#catch me doing all this and then ending up playing one of those bottom two recycled ones anyway

[fukiana]

DRAGON'S DOGMA II (2024) dev. Capcom Character Creator & Storage Demo

[starmocha]

to: my true love [Sylus/Reader ★ 1680 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus receives a special surprise in his study. A/N: The Sagittarius in me told me to do something impulsive again, and I lowkey already regret it lol So…a mini series of twelve days of Christmas/winter-themed standalone ficlets with all four LIs (3 mini stories for each; no Caleb, sorry, I want to wait until I’m more familiar with his character before I write him). This lowkey may be me trying to find joy in Christmas again lol ヾ(✿˶��‿◡)ゞ Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia 【 request to be added 】

You were going to kill Luke and Kieran, you decided decisively, as you stood outside Sylus’ study, your hand wrapped around the doorknob, trembling uncontrollably and filled with anxiety worse than any other instances in your life.

A bet was a bet.

And you lost.

Tremendously.

They must have cheated, you thought, positive that those no-good tricksters definitely rigged the card game. Of course, you knew you were also a complete dumbass for ever having faith that residents of the N109 Zone would ever play fair in anything.

You were still going to kill them.

Knock-knock.

Your fragile heart practically burst out of your chest when you heard the knocking. Immediately, your head whipped up, completely mortified to see Luke looming over you and cheerfully rapping against the door with the back of his hand while you were silently fuming just seconds ago. Even though he was wearing his mask, you were positive he was sporting the most nefarious smirk ever.

“Come in,” Sylus’ calm, deep voice called out.

You gasped, feeling a hand over yours. You looked to your other side just as Kieran ‘helped’ you opened the door, and before you knew it, both twins gleefully shoved you into Sylus’ study before slamming the door shut. You stumbled forward, barely catching your balance before you realized what had happened.

“Who is it—”

Sylus looked up and paused. His expression didn’t appear to change, staying neutral just as always, but perhaps someone with a keener eyesight would notice the gleam of intrigue in his scarlet eyes the moment he had laid his sight on you.

You kept your eyes lowered as you stood in Sylus’ study, dressed in a bright red sleeveless Christmas dress with white fur trimming that lined around the bottom of the skirt and over your bust. Around your middle was a thick black belt and atop your head was a matching Santa Claus hat, its end dangling over your downcast face. You stared down at the black knee-high boots you wore, feeling completely mortified. You could practically feel your soul leaving your body as you felt Sylus’ intense stare on you.

“J-Jinglegram,” you greeted meekly.

You flinched when you heard Sylus’ amused chuckles.

“I-I see,” he responded, a hint of bafflement heard in his tone, but overall, he seemed delighted.

You, on the other hand, wanted to die. Preferably instantly.

Sylus cleared his throat, his voice sounding extra cordial than normal. “So…what is a ‘jinglegram’?”

You whimpered pathetically, nearly glowering when you could have sworn you heard the bastard twins snickering outside the room. Clearing your throat, you started to sing very stiffy: “On…the first day of…Christmas…my true love gave to me…”

You peeked up and you felt your face had instantly turned crimson. Sylus was leaning against the armrest of his chair, his fist held over his mouth as if he was stifling his laughter, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. They were practically sparkling with delight.

“…a partridge in a pear tree…” you finished glumly.

He clapped, seemingly encouraging you to continue. You felt a horrendous knot in your stomach, but you soldiered on.

“On the second day of Christmas…my true love—”

You fumbled, catching Sylus’ eyes brightening even more as you sang this one particular verse.

“…gave to me, two turtle doves,” Sylus helped you with his unique singing voice.

“…And a partridge in a pear tree,” you both finished together in a cacophony of mismatched notes and melody.

You winced, unsure if it was because of how mortified you were, or of how the lack of harmony between the two of you could easily be used as a form of torture. Not caring to find out, you quickly whirled around, intending on bolting right out of Sylus’ study and seeking a hole you could throw yourself into and just die in peace.

But Sylus had other plans.

“Not so fast, Miss Hunter.”

Dark red and black misty tendrils coiled around your waist and lifted you into the air with ease. You squeaked in shock as you were carried across the room and before you knew it, you landed with an undignified “oof” in Sylus’ lap.

Your hat fell, covering your eyes, but before you could react, Sylus had already helped you readjusted it. You looked up timidly, seeing his face full of joy. The way he was laughing and smiling almost reminded you of the night he and you had set free that little white dove he had cared for.

“So cute,” he murmured, almost as if he was speaking to himself, and you blushed. His thumb glided over your shiny red-glossed plump lips, admiring the way they trembled, almost as if they were beckoning him to steal a kiss or two, but he restrained himself. He continued in his soft, steady tone, “What have I done to receive this charming…‘jinglegram’?”

“Um…nothing…” you mumbled, feeling the heat spreading from your cheeks to the rest of your body. You squirmed a little, but Sylus held you firmly in place, not allowing you to leave his lap for even an inch. You looked down, seeing how one of his hands was absently caressing your thigh. You continued miserably, “…I lost a bet.”

“A bet?”

“To Luke and Kieran.”

“Ah.” Everything seemed to click into place, and Sylus leaned forward, burying his face into your hair as he laughed. “Perhaps I should give those two a Christmas bonus…”

You frowned. Pulling away, you turned to look at him, your faces just mere inches apart. “Do criminal organizations do Christmas bonuses?”

Sylus shook his head. “Of course not, sweetie,” he answered, “But…I think this warrant some sort of…rewards for them.”

“Rewards? For humiliating me?” you demanded, irate.

You gasped as Sylus lifted your chin lightly and kissed you deeply, his earlier self-control forgotten. He chuckled when you unconsciously gave in, returning his kiss with equal passion. He parted, but he pecked another kiss to your cheek. “Are you humiliated? But you look absolutely adorable in this outfit.”

Your face felt hotter. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” you griped.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed in agreement, unashamed. “Now…isn’t…‘Mrs. Claus’ here missing a ‘Mr. Claus’?”

Your stomach lurched at the implications in his teasing words. You covered your face with both hands. “No…no…no…we are not doing this!”

You felt the hat on your head yanked off. You looked up and saw Sylus had donned the hat he had just swiped from you. Plastered across his stupidly handsome face was the most insufferable smirk ever. He was completely enthralled by this entire ludicrous situation. You were definitely going to kill Luke and Kieran.

“Now if I recall,” he began, his tone light and playful, “the song is far from over. We still have quite a few verses to get through, don’t we, sweetie?”

You gaped, not quite registering his words just now.

He…looked really good with this hat on his head. Very cute. Very, very cute.

Maybe with a matching bright red coat that would be fitted to his deliciously toned body, and a pair of pants that would highlight his juicy ass, he could pull off that look. Would...would Sylus be willing to have a bit of a stubble, you wondered, already imagining him with one, and his face nuzzling against you, feeling the prickly hair against your smooth, soft skin, and oh shit—

You were doing a horrendous job of hiding your feelings today, because Sylus immediately noticed your reaction, his teasing growing increasingly merciless.

“Now, sweetie, have you been a… ‘good girl’ this year?”

You flustered. “What are you—”

“Since you’re already sitting on my lap,” he said suggestively, “don’t you want to tell… ‘Santa’ what you want for this year?”

“You are such a prick.”

Sylus laughed. “Naughty, naughty,” he chided, giving your thigh a light smack and making you yelped in surprise.

“We are not doing this, Sylus!” you protested, face redder than your dress.

He shrugged and leaned back in his seat with a defeated sigh. “Very well,” he conceded, a hint of disappointment heard in his tone. He smiled at you half-heartedly before speaking, “You really are a good girl, aren’t you, Miss Hunter?”

You knew he had meant it genuinely this time, but you couldn’t help but felt something when he had called you a ‘good girl’. This was getting out of hand. Was this what those no-good twins wanted to happen? For you to be down bad for their boss. What on earth was their endgame—

Sylus was humming the earlier Christmas song again, the sound cutting your raving thoughts to a grinding halt. He smiled at you pleasantly, apparently unaware of your inner turmoil.

“On the third day of Christmas,” he ‘sang,’ his jovial tone hinting for you to join him. There was a noticeable pause, and Sylus gave you a gentle nod, silently encouraging you to pick up where he had left off.

You smiled helplessly, his genuine happiness spreading to you. “…my true love gave to me,” you continued.

“Three French hens / Two turtle doves,” you both sang together, half-laughing, before finishing strongly, “And a partridge in a pear tree!”

You slumped against him, giggling and forgetting your earlier embarrassment. Sylus’ arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, the familiar, comforting warmth calming you instantly. You gazed up at him, an idea forming in your head.

“Sylus?”

“Hmm?” He peered down at you, his eyes meeting yours, and his smile soft and sweet.

“We should give the twins a fruitcake,” you said, smiling wickedly, elaborating, “For their ‘Christmas reward’.”

“Two fruitcakes,” he corrected you with a knowing smirk, “One for each mischievous twin.”

You leaned up and kissed him, “Ah, my ‘true love’ is correct.”

He stifled a chuckle, his face buried in your hair again, as he husked, “Then are you my Christmas present for this year?”

“I’m yours for always.”

“How cute,” he whispered, tightening his hold on you, and you stayed like that, humming the rest of the song softly as you enjoyed each other’s presence.

[ohimsummer]

COLD SHOULDER ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU

—minors dni, dubcon, oral [f. receiving], bully!satosugu x fem! reader, nipple play, groping, kissing, fingering, clit stimulation, one pussy slap, pet names (princess, pretty (girl), baby, sweetheart, puppy), implied penetration at the end

wc 2.2k

It’s obvious that someone like Gojo feeds off your reactions. He tugs at your hair so you yell at him, gets in your face until you’re forced to push him away, and he loves, loves, loves, the back and forth bickering for those truly vile insults you always sling his way. He’s just obsessed with little ol’ you. Barely at height with his chest, can’t move him an inch even with your sturdiest push, and yet you remain combative to Gojo’s every action. Until you’re not.

“You know she’s been giving me the silent treatment these past few days?” The warm feel of Gojo’s breath skims the shell of your ear, warmth pooling in your core while you shrivel deeper into Geto’s chest. Gojo runs a tongue over your earlobe, and pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, white brows upturned into a sad pout, before whining, “I mean really, what’s a guy gotta do for a pretty girl’s attention around here?”

Your eyesight darts to anything else in whoever’s bedroom this is, hoping to find some kind of distraction to take your mind off of these two. Gojo’s hot, heavy pants are loud over the stifled bump of music in the main area, piercing shrieks and cheers of drunk and crazed partygoers who are none the wiser to your current dilemma. Large, curious hands wander beneath your skirt, toying with the snug waistband of your panties. Geto’s firm hold keeps your wrists bound at the curve of your back, leaving you at the fiendish mercy of his white-haired friend.

“Just look at you, all pretty and dolled up.,” Gojo hums, lips lingering over your neck as he inhales your scent, before teeth sink in to add another purplish mark on your skin. “Can’t keep my hands off ya, princess.”

You want to lash out at him, bite back with the heinous album of comments that have been building on your tongue, hopefully enough to bruise his massive ego. Or tell him to get the hell off of you and keep his filthy hands out of your space. And he knows it, Gojo can recognize that familiar look of fury in your eyes, and he just adores how you so stubbornly keep biting your tongue. The stronger your efforts, the higher his yearning to hear just a single word from you.

“Still tryin’ to ignore us?,” Geto chuckles into the crown of your head. “Shame, I love the sound of that pretty voice.” He fidgets under you, grinding himself against your ass, an intoxicating, herbal smell of drugs wafting off of him. “C’mon, Satoru, make our little puppy bark.”

“Gladly”, Gojo remarks, eyebrows wiggling at you before two fingers skim dangerously close to your core. A shiver runs through you as Gojo mashes firm fingers to your cunt, prodding at your throbbing entrance through your panties, rubbing them over your pussy and coating your underwear in slick. Your lips quiver, legs desperately moving to close but they’re hooked over his friend’s knees, and Gojo licks his lips at your response. He casts a glance over your shoulder, likely at Geto, before moving up an inch to your aching clit.

“Ha, you’re fuckin’ soaked.,” he laughs teasingly, pulling at the crotch of your panties and watching the dripping strings of fluid connect back to your cunt, before letting the fabric snap back into place. “Actin’ all tough, pff, whatever.”

The words ‘shut up’ graze the tip of your tongue, just begging to be said, but you refuse to give in. That’s all they, especially Gojo, want. To get some kind of vehement reaction from you, and you won’t allow them the pleasure. Not when Geto eases a hand up your shirt to free your tits from your bra, and not even when Gojo begins sliding your underwear down your legs.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on the plump flesh, eyes narrowing at the sight of your panties disappearing into Gojo’s pockets before he spreads your thighs even wider. Heat rushes to your face at the knowledge that your pussy is practically on display for him. His twinkling blue eyes flicker over your glistening cunt, playful as Gojo leans in to plant rough kisses and nips over the expanse of your thighs. He spreads the drenched lips of your pussy, taking in the way you tighten and squeeze in a plea to be filled, before poking an index finger at your hole. His finger sinks right in, swallowed by your wet, greedy cunt up to his knuckle before he wiggles it around inside you. Geto takes note of your hitched breathing, how your wrists defy his grip in an effort for freedom. You catch winks of flowing black next to you, almost blending in with the dark shadows of this room, before you hear his voice low in your ear:

“Feel good, darling?”, Geto studies the flutter of your lids as his friend drives shallow thrusts into you. A long, needy whine breaks free, and he huffs a small laugh. “Mm, I know.”

Gojo sighs,“Fuck…”, totally awestruck at the way his large digit just disappears amidst the gumminess of your drooling walls. He retreats from your entrance, and both you and Geto can clearly tell he’s in love with the way your slick coats and drips down his finger. A steady fire blooms across every inch of your skin as Gojo takes the messy finger in his mouth, moaning in satisfaction at the flavor of you on his tongue. He savors the taste, eyes never leaving your own, and you watch as Gojo thoroughly licks the finger clean.

“Wanna taste?,” he asks when he’s done, pink tongue darting over his lips. “Or is that gross?”

He laughs at the scowl that forms on your face. You hate how Gojo somehow reads you so well, knows you’d call him disgusting and a pervert for what he just did. Hate how, if he didn’t know before, he definitely knows now that this is turning you on, if the way you leak fluids all down your thighs and this wooden dresser is any indication.

Geto’s pinch of your nipple acts as a distraction, pulling your attention back to his feverish, one-handed assault of your breasts. His fist clenches around your wrists, and you feel the hardness of Geto’s erection on your ass when he rolls his hips against you again.

“Mph!,” you barely stifle a whimper when Gojo lands a slap on your pussy, wetness spraying onto his flushed face. The way these two keep yanking your focus in every direction has your head dizzy.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at you. “Oh, what was that? Wanna speak up, princess?”

You give a desperate shake of your head, struggling to control the heave of your breathes as he begins massaging your clit under his thumb. “You sure?” And when you glare down at him, he shrugs. “Alright, then!”

Your eyes widen as he leans in closer, tracing over you one last time, and takes your pulsating clit between his lips, a loud whine catching in your throat as Gojo gives you a harsh suck. Head falling back over Geto’s shoulder, you arch away from his body, toes curling as Gojo laps and suckles onto the aching bud. Your jaw clenches, whimpering noises bubbling up your throat as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you can’t help the few moans and mewls that break free.

“Ah, there it is, those sweet sounds.,” Geto muses, squeezing your wrists again in warning before releasing his grip on you. He’s pleased when you make no effort to fight back, muttering a ‘good girl’ with a pinch to your ass and trails his newly free hand up the expanse of your throat. Giving it a light squeeze, he kisses the roundness of your cheek, faintly rubbing a thumb over the tensed skin of your neck, and pulls your lips towards him. Your lids flutter open a crack, blurry image of Geto’s defined features overrunning your vision, before the soft feel of his lips covers your mind in a thick fog. Without your hands or a bruising bite to stifle yourself, the noise of your high-pitched cries easily begin to flood the room, a satisfying melody for both their ears.

“Can’t keep it in anymore, pretty?,” Gojo’s muffled taunt reaches from between your thighs, vibrations of his voice on your clit sending a twitch throughout your legs.

You can’t see him, only the mess of white hairs from the corner of your vision, but you can feel the penetration of his tongue, how it traces the surface of your walls, determined to mark every inch within reach. He uses thick fingers to bully your pulsating clit with rough circles and sharp pinches, rolling the hardened nub in his mouth between laps and broad strokes of his tongue, all of which easily drive out loud, needy whines you couldn’t even hope to hold back anymore.

“Keep making those lovely sounds, darling.” Geto moans into your mouth, sucking on your tongue before biting at your bottom lip. “Show Satoru how good he’s making you feel.”

Hot pants brush over your pussy, but Gojo continues his abuse of your clit. “Yeah, baby, talk to me, hm?”

The words, whether they were praise or an insult, because at this point you don’t know, get stuck in your throat, leaving room for only a choked sob to fall out as your hips mindlessly rut against Satoru’s fingers. Geto tightens his fist around your throat, leaving you struggling for already difficult breathes, his fingers still pinching and tugging at the pebbled skin of your nipples. The warmth in your abdomen has blossomed into a raging fire, muscles spasming as you gasp against Geto’s face, curses of ‘f–fuck–!’ and ‘shit!’ leaving your kiss-swollen lips at the sensation of your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Hey, princess…,” Gojo catches your half-lidded gaze, tears building at the corners of your eyes. “Better talk to me or you don’t get to cum, got it?”

You twist your lips in a scowl, mind too dizzy but you know he means what he says, and you think you’d pass out and die if he took your orgasm from you when you were so close. He’s such an asshole, of course he’d hold your orgasm ransom just to get a few half-baked remarks out of you. Gojo's eyes peer into your own, head slightly tilted as he watches you weigh the options in your mind.

“F–,” he raises a brow expectantly, azure eyes widening in anticipation, trained on your lips as you hesitate on your words. “Fuck you, Gojo.”

And you’d think someone had just offered him all the money in the world the way his eyes light up, gleaming cerulean blues that crease under the giant grin on his face.

“Ah!,” he teases, shortly relishing in the moan you let out as he stuffs a third finger into your cunt. “There it is! Been dyin’ to say that to me all day, haven’t ya?”

You try and focus on something else, anything else to drown out his incessant mockery. But all that’s on your mind is Geto’s tongue down your throat, and his strong hand restricting your airflow, and Gojo still talking as his fingers curl to press into that spongy spot inside you–

“S–Satoru!,” you cry out, legs quaking as the coil in your tummy snaps, and your pussy gushes around his fingers.

Gojo stares, thoroughly bewitched by the way his name fell off your lips, and the cum drooling from your pussy, remnants of it dripping down his face and embedding into his clothes. “Holy shit…”He absentmindedly runs his thumb over the mess of your still-spasming cunt, barely taking in when you jolt under his touch.

“Stop it, Gojo, ‘m sensitive.,” you murmur between Geto's softened, sporadic kisses.

Your voice draws his attention, and suddenly Gojo is extremely aware of the aching hardness between his legs. He reaches down to palm at himself, hissing at the press of his hand against the bulge, before standing up from his kneeled position.

“Just look what you did, got me stiff as shit down here.,” Gojo huffs, undoing his pants to allow his cock some much-needed air.

You watch, dumbstruck, as the large appendage springs free. Even in the dim light of this room, you can see the redness of his tip, dick bobbing, precum dribbling down the length of it as Gojo takes a step closer, lining himself up with your entrance before rubbing up and down your slit.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you wriggle, only accomplishing to rub your sensitive clit against the head of his cock and Gojo sighs out a breath. “I-I said–!”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya.,” he interjects, rubbing two hands over your thighs. Gojo takes the back of your knees, holding your legs up higher to essentially fold you in half, and presses his hips forward, watching your cunt threaten to swallow his tip. “Maybe it’s good that you’re all sensitive, now. Might get ya talking some more for us, no?”

You angrily narrow your eyes at him, whining at the burn of his fat tip stretching you out. “No.”

And Gojo’s smirk widens. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

Pierced II - Chris Sturniolo

Part One Based off this request Pairings - bfb!Chris x fem!Reader Warnings - MDNI, smut, masturbation, oral fem receiving, oral male receiving, unprotected sex, p in v, titty play, pet names (baby), praise kink, strong language. (comment if I missed any!) Summary - After Matt catches you and Chris in the hallway, Chris dismisses him, and takes you to his room, easily giving you the best fuck of your life. W/c - 2896?? A/n - With Pierced being one of my top liked post, I had some requests for a part two! This is my first smut and I'm not too experienced writing smut sooo 🫣 Posting this before I clock in lol. I haven't proofread this yet so please forgive me if there's typos/mistakes!! Tags - @lvrsturniolo @thepubeburgler @unknvhx @m11rx @ribread03 @emely9274 (let me know if anyone else wants on my tag list!) Masterlist Current series - City of Love

Chris keeps you under his trance as Matt shuts his bedroom door. The anticipation of his next words has your heart in your stomach. Chris always had a flirty personality but something was different about tonight. The look he had in his eyes told you he was standing on business, “my room?” His voice breaks you of your train of never-ending thoughts. 

You nod eagerly, not letting your mouth form the words. A smirk pulls at Chris lips and he reaches out, looping his finger around the drawstring of pajama pants once again. You follow close behind as he leads you down the hall and to his bedroom. You watch as Chris kicks the door open with his foot, pulling the string tighter and making your bottoms bunch up at your waist. Your heart thumps as you enter his room, closing the door behind you. Chris leads you to his bed, sitting down, and guiding you between his legs. He looks up at you, a seductive smirk stretched across his lips, “I can still see, right?” 

Now that he has you up close and personal, he wanted to take advantage of it. Chris never hooked up with a girl with pierced nipples and seeing that photo earlier in the night not only sparked his curiosity, it revealed some sort of new found kink for him. All he knew was he wanted to pay as much attention to your breasts as you’d let him. 

You fight with your own brain that’s telling you not to do anything stupid but when Chris places his hands on your hips, running them down your thighs like he’s admiring the curves he always knew you had, all those logical thoughts go out the window. “Mhm,” you muffle out, locking your eyes on his. His eyes are filled with nothing but lust and passion as he tightens his grips around your thighs, and pulls you closer to him. You take the hint, straddling him before he scoots back on the bed to make the position more comfortable. His hands travel from your waist and up to your neck, pulling you down so he can press his lips to your. Your lips move against his like they’re in sync with each other. His kiss is a lot more gentle and patient than you expected. So many thoughts wander through your mind while Chris runs his hands up your shirt, groping your breasts through your bralette. Let's be honest, you weren’t expecting a hookup tonight, so you weren’t prepared in any way. You had hello kitty pajama pants on with a white tank top, a white lacy bralette and a pair of cute strawberry printed boyshorts underneath. The slight stubble down below being the main give away, tonight took you by surprise. Your outfit was not screaming ‘fuck me’ but your body definitely was. 

Deciding against your logical thoughts, you slip your shirt over your head. Within seconds, Chris is attacking your chest and stomach with wet sloppy kisses, the warmth of his lips against your skin makes you shiver. “That picture was so sexy,” he muffles, dragging his lips against your skin. “You don’t know how long I've been wanting to do this,” Chris looks up, the lust never leaving his eyes. His hands find their way underneath your bralette and he massages you gently. His fingers glide over your nipples lightly, hitting the cold metal each time. A small whimper rolls off your tongue, making him look up at you, “take this off for me.” 

You tug at each side of your bralette, sliding it over your head and letting it his the mattress next you, “fuck y/n.” Chris couldn't help himself, both of his hands immediately cup your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he compliments before snaking an arm around your waist and attaching his mouth to your left breast. Your mouth forms an O-shape at the sudden contact, and you run your hand through his hair as flicks his tongue against your pierced nipple. His unoccupied hand travels up to your right breast, trailing lightly around your areola before pinching at your sensitive nub a little too hard. You suck in a sharp, Chris notices very quickly, parting himself with a barely noticeable popping noise when he pulls away, “too much?” 

“N-no it’s fine,” you tell him. It’s almost like you feared he’d stop, and that was the last thing you wanted. In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn’t going to, and you knew you’d be getting fucked sensless by him tonight at the rate it was going. Pushing your sane thoughts to the back of your head, “here. Lay down,” his voice raspier than before. You do exactly as you're told, scooting off his lap and onto his bed, laying back on the pillow as Chris hovers over you. Engulfing you in a heated kiss once again, he lets his hands wander all over your body, paying attention to the only naked part of you the most. Needing more of him, you roll your body against his as he slips his tongue in your mouth, letting it dance with yours. Before it gets too heated he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours, “you wanna stop?” 

His question taking you off guard, “what, no, why?” you ask, trying to catch your breath he sucked out of you. “I don’t want to,” you blurt out in a whiny tone. You were desperate for him at this point, and he’s barely even done anything. Chris raises his eyebrows at you, awe etched across his face, “no?” You shake your head almost immediately, “not now,” pushing your hips against his. His tongue darts across his lips, and his eyes trail down to your breasts, his hand following quickly after, “you sure, Y/n?” His bright blue orbs locking you in for the millionth time tonight, his gaze was hypnotic, making it impossible to say no to, not that you planned on it. You let out an impatient huff, “Chrisss,” stretching his name out, making Chris smirk. Little did you know, your pleas only turned him on more. He wanted to hear you whine his name while his cock was buried deep inside on you, hitting spots you didn’t even know were there.

“Then take these off,” he commands, tugging at your hello kitty pajama pants. You lift your hips up, letting him slide your pants down your legs. You watch as he tosses them over his shoulder, not caring where they land. Chris runs a finger over your clothed heat, making you squirm under his touch. You had been in his room less than ten minutes and he already had a pool of wetness collecting in your panties. It was nothing you had experienced before. His touch was too gentle for you - too caring. 

You watch as Chris takes the outside of his index finger, dragging it along your slit, applying just enough pressure to make a moan slip from your lips. “Quiet baby,” he looks up at you, “don’t want to wake anyone, do we?” 

The way Chris is rubbing you has your head spinning circles. You barely process what he’s saying before you reply, “mmm- no,” you manage to get out. “Good, stay real quiet for me, mmkay?” he tells you before hooking his fingers in the sides of your panties and pulling them down quickly, and discarding them much like your pajama pants. Redness finds its way to your cheeks, remembering you hadn’t shaved the last couple days. Normally, you’d come prepared and look pretty but you weren’t expecting a random hookup with your best friend's brother.

The passion in Chris’ eyes only intensifies when he sees you exposed and under his control. Crouching down until he’s eye level with your heat, placing a light kiss on your bundle of nerves, earning another whimper from you. He didn’t care about the little hair poking and prodding at his lips, he wanted as much of you as you’d give him. His eyes lock themselves on yours, keeping you in a trance as he uses his tongue to his, and your, advantage. Your mouth forms the same O-shape as earlier, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of the beautiful man lapping at your folds. A smile pulls at his lips but quickly disappears when he wraps his hand around your thigh, pulling you closer, so he can can as much of you as possible. His mouth never leaves your heat as he pulls you closer, making his teeth rub against your clit. Unexpectedly, the impact felt really fucking good. “Fuck Chris,” you moan out before throwing your head back. 

“M’sorry” his voice comes out muffled since his mouth is still pressed against you. His immediate thought was that he was too rough. “Please keep going,” you tell him, tugging a hand through his hair once again. Chris grants your wish, flicking his tongue against your faster than before. You bury your bottom lip between your teeth as an attempt to bite back your moans, but once Chris pushes his middle finger inside you, you can’t hold back anymore. “Chrisss,” you stretch out. Your back arches off of the bed at the feeling of something finally penetrating you. Your last senseless hookup being weeks ago, you were dying to get yours off. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, it wasn’t the same as having a male presence. Chris easily before your favorite fuck after tonight. Before you can adjust to his middle finger, he adds his ring finger too. You buck your hips at him as your way of telling him you were enjoying it. You watch Chris as he gently pushes his fingers in and out of you, flicking his tongue against your clit. The warm sensation of his tongue against you and his fingers roughly sliding in and out becomes too hard to hold back, so you reach for a pillow to drown out your cries of pleasure. 

“Fuck fuck, oh my god. Chris!” your moans come out muffled by the pillow but Chris can still hear you. Hearing you call his name only gives him more confidence to go crazy, darting his tongue against your folds while pumping his fingers at a fast pace. Repetitive little ‘uh’s fall from lips as your legs quiver, and your hands fist the pillow as he builds you up to your climax. Right as you’re about to let go, he pulls away. The ghost of his lips making you whine at him, throwing the pillow off of your face, “Chris,” you groan at the loss of contact, only wanting needing more of him.

“Tell me baby,” Chris sounds as he rubs a hand down inside of your thigh, “tell me what you want,” brushing his lips against your knee and leaving a soft kiss. 

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “I need you to fuck me,” pulling your body up from the mattress, and smashing your lips into his. “Please,” you practically beg after pulling away, letting your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips, “I need you right now.”

Whatever magic spell Chris had you under was extremely impressive - and hard to get away from. No man had ever made you feel the way he did and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. Chris nods with urgency, stepping off of the bed to undress himself. Almost like an instinct, your hand makes its way between your thighs to pleasure yourself while you wait for him to undress. Your free hand finds its way to your breast, lightly clamping your nipple between your index finger and thumb. After Chris undresses, he hovers over you, taking in the amazing view of having the girl he’s wanted for the longest, masterbating in his bed. Dragging a thumb across your bottom lip and trailing it down to the breast you aren’t fondling. He pinches lightly at your nipple, “can’t wait for me, huh?” his voice stays hoarse from the groans he had been swallowing all night, “doesn’t look like you need me.”

His words make you stop abruptly, your hand flying from your swollen clit to his erection in one quick movement. He jumps at the contact, squeezing his eyes shut. “I told you I need you, so c’mere,” you bat your eyelashes at him, not letting him go as he takes a step forward. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m leaving and we’re never mentioning this again,” the words come out a bit more domineering than normal but you were tired of waiting. 

Chris’s mouth drops, mimicking the same O-shape that was stuck on your face when he had his head buried between your thighs. You couldn’t tell if he was turned on or taken back, knowing him he was probably both. You watch him as he sinks down next to you, letting his hands roam your body until they reach your heat once again. “Fuck,” he goans as he rubs you. You take it as the perfect opportunity to wrap your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking as much of him as you can in your mouth. “S-so fucking wet. So go-od, fuck,” he groans, the warm sensation of your head bobbing on his cock makes it hard for him to focus on pleasuring you. You felt like it was only right if you gave him amazing head just like he did to you. Chris’s hand rubs your back each time you pull back and push forwards like he’s giving you silent support, letting you know he enjoys it. As soon as he starts bucking his hips, indicating he’s close to finishing, you make sure to pull away, leaving him the same way he left you - needing you. 

A wild smirk stretches across his face and he opens his mouth to speak, “ahh fuck you,” he groans, earning a giggle from you. Chris positions himself between your legs. Chris rubs a few circles along your clit as he lines himself up with your opening. He applies pressure, pushing through your fold and into your body slowly. A loud moan escapes your lips making him look at you. His bottom lip clamped between his teeth, “Shhh I know, baby,” his voice soothes you in a way and you close your eyes. Chris lets his body hover over you closely, leaning down to your ear as he lets you adjust to his size, and trailing sloppy kisses from your ear to your neck. You buck against him, signaling him to move. Chris takes initiative, slowly pulling back and pushing deeper into you, earning a gasp from you. 

Chris rocks his hips back and forth, catching a rhythmic pattern, and hitting that certain spot inside of you. Your eyes widen at the feeling of your g-spot finally getting plowed into, something you’ve been needing for so long. “F-fuckk Chris,” you manage to get out, your voice getting stuck in your throat at first. In one swift motion, he pushes both of your legs to your chest so he can get better access to your dripping pussy. His other hand falls to your clit, rubbing it vigorously until your legs start to shake uncontrollably. He lets out a low chuckle, “already?” 

“Ahh- I can’t,” you whimper as fucks you into a blissful state, “please, please, Chris.” Your begging only gives him the motivation to go harder, pulling all the way out, and thrusting into you until you’re on the base of his cock. He continues the same motions, making your body shake against your own will. He props your legs up on his shoulders, letting them part slightly so he can cower down down to you. Chris peppers wet kisses all over your chest, pressing a few to your lips. As he fucks you into an incoherent state, your vision becomes fuzzy and clouded with white spots. Finally giving in to the warm tingling sensation in your stomach, you let your eyes roll back, “oh my- Chrisss!” 

Hearing you moan his name gives him the same familiar urge to fuck you to an obliterate state of mind. Small moans and cries fall from your lips while Chris plows deep inside you, filling you up right after you climax. He pulls out, earning a hiss from you, the loss of contact only makes you want him more. He lets his body collapse on top of you, laying a head on your chest, and planting another sloppy kiss against your right breast. 

“That was crazy good,” he pants before looking up at you. A smile spread across your lips as you come down from the high he just gave you, “crazy fucking good,” you tell him. A chuckle falls from his lips, earning a giggle from yours. 

Chris’s touch was too attentive, and you knew you’d be back for more. He gave you the best fuck of your life, easily. You felt pampered while he was fucking you, like you were the only thing that mattered to him, and for the moment you weren’t wrong. After seeing your love faces and cries of pleasure, he was head over heels for you, and he didn’t give a fuck what anyone had to say about it. He was determined to make you his.

[eyesxxyou]

My Hero

☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.3k

synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. until you find your life in danger because you stole something you shouldn't have

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, a bit of sub!hobie, riding, reverse cowgirl, oral (m receiving) a bit of anal play not much though, hobie being kinda whiny and needy.

You always had a way of coming back into Hobie’s life when he needed you to the very least. Just when he was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t head over heels obsessed with the Black Cat as he thought he was, that he’d be able to look at you one day and not have the irresistible urge to kiss you and take you wherever the two of you might be, whether you be allies or enemies that day. He’d think that smile of yours, filled with chaos and mischief, framed in the silver fangs of your piercings, was just like any other, and that he didn’t have every inch of your body committed to memory.

Then you’d pop back up from wherever you spent your down time and bring back with you all the emotions he thought he had discarded in the rubbish bin down the street as well as your usual additional bullshit that he always played his own part in. That’s how you ended up in his very own bed, his real bed, the one he sleeps in every night, in just a thong and a baby tee that says 'I love (the love is a heart) to make men cry' as your hair now black as the night sky.

He never told you where he lived. No one would have assumed that the vigilante Spider-Man would live on a canal boat. But you were smart, crafty. If anyone were to figure it out, it would have been you.

Hobie was just swinging back on to his docked boat when he felt the familiar tingle of his spidey-senses going off. The prickling of his hair standing as his body moved by its own fruition. He leapt out of the way just before one of your knives could catch him. It came from overhead, the top of his boat where you perched yourself. The knife lodged itself in the wooden deck between his booted feet and he looked up at you.

There it was. All those feelings. They disgusted him but he loved you. He loved your slightly violent ways of showing love that never leave him wounded for long. Your usually pure white hair now raven black in wild curls, bad luck and even worse intentions radiating off of you. The smallest twinkle of fondness in your eyes as you look at him with that grin of yours.

“You always gotta try ‘n kill me every time we meet?” Hobie asks you at you drop down from your perch in front of him with the agility of a cat and snatch up your knife from his deck. You’re in regular clothes with a duffle bag tossed over your shoulder and cat-ish makeup on your pretty face. “I never try to kill you, hon. Just testing your reflexes.” You tucked your knife away, Your hand coming to rest on his chest affectionately. “Miss me, Bee?”

Always. “‘Aven’ crossed ma min’, luv.” He spoke gruffly. You looked up at him with knowing eyes. “I missed you too.” You got up on your toes, your hand coming to the nape of his neck to pull him close and kiss him, a friendly hello to make up from your aggressive one. Hobie kissed you back immediately, didn’t even have to think about it, how body did all the work for him. He knew he should be asking questions. How the fuck did you figure out where he lived for one. But oh— it’s like you knew that kissing him would make him nice, malleable, agreeable, and dumb. Hobie’s not dumb. He’d wise up quick so you had to beat him to the punch.

“I need your help, Hobes.” You murmured against his lips before he kissed you once again in sloppy play fighting with your tongues. “I’m in trouble.”

“When are you no’?” He left out in a slight breathless chuckle, finally pulling away. Wised up. “Wha’cha do?”

You nipped softly at your bottom lip, containing a slight smile. But if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of fear behind those eyes. “I stole something I shouldn’t have.”

“Those are the only thin’ worth stealin’.”

“Bad people are after me, Hobie, and I need a place to lay low for a little bit.” Your lips twitched a little. Yes, definitely fear. “I need help and I heard Spider-Man is in the business of helping people.” It was definitely a shot at your pride. You hated admitting you needed help, spent years drowning because you denied everyone's attempts to throw you a life raft. Hobie knew you’d rather stab yourself in the foot. And that meant this was serious.

"Come on, le's ge' inside."

And that's why you're here in his bed, because the fear of being suffocated in your sleep in your own home left you paranoid. Hobie settled down beside you in his narrow bed with his arm tossed behind his head, the action pulling his shirt up just enough to reveal his naval and that beautiful happy trail leading down his low-hanging sweatpants. "Wha'cha take?"

"Nosey much?" Yet, you cozied up right beside him in his rather cushy bed. You liked the way he smelled, like musk and sweat and the faint hint of faded body wash. Some days, depending on the activities, he smelt metallic, like blood, and you loved that even more. You love his sharp, stoic beauty. Loved his hair and the unmarked flesh of his neck that was usually either bruised or cut in some way. Sometimes done by your own hand.

Hobie's hand was on your thigh, the pads of his fingers messaging your flesh as he looked at your face, dimly lit by the waning moonlight reflecting off the broad ocean and glittering into your face. Your lips were wet, full, pouty. Your eyes sharp and piercing. He could see the pretty peaks of your nipples beneath your shirt. He wanted to run his thumb across them, call you his pretty girl. Mumble into your mouth incoherent words of ignorant admiration. "You came t'me, lovie. I feel I gotta righ' to know wha' kinda trouble you're in."

You two couldn't keep your grubby paws off of each other, always stealing touches, slight caresses like you two were fooling anyone. Every fluid movement between you two, always playing off each other's last, was done like something of a ritualistic dance. You take something from him, he takes it back, whether by hand or by web, you get up close and with both of your quick instincts you're fighting over the objects of your desire, seeing who's wit will prevail in the end. Your banter often followed the same routine.

"Well, I feel I have the right to reserve that info. Jus' do your job, pretty boy. Keep me safe so people don't come and ruin this pretty face you like so much." You pull him close and place a soft kiss on his slender cheek before dropping the matter all together. "But— I am very grateful for your kindness. My hero." You press your lips against the shell of his ear, peppering kisses against his skin.

You shuffled about in his bed, maneuvering between his legs with your hands against his sweatpants to pull them down. "I want to thank you."

Hobie let out a breathy chuckle as you worked to pull his cock out from his pants. "I don't need thanks, par' of ma job, but I won' refuse one." Not with lips like yours and a sharp tongue that could turn so, so soft when put to good use.

Your hands held his half-hard cock, twitching with the pumping blood that made him grow harder by the second, and you stroked him softly, gathering saliva to spit on his tip and spread down his length. Hobie shuttered under your touch, looking down at you through hooded lids as his tongue poked out to wet his lip then nip at it. "Go easy." He murmured, knowing he mercilessly beat his cock earlier to the thought of you, not knowing when he might see that pretty body of yours again.

You always start so slow, feigning a sort of innocence about the way you kiss his leaking tip and suckle on it as you look up at him through your long lashes. You'd keep going on like this forever if you had the choice but Hobie was impatient and restless. Grunting with pleasure and disapproval, he'd tuck his fingers in the curls of your hair and get a nice, firm grasp before pushing your head down further.

You'd relent, let your jaw slack so he could sink his cock further into your mouth, the sensitive tip of his dick dragging across the plain of your tongue. He'd let out something of a strangled, choking whimper before biting his lip. "Fuckin'-" He'd let out in a breathy moan as his head would fall back and he'd guide you head up and down the length of his cock.

It happened every time and this was no different other than the slight way from the waves rocking the boat. His fingers were in your hair, guiding your movements as his dick slid along your tongue against your throat. "Goo', kitty." He stroked your head and pulled your head away to stroke the tip of his cock against your saliva-coated lips.

You took him all the way to the hilt, let him settle down your throat before swallowing. It drove him crazy, made him shiver as he pressed your face to his pelvis and coaxed you to do it again. You swallowed and swallowed before pulling your head back and swirling your tongue against the head of his cock. You bobbed your head at a nice, steady pace, reveling in every hiss that escaped his dark, pretty lips.

He was losing himself to you, to that mouth, to that dark gaze of yours. Head like this made him fall in love. Made him completely mad for you. And oh, you were bad, so bad and he needed you. He needed to be inside you, needed you in top of him.

Hobie moaned softly. "Come'ere." He pulled you off his cock and pulled you up the length of his body.

You kissed him, hand stroking his length in gentle strokes while you sat on his thighs. His tongue found yours, your teeth nipped at his full lip. "You like to pretend you don't miss me but you gotta miss head like that."

"You have no idea, luv."

You climbed further on top of him, kneeling above him with your hands caressing the sides of his pretty face. "Just lay back and let me thank you, hmm? I'm not always so grateful." You pushed him back against his few pillows. Hobie lied with a hand behind his head, watching as you got up and turned around to give him a nice view of your ass from behind.

You pulled your thong to the side, that pretty pussy of yours on display for him, nice and wet. You reached back and took him into you hand to drag the thick of his cock between your pussy lips, stroking your aching clit with his tip. You got him nice and wet with the creamy juices of your cunt before lining him up against your wanting entrance.

He slid in so nicely, the tip stretched your nether lips apart. Your back arched subtly as you pushed your ass back more and let him sink deeper within you. Hobie pulled a single hand from behind his head and grabbed a handful of your ass to get a better view,

That pussy of yours could make a grown man weep. So wet, so tight, so mind-numbingly soft. You knew how to move your hips in just the right fashion to make him want to cum inside every single time. Just the sight of your lips hugging his cock was enough to make him crumble in ways no other could make him. He’s whimpered for you for fucks sake and one rested in his throat right at this very moment.

You sat in his lap with his member sitting snugly in you. You rocked your hips nice and slow, circling in a way that left you shuddering. Hobie squeezed your ass then smacked it with a sharp swing of his palm. “Don’ start teasin’ now, kitty. Show me.” He pressed his hand against your lower back just enough to get a nice view of his cock inside of you. His thumb rubbed circles against your asshole and earned him something of a whimper.

You placed your hands on his thighs as leverage and raised your hips, moaning at the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your sensitive walls. You went until only the tip remained before sitting back down and taking him in once more.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" The last one was long and drawn out as you felt him nuzzle against your cervix and press against that soft place in your walls that made you grip his thighs tight and need him a little more.

Hobie cupped your ass with his hand, this thumb still tentatively rubbing circles against your tight rim of muscles as you took him over against and again. That pretty pussy of yours so idyllic it looked more like a fleshlight than anything. It gripped him like a vice, like a sin, oh you were such a sin and you felt so good.

"Shit, luv– fuck. Treatin' me good f'once aren'cha?"

You rose until your pussy let him go with a nice, wet pop and swiftly turned around to straddle him as you were before. "I can treat you so much better, Hobes." You reached back, let him take your cunt again and watched his face as his brows furrowed and his mouth fell open with the beginnings of a moan.

Your eyes rolled back as he entered you fully, lids fluttering. You stroked his head and rutted your hips against his own, your clit stroking against his pelvis. You moaned softly, looking down at his pretty face looking equally as fucked out.

Hobie's hands grappled at your hips, thighs, and ass, unsure of where he wanted his hands the most. "Keep fuckin' me like tha'." His hands finally settled on your waist, forced you up and down on his cock like his personal sextoy. His hands were under that little baby tee you were wearing, squeezing handfuls and fondling your breasts.

Hobie's head rolled back, his eyes fluttering shut with the pleasure of it all. With a pussy like this, if you asked him to give up being Spider-Man, he would. With a pussy like this, you could ask him anything and he'd agree with you. So nice and tight and wet. He could feel that slick of yours dribbling down his length, rolling in clear pearls over his balls.

You grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at you. "Keep those eyes on me, Bee. Pretty eyes like those, I wanna see'em." Those eyes that look at you in a hooded daze, not a thought in that brain of his just you, you, you. His hands stroked the sides of your body, cupped your tits, grappled at your hips, forced you to fuck him harder.

He reached between your legs and stroked your swollen clit with his digits. He needed you to cum for him, before him, you had conditioned him like Pavlov. He can't cum unless he knows you've cum first. He needs to see that expression of absolute euphoria across your face to finally know relief himself.

"Please cum f'me, luv. Please, please, I need i'. Y'know I do. Please." Hobie panted and begged. And oh the way your pussy squeezed him in segments, pulsing and quivering with the beginnings of an orgasm.

You squeezed his jaw harder, looked him in the eyes with your forehead pressed against his. The tips of your noses touches, the heat of your breath met the others and you felt the desperation in his breath.

He pinched and rolled your clit between his fingers, watched you lose your breath and ride a little harder. "Come on, luv. 'm good fo' i'. Jus' cum f'me." He kept murmuring, watching your expression, playing with the clit he knew from top to bottom. Your pussy was beginning to make a nice, creamy squelch around his cock, your cunt quivering with your climax.

Your hips bucked as you sat in his lap and pulsed around his cock. "Fuck, Hobes. Shit, oh my- fuckin' God." He stroked your clit through your orgasm, your rocking hips milking his dick, a womb begging for his load. You were left shuddering uncontrollably with eyes barely able to stay open. Oh you were high on it, dick like this doesn't come by often and you were intent on enjoying it as you always do.

You fucked him hard, left a creamy ring around the base of his cock, fucked him because you needed him to cum because that was the whole point of this. You liked the face he made when he came. The slight smile, a daze in his gaze, the complete loss of control of every extremity.

He submitted himself entirely to you, let you spit in his mouth, slap his cheek, do whatever you wanted to him because he can feel nothing but the way your pussy milks him for all he's worth.

"My hero," you cooed. Stroking his cock as he came in nice, thick ropes inside you. His large hands squeezed your ass, your thighs, your waist, grappled at you as the very breath got knocked out of him. His lips sought out yours as they always eventually do with a wanton moan. He kissed you like he was in love, all tongue and teeth, all consuming. A kiss that says 'don't leave just yet, let's just sit here'.

You know for certain that he's in love with you and you find it adorable. You could say you reciprocated it, could say you wanted a nice, quiet life with him. But you both knew you weren't built for that, not when your allyship was so unstable and one moment you could be working together for a greater cause and the next you have a knife to his throat and intend on taking a little more than just a little blood. It's never hard feelings, a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do to get ahead under the oppressive eye of fascist government.

Hobie half wondered if you were just here to get the drop on him, make him let his guard down to attack him. There could never be trust between the two of you, not complete trust anyway.

"You know we can't, Bee." You pulled away from him, pulled off of his softening cock and laid down beside him with your thong settling back into place. "As much as I'd love to, you know we're not compatible."

Hobie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I beg to diffa. We're compatible, we're fuckin' soulmates. I jus' can' figure out if we're sworn to be lovers or enemies." You look up at him, at his distant eyes that don't look back at you but instead out of a narrow window at the silver sea.

"What do you think's gonna happen while I'm here?"

Hobie finally looked down at you, his lips slowly pulling into something of a lopsided smile. "We're gonna fuck a lo', eventually hate each otha a lil' more, still fuck while we hate each otha. You'll probably try t'kill me at some poin' 'n 'm okay wit' i'. But at the end o' the day, I ain' gotta Scooby Doo, mate."

You sit up, lean in, and kiss him. In another universe, you could love him without hindrance. You've tried to love different versions of him but none compare to your Hobie, not even the Prowler Hobie you stumbled upon and made yours for a little while.

No one could compare to your hero.

[https-florals]

daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.” 

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. 

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside. 

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!” 

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three). 

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it. 

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing. 

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that. 

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,” 

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water. 

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line. 

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp. 

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support. 

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds. 

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.  

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it. 

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands. 

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger. 

It’s probably his favorite possession. 

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

“Hey,” you whine, reaching for his hand. 

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue. 

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his. 

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash. 

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand. 

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine. 

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head. 

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[hederasgarden]

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Sometime during the last few months things shifted between you and Scott, and your mutual dislike turned into an entirely different beast. Pairing: Scott Miller (Twisters) x F!Reader Word Count: 2.3 K  Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Grad school AU. Unprotected PIV, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, and a little bit of mean/dominant Scott.  A/N: Thank you to @ryebecca @a-reader-and-a-writer and @seeyalaterinnovator for looking this over. 

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

“Keep this up and that internship is yours,” Dr. Harding promises, flashing you an encouraging smile while she packs up her satchel. 

You can hardly contain your grin, biting your bottom lip to keep it from breaking into a full-blown smile. With only one internship spot available, every graduate student worth their salt was vying for the position, Scott included. You glance over your shoulder and, as expected, catch him scowling at you from across the lecture hall. 

Dr. Harding follows your gaze. “You’ll encounter plenty of Scotts in your career, but none of them will be half as good as you,” she assures you. “Just keep your head down and focus on doing great work.”

Scott lingers by the door as students file past him, and it’s only after the room empties that he finally slips out into the hallway. You know he’ll be waiting for you. A rush of anticipation makes your hands tremble, and you clasp them tightly to steady yourself.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” she encourages. 

You shift back on your heels and nod, feeling her supportive pat on your arm. 

“I won’t,” you lie.

The reality is that you paid entirely too much attention to Scott throughout the last two years of grad school and lately, he’s returned that attention tenfold.

At first, you kept an eye on him out of self-preservation after he snatched your chosen thesis project right from under you during your first year of grad school. You were too trusting then, swayed by his handsome face and charm. After that, you were determined to ignore him, but he dogged your every step, stealing your reserved time in the open labs and seizing every chance to undermine you in class.

By your second year, you got smarter, letting him believe he had the upper hand while you worked quietly behind the scenes. For every biting remark Scott directed your way, you responded with a falsely sweet smile. The first victory was securing the TA position with Dr. Davis — an opportunity Scott had boasted was his for the taking. Next, you managed to snap up all three professors Scott wanted for his thesis committee. That win felt especially satisfying, watching that deep flush crawl up his neck as he tried to rein in his temper. 

This dance was thrilling in a way you hadn’t expected. You never considered yourself competitive, but you were starting to realize you just hadn’t encountered anyone who could truly challenge you before. Now, competing for the highest grade in the classes you shared has become second nature, and stealing each other’s open lab time is a regular occurrence. But, sometime during the last few months things shifted, and your mutual dislike turned into an entirely different beast.  

The first time a fight with Scott ended with his mouth on yours, you froze – wide-eyed and too stunned to respond. He held your gaze easily, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. Scott was entirely confident until the silence stretched on, and you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his bright blue eyes. Even though it wasn’t your nature, you let him linger in those feelings, savoring the sight of him looking unsettled. It only lasted a moment and since then, you’d never seen anything but his usual cocky self-assuredness each time you ended up underneath him.

Unsurprisingly, you find Scott waiting for you in the hall. He’s wearing one of your favorite outfits, a white button-down shirt underneath a blue sweater that’s rolled up to his elbows. With one foot crossed over the other and his arms folded across his chest, he looks completely unbothered leaning against the wall. You ignore him and keep walking, fully aware of how much it irritates him when you deny him attention. Scott’s loafers squeak against the floor as he pushes off the wall to follow you. With his long legs, he quickly catches up, walking close enough that his shoulder brushes yours. The heady scent of his cologne tickles your nose and you inhale quietly. 

“You done playing kiss ass?” he asks.

“It’s called being a nice person,” you reply. “And, besides, we were just talking.”

He scoffs and moves in front of you, blocking you from continuing. He’s clearly still pissed that you outshone him in class earlier. You honestly didn’t mean to this time — it was just your eagerness to snag the coveted intern spot. But when you saw the intense, angry look in his eyes, you couldn’t help but keep going. Watching his jaw tighten and his pouty pink lips flatten into a firm line was fast becoming your favorite sight. 

“Not everyone wants to hear you talk," Scott growls. “You’ve been running that smart mouth all day, acting like you’re the star student.”

There’s something about how he talks to you, with that edge of annoyance and jealousy that makes your whole body tingle. 

“I was just answering the questions,” you say, equal parts thrilled and terrified when his expression darkens. 

“Shut up,” he hisses, grabbing your arm and yanking you into an abandoned office. 

The soft click of the door plunges the room into semi-darkness. The only light comes from the afternoon sun filtering through the shuttered blinds. It smells dusty and stale, but you don’t have time to dwell on that as Scott pushes you forward. Your knees collide with a wooden desk, and your hands shoot out to brace yourself against it. Scott rips your backpack from your shoulders.

“Scott, what —”

“I don’t want to hear you talk,” he growls.

He grabs the back of your neck and forces your cheek against the cool wood while his other hand caresses the swell of your ass over your dress. Nervous energy skitters down your spine when both hands disappear a second later, your mind working overtime to anticipate his next move. 

“Spread your legs,” he commands.

He hardly gives you enough time to comply before he's impatiently kicking them apart. The tickle of his fingers dragging up your inner thigh has your skin tingling in anticipation. He rubs you through your underwear, two fingers circling your clit until you grow damp enough for him to feel through the cloth. You circle your hips, eyes closing as you surrender to sensation only for them to fly open a moment later when he strikes your ass hard enough to jolt the desk. 

You tense and he chuckles, fingers continuing to tease you without providing any relief. Every time you start to relax he delivers another smack and soon enough you’re moaning, desperate little pleas falling from your lips. You want him to really touch you and sink those thick fingers inside like he’s done before but maddeningly, he doesn’t. Every part of you is warm and trembling. 

“Scott,” you exhale, pushing up on your forearms. 

You’re shocked that he lets you stand, but that melts away when he spins you to face him. His lips claim yours hungrily, his tongue nearly choking the breath from you. When he rips his mouth from yours you’re panting and he’s flushed. 

“Get on the desk,” he demands.

You scramble back, but he’s quick to step between your legs and grab the back of your thighs to help you up. He has your underwear off in a blink and sinks to his knees.  When his hot breath falls against the most intimate part of you, a surprised squeak escapes, melting into a low moan when Scott runs his tongue through your folds, lapping greedily at the taste of you.

It’s noisy the way he eats you out and you’re mortified by how wet it all sounds. You squeeze your eyes closed, threading your fingers through his hair as he continues to devour you. It feels undeniably good, better than anything a man has done to you before. Not that you had much to compare it to; you were too busy chasing your parents' expectations and trying to prove your own worth. 

“Please, oh please,” you whimper, your voice fizzling out when his tongue pushes inside your warmth. 

The hand around your hip slides down and Scott’s mouth leaves your cunt. You’re about to beg him to continue when his thumb and forefinger roll your clit, creating a deliciously painful pleasure that makes your body quake. Then his mouth is back on you, his thick tongue working together with his fingers. The coil in your belly is pulled taut and your skin tingles. You’re close and he seems to realize it, rubbing your bundle of nerves in an unrelenting, circular motion. It’s overwhelming and you don’t even realize that broken, needy sound is coming from you. If you were in your right mind you’d be an anxious mess about the idea of someone hearing the two of you but Scott has you all twisted up.

Part of you expects him to pull back and make you beg to come, but to your relief, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he seems to redouble his efforts and you peak with his name on your lips, almost missing his low groan. The muscles of your thigh tremble, your body overwrought but he works you through it all. When he finally pulls away you’re breathless and sated. You lay there, panting and overworked. For a moment you forget he’s even there, but then you hear his belt clink. You try to sit up but he’s quicker, shoving you back down.

“Think we were done already?” He asks. God, you certainly hoped not. “What?” He questions, “No smart remarks now?”

Before you can gather your wits he’s laying his body over yours and pushing inside. You gasp for breath when he lays his full weight on you, pressing you into the desk. There’s nothing for you to do but lay here and let him fuck you.

“Thought about this during class,” he grits out. “What do you think everyone would say if they saw you now? We both know you're not the good girl you pretend to be.”

“I am good,” you argue.

“I’m gonna make you be good,” he replies. His breath fans over the side of your face as he leans in close, his tone smug when he speaks again. “You like it when I talk to you like that?” 

Your lips part but the only sound that comes out is a long, low moan as he slows his pace to deepen his thrusts. He gropes your chest and hooks his fingers into the neckline of your dress to pull the fabric low enough to expose your lacy bra. 

“Did you wear this for me?” Scott asks, rolling his hips forward. You grasp his wrist and grunt, thighs tensing around his hips. “I’m keeping the underwear,” he pants. 

Even if you wanted to respond to him you can’t because his mouth is on yours the second he stops speaking. He feels indescribably good inside you and the delicious pressure he's building in your cunt makes you feel dizzy. You’d do anything he asked just to come and Scott seems to know it. He leans back and his pace slows until he’s completely still, his hips flush with yours. 

A needy whine rises in your throat at the sudden shift in pace. You need him to move and you lift your hips but Scott pins you to the desk easily. He tilts his head and stares at you, amused.

“You gonna let me come inside you this time?”

You shake your head, the no on your lips dying when Scott’s thumb strums your clit. Even during your first time together, he seemed to know how to play your body and today is no different. 

“No?” he questions. “See I think that you will, good girl.” That phrase — one you both love and loathe — has you clenching around him and Scott chuckles, sounding breathless. “Yeah, I got your number. Knew it from day fucking one.”

You keen and reach back to grasp the edge of the desk. When he starts fucking you in earnest you wrap your legs around Scott’s waist.

“Tell me, good girl. Tell me I can come inside you."

“Scott, please.”

“Please what?” he asks. His hair falls over his forehead as he leans down on his elbows and his mouth hovers inches from yours  “I know you wanna be my good girl.”

“I do,” you gasp.

“Then say it,” he demands. “Beg me.”

“Please, Scott. I want…” your voice trails off, mind working overtime to string words together. “I want you to come inside me.” The words come out in a rush, your face warm with humiliation.

Scott responds by curling his body over yours, driving into you hard enough to have the desk groaning. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and bury your face in the side of his neck. Praise spills from his lips, about how good you are for him and how you feel, tight and hot around him.

You peak just as he does, wave after wave of pleasure washing over your body. A low, almost pained sound escapes his clenched lips as he spills inside you. He gives a few more abortive, shallow thrusts and you clench hard around him, your moan mingling with his. You stay tangled together as you both find your breath again. Scott surprises you by brushing his lips over yours almost sweetly, his hand cradling the side of your face. 

“I’m going to think about this later,” he whispers. “Knowing I’ll be dripping out of you while you sit in our next lecture.”

His words have their desired effect and you look away, embarrassed and turned on again. You feel his fingertips trace your bottom lip. “Maybe next time I’ll come here. Hmmm.”

Your whole body warms, your chest brushing against his as you draw a breath. His clever words always leave you feeling this way, and for a moment, you wish he would be struck dumb. Clearing your throat, you lift your lashes to meet his gaze, a sweet smile curving the corner of your lips as an idea takes shape.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want,” you tell him, watching his blue eyes darken with lust and anticipation. “It can be your consolation prize after I’ve won the internship.”

[sundew199]

Doll Face

tags: Shanks x f!reader, cum play, oral m!recieving, facials, throat fucking

Kinktober day 10: cum play for @alt-er-love-requiem

!!minors dni!!

The floorboards creaked with your weight shifting side to side, hands behind your back with the sun from the porthole searing into your skin. He asked you to wait for him, needing to wrap up one last thing before joining you in his cabin.

You'd teased him earlier about looking stressed, in need of relief and well, Shanks took that seriously. Leaning over just enough to whisper in your ear all the naughty ideas he had running through his mind. Always the one to please, you nodded back to him, walking off with a purposeful sway in your hips just to sell the thoughts in his own mind.

Now, your stomach twisted and turned at the ideas he spoke to you, how he wanted to use you, play with you, see your pretty face when he's finally done having his fun. Shanks had women enamored with him and you were no exception, sex literally oozed off of him, like it commanded the room wherever he went. Men feared and boasted about the emperor, how his aura literally brought men to their knees. Women did the same, but not for the same reasons men talked about.

"You waited."

Looking up from staring off into space with the sound of his chipper voice, the broad smile wrinkling the ends of his scar and how oddly joyful he looked rather than aroused.

"Why wouldn't I?" Humming back with seduction, craning your neck out with each step he took closer to you, his shoes scraping the old wood boards.

"Thank you doll." Returning the same smile, voice warm and inviting like he was trying to throw you off for some reason. His only hand came out to stroke across your cheek, use his thumb to trace your bottom lip, examining you. "On your knees."

The command violently tugged at the knot in your stomach, forcing your eyes open and still being met with the sweetness in his face, conflicting with the implication of his words.

Doing as told, getting down on your knees in front of him, Shanks stepped forward, bringing you face to face with his crotch. There was a slight tent in the material and if you didn't already know how big he was then you would've assumed he was already fully hard. His hand came down to cradle the back of your head, admiring you from above and how compliant you were for him.

"Now if it's too much, you can always tell me to stop."

"I know."

"Good girl. Care to do the honors?" Letting his voice turn airy and light, close to whispering as he waited with anticipation for your deft hands to undo the barrier that were his trousers.

Trying not to show him how much those two certain words affected you and sent shivers down your spine, you scooted forward with both hands in front of you to snap the single button open, sighing with a moan as his cock sprung out. You were right in the assumption that he was only half hard, needing your fine skill to bring him all the way.

Pressing the tip to your lips, letting the small bead of pre-cum roll down from your bottom lip to your chin, you shot your eyes up slowly, eager to catch the reaction of the man. Shanks merely smiled coyly, moving the hand from the back of your head to hold one side of your jaw, sneaking his thumb to your lips to thumb your bottom one down.

"Wanna paint your pretty face doll." Moving his thumb away to let you do as you pleased, comfortable enough with letting you guide your own actions.

Taking in a sharp inhale, parting your lips to suction them around the very end of his cock, your tongue snuck forth to gather the continuously leaking pre. He groaned quietly at that, chest heaving deeply with intent to compose himself. You smiled the best you could back at him, moaning intentionally while also sneaking your hands down to cup and cradle your tits. Shanks saw and clenched his jaw, always having a thing for your perfect tits, liked watching them bounce as you rode him or when they'd jostle from taking his cock deep in your throat.

"Let me see them, sweetheart."

Another command that had you pressing your thighs closer together, wondering how the low deep voice could sway your actions so easily, make you comply like some animal listening to its handler. You liked it, there was so question about it that being ordered around by infamous man had you bending and begging. Shanks was aware of it, used it to his advantage when he wanted but never to the point of overuse.

Slipping your fingers underneath the thin strap of your tank top, you pushed the tight hugging fabric all the way down until it rested at your waist, tits free for his admiration. He sighed with a half smile, pushing his hips forward until more of his cock was disappearing into your mouth. It didn't give you enough time to fully relax your throat but a part of you liked the smidge of roughness that came with his impatience.

Humming delightfully around the shaft, taking him down a little past half way and coming off to suck around the head, repeating the motions enough until you were ready to take him down all the way. There wasn't much coming from his end, just heavy breaths and quiet groans, completely enraptured by the sight of you sucking his cock like it were a skill to be honed.

If he weren't so big and wide you may have been able to do more from the get go, but it took patience before you could press your nose all the way to his groin and let him rest his cock there for as long as he wanted. Knowing that's what he probably wanted, you worked one of your hands around the base, matching the speed of your mouth and dragging the saliva down all the way. His hips then twitched forward, shoving himself down a bit deeper than intended but nothing in you minded.

"Eager today huh?" Laughing a bit and swiping some of the saliva pooling down your chin away, swiping it over your painfully hard nipple, making you moan. Shanks purred at your reaction, deciding he wanted to be greedy now and take you for all you're worth.

Grasping the back of your head with a familiar tenderness, he held you still to switch the rolls, fucking down your throat. It was fast and rough, abusing the warmth and tightness that could compare to your pussy, using you like he always did and how you always wanted him too.

The noises increased in volume with each thrust, the deep breathing along with the grunts and groans were going straight to your cunt, squeezing your thighs together impossibly tight. Fuck it was so good, so messy and uncoordinated, how you preferred it sometimes over soft and sweet. Shanks tended to be selfish when it came to you, in more ways than one and thank god he wasn't shy to do so.

"Missed you doll, missed this." Abruptly confessing which wasn't unusual for him when he was like this, allowing a bit of his truer feelings to come forth.

You blinked the tears out of your eyes to look at him, seeing how the little droplets rolling down your cheeks spurred him on, holding the back of your head tighter and slamming his dick harsher down your throat. You moaned and whined around the flesh bruising your throat, finding the best way to convey how much you enjoyed being used for his pleasure. It was working to your advantage, noticing the pinched brows and parted lips releasing continuously trembling breaths from his lungs. For a moment, you swore he was going to cum down your throat, until his hand fell from your head and his cock left your mouth, his fist giving himself the last few pumps he needed before warm ropes of cum were landing on your face.

By habit, your mouth fell open and your tongue rolled out, catching some of the tangy release but leaving it be until he was finished. Luckily Shanks had enough decorum to avoid your eyes, aiming for his favorite spots, cheeks, mouth and chin. He laughed on a breath, lazily pumping just the head of his cock as the last of his cum squeezed out. Carefully, he took what was on his hands, leaning over to smear it on your nipples, pulling a surprised squeak out of you.

"So pretty doll face." Smugly declaring as he gathered whatever didn't land on your tongue on his fingers, proceeding to press against your tongue. "Swallow for me."

And you did, happily doing as you were told and going the extra mile to suck and clean his cum stained hands, keeping your eyes on his and watching how quickly his composure began to slip all over again. You were an easy weakness, and how could you not be with how complaint you were for one of the four emperors. Shanks smiled, taking his fingers back and walking past you to sit lay on the bed.

"I'll let you have a turn, if you want." Implying just what you were expecting, smiling like an idiot and coming off on the floor, stripping on your way there. As greedy as he could be, Shanks had no issue of letting you be as greedy as well, a metal agreement that benefit the both of you.

"Might be here a while." Standing off to the side of the bed, arrogant smile creasing your features.

"I've got all day sweetheart."

[mcflymemes]

ANYONE BUT YOU (2023) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

you still live at 28 fuckboy lane?

there's a reason why you're alone. no one can trust you.

i still think about the night we spent together.

these last few days really made me realize how much i miss you.

that night at your place, no matter how it ended, it was still pretty amazing.

so... you gonna kiss me now?

you'll always be my rock bottom.

okay, nuzzle my neck. get in there.

we are not together. we were faking it the whole time.

we have to kick it up a notch. make it feel like we're in the ga-ga stage.

you know, i feel really bad about that.

did you catch him measuring his dick with a ruler app?

you scared the shit out of me.

we're getting pretty good at faking it.

it doesn't matter how we found out.

permission to put my left hand on your right buttock?

okay, not in circles. it's not a magic lamp.

are you not wearing underwear?

we do not inherit the earth. we just borrow it from our creatures.

i have a better idea. you just let me do everything.

thanks for being so cool about all of this.

you want a coffee? it's the best n the world.

there's only one bed, but we hung a shower curtain in the middle.

hi. where's your bathroom?

i could have done it myself, but whatever. thanks.

thanks for not stealing my coat.

is that really a two person job?

you would let me die?

they think i'm throwing my life away.

no, that was rude. i apologize to anyone that was listening.

i don't know. i'm not good at this, sorry.

i'm from a different generation.

i'm not talking about love. i'm talking about dick.

all that matters is that we're together.

that's not me anymore. i'm free now. i'm deprogrammed.

no way, that man does not have a heart.

well, that didn't take long.

if i never ask you for anything ever again, can you please just lay off of me this weekend?

let's just have a moment to calm ourselves.

no one cares. no one can see us.

we were on a break, asshole.

either way, someone's lying to someone.

i must have really gotten under your skin.

you used none of those terms properly.

i cannot believe i just said that out loud.

i'm sorry. my life is a disaster right now.

look at this place. it looks like every serial killer reenactment documentary.

no matter how broken something is, there's always a way to fix it.

this whole thing is so new to me.

i don't really like labels, but i like you a whole bunch.

so are you going to ask me out now?

so if we were getting attacked by giant spiders, you would not be able to protect us?

you two know each other?

i'm going to go grab a drink. door's that way if you're looking to sneak out. i know that's your thing.

i'm going to get a drink and toast to never seeing you again.

how crazy is it that we're on the same plane?

why do so many of us feel stuck?

you don't even play tennis.

we're fine if he just stays away from me.

you're such a romantic.

i was hoping you'd come. i wanted to message you, but i didn't know how you'd feel about hearing from me.

they're also a little worried how you're gonna react to all this.

you have a little something in your teeth.

we need to come up with a game plan.

you are so terrible at this.

it's harder than you think.

they know i would never go out with a guy like you.

we just suck face in front of everybody.

you're calling me a fuckboy like it's an insult? i own that shit.

let's just be affectionate. i know it's a foreign concept for you.

you were the one who said there's a thin line between love and hate.

i think it was more of a euphemism for crying alone.

i definitely didn't hate you.

last night was the first thing i haven't regretted in a long time.

i love the weird way you stick your hand down my pants.

[jirsungs]

ep 6: the latte lounge incident

word count: 2.1k words (i write a lot...)

Much time has passed since Jaemin's last text, and you were almost done putting the finishing touches to your makeup and appearance. Once you were done, you walked outside of your apartment and locked the door shut behind you.

Not even a minute later, a car honks from behind you, and you turn around to see your dark-haired friend as the culprit, sitting in the driver's seat of his white Honda Civic. You walk down to Jaemin's car, stopping in front of the passenger car door, which he opens for you.

The second you sit down and shut the door, you notice the many decorations around Jaemin's car. You forgot how decorative the man is.

A Kawaii plushie hanging on his rearview mirror catches your attention the most, you hold in a laugh seeing it.

"Um, since when did you have that?" Jaemin doesn't get what you're referring to until he follows your eyes and finds them eyeing his light pink bunny plushie hung by a darker pink sparkly chain.

Your friend claps his hand in realization, "Ahhh, that!" He sees you still attempting to hold in your laugh, "Ning bought it for me, and don't laugh! There's nothing wrong with a man loving and enjoying cute plushies!"

You ignore his plea and start giggling at his protest, "Just drive, Jaem."

He doesn't scold you for laughing. But before he starts the car's ignition, you see him jut out his bottom lip in a pout, making you giggle even more.

“Holy shit, that's Latte Lounge?” Jaemin makes a hum of affirmation in response to your amazed question. He continues to pass the coffee shop to find a parking space while you are busy, admiring the place. It's decorated cutely with two round tan-colored tables with matching umbrellas out front, an espresso-colored awning to help with the shade, and two lanterns on both sides of the awning. What amazed you the most was the string of people lining up outside the door.

Jaemin puts the car in park when he answers your question again, “I heard it's even prettier inside. I think the manager's a woman too.”

“That explains the nice decorations.” is the last thing you say before you and Jaemin exit the car to walk up to the line and join the wait.

Turns out Jaemin was right, the coffee shop was somehow decorated ten times prettier than the outside. The aroma of coffee beans and the chatter of customers welcomed you and it somehow felt comforting. You observe customers all around, your eyes skim through the room as you see a group of four sitting on the bean bags placed in the corner of the shop as they chat amongst themselves, a couple playing Connect 4 on one of the coffee tables near the board games area, and when you look up to the ceiling, you found it to be lit up with multiple hanging fairy lights. No wonder this place gained popularity two weeks after opening. 

Fortunately for both of you, the wait ended up shorter than you thought. For the number of people waiting, you and Jaemin guessed it would be a twenty-minute wait until it got to your turn, but here you were, already one person away from the cashier.

Your eyes slightly widen when you see who it is. Haechan? Rockway's lead singer? The man who absolutely rocked MJ's P.Y.T.?

It was different seeing him in a barista uniform. You’ve only seen him in his casual attire. But it wasn't a bad difference, it was different in a good way. 

As you’re both signaled for your turn, you notice how he's busy clearing out the previous order to look up at the both of you. 

Haechan's still pressing on the pad when he says, “Hi, welcome to Latte Lounge, how can I–” But pauses when he looks up and recognizes Jaemin. “What the hell, Jaemin! How’s it going, dude?” His once forced happy posture was now comfortably bright.

You found the sudden happiness plastered on Haechan’s face upon seeing Jaemin to be endearing. 

He leans over the counter to bring your friend in for one of those dap-and-hug guys always do and Jaemin immediately returns it with a tap on the guy’s back. With you now feeling awkward, you clear your throat in hopes Jaemin will get your mental signal and formally introduce you to his friend.

And thank god he does. Upon hearing your cough, Jaemin then turns to you, “Oh! By the way, Haechan, this is Y/N. She’s one of the friends I brought to your guys’ performance last Friday.” 

“Ohhh… so you’re Y/N.” Haechan, as you remember, says with a teasing tone. But just as you're about to question it, another guy who's preparing drinks in the back cuts you off with a yell to Haechan to focus on working. 

“Yeah yeah, I got it, Jeno!” Haechan yells back before giving you and Jaemin an apologetic look, mouthing a “sorry.”

Jeno… Jeno… Like, Jeno the bass player Jeno?! Since when did they all work at Latte Lounge? You think.

Wait. That doesn't include him, right?

Haechan, finally asking for your orders, interrupts your mental dilemma, and you don’t seem to remember what you were stressing about after you get your order number.

“Haechan, are you seriously sure this is gonna work?” Jeno doubtfully asks his friend for the seventh time.

The both of them were hiding in the employee's area after Haechan whined for Jisung to take his place at the cashier. When the younger one finally gave in, Haechan immediately pushed Jeno inside, leading them here, stuck in an area that reeked of coffee bean bags and dairy products so Haechan could discuss his plan with his friend for the—oh wait, he doesn’t remember the number—of times.

Haechan lets out an exasperated sigh at the repeated question, “Jeno, you’re stressing for no reason. Trust me, it’ll work. We’ll just have Jisung give Y/N and Jaemin their drinks and once he’s at their table, I’ll bump myself into him and—”

“Just don’t make it obvious or overdo it.”

Haechan frowns at the response, “I’m hurt that you really don’t trust me with this plan. I won’t do either of those things because once I push him into Y/N, her latte will spill on her shirt, PTSD, am I right?” He jokingly elbows Jeno’s side but stops when he sees no reaction from him so he continues, “Okay, after that, you party pooper, that’ll give Jisung the opportunity to fix what happened the first time and apologize by helping her out! See, isn't it a great plan?”

“Well… a great plan wouldn't include making it worse for him because now she'll end up with a second stained outfit and no caramel latte which may I remind you, Jaemin paid for that. Also, shouldn't we at least let Jisung in about this?”

Annoyed with Jeno's constant protests, Haechan shoves the round black serving tray in his friend's arms and pushes him outside the swinging doors in Jisung's direction, “That'll just ruin the authentic reaction, so just trust me, he's gonna thank us for this. Now, go get ‘em, tiger!”

“But I really think we sh—”

Once pushed outside, Jeno is suddenly met with Jisung's front and his sentence never gets finished. The younger one jumps at the close proximity.

“God! Geez, Jeno!” 

The older one only gives a small smile, almost resembling a puppy before apologizing, “My bad, Ji. Hey, uh—” Jeno's eyes shift to the round tray which Jisung follows, “Order number 89 is ready, can you serve their drinks to their table for me?”

Jeno tries his best to stay convincing but it only makes Jisung raise one of his eyebrows in suspicion, “And why can't you serve it?”

That one simple question causes Jeno's brain cogs to stop working because his attempt to be convincing is now replaced with hesitant stutters.

“Uh, well, you see…”

Back in the employee's area, Haechan is watching Jeno's performance behind the swinging doors and is left impatient because of how bad he's doing. He lets out a quiet groan before walking out to help him. He stands behind the helpless man and puts his hands on his shoulders as a show of support.

“It's time for Jeno's break, Sungie. That's why he needs you to take his place.” 

Haechan's tone sounds a little bit too casual and it leads Jisung to glance back and forth between both of his friends. Though he's still confused by Jeno’s sudden change in behavior, Haechan sounded normal and that was enough to convince him.

“Oh. Okay. Jeno, why couldn't you just say that then?”

Jeno shrugs instead of giving a verbal answer out of fear that he’ll make the situation more obvious.

Jisung gets the round tray from Jeno’s hands and walks over to the metal counter and places the finished caramel latte and iced Americano on the tray. Just before he’s about to walk out of the working station, he eyes his friends once more. Jeno’s still anxious while Haechan gives a tight-lipped smile. 

They're acting weird. But then again, that's normal.

He scans the place for a table with table number 89, once spotting it, he begins to walk over, his hands carefully holding the tray to avoid it spilling. As he’s walking up to the table, he recognizes Jaemin but sees he’s accompanied by a woman. Your back is facing him and your hair isn’t familiar to him.

Is he… on a date? Jisung thinks.

But right when he reaches the table, you and Jaemin look over, and the next thing you know, your drinks spill on it… and your outfit. Again. 

Neither of you has time to react because Jisung’s panicked placing of napkins and apologies distract you. “I am… so sorry. You guys can have drinks for free. I’ll pay for—” That’s when he finally sees you. Y/N.

Oh shit. 

And you snap. “Great, another ruined outfit. Are you doing this on purpose, like, do you enjoy this or something?” You bitterly dab the multiple napkins in your hand, trying your best to lessen the spill from spreading on your outfit. Your malice tone from Johnny’s party makes its appearance once again.

Similar to what happened during your interaction at Johnny’s, Jisung is just as confused as to why you’re being so difficult when his attempt to help you is purely an act done out of generosity.

“What the hell is your problem? Do you seriously think that lowly of me?”

You take your focus away from your shirt to look at the now defensive young man in front of you in disbelief, “Yeah, I do. This is your second time doing this, and the first time, you didn’t even apologize!”

Jisung rubs his forehead with his hand in distress, he becomes more visibly fed up the more your anger spews out at him, “Y/N, I’m sorry, alright? Just let me help you, please stop fighting it.” 

But his eagerness to help is what leads you to crack even more.

“Jisung, can you just leave?! I don’t want or need your help.”

And you guess, him too, because the thing you know, he can’t take it anymore and spits out his anger right there in the middle of the coffee shop, “You know what, fine. I tried to be nice and somehow gain your kindness back but you are making this so difficult. If you wanna stay stubborn, then have it your way. Stay fucking stubborn.” 

He ends with the slam of the semi-latte-drenched napkins on your and Jaemin’s table before storming out to the back of the shop, his mind completely shutting out the murmurs from the watching customers. Your breathing stops when you watch him walk away, and in the peripheral of your eye, you see Jaemin looking at you. Why does this feel embarrassing? Why are you regretting yelling at him?

“Jisung!” 

Your world blurs out again, the only sounds heard are from the swinging doors opening in and out along with the shouts and movement from Haechan and Jeno as they chase after the stupid drummer boy. For your benefit, it gives you time to fully indulge in what the heck just happened and ignore those talking around you. 

You mentally replay him getting mad at you over and over. He said it in such a manner that results in you having a guilty lump in your throat and your brain almost tells you to run after him and apologize. You’ve never seen that side of him before, though, you haven’t seen much with your small number of interactions. 

But your pride matters more. If he wants stubborn, then you’ll show him stubborn.

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

note: RAAHAHA their hatred is finally deep. thank the lord!! i had sm writer's block w coming up with this chapter but i'm honestly really happy w how this turned out :)) we welcome their enemies era with love and open arms

🎫: @idkwhatursayinh @sunghoonsgfreal @multifandomania @nanaxwi @odxrilove @sourrpatched @hancafe @chaellaa @dojaejunging @jising-jisang-jisung @heheheeral @haechansbbg @renjunsversion @seunghancore @woshixinqgiu @jiiieun @pinknjm

[chosokamosbf]

⋆L⋆I⋆G⋆H⋆T⋆H⋆E⋆A⋆D⋆E⋆D⋆

☆ 18+ only/no minors. | jason todd x male! reader.

SUMMARY: a nsft fic where jason puts his boyfriend into a chokehold. WARNINGs: 18+, established relationship, choking, m! sub! reader, dom! jason, (reader receiving) light degradation, overstimulation. WORD COUNT 700+ NOTEs: second person & no plot. insert/reader is a woozy in this one sooo they act a bit "silly." ["Stupid/pretty boy," and no pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]

Your pants are caught around your knees; everything else is pushed aside to the barest amount so the desperation leaking in between an otherwise gentle make-out wouldn't have been left unattended. His boxers are ruined—stripped right to his thighs after a near hour or so of caged between them and the man sitting on his lap.

His head was resting in the crook of your neck the whole time, so every hitch in it was caught straight away whenever you had to adjust your sitting.

Whatever movie was playing ended long ago, and now some senseless drama is playing on mute.

You don't know how long you've been doing this.

He hasn't let you move much to even see the clock sitting by on the nightstand. Your only sense of passing time other than the building ache is how the sun is now descending over the city and, in turn, your two's little slice of paradise of a mediocre apartment. It cascades on one side of the room in a dark orange glow after hours of singing in a brighter tone through a small opening in the curtains.

It's all fun and games with someone with a trunk load of stamina until your endless pleas have gotten your eyes rolled back to the very edge, a hazy mind overwhelmed with every single sensation. It's almost painful, even.

Your stomach convulses as you come over and over on his cock while you're stuck being pulled back on it by the hip. His breaths are coming out in heated pants as he bottoms out in you again, pressed against your back like he's using you for support.

Words almost don't process through the fog. "You like this, huh? Fuckin' nasty." 

"Yeaa—yeah. Love it so much—love you. It feels so... so good."

Jason doesn't want to hold it in, so he doesn't—and so a snort carries through before he's mimicking how your voice slurs. He barely gets through his sentence before laughter bubbles up, and his chest is softly trembling against your back from the restraint.

"Awh, you looove me? Stupid boy's drunk on some dick."

An arm braces itself right next to yours, and then a hand toys and intertwines the tips of both your fingers.

The other hand wraps around your jaw to turn your face to the side, and he doesn't bother containing the smile that comes with watching the way you have to crane your head to meet his gaze. The few tears streaming down your face catch what little light is still in the room.

He presses a kiss against your own lips, and it ends right after so he can dry your face with his sleeve. That arm wraps around your neck to keep you against him—make you feel how fast the pace of his heart is through the fabric.

The thrusts of his hips into yours stutter, and he uses those few moments of peace to round his arm further off, bit by bit, so his hand can squeeze nicely around you. His teeth catch on his bottom lip, almost slipping through an old cut on it as he tries to muffle some groans.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder as most thoughts fade into the background with the fleeting air.

Jason presses down on the evident bulge in your lower stomach where his cock shows through, and he rubs it gently, knowing how overstimulated you have to be by now. Your body retracts back into his, moving away from the assaulting hand, and he just laughs despite his sore throat.

And he tries to make sure you share the feeling by tightening the grip around your throat.

Slowly, he settles you on your stomach.

He keeps your bottom half propped up by the knees, your legs pressed together so he can push in deep still. The arm holding the two of you up only seconds ago traces your back to rub rough calluses at the tense muscles building up around the top. He keeps your face from getting buried in the sheets and listens close to every sound that comes from the drooling mouth.

"C'mon." His voice trails out into a rough drawl, making sure you take every inch. "Be a good boy and cum f'me again, okay?"

[sepherinaspoppies]

whatever may come

⋆. 𐙚 ˚masterlist ✧₊⁺AO3 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ taglist

⟢summary: aemond punishes his maidservant after catching her talking to a stableboy. he, however, will not recognize the consequences to his actions later on.

⟢pairing: dark! aemond targaryen x servant reader

⟢warnings: 18+, MDNI, noncon, dubcon, oral m receiving, cum play?, p in v sex, rough sex, possessiveness, degradation. I think that's it?

⟢wc: 2,700

⟢notes: lol this was inspired by a tiktok edit?? anyways I think this is dark? I apologize if this sounds like crap, I ruined my sleep schedule for this?? haha

⟢byka līve: little whore

She silenced her whimpers to the best of her ability, her lower lip caught between her teeth so tightly that she could taste the metallic drops of her blood as the man above her painfully gripped the very roots of her hair jerking her trembling body away from his lap to the stone cold floor. 

She looked up through her eyelashes as she watched him correct her posture to his liking like a mere doll, the same ones she would watch him play with in the privacy of his sister’s chambers whenever she did her maid duties. 

After he had settled her into her knees, she immediately let out a sigh of relief as that burn waved itself away to solace. She continued to look at him, back and forth between his lone violet eye and his sparkling sapphire that only seemed to strangely glow whenever she was present. His expression was unreadable from the previous austere one where moments ago he remorselessly and brutally, to be quite clear, hit multiple blows against her bottom, making her count each and every single one without tears in her eyes. She never knew how to count, but Aemond made sure to teach her with each hit upwards to twenty. 

She knew Aemond was angry and he had every right to be. Earlier on the day as he was training with his mother’s knight, Criston Cole, out in the outer yard when he spotted his favorite maidservant blushing and laughing with a plainly featured stableboy as his dirty little fingers swept back a piece of loose hair out of her face. 

Never once did Aemond ever see his maidservant smile that brightly before much less directed towards him. And she had no reason to whatsoever. His presence did not bring her joy or an ounce of merriment, it was much the opposite of that. So why did Aemond believe that he deserved a little smile when all he ever did was defile, break and use her all whilst making her cry in the end? 

There was only one reason a low born male like him smiled that way and Aemond shunned those ill fitting thoughts out of his mind for he did not want to think of another man touching his maidservant. 

She was his and his only, no one else’s. And she’d do well to remember that. 

“Undress me, byka līve” Aemond demands, speaking the last two phrases in his ancestral language. Never knowing what they meant, if they were expressed appreciatively or aimed in an appraising matter. 

Deep down she had an inkling that they were not. 

She blinked, hesitantly bringing herself up from the floor. Just as she began to unfasten his black leather doublet, her hair was tugged yet again before her knees were bent back down against the stone. 

She winced, carefully not to make any sound. 

“No, byka līve, not there. Here—” His fingers threaded her hair more tightly, pressing her face flat against his pelvis. She could feel the swellness of his cock across her face, where the base of his manhood started nudging at the bottom of her chin and where the pulsating tip pressed a little above her eyes. 

But what astonished her the most was the small wet patch that amplified the smell of his sex. Surely, this was not what she thought it was. 

There was only one way to find out.

The one eyed prince released his tight grip on the roots of her hair. She wondered that by the end of the night, after he was done with her if there would be any hair left. Her hair was the only thing she liked about her appearance, the smooth texture with hidden silver highlights.

“Look at me while you undress me” 

With a shaky breath, she nodded as her hands moved to unlace his breeches, tugging down just below where his stones ended until the garment pooled at his feet. A part of her felt grateful it was him she was looking and not his throbbing parts. 

Aemond was determined to peak again, seeing his red faced maidservant so obedient and frightened before him. It almost made him want to reward her with either his fingers or tongue or mayhaps both. 

But she wasn’t here for a reward. She was unbefitting for such a thing. It was because of her whore like behavior akin to the sordid ones in the Silk of Street that filthy stableboy had his eyes already set on her. 

And he can not have that happening. 

Without further warning, she feels two of his fingers ruthlessly being shoved at the back of her throat. He gives her no time to settle what he was doing to her as his long digits begin to pump in and out of her at an outrageous pace that involuntarily makes her eyes produce tears. 

Above her, she hears her prince hum with a dark look in his eye that sends shivers down her spine. She shouldn’t be enjoying this, it was wrong. This act, along with the various ones from previous nights and mayhaps the forthcoming ones, were suitable for a married woman and her husband. Not a prince and his maidservant. She stood to gain nothing from this. 

“This mouth is mine” Aemond breathlessly whispered as his fingers curled in a come hither motion, her lips kissing his knuckles. At his words, she lets out a series of sobs loud enough for Aemond to tug her head back in distaste. 

“What? Do you have something to say in the matter? Do you not think you belong to me?” 

She shut her eyes, flinching at the sonority of his voice, thinking by doing that he would go away dissatisfied and search for someone to take her place. 

But her silence only seemed to anger him more. 

“Fucking answer me, byka līve!” he yells close to her ear. 

For the first time since her counting, she spoke with a shaking voice. “Y-y-yes, Your Grace” 

“Yes what? Hmm?” 

She gasps and opens her eyes feeling her prince’s fingers twist and pinch her covered hard nipple, “I’m- I’m yours, my prince” 

“You don’t sound so convinced that you are, byka līve” he licks his lips before tutting. Such a sound made her feel alarmed and more frightened. “Do I need to remind you, again?” Aemond asks, bringing his hand to his manhood. 

As familiarized as she was with his nakedness, she could not help to invite herself to look at all of him. Centimeters close to her face, stood his very erect cock, thick and heavy as she saw last, skin pulled back to reveal his needy red tip with mix remnants of arousal and spend. 

It brought her shame and disgust the way her core seemed to long and yearn for the fullness he brought upon her. 

Aemond, frustrated in her lack of words, taps the tip of his cock on her bottom lip before he shoves his way into her warm mouth. He could feel his maidservant whine uncomfortably from only taking half of him. Fucking weak whore. Aemond cursed to himself. He knew she could take more, she had done so before. 

“Fuck” 

Her chest heaves rapidly trying to keep her air supply to the best she can and opening her mouth wider to make it easier for her to suit his thickness since it had been a while since his cock rested around her lips. Her prince, as of late, preferred to be inside her walls in all the hours of the day and night. In that order. 

Once the one eyed prince was certain her mouth had accommodated his size, he took no more time yanking her head down sheathing every inch to the back of her throat, sighing in pleasure. 

The vibrations of her whimpers spurred Aemond on as his hips started to thrust in and out of her lips, slowly at first to enjoy the soft ridges that her throat had to offer and her tongue. Seven Hells, her tongue instinctively raising up whenever his tip rested there for a second, making him forget the reason why he was doing this in the first place. Her punishment. 

“Are–you…fuck– starting to fucking remember who you b-belong to, byka līve? Hmm?” Aemond asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to feel the bulge of his cock sliding in and out. 

“Y-yes” she forces out through the tightness of her throat, trails of drool escaping the corners of her mouth. Aemond darkly laughs and moans at her response as his hips hasten their speed, chasing his nearing peak. 

“Good girl” he coos, his eye looking down at her flushed face. “My good sweet girl” —thrust— “I’m going to cum on your face” (a/n: listen to this tiktok if you want to hear him say it lol xD okay byeee)

She has no time to react as she feels hot ropes of his seed spurting all across her face. From her eyes to her cheeks and lips she feels it all. 

She hears her prince groan, as he pumps his cock faster feeling his second release coming again. 

And this time she knew to tilt her away to not get any more on her eyes or her hair. She heard stories from other maids that a man’s seed would knot into hair, making it impossible to get rid of. She didn’t know if it was true or not but she did not want to take her chances. 

“Just as I was beginning to think to reward you” He hissed, pulling her to stand. She whimpers, her head hot and spinning from getting up too fast. 

The raged prince spins his maidservant around, using the dagger Cole gifted him for his fourteenth nameday to rip through her night shift right below the dimples of her arse. The temperature of his chambers, which wasn’t too cold nor warm, caused the little hairs around on her body to raise.  

She tried to cover her bareness with her hands, whatever could fit on her palms. Since the beginning of their coupling, Aemond commanded her that she was to keep her shift on, only slightly raised to her hips. Not that she had any complaints, but it made her truly wonder why he’d be bare and not her. 

“This” Aemond cups her soaked mound, “Cunt is mine. Mine only to fuck and to do whatever I please. It’s not some filthy– dolt stableboy’s” He growls next to her. 

She parts open her lips at the realization that he was the heated gaze she felt on her back when she was discussing with Linus at the outer yard. She should have known her prince would be there training every morning like he always was. But it must have slipped her mind somehow. 

Aemond scowls, “I saw you, byka līve. Saw you speaking to him and letting him touch you. Saw him leave your room” 

She doesn’t get the chance to reply; to tell him that what he saw was not what it looked like. But her tongue was caught between her teeth before he roughly drags her body to slightly bend her over by his dressing mirror, giving himself a few vigorous pumps as he watches his proud work dripping on his pretty maidservant’s face. 

“Please, my prince. It isn’t…oh!” Feeling him enter in one sharp thrust deep, she gasps at the sudden fullness. There wasn’t any part of her that was empty, her cunt felt so deliciously stuffed to the brim. 

“It isn’t what? Are you telling me that my eye deceives me?” He asks in a strain voice, trying to hold his authority over her whilst controlling his sounds of pleasure. “Did I or did I not see you fucking laughing with him or—Seven Hells—letting his dirty little fingers touch you? Must I remind you it is a grave offense to lie to your prince, byka līve?” 

White hot pleasure runs deep inside her belly as his thrusts quicken to get an answer from her yet she struggles to keep her composure. “N-no, my prince, Linus came t-t-to meee. He said I had a ladybug on my hair and—” she rolls her head back to rest on his shoulder feeling her peak coming closer and closer. “Said I was pretty b-but, my prince—” 

Wanting to hear no more of this, Aemond stopped his movements, much to his dismay, wrapping his hand around her throat so tightly she knew it would bruise like the other times he took her from the same exact position. 

“Oh, he called you pretty did he? I wonder what he’ll think now with my spend on your face” 

Fear and embarrassment wormed itself to her body. She did not want anyone to see her this way, exposed, bare, and being fucked by the prince of the Queen’s second eldest son. Soon enough when the time came when she was no longer useful to him, she thought about lying to her future husband–if she ever met one worthy of taking her far away from King’s Landing–persuading him she was still pure, not touched by a possessive prince. 

“No please, my prince” She protested as Aemond grabbed the small little bell that was used to call in a Kingsguard.

He ignored her pleas not even attempting to hide her nakedness or her pearly white soaked face as Ser Arryk walked into the chamber being instructed to bring Linus from the stables. 

“Hush, byka līve” He cooed behind her, repositioning his cock back into her entrance. Any moment longer, he felt like his cock would explode from another release being denied. “Now, I might not let him in but only if you do not hide your sounds” 

She nods to the vigorous deep thrusts Aemond sets in, feeling more of her slick dripping down her thighs, aiding to the heavy slapping sound of their sex coming as one. She arched her back against Aemond’s chest, releasing mixes of intense pants and moans, gazing at the way Aemond’s face scrunches from bliss through the mirror. 

“Give it to me” Aemond groans, feeling his maidservant’s cunt flutter and clench around him. A sign that her peak was forthcoming. He snakes his hand down to her bud and curses loudly at how wet she was. 

She is a whore. Aemond thinks as he circles the bundle of nerves. 

At this, she gives Aemond a series of loud cries that she knew would be heard throughout the Keep. And in the morrow the castle would be surrounded with heavy gossip of who the lewd sounds belonged to and who caused them. 

“Gods, fuck!” 

Aemond smiled through the mirror, fucking her through her peak until he too began to yell out in ecstasy. His seed spilling deep into her womb. 

After their breaths settled, two loud knocks followed by the voice of Ser Arryk caused her to look at her prince in panic, hoping he’d dismiss them since she did what he asked her to do. 

“Come,” Aemond loudly announced, grabbing a cup of Pentoshi wine from his dinner table, ignoring the sobbing pleas from his maidservant. 

She tried to back away, desperately needing to shield herself away but that only caused the silver prince to tut and shake his head as a warning. 

The door shut loudly behind Linus as he came into the chambers, slowly and unsure why he was being called into the Prince’s chambers at this hour when he should be sleeping. 

“Linus, is it?” Aemond questioned, even though he knew the answer. 

Linus averts his gaze from the Prince’s nakedness, and nods. “Y-yes, my prince, if it pleases you” 

“Well, Linus. I am in need of your opinion, and I want you to be honest with me. Do you think that she looks glorious—pretty even, with my cum on her face?” 

She can not bring herself to look at the red headed man she considered a friend, knowing that the loud silence lingering around confirmed that he did not find her pretty like he had called her, hours ago. 

In fact, no one would ever find her pretty now. She was ruined and now a whore, like her mother had been when she too was seduced by a prince. 

a/n: if requested ill release two parts of this (one when aemond meets her and another for what happens next lol)

taglist: @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @fullmoonworshipper @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @kittendoll05

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[haikyu-mp4]

Two jobs, part 2

word count; 1107 – set a few years after part 1, reader and Osamu are married and the three of you live together. I gave your son a name, Kazuo, to make writing easier

You were away on a business trip and left your two favourite guys to take care of each other for a few days. Luckily, you didn’t have to do this often, but you were relieved they got along so well that you could. Even though Kazuo grew attached to Osamu in a way before you two even started dating, it had been an adjustment for all of you after you got married and moved in together, especially because your son was at his most difficult age.

Currently, Kazuo sat on a bar chair by the island counter while Osamu made dinner. The two would often hang out in the kitchen together, because Kazuo liked spending time with Osamu when he had an excuse for it. He also found it hilarious when he asked his stepdad for help with his homework and Samu got frustrated because he didn’t understand it either. It was a peaceful connection they had, and you usually did your best to let them have their time in the kitchen to themselves even when you were home.

“Hey, look at this.” Osamu said to catch his attention. When Kazuo looked up, he did some weird juggling trick with the pepper shaker before adding the necessary seasoning to the soup he was making. Then he did the same with the salt to show it wasn’t a fluke. “Am I cool, or what?” It was meant as a joke, but there was a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kazuo made a face. “Uhh… yeah.” he said, which was an obvious lie, making Osamu deflate. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt particularly sensitive about it all of a sudden. Perhaps it had something to do with the difference of how Kazuo looked when he got to play volleyball with his twin compared to how he politely declined lately when Osamu asked him if they should do some passes in the garden.

“Do you not think I’m cool?” he asked after a long silence, leaning one hand on his hip while the other stirred the soup to make sure it didn’t stick to the bottom.

“Not like Tsumu.” Kazuo answered honestly without thinking about it, eyes on his homework so he didn’t notice his stepdad’s face scrunching up. If he thought he felt sensitive before, that one hit the spot for sure. “But it’s okay, being a chef is good too.” The boy honestly didn’t think adults cared so much about being cool.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take pity on me now.” he said followed by a deep sigh. “Maybe I should cook you instead, you gremlin.” Kazuo just laughed, unknowing of Osamu’s bruised ego. When he turned back to his homework, Osamu pulled his phone out and opened messages, sending a simple ‘You’re ugly and stupid’ to Atsumu without context. That made him feel a little better, at least. You bet he’ll call you that night before bed for some reassurance. And to remind you that he loves you, of course.

Sometimes, Kazuo was allowed to go to parties in exchange for sharing his location at all times while he was away with whichever parental figure was home at the time. Usually, the parties were alright. Typical underage parties where someone had stolen a few beers from a parent and they all tasted it before looking disgusted and swearing to never drink it again. He would be picked up at the agreed time with a few complaints of how lame you were for setting those rules, and then he would tell you he loved you under his breath before going to bed.

However, they were growing older and that came with engaging in new topics of interest. That’s how Kazuo ended up in a game of seven minutes in heaven that he desperately wanted out of. It’s not like he could just tell them he might prefer guys over girls, he wasn’t even sure yet himself! It was all too much, so he snuck away and pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. You’re still on your business trip, and he was starting to miss you even though he would never tell you that. After all, you were the only one he relied on for the first 10 years of his life.

He pulled up his contacts on the old phone you had gifted him, scrolling past your contact until he got to a Miya. Even though he knew Atsumu liked spending time with him, he didn’t seem to have that much spare time anymore. Actually, he probably wouldn’t call Atsumu for an emergency anyways, he realised. Tsumu was more of a cool uncle, like he told Osamu in the kitchen the day before. Now that he was in trouble, he already knew who he had to call.

“Samu…” Kazuo said, voice cracking a little so he pretended to clear his throat.

“What’s up, buddy?” Osamu sounded tired, like he had taken a nap in that recliner he loved to occupy when you weren’t home. If you knew he snoozed off while your boy was at a party, you would not be happy, but at least he picked up the phone.

“Can you come pick me up?” he asked not too loudly, frowning at the floor. “I’m okay, I just want to go home.” He tried to sound tough and chill, but it didn’t fool Osamu.

“Sure, I’ll head out now. Go outside in about 15 minutes but not before. Actually, stay inside until I’m there.” Kazuo chuckled a bit at Osamu’s short ramble where he corrected himself, then he hummed in confirmation and hung up. So he told his friends he was feeling under the weather and went outside when Osamu came to pick him up.

Kazuo didn’t say much more than “Thanks for picking me up,” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” after getting in the car, and Osamu knew he would rather tell you about it than him, so he didn’t pry.

Instead, he clicked his tongue with a cheeky smile. “You know, the new Star Wars movie just came out for streaming. I won’t tell your mom we stayed up late if you don’t.”

And as he looked to the side where Kazuo fiddled with his hands in the passenger seat wearing a relieved smile, safe because he dared text him for help, Osamu decided that he didn’t need to be cool. He just had to be there.

Even so, his chest bloomed with pride when Kazuo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for the night and told him, “Thanks for the movie, Samu. You are pretty cool.”

masterlist

taglist: @miyamizuna, @makkir0ll, @shiratorizawa-can-step-on-me, @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots, @eeerreehhh, @f4iryk3i, @cosmiicdust, @malikazz243

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

part iii (part i + part ii)

(due to sims doing everything but what i wanted them to, this extended into night and the screencaps were terrible - i apologise)

“Avery, I feel like our potential isn’t necessarily reflected by your score, and much of that was my doing. You just seemed to catch me when I was in the middle of a Moment and was not exactly feeling receptive towards anyone. And among those who did… less well, you were one of the few who actually initiated flirting with me and who seemed to really try. So let’s take this as an opportunity to refresh and maybe have a second shot at things. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

“Jayla, you’re clearly having a ball and I enjoyed being in a household with you. But so far you haven’t seemed all that drawn to me, and I feel that at least in terms of romance, I’m the one putting in all the work. You are one of eighteen, and it seems like you’re not sure why you’re here. Let me know whether you want this - or not - but let me know. See you for Round Two.”

the final four...

“You know how it goes. I have only one of my strawberries left, and I am not splitting it four - just who the plum comes up with these things…”

“Forest - considering your strong start, this is a long way to fall. We have potential and you’ve shown hints of sweetness, but you keep on pushing me away - and your autonomous mean interactions? Not okay. It wasn’t cute when boys did that in grade school, and it’s far from cute now. If your aim is to sabotage yourself, then you’re succeeding spectacularly.” (Forest: nervously sweating...)

“Lee - much like Forest, yet worse. While I get the sense that Forest has the potential - and maybe even the want - to be something better than his past behaviour, you on the other hand seem perfectly happy with just how you present yourself. Well, I’m not. I like the version of you who is friends with Tiago and who has some moments of vulnerability, not whatever this is.” (Lee: unbothered, totally convinced this is all a ruse...)

(Araminta: hoping to the old Watchers and the new that Forest is going home...)

“Piper - if only we had even a little romance, my dear. But at least with me - or perhaps even with life in general - that just doesn’t seem to be what you’re looking for, and that’s okay. You stepped out of your comfort zone to try something that doesn’t come naturally to you, and for that you’ll have my eternal admiration. But I’m afraid that this chapter of your story ends here.”

“Aubrey - you’re here for a good time, but sadly not a long time. One of the most gorgeous sims I’ve ever laid eyes upon, and I really enjoyed your sense of fun, your mischief and your creativity. As there’s no spark between us, however, let’s just say it’s been real and move on. You were a delight to get to know - I hope we can catch up again after the show.”

“Forest, something is telling me not to let you go just yet. And if I’m wrong, then more fool me. This is a second chance for… whatever you need it to be, I guess. Those don’t come around often, or at all. Make the most of it. And if there’s any more mean behaviour - I may no longer be a werewolf but I’m not completely without bite. Man up and grow up, or get out.”

“Lee, here’s your fifteen minutes. Best of luck in building on them. And as the autonomy settings are driving the Watcher crazy - Araminta, you absolutely don’t need to talk to your horse Every Five Seconds - we’ll say our proper farewells tomorrow.  Sorry for the lack of decent screencaps, everyone, but you only have your pixel selves to blame.”

“Hey beautiful, so I totally know this is all a stunt. You have to leave the audience on a cliffhanger, right? Don’t worry, I’ll play along. I am a supremely talented actor after all - I can even cry on command!” “Mhmm…” (reflects on how that’s only a Level 2 interaction in the ACTING skill)

how scores were calculated

Ooof, I really wanted to take more of the bottom three in particular, but I was also this close to ejecting my EA folder into the sun. They will however each get a proper farewell from Lilac (and a thank you from me to their watchers) and their very own shiny post in broad daylight when hopefully the in-game lighting is better cooperating.

Also now we know just what Forest was up to that very last day. That little so-and-so realised that he was on thin ice and thus was skillbuilding like there was no tomorrow - which for him was almost the case! I will be including Aubrey's, Piper's and Lee's score details in their farewell posts and you will see just how close it all was.

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @tipsy-clouds @riverofjazzsims

@plasmafruittree @sleepyselkiesims @fl0pera

[scandinavianfairytale]

Filthy

Pairing: Senator Steve Rogers x Assistant Reader

Warnings: This is straight up filth 😅 18+, Rated R 🙈 Smut, including but not limited to: oral, PinV, cheating, power dynamic is askew, age gap...

It was wrong. So wrong. So very wrong. For a number of reasons.

1. He was married.

2. He was significantly older than you. And we're talking about that he could be you father older than you.

3. He was your boss.

You could probably think of other reasons why, but these were the major ones. Yet, it didn't stop you from lusting after the senator. And you tried to distract yourself, mainly with work, but whenever you were alone with him, your knees shook, your core throbbed, and your head felt dizzy.

But you couldn't seduce a married man.

Or maybe you could.

Just not as directly as you would any other men.

In the beginning you were subtle. A button opened there, a skirt too short there. A little moan or gasp sprinkled in between the meetings. A hand lingering too long.

Nothing. There was no reaction from Steve.

So then you resorted to blatant tactics. Before going into his office you changed into the same clothes, just two sizes two small. On a number of occasions you even forgot the bra.

Still nothing. He was driving you insane. After every meeting where you basically offered yourself on a silver plate,.you had to go to the restroom and take the edge off. Your hands felt like cheap alternative to what you were actually after. Even at home, your toys paled in comparison to the fantasies that were playing in your head.

In one last ditch effort, you put on the tightest skirt you had in your wardrobe, a skirt that was more like a second skin than a piece of clothing. Ditching the thong, you entered Senator Rogers office, knees shaking in anticipation of what might happen.

He fucked you that night. Three times. Your head was spinning by the end of the fuck session. You were bent over the table, taken on the floor, on all fours, the couch used for support after your arms gave out and then to properly finish the evening, you got down on your knees and sucked him off.

After that, you were hooked. You were insatiable. How could you not be? The way he looked, sounded, and carried himself was enough to drive a woman insane. Put that together with the best fuck you experienced in your life and you got yourself a proper cock whore.

Steve was preparing his notes for tomorrows speech when a soft knock on the door of his office interrupted his train of thought. Your head poked through the crack and he smiled, motioning you in.

"Why are you still here so late?" Steve asked as he patted the chair next to him, insinuating that you can or should sit.

"Well, there are so many things left to do by tomorrow." You replied as you sat down. Steve picked up his scotch and leaned back in the leather sofa he was sitting in.

"There's always a lot of work to be done. And I know all the necessary things have already been done, so why don't you try again, sweetheart." He smirked.

"I wanted to catch you alone." You bit your bottom lip.

"Oh?" Steve cocked an eyebrow.

"I want to help you. I can see you're stressed and I thought, maybe I could help."

"How do you think you could help me?" You stood up, and you took his hand, guiding it under your skirt. Steve's eyes widened as his hand came into contact with your bare and very wet pussy. Your breathing deepend as his guided hand cupped you, and your tummy tensed in anticipation.

"I think you might be right." Steve smirked as he scanned your face, eyes hodded, lips parted and a little flush in the cheeks.

Beautiful.

"Stand wider. I want to feel you." He commanded, and you obeyed, no questions asked. As soon as your skirt was hiked up, Steve's fingers invaded your slippery hole, making you moan. He started fingering you, and those wet, squelching noises that he loved started coming from you. Plus combining with your pants and moans...music to his ears.

He knew he was bad. Sick, some would even call him. After all, he was MUCH older than you and in a position of power.

But it's not like you were that innocent either. Not when you flaunted your assests just to get a rise out of your boss. You definitely were not innocent when you grabbed his tie, pulling him into a supply closet at the Gala and giving him the best head he's ever had, while his wife was looking for him. And especially not when after just swallowing his cum, you talked to his wife, laighing with her as if you were good friends.

And it's not like he didn’t feel the guilt. His wife was the love of his life. They made a life together. A good life. He still loved her. Steve knew he would always love Peggy. He knows he will never love anyone else, but love and lust are not the same. Missionary sex once a month in the shared bed is not the same as the risky, almost violent, ball busting sex in all positions in all places at all times pf the day or night.

"Senator." You moaned, as you stopped holding back your need and your hips started gyrating against his hand. That. That right there, that was what sealed the deal for him. That was when he realized that while it was a regrettable mistake, he was going to make it again and again. And again.

"Are you gonna cum?" Steve's eyes darkened as he watched your pussy grinding against his hand and knuckles and how your juices oozed out, dripping down his forearms.

"Uh-huh" Your needy voice surprised you. You have never been this needy before.

"Come here." He demanded, his other hand grabbing your hips, steadying them and he blew on your hot pussy, making you throw your head back, screaming in pleasure. Steve smirked before delving next to his fingers, and he started lapping at your juices, savoring the taste like a starved man.

"More. Pleaseee, senator." You begged.

"Call me Steve." He smirked and he stopped everything he was doing, making you keen.

"Steve! Please, don't stop." You uncleanched your eyes, but he could see how much you wanted to roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Better. Now cum, sweetheart, let me taste you, properly."

It took only a few thrusts before you squirted all over his face. He held you in place, saving you from crumpling down on the floor as your knees shook. Steve kissed your pussy, smiling up at you as your breathing started getting back normal.

"Let me take care of you." You whispered as you straddled his hips, opening his trousers and pulling his painfully hard cock out before slowly sinking on him, your overly sensitive pussy, pulsating as it made room for his gritty cock.

"You feel amazing." Steve moaned as he felt your wet walls. You kissed him, pressing your body as close as you could, letting both of you feel the stretch. His hands traveled down to your ass, gripping it tight before he started thrusting up.

"Wait." You stopped him. "You just sit here, I'll do everything."

How could he refuse? How could he say no to you, really?

Sure enough, you got to work, grinding against his pelvis, thrusting your hips up and down, sending shivers and pulses down to your tiptoes. But Steve could not just sit still while you did all the work. He unbuttoned your blouse and pulled down your bra so your breasts spilled out. He realized all your cloths fit you now, as opposed to a few weeks ago.

"Before we started this, did you change your clothes every time before coming to see me?" He asked as he grabbed your jaw, making you look at him.

"Yes." You moaned. "I wanted to give you a preview."

"You certainly don't leave anything to the imagination, you dirty whore." He smirked and slapped your tit. He thought back to that day when this began. You nervously entered his office, bringing him the files he asked for. Just before reaching him, you tripped, and all the papers fell on the floor. He was going to help you, but then he noticed how tight the skirt you were wearing was and how it stuck to your skin, providing a visible outline of your pussy. At that point, he had been trying so hard to resist the temptation, but having this clear of a view of your pussy, he snapped. He bent you over the desk that night.

"Fuck yes." You screamed as his hand went to your clit and pinched it.

"Come on, you said you wanted to take care of me. Do it." Steve taunted. "Try harder."

You started circling your clit, while grinding at his pelvis. He could feel you clenching around him, and he knew you were close. He pinched one of your nipples, rolling it in between his fingers, while his mouth started sucking on the other.

"God, yes. Steve-I-" Your voice broke as you squirted again. You bucked your hips a couple of more times, before you climbed off of him and kneeled in front of his opened legs. His cock was just perfect, a little red, soaking from his precum and your juices and so thick. Your mouth practically watered at the sight of Senator's Rogers dick.

"Fuck." Steve let out as you took him down your throat. You were always eager to give a blowjob. You knew guys usually don't get good head and women in general don't like giving head. But you fucking loved it. There was so much power in this.

You took him whole, until your nose touched his hair base. Staying there, breathing through your nose, you stared at him.

"Fuck." He groaned as he looked at you.

Finally, you started bobbing your head up and down his shaft, the noises both of you were making were egging you on. One of your hands massaged his balls, while the other stroked his perineum, making the man above you shudder and thrust his hips further into your mouth. You smirked with your mouth full of cock. It really was a power move.

"C'mon, stop playing and make me come." Steve groaned in frustration, slapping you face and shoved your head down to the base of his cock, making you choke. You tapped his thigh and he let you go.

"Use my throat." You leaned back on your heels, opening your mouth, inviting him in. Steve stood up and pushed his cock down your throat again. His hands framed your head, and he started thrusting into you.

"God yes." Steve yelled in ecstasy. Your hands went to your pussy. One started playing with your clit while with the other you shoved three fingers in it.

"That's it, play with yourself." He shoved his cock faster and harder into your mouth. Like he was fucking your pussy and it made you so wet. It was the perfect sinful melody that filled the office. As you listened to him pant and groan, you knew he was close. His thrusts became erratic until finally he slammed your head down his cock and kept you there as he emptied his sack. You came at the same time, he shoved you down last time, squirting again.

As he let you go, you opened your mouth, showing him you swallowed every last drop.

Steve zipped up his pants while you sat in your own release, still panting. He brought you tissues to clean yourself up before helping you stand up and giving you a glass of water.

"Do you feel better?" You asked. Steve let out a chuckle.

"I feel much better. I think tomorrow's speech is going to go smoothly." He observed you. "Let me take you home. You shouldn't be driving this exhausted."

You nodded before taking his hand and letting him take you to his car. Steve let the driver know where to go, and he closed the door, waving you off, before returning back to his office and cleaning the mess you created.

------------------------------------

Thank you for reading 🙈

The GIF doesn't belong to me 💙

Yeah...so I have no words other than this is filthy 🙈 I'm not sorry though 🙈

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XXIX. — EVIL TWIN

cw: Yandere Undertones, Mentions of Vomit, Teasing, Unhealthy Relationships, Quirkless AU meets Quirked AU, Implied Relationships with Touya and Overhaul, Blood, Violence, Mentions of Cauterizing, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: Haha, self indulgent once again! I was joking with my friends and that's how this came along. It's so wild, but I hope you enjoy. I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 2.3k words.

He looks terrified whenever he falls before you. 

Kai’s looking up at you, his wide eyes dull but large in horror, face hollow, and his bottom lip is trembling. You repeat his expression, eyes wide but surprised. He’s different, strange. He’s wearing a pine green jacket lined by luscious cobalt tinged purple fur, one so heavy that it sags off of his body, ruffled at the fringes. One of his brows twitches, he has a small scar on his forehead, that’s odd, and you’re still staring him down. Everything else about him looks the same—formal clothes, that lavender gray tie still as bland as ever. It’s like he’s gasping for air, words death in his throat, and you glance further down. 

Where are his arms? 

You figure that would be rude to ask, so you open your mouth to question, 

“What are you doing here?” 

You already know how he ended up here—strange warbling, a rip in the fabric of time, warping colors, static, wailing, tires screeching, burning rubber, rot, ichor, and you’re seeing a world that’s crashing through a portal. There were voices, shouting, someone was calling out a name—“Dabi!”—electric blue turned dodger flames, high and smoky. You can still feel the heat on your face, and then, two bodies were flung through haphazardly. They bounced like basketballs, skidding across the floor of your bedroom before this Kai and that other man—Dabi?—rolled into one another. Dabi crashed into the side of your bed, bashing his head, but he didn’t even wince, and then Kai ended up before your feet. You’re staring at a man in a bizarre mask and a man with a posthumous hand splayed across his face, they yell again, and then the portal winks shut as if it were never even there. You blink. 

Kai begins sputtering. 

“I-I, I’m, you’re, b-but—” 

There are hives breaking out all over his face, red and screaming, and his eyes grow even more gaunt. You don’t interrupt him as he struggles to speak, but someone else does. 

“Heh. How precious.” 

You turn your head to the other voice, and it’s the Dabi guy. He’s limping as he stands, trench coat wavering, and you can’t help but stare in awe. There are these deep taupe burns on his body—arms, face, chest, neck. Staples? Or are they piercings? The metal glitters underneath the dim lights strung around your room. He stumbles, but catches himself against your bed and then chuckles. 

“You’re his girl, aren’t you? Can’t believe I’d ever get the chance to meet you in the real.” 

Dabi’s words don’t make sense, but then, 

“His girl? You’ve got the wrong Chisaki.” 

Dabi’s eyes are insanely large whenever he slowly pivots towards your bed, and you turn your head as well, and Touya is spread out across your mattress. There’s a glint of humor haunting his face, despite the confusion in his eyes. You glance at Dabi, back to Touya, and then to Dabi. Those teal eyes look so familiar. They look so similar, don’t they? Dabi’s hair is shadows, Touya’s are doves, but the two flow together. A line creases down your face, but you don’t say anything. You don’t get to anyway because, 

“Another me?” 

Your Kai sits up, having been laying properly on the furthest side of the bed away from Touya, and then he crawls the rest of the way towards you so that he can look down at the other version of himself. That Kai looks mortified, and there are emotions playing throughout his face, his body, his eyes that you can’t comprehend. Blood splatters to the floor—oh, it’s coming from his sleeves. Did he just lose his arms? Is that why he’s bleeding? 

Dabi chuckles before it shifts into a guffaw. 

“Oh. Ohhh, this is too good, huh, Overhaul? Your girl’s got a better you.” 

Overhaul? Dabi starts trekking forward in lumbering strides, like that spin cycle he took had more of an impact than he expressed, and he starts to crumble to the edge of the bed to sit right next to you. That Kai—should you call him Overhaul?—watches Dabi the whole time, those hives getting brighter, and tears are starting to well in the corner of his eyes. Your brows knit, you tilt your head, and you start to wonder what the fuck is happening. 

“Overhaul? Dabi? Are those your names?” 

Dabi shrugs, but Overhaul can only gape like a fish. 

“You can call me whatever you like. But this  guy’s got a complex according to the boss. But who knows? Maybe you can call him by his real name.” 

You draw back a little because Dabi’s started leaning closer, and his breath smells burnt and it doesn’t taste good when you swallow. He really does look an awful lot like Touya. Averting your gaze helps, and you murmur, 

“I’ll just call him Overhaul.” 

Overhaul’s breath hitches, and he starts genuinely crying. You blink, shocked, and you quickly turn to him and stretch your hands out. His whole body is an earthquake, he’s crunching in on himself, the blood pools farther, and you watch those hives mushroom. The palms of your hands grab him by the sides of his face, cupping it between, and you immediately start cooing.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

He’s not your Kai. The real Kai is pressing himself closer to you, thigh to thigh, and he starts to stare down Overhaul with an apathetic regard. You wonder what he’s thinking, but you don’t ask, and instead you focus on Overhaul. He may not be your Kai, yes, but he looks almost exactly like him. And he’s crying, and you can’t help the way your heart twists or your lips purse. Overhaul’s so pathetic, and you don’t know why, but you feel like you’re looking at a little boy who’s been told his whole world is ending. You wonder if it is, the blood grows, and you start to sink off the bed to squat before him. 

“I—We, you, I. I failed. E-Everyone. The Boss—P-Pops, a-ahhh, ahhh—” 

His words tumble into distraught yells that never really get that loud, but it’s enough for you to hit your knees and rub your thumbs over his temples. Overhaul isn’t even seeing you anymore, or maybe he is, and that’s why he starts gasping and sobbing harder. He’s choking on his own spit. Touya flops on the bed, belly down, you can hear the sound, and he whistles quietly. 

“Man. What’s up with him, other me?” 

Dabi is Touya, that’s what you figured, and Touya confirms it. They don’t say anything about it, but Dabi sounds disgruntled when he hums. 

“Apparently, he just lost everything he wasted his whole life on or something. They’re ‘bout to send him to the, uhhh, big bad prison. I think. Tartarus.” 

“Tartarus?” 

Touya sounds bored, Dabi does too, and he scoffs. 

“Right. Lemme guess. You don’t know what Quirks are either?” 

Kai speaks up. 

“You two come shooting through a portal, and you think we live in the same kind of  world?” 

Dabi chuffs. 

“Fair point, uh, Chisaki?” 

Overhaul doubles forward. You have to fall into his blood to keep a hold on him, and he lands perfectly within your embrace. His head is on your lap, and he’s awkwardly twisted onto his side. His sobbing gets harder, and notes of words scent out of his mouth, but they don’t have a fragrance and you just start to pet his hair comfortingly. He gags, you glance at Dabi. 

“Prison?” 

This makes Touya perk up a little before he slaps Kai on the knee, and the latter more than likely makes a face that sparks a stifled laugh out of Touya. 

“I always knew it would be you first.” 

“How relevant, Todoroki.”  

Dabi seems appalled for a moment, but he gets over himself and nods at you. 

“Prison, yeah. He’s a villaiiiiiin. And a, uh, uhh, yakuza. If that even really means anything.” 

Touya howls. 

“Yakuza! Chisaki, you’re a true Dame Da Ne Guy!” 

“Oh, ha ha, you’re so funny, Todoroki. How about I show you yakuza—” 

“Kai. Touya.” 

Their names shut them up, and they glance at your frustrated visage. They’re not taking this seriously, and honestly, you don’t want to either. But there’s a man crying before you, gaping with wounds, and another man who’s been burned alive being elusive with his answers. You’re getting annoyed, and more than bothered, and you groan whenever you address Dabi. 

“I don’t know what a Quirk is, but if you can use it to heal Overhaul, I’d really appreciate that.” 

Dabi’s face looks dangerous whenever he grins at you, a predator eyeing up prey, and he starts laughing in an odd rhythm. He starts to slink towards you by shuffling against the bed before he rolls to his knees, hands flattening against the floor, face to face, noses brushing against one another. You don’t flinch away, that sounds like a bad idea. Dabi’s grin goes rictus, deadly, and you feel a hotness begin to emanate from his body. It only takes a minute, a matchstick drummer hitting asphalt, and you watch as flames start to chant and flounce along his body. Both of your eyes stare at the blue electricity, at the crackling, at the way they whip and waltz, and Dabi tilts his head until his lips brush yours. The pruned flesh makes your eyes saucers, but he doesn’t kiss you. His flames congeal. 

“I’ll help him out. Why don’t you comfort him while I fix him?” 

His words are ominous, but the fire admires you, and so you start to wrap your arms around Overhaul to hoist him off of the floor. Maroon is everywhere. Snot is confetti down his face, curtaining his lips. He’s still muttering. 

“N-No Quirks. No Sh-Shie Hassai… kai. N-No, none, B-Boss. Heroes. Heroes… League. A-Angel? You…” 

Maybe those make sense back in his world, but you just keep petting the side of his head. This position is uncomfortable, and it’s not an easy one to maintain with the way Overhaul is bouncing on top of your lap. His shoulders are feral, and Dabi gets closer. 

“Yeah, your angel’s here. Might wanna memorize her face, boss. Who knows how long we’ll be here for? You ain’t ever seeing her again when we get back.” 

Overhaul’s sobbing does get louder now, and he’s screaming. Those deep chords pull at the violins in your chest, and you feel tight. Your muscles tense, your joints ache, and the thunder of pain within your sinuses makes you wince and exhale sharply. Overhaul’s too much like Kai. It doesn’t matter the differences. You can’t stand seeing Kai cry, can’t stand to see Overhaul cry. You don’t know anything about him. You don’t particularly care. Dabi’s words stab at you too, and you can hear Kai start to move behind you. His hands fall on your shoulders like he’s trying to ground himself, and you wonder what he’s thinking. Touya’s sobered up, he’s silent, but his presence is still there. You know he’s just observing. Everyone’s body in this room is so real, so full, and it’s like vibrations echoing underneath the shells of your flesh. 

Overhaul starts to retch. 

“Y-You said you were mine, angel. You—said you’d stay w-with me, and—you were supposed to help—the plan, Eri.” 

Dabi’s fire consumes. Overhaul’s agony is ferocious, and you watch Dabi’s hands slice for Overhaul’s arms. They slide underneath the empty sleeves, and you’re positive he’s burning whatever stumps are left. The wounds are being cauterized, you think, and Overhaul’s yells cough into vomit. He gets sick in your lap, you turn your nose up with a hint of discomfort, Touya emits a disgusted noise, and Kai’s grip tightens. Sizzling flesh, something tasty, flaky, it fills the air, it’s styrofoam, it’s peculiar, it’s obnoxious. Your head is reeling, and you notice Dabi’s pressing against your face again. Nose to nose, lips to lips, and his eyes start to lid as he hisses out a chuckle. 

“How’d another me get so lucky? I’m honestly jealous.” 

He doesn’t give you the chance to respond before his mouth is truly on yours, and he’s pecking you. Dabi’s kiss is gentle, unexpected for his attitude, for the way he’s torturing a man alive, cooking him, and he moves his jaw very cautiously. It’s like he’s never kissed anyone before. Maybe. You wonder if Touya is Dabi’s motivation. It feels wrong, you feel sin and guilt crawling all over you like diseased cockroaches, gossamer legs, tickling, but he’s Touya. Underneath those scars, those staples, those flames, it’s Touya. An inner animal of you growls, and it makes you eat his kiss up. Kai joins you, and Touya isn’t far behind. Both of them are on the floor now, hands all over you, touching your back, sides, hips, thighs, ears, and everything they can brush their fingertips over. 

And Overhaul is watching, leering, and he’s calling out to you in dying throes. 

“A-Angel—! Forever, you said f-forever! I’m—We’re m-married—us, a… sick, sick, s-sick villain. H-How—?” 

You are ignoring him over the fireworks, choosing Dabi’s fulfillment. Overhaul’s words are insanity, they’re downright obsessions; he must have never really been a nice man in his world. He’s nothing like your Kai. Just like Dabi’s nothing like your Touya. But that doesn’t mean you can’t refuse his affection, can’t stop caressing the shell of Overhaul’s ear. Down to jaw round, over the column of his neck, and Dabi’s tongue is tender whenever he does a tentative lick at your bottom lip. Dabi’s voice is so so so so ginger now. 

“I wonder if the other you would choose me over her husband.” 

The implications are too real, too weighty, so you just moan into Dabi’s kiss, the fingers on Overhaul’s head firm, and there is nothing but snapping firewood and convulsing mutterings. 

“Give her back. G-Give her back. Mine. She’s mine. She—She’ll help me. Give her—” 

Your hand slips down to cover Overhaul’s mouth.