three fingers were hooked in the cup holder at the back of the console box, pinky on the outside of it as his thumb pressed on the back of it. His ring glinted on his index finger, his middle and ring fingers flexing and twitching a bit within the cup holder.

Your traitorous brain pictured those long fingers somewhere else, stroking and pumping between your thighs rather than just fidgeting on their own, but you tried to clean you mind of those thoughts, lifting your gaze to look at Chris... only to be met with his pretty blue eyes already surveying you.

A playfully, mischievous little smirk curled at the corners of his lips before he raised his eyebrows, as if silently asking you for something, and oh, you knew exactly what that something was.

You mouthed a silent "no" to him, as if that was crazy for him to even think about doing. But god damnit, your blushing cheeks and pressed together thighs were all Chris needed to unhook his fingers from that cup holder.

Thick, long fingers now found their way sliding into your cunt with ease, his hand as hidden as he could get it underneath the skirt of your dress. Your lips now held bite marks as his fingers slowly pumped in and out, thankfully any quiet sounds muffled by Matt and Nick conversing.

"So wet f' me, ma," Chris cooed quietly in your ear, loving the way you had to physically hold yourself back from making noises, a mean smirk on his lips as he curled his fingers just right to hit that sweet spot for you.

You quickly turned your head away from him, burying your mouth into your palm, sealing your lips closed as blush tinted your cheeks and the tips of your ears due to a slight whine escaping from your throat, only to be muffled against your skin.

Pleasure burned between your thighs and within your tummy, your free hand starting to grip the fabric of your skirt hard as Chris picked up speed a bit. Your heart raced at the risk of his brothers turning to look back at you two, a gut feeling of adrenaline and nerves mixing into one as your knee jerked.

"So anxious, ma, it's cool," Chris assured your thoughts, whispering into your ear once more before pressing a kiss to that spot right underneath your ear, your eyes fluttering just a bit. "They ain't gonna know.."

But what if they did? What if Nick turned his head just a few more angles? What if Matt glanced in the rearview mirror? What if their conversation stopped and the noises spilled without you being able to hold them back?

Nerves sparked like loose wires, you didn't even realize Nick was outroing the video, your body tensing with pleasure and fear at the same time as he grabbed the camera and tilted it down, turning it off.

Chris's fingers curled once more, in an almost teasing manner with the silence, that growing knot in your stomach tightening, your fingers nearly turning white as you internally begged yourself not to cum yet, please not yet-

It was as if the gods were finally in your favor.

Matt quickly made his way out of the driver's seat with the reason being he had to piss bad, and Nick too busy with packing the camera back into his bag at his feet to even look back. You jolted for a moment as Nick questioned you both, asking if you were getting out or not, your face burning hot as you tried to stumble out words.

"W–we uh—"

"Yeah, in a minute, dropped my phone back here," Chris answered instead with such ease, as if his fingers weren't knuckle deep in your pussy right now. You finally let go of your breath as Nick needed no more explanation before huffing and getting out of the car, finally going inside and leaving the two of you out in the garage.

"Told you they wouldn't find out," Chris chuckled next to you, finally turning his body a bit more. God you wanted to hit him and scold him so bad right now, the fucking asshole– but all that came out of your mouth was a whine that had been held back for far too long.

He grinned like a damn kid in a candy shop as his fingers picked up speed, the noises of your soaked cunt starting to become audible, mixing with your quickening breaths and moans, and fuck, it was hot.

"S–shit— Chris—" Your hand, previous on your mouth, gripped the car door armrest tight, your other moving from the skirt of your dress to his forearm, your nails digging crescent shapes into his skin.

"Gonna cum, mama?" He teased against your cheek, making you feel pressed up against the door as you whimpered and nodded your head, before letting it fall back against the headrest. A mewl poured from your mouth as his thumb began drawing circles against your clit, the added stimulation making your thighs start to tremble.

"Soak my fingers, baby, c'mon–" He nearly groaned in your ear, his fingers keeping up a heavenly pace as that knot tightened harder and harder within you, your chest heaving with pants, until Chris's name fell from your parted lips in a choke moan.

Pure, delicious pleasure crashed over you as you gushed around his fingers, back arching from the seat, your thighs clenching around his hand as his fingers just kept pumping, sweet praises whispered in your ear nearly muffled from the intense orgasm.

Your body finally fell slack against the leather, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths as Chris finally slowed down his fingers for you, pressing kisses all over your face like some affectionate puppy, your earlier anger washing away to adoration as you weakly giggled.

"Need to get you more dresses, so fuckin' pretty and accessible," He cheesed against your forehead before gently slipping his fingers from your spent cunt, pressing his lips to yours before licking his fingers clean.

Later...

You and Chris chilled out in his room, the both of you watching some random movie, when suddenly you'd heard Nick's voice booming from his room.

"YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING GROSS!"

It didn't take you long to piece together that he was probably editing the video right now and had seen their backseat shenanigans, your face flushing with blush out of pure embarrassment.

You wanted to absolutely die, disappear out of thin air right then and there, but suddenly you heard Chris next to you, making you glance over at him just to see him holding back a laugh, which earned him a slap to his chest, his loud laugh finally pouring out shamelessly like it was the funniest thing in the world.

God damnit, you hated him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

a / n : since @brookheartsmatt asked so nicely 😋

i dunno if i like how this turned out, im sorryyy 😭 regardless i hope you guys like it

based off of this clip i need him to finger me BAD

tags : @sillysillymatt, @jcsturniolo11, @strnilolover, @whore4mattsturniolo, @courta13, @sophand4n4, @blueboeh444, @mattspinkiefinger, @theyluvivi, @thecrawlys, @k4urltzx, @chrislova, @fadedstvrn, @emely9274, @raesturns

dividers → me

[passengerxseat]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ NSFW / Pathetic childhood bestfriend!Mark Grayson headcanons :

• Pathetic Mark Grayson who cries at you for sex, he cries and cries hugging your legs until he hears that “Ok fine!”

• Pathetic Mark Grayson who literally suggest to do stuff that he sees in porn videos.

• Pathetic Mark Grayson who can’t last much when you wrap your lips around his dick.

• Pathetic Mark Grayson who begs to try unprotected sex because he saw somewhere that it feels better; You let him hit it raw and he did not last, what a surprise. He couldn’t stop saying “Fuck! S-sorry—Sorry—Sorry” as he watched his cum drip from your cunt.

• Pathetic Mark Grayson who was a bit too eager to clean up with his toungue the mess he made on you.

• Pathetic Mark Grayson that gets so pussy drunk he makes a mess of your sheets and can’t stop mumbling sweet praises as he eats you out.

• Pathetic Mark Grayson that often lets you take the lead in sex because he can’t.

• Pathetic Mark Grayson that cannot handle when you don’t let him cum just yet, he cries every time.

• Pathetic Mark Grayson who thanks you everytime you indulge him and let him get his way with you.

[hyuckiefluff]

Flipped Pt. 2 | Mark Lee

pairing: gryffindor!mark lee x slytherin!fem.reader genre: smut summary: the first time you met mark lee, you flipped his world upside down— literally. seven years later and after countless attempts to avoid you, you're still driving him insane. except now, it’s for an entirely different reason. wc: 6.3k+ cw: explicit content, cursing, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, semi-public sexual acts, oral (fem receiving) a/n: hi!! this is a continuation to my hogwarts au, so please read part one before checking this out <3 I originally wasn't even planning on adding any smut to this fic, and I think it works well without it, but still, a little smut is always a good bonus so here it is! enjoy!

By the time your seventh year rolled around, you and Mark felt like two halves of the same whole. You spent nearly every possible hour together and most of it was sweet and wholesome. He’d sit with you in the greenhouse while you tended to your plants, pretending to be helpful but mostly just watching you with this lovesick look on his face. Or sitting beside you in the library when you worked on assignments, though he hardly ever got any studying done himself. Or at the Quidditch games, where he’d celebrate his wins by flying over the stands and swooping down to kiss you.

But there were also the other moments. The ones where you simply couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Most of your prefect shifts ended in heated makeout sessions behind the statue of the one eyed witch on the third floor. Or tucked away in the Astronomy Tower when everyone else was asleep. Or in the dark staircase leading to the dungeons, pressed against the cold stone wall with his hands roaming your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair. You two found a way to use any place that offered even a little privacy.

And it was getting harder and harder to stop once you started.

You could feel the way his kisses were getting hungrier. Like that time when his hands slid under your robes during Charms class. Or the time in the greenhouse when he kissed you so deeply his knee had ended up between your legs, and you’d gasped, clutching at his robes before hastily pulling away.

And last time things almost went too far.

You’d been tucked in a hidden alcove near the Transfiguration classroom, his back against the stone wall, your body pressed firmly against his as his mouth moved feverishly against yours. His hand had slipped beneath your robes, skimming up your thigh, and before you even realized it, he was fumbling with the buttons of your uniform. His breath was heavy, and you could feel how badly he wanted you, his hands trembling slightly as he tugged at your clothes.

“Wait—” you gasped, grabbing his wrist.

Mark froze immediately, his face paling like he’d done something horribly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to” he pulled his hands back “I wasn’t trying to push you or—”

“No, it’s not—” you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat still simmering in your stomach. “It’s not that I don’t want to… I do. It’s just…”

Mark watched you carefully, still looking wrecked with guilt. “…Just what?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t… I don’t have any experience with this. I’ve never…I mean, I’ve kissed people before but not like… that. Or… y-you know.”

It took Mark a moment to process what you were saying. Then his face softened immediately, his brows knitting with so much tenderness it almost made you cry.

“Hey, that’s okay” he breathed, pulling you closer again but gentler this time. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You felt your face burn. “I don’t know… I guess I was embarrassed. I thought you’d expect me to…”

“I don’t,” Mark cut you off gently, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I swear. I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. I just… I get carried away sometimes because I really, really like you. But you can tell me to stop anytime, okay?”

“Really?”

“Really,” he promised. Then he nudged your nose with his, grinning cheekily. “Besides… I think it’s kinda cute you’ve never done any of that before.”

You swatted his arm, groaning. “Oh my god, Mark.”

He just laughed, pulling you back in for another kiss.

Later that night, you were curled up in the common room with Karina when the question came bursting out of you like word vomit.

“How does sex feel like?”

Karina choked on her pumpkin juice, coughing violently as her eyes practically popped out of her skull.

“I’m sorry— what?” she spluttered, whipping her head toward you like you’d just grown a second head.

“Like… is it painful at first?” you pressed on, your face heating up. “I imagine it is. It probably depends on the… y’know… size. I mean, I read about it in a Muggle book back home but it was mostly about conception, not really the experience itself, so I—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold it.” Karina held up a hand, looking half-horrified and half-amused. “Where is this coming from… Since when are you so curious about sex?”

“Rina, I’m seventeen.... almost eighteen. It’s perfectly normal for me to start being curious about these things.”

“Oh, so it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you spend every free period snogging the Gryffindor Seeker?”

“Keep your voice down!” you hissed, glancing around the room.

“What?” Karina giggled. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know. I think half the school’s caught you guys in the corridors by now”

You groaned loudly, covering your burning face with your hands. “Forget I ever asked.”

“Oh no, no, no. You can’t just drop a bomb like that and then back out—”

Before you could beg her to drop it, Haechan strolled into the common room in his Quidditch uniform, hair damp with sweat, looking like he’d just finished practice. His eyes immediately landed on the two of you  and of course, he caught the tail end of Karina’s cackling.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, flopping onto the couch next to you.

Karina turned to him, grinning like the devil. “Oh, nothing. Our sweet, innocent little Y/N here just wants to know what sex feels like.”

“Karina!” you shrieked, whipping around to glare at her as she howled with laughter.

Haechan’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?” He turned to you, scandalized. “You—? You wanna know about... holy shit…”

“Oh my God, stop,” you groaned.

Haechan’s face split into a wicked grin. “Ohhh, I’m so telling him you’re asking about this—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Why not? I think he’d love to know that his girlfriend’s getting all hot and bothered thinking about—”

“Haechan!”

“I’m kidding!” he laughed, hands raised in surrender. “But seriously. What exactly do you wanna know, huh? Like… the logistics of it? Or do you just wanna know if Mark’s packing—”

You lunged at him with the pillow. “I swear...”

“Alright, alright!” he howled, practically collapsing onto the floor in laughter as you rained down pillow smacks. “I’m just saying, if you want details, I’m right here—”

“Absolutely not.”

Haechan, despite his teasing and borderline inappropriate comments, was surprisingly chill about Mark and you. You had made it clear months ago that you had no romantic feelings for him. He’d taken it well, saying he saw it coming, and from that moment on, he treated you just like he would anyone else. He even became close friends with Mark, realizing he had more things in common with the seeker than he initially thought.

Karina, still crying from laughter, gasped, “Oh my God, you should ask Mark yourself. See how he reacts.”

You froze, mortified. “Are you insane? I’m not asking Mark what sex feels like!”

“Why not?” Haechan snickered, finally pulling himself back onto the couch. “It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it already. Honestly, I’m shocked you two haven’t done it yet, considering how often we catch you practically shagging in the corridors.”

“We do not!”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “You two make the entire school feel single.”

You groaned, absolutely done with this conversation. “I hate both of you.”

“But seriously. If you’re curious, just… talk to him about it. He’ll probably combust on the spot, but he’ll definitely be honest with you.” Karina suggested.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar.

…Yeah. Like that conversation wouldn’t end with you both tearing each other’s clothes off.

Mark was in the Gryffindor locker room, gulping down water after finishing practice, when Peeves suddenly popped up right in front of him with a loud "Boo!"

He flinched, nearly choking on his water and dropping the bottle to the floor.

“Peeves, what the hell!” Mark coughed, clutching his chest as the poltergeist erupted into a fit of maniacal laughter, floating circles around him.

“What do you want?” Mark huffed, yanking off his gloves. He was the last one in the locker room since he stayed behind to practice a little longer for the upcoming match.

“Ooh, Peeves has a message for you! A juicy little message about your pretty girl!” Peeves sing-songed, grinning mischievously.

Mark froze mid-motion. “Y/N? What about her?”

“She’s in the prefect’s bathroom right now, calling out for you!” Peeves giggled.

Mark furrowed his brows, confused. “Why would she be looking for me there? I’m not a prefect, I can’t even go in there.”

Peeves simply shrugged dramatically, floating upside down. “Peeves is just telling you what Peeves saw! Go, don’t go, who cares! But your pretty girl seemed awfully eager to see you…” he teased before disappearing with a loud pop.

Mark stood there for a second, his heart suddenly hammering. Were you really asking for him in the prefect’s bathroom? That made no sense. But if Peeves was telling the truth… 

“Shit,” Mark muttered, quickly tossing his gloves aside and hurrying out of the locker room.

He knew Peeves wasn’t exactly known for being helpful, but what if this time he was actually being serious? Mark’s gut twisted at the thought of you upset or needing him for something.

When he reached the entrance to the prefect bathroom, he hesitated. He wasn’t supposed to be here— it was strictly for prefects and Quidditch captains— but he couldn't just walk away if you were inside asking for him. With a deep breath, he gripped the handle and pushed… but the door didn’t budge.

Mark cursed under his breath. Of course, there was a password.

He racked his brain, trying to remember if you’d ever mentioned it. But you’d never told him the password. Why would you? He wasn’t a prefect, so he had no business knowing it.

“Think, think, think,” Mark muttered to himself, glancing up and down the corridor to make sure no one was around to catch him. Then he remembered that Jaehyun, the Gryffindor team captain, also had access to the bathroom. Mark recalled how he had once bragged about how nice it was, especially with the giant bath and fancy soaps. He’d also, at some point, mentioned the password in passing. What was it again? Pine something…?

“Pinewood?” Mark tried hesitantly, his wand out.

Nothing.

He groaned and ran a hand through his damp hair, his nerves bubbling up again. Peeves had said you were in there looking for him. What if you were hurt or crying, and he was just standing out here like an idiot?

“Pineapple? No, that’s stupid. Pine scent?” Mark paced in front of the door, feeling his frustration rise. He was about to give up when it finally hit him.

“Pine Fresh,” Mark said, his wand raised with more confidence this time.

A soft click echoed from the door, and Mark felt it give under his touch. His heart thudded in his chest as he pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was warm and steamy, the faint smell of soap and fresh water filling the air. Massive white marble walls surrounded a pool-sized bathtub filled with shimmering water.

“Y/N?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly.

Silence.

Mark’s brows furrowed. His stomach sank. The room looked empty like you’d never been here at all. His gut twisted as he realized Peeves’d probably just duped him. That little poltergeist lived for messing with students, and Mark had fallen for it like an idiot. He was about to turn and leave when—

“Mark?”

His head snapped around, his heart leaping to his throat.

You were there.

You were sitting against one of the walls, your legs curled up to your chest, looking small and anxious. Your face was a little flushed, though Mark wasn’t sure if it was from the steam in the room or something else. The second you locked eyes with him, relief flooded your features.

“Oh my god, you are here,” you breathed. You scrambled to stand, your socks slipping slightly on the wet tiles as you rushed toward him.

“Wait, wha... what’s going on? Are you okay?” Mark asked quickly, meeting you halfway. His hands instinctively went to your arms, his concern spiking when he realized how clammy your skin felt. “Why did Peeves say you were asking for me?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, your teeth catching your bottom lip nervously. Mark watched as your gaze darted around the room like you were trying to muster up the courage to speak.

“I…” You swallowed thickly. “I didn’t actually ask for you. I mean... not out loud. I just- I was in here thinking and I really, really wanted you here. And then Peeves showed up and I think he just… I don’t know, sensed it or something and—”

Mark’s stomach did a little flip. You were thinking about him so intensely that Peeves picked up on it?

“Wait, wait.... slow down,” Mark said gently, his thumbs rubbing circles on your arms. “Why did you want me here? What’s wrong?”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, you almost looked embarrassed. “I… I need to talk to you about something. I didn’t know how to say it and I—”

“Hey, hey,” Mark interrupted softly, his hand tilting your chin to look at him. “It’s okay. I’m here"

You took a shaky breath, and then  “I want to do it.”

Mark blinked. “…Do what?”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you averted your gaze, suddenly looking incredibly nervous. “Hey, it’s okay. Just tell me,” he urged softly.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering back up to his wide, shiny, and filled with something he couldn’t quite place. But it stole the breath straight out of his lungs. Suddenly, you rose onto your tiptoes and kissed him.

It wasn’t like your usual kisses. It was deep and desperate, your fingers curling into the fabric of his Quidditch robes tightly. Mark instantly kissed you back, his hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you there. But just as his head started to spin from how good it felt, you broke away and before he could even ask what was going on, you blurted it out.

“I want to have sex with you, Mark.”

He felt his entire body stiffen as his eyes snapped open, sure he had misheard you or that you were joking, or that Peeves had somehow cursed his ears. But the look on your face was anything but playful.

You were serious.

“W-what?” Mark croaked, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

Your face flushed, but you didn’t back down. You held his wide-eyed gaze, your hands now clenching into fists at your sides. “I… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And I know we’ve never really talked about it or anything, but I just—” You swallowed hard. “I want you. I really want you.”

Mark’s brain was malfunctioning. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again like a complete idiot. “You mean like… like now?” he stammered, his voice embarrassingly high.

“I mean if you want to,” you rushed out. “We don’t have to. I just… I don’t know. I thought about it and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it and… and I didn’t know how to bring it up so I just—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mark interrupted, his hands shooting up like he was trying to slow down time itself. His pulse was roaring in his ears. “You seriously, like, actually want to…?”

“Have sex with you?” you finished bluntly, your voice small but certain. “Yes.”

Mark swore he nearly passed out.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed, running a hand down his face. “Are you…I mean, not that I don’t want to, but are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, your voice shaking a little. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life, Mark. I just… I think about you all the time. And not just like—” You gestured wildly, your face burning. “not just like normal thinking about you. I mean like thinking about you. Like in ways that make me—”

Mark made a strangled noise in his throat. “Holy fuck.”

You groaned, covering your face in embarrassment. “Oh my god, this is so humiliating”

“No, no! It’s not! It’s hot,” Mark blurted without thinking. “I mean… it’s not embarrassing. Like at all. I’m just... wow.” He paced back a step like he was trying to physically process this information. “You’ve been thinking about it?”

“Yes,” you practically cried. “For months.”

Mark clutched his chest. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“So you… you’d want to?” you asked quietly, watching him carefully.

Mark let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-disbelieving wheeze. “Angel, if I knew you’ve been wanting this for months we would’ve done it a million times by now.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Are you kidding me?” Mark choked. His face was practically glowing red now. “I’ve been... I’ve wanted you like that since forever. I just didn’t want to push you or make you uncomfortable or— oh my god.” His hands flew to his hair like he was about to rip it out. “You actually want to?”

“Yes, Mark!” you laughed, still flushed. “I literally just said that.”

“And you mean like right now?”

You hesitated for half a second, then took a deep, shaky breath. “If you want to.”

Mark stared at you. Then his gaze dropped to your lips, and then lower, and then—

“Holy shit.”

And then he was kissing you again. Harder, more desperate, like the floodgates had finally burst open and he couldn’t get enough. His hands found your waist, gripping you tight as he walked you backward until the small of your back hit the marble edge of the enormous bathtub. You gasped into his mouth, and Mark swallowed the sound like he was starved for it.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he groaned between kisses. His fingers splayed against your waist, digging in like he was trying to anchor himself. “Like, stupid thoughts.... Constantly. Every time we’re alone together I just—”

“Me too,” you panted, tugging his sweater up slightly so you could touch his skin. “Every time you so much as look at me, I just... god, Mark.”

“Fuck,” Mark cursed, his teeth catching your bottom lip as he kissed you even deeper. “You’re gonna kill me.”

And Merlin help him—he was ready to let you.

Mark yanked your robes off in one swift motion, his touch eager but careful, like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. Your vest followed just as quickly, and when his fingers made quick work of the buttons on your shirt, you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. He was so quick like he knew what he was doing, and for a fleeting, horrible moment, you wondered how many times he’d done this before. 

...Had he done it with Mia?

Your stomach dropped and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the thought away. Not now. You were not about to ruin this for yourself by thinking about that. Not when Mark was kissing you like his life depended on it, not when his hands were brushing over your skin like he needed to touch you.

And Merlin, his mouth felt so good. Soft and warm, his tongue curling against yours as his hands ghosted over your waist. Your shirt was completely open now, hanging loosely off your shoulders, and you barely had a second to feel self-conscious before Mark was already tugging it off.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice strained. “You’re so—” His words trailed off into a low exhale as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze devouring every inch of exposed skin.

Heat rushed to your face. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Mark asked, his voice rough.

“Like you’ve never seen a girl in a bra before.” You tried to sound playful, but your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

Mark let out a breathless laugh, his hands finding your waist. “I haven’t. Not like this. Not you.”

Oh.

Your stomach flipped violently.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it because you were already tugging at his uniform, desperate to get him equally undressed. His Quidditch robes were a nightmare to get off, heavy and tangled around his feet, and you couldn’t help but giggle when he nearly tripped trying to kick them off.

“Sorry— sorry, fuck,” Mark laughed breathlessly, finally ripping the damn thing off and tossing it aside. His sweater followed, and then you were tugging at his tie, trying to loosen it enough to get it over his head.

“Why is your uniform so complicated?” you grumbled, your hands fumbling.

“Tell me about it,” Mark huffed, yanking the tie off himself and tossing it somewhere behind him. You barely had a second to catch your breath before his hands were on your waist again, pulling you flush against his bare chest.

And oh my god.

Your mouth ran dry. His skin was burning hot, still slightly damp from Quidditch practice, and his lean frame was ridiculous. The toned muscles of his stomach, the sharp lines of his collarbones, the veins running down his forearms. You couldn’t stop staring.

“Holy shit,” you breathed without thinking.

Mark blinked. “…What?”

“You’re, like… really fit,” you admitted, your face heating up.

Mark stared at you for half a second, and then he laughed a nervous, slightly disbelieving sound. “What? No, I’m not—”

“Mark,” you cut him off, your eyes still glued to his chest. “Yes, you are. Do you even realize how many girls at Hogwarts talk about you?”

He looked scandalized. “What?”

You laughed, your hands running over his sides just to feel him. “I’m serious ‘Hot Seeker Mark Lee.’”

Mark actually choked. “Stop— what the fuck”

“You think I’m joking?” you teased, loving how red his face was getting. “Girls love you.”

Mark groaned, his head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder. “Oh my god, stop. I’m literally trying to hold back right now and you’re—”

“Hold back?” you laughed breathlessly. “Why?”

He lifted his head, and the look on his face was almost pained. His gaze dropped to your chest, to the lacy black bra you hadn’t exactly planned for him to see, and then back to your face. “Because if I don’t, I’m gonna, like—” He swallowed hard. “I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

Heat flared in your stomach.

“Then lose it,” you whispered against his lips.

The second the words left your mouth he crashed his lips back to yours, messier this time. His hands gripped your waist and he pushed you even closer. Your legs instantly parted to make room for him, and he stepped between them, pressing his erection against your core.

“Mark,” you gasped, your brain short-circuiting. “Your pants—”

“Oh, right” Mark breathed, realizing he was still half-dressed. His hands fumbled with his belt, but his fingers were clumsy from how badly he was shaking. “Fuck, can you—?”

“Yeah, I got it,” you said quickly, reaching down to unbuckle it yourself. Your hands brushed against the prominent bulge in his pants, and Mark whimpered. 

You froze. “Did you just...?”

“Don’t,” Mark groaned, his head dropping onto your shoulder again. “I’m barely hanging on right now, please don’t.”

You bit back a laugh. “You’re so cute.”

“Agh, stop laughing” Mark whined, his face burning.

“Sorry, sorry,” you giggled, finally managing to unfasten his belt and push his pants down his legs. They pooled around his ankles, and Mark practically kicked them off in desperation. Now you were both down to your underwear, and the sight of the outline of his arousal straining against his boxers made your mouth water.

And apparently, Mark was having the same reaction because his eyes were glued to you. His chest heaved, his jaw slack, his gaze devouring every inch of bare skin like he couldn’t believe it was in front of him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Your smiled shyly. “You think so?”

“Do I think so?” He exhaled sharply, his hands skimming over your bare thighs. “Angel, I’ve literally had dreams about you. Fantasies. Every time I see you in those stupid little skirts—” He broke off, his hands gripping your waist tighter and pushing you impossibly closer.

Mark’s gaze snapped to yours, and you swore his pupils somehow dilated even more.

“Can I touch you?” you both blurted at the same time, and then immediately burst into breathless laughter.

“Jesus—” Mark groaned, his head dropping as he laughed. “We’re such losers.”

“Losers who are about to have sex,” you reminded him, grinning.

Mark laughed harder, but his amusement quickly dissolved into something primal when his hands slid up your thighs again, fingertips skimming dangerously high.

“…Please,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

Mark’s hands were shaking slightly as he tugged at your panties. Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt him start to pull them down, and for a moment, you almost closed your legs instinctively, but his gaze was full of a hunger and a kind of desperate focus that made you feel weak in the knees.

He paused for a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise, pretty girl,” he whispered, the words low and heavy.

You felt your pulse quicken at his words, the rush of heat between your thighs making everything feel too much, but all you could do was nod. You had no idea what you were doing, but the need to have him all over you was enough to make you forget any uncertainty.

With one last look to make sure you were okay with this, he dropped to his knees and dove between your thighs. You gasped, your legs trembling as his tongue licked a long, clean stripe up your already wet core. It felt too good, too overwhelming, and your hands scrambled to grip at his hair as his mouth moved over you, sucking on your clit with a fervor that made your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my God, Mark,” you moaned, your body involuntarily trying to press closer to him. Hehummed against you, his hands caressing your thighs.

His mouth wasn’t slowing, even when your thighs tried to squeeze around him. Every flick of his tongue made you feel like you were floating and falling all at once. You couldn’t help the moans that kept escaping you, the tightness in your stomach that was building up with each second.

Your breathing was erratic, and your body was trembling from the pleasure, all you could think about was how badly you needed him—how badly you needed to feel more of him.

“Mark… please,” you whimpered, but you didn’t need to say anything more. He knew exactly what you wanted.

His hands gripped your thighs tighter as his tongue continued its delicious work. You were already so close, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each second.

The pleasure built slowly at first, a steady, insistent warmth curling in the pit of your stomach. It coiled tighter and tighter with every flick of Mark’s tongue, every soft hum that vibrated against you. Your fingers clutched at his hair, unsure whether you wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

It was too much, too intense, and yet you couldn’t stop chasing it. The sensation crackled through you like static, lighting up every nerve in your body, making your breaths come in short, desperate gasps.

Then—something inside you snapped.

Your body tensed, your legs trembling as a strangled moan tore from your lips. You had never felt anything like this before—like you were shattering and unraveling all at once, floating somewhere between pleasure and something dangerously close to madness.

Mark didn’t stop. He kept his mouth on you and his hands firm on your thighs while you trembled through the aftershocks. Your body twitched, hypersensitive. He only pulled back when you gasped out his name in a broken plea. His lips were glistening, his eyes blown wide with awe and the sight was almost sinful.

You pulled him to you, crashing your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groaned into your mouth, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass, pulling you impossibly closer. It wasn’t until you felt him—hot, heavy, bare against you—that you realized at some point his boxers had come off too.

The realization made your breath hitch, and when you pulled back slightly to look down, your stomach clenched.

Oh.

You’d never seen him naked like this before. You’d imagined it, sure, but now that he was here completely bare in front of you, flushed from head to toe, his cock hard and pressing against your slick folds; you felt a different kind of heat spread through you. He was beautiful. And big. Your throat went dry, your fingers twitching against his shoulders.

Mark must have noticed your sudden hesitation because he stilled, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. “You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown, his lips swollen, but there was something tender in the way he was looking at you—patient, waiting.

“I just…” You exhaled a shaky breath, fingers drifting tentatively down his torso, feeling the hard planes of his stomach. “You’re… um.” You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks.

Mark let out a breathless laugh, his hands smoothing over your waist. “Yeah?” His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, teasing. “What about me?”

You swallowed again, your eyes flickering back down. “You’re just… bigger than I thought.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and as soon as you realized what you’d said, you squeezed your eyes shut in mortification.

Mark choked out a laugh, his head dropping against your shoulder. “Jesus, Y/N,” he groaned, his hands flexing on your hips. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Ugh... sorry” You buried your face in his neck, burning from the inside out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

Mark pulled back slightly, tipping your chin up so you’d look at him again. His expression had softened, though his eyes still burned with desire. “You’re sure you still want this?” he asked, thumb brushing your cheek.

You took a deep breath, letting yourself take in the sight of him again—his flushed skin, the way he was holding himself back, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You nodded, heart pounding. “I want you, Mark.”

That was all it took.

Mark groaned, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands guided your hips, and you felt him rut against you, his cock sliding against your slick folds. The contact alone made you gasp into his mouth, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned, his voice breaking as he fought to keep himself together. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you, and he swallowed it like he was starving for more of you.

Your head was spinning and your body was still sensitive from your first orgasm, but the ache for all of him only grew more unbearable.

“Please, Mark… I need you,” you begged, your fingers gripping his biceps.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut trying to control himself, keeping in mind that you’d never done this before and he needed to be careful. But the way you were pleading for him made it nearly impossible.

“Shit—okay, okay, angel,” he promised, his voice cracking under the weight of his need. His hand slid between you, gripping himself at the base, and you gasped when you felt the hot, blunt tip press right against your entrance.

His breath caught. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded quickly, your chest heaving. “I will… just—please—”

And then he pushed in, slowly, carefully, like he was afraid you might break. The stretch burned, a sharp sting that made your breath hitch and your nails dig into his shoulders, but you didn’t ask him to stop. Mark’s face contorted, his brows furrowed like he was in pain just trying to hold himself back.

“Fuck…you’re so tight,” he gasped, his head dropping to your shoulder as he pushed in a little more. Your walls clenched around him involuntarily, and his whole body shuddered. “God, Y/N—”

“You’re so big, Mark,” you whimpered, your thighs shaking as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch.

“Angel, you’re doing so good,” Mark gritted out, his voice strained as he stilled inside you, trying to give you time to adjust. His fingers were digging into your waist like he was using all his strength to not start pounding into you. “Just tell me when, okay? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, your body slowly accommodating him. The sting soon melted into a dull ache, and the pleasure started creeping in. You rolled your hips experimentally, and the friction made you both groan. 

“I’m okay,” you breathed, your voice shaky but sure. “You can move.”

Mark let out the most wrecked sound you’d ever heard and then he did. He pulled out just a little before sinking back in, the drag of his thick length against your walls making you throw your head back against the tile. 

“Holy fuck,” Mark rasped, his grip on your ass tightening as he thrust into you again, a little deeper this time. “You feel so…so fucking good” 

The pace he started was slow but there was no mistaking the sheer desperation in his touch. And you were losing your mind. Every stroke made you gasp, the head of his cock brushing places you didn’t even know could feel that good, and the tension in your core was already building again. 

“Mark, faster...please,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. The ache had turned into pure bliss now, and you needed more of him. 

“Fuck…yeah, okay—” Mark practically growled, and his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming rougher. His hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

Your body jerked in reaction, your walls clenching down around him so tight it made his hips stutter. 

“Shit… do that again, baby. Please—” Mark begged, his voice cracking as he pounded into you harder. The sound of skin slapping filled the steamy bathroom, mixed with the high-pitched whines leaving your throat and the desperate grunts coming from Mark.

Your nails raked down his back and he hissed. “Mark… I’m—oh my god—I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me, angel,” Mark growled, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit, his thrusts losing rhythm. “Please—fuck—I need to feel you cum on my cock.”

And that was it. Your body tensed as the coil in your stomach snapped again. You sobbed his name, your walls clenching down so hard around him it made his hips falter. Mark cursed loudly, his thrusts growing erratic before he finally stilled inside you, his whole body shaking as his own orgasm ripped through him. 

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, his face buried in your neck as he came hard, his fingers bruising your hips as he emptied himself inside you. 

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the castle. Mark stayed inside you, his arms still trembling as he held you against him. 

“You okay?” he finally rasped, his voice hoarse and breathless. 

You managed a soft, blissed-out laugh. “I think… that was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Mark pulled back just enough to look at you, his flushed face breaking into a dazed grin. “Yeah? That good?

You leaned up and kissed him softly, smiling into his lips. “I don’t think I can get enough.” 

And Mark laughed, his nose nudging yours as he kissed you again. “Fuck… me neither.”

The train wheezed as it prepared to depart, and you and Mark stumbled onto the platform, both breathless and disheveled from sprinting to catch it in time.

Your hand was still clutching Mark’s as you tried to straighten out your clothes. Your skirt was askew, your shirt half tucked in, and your hair a mess from the rushed… activities prior. Mark didn’t look any better, his tie crooked, his shirt rumpled, and his hair sticking up in odd directions.

“What were you two freaks doing?” Haechan called through the open window as you approached. Karina was beside him, smirking like she already knew the answer.

“Um…” you fumbled, glancing at Mark for backup. “I forgot my… uh… thing, and Mark was helping me find it,” you stammered, tugging at the hem of your skirt in a poor attempt to look composed.

Haechan scoffed. “Right. And I’m the bloody Minister of Magic.”

“Right,” Karina snorted, her eyes narrowing with amusement. “So you’re telling me you two weren’t shagging in the empty dorms while everyone was on the train?”

“What?” Mark drawled, trying to sound appalled but his voice cracked halfway through. “That’s… ridiculous. Do you really think we’re capable of such.. depravity?” 

You bit your bottom lip to keep from laughing, but the little grin trying to peek through made it impossible to sell your innocence.

“Mate, your shirt is literally on backwards,” Haechan deadpanned, pointing at Mark’s disastrous state. “Just get on the train, you bloody nymphos.”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Mark, always quick with his mouth, gestured wildly. “This is a gross violation of our characters, honestly.”

“Yeah, yeah, get in before we leave you,” Karina waved dismissively, biting back a laugh of her own. “And fix your clothes, lover boy.”

Mark squeezed your hand, grinning like an idiot as he led you onto the train. The two of you practically collapsed into the first empty compartment you found, still a little breathless, and when you finally caught your reflection in the window, you burst out laughing.

“God, we look a mess,” you giggled, trying to smooth down your hair.

Mark plopped down next to you, his head falling back against the seat.

“Worth it though,” he mumbled, a small smile playing on his lips.

He turned his head to look at you, his soft brown eyes melting with affection as he took in your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and hair still a mess from his fingers. His chest tightened with the overwhelming urge to kiss you again, but he just smiled instead. “So worth it.”

The train began to move, and you turned your head toward the window. The castle was still visible in the distance, and your heart clenched at the sight of it shrinking away. 

You felt Mark watching you, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over the back of your hand. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah. It’s just… hard, you know?”

Mark’s gaze flicked to the window, watching the last of the castle towers disappear from view. “Yeah… it really is.”

For a moment, you let yourself mourn it— the end of an era, the end of childhood, the end of the place that had been your entire world. But then you felt Mark squeeze your hand, and when you turned to look at him, he was already smiling softly at you.

“But hey,” he said, nudging you gently. “It’s not really the end, we’ve got plans, remember? Summer at mine, then we’ll find our own place. Maybe a flat in London, or  I don’t know… wherever you wanna go. We’ve got forever now, Y/N.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled through the sting in your eyes. “Forever?” you repeated softly.

“Forever,” Mark promised, lifting your intertwined hands to press a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “I mean, if you’ll have me, obviously.”

You scoffed, giving him a playful shove. “Mark Lee, we literally defiled the Gryffindor dorms fifteen minutes ago. I think you’re stuck with me now.”

Mark let out a loud laugh, his head tipping back, and it was like the heavy weight in your chest finally lifted. Because yes, you were leaving Hogwarts, and yes, things would never be the same again but you had Mark now. You had forever. And that made it all okay.

“Goodbye, Hogwarts,” you whispered under your breath. “Thank you for everything.”

And just like that, the castle disappeared from sight.

asjkjdh i loved writing this so much :(((( i could literally make a whole hogwarts series

[someinstant]

What drives me insane is the extent to which education programs are ACTIVELY ENCOURAGING teachers to use generative AI in their instruction and planning. And it's such utter shit. I'm having to constantly push back against it with my colleagues, explaining that, NO, I'm not a Luddite or tech-adverse-- I just think that the information we use in the classroom should be correct, thoughtful, and appropriately evaluated for reliability before we hand it over to our students.

So, an example: last week, my colleagues and I were reevaluating a unit test, and determined that we wanted to replace one of the reading passages with a chart or a graph, preferably tied to a standard that addressed the Ottoman or Safavid empires-- we had too many reading passages, and needed another skill-based question.

"All right," I said, "I'll see what I can find. I've got a good social history on the Ottomans at home from grad school, and I can pull some data from that and make a bar graph or pie chart with that as the source."

"Oh, no worries," said my colleague, who is teaching this course for the first time and does not know the content super well-- although she's an excellent teacher. "I put a prompt into ChatGPT while we were talking, and I've got this cute bar graph on the religious breakdown of the Ottoman empire. It's even illustrated!"

And, Reader-- it was cute. Full color with an illustration of a mosque in the background and folks in 16th century Ottoman garb standing next to the bars of the graphs, each representing different religious groups. Lovely.

And then I looked closer. "Colleague," I said, "There are two bars marked Muslim-- which could be plausible, if we were looking at sectarian divisions, but the key doesn't indicate that, and also, the height of the bars implies that one group of Muslims is 80% of the population, and the other is 70%. That's already 150% of 100%. And the key indicates a different color for the Christian population than is indicated by the bar. And there are two bars for Jewish populations, both at 4%." (Also, and I didn't tell her this, but that mosque in the background was absolutely from Isfahan in the Safavid Empire, and not an Ottoman mosque. But, like: that's stuff I know because I've taught this subject for 14 years and read deeply on it and also I'm an architecture nerd.)

"We can just photoshop out that bit," she suggested.

"No," I told her. "Because this is an unusable graph. And we have no idea where it's pulling its data from, or the accuracy of its sources. It's unethical to include it. We don't do that."

She looked at me like I had just bopped her on the nose with a rolled up magazine, like a pet that just peed on the carpet.

But this is what she was SPECIFICALLY TAUGHT TO DO in a recent grad class on education she took! It's so bad.

This is the state of education in the US: use generative A.I. to "save time" for teachers in lesson planning, assessments, and even grading-- instead of hiring more teachers, shrinking class sizes, and giving us more planning time.

[insert primal scream of rage and fury here]

[navydoves]

Bunny!Xavier and his strange affectionate habits

there’s always something new with your bunny boyfriend. his habits are so strange!

✎ᝰ a/n: i guess this is a series now lmao. if i were to do zayne or caleb, what animals would they even be. cat and dog? we’ll have to figure this out >_>

dragon sylus version

mermaid rafayel version

𖤐

❥ he nibbles on you! it’s gotten to be a little bit of a problem, but xavier can’t help himself. he’ll nibble on your skin and hair until there are tiny little red marks painted on you. at first you thought these were little hickeys, but the real explanation is much more innocent.

bunnies nibble to groom you! he’ll especially groom you when you’re bed rotting or are too lazy to get up. he wants to make sure you’re clean and if you’re not taking care of yourself — he will! but he also nibbles to get your attention. xavier is known to be pouty and clingy, so if he’s low on your love today he’ll forcefully sit on your lap and nibble on your face until you give in.

❥ he hides in your hair. whenever xavier feels overwhelmed or stressed, he’ll go straight to you and dig his head in your hair. it’s a combination of your scent and your shielding hair strands that gives him a sense of safety. he likes the way your hair feels against his skin along with the way it keeps him warm.

but still — wet, dry, tangled, brushed; he really doesn’t care what your hair is looking like, as long as he can bury his nose in your scalp and close his eyes. this also makes for a good cuddling session!

❥ he eats everything. xavier has the appetite of three elephants and then another three elephants. whether he can cook or not is irrelevant, even if he burns something to the point of it being inedible, he’ll still eat it. snacks you’ve saved for later or baked good you’ve left out gets gobbled immediately by him, and it was only ‘til you scolded him that he stopped. stopped taking you food that is, he’ll still beg.

if he smells a meal in the house he’ll quickly sit next to you and smile silently, hoping that you’ll spare him a piece. he’s learned to be less greedy, go easy on him — but he’ll become extremely elated if you give him a quick nibble. he wouldn’t even ask for a full piece of chicken or bread, just a little slither is enough to keep him happy. he thinks of eating together as bonding.

❥ he mimics you. sometimes consciously, mostly unconsciously, xavier will pick up and mimic your habits. if you have a habit of playing with your hair, xavier will also start playing with his hair to mirror you. if you touch your necklace in thought, xavier will also touch his imaginary necklace while he thinks. it wasn’t until he picked up on your manner of sneezing that you realized you left an impression on him.

you didn’t say anything at first: finding it rather endearing how xavier unknowingly imitates you. but once you brought it up in passing xavier tilted his head in confusion. did he really mimic you that much? he was a little oblivious to that fact, apparently. but even with that realization, xavier doesn’t try and stop himself learning from you. in fact, he tries to tease you by imitating you even more. he loves being like you because he simply just loves you.

❥ he teases you with his ears. xavier knows how much you love his ears, so he’ll use them to his advantage to play. when you’re asleep and he wants you awake, he’ll climb the bed, lean into your face, and move one of his ears over your cheek to stir you awake. in a similar fashion, he’ll use his ears to wrap around your head or wrist as another way to embrace you. the fluffy feel of his ears was always welcome on your skin, it felt like a hug from a pillow.

but by far his favourite way to use his ears on you was when he lightly traced your midsection and thighs with the very tips of his fluff. it tickles you slightly, but the purpose of this tease was to get you riled up and beg for a little more contact. he obliges, of course, but slowly. he loves taking his time with you. by the end of it all, his ears around wrapped around your thighs as he satiates his hunger in a different way this time.

❥ he claps when he’s happy. this can be mistaken as a normal human habit, but xavier does it much more often and eagerly than any regular person. his hands will patter together rapidly to create a very quiet but joyful sound. he has no “normal” way of clapping, he only does it in one specific way to show how content he is. if he thinks the sound is too distracting for the moment, he’ll hide his hands behind his back and pitter-patter them there.

even over small things like finding his favourite ramen in-stock at the store, he’ll clap very quietly to himself before putting it in the cart, and later on, when he gets to show you what he got from the store, he’ll start clapping again from how happy he is to share his excitement. as reserved as he is on the outside, xavier is very chipper on the inside.

𖤐

[justladders]

To everyone in the art community, please:

Tracing is effective. But only as a learning tool. Telling people "never trace" can be robbing them of methods that could have been effective to their learning process if they'd known about them.

The "art of using tracing" is a bit looked over, so I have five points:

(it's a long one)

1: AS A RULE OF THUMB, DO NOT POST/SHARE TRACED AND STOLEN ARTWORK. This is not only lying to anyone you show it to, if you're trying to come off as, "I'm so good, look at what I did," but most importantly, it's lying to yourself. You'll trick yourself into not needing to get any better, and you will stagnate if you start to rely on tracing as a form of stealing. If you come to realize that you are, you should stop using any tracing methods altogether to keep yourself from abusing it. It's a slippery slope for beginners, and a big reason why you’ll hear almost everyone echo that you just shouldn’t trace at all. The issue is that this ignores the ways that tracing can actually be good.

2: Tracing sets the stage for motor skills/hand-eye coordination. I've seen so many early-stage beginner artists get upset that the art that they make of their favorite character/oc is messy, or maybe they just don't even know what they want to draw and can’t "make themselves mindlessly doodle.” These early arists then become completely disheartened and upset, especially if they start to look at other people for comparison. Tracing over work or even over photos is a way to train your hand to hold and wield a pencil/stylus properly without you being worried about the finished product. Think of it like a way to dip your toe into learning the process of what making art feels like, without having to get overwhelmed with searching up pointers and people telling you, "10 quick tips to become a master artist!!!!!!!" (<- please ignore those) If you’re just beginning, your hand-eye coordination needs to be trained, and you shouldn't bog yourself down so much thinking about end products just yet, so if tracing is the way to get you started, go for it. If you're a bit more experienced, tracing and drawing over reference can also help you warm up without being committal or stressing your art brain too much.

3: Practice "mindful tracing." While I said the previous point was targeted more at beginners, this point is actually about something that experts in their field use. Doing "mindful tracing" over art means that you aren't worried about getting the lines "correct," you're studying why those lines are there. You're taking note of where the shadows meet the highlights based on the light source, how it shows off the forms, and how sharp or soft the lighting is; you're going over the lines of action in the piece to see how your eye is guided by the artist's intention and planning; you're seeing how characters may be stylized into shapes and the feeling that those shapes can give; you're noting how the artist uses line weight or weird blocks of color or stark breaks to split up the art or separate ideas within it; you're experiencing the flow of the poses within the artwork to grasp how that kind of thing feels; you're breaking down the overall composition like in a thumbnail sketch; and the list goes on.

"Mindful tracing" ends up looking like you've marked up an English essay: it should be messy, because the intent with it is not to copy or replicate, it's to notate. It's like how literally writing notes on things helps you remember better than if you only read it. You're acknowledging instead of just looking. And you can always learn, even from styles that you don't intend on actually using. As you get to be more experienced, you may come to realize that you can do "mindful tracing" analyses on artwork without having to literally write over top of the piece, which is great: that means you're improving your creative brain, and prepping it to be able to break down your own works in this way as you make them.

4: Trace for specific character or style studying. For this point, I want to especially stress that this is what makes everyone say, "don't trace," because this is what tracing is most commonly associated with: art theft. There's really no excusable reason to repost someone's art in this way.

I feel like you have to be a bit more experienced to properly use tracing specifically for style studies. The benefits that come with tracing a certain style is that it can quite literally teach your hand/brain to recognize the patterns that are present. You get a feel for how far apart a specific characters eyes are, how big their hands are, how the shapes of the body make up their form, how the exaggeration in the expressions feel, and when traced you know you have all of these proportions correct. This makes it so much easier to start drawing the specific character on your own if you know that you have a correct baseline (and of course you should still use reference from then on). When you study many different characters of the same style, you can start to grasp what actually makes up this style that you're studying, where -similar to point #3- you train your art brain to recognize the original artists' intentions and ideas. I would even argue that doing this is MORE IMPORTANT than using reference at the very beginning of a style study, because it makes you worry less about if you're pulling from the reference correctly and instead lets you focus on the original art by thinking through it during the process; this kind of thing is done by professionals. Although tracing can net you these benefits for studies, it is not a way to get around the rest of the learning process, which is the pitfall that normally ends up making tracing ineffective.

5: Lastly, I actually kind of lied about tracing "only being good as a learning tool." The other case where tracing gets used is within the process of making hand drawn animation, and I do mean the professional stuff. Model guides are constantly used in classic animation as reference to keep by the animator's side so that characters stay on model, but sometimes there are unnoticeable parts of a character that just get straight-up traced from either the model sheet or a different scene that's already animated. When used smartly and sparingly, this keeps the character on model, is unidentifiable to the audience, and takes up less time for the animators to work (and by "used smartly" I don't mean moments where characters blatantly have 5 seconds of reused animation). I can basically guarantee that this practice was done throughout the making of any 2D project you can think of.

In digital hand drawn art, key frames between points in an animation may get the "shift and trace" treatment, where the tween frame is just a smudged-around-version of the key frames until it looks about right, and then it get traced over. Backgrounds get traced all the time by artists in the professional field through modelling a 3D render of the space, going over it so they have the layout, and then painting on top of it. When drawing characters, people will take photos of themselves and trace the pose, then keep it to the side as reference. And this is all without even mentioning rotoscoping.

When people say, "don't trace," what they actually mean is, "don't trace as a substitute for experience."

The issue is that people blanketly state, "x thing is bad," because then people that aren't learned in the field go, "oh, okay, x thing is bad, it will always be bad, I shouldn't look into it or consider it any more, and I should correct/disgrace anyone that thinks otherwise or does x thing."

So please. Trace. Tell other people to trace. But remember: trace mindfully. :)

[bitchface24-7]

Could I request smut headcanons for Arcane Viktor, Jayce, Steb, Vander, Silco, and Ekko reacting to his female s/o accidentally turning him on please?

HEADCANON - ACCIDENTALLY TURNING THEM ON

ft. Viktor, Jayce, Steb, Vander, Silco, and Ekko

synopsis: you didn't mean to. Honestly! You weren't doing anything special, anything intentionally, it just… kind of happened? It’s not your fault your boys are obsessed with you!

warnings: accidental teasing, purposeful teasing, banter, semi-public sex, fingering, oral (m/f receiving), dry humping, thigh/ass kink, wearing his clothes, praise, degradation, cumming in pants, squirting, marking, smoking, argument (not between R or the boys, some random dude), voice kink, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/f

p.s. Thanks for being the first request for headcanons! A few of these characters I haven't written for before so I hope I get their characterization down. Love ya! Xoxo

VIKTOR

He's never had the biggest libido. Being so focused on his work he forgets basic necessities. Eating, sleeping, the whole shebang.

But when he does remember… oh boy you're in for a wild ride.

Literally.

You don't know what the hell happened. All you know is you went to the lab to drop off a packed lunch for Viktor. You're certain he hasn't eaten breakfast so he must be starving, even if he himself hasn't clocked it yet.

You wore a simple sun dress in your favourite colour, highlighting your beauty. Your hair was up and out of the way, and you can't t remember if you have any makeup on or not. Simple flats dawn your feet. You're comfortable.

You're insanely beautiful to Viktor.

He didn't hear you enter the lab, but he saw the lunch pail lightly drop down onto his desk, and when he lifted his gaze, all he saw was your cleavage.

Soft skin he's intimately familiar with. Skin that bruises wonderfully and that makes you gasp in a way that makes Viktor's ears warm.

He sees your mouth moving, but doesn't hear anything coming out of it. Oh your lips look so lush. So soft and biteable. Glossy too. He wonders if they taste like your favourite fruit.

Before he knows it, there's a tight feeling in his pants and his cock aches against the restricting fabric.

One thing led to another and here you are; spread out across his desk. Your panties in his pocket as he eats you out viciously. The tip of his nose, his lips, and his chin covered in your essence.

You gasp and moan at the familiar sensations. God. You two may not have a crazy sex life, but it is always mind-blowing.

You can see one of Viktor’s arms moving up and down desperately as he eats you out, he's jerking himself off as he devours you.

That realization is what sends you over the edge as you cum on Viktor’s tongue. Your thighs clench against his beautiful face and he moans brokenely into your sex. A slight whimper escapes him when he's done.

You're left panting on the desk as Viktor casually states, “Thank you for the meal. I greatly appreciated it.” as he wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

You laugh incredulously as he takes the lunch pail off the desk to see what you brought him.

What the fuck just happened?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

JAYCE

Jayce is a simple man. Everything about you is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. He's surprised he has enough blood in his body to keep him functioning with the amount of times you've made him hard.

This morning is no different.

Jayce wakes up alone in bed and pouts at the cold spot you left behind. There's a whisper of warmth, indicating you got up maybe ten minutes ago.

He drags his feet to the kitchen, his slippers sliding against the floor as he yawns and scratches his bare stomach.

The yawn gets caught in his throat when he sees you humming lightly in the kitchen, casually making two coffees to start your day.

Your hair is a bit messy, but that doesn't bother Jayce. It’s what your wearing that gets him.

Jayce runs hot. He always has. So when it’s time to go to bed, he takes his pyjamas off and sleeps in boxers. When he wakes up he puts the pants back on, but he was wondering where the shirt was.

It’s on you. It’s way too big, coming down to about mid-thigh on you. It’s a rich red colour with some gold embroidery. On the chest pocket is the symbol of House Talis.

You need something on the top shelf and get on your tip toes to get it as you reach up, and with that, Jayce sees the entirety of your thighs and your ass. Your underwear leaves very little to the imagination.

Jayce feels as if he got punched in the gut as all the blood in his body rushes to his dick.

He comes up behind you quietly and puts a hand on your hip, the other reaching up to grab the other mug for you. Jayce likes putting your favourite cups too high up so you have to ask for his help, it's working in his favour at the moment.

“Jayce!” you gasp, a smile painting your pretty face. He can't help but grin back at you and kiss your cheek as he places the cup down on the countertop.

You tilt your head to the side to give Jayce more room, he takes it gladly. Kissing down your neck, nipping as he goes. You moan quietly.

Your moans amp up when you feel his massive hard on rubbing against your ass incessantly, “Really?! Jayce!”

He moans out a laugh, “Don’t judge me! I can't help it, you're so beautiful.”

You turn around and kiss him properly, a hand cupping his erection, he whines into the kiss.

Your coffee is forgotten as he pins you down onto the countertop, his pyjama pants lowered just enough to release his cock.

He ruts agaisnt your clothed pussy, the underwear giving great friction for the two of you.

You can't help but moan at the feeling. Your panties are ruined with your slick and Jayce's precum. The tip of his cock bumps against your clit deliciously, and his length keeps the pleasure going.

Before you know it you're cumming, soaking your underwear, and Jayce follows suit, ruining your underwear even further.

Your thighs and ass have fingerprint-shaped bruises. They'll be there for the next few weeks.

Guess you'll have to start wearing Jayce's clothes more often…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

STEB

Steb is a sweetheart. He's very kind and caring, if a bit quiet. He doesn't speak often, but his facial expressions and body language give him away easily.

So imagine his surprise when he wakes up with a raging hard on and you none the wiser as you continue to drift off in dream land.

His face heats up in mortification as he tries to pry you away from him. Gently detangling your bodies, in doing this, the nightgown you wear to bed has shifted as well.

Your breasts damn near spill out— wait you moved again your tits are out. A clear shot of your soft breasts and lightly pebbled nipples is all Steb can focus on. Then his gaze shifts against his will.

His eyes trail your waist, your barely covered hips and there she is. Your pussy is out and playfully saying high. Your pubes are a bit bushier than normal due to the amount of tossing and turning you do.

God you're displayed like a delicious feast and Steb wants to sink his teeth into you.

But you're sleeping, and you work long hours. He doesn't want to bother you.

So he uses your image to jerk off.

He's a bit clumsy, and he tries his best to not make noise. He's unsuccessful.

Pants, moans, and whines escape the pretty fish boy. He gets loud enough that you wake up, and what a sight he is!

Face flushed, lower lip bitten in desperation, a large hand pumping his cock, fingers deftly playing with the ridges on his shaft.

You moan lightly at the sight and Steb freezes. “Don’t stop on my account darling. I was just starting to enjoy the show.”

Steb’s face erupts into a bright red as a shuddery moan escapes him. You bite your lip at the sound, Steb very rarely speaks, so hearing his voice all debauched has made your pussy dripping wet.

You open your legs wide and start to play with your pussy, dragging a finger through your wetness, three fingers rubbing casually rubbing your clit.

A look of astonishment is what you get from Steb, especially when you take his free hand and bring it to your breast, squeezing it harshly. Steb’s motions speed up, as do yours. Seeing him so ruined at the mere sight of you is ramping up your ego you're not going to lie.

Eventually, the two of you cum, it happens when the two of you kiss sweetly enough. Steb’s panting in exhaustion as you just lay him on your chest, tracing his features with your fingertips.

“… Thank you.” Steb says quietly, his voice smooth and sweet. You smile at your handsome boy, “No problem sweetheart. Now, shall we go back to sleep for a bit? Your shift starts in a few hours.”

Steb groans and buries his face deeper into your chest and you can't help but laugh at him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

VANDER

You've been helping Vander out at the Last Drop ever since you were a teen and he was in his twenties.

You helped look after the kids, and helped count inventory. Vander is the face of the bar, both as the bartender and as the owner.

Now the kids are teens themselves, you're in your late twenties and Vander is pushing early forties. The eleven-year age gap now not as obvious as it once was.

You've always kind of had a crush on him. He's gorgeous, kind, caring, and has this gentle dominance about him. He's never scared you— he's the one you go to when you're scared.

Especially now that you bartend with the man. “You're family” he said, “The kids don't need an eye on them 24/7 now, let them grow a bit on their own. But I still need you. Come bartend with me. I'll teach you all the tricks.”

Now, how could you say no to that?

You couldn’t, so now you’re a well known face at the Last Drop

A very well known face

A very pretty one

But there’s an unsaid rule, You’re Vander’s Girl. No if’s, ands, or buts.

Some patrons don’t understand that.

One in particular is making you want to commit murder. He’s rude, touchy, and disgusting to look at.

At one point when you turned around to grab a bottle of booze, the son of a bitch slapped your ass, in retaliation, you swung around and smashed said bottle of booze into his face.

He fell flat on his back, glass stuck in his face as it bled profusely. Other patrons of the bar became silent. A pin drop could be heard in the once lively bar.

“You Bitch!” The man gargles out, oops looks like you broke his jaw. You sneer down at him, “You’re lucky I’m the one who hurt you, instead of Vander.”

“The ladies right. Now get the hell out of my bar.” Vander states as he enters the bar from the back room, wiping his hands with a towel, before tossing it onto his shoulder.

The hurt man stumbles up and leaves, his tail between his legs. Your anger hasn’t subsided, as you pant in frustration. You want to rip your hair out, destroy the bottles of liquor lining the wall. Stab someone. Anything to get this anger out.

Vander clears his throat, “Benzo, you mind watching the bar for a bit? Gotta calm the Little Miss down.”

Benzo just nods silently as Vander takes your hand and drags you to the back of the bar, into the stock room. There’s a multitude of bottles, barrels, cold fridges, and a table with a few chairs, so that you can count inventory comfortably.

Vander sits you down before sitting next to you. There’s a small silence between the two of you, but it’s a comfortable one.

“I’m proud of you.” At that statement, your head whips around to look at the handsome man. “What?”

“I’m proud of you. A decade ago you would’ve let it slide, not this time. You stood up for yourself. I’m proud of you.”

You snicker, “A decade ago I was seventeen and worried about how others thought of me. Not anymore. Who gives a shit if some people don’t like me? I can’t please everyone.”

“I forget how young you are sometimes. The Lanes… they change you. They change everyone.”

A small smile erupts across your face, you hand coming to rest on top of one of Vanders. God damn his hand is so much bigger than yours.

“You’re young too you know? You’re only thirty-eight. Oh the horror, you’re almost forty!” You tease, a giggle in your voice. Vander rolls his eyes, “I was eleven when you were born.”

“Now I’m a grown woman.”

There’s a silence between you two again, but this time it’s not as comfortable. There’s tension there. Undeniable tension.

Vander clears his throat after some time, “So, you feeling better? Not gonna kill one of my patrons?”

You purse your lips, “Honestly. No. I’m still angry, and I know if I go out to bartend again without dealing with it, I probably will snap, and at someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

With that, you stand up and place yourself in Vander’s lap. The older man gasps at your audacity. You smirk, “One thing that’s always helped me calm down is a good orgasm.”

Vander’s hands go to your hips, they completely encompass them. “I can’t Lass. You’re… you’re too young.”

“I’m twenty seven. Like I said before, I’m a grown woman.”

“I’ve known you since you were a teen.”

“And I’ve wanted to fuck you since then. Be happy I’m seducing you now rather than when I was a teen.”

Vander says your name sharply when you start to rub yourself in his lap, “I know you want this too Vander. I see how you look at me. At my ass when I bend over, at my tits when I lean against the bar, at my lips when I bite them. I see how much you want me, and the guilt that follows.”

A groan escapes him, “We shouldn’t… it’s wrong.”

“Then why does it feel so good?”

Vander smashes his lips against yours and you moan at the feeling, the very large bulge rubbing against your pussy isn’t helping.

You both pull apart from the kiss, panting as you stare at one another, “We can’t fuck here. I need time to prep you. My fingers good enough for now lovely?” Vander asks, eyes dark with want. You nod desperately as you lick your lips, god you taste just like him now. His pipe, his favourite whisky, and mint from when he brushed his teeth. Its addicting.

Vander pushes your pants and panties down easily, your bare pussy soaking Vander's pants. His fingers are huge, god they're gonna feel so good fucking your pussy.

And they do. They're massive. Curling against your g-spot effortlessly. They even bump lightly into your cervix which sends a zing of pleasure down your spine.

You have to cover your mouth with your hand so as to not let Benzo or he patrons know what’s going on.

Before you know it, you're cumming aggressively. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you squirt. A squeal escaping your parted lips.

Vander hushes you as he prolongs your pleasure, almost pushing to overstimulation.

A sweet kiss is places onto your temple as Vander gets you presentable again. He pops his fingers into hai mouth and you groan in embarrassment.

“What? You taste as sweet as you look.”

A shy smile is what he gets in return, “What about you?”

Vander smirks at you, “I'll get my fill when the bar closes. That way you won't have to hold back your pretty moans.”

The large man then leaves the storage room and you're left there panting in satisfaction. You can't wait for the bar to close.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

SILCO

You and Silco have a give-and-take relationship. It’s worked well so far.

As a madame of a brothel, Silco ensures security is at your house— both for your girls and yourself. In return, you gift Silco multiple things.

The finest cigars, bourbon, and the greatest gift of all.

Yourself.

You're Silco’. No-one questions you. Not when you want into his office, not when you go places others are prohibited, not when you input your opinion on one of Silco’s plans.

It's especially apparent as Silco casually smokes his cigar as you enter his office in a blazing glory. All you get to your entrance is a quirked eyebrow.

“Where’s Allistar?” You snarl, your eyes blazing and hands clenched at your side. Silco sighs out a ring of smoke, “He’s guarding the club patrons.”

You roll your eyes and push your tongue into your cheek, “Get him up here. He hurt one of my girl and decided not to pay.”

All Silco does is nod once, calling Sevika over and whispers something to her. She looks at her boss, at you, and then silently leaves the office. In no time, the little weasel is inside The Eye of Zaun’s office, trembling.

Before he can do anything, you twirl one of your knives from their holster on your thigh and slash across his face; a nice clean cut from a corner of his forehead, across an eye, his lips, and to the opposite corner of his jaw.

A shout of pain is all that's heard in the silent office as you snarl, “That’s for hurting one of my girls! I'll make you hurt a lot more if you don't pay me my owed money.”

He scoffs at you, and you see red. In a flash, you've got him on his back, you've slammed your foot into his crotch, and you lean over, the tip of your knife digging into his throat.

His cries have turned into whimpers, you're quite certain you've popped one of his balls. Oh well.

He shakily pulls out a pouch of coins and hands them to you, “Thank you darling.” you say, your words a smooth purr.

Allistar just nods quietly before looking at Silco, who just sighs and states, “You may go now.”

He runs as fast as he can out the door. It's more like a frantic limp but you get the idea. The door slams behind the rat and the office is plunged into silence again.

You’re cleaning your blade casually before Silco calls your name. You look up and smirk at the sight. Silco looks hungry. His one blue eye darkened, his pupil overtaking his iris. His jaw is clenched and his hair is a bit messy, as if he was running his hand through it as you cleaned your knife.

He ushers you to him silently, a single crock of his fingers. You sashay to his side and your smirk widens when you see the substantial bulge in his pants.

“Oh Silco… did my violence excite you?”

“Get on your knees.”

You do so without hesitation.

In a few short moments, Silco’s cock is down your throat and his head is thrown back in pleasure.

“Fuck, look at you! A dangerous woman who most people in the Lanes fears, on her knees sucking my cock like one of her working girls. Such a whore for me.”

You moan around his cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Silco chuckles at your reaction, “You like this. You like defiling yourself for me. You like being my personal cock sleeve.”

Your hips speed up on the tip of Silco’s shiny leather boots, and you shudder as you cum in your panties. You shove your head down until your nose is tickling the trimmed pubes at the base of Silco’s cock and swallow.

Silco groans deeply in his chest. A rumbly sound that makes you shiver as he cums deeply down your throat.

You pull away and inhale deeply, wiping your mouth and nose and you catch your breath. You sniff lightly as you put Silco's cock back into his pants. You crawl up from the floor and Silco kisses your cheek.

“So… should I be more violent in your presence?”

“You should just be in my presence more often.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

EKKO

Being Ekko’s right hand woman as leader of the Firelights can be very difficult.

It can also be very rewarding.

When Ekko found out you saved not only your team of firelights but all the zaunites from the enforcers trying to cause trouble to illegally put them into Stillwater, he never loved you more.

Seeing you tired, dirty, and bruised caused an unintentional pulse in his cock. Oh no. No. No. No! This can't be! No!

Fuck you look amazing.

Knowing the reason why you're so dishevelled and seeing you so unbelievably gorgeous makes him want to drag you away to a random private room and give you all the pleasure you deserve.

He doesn't even let the firelight team debrief the mission, he doesn't hear anything as he drags you away to his room.

“Ekko! What's gotten into you?” You squeal, you voice light and full of confused happiness.

The handsome boy just stays quiet as he whips open his bedroom door, slams it, and locks it.

All the firelights look to one another before coming to the same conclusion. Leave those two alone for a while unless you want to be traumatized.

As your firelights warn one another, you and Ekko are just passionately making out. Grunts, groans, moans, and whines are all that’s heard in the room. Ekko pulls you desperately into his lap and ruts against your clothed sex. You whine loudly into his plush mouth.

“Ekko! Seriously, fuck what's gotten you so revved up?”

Ekko groans that you stopped his kisses, “You did. You're amazing, I'm so lucky you're mine and fuck you look so good.”

You go back to kissing and the rutting intensifies. You're tempered to strip down and get Ekko’s lovely cock inside you but the rutting is too good. The layers of clothes causing amazing pleasure to your pudgy clit and Ekko’s engorged cock.

You two paw one another like horny teens rather than young adults, but it feels too good to stop.

In no time you cum harshly into your pants, your underwear sticky and soaked to your sensitive pussy. Ekko groans deeply and you feel him rutt desperately into your pussy as he cums too.

The two of you pull away and pant deeply.

“Did that just happen?” You ask, tone full of disbelief. Ekko laughs and nods.

There's a small bitog silence between the two of you before you calmly state, “Can my team and I debrief you now?”

The look of embarrassment that crosses Ekko’s face makes you laugh so hard you snort, and Ekko punches you in the shoulder.

All you can hope is that the other firelights didn't hear you…

(they did. Oops.)

I hope y'all liked this! I accidentally made Vander’s longer than the others due to exposition. It was a bit hard to write for this many characters but I think I did well! Love ya xoxo ❤️

[smithrpbog]

Horus: "Again, unlike. She already has bodies marked. If she can do 90% of the work, why not 100%? No, she cant do it. As for my plan... it's stupid so I don't wanna say it into existence. There's a 60% fail rate and yet... it's the best plan I got. No, I need more time to think. For now... Lets just take a break. Enjoy life for a bit. Eat, drink, sleep, get laid. Though for you I guess it's avoid getting laid"

Red: he just snorts as he walks back to the hut

[theyluvivi]

ALL FALLS DOWN by kanye west. c.s.

chris x black!reader !! <3

Your back hurts like hell, fingers greasy from the product in your hair, itchy stray hairs resting on your crossed legs as you sit in front of the mirror.

You're annoyed, but technically, this is your fault. Your cousin offered to take down your hair for you—But you just didn't feel like driving. Now, here you are, the day before your appointment, desperately attempting to take down your hair.

You huff. You haven't moved from this spot in hours, and you're running out of movies to watch on your iPad. Someone remind you never to get mircobraids again.

You're almost halfway done, which is amazing because you promised yourself a break when you got to the halfway mark.

"Your hair." You turn around, not hearing Chris enter the room due to you hyperfocused on the braid in your hands. "I told you I was taking it down."

"That was 5 hours ago," He says, getting closer to your little setup. "Holy shit, they're tiny." You giggle as you feel him run his hands through your braids, "This is what you were doin'?" He points to the piles of hair around you.

You nod. "Thought I was ignoring you?" He shrugs, "Kinda." You laugh, finally slipping the braid out that leads your precious break. "M' gonna take a break."

"....you want help?"

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"I don't think I'm doin' this right," Chris mumbles, rattle comb in hand. You can see him behind you in the mirror, eyebrows furrowed together as he picks at the tiny plait. "It's gonna come out." He glances at you in the mirror, "But this one isn't—"

"It's gonna come out." He combs out the braid a bit more, watching it unravel as it finally slips out. "See?"

"Whatever." A smile finds its way onto your lips. You don't mind that every time you attempt to touch a braid, Chris swats your hand away, giving your fingers a much needed break from how they were cramping earlier.

You're content. You have 2 more rows of braids left. You run your hands through your product filled hair, "Wanna help me wash it?"

"Nuh uh."

"Chris—

"You do all those.... fancy hair masks, n' shit.. not gonna mess up and be responsible for destroying your hair." You jut your lip out. "I'll show you how you do it, please?

You watch his eyebrow raise in the mirror. "Please?"

"....Fine."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizmez @sosasturns @drewswife @strnilolover @oopsiedaisydeer @t0riiiis @courta13 @luckysouls @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @mattswifeyy @mattsleftball

a/n: I DO NOT FW WITH THIS. BYE.

[nanamiskentos]

MY STRATEGY ✤ 呪術廻戦

SYN. ➤ You're a man-eater, and he's just a light snack. A.K.A how you're just driving these sorcerers wild. ૮ • ﻌ - ა

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Sukuna, Chōsō, Tōji, Hiromi, Naoya, Gojō, Kashimo

cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, màting préss, oràl (m), food play (?), drunk séx, semi-public séx, bàckshots, breéding kínk, proposals, créampié, bathtub séx, jealousy, wall séx, ooc naoya, reader is called a slút, cowgírl, pràise kink, big díck gojo, face sítting, oràl (f), múnching

wc. tba

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) someone requested a jealous!naoya fic so i just incorporated it in this 😭 and as a returned reward for me, i decided to add kashimo so we actually won 😁

➤ GETO SUGURU

"Fuckin' soaking all over me, darling. I'm really g-gonna' –"

Frankly, much of this evening has become a blur for Geto but he can faintly remember seething at those useless cunts over at the temple, and at the stack of paperwork piling up on his desk (yeah, apparently running a cult involves a lotta' bureaucracy).

He had thrown aside the heavy violet gojō-kesa, rummaging away for a faded, dark hoodie and thick cargo pants. He remembers knocking at the door of your apartment, and doing his best not to fall to his knees when you sweetly answered the door, pulling him in by the hand.

And somehow, between that blurry haze and him desperately kissing his girlfriend like his very life depended on it, Geto had found himself a happy, happy man, with your pretty ankles twitching around his shoulders. Pressing deeper into you, so your thighs were knocked straight up against your chest — pressing right into the fat of your tits as he slapped his hips right up against yours in the meanest mating press possible.

Your hands are in the mood to wonder too, it seems. Trembling ever so slightly for the surefire hits that Geto delivers when his rummaging, girthy cock thwacks! into you, over and over.

But your nails are running over the traditional dragon design that licks and curls up his left arm, trailing over his upper bicep where the ink tapers off over his back. A tattoo, something from his early days, often hidden underneath the draping robes he dons at the temple.

"Thaaat's my good girl," Geto murmurs, running his tongue behind his teeth, jostling himself closer to you so he could sip at your pretty mouth once more. Slick strands of saliva glistening between your lower lip and his, violet eyes narrowed as he feels your pussy clench around him in such a dizzying way.

"M-missed you so bad, Sugu', all day." You're whining, cunt twitching and quivering, releasing dribbling puddles of slick all over the fresh bedsheets.

Geto just chuckles, nipping his teeth over the juncture of your collarbone, leaving a faint, bruised mark that is certain to bloom into pretty petals, "I know, think ya' might have missed me jus' a bit too m-much, hmm?" Dipping a fat thumb to roll at your clit, "Pretty pussy was already sticky n' wet for me when I got here."

How sweet. Geto's practically swabbing every inch of your insides with his cock, and yet, the mere mention of him knowing about your lovely fingers spreading yourself apart and playing with yourself has you flushing so beautifully. God, Geto thinks to himself, if he doesn't marry you, he might really just die.

"Look at ya', wish I could take a photo," Geto murmurs, and you can hear just how much he truly does love you. Your (mildly suspicious) enigmatic boyfriend with his titan-steel thighs, and choppy dark hair is whispering sweet nothings in your ears, professions of loves that you know will make him fluster and blush all the more sweetly later on, "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen in m' whole life."

Raking your nails past the hypnotising dragon tattoo, to claw at his rippling biceps. Crimson lines blooming in your wake, as crescent edges leave their mark in a way that makes Geto groan. "Gonna' cum for me, baby? Can f-feel ya' sucking me up, god."

The rhythmic clenches of your pussy, the sheer, powerful arc of clear fluid spraying over Geto's groin and drenching his cock are enough to make the man moan, loudly, and not giving a single fuck at who hears. He's only burying himself further into you, driving himself right home with each spattering drivel and swivel of his hips into your glorious heat.

"Good g-girl, takin' it all for m' like a champ."

➤ RYOMEN SUKUNA

"What the fuck has gotten into you? Been in the cellars again, have we? Now, what did I say about that, eh?"

It's rare to hear Sukuna so bewildered, but the fact that the King of Curses is allowing you to manhandle him, to push his beefy, four-arm form into your private chambers is sign enough that he's indulging you.

"Wanna' kiss you, 'Kuna." You murmur, catching your husband's faint look of surprise, russet eyes widening as you yank his shoulders down. Planting your lips to his, muffling whatever snarky comment was sure to leave his fanged mouth, "Didn't like how she was looking at you."

Sukuna pulls back, if only to briefly trace his tongue along the side of your neck, down those fine crimson robes he so loved to see you in, "Who?"

"That courtesan." You shudder as gleaming fangs nip at your soft skin, shoving Sukuna closer towards the plush, vast expanse of your shared bed, "She was all over you, 'Kuna."

"Ah, that's what this is. My lil' Queen is jealous," Sukuna's back hitting the mattress, looking far too priggish and self-satisfied with your envy, "They're courtesans, brat. They pour our wine, flitter around like gnats, it's all a part o' the job description."

And because Sukuna truly can't resist himself, riling you up even further, "Besides, are you really surprised they're makin' stupid eyes at me, heh? I mean, look at me, I'm allll muscle and – mmph!"

In the short time that Sukuna took to gas himself up and rile up his pretty wife, you had already managed to snake your hands into the loose waistband of his wide pants. Clawing the fabric down absurdly broad, muscled thighs and undoing the thick, black knot holding his garments together.

A gentle peck on the upper-stacked of his two sculpted cocks has Sukuna suddenly glaring right down at you. All four eyes suddenly glazing over, "This is the game you wanna' play, brat? Really? 'Cause I can – fuck!"

You're pressing the flat of your tongue, the textured muscle right against the thick vein that runs along the underside of his absurdly long, girthy shaft. Ensuring that the second of his cocks doesn't feel left out, beginning to pump it slowly in the other hand.

"S-shut up, and let me do this." You're muffling around the smooth, taut skin at the very tip, beaming red and weeping the more you lave at it, "Wanna' taste you, 'Kuna."

"Heh, if I ever say no to that . . there's a knife in that wooden chest over there. I'd want you to use that on me, 'cause I'd hafta' be out of my damned mind to —"

There's a faint frazzled jump, a whine, colouring Sukuna's tone and you can tell that he's doing his best to muffle the sound. Determined to keep at least some dignity for himself, dark claws come to settle in your hair. Keeping that same steady pace to bob your pre-stained mouth up and down on the upper of the two shafts.

"Ouh, I was gonna' send those courtesans away, you k-know, if they were makin' my wife upset," Sukuna snickers, both cocks engorged enough that you really have to put in an effort to stretch both your hand and your mouth over them, "But if t-this is what I get outta' it, then they might jus' stay."

You glide your mouth away from Sukuna's cock with a loud pop! Giving your husband an unimpressed stare as he flounders, scowling, "Okay, m' sending them away. Was o-only a joke."

You can taste salty beads sinking into your tongue, and if you angle your head just right, you can press your head down enough for blush-pink hairs to tickle at your nose. The scent of him, the taste, the feeling of his hot n' heavy inches weighing on your tongue — you can feel a hot pulse beginning to jump up between your legs.

When it rains, it pours. When Sukuna climaxes, it. . also pours.

You know that there is no way you could possible envelop that much of his seed, but you lick gently at the spurting ropes of white, thick and opaque release. Feeling splatters paint all over your chin, your chest and the edges of those gorgeous robes Sukuna gifted you for your name-day.

"Wanna' climb on, brat?" Sukuna's peering down at you, and you can take some satisfaction in the flustered blush that he is furiously trying to hide, lolling his head away from your line of sight to little avail, "Still got another cock if ya' wanna ride. Gotta' fill ya' up so the whole estate can know that what my wife wants, she gets."

➤ CHOSO KAMO

Yeah, so introducing Choso to the idea of Friday night drinking? Probably not your most. . strategic decision. But after a gruelling day of training, and an even more excruciating day of self-restraint and not throwing yourself immediately at your boyfriend, you figured a good bottle of red, two glasses and a quiet evening on the wooden deck were well-earned.

So, now, here you are, perched in his lap, watching that wine-kissed flush bloom across his pale, clammy cheeks. His hazel eyes roam over you, shy, as berry-red stains his lips, and you lean in to sip the taste right from your favourite source.

Oh, and you're both utterly naked, training robes discarded in crumpled piles on the outdoor deck. Normally, you'd be a bit concerned that someone could turn the corner and find you perched over Choso's bare thighs, but the hour has grown late and you're on the far end of campus.

Thus, there's only one other massive factor to really consider here. And massive, well, that's an understatement of the century.

Choso's surprisingly relaxed like this, milky thighs flexing as he props you up, pulling you closer to him, but what really grabs your attention is the gleaming, red shaft that must be agonising by now, prodding right at your core. Right where you're balanced over the fat tip.

"No-one is gonna' walk past right?" Choso's blinking, dark lashes so long that they almost brush his lower brow as he flutters his eyes up.

You giggle, tilting the wine glass in your hand so more wine spills over the rim, dribbling down your bare form. And Choso, ever the greedy one, follows the slow trickle, laving his searing lips over your skin, right down your collarbone and over your breasts to lick up every last drop.

"Nah, and if there is gonna' be anyone, it'd be like. . a curse that got past the curtain." You're hiccuping, tracing faint lines over the edge of Choso's jaw, "And we'd have bigger problems anyway."

Your eyes are trailing downwards, to the curl of dampened, dark hair right over the base of his thick cock, and Choso scoffs, "You're about to say something lecherous, aren't you?"

"Wanna' give me a bigger problem, then, Cho' ?" Batting your lashes ridiculously at him, but even the half-curse can't resist how his heart is pounding, leaning in to plant a sweet curse on your lips.

"Are you sure?" Choso's gentle hands rolling over your spine, softly ghosting over your bare back that pebbles in the cool night air. Mahogany air tickling at your cheek as he situates large, soft palms over your waist. Swivelling you around so his impressively carved line of abdominal muscles are pressed against your back, and his breath ghosts are your ear.

"Gonna' be a biiiig stretch, sweet thing." Choso murmurs, planting a tender kiss at the nape of your neck, and god, he was not joking for the sheer girth often manages to catch you unaware each time.

But he's eager to help out, thick fingertips trailing over you to paw at your slick folds, spreading them apart even wider. He's murmuring something and you strain to here it, but you think that he's gasping, "I think I'm gonna' cum. Early, again."

You giggle, knowing that he flushes a vibrant shade of strawberry-red each time that he busts his load in you this early. For that faint, mere kiss of your arousal and your cunt's pretty walls against his cock is enough to make the half-curse shudder and swear as he spills glossy fillings right up in you.

"It's okay, Cho', you can – inside, you know."

"R-really, lovely? Inside, yeah?" Choso doesn't need further encouragement because he's already groaning, and you're already feeling wads of buttery cum drip down your thighs, feeling your hips twitch and shudder as the half-curse is determined to make up for this. Running his fingers along the side of your clit in a determined V-line, flicking gently over the swollen nub.

You're dazed, feeling the sudden build-up from your own orgasm creep up over you. The wine going straight to your head and making every cell in your body so tingly, and sensitive.

Watching with faint fascination at how fucking filthy this all is, the sopping leak of Choso's creamy cum dribbling out from under you, mingling with the blood-red drizzle of the wine still plastered to your thigh. A faint, pale shade of pink that has you aching to swipe your fingers through it, bringing it to your lips. And it has Choso groaning, cock hardening alll over again in you.

"You're going to be the death of me, sweet thing."

➤ TOJI FUSHIGURO

"Yeahh, arch ya' back for me like that, beautiful."

And fuck, Toji swears that if he had not been ass-naked, and there had been a ring in his back pocket right now, he would have whipped it out to propose to you, right then and there. Because, god, he's so truly in love with you, and the way that your pussy is a killer.

Capable of rendering an assassin dumbstruck, slack-jawed as he does his best to attach himself to reality once more. But all he can feel is the tight slick of your cunt clenching once more around him, the plush of your ass bouncing back to meet the base of his wide cock. Skin slapping so filthy and sticky against the trail of dark hair pattering down his abdomen.

Two wide palms searing into your skin, scooping him right up so his deliciously long cock can curve and glide right through your pussy. Bullseye! Right onto that sweet spot that makes you keen, and claw and whine, "Toji – right there, fillin' me up so good."

And you always know the right things to say because that rough, lil' scar on the upper corner of Toji's mouth is twitching, fighting off the dopey, love-struck grin that plasters itself on his face. Fighting the rising blush that threatens to make itself visible on his back, neck and ears.

He's a grown man, for fuck's sake! But never has he ever felt something so disarmingly charming and incredible as this, caging you in his arms as he pounds his hips into you, slap! slap! slap!

"We should get m-married, right? Right, doll?"

Toji doesn't even realise what he's babbling, too intent on feeling every inch of your walls, every sticky divot that he can press his inches into but god, he means every word that's falling from his slack lips, "M-marry me, doll. Gon' get ya' a diamond ring, anything ya' ask for, just say the word to ol' Toji here."

At first, the buzzing in his ears is so loud, so goddamn obnoxious that he cannot make out what droopy, muffled words are falling from your glossy, beautiful lips. But he strains his ears to catch them over the sound of his hips pistoning themselves against your skin, strands of translucent gloss stringing and snapping.

"W-wanna marry you too, Toji!"

For all of Toji's hard work in the sweltering gyms in the shitty basement of his apartment complex, his vast, muscular arms suddenly lose their strength. Everything in his broad, heavenly carved body turning into jitters, heart dangerously leaping up into his throat at just how much he loves you.

There, he said it. And now, he thinks he'll never be able to stop.

Emerald eyes not even sure where to focus on, the bounce of your tits that he can spy from underneath your glorious arch, the soft bounce of your ass against him, or the beautiful curve of your spine, "Loveee ya' doll, gonna' give you the whole package, I swear."

Each phrase puncuated by the heavy thwack! of his weeping tip against your cervix, pressing right up against where he's hoping his seed will take, "Gonna' make ya' my wife, my gorgeous wife." Sweeping a muscled arm beneath you to find your sensitive clit, pressing right at the sensitive bud, "Gonna' fill this pretty pussy up so good, wanna' see you allll round and g-glowing for me."

"Fuck, I'll even pay that s-shitty clan a visit, eh? Make 'em hand over the family ring, just so I can see it on ya' finger." God knows that those little shits don't need it, that pretty band of emerald that Toji can already see in his mind's eye, gleaming on your ring finger as he presses gentle kisses to your hand.

The very vision of you with your belly round, gleaming like the fuckin' sun itself, has Toji shuddering, planting his knees further into the mattress so he can jostle you even closer for a good fill. His wife, yeah, she'll get only the best.

Groaning as he feels wrinkled skin tighten, before thick ropes of sloppy, pearly cum shoot out from his angry tip. Overflowing in droves as he continues to buck his hips against yours, watching as your squelchy, puffy folds take up every single drop.

"I'm all yours, doll. I mean it."

➤ HIROMI HIGURUMA

"This was what you wanted . . angel?" Your husband coos, spreading his thick thighs (deliciously dusted with fine, dark hair) further apart, so you can slot comfortably in-between. So you can press your naked back to his bare chest, letting the warm water of the tub gently soothe that miserable ache in your bones.

"Mhm." You sigh, letting your head rest back against glistening, creamy skin, "Been so long, 'Romi. You're always soo busy with work, baby."

The man behind you sighs, rubbing gentle hands down your pebbled arms, pressing soft and loving kisses to your neck, "I know, and m' sorry. Wish we could find more time like this, my love."

You can hear the apologetic tone in his voice, frowning at the idea that he must believe that you're truly upset with him, your beautiful and wide-eyed husband, "I'm jus' glad you're now, and. . .uh." You shift back slightly, hoping that he gets the hint from where you're pressing up against him.

"Aw, angel's all needy now?" Hiromi laughs against the shell of your ear, "Ah, I shoulda' known you were gonna' start squirming like this. Gorgeous lil' thing."

You feel his large hands wrap around you, exploring and wandering your chest. Pinching, flicking and softly caressing the sensitive skin, his large nose brushing against your neck, "Bet you want me to go even lower, am I right?"

"Please."

Your husband never lets you down, never leaves you dissatisfied, for his quick fingers are already dancing over your abdomen before dipping in between your legs. You squeal at the sudden contact, the damp pads of his thick fingers brushing against your folds, and the water lurches in the wide tub.

"Careful, now. Otherwise, we're gonna' have to clean up the mess after," Hiromi chuckles, but he seems just as eager to let his fingers explore you. To play you masterfully, nipping at every nook and cranny of where you're most sensitive.

He's even gasping in faux-surprise, baritone chuckle giving way to a marvelled rasp, "And so wet already? Barely even touched ya', and your pretty cunt's all slippery for me."

"What can I say?" You slick back a little against his chest, head falling lower as you squirm to help him find the right angle, "It's never as good when I do it with m-myself."

Hiromi's sudden grunt amuses you, your stoic and clever lover suddenly envious from the mere mention of him missing the sight of you pleasuring yourself, "Always gotta' play some games, don't you, angel?"

He doesn't wait for your stuttering response, a wide finger already breaching past your glossy entrance, brushing against your inner walls as heat licks greedily at your groin, "S-soo good already, baby."

"Jus' be patient, and let me do more," Hiromi mutters, his lips pressing to the juncture of your neck. Another finger joining the first, your walls clenching down on the welcome intrusion. He begins to set a steady pace, pistoning the digits in and out, and again, in and out of your pussy in a way that makes breathy whines fall from your open lips.

"Gorgeous." And it's his honest, love-struck praise that makes you flush, a rough thumb brushing over your needy clit, gentle swipe proving that sometimes less is more, "Spread 'em a bit wider for me, love."

And you comply, thighs shifting wider, muscles trembling with the bulk of Hiromi's fingers smearing your slick arousal back and forth over your folds. A soft and breathless whimper escaping as the pleasurable ache deepens, "Wha –"

The trembling, excited question beginning to fall from your lips, just as Hiromi slips his fingers out of you, prompting a whine that's quickly silenced by him pressing the sweetened digits past your lips, "Had to stretch m' wife out there, now taste."

You gasp around his fingers, feeling something far heavier, and wider prod at your entrance from behind, keening as Hiromi lifts you ever so slightly higher so the flushed mushroom-tip of his cock can easily slip into your cunt, curving deliciously up into your pussy.

So perfectly snug as your husband stifles a loud moan, bucking his hips up, water pooling over the edges of the bathtub, "We're gonna' be making that m-mess, angel, so hold on."

➤ NAOYA ZEN'IN

Oh, you are so in for it now. For you've never seen your petulant husband like this, never this riled up, not with such a wild and burning edge. The short walk from the feast hall to your private chambers felt like a blur as he hadn't even spared a second glance back, dragging you from your seat on the finely-woven tatami mats.

"Tch', keep up," Naoya's snapping, golden eyes darkened with a heavy haze that you suspect the sake may have played a role in. His long, dark lashes flicker against flushed, peachy cheeks as Naoya grips your wrist with a hand that's searingly warm.

He doesn't even glance back to see if anyone still lingers in the dim hallways, no, he does not even care. And Naoya's not quite sure why you suddenly do, "Oh, so now you wanna' see if someone's around? Didn't care sooo much when you were practically draped over that man's lap like a slut, right?"

One hand roughly swinging the screen door open, and another stroking over your pulse, pushing you in. And well. . you would be lying if you said that this didn't fill you with some form of glee. That this hadn't all been a part of your plan for the evening to provoke the Zen'in heir, to get some reaction from your husband,

But god, you certainly had not expected this. Hadn't expected Naoya to press the full weight of his toned form against yours, to have you right up there against the wall with no shame. His clever hands are skimming under your verdant robes to scoop strands of slick, heavy arousal between thin fingers, all while sharp fangs nip at the shell of your ear.

"So, my wife was just that desperate for attention. . wasn't she?" Naoya's scoffing, batting amber eyes at you as his tone takes on a bratty, raspy pitch, he sounds ruined. "Were ya' just really so needy t be fucked, like this? Couldn't even wait 'till the feast was over, and now m' gonna' have to explain this to everyone, yeah?"

Naoya's always oddly chatty when he's running his hands over you, mouth running wild and desperate. His fingers have torn away beautiful, new emerald-green silk robes, pinching and tweaking your swollen clit between clipped nails. Scoffing and snickering when you buck your hips into him, whining his name.

"Ha! As if m' gonna' let you have this easy, you think I'm just gonna' give you my cock now, like you weren't just whorin' yourself allll over that sorcerer's lap – heh, he must've been thinking it was all the wine." Naoya snarls, already tugging at his own dark haori, and the thin waistband of his pants, "He should have asked me then, I coulda' told him just how cock-drunk my wife gets when she's lookin' for my attention."

What your husband has lacked for in wide girth, he makes up for in length, and he takes some (really fucking annoying) egotistical pride in knowing how to wield those inches. He's using his warm hands to hold your thigh up — to run the angry, pink tip down your dewy cunt. Hissing when the tip snaps on your weeping entrance.

The first few inches has you keening into him, not caring about how this is the man that you profess to love on some days, and vow to poison with arsenic on others.

Naoya's patting your cheek with short taps of his manicured hands, bullying his cock further into you, "Hey, wifey. Pay attention now, look d-down. This is what ya' wanted, right?"

And you do look down, gulping at the sight. His veined cock being enveloped by your swollen, puffy folds. And each time that your husband teases and draws his cock out in heavy strokes, well, it comes out glistening and creamy. And it's clear that Naoya is amused by your dazed giggles and sighs, but even he isn't above the sheer pleasure that your pussy gives him, shaking his head of sandy, soft hair.

"Ouh, take a look at that, she's l-loud tonight, isn't she?"

And you profusely flush, hearing the pap! pap! pap! echo through your quarters, the slick thwacks! of his cock sliding in and out of your heat as you mewl. And Naoya almost, just almost, looks fond of you, his wife, pressing a shaking thumb to the pad of your lower lip, pressing down as you nip sharp teeth around flesh.

"Pretty, p-pretty lady," Naoya babbles out, probably without even realises that he's paid you an accidental compliment, loose strands of flaxen hair brushing against his forehead as he leans in to press a filthy kiss to your lips, "Wanna' go one more time on the bed? O-or how 'bout the hallway? Everyone can hear how I make ya' scream."

➤ GOJO SATORU

"Oouh, you just make everything so much better for me, baby." Gojo's laugh rumbles from his bare chest, snowy lashes fluttering over creamy, flushed skin as he presses his back further into the plus mattress.

You sigh, and it's a happy, content sound that makes something awfully soft settle in Gojo's chest. You're pressing soft kisses to his reddened, twitching mouth, melding yourself to his lips.

"Now, c'mon, off!" You tug at the black silk wrapped around his eyes, curling your fingers into the smooth fabric to just yank it down. Your eyes meeting Gojo's lazy, pleased gaze as you do. He's just so smug like this, knowing that he's got you naked in his arms. You can see his jewel-blue stare appreciatively run over your bare form, his favourite sight in the entire world. A veiny hand pulling at the curve of your ass, pushing you further on top of your fiancé.

"And to think I was in such a bad mood earlier, baby," Gojo murmurs, tapping his muscular thighs. A silent indication for you to hop right on, hovering your dripping core right over his angry, weeping tip. "Thought I was gonna' have the worst day ever, the higher-ups fuckin' with me and all. But how could I ever forget m' pretty baby waiting at home?" Each sentence delivered with a soppy, sweet kiss to your smiling lips.

"Thaaaaat's it, there we go," Gojo snicker as you slowly lower yourself over his considerable, fat inches. And the strongest is just so amused, watching you bite your kiss-stung lips, struggling to keep the wanton moans in, but you're not letting him off that easy. For the second, the very second that your hips meet the base of his groin, slick seeping into that thatch of white curls, you're giving him a thick squeeze.

"F-fuck!" Gojo wheezes, white strands of hair falling back against the pillow as he does his absolute best to not lose the last semblance of iron composure. But the way your gorgeous, tight cunt is wrapping him good, he fears the game is long over before it even began.

Yeah, he considers himself a pretty lucky man.

"Ya' good, 'Toru?" You giggle, threading your fingers through tousled, frosty strands, feeling Gojo practically purr from underneath you. He's cracking a stormy eye open, pressing his mouth into a thin line, "Yeah, girl. Never been b-better."

See, Gojo Satoru was a. . .practical man. Well, no, scratch that. He was the strongest, but when faced with your dizzying, maddening grip — he feared that there was no power or technique on this planet that would be able to help him.

"Have you gotten bigger, 'Toru?" You plant your shaking hands on his broad chest, nose scrunching as you stifled a weak sniffle at the sheer magnitude of the delicious stretch. Trying to keep your head smart on your shoulders, but god, it's just soo difficult when you can feel every veined-inch throb and pulsate in the gummy walls of your pussy, his second-favourite girl.

Gojo just squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that if he were to crack cerulean eyes wide open, the sorcerer would immediately bust a fat load at the sight of his wife's naked form, and that's not to mention the magnetic pull of his gaze to your chest. He's gasping as you begin rocking forward, setting your own comfortable pace that already has him seeing stars, "Wha', bigger?"

"Yeah, s-so much bigger, each time – each time, I swear." You're mewling, words tumbling right into each other. And that, that mere sight of you struggling to accomodate to wide girth of him. . .well, that is almost enough to have Gojo busting a thick wad of seed into you.

Shaking fingers come to pinch at the fat of your ass, gently tapping it for good measure, "Don't say stuff like that, wifey. M' already s-sensitive." Gojo's huffing, admiring the way that you roll those killer hips faster now, gliding around his thick cock in gooey, filthy circles, and taking every inch of him so well.

You laugh in uneven, frayed bursts — trailing a single finger down the handsome line of his jaw, feeling his pulse jump underneath for he's so in love. "So much better than that stupid m-meeting, right?" Arching your back just a little more on top fo him, so the probing curve of his cock is brushing gentle kisses on your insides, swabbing over that rough patch of nerves that has you suddenly gasping and keening.

Gojo threads a quivering hand at the nape of your neck, so you can feel the cool band of his wedding ring brush at your skin. Bringing you down for a messy kiss, all so sloppy and desperate, "Y-yeah, so glad I left early, heh. Just knew I was needed here, c'mon, baby. Arch for me a b-bit more."

He feels dizzy, lightheaded and he know he must look a whorish mess. His staff uniform already scattered somewhere on the floor, having been discarded in a desperate trail on your way to bed. Dark blindfold having slipped under his face, and ice-white hair dishevelled in raked tendrils. Sticky strands of his pre-cum and your glossy arousal pulling away with each slap! slap! slap! of your pelvis against your hips.

"Think ya' can go a bit f-faster, baby?" Gojo runs his large, warm hands over your chest. Cupping your tits with calloused palms, and pinching them in a way that makes you squeal, "Or how 'bout this? Just move back a lil', yeah, up. So I can feel you here."

Here being in-between your thighs slapping against his, your swollen clit absolutely aching for his attention. And Gojo, duly, delivers. Rubbing furious, tight circles over where you needed the most, sending you hurtling head first into a dazzling orgasm that has you shaking in his beefy, muscled arms.

The rapid, pulsing clenches of your pussy have Gojo seeing visions of wedding vows and golden rings, amplified only by how his own ground-shaking orgasm washes over him and runs him senseless, your tight walls milking him dry for all he's worth.

Thick, glossy ropes of white seed shooting out of his tip, steaming and searing as they fill you right up, pressed right up against your cervix. And in such greedy volumes too, for you're leaking sticky cream all over your aching, shaking thighs.

"You should keep going, sweets, ride m-me as much as ya' can," Gojo gasps out, feeling the overstimulated sensation of your cunt clenching as you writhe on top of him, "If you can make me cry, m' gonna' marry you tomorrow."

➤ HAJIME KASHIMO

". . .What did you just say?" You gape at the teal-haired sorcerer, eyes wide as Kashimo suddenly seems to find the floor far more interesting than you. His heel dragging against the ground, scuffing the pristine white of his boot.

Kashimo just clears his throat — once, twice, then pointedly looks anywhere but you. How adorable, you think, watching as he turns away from you, tugging his cream martial robes apart. "Do not make me say it again, dove."

"Baby, if I didn't hear you right the first time, then. . ."

"Just sit on my face, please."

You're grinning, far too sweetly for the medieval sorcerer to keep his cool, "Say less, 'Jime." Almost cooing at the vibrant red flush climbing up Kashimo's back.

It's a once-in-a-blue moon spectacle, the bratty warrior genuinely conceding defeat for his wants. No smug, fanged grin nor insufferable gloating. So, as you watch him practically collapse onto your bed, limbs sprawled and cyan hair pooling around his head in a tangled mess, you clench your thighs subconsciously, already feeling a bit light-headed.

There's a gangly lurch in your steps, a sway to your balance as you're peeling your panties away from damp thighs. Stepping out of your underwear so you can inch just a bit closer, watching as Kashimo's eyes widen. Turquoise eyes, the same disconcerting shade as his glossy hair, widen — glazing over with something far more familiar to you. The same look in Kashimo's eyes when there's a battle that he has to win, and this endeavour warrants no less ambition in him.

"Come here, girl, let me – ouh," Kashimo's voice has hardened into a needy rasp, his eyes not leaving your mound even once, pupils trailing after a single droplet of slick tearing down your thigh. He's hastily slamming his arms forward, wrapping your thighs up in his tight hold.

Laving his sharp, pink tongue over that droplet and groaning, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before he's mouthing soft kisses over the gentle, plush flesh. Catching any more stray strands of slick before the main meal.

But there's a very slight hesitation in your movements, the faintest uncertainty as you hover with aching muscles over Kashimo's torso. Gnawing on your lower lip, contemplating whether you should actually —

"What's wrong, little dove?" Kashimo frowns, scarred hands reaching out to hungrily envelop your thighs, dragging your sopping cunt closer to his chin.

"Are you sure you want me to, uh, –" You're gesturing to his face, trying to convey that you're suddenly having second thoughts about suffocating the sorcerer with thighs around his head, and Kashimo seems to glean your thoughts, clicking his tongue, "Silly, aren't you? Jus' sit, I have you."

"What if you don't want to – . ."

It is a rare thing to see Kashimo smile, a genuine grin without the promise of bloodshed or storms afterwards, but he's snickering now, eyes hazed over with an even rarer fondness. Sharp, toothy fangs peaking out from underneath cherry-lips, "I cannot even tell you how much I want you to just let me have a taste, right now."

And god, he certainly was not exaggerating for the very minute your aching cunt met his lips, Kashimo was drinking you in like a man starved. Teal lashes fluttering closed over his blissful expression, those magenta-lightning marks at the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stifles back a heady moan, "Mmph. . holding out on me with this. How did I go s-so long without – "

You don't even hear the rest of his desperate, pussydrunk words. World already turning into a bright mush of vibrant colours and sounds around you, streaks of blue and lightning-hot white across your eyes. The slick, filthy sounds of your sopping heat dripping over Kashimo's chin, dribbling down onto his neck.

The very tip of his long tongue prodding at your entrance, already slipping past your pussy's ring of muscle, "Fuuuck, 'Jime, feels so, soo good." Unsure on where to even place your jittering hands, settling to run them past the hem of your top. Slipping the fabric off and away, so you can cup your tits, and grip the sensitive flesh.

You see Kashimo's eyes crack open, and a faintly muffled whine reaches your ears, murmured encouragement of just how much he's enjoying the sight being groaned into your wet, glistening pussy, "Soakin' allll over me, little dove. Heh, tryna' drown me?"

You buck your hips over his face with greater force, feeling the bridge of his sharp, handsome nose brush against your clit as you squeal, "Shh, shh, m' already c-close."

"Already?" Kashimo's tastebuds determined to soak every drop of you in, as though you were the sole thing in this world quenching his thirst, "Always t-take suchh good care of you, right? You gotta' s-say that I do – that it's m-me making ya' feel like this."

"You, y-you, 'Jime, only you." You whine, knowing exactly what Kashimo wants to hear, what you truly believe, how he's the only being able to coax such mind blowing pleasure from you. The only one to have you perched over his mouth, gliding yourself back and forth over his glossy, swollen tongue.

"Good, heh." And you suddenly fear that you had grown too complacent, to willing to believe that this would not be another one of Kashimo's battles.

Because the sorcerer's gaze is suddenly all the more focused, laser-sharp with his eyes on the prize, your tacked clit throbbing for attention from his lips. That look when he's capable of going multiple rounds to prove that he can win, and will win. You briefly wonder if there will be any sensation left in your twitching legs by the time Kashimo is done.

"We can do this all n-night, little dove."

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | four

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, teasing, college au, smau/irl

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 0.9k

authors note: maybe my favorite chapter so far. so thankful for all the support on this, I love to see your comments and what you guys think will happen love y'all.

03 | 04 | 05

Friday

Saturday

“Now that we both have our coffees, let’s talk,” Rafe said as both of you sat down.

“Okay…”

“Look, just before we start, I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to mess up your plan.”

“It’s okay, Rafe. I understand why you did it. You thought it through more than I did; it’s all good, I promise. But we do need to talk about what happens with this.”

“Are you asking me what we should do?”

“Yes, because the situation right now is weird. I always tell my parents everything, like not in a strange way or—” he cuts you off.

“You have a good relationship with them; I saw that.” You smiled softly.

“Yeah, I do. So, me not telling them that I was dating someone is already a big deal. If, let’s say, next week I tell them we’re not together anymore, it’s going to be weird.”

“Yeah, so how long do you want this to go on for?”

“You really don’t mind doing this for longer than two nights?”

“I told you yesterday it’s okay; it’s not the usual favor, but it’s fine.” Your mind took you back to what Angie had said to you, but you quickly brushed it off. He is just doing this because he likes to help, and he is your friend, you told yourself.

“I just have to be sure.”

“By all means, so how long? Two months?”

“Two months?” you asked, a bit shocked. “I was thinking one…”

“Most couples break up after the three-month mark, not exactly at the three-month mark.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.”

“I’m just saying, if you say you want to make things believable, then let’s ‘break up’ right before Thanksgiving.”

“My birthday is next month.”

“So?”

“Usually, I invite my family and some friends over, and now I would have to invite you. We can’t do this in front of our friends; we need some ground rules.”

“Fine by me.” Rafe took his phone out and opened the notes app to annotate. “One, no one—and I mean NO ONE—has to know besides us.”  

“Copy that.”  

“Two, we pretend only in my house, and when my parents are there, of course.”  

“Yeah, okay. So pretending means what? Because I didn’t do much yesterday.”  

“Like, physical touch is okay when we are with my parents—like holding hands and hugging, I guess.”  

“And kisses?” he smirked teasingly.  

“On the cheek.”  

“Forehead?”  

“Yeah, that too.”  

“Lips?”  he wiggled his eyebrows

“Jesus, Rafe.”  

“It’s a genuine question, Y/N.” You knew he wasn’t really asking; he was just doing it to mess with you.  

“Pecks only, nothing more.”  

“Copy that, ma'am.” He did a little salute while smirking. “Pet names? I already called you princess yesterday. Is that okay, or should I stop?”  

“If you need to use them, then fine; but still the same, only around my parents.”  

“Well, that’s gonna be hard.”  

“That’s not really my problem,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee, and he chuckled.  

“Okay, so we are set… we continue this and break up before Thanksgiving.”  

“Sounds good… oh wait, under no circumstances are you staying over at my house.”  

“Why is this important?” he asked, confused.  

“The last guy I dated stayed over a couple of times because it was too late or something with the weather.” He nodded while you talked.  

“Okay then, no staying over.” He typed on his phone. “Now we are set.”  

“Thank you, Rafe…”  

“You're welcome.”  

After that talk, you two kept the conversation going. It was like the dinner the day before had been a good icebreaker and opened the door to getting to know Rafe and becoming friends. A couple of hours went by, and then you said your goodbyes and went to your respective cars.

Today

Even after your talk with Rafe, you were still anxious about the whole situation. But today was different; it was more of a chill setting—game night, snacks, and living room-only vibes. For most of the afternoon, it was just like that.

Establishing ground rules had improved your dynamic; he knew what he could and couldn’t do, and you knew what to expect, so your anxiety was more under control this time around. He grabbed your hand or played with your hair. It was a good afternoon that extended a bit longer, so of course, when you thought everything was done for the day, it wasn’t.

Your dad seemed to be your biggest enemy this weekend. Since he had told Rafe to stay and watch the basketball game that night, and of course, Rafe said yes. Now you were sitting on the couch with Rafe and your dad, watching a game while you scrolled through your phone, not caring about whatever was happening in front of you. From time to time, Rafe grabbed your thigh in stress, and even though you knew you had given him permission to do things like that, you still felt a bit weirded out by it all.

To take your mind off the whole situation currently unfolding, you decided to give Angie an update on what had happened and what was going to happen. It was also a good idea to keep yourself busy before you went to help your mom with dinner, which Rafe had offered to help with because he wanted to know what made your mom’s food so great.

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REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[xazse]

please can i request hybrid kitten reader being taken in by snow leopard Satoru and panther Suguru. could be something like they both assimilated into regular society while living together and they found reader fending for themselves on the street after being abandoned and kicked out by their owner for misbehaving and being mischievous (she's just playful and needs company it was the owner's fault for leaving her alone at home all the time). could you include brat taming and a threesome between them?

its my first time requesting i love your hybrid works sm 🫶🏻 it scratches an itch i didnt know i had and i even read the ones im not into

Warnings: Hybrids + BratTaming + threesome + smut + manhandling + pussy-spanking + crying + orgasm denial + cumming inside + mentions of pregnancy + SatoSugu are a bit mean in this one. + hybrids

Pairings: CatHybrid!Reader x SnowLeopard!Satoru x PantherHybrid!Suguru

Notes: I hope you enjoy! I apologize for this taking so long! I had fun writing this 😈 I’m so happy to be your first request I really do hope you see this! Please give me a message or something if you do!!

You didn’t expect to be picked up one day, showered, clothed and fed till it looked like your stomach could pop out but it had happened. You went from trudging down the street in dirty garments garnering dirty looks from humans who didn’t understand your predicament, you hated the way they looked at you like you were gum on their shoe. A disgusting spec on the world.

It wasn’t until you met Suguru who found you digging through a trash can in some random alleyway, it was like an angel extending its hand, A very beautiful one, one who probably knew the hardships you had suffered though.

He had listened to your story in that alleyway, spared you his ear and eyes with not a hint of malice or some ulterior motive.

He also shared his story of being a “predator” in this unfair unbalanced world, Suguru held himself in such a way that you couldn’t believe people had even thought he was anything but the kindest man to grace this earth.

Satoru you learn, has his ups and downs but besides he also treated with the utmost respect and care, taking care of you in his own funny ways. Satoru being a Leopard made things easier for you they’re usually upbeat in some way so it wasn’t hard for you to get comfortable in their warm home.

You adjusted very well to the both of them, adapted to their lives and sunk into their company. They think it worked a little too well.

Suguru had asked you to do something very simple, something small, he never really asks you to do much around the house so he doesn’t think anything of it, what he doesn’t expect is you huffing under your breath and waving him off, simply telling him to “get Satoru to do it.” He’s stunned where he stands in the kitchen.

The next issue arises when you’re playing with Satoru, something you do on the regular because you know how much he loves the chase. When he pins you down you take the opportunity to bite him, you’ve already had Suguru and Satoru talk to you about your biting habits, so you know you’re not meant to do that, Satoru is the one left staring at the glaring mark on his arm and when he tries to scold you, you’re already walking into your shared bedroom and plopping on that game. Not even bothering with an apology.

You destroy expensive vases, plates all in the name of fun, scolding you and telling you to stop doesn’t work anymore. It just seems to make your behavior even more annoying.

Suguru is the more calmer one between him and Satoru, he had let the biting incident go rather easily, but Suguru hadn’t, he thinks he’s the calm and level headed one but apparently not. He comes home from a stressful exhausting day he wants to do nothing more than cuddle up with you and Satoru in bed.

When hes a few steps into the apartment, he’s greeted by his couches, his expensive personally manufactured couches scratched up, not light scratches either those were made there with a bad intent, and he sees you laying on that same couch, facing the ceiling, sleeping without a care in the world, he’s fucking livid.

He drops his office gear and beelines straight for the couch, straight for you, he yanks you off of his couch and a sleepy you is extremely confused.

He doesn’t spare you any words, all you see is his broad back dragging you to your shared bedroom, he throws you down in the middle of the bed with a thud and now do you get to see his angry expression, there’s not an ounce of forgiveness in there, it burns red. You know what you’ve done and yet all you want to do is push him further.

You tiptoe over that already small line and innocently ask him what’s got him so worked up.

Satoru unlocks the door and is greeted by noises, noises he can’t quite makeout yet but stepping his clothed foot further into the home he senses it’s you, he makes his way to the bedroom and slowly opens the door.

It’s like it’s straight from a porno, you’re spread out on the bed in all your glory: naked and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Suguru is sat leaned against the headboard as he abuses your poor cunt with a dildo, you’re holding onto his thick arm begging him to slow down just a little, your eyes are filled to the brim with tears and tears that are already dried up on your face.

“s’too much guru… ple-“ you can’t even finish your plead for release because Suguru is slamming the dildo right against your spot directly. Satoru can see bite marks decorating Suguru’s arms, you’ve been uselessly doing that to no avail. Still acting so bratty even during your punishment.

You see Satoru and try to call out for him in the sweetest voice you can muster, you know the leopard has a soft spot for you but in this moment it goes in one ear and out the other. Suguru spanks your swollen clit and scolds you for even thinking Satoru could help you.

Suguru doesn’t notice but Satoru sees the way your cute hole clenches, oh?

You’ve clearly been waiting for one of them to break and Suguru was the first to fold.

Satoru can no longer stare, he’s been grabbing and pawing with his cock ever since he’d seen the way your pussy swallows the dildo with not much fight. The way your wet cunt is practically soaking and dripping onto the bed.

He makes his way towards the bed, discarding his clothes on the way till he’s only in his boxers, his ears stand at full attention, listening to every squelch and nasty noise you and your pussy make.

He knows in the end you probably want cock but looking at an ever so serious Suguru he knows that’s not what you will be getting tonight, so Satoru latches onto your nipples, swirling the buds in his mouth, popping off of them just to slurp them right back into his mouth.

He swirls his long fingers around your clit, furthering your torture.

It’s not until about three hours later, you cockdrunk on the two cocks that sit nicely in your pussy, it wasn’t easy but you’d find it, you’d expected to be praised for such an achievement but nothing from either man had come out, their poor kitty left mewling in pleasure but no release just yet.

You beg to just cum once, just once but they ignore you, they chase their orgasms multiple times that night, filling your already full cunt with more of them, potentially even their little babies, that should settle you down for a while.

[wordsofwhimsy]

♥ My Hero ♥

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【Ａ/Ｎ】⦂ Two posts, back to back?? Somebody better come put me out cuz I am on fireee 🔥🔥 This is just a cute little fluff piece for our main man cause I thought he needed some attention 😘 【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】⦂ Main!Mark Grayson x Reader 【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】⦂ None 【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】⦂ “Here I Am” by Rick Ross

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Mark hovered outside your apartment, the familiar sense of comfort tugging at him as he flew the last few feet to your balcony. After a long day of fighting battles and putting out fires—both literal and metaphorical—he was looking forward to some semblance of peace. And there was no place that felt more like peace than with you.

He landed softly, his boots making a quiet thud on the floor of the balcony. As he stepped inside, the warm scent of something delicious hit him. It smelled like home, and for once, he felt like he could truly relax.

You were in the kitchen, humming happily to yourself as you stirred something in a pot on the stove. When you turned around and saw him, your face lit up like the sun had just broken through the clouds.

"Mark!" you cheered, setting the spoon down and rushing over to him. "You're here!"

He smiled, his exhaustion melting away just a little bit at the sight of you. "Hey. I made it."

You laughed, a joyful sound that made his heart skip a beat. "I’m so glad! I’m making dinner—well, trying to, anyway. You’re just in time to see how badly I struggle with cooking."

Mark leaned against the doorway, watching you with a grin. “I’m sure you’re doing fine.”

You gave him a playful look, grabbing a jar of garlic from the counter. "I’m not doing fine. This jar is impossible. I’ve tried everything, but I can’t get it open."

With a dramatic sigh, you held it out toward him, your brows raised in mock defeat. "I know I could probably do it if I had the right muscles, but… unfortunately, I don’t. So, hero, think you can help?"

Mark’s grin widened, amused by how you called on him for help so effortlessly. Even though he was absolutely drained from the day's chaos, there was something about your bubbly energy that made him feel lighter. He stepped forward, reaching for the jar, and with an almost embarrassing lack of effort twisted the lid off.

You gasped, eyes wide with exaggerated awe. "Oh my gosh! You’re my hero!"

Mark chuckled, holding the jar out to you like he was showing off a trophy. “Guess I’ve still got it.”

You looked at him with such admiration that it made his chest tight. “You’re so strong,” you said, practically glowing with excitement. “Like, seriously! You just make it look so easy!”

He couldn’t help but tease. With a sly grin, Mark stood up straighter, flexing his arm and giving you a playful eyebrow raise. “What? You think I’ve been skipping arm day?”

You looked at his flexed muscles, then back at him, your face lighting up with a mixture of admiration and sheer delight. “I think you’ve been skipping nothing,” you gushed, eyes sparkling. “I mean, look at you! You’re literally, like… a superhero.”

Mark’s grin widened, loving the way you fawned over him so freely. It was hard not to get a little caught up in the energy you were giving him. It was so pure, so genuine. In that moment, everything else—the fights, the battles, the stress—seemed to fade into the background. All that mattered was you.

He shifted slightly, still holding the jar in one hand. "Guess it’s not so bad being a hero when you get to come home to this," he said, his voice softening just a bit.

You beamed, leaning up to kiss him softly on the lips, lingering for a moment. “I’m just lucky you’re here.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat, and for a second, the weight of the world didn’t seem so heavy. He put the jar down on the counter and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for another, deeper kiss. When he pulled away all he could see was you, still looking up at him like he could do no wrong. The warmth of your smile, the way you were so genuinely excited to see him—it overwhelmed all of his sense and all he could think of was you.

“Alright, let’s see what’s cooking,” he said, shifting the conversation, but still holding onto that feeling of lightness that you brought him. He peered into the pot and saw a mix of vegetables and meat, filling the room with a mouthwatering aroma. "Smells amazing. What’s in the pot?"

You grinned. "It’s a surprise. But I’ll tell you this: it’s going to be the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Promise."

Mark laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead before turning back to the counter. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the last of his exhaustion drift away as he started to help you prepare the rest of the meal.

Despite the brutal day, despite the fights and the villains, here in your kitchen, he felt like he was exactly where he needed to be. Your energy was infectious, your admiration for him so genuine that it made him feel invincible again, if only for a moment.

As he pulled a pot from the cabinet and set it on the stove, you wandered over to him again, still buzzing with excitement.

"You know," you said with a grin as you snaked your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back. "I think you’re more of a hero in real life than you even know."

Mark gave a small, playful shrug as he stirred the meal. “Well, I don’t know about that... but I’ve got to say, I’m glad I’m your hero."

You giggled. “That’s all that matters.”