#fantasizing about how it’d sound like

[chocmarss]

I am grasping at air trying to come out a language for Shili because I’m not a linguist, but from what I see of this fandom’s fics, people would tend to explain the Shili language with trills or soft and high whimsical notes due to Togruta’s predatory-like characteristics, but, hear me out, I think it would be delightful if Shilian sounded like Khuzdul. Strong and precise, and any insults given go straight to your forefathers until they’re rolling in their graves.

Also, I’m not immune to Ahsoka’s parents calling her ���Little Pebble’.

[taeyongdoyoung]

good for you

summary: your boyfriend is literally perfect and treats you like a princess but you want him to completely lose control 😇 pairing: mingyu x reader genre: smut, tooth-rotting fluff warnings: established relationship, home intruder roleplay, consensual somnophilia, safeword exists but isn't used, rough sex, no lube, no protection, neck biting, size kink (no one is surprised), titty slapping, sir kink, spanking, praise+degradation, slight dumbification, subspace, pet names, shy dom gyu, crying, mentions of pee (non-sexual context), aftercare!!! word count: 1.7k

You and Mingyu have not been together for long but from what you know so far he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever dated. He treats you like a princess, brings you flowers or chocolates with or without occasion, drives you around everywhere, gets stuff from the top shelf for you and is basically the kindest soul to ever step on this Earth. You are, of course, beyond grateful for that, and do your best to show him how much you appreciate him every chance you get.

However, a little demon inside your brain kind of wants him to not treat you as if you are made of glass all the time. While the sex is great and Mingyu makes sure that you reach an orgasm, you can’t help but fantasize about him going rough on you. Even when his friends tease (bully) him, he almost never uses his height and strength to his advantage, instead accepting everything with a good-natured smile.

But you would be lying if you said that the idea of him just snapping doesn’t excite you. Nevertheless, you are not sure how to bring this up to him. You don’t want to sound ungrateful or for him to feel insecure about his abilities because he’s perfect the way he is. It’s your filthy brain that needs fixing. Still, you decide that honesty is the key to a healthy relationship and you gather all your courage to approach him about this.

“Hey, Mingyu, can we talk about something?” you ask one evening after you two have finished having dinner.

His eyes are immediately filled with worry. Judging by the tone of your voice, this is something serious. So far, your relationship has been lighthearted and devoid of any problems. Mingyu thinks that it’s going great but apparently he’s been fooling himself.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

“What?! Of course not! Do you want to break up with me?” you panic.

“No, no, please,” Mingyu shakes his head fervently.

“Good, good,” you exhale in relief.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Um, it’s kinda embarrassing but I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”

“Secrets?” Mingyu blinks in curiosity.

“Yeah…You know how you’re always super gentle with me, both outside and inside the bedroom?”

“Uh, sure? What about it?”

“Can you consider…not doing that all the time?”

“In what sense?” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“In the sense that…can you fuck me harder without holding yourself back? You’re not gonna break me, I promise.”

“Oh…” he finally realizes what you’re getting at. Because he doesn’t say anything rightaway, you hurry to explain.

“Not that I don’t like how sweet and patient you are with me! It’s more than amazing, I just thought that…maybe it’d be fun to try something new. If it’s not your thing, forget I mentioned it, I’m so-“

“It’s not that it doesn’t sound appealing. But I’m afraid that if I’m not holding myself back, I’ll end up hurting you,” Mingyu confesses, surprising you.

You reach your hand out across the table to hold his comfortingly.

“You won’t. I know how caring you are, Mingyu. Which is why I would trust you with something like this. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “Did you have a particular scenario in mind or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Surprise me.”

Mingyu smirks sinisterly. Oh God. What kind of demon have you unleashed?

🎀🎀🎀

A few days later, you receive a text from Mingyu while you’re walking home.

Mingyu: Busy tonight?

You: All yours

Mingyu: Unlock your door at exactly 10pm and wait for me in your bed. If I’m not there by 10:30, lock it again, alright?

You: Yes, sir 🛐

Mingyu: That’s my good girl.

Fucking hell. Your heart flutters upon reading these words. He’s called you that before but in this context, it thrills you even more than usual.

Mingyu: Safeword is butterfly. Use it if something is too much, if you’re in pain or for any other reason that brings you discomfort, okay?

You: I’m gonna need a safeword?!?!

Mingyu: I hope it doesn’t come to that but just in case. See you in a couple of hours, baby.

You’re too excited for tonight. You take a long shower. You wear your prettiest lingerie and make your room as cozy as possible. Not that it matters. You spray perfume over your neck and wrists. You put on some lipbalm and mascara. You want to look good for him. But the truth is, you had an exhausting week and already feel sleepy. You unlock the door at 10pm, climb into your bed and…

Somehow you fall asleep. You feel disoriented as your consciousness is slowly returning to you. You feel too hot, too weak and too full. Fuck. What’s going on? You don’t dare to open your eyes for fear of ruining the sweeter than sleep reality.

“Dumb baby couldn’t wait for me and fell asleep all by herself?” Mingyu’s deep voice coos in your ear.

In your half-awake state you feel your boyfriend’s cock thrusting deep inside of you, taking you rougher than ever before. Well, you asked for it.

“So cute and helpless, leaving the door unlocked for anyone to enter and use you like a whore,” Mingyu murmurs.

He rubs your clit vigorously while still fucking into you, making you wetter than ever before.

“Nnghh,” you whimper drowsily.

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep,” Mingyu whispers. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything.”

He squeezes your boobs, leaning down to bite your neck like a hungry wolf. And here, you thought your boyfriend was just a cute puppy.

“S-so big,” you cry out pitifully.

“You can take it, slut,” Mingyu says confidently.

You don’t offer a verbal response but your body speaks for itself. Mingyu is almost splitting you in two but your pussy is swallowing him up greedily.

“H-harder, p-please,” your mouth seems to have a mind of its own because it speaks against any common sense.

Mingyu slaps your tits, a little hesitant at first.

It stings but it’s such a sweet hurt you’re already addicted to it.

“Like this?” he asks, making sure it’s okay.

“M-more,” you beg, forgetting all inhibitions. “Use me.”

He does it a couple of more times, while still fucking you roughly. His dick is so enormous that you’re certain you’ll be sore tomorrow but it will be more than worth it. You lose count of how many times you’ve come around his cock. Sliding out and flipping you on your belly, he takes you from behind, too, spanking your ass and gripping your hair.

“Such a good girl, just for me, right? No one else gets to see you like this, yeah?” Mingyu’s words come out rushed, almost in trance.

“All yours, sir,” you promise.

Mingyu seems satisfied with your answer because he spills his seed inside of you seconds after. You follow his lead and eventually, your knees give out, your mind goes blank and you collapse on the bed.

“Baby?” Mingyu checks up on you worriedly.

You are not capable of responding, brain barely functioning anymore. He moves you gently to see your face. Your eyes are open but unblinking, which scares the shit out of him.

“Come back to me, my sweetheart, please,” Mingyu cries out, hugging you tightly.

A couple of moments later, you still don’t remember your own name but something more important to you leaves your lips:

“Mingyu?” you whisper cautiously.

“Oh, angel,” Mingyu sighs. “I’m right here.”

Then, you suddenly burst into tears. Overwhelmed by how good he made you feel and how much he cares about you, your emotions fully take over.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?” Mingyu positions you so that you are sitting on his knee and rocks you gently back and forth.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m s-so happy.”

“You poor thing,” Mingyu chuckles softly. “Can’t believe you worked so hard to doll yourself up and make the room smell nice. You knew I was gonna ruin your lingerie anyway, didn’t you?”

“I just wanted to look good for you,” you admit with a pout.

“You always do. My best girl,” Mingyu kisses you sweetly and wraps you in his warm embrace, lulling you back to sleep.

🎀🎀🎀

The next morning, you wake up to the feeling of wanting to pee so badly. You manage to climb out of bed but barely make one step and trip on the ground. Uh oh. You got fucked so good you literally can’t walk.

Awakened by the loud thud, Mingyu is by your side in no time.

“What happened?”

“You happened,” you reply truthfully, but you don’t blame him because you brought this upon yourself.

“Oh…” Mingyu understands what you mean. “Did you want to use the toilet?”

“Uh, yeah. Gosh, this is so mortifying.”

You cover your face with your hands.

“I was literally deep inside of you a few hours ago, get over yourself,” Mingyu laughs and lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bathroom.

“Are you gonna stare at me?!” you ask in embarrassment.

“Might as well,” he laughs but gives you some privacy, even though there is no need to be shy after all the things you’ve done together.

After that, he insists on doing everything for you. You tell him you are perfectly capable of brushing your own teeth but nope, Mingyu wants to do that, as well. And honestly? It feels too good to reject.

He even makes breakfast and brings it to bed so you can share it together. As you take the first bite and drink the first sip of coffee for the morning, the feelings come crashing once again. And you start crying even harder than last night.

“Oh, baby, what is it?” Mingyu wants to know, as he brushes your hair behind your ear and wipes your tears.

“N-nothing, you’re just so amazing and kind I feel extremely touched.”

“You do realize this is literally the bare minimum, right?” Mingyu seems shocked. He just made pancakes. It’s not some heroic act, in his humble opinion.

“It’s so rare to find a lovely guy like you, though,” you admit.

“Well, my good girl deserves only the best,” he smiles shyly and kisses your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning wider than ever before.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll want to be good for you forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The End

[berrygoodjob]

mdni 18+

Pervert!TokyoDebunkers hc

Ft: Jin, Towa, Leo, Jiro, Taiga

Part two part three

Jin Kamurai

—pervert!Jin who loves to watch you kneel down or get on your knees for him…. even if you’re just cleaning something up. seeing you on your knees looking up at him is his favorite thing

—pervert!Jin who is too proud to compliment you, but he will be pulling you onto his lap when you’ve done e a good job at any of the little meaningless tasks he gives throughout the day.

—pervert!Jin who rests his chin in the crook of your neck and say “what a good little servant for me.” In a raspy tone, way too flirty to be taken any other way. He’s a gentleman though and will let you go right after

—pervert!Jin who has his dick in his fist the second you leave the room, cursing himself for not having more self control.

—pervert!Jin who is very slightly temped to see just how far you’d go to follow his commands. He’ll definitely call you desperate, even though he’s the one that’s fantasizing about it

Towa Otonoshi

—pervert!Towa who swears that tank top you’re wearing is going to be the death of him

—pervert!Towa makes a little cloudburst pour right onto you, soaking your shirt to make it completely see through

—pervert!Towa acts like he doesn’t notice how see through it is, but he’s taking a mental picture for later when he’s alone

—pervert!Towa who likes to surprise you with seemingly sweet hugs, but actually he’s reveling in the feeling of your waist on his fingertips, and how good it feels to have you pressed up against him

—pervert!Towa who grinds against you just enough for it to be mistaken as an accident

—pervert!Towa who’s always tempted to reach his hands just a little further down, but reminds himself that it wouldn’t be very romantic…..

Leo Kurosagi

—pervert!Leo who accidentally listened in on you masturbating once and now keeps a record of what times you usually do it so he can be nearby and get the full audio show

—pervert!Leo who swears he just flirts with you because he wants you to fall for him (he says he just thinks it’d be funny)

—pervert!Leo who openly checks you out just to see that cute flustered reaction from you

—pervert!Leo who has tried to sneak his way into getting some pics of your undies via his blackmail list

—pervert!Leo who swears he’s not interested at all but anytime he’s trying to get himself off, his mind wanders to the sweet sweet little sounds you make while he imagines it’s your hand instead of his

—pervert!Leo who now gets hard every time he hears your voice

Jiro Kirisaki

—pervert!Jiro who has seen many bodies before. Dead and alive ones to, but has never gotten hard at the sight of one until you

—pervert!Jiro who doesn’t get why but seeing you in that stupid medical gown, knowing that your backside is exposed, makes him feel very needy

—pervert!Jiro who tries to maintain professionalism, but will still try to sneak a few peeks during your checkup

—pervert!Jiro who takes a pair of you underwear as he’s leaving while you’re distracted

—pervert!Jiro who’s so exhausted by the end of the day, so he just lays back in his bed the second he gets the chance and pulls out what he stole from you and rubs it lazily along his dick before he’s called back to work

Taiga Hoshibami

—pervert!taiga who never even tries to hide his perverted thoughts

—pervert!taiga who pulls you into his lap and calls you his good luck charm

—pervert!taiga who will try to sneak a few fingers inside of you while you’re in his lap(if you’re cooperative). He doesn’t care if you’re in public

—pervert!taiga who will put his hands on your hips and grind on your ass in the center of the casino (only if you let him bc consent).

—pervert!taiga who will practically purr into your neck how good you are for him and keep a mental note of exactly what places to touch on your body to get you as turned on as he is

—pervert!taiga who isn’t hesitating for even a moment and tries to get you into a bunny suit calling it “entertainment for the casino patrons” even though he doesn’t want anyone else to see you in it

[crookedteethed]

18+

⋆ ★ for what its worth, it's not a bad thing that rafe fantasizes about his little (step)sister.

A/N: This was suppose to be a full fic, but I forgot where I was going with this and now I'm just trying to clear out my drafts 😭 Also, barely proofread.

Rafe often thought about how snug your tight little cunt would fit around his length. He wondered about the type of sound that would escape your plump lips the moment he first sheaths himself inside of you, he imagined it’ll be lewd whimper sound, analogous to a baby kittens purr.

He’d like the idea of taking you raw, taking you raw with no sort of preparation. Of course, you’d be wet, he thought. But it wouldn’t be enough lubrication in the world to get you accustomed to his size.

But that’s what Rafe liked. He’d like your aching pain at the expense of his aching pleasure, and boy did he ache.

You’ll be begging him, and god does he love your begging.

“Rafe s’too big” you’d whine or “Rafe, it’snot going to fit.”

He’d smirk at himself and continue to slowly sink into your cunt because your callow mind wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the ache his fingers could cause you or his swollen red tip—which would be how far he’d gotten inside you before you started to whine.

When he’s fully inside you, he’d still. Enveloping himself in the delicious pleasure of your warm, velvet cunt. He’d be flourishing in every little squeeze or spasm you’d make, and he feels like he’s going to bust his load on the spot.

But it’d be something more to it then just your warm cunt squeezing him, or your little whimpers.

It’ll be the sheer thought that he was inside the only girl he knew he couldn’t have on the island, which in the years have made you desirable, and made him want you even more.

And for what it’s worth, it’s not like you were his blood sister or anything. And it wasn't like the two of you had grown up side by side all your lives like say him and Sarah.

So when Rafe saw you that morning, a little sleep in your eyes, and in a pair of tiny sleep shorts that made your ass look so plump, he knew Ward or your mother would have a fit if they saw you walking around the house in them; he saw it as a sign that you wanted to fuck him too, just like he dreamed of fucking you.

So, tonight may be the night, he thought. Ward and your mother'll be out on buisness, Sarah and Wheezie with their friends somewhere, leaving you all alone at Tannyhill.

He'll postpone the plans he had made with Top and Kelce that night, as tonight was going to be the night Rafe finally got to fuck his little (step) sister.

[amourdivine]

୨ ♡ ୧ WHAT WOULD IT BE LIKE TO DATE THEM?   ઉ

Hello lovelies, welcome to another PAC! This is mostly an intuitive reading about what it'd be like to date the person on your mind. This can work for a crush, a friend or someone you know and are romantically interested in - it does not work for celebrities or strangers. If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ amourdivinetarot@gmail.comvia paypal! xo ♡

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HOW TO CHOOSE YOUR PILE.  take a few deep breaths and look at each picture separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

PILE 1

I feel nostalgic. You may be asking about an almost lover, someone you never really got off the ground with. Something failed. A failed talking stage, someone moved away, someone chose something or someone else. Maybe a childhood best friend who never looked at you in the same way, but the longing never really left, did it? Perhaps you’re asking about a same sex relationship and the other person is attracted to a different gender than yours.

You probably (still) love this person and your heart aches with what could’ve been, but the truth of it is that you always loved them more. If you were dating, you’d be left with the bittersweet feeling that there has to be more for the both of you… that maybe this isn’t enough, that maybe they don’t love you enough. Insecurities could arise, tears pricking at your eyes. You could feel like you’re too much and not enough for them, simultaneously.

The truth of this realization would be painful, but it would set you free. You’d finally understand why you were never meant to be with this person in the first place. Sometimes when we get what we want, we find out it isn’t what we need. If the two of you dated, you’d realize they’re not all that and that maybe you always deserved more than what they could offer. It’d be a painful realization, because none of your fantasies came true. After all, they were just fantasies about this person… and the unrequited love was best left that way… unrequited. 

It reminds me of a quote I saw a couple of weeks ago. When you find out you’re on the wrong train, you get off immediately. Don’t waste your precious time taking the train which will lead you to the wrong destination.

PILE 2

There is calm here. A lot of peace and understanding. I don’t know if either one of you would be ready for this love, somehow. It sounds like someone could still be stuck in a chaser-runner dynamic, maybe one of you feels like love has to be earned, that love has to hit hard and violently. Maybe chaos feels safer than, well, safety. I also heard “the calm before the storm”.

Either way, this relationship would teach you calmness, tranquility. It would teach you the gentleness of routine, of self-control and discipline. This is not the kind of whirlwind romance people speak of in movies, but this is the kind of steady, strong love that builds over time. Very strong Saturn energy. Reliable, firm. There is nothing unpredictable or unstable about it – even though some people fantasize about the kind of love that sweeps them off their feet, this relationship would ground you like a tree growing from its deep roots.

“Soulmates are not born, they’re made”, it may be something that resonates with this pile. You’d learn about each other and stick through thick and thin. It isn’t the kind of flashy, ultra romantic love that’s seen on Tiktok or Instagram. There is something beautiful and quiet about it, like a safe haven, a cozy cabin in the woods where you go when you need to clear your mind. It is wise and soulful, something like a dead language spoken between only two people. 

PILE 3

I always think of Romeo & Juliet when The Lovers comes to mind. Not in a tragic way. This is the kind of relationship where two people compliment each other. Their differences might make things rough, but that’s where they grow. You are too different and too similar at once, you challenge and learn in each other’s presence because you are almost like two sides of the same coin. That can be amazing, but it can be really difficult if neither are willing to compromise or listen.

This relationship would require maturity. It’d be fun, but daring. Dating them could be amazing only if you are on the same page about your goals, desires and feelings. A lot of communication is required, but the love is there. The intensity, the longing stares and the ache to be with one another is far too real to be forgotten. Even if it didn’t last for long, dating them would be something like once in a lifetime. This pile may resonate with the concept of a divine counterpart. For you, it’s something deeper than a soulmate, almost. 

There’s a ride and die energy to it as well. You’d do everything together, for better or worse. This is the confidant, the best friend and the sensual lover all in one. If not handled carefully or maturely, as I mentioned, it can backfire. Remember that the lovers also appear in The Devil card, so it’s important to approach your love in a pure, honest and genuine way in order to benefit from everything this relationship has to offer you. The choices you make in regards to this person matter.

PILE 4

Lonely, it’d be lonely. Dating them would leave you more than just unsatisfied. This person would abandon you halfway. They’d make promises they cannot keep, based on insincere and vapid feelings. They’re good at crafting illusions and would likely change their mind – shallow, impressed by meaningless things.

Dating them would be a lesson – unfortunately not in a happy way. You’d enter this relationship as a page and leave as a hermit, much more aware of your own surroundings, of your habits and inner self. However, it would be isolating and depressing to go through so much pain for so little joy. If you are not involved with this person, chances are you should be grateful that things didn’t work out. The benefits wouldn’t be worth it in the long run. You can go through this journey of self-discovery without all the pain this person would put you through.

I see puddles, I see crying. Sad playlists and the word ‘lonely’ keeps playing in my head. Although they may have seemed promising in the beginning, like a prince charming, like a fairytale come true, this relationship would be nothing but disappointment, deceit and heartbreak. They can’t even compare to the fullness of your heart and the love you are willing to give. This person only knows selfishness and you are best away from them.

amourdivine 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content!

DISCLAIMER. tarot is a divination tool, it’s not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i don’t take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. be mindful ♡

[karmicgalaxies]

NSFW Alphabet — Morph

18+ Content MDNI!

Morph (Aka Kevin Sydney) X Reader

Disclaimers: This is just what I think for the sake of fun and whimsy! Implied unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it!), mentions of a Threesome, Riding, Face-fucking, Face-sitting, Vibrators, Light Bondage, Body Worship, Blindfolds & Squirting. Poorly proofread, excuse any errors!

Reader referred to in a gender neutral sense, AFAB reader pictured when writing, however genitals aren’t specified!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Teasing and being a cheeky little shit aside, Morph is an absolute sweetheart. They already see sex as something highly intimate. A dance of not just passion and lust, but an act of trust with their partner’s body, and them with theirs. That being said, aftercare is a big deal to them.

No matter the intensity of the session, they’ll always make sure that you’re okay, always helping clean up the mess the two of you made, and give you some kisses paired with soft caress. And, who could forget the teasing about the sounds that escaped your pretty lips for them during the act? Even laid up together basking in the afterglow of your passions, you never know true peace. But, you’re more than okay with that.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

When It comes to their partner, Morph’s favorite body part would definitely have to be your hips. They’re just so grabable. They’re easy to wrap an arm or two around, grip onto while they grind themselves onto your ass from behind when you don’t expect it, and damn are they good handles for when you ride their cock. They just love the look of them and how easy it makes it to handle you.

Morph themself have some insecurities. They’ll transform into their more human looking form to try and appease you as they think that’d be what you want. However upon your further insistence of loving them and being attracted and aroused by them as they are in their true form, they learn to come to appreciate themselves a helluva lot more. Though they’d definitely say their face. It’s a perfect seat, nuff said.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Morph LOVES to watch you cum, seeing the mess that you make just turns them on tenfold, making their cock absolutely throb at the sight. Especially if you make a mess on them or in their mouth. They’ll lap that mess right up and come up to kiss you, just so you can taste yourself on their tongue.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

They constantly fantasize about a threesome between you and Logan. They wonder what it’d be like, though for that’d be wistful thinking for it to come to fruition. For now, it’s masturbation material to give that extra edge. ;)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Morph isn’t the most experienced person if you’d compare them to someone like Scott or Logan, but they’ve garnered enough experience to know what they’re doing, and they never fall short of leaving you properly pleasured.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that allows Morph a good look at your face, they simply adore. Being able to maintain eye contact, as well as having opportunities to kiss you absolutely senseless as their cock drives into you in one way or another is just absolute bliss. Not to mention the opportunity for teasing. Watching your face contort as you get fucked and seeing those pretty eyes roll back into your head give them absolute ammunition to tease you about it through and through. Some of the things they say are absolute filth, though it only betters the experience as they get to see your face react to their comments of your obscenely lewd sounds or their mention of how pathetic you sound.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As serious and passionate as sex can be at times, Morph is pretty humorous throughout, their personality does not hesitate one bit to shine through. Best believe they’ll still crack their wise muses, making smart comment after smart comment. all in all, the occasional laughs will be had. Makes every experience more memorable.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Given the fact that Morph lacks eyebrows and hair atop their head, it’d be a safe, yet correct assumption that they have an overall lack of body hair. However in their human form, they have a little happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

They are very passionate during sex. Wether it be soft love making, or rough fucking, the passion is almost overwhelming. Amongst the eye contact, they’re muttering out praises for you, telling you how good you feel, how much of a good job you’re doing. Dependent on what type of session is going on, they can be sweeter or a bit more vulgar depending.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Usually, Morph is pretty good at maintaining their composure, though it can only be helped so much when you’re gone for an extended period of time. If they’re real desperate, they might just turn into you as they masturbate. Just so that they can imagine they’re getting a feel of you even though you aren’t present.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink. They live for your approval, being told their doing a good job, that they feel good, etc. They’re into face sitting and face fucking, as well as some light bondage and blindfold use. Morph enjoys occasionally having you to their mercy, makes things quite interesting and fun for you both! Also, body worship.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The real question is where wouldn’t they wanna fuck you? Though traditionally, Morph’s favorite places are in the bedroom and the showers. (wink wink nudge nudge) They offer an intimate setting that include just the two of you, though they would be lying to themselves if they haven’t pictured taking you in other places of the mansion.. They’ll definitely have to talk to you about that.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dirty talk and suggestive banter. Morph is chalk full of jokes and no doubt they make some suggestive comments here or there. When that teasing energy is reciprocated, it never fails to get them all worked up, hot and bothered with those words of scandalous promise falling from that pretty mouth that they’re totally not envisioning their cock stuffed inside of while you’re on your knees.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that plays with the bounds of consent or the possibility of bringing extreme pain or unsavory circumstance upon either you or them. Morph’s not a fan of anything that causes a threat to your security or comfort. They don’t get off on pain, wether it be feeling it or dealing it out. (Unless it’s a nice firm tap on your ass) If you’re gonna fuck, they want to make sure they have your consent, and to ensure you’re in good hands. No if’s and’s or but’s!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Morph’s an even mix of loving to give as well as receive, But oh what fun it is to see you absolutely crumble under the ministrations of his mouth and tongue. They’re pretty good at giving head, it doesn’t take a genius to know their way around. Though even then, Morph takes the extra mile to be a very attentive lover. Oral sex can be a delicate ordeal, so they find themselves paying attention to what makes you react in all the right ways. Finding out what are your sensitive spots, and knowing just how to work that mouth to get your back arching and toes curling in absolutely ecstasy. They’re a generous partner all throughout.

But oh how they love to receive as well. A warm mouth just wrapping itself around their cock, leaving them a mess of moans and whines, resisting the temptation to just buck their hips and just fuck the ever loving shit out of your face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

They can be a mix of both, depending on the occasion! If it’s a more sensual love making night, they’ll settle for slow and sensual. However if it’s more of a passionate fuck, then the fast and rough will be more prominent. Though their pace ultimately is determined by what you beg him for! Less, their being a tease and Morph’s thrusts are achingly slow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Absolutely! Despite loving the long drawn out sessions, They’ll never pass up on a quickie, taking you in a secluded corner or place. The risk factor of it all adding to the thrill and overall arousal. They’re not common, but when they do happen, they’re worth the while!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Morph isn’t too big on big risks, though despite quickies, they aren’t opposed to getting a bit…frisky. They can get pretty touchy feely, even being as bold to slide a hand down your pants if the occasion allows.

They’re also open to experimentation in the bedroom, so long it’s something the two of you agree can be pleasurable to you both, They’re more than willing to try out any positions, kinks, and ideas!

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Their stamina is pretty average, it isn’t anything super humanly excessive, however they can go for quite a few rounds, longer with adequate breaks. In terms of how long they can last, they’ve got pretty good endurance of a few minutes, though that can decrease if Morph is being reduced to an absolute mess.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

They definitely own one or two vibrators. Mostly with intent on using them on you, however they sure won’t be opposed to having them used on themself!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

One of the biggest teases on the goddamn planet. Leaving lingering touches everywhere except for where you really need them, slowing down a pace if they feel like being cocky. Hell, Morph will even tease with their words, adding further insult to injury at a denial of the pleasures you so seek.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

They are NOT quiet by any stretch of the woods. Chances are, Morph is whining and moaning right along with you. They are very vocal, and don’t shy away from that fact. They are a whiny little bitch, god forbid if you ride them, their soul is just snatched up at that point. If they feel good, you will know.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

They absolutely love when they make you squirt. (If applicable) It’s such an addicting sight and feel, they can’t get enough of it. They’re hard as a goddamn diamond at the sight of you soaking the sheets, the floor beneath you, through your intimates and your bottoms, etc. they just love to see and feel it. As well as occasionally have a taste of it. (This is more of a thing for AFAB readers but I really do think they’d have a thing for their partner squirting, I just feel it in my nuggets man-)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

They’re about average size more or less! 5.5 to 6 inches long, and a comfortable girth, perfect size. Their cock is long enough to please, and thick enough to stretch you and make you cum. No leaving you dissatisfied that’s for sure!

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Morph’s sex drive isn’t anything crazy, something else that’s pretty average. Though it’s pretty easy to deliberately rile them up and get them extremely hot and bothered . Continue at your discretion ;)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Morph doesn’t let themself fall asleep until they know you’ve been cleaned up and cared for properly after sex. Though even then, they’ll stay up with you, embrace you as they listen to you speak about whatever your heart desires. Though if you want to sleep, they’re fine with that too, and will follow suit.

[sluttywonwoo]

for the lix thots... catching him jerking off 🤭

you walking in on felix with his cock in his hand was not how he imagined confessing his feelings to you… but here he was, dick still hard (throbbing, actually), head hung in shame.

it would’ve been bad enough if you had just caught him jerking off. but no, he had to go and make it a million times worse by blurting “i only think about you sometimes!” as soon as he locked eyes with you.

it was a lie, obviously. he thinks about you all the time, even when he’s not jerking off. but when he is, his thoughts always drifts to you. it’s not like it’s on purpose… ok sometimes it is but usually he tries not to think about you because you’re a friend and he shouldn’t think about you that way.

friends don’t think about eating their friends out, or kissing their friends’ necks while they have their fingers buried inside of them. and friends definitely don’t think about the faces their friend makes when they cum. absolutely not. never.

-

“fuck, i’m so sorry!” he cries, yanking a pillow onto his lap.

“no, i’m sorry, i should have knocked,” you insist. “but um, can we circle back to the thing you just said a minute ago?”

“i was hoping we could skip past it,” he mumbles.

“we can’t.”

“about that, i’m really really sorry. that must sound so creepy, and i’m sure it’s hurtful to hear that someone you thought to be your friend was thinking about you like that-”

“actually i was offended,” you interrupt, and felix’s heart sinks to his stomach. “why don’t you think about me all the time?”

???

“pardon?”

“why am i not the only one you fantasize about?”

it’s dark in the room but felix thinks you’re pouting.

“you… want me to?” he asks, unsure.

“well, yeah. i think about you all the time.”

“WHAT?!”

you shrug like it’s no big deal. “you’re hot. i think you’d be good in bed. but we’re not talking about me right now.”

“i think we should be.”

“lix, focus.”

he clears his throat, nodding. “right, so what i said was actually a lie.”

you frown. “you don’t think about me?”

“if you’d let me finish,” he cringes at the double entendre in his hand but pushes through, “it was a lie because i think about you all the time. you’re the only person i think about. i… only said that because it was the first thing my horny brain could conjure up when you walked in on me and i thought it’d somehow make the situation better.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“i know,” felix whines, leaning his head back against the wall. he hears you moving around his room but he doesn’t open his eyes again until you clear your throat. you’re a lot closer than you were just a few seconds ago, and you’re staring down at felix with an air of amusement dancing in your eyes. he can see you a lot clearer now that you’re not so far away, now that your figure isn’t silhouetted in the doorway by the light from hall. “um. what are you doing?”

“wanted a better view.”

“a better view of what?”

you nod at the pillow resting on his thighs. “aren’t you going to let me see it?”

“see what?”

“you. jerking off.”

“huh?”

you didn’t want to… join him? or have him get you off? you just wanted to watch?

felix feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment. he can’t meet your gaze.

“i interrupted you, didn’t i? you should finish what you started.”

“but what about you?”

“you can take care of me later,” you assure felix, flustering him for an entirely new reason. “but for now, i want to see what i’ve been missing all these months.”

[beneaththehalo]

tipsy — continuation [rafayel x fem! reader]

mdni; 18+ only. a smut continuation of rafayel’s 4-star “tipsy” card, contains spoilers. i absolutely lost my mind listening to this card, especially the ending. just more proof that this man will always have my heart. warnings for; pet names, breast play (nipple sucking), fingering, protected p in v sex. ~2k words. link to ao3!

there is an unspoken tension between the two of you as rafayel walks you home from your night of drinking and delicious food. you fiddle with the necklace between your forefinger and thumb, thinking about the events that just transpired. the kissing, the pleading to not forget him, and man, you really didn’t want this night to end. sure, he’d wait for your calls every weekend and his ego was stoked to find you had printed adorable pictures of the two of you to keep close, but it was never the same. distance was agony for rafayel. distance meant forgetting, and forgetting meant loss.

but as he walks you to your door, offering you a tender goodbye kiss, you want more. perhaps it was the alcohol still lingering in your veins that made you bold, or maybe it was an admission of pent up feelings. you had skirted around labels for far too long, and now rafayel had something to prove. he wanted to make it so you’d never forget. in those long weeks of training, it’d be the thought of him and this night that you touched yourself to. he’s still a gentleman though, “are you sure love? don’t wanna…” he mumbles, before he’s cut off by another kiss. “i’m sure raf,” you whisper against his lips. “i wanna remember you… remember, this” she pleas quietly. that was the permission he was waiting for.

clothes were discarded clumsily on the floor of your bedroom, but rafayel didn’t want to rush this. not after he had been fantasizing about it for so long. not only did he want you to remember, but he wanted to never forget. every sound, every wrinkle in your face, the way your eyes gazed up at him, and how you responded to his touch. he wanted it burned into his memory. “you’re so beautiful,” he hiccups sincerely, before he trails soft kisses down your neck and you can tell that he really means it. he admired you more than any luxurious art piece. you squirm as you feel his teeth bite into the flesh on the side of your neck, marking you with not-so-subtle purple hue as evidence.

a mewl leaves your pursed lips as your impatient hands trace shapes across his moles on his bare chest. he looked like a god in this lighting, all flushed and needy from alcohol mixed with lust. As they eventually trail to his waistband, he croaks out, “wait!” You immediately rip your hands back, stopping your movements as concern etches into your features. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nipping at your earlobe as he whispers, “I just don’t wanna rush mi amor.” You nod in understanding, moving your hands to play with his hair instead as his lips continue to trail down between the valley of your breasts, where your new locket lies. 

His hands come to caress the soft flesh, as you let out a milquetoast moan in response. “You’re perfect darling, just perfect,” he whispers, before gently suckling a pert nipple into his mouth and moving his other hand to massage the free one. “Rafayel,” you whine, tugging softly at the hair on the nape of his neck. he lets your nipple go with a wet pop, a trail of sloppy kisses headed to your neglected one. “Doing so good for me honey, just relax,” he coos. The praise makes your head spin, and you’re downright dizzy when his spare hand begins to trail lower. Just a singular finger parts you, feeling the gathered wetness from a night of flirting and romantic gestures. You were already dripping onto your sheets in anticipation; your body saying what your tongue never could. Upon feeling this, Rafayel lets out a low groan, his black pupils swallowing his purple irises. 

His touch is hesitant at first, careful as he learns what makes you feel best. His mouth relents its assault on your other nipple, so in exchange he can watch your facial expressions. When the pad of his thumb finally reaches your throbbing clit, you let out an involuntary squeak, clapping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Rafayel observes you quizzically, raising an eyebrow at your response. He continues his gentle ministrations on your clit as his free hand reaches to remove it from your mouth. “You wouldn’t deprive me of such wondrous sounds, would you?” He taunts, interlacing his fingers with yours and pinning it to the mattress. Entirely at his mercy, you let out a soft whine, panting as he draws this out agonizingly slow. You find yourself babbling and begging for him to touch you at this point, the fire in your belly a brilliant blaze by now.

He’s benevolent for now, swallowing your sounds in a searing kiss. His tongue meshes with yours, licking into the recesses of your mouth and tasting the faint hint of alcohol on your tongue. His fingers also get impatient, the first one testing the waters and sliding in easily. You squeeze around it, desperate to feel more. He chuckles softly, his ego inflated, “Already ready for more?” You couldn’t tell if it was a genuine question or a taunt, but you eagerly nod your head in response. A broken plea of ‘please’ leaves your parted lips. And he is done denying you.

He slides a second finger into your pliancy, curling his fingers against the spongey sector. He realizes he was probably in the right spot as after a few careful strokes to your clit and the curve of his fingers brought your first orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. White heat blinds you as the flames lick down your every nerve ending, causing you to cry out and claw at the exposed skin on his back - marking him as he had marked you. “Such a good girl. Gods, you’re gorgeous,” he grins, gently removing his fingers from you. He makes sure you watch as he licks his hand clean, humming at the sweet taste of your orgasm. It beat the expensive dinner by a landslide.

As you recover from the aftershocks of your orgasm, panting and coated in a thin sheen of sweat, rafayel gently takes your entertained hand and leads it to the hem of his boxers. His way of granting you permission to undress him. Your effects on him already pertinent as you notice the small wet patch from the precum he had been leaking, and his cock straining against the taut fabric of his boxer briefs. Your hands tremble with desire as you strip him, admiring him in full nudity as you would a fine sculpture. Words fail you, but he can see the attraction in your eyes and he offers you a sincere smile in return. With a few strokes of his hand, he rolls a condom down his erection. You tried to protest, insisting you were protected, but Rafayel was ever stubborn - “Can’t have my darling bodyguard getting pregnant before a big training. Wouldn’t be able to support her properly. We can always reunite like this again,” he trails off, cocky undertone suddenly gone, “if you remember… or want too,” he whispers.

You gently take your free hand, cupping his downtrodden chin and lifting it to meet your sincere gaze. “Of course I do Rafayel,” you say firmly, trying to string together your hazy braincells to form a coherent thought. He smiles, though it still has a hint of forlornness - a hidden longing he won’t quite vocalize. “One night at a time,” he says, nuzzling his nose against yours as he aligns himself with your entrance. “Ready?” He asks for confirmation, and with an encouraging nod, he slowly sheathes himself inside you. Your cacophony of groans ringing out against your bedroom walls as you both relish the feeling. 

He gazes at you with heavy lids as you adjust to the stretch, a silent request of asking if he can move yet. You take the opportunity to pull his swollen lips into another tender kiss, almost to reassure his microscopic worries. You pull apart just enough to vocalize that he could move. He rocks his hips back, crashing them back into you. The first stroke alone electrifies your senses, a low groan escaping from your chest as you gaze at him through long lashes. “Angel, you can’t look at me like that,” Rafayel begins to groan, “I won’t last.” But you can’t help it, it’s as if the Gods had molded him to specifically to fit (and fill) you. 

At this point, you’re a bit too fucked out to even respond properly, most of the sounds leaving you as incoherent babbles of pleasure. With ease, Rafayel had twisted and molded you into positions no other man had dreamed of putting you in, each one feeling better than the last. You got glimpses of your legs on his shoulders, around his waist, and at one point your face was pressed against the pillow. He had the stamina of an Olympic swimmer and then some. If it was his goal for you to remember this, you certainly would. Your body would bare the marks of the barrage of his affections for the next few days, but the scenes itself would replay in your mind like a movie. It was safe to say, you were thoroughly ruined for anyone else, but you preferred it that way. They would never be your Rafayel.

“I’m close,” he huffs, pressing his forehead against yours and pulling you out of your haze. You nod in acknowledgment as your hands continue to cling to him, even more dejected that you would have to let him go so soon. “Together,” you manage to choke out, interlacing your fingers with his. And with a few more gyrations of his hips, you’re both finish - clinging to one another like a desperate lifeline, not ready to say goodbye, even if only temporary. You bask in the afterglow for a few moments. The only sound echoing off the walls was your heavy breathing as you try to catch your breath after what had just occurred. Rafayel is still whispering praises, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, and kissing in between breaths as he begins to start the aftercare.

He helps you to the shower, an arm wrapped around your waist as he starts the warm water. “I’ll be right behind you,” he promises, before he strips the bedsheets for you and replaces them with fresh ones from the dryer. Then he steps inside the shower where he notices a few stray tears on your cheeks. Concern washes over him as he holds you close. He would ask you what’s wrong, but he already knew. Things felt different now between you both, and to leave tomorrow leave a pit in both of your stomachs. “I promise I’ll wait for you,” he mumbles into your hair. “I’ll always wait for you,” he reassures as he helps clean you off with a soothing soap lather. 

By the time you’re back in bed, you’re exhausted. Your eyelids fight to stay open if only to continue to gaze at Rafayel for a few moments longer. “Sleep beloved,” he hums, petting your hair softly. He doesn’t look exhausted at all, content to just be beside you. “But I —“ you start to protest, but are immediately silenced with a goodnight kiss. “I’ll wake you in the morning to take you training,” he promises, as you finally succumb to sleep, curled up in his embrace.

Rafayel doesn’t sleep much that night, talking to the moon and hoping that it hears him. Hoping that if there isn’t some disgraced God out there listening, that somehow she would remember this. That she would remember him. This is especially heightened as he drops her off at the bus stop, wiping the stray tear from your cheek. “Train well Miss Bodyguard,” he says in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before allowing you to climb on the bus. “I’ll see you as soon as I get back,” you promise, waving to him as the bus takes off for your hunting trip.

beneaththehalo || est. 2024

[yeahtimesten]

18+, mdni / maybe modern!au or 2019!patrick if you want tbh idk but smartphones r involved

you and your friends are out barhopping on the city strip, you’ve already hit three different places and you’re ordering at least two drinks per place. you and the three other girls you go out with are rowdy and obnoxious at this point, definitely wasted. and your shared ‘locker room talk’ with the besties is something so perverted, so nasty. but they say drunk words are sober thoughts. and the topic at hand is something probably every woman universally agrees on.

yeah, dick pics are gross and all, but: “nut vids with the sound on,” you’re cackling at your friends proclamation. “those get me freaky. like wet wet.”

“dude, yessss, that’s what i’m sayinggg,” another friend agrees.

and you’re laughing along. but really, you had never received one. you knew the meme, and you saw the appeal, but you had never seen one.

don’t get me wrong, you and patrick are still gettin’ it on over the phone and video chat, doing everything else possible to bridge the gap that distance brought you. being a tennis player on tour, working up to the big leagues, was something you wholeheartedly supported for your boyfriend. to keep morale up, you even sent him a gift box once complete with polaroids, a spicy letter spritzed with your signature perfume, and a pair of worn panties, baby pink and silk with a lacy little trim. you liked to treat him like that.

and he treated you too, with new panties and outfits he wanted to see you in and other miscellaneous gifts, and good dick too whenever he was able to come around and see you. but when you got to thinking, you realized a majority of the gifts he gave you, were really a gift for himself as well. yeah, he’d jerk off to you on video calls, but it wasn’t for you, it’d just be weird if his cam wasn’t on when yours was too.

another round of shots were had before the four of you were making your way to the next bar, the last stop of the night. and you were trailing behind your three friends, typing on your phone to him. partially because you are ovulating, definitely because you were drunk, and you were a tad bit in your head now too thinking about the things patrick could be doing for you, but you were going absolutely feral in his dms.

babyyy wen r u gna see me next :(

i miss uuuu hehehe

need ur hand around my neck while u finger me NEOWWW

and he’s receiving all your texts with fervor. you’re totally exciting him and arousing him. but hes crossfaded (on tour? smh, but he’s celebrating a win as well as the end of this leg of travel) out with other players that he’s met so his replies are just as desperate and sad and pathetic as yours.

soon gorjus

be there b4 u kno it

cant wait for u to take my dick

send pix ?

and when you get to the next bar, you immediately excuse yourself to the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall, posing with your shirt lifted. your perfect tits are exposed to the camera, and because you love and trust your boyfriend, at least half of your face is still in frame too. your lips are slightly pouting, and you know that detail will drive him mad. and you snap another, but this one is an underskirt shot; you standing up in the stall, with your panties pulled down over your mid thighs, also in frame, from behind at the perfect angle to showcase your ass, with a hint of your pretty pussy in frame. and you send both to him in a photo set.

earlier, you sent him more innocently posed but still quite sexy outfit photos and selfies before going out. you did this every time you left the house basically. it was both endearing and such a huge turn on for him, no matter how you were dressed. your outfit was especially scantily clad tonight, so he was already having dirty thoughts of you. he was supportive of what you wore, and was never really controlling, but he wished he were by your side protecting you from other creeps who’d love to sneak a peak. and he had already fantasized about taking you to a dingy bathroom in one of these dive bars you frequented that he saw in the background of your photos, and bending you over the sink and fucking you from behind, both of you watching in the mirror.

both of your data connections were shitty, but he was texting you that he was heading home. he couldn’t wait any longer and needed to get off to you now. and he asked if you were going home any time soon.

another shot, and nursing a midori sour, or whatever your drink of choice is, you and your friends are still chatting and having a wild time, but you’re having flashbacks to the last time you both were together. you remember him boring into your wet cunt, on top of you, in the back of your car at the airport, because you couldn’t bare to part without one last fuck. your thighs squeezed together, trying to dismiss the warm pit forming in your stomach.

you were relieved when one of your friends decided to call it quits, and since your apartment complexes were so close to each other, you decided to share an uber. as you two waited for the ride, you finally received his texts and confirmed you’d be home soon too and that you two could call and take care of each other. and on the ride back, while your friend is talking your ear off, you check your phone again to see a snapchat. patrick sent you a video.

without thinking, you clicked on the notification to see what he sent. and now who would have guessed, that in this moment, you’d see a video he recorded of his cock out, laying in the dark on his bed, his flash was on. his dick glistened with his spit, as he slowly started stroking his shaft and playing with his tip. in a panic, you lock your phone and stuff it back into your purse, face flush with embarrassment.

your friend looks at you with furrowed brows. “you okay?” and you nod, hoping she hadn’t taken a good peak at your screen.

“i’m fine,” you smile. you’re more than fine, you’re seeing stars. and you’re anxious to reach home. after what feels like an eternity, you’re finally there. you skip up the steps and and climbed the flights of stairs until you reach your floor. the anticipation is getting the better of you as you fumble with your keys. but finally, you’re inside and it’s oasis. your place to be horny and out of control.

you flop on your bed and reopen snapchat, 5 more segments of that video waiting for you to open. you turn up your volume to max. in next clip of the video, he’s still taking his time stroking slow and you can hear his breath hitching, yours matching in real time. his breathing is heavy and loud, as little moans and groans escape his lips.

i fucking love you baby, he says in the clip. i’m so fucking hard for you.

and you’re so wet for him, as you reach down and start rubbing circles into your clit above your underwear. the video keeps going, and he picks up the pace, his moans getting louder. you love how he isn’t silent in bed. he’s so vocal and sweet, showing you he’s enjoying it just as much as you are.

the next reel starts, and he is fully jerking off, his breathing getting faster. you know what’s about to come. him. and with one final guttural groan, he does. glistening white cum leaks out gently, and he continues to stroke, much slower, making sure to milk every last drop.

r u home yet baby ?

he texted you.

- ya

and immediately, you have an incoming facetime. you answer and the camera is pointed to just his face, still sitting in the dark.

“hey, princess, how was your night out,” he asked.

“it was good,” you said. “i accidentally opened your snap in front of my friend though.”

“i texted you to wait until you were home to see it,” he laughs at you.

you didn’t receive that text. but you were just stunned he practically read your mind, that you wanted exactly that video.

“i missed you.”

“how much baby?”

“so so much, i couldn’t wait to get home and talk to you,” you pouted.

“me neither,” he whispered. “i’m hard again, baby. wanna see?”

and before you answer, he’s pulled his phone back to angle on his cock, with his abdomen and face still in frame. he’s moving it around, teasing you with its length.

“i miss fucking you so bad. do you miss fucking me?” it’s your turn to tease, and you move your phone down to reveal your panties with a big wet splotch soaked into the fabric.

“you really were thinking of me all night, huh?” he’s starting to stroke himself again, and you do him the favor of bringing the camera back and pulling your shirt off. he’s obsessed with how hard your nipples are, and he moans for you.

“your tits are so perfect,” he breaths out. “touch yourself for me, baby. i wanna see you rub your clit.”

and like it’s a royal command, you pull your panties down, and show him your finger swirling around your wet cunt.

“that’s perfect, you’re perfect,” he says.

you’re watching each other get off and his mind is racing with things he wants to do to you, with you, for you. and he’s sharing about half of them with you.

“i can’t wait to fuck you again. i can take you out to dinner and a movie, and we can sit in the back row by ourselves and mess around.”

“and you can ride me in the passenger seat of your car.”

“i wanna play with your ass so bad and eat you out from the back.”

“finger your pussy for me, sexy. let me see you fuck yourself with your pretty manicured fingers that i paid for. you’re so fucking wet for me.”

and besides his new request, everything is in one ear and out the other. your sole focus is watching him get off so you can get off. and it’s working, the heat in your pelvis growing stronger, you are about to release any second. you can tell he is too, as his breathing is heavier and his words and incoherent and slurred, he sounds tortured. you move back to rubbing your clit.

“are you gonna cum, baby? i’m going to, i want you to cum with me,” he sighs.

“yeah baby, i’m gonna cum. i’m gonna cum patrick!”

your moans harmonize with each other as you both finish together and you both continue to touch yourself as the tension in your groins lessen. you’re still pulsating for moments after.

“i can’t wait to see you any longer, im booking a flight for tomorrow to see you,” he says, still huffing. and you can’t wait either.

[shirohige-pirates]

Sing for Me

Marco x afab!reader

Word count: 3.924

CW: oral (receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, mdni

Summary: Static electricity was enough to cause a strange problem, and Marco's losing his mind over it. He can hear your thoughts, and your on his mind way more than he expected.

Random inspiration, and completely self-indulgent.

Marco felt like he was losing his mind at first.

As far as he could tell it had just been a simple static shock between the two of you the other day. The build up of static in the current dry climate had just made the random brushing of fingers as you two worked together bite more than it should of.

Enough to cause you both to pull your hands back and shake them, laughing over it easily.

There hadn’t been anything else. No odd weather. No strange devil fruits or devil fruit users. No curses or odd alignment of the stars. Just that one unexpected crackle of dry electricity between you both.

And now he had a problem.

He could hear your thoughts.

And they were… detailed.

He was infamous for being able to keep calm. Thatch needled him all the time for how he looked on the brink of a nap every waking moment of any given day. He might be the First Division Commander, but he was easily approachable, and exceptionally laid back.

He’d worked to be that way. He didn’t want anyone to feel as though they needed to stay at arms’ length with him. But your thoughts were going to break him.

You thought about the shape of his lips. Wondered if he could transform just his tongue, and how deep it could go. You thought about the shape of his teeth against your skin, how it’d feel to have his talons at your throat. You wondered if he had a knot because of his devil fruit, and seemed fairly well convinced he could keep going all night.

He was flattered, and flabbergasted.

His second major problem was the simple fact that you were his assistant. There was no avoiding you.

Not that he wanted to avoid you, but until he could figure out how to un-hear your thoughts he was desperate for a break. He had been mostly certain you found him at least a little attractive - lucky him, he was pretty smitten with you himself, but as the commander he wasn’t going to pressure you like that.

That was less of an issue now. Your thoughts weren’t just lewd, you held him in high regard and seemed to love him dearly, but knowing all of it because of whatever this was, felt wrong. He couldn’t act on things he wasn’t supposed to know.

Two weeks later he was losing his mind. He’d even tried to create another static charge between you in the hope that it would sever whatever happened.

It hadn’t worked.

The night before last he’d been walking down the halls and gotten too close to you. There was, it seemed, a range limit, and there were plenty of places he could escape to for his own sake.

Marco, please.

He froze, standing in the hall and realizing that he was coming up on the showers.

Fuck I just want you to touch me, play with my tits. Lick my clit. I want to see those beautiful eyes looking up at me while you’re between my thighs.

He’d put his hands over his face, but that wasn’t going to block out the sound of your voice in his head. Nothing in his body wanted to move. If anything he was desperate to get closer. To give you everything you wanted of him.

Instead he stood there and listened to you fantasize about him until he could hear relief wash through you.

The way you always thought about wanting to fall asleep in his arms after you came was the hottest part of all of it. The wet spot in the front of his pants was a recurring issue, but he was able to get himself out of the hallway before you left the bath. It was everything he had in him to not just palm himself right there in the hall.

He could endure it. He had more self-control than that. He could.

He would.

He did.

Until he finally cracked.

The two of you were doing inventory for the medical supplies. Despite the size of the ship, Marco’s supplies and his office were relatively small. The crew was strong, haki stopped most injuries, devil fruits many others, and his devil fruit meant there was really only a need for major injury type supplies.

But even if the stock was small compared to the crew size, it was still important to keep it tallied and organized correctly.

You’d picked up a box of rolled up gauze spools and the thought in your head went straight into his.

I wonder if there’s enough gauze in here for him to tie me up and muffle the sounds while he fucks me stupid? Fuck that’d be hot.

He heard you sigh, soft as it was.

Marco’s amazing though, there’s no way he’d look at someone like me.

“Oi.” Marco says, setting down what he was working on and coming over to where you were knelt by the box of gauze rolls.

“Hm? Did you need something…” You look up and the words fade on your lips. Marco’s looking down at you with a strange expression. “… Commander?”

Marco looks up at the ceiling, letting out a long breath before he kneels down and looks right into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yoi.”

“S-sorry? Sorry for what?”

“… I’ve been able to hear your thoughts.” He begins, as you stare at him blankly for a second. “For the last couple of weeks.”

“My… how?”

“I don’t know, yoi.” He admits, rubbing his forehead. “We had that static shock a couple weeks ago and since then…”

“Since… my thoughts.” You stammer, understanding dawning on you as blush dusts Marco’s face.

“All of your thoughts.” He asserts.

Holy shit Marco’s blushing!

“Oi! Hey, stop - stop thinking!” He snaps, face burning bright red.

You clamp your hands over your mouth, even though you hadn’t said anything out loud.

All my thoughts?

Marco flinches. “All of them.”

Oh no.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner I-.”

“No it’s… it’s… I wouldn’t know what to say either.” You admit, hands on his shoulders, head down, eyes closed. “I… I should apologize.”

“Don’t.”

Your eyes open and you look up at him in surprise. He can’t hold your gaze for long before he looks away.

“You can think of me… however you want.” He clears his throat and looks back at you. “But… don’t think about yourself like that, please.”

“Like…?”

“There’s no way he’d look at someone like me.” He says, repeating your earlier thought. Your eyes go wide, and gratefully for you both your mind goes blank. Marco smiles, it’s soft and warm and he reaches out, brushing his finger tips against your cheek. “You’re beautiful, yoi.”

“I…”

“I’ve been listening to you praise me for weeks.” Marco says, his voice soft and low, eyes hooded, as he leans a little closer. “I’d be honored to… exceed that praise.”

“I - I… I…” Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water a few times, and it’s a credit to Marco being Marco that he’s keeping a straight face.

He leans forward, cheeky grin pulling at his lips, as he moves so he can speak right by your ear. Words meant for you and no one else. Not that anyone else was in the room with you both right now anyway.

“I can transform just my tongue.”

Your hands flinch against him and you can’t stop the nervous whimper that escapes you. The stark realization of everything he had to have heard sinks into you.

Holy fucking hells.

His hands are on your arms. You could pull away if you wanted, but he wanted to make sure you knew it was okay to stay. Okay to keep your hands on him. Okay for him to know your thoughts because he wasn’t going to hold them against you.

“I…”

“Take your time, yoi.” His voice is warm and reassuring. “You can just think it.”

I’m so embarrassed.

“Don’t be, you’re allowed to think what you want.”

You’re so hot it’s not fair.

The soft chuckle sends a thrill down your spine. “I’m flattered, pretty bird.”

I’m nobody, I’m just-

“You.” He says, gripping your arms a little harder and leaning back so he could look into your eyes. “Are everything.”

You suck in a breath in such surprise that you nearly hiccup. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes as emotions crash inside you. It was a whirlwind situation and you didn’t know what to think. It didn’t matter if he could read your mind, there was nothing you could even hold onto.

“I’ve… loved you… for a long time.” He says finally. “As your commander I didn’t think it was fair for me to say anything.” He explains. “But -.”

“I love you, too.” You manage to say, the words that had been stuck in your throat finally coming free. Tears spill down your cheeks alongside the words and you hide your face in his shoulder. “Don’t listen to my thoughts!”

“I can’t block them out, yoi.” Marco retorts, laughing as he hugs you, fingers against your back.

“I feel so bad,” you admit, words muffled against his shoulder.

“For what?”

“I objectified you so bad.”

“Your thoughts are your thoughts, it’s okay. You didn’t say anything unwelcome.” He assures you. “You didn’t smack my ass.”

“I wanted to.”

“I know, yoi.”

“It’s a perfect ass.”

“Oi. You’re killing me.” He sighs.

“It’s gotta be all those aerial maneuvers.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“You can hear everything?”

“Mm. There’s no overlap when you talk, and it’s not like it’s so loud it drowns out everything else.” He explains. “But it’s still your voice.”

“Mm.”

“And since I like the sound of your voice,” he begins.

“Don’t, no, no, no, don’t say that.” It was too embarrassing.

“But you don’t moan in your thoughts.” He continues, going down a line of thought you hadn’t expected. “I don’t… yet… know what that sounds like.”

You can feel the shiver roll through your body, trembling against the hug Marco has you in. A shivering sigh, part moan part whimper, escapes between your teeth as you tilt your head up, letting the involuntary sound out right by his ear.

“That… is not nearly enough, yoi.” His voice sinks into your skin. “I want to hear more.”

Please.

“Say it.”

“Marco.” You sigh his name and as far as he’s concerned there’s nothing else in existence.

He lifts you up easily, one arms under your thighs as he almost puts you over his shoulder when he stands up. You yelp in surprise and laugh as you hear him clear supplies off the desk behind you before he sits you on the desk. His hands are on either side of your thighs, and he’s bent down enough to be face to face with you.

“Kiss me,” he commands and you lean forward, closing the small gap between you both, brushing your lips against his. Dry and warm, you lick your lips and close your eyes, leaning in again and slipping a hand around his shoulder, tugging him closer as his hands leave the desk to grip your hips.

You moan sweetly as the kisses deepen, letting the satisfied sound rattle against your ribs. His hands shift up your sides, pulling your shirt up as they move further and further up. When you raise your arms up over your head he grabs the gathered clothing and pulls it up and off, tossing it aside before putting his hands on your skin.

You lean back against the sensation, biting your lower lip and moaning.

Marco’s kisses trail down your neck and over your collarbone, his fingers undoing the hooks of your bra with unexpected struggle.

“Need a hand?”

“Nope,” he says as he finally gets the troublesome hook to let go.

He pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside, his lips barely leaving your skin. You slip the straps of your bra down, leaning back against the hand against your back, helping to steady you as he bends lower, raining kisses on your stomach as he gives you room to toss the bra aside. Your fingers dance along the back of his head as he works his kisses back up your stomach toward your breasts.

“Lean back, yoi.” He murmurs, guiding you to lay back against the desk. Your legs curl around his waist as his hands move over you. A heavy lick against your nipple pulls a sweet sound from your lips. He presses a finger against your tongue, letting you roll the muscle against the pad of his finger. His other hand teases the other breast as his mouth works against your flesh.

Moaning against his finger your mind fills with thoughts on how good it feels. How he could do this forever if he wanted. How it feels so much better than you had imagined.

“Ruthless.” He mutters against your skin, sucking the stiff nipple a little roughly as his fingers pinch the other, sending jolts of pleasure into your chest like lightning. You cry euphorically against his finger, body tensing from the delicious sensations.

“More, please, Marco, more.” You gasp as he teases you. “It feels… so good, ahhhnmmm ♥”

He straightens up a little too fast, his hips hitting against the desk roughly. You can feel his stiff cock against your thigh through the layers of clothing.

“Don’t rush, yoi.” He teases, bringing your legs together and tugging your pants over your hips and up your legs.

“He says as he pulls my pants off.” You tease, letting your bare legs fall back open on either side of his waist.

He sticks his tongue out at you, and it keeps going, long and tapered, wiggling at you as he kneels down in front of the desk.

“Oh gods,” holy shit. “Oh wait,” that’s going to feel amazing. “Marco, wait, that’s gonna be-.”

He pauses, gaze locked on yours. The look on his face makes the blood rush through you. He can hear your thoughts, and your words are at odds you know, but you don’t know what to think.

He watches you, and slowly sticks his tongue back out, pressing it right against the hood of your clit. His gaze stays on you as the tongue shifts, flicking and teasing your clit and sending delicious chills through you.

Oh I’m going to cum screaming.

“That’s the plan, yoi.” He says, taking his eyes off yours and leaning down, mouth wide as his hands spread your labia apart and give him better access.

“Fuck.” You husk the word as his lips and tongue sink into you. Your hands are against his head, torn between wanting to push him deeper and wanting to pull him off. The pleasure of his lips against yours, the twist and push of his devious tongue, the skill and motivation of his own desires left you to do little more than hold on for dear life.

Swears dribbled past your lips, broken and half-spoken between gasps and whimpers as your thoughts melted into less coherent concepts.

There, there, oh fuck!

Marco had no qualms about using your thoughts against you and assailed you with a mix of his own skill, and you’re involuntary instruction.

The first time you came against his tongue the pleasure had coiled your muscles too much for you to cry out. Your breath was frozen in your lungs as taut muscles curled your entire body for a few long seconds.

You were finally able to breathe out, a shivering whimpering sound before you breathed in deep body trembling from the pleasure as he continued to eat you out. He gave your insides a break, suckling on your clit and flicking his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves.

“Wait, wait, please, Marco I’m gonna - gonna - HNNNGGGGH-.” Your body tenses again and you manage to pull in a breath between shivering teeth before finally crying out in pleasure.

He’s ruthless, continuing to focus on your clit as he pushes a finger in your trembling cunt.

“FUCK!” All you can think is that you’ve never cum so hard before, and never so many times in quick succession. It’s building again, and you can’t stop it, and you don’t want to stop it. He’s going to make you black out before he’s even inside you but it feels so good.

He pushes in deep enough to find the reaction he’s looking for, curling his finger inside you. Your hands slam onto the desk as your hips buck. You’re trying to move away from the pleasure, half of you wanting it, half of you worried you’ll lose control.

“Please, please, please,” you whimper the words, unsure if you’re begging for him to stop or continue. He pulls his finger out when you’re close, but you don’t have time to calm down as his tongue coils inside you again, beating against the same sweet spot his finger had found. One hand’s splayed out on your stomach, holding you as still as he can. The thumb of his other hand is teasing your clit.

“Marco! MARCO!” His eyes shift up, catching your gaze for a split second before you cum against his tongue again. You fill the room with a euphoric sound before collapsing against the desk. Heavy panting breaths move your chest up and down, but you don’t have the energy to try and raise your head to look at him right now.

He slowly pulls his tongue out, reveling in the sweet little mewls that escape you due to the over stimulation. He hadn’t meant to bring you to orgasm three times in a row. You were delicious, and sensitive, and the cheat of being able to hear your thoughts made it impossible to deny your desires.

You might just be his favorite meal.

Sweat slicked your body, cooling you in the comfortable room. Marco wipes his lips with the back of his hand before he moves over you, placing soft kisses against your stomach, making a lazy trail up your torso as you catch your breath. He’s careful not to kiss you anywhere too sensitive, and he uses his normal tongue when he licks your lips, before kissing them softly.

“You sound,” he begins, kissing against the line of your jaw as you turn your head for him. “Even better,” the lick against your neck makes you gasp quietly, moaning as he nips at the shell of your ear. “Than I imagined.”

His hand is hot against your leg, and he lifts it slowly, putting your ankle on his shoulder. He kisses your ankle before pressing against you. You can feel his cock, thick and twitching, hot and heavy along your thigh.

“How are you holding up, pretty bird?”

Tired.

“I’m good.”

“Tired?”

You nod. “Yeah, but not exhausted.”

“I’ll be gentle, yoi.” He promises, kissing you before he brings your other leg up to his shoulder.

“F-fuck me rough later?” You question, looking away from him in embarrassment. You wanted to say your thought instead of just thinking it.

“Look at me, yoi.” He commands and you manage it even if the heat in your face is making you a little dizzy. “Whenever,” He begins and you can feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. “And however you want.”

Marco presses in slowly, holding your gaze with his, drinking in every detail of the expression on your face as he pushes slowly into you. You’re so wet from everything else there’s no real pain, just a soft sweet ache as you stretch ever so gently to accommodate him.

He’s filling you up far deeper than anyone or anything had ever done so before, and you can feel tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. It’s not just how good it feels, it’s because it’s him. A shift of his hips is enough and you can feel him flush against you.

“All in,” he sighs, rolling his hips and shifting inside you. “You,” he gasps softly as you twitch against him. “Are perfect, pretty bird.”

That’s too much. “Don’t s-say that,” you whimper the words, covering your face with your hands.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions rhetorically, pulling back slowly until it’s just his tip inside you, before pushing back in just as slow. You nod from behind your hands and Marco reaches out, pulling them away from your face.

“Let me see you, yoi.” He requests, pulling out and pushing back in the same slow and deliberate pace as before. “Let me hear you, pretty bird.”

“Marco, please,” you sigh, his long slow exacting movements are already driving you insane.

“The sun hasn’t set yet,” he muses, devious grin on his lips as he continues. As he leans back against you again he continues to press, leaning down over you until he’s stretched your legs back, bringing your knees nearly to your chest. “But I bet I can do this until the sun comes up, yoi.”

“Suh-someone will come in,” you moan as he pushes in again, grinding against your clit a little in the new position.

Marco grins, eyes bright with his flames. “Half the ship heard you screaming my name earlier.” He says, as your mind stutters.

“No one would dare to bother us right now.” The long slow motion is beginning to pick up pace, slowing only when his hips press against you. He takes a second to tease your clit before continuing.

“Oh gods, oh gods,” you gasp, caught between the slow build of pleasure and the mortifying realization that the ship heard you screaming your commander’s name in such a lust-filled way.

“Just think about me, yoi.” Marco asserts, catching your gaze with his as he thrusts into you heavier than before. “Feels good.”

You nod. “It feels,” your hands are on his arms as he pushes in deep, nails digging into his skin. “Amazing!”

“Don’t worry about anything else, pretty bird.” He huffs, picking the up the pace and sending ripples into your body with the deep thrusts. “Everyone can know you’re mine, yoi.”

He pushes in fast, pushing the air from your lungs and grinding heavy against your clit as he leans down and kisses you. Your legs ache a little from the stretch, but he lets up before it hurts.

“I’m yours too, yoi.” He assures you, adjusting a little until you’re crying out every time he bullies the sweet spot inside you. “You scream my name,” he huffs, desperately trying to hold out a little longer. “Because I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you gasp, nodding as the pleasure is already coiling around you. “Mine, hnnngh, yuh-you’re mine.” Your breath is coming out hot and needy, fingers desperate to hold onto him as the pleasure builds. “Please, fuck, Marco, it feels so good. I can’t, I can’t.” It’s too much I’m going to scream again.

“Don’t hold back,” his voice is more growl than anything else. “Sing for me. Just me.”

Marco slams you into your orgasm, using every trick he knows, and guided by your jumbled and desperate thoughts. His lips capture yours, devouring the melodic cry, and swallowing the euphoric sound with his lungs. This particular song was only for him.

Someday, one day, he’d let you sing with all your might. Maybe in a cabin, set just a little ways away from the rest of a small village, where no one else but the morning birds would dare to listen.

[mishasminion360]

How Do You Do It?

Jack Daniels x fem!reader

Warnings: Mild language; words said in anger; stress-induced anxiety; mild angst; self-doubt; but lots of fluff, I swear.

Summary: Being a new mother and a homemaker are two difficult jobs to juggle at the same time, and even more of a challenge when your husband is constantly away. When Jack returns from his latest assignment to find you overtaxed and irritable, he decides to make it up to you by spending a day in your shoes.

A/N: What a busy summer/early fall. So much has changed in such a short time. Change is weird sometimes and brings a lot of stress. Had my first-ever panic attack. Zero stars; do not recommend. But even the stressful, scary parts of our lives can be inspiring. This fic is proof of that 😝

P.S. As you can see I began this fic in the fall of 2023 and look how late I’m posting it! I’m sorry for the long hiatus, folks, but believe me when I say it was necessary.

How is it that your husband is the secret agent, but the weight of the world always feels like it’s been thrust upon your shoulders?

The day you found out you were expecting was one of the happiest of your life. You and Jack had been over the moon and spent the entire adventure of pregnancy fantasizing about all the joys of parenthood that would arrive along with your bundle of joy. You weren’t kidding yourselves; you knew that a baby brought big changes and more than a few challenges. You just weren’t aware of just how high those hurdles would be until you were thrown into the race.

The roles of wife, homemaker, and now mother all seem to merge into one monstrous, never-ending task; and your duties seemed all the more daunting when you were left to fulfill them alone.

Jack is nothing short of attentive and dedicated when he’s at home. The problem is that “home” is usually the last place one will find him. As of late, his job with the Statesmen pulls and pushes him this way and that into parts unknown where he’s embroiled in espionage for some indeterminate period, leaving you with a house to maintain, meals to prepare, clothes to launder, and a colicky infant to soothe.

You’re trapped inside a pressure cooker and the temperature is nearing critical.

***

“Baby Shark” is on its 25th iteration, every “doo doo doo” is like a bat to the back of your head. You dance topless in the living room with your wailing son clutched to your naked chest. You’d tossed your t-shirt into the wash twenty minutes ago, covered—like the two before it—in your baby boy’s milky vomit.

Your sanity is a mere thread, frayed, delicate, and seconds away from completely unraveling. Your head is pounding and back aching, and you’re trying to convince yourself that the flush of heat you feel just beneath your skin is not a fever. You can’t afford to be sick now. Not when you are all your son has; when you are all you have.

“Daddy’s home, darlin’!”

The sound of his voice, the familiar clip-clop of his boots on the hardwood floor, should fill you with after hardly having heard it for a solid week. Instead, it has your already tepid body simmering with frustration.

“Hey there, Mama Mare.” The affectionate term oozes from between his grinning lips with all the smooth, sweet ease of honey. “Give this ol’ cowboy some sugar. He missed you.”

His lips are on yours and then detaching themselves before your mouth can even register it’d just been in contact with another; far quicker and more careless than the long overdue reunion kiss you’d been anticipating. The brief little smooch held about as much passion as a handshake.

“There’s my little cowpoke!”

Jack lifts his squalling son from your arms and little John’s cries instantly cease. Of course they do. Of freaking course.

“Well, now, you didn’t have to get all dressed up on my account, honeybee.”

You snap to attention after possibly having fallen asleep on your feet for a split second to see that Jack’s devilish gaze has zeroed in on your bared tits.

“You certainly know how to welcome a fella home.”

While he’s busy ogling your non-seductive nudity, your own eyes have locked onto the trail of muddy prints stretching from the front door, each filthy footfall a perfect imprint of the sole of Jack’s boots. Yet another mess you’ll have to clean up; another chore added to the already heavy burden you’re shouldering.

“How’s about after dinner we mosey on upstairs, put this little buckaroo to bed, then I show you just how much I missed you?”

You don’t even know how to respond to him right now, so you don’t. You simply turn your back and walk away, seething in a silent rage as you stomp your way upstairs to put on the thickest, ugliest sweatshirt you can find that leaves everything up to the imagination.

John starts to wail once again, but that’s Jack’s problem now. You have about a million other tasks to accomplish—make that a million and one, thanks to his filthy freaking boots.

You slip into the master bath and toss back a couple of Advil for your pounding headache and by the time you re-emerge, Jack is pacing around your bed, hands on his hips and a pensive scowl on his face.

You take a deep breath through your nose and the words tumble from your lips in a sigh. “I haven’t started dinner yet. Give me just a few minutes and I can—“

“Did I say somethin’ wrong?” he blurts. “‘Cause you gave me a look back there that reminded me of an angry steer about to trample a rodeo clown.”

“Just forget it,” you mutter, brushing past him toward the door. His hand wraps around your wrist before you can cross the threshold.

“I ain’t forgettin’ nothin’,” he drawls as he turns you to face him. “Sugar, what’s wrong? No use lyin’ because I can tell somethin’s stuck in your craw.”

Oh, it’s stuck alright. Like a bug in a windshield.

“Jesus, Jack,” you sigh. “Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had a total of five non-consecutive hours of sleep this week. Or it could be the fact that the house is a mess or that I’m down to my last pair of clean underwear. All the chores have been put on hold so I could tend to our son while you’ve been off playing ‘secret agent man’ in God only knows where.”

His mustache twitches and his jaw ticks.

“Honeybee, why didn’t you tell me you’ve been strugglin’? I would have—“

“Because I shouldn’t have to tell you!” you snap. “You should know me well enough by now to tell when I’m not okay! You should already have some inkling of how hard it is to raise a child and that the process usually goes much smoother when both parents are involved. But I guess I’m just a fool for assuming. Getting shot at is far less hazardous to your health than changing a dirty diaper after all.”

When the red finally clears from your vision you see that Jack’s has become clouded with a look you’d only bore witness to once and concluded that you never wanted to see again. His mirthful brown eyes dulled by a deeply rooted pain planted long ago by a cruel twist of fate. He’d been robbed of his first chance to be a husband and father and you’d just accused him of squandering his second.

“Sugar, I’m….I’m sorry.”

Shit. It’s not fair. You have been miserable for an entire week and you can’t stand to see him miserable for even a millisecond.

“No, I’m sorry,” you insist, voice and legs quivering. You lower yourself to the bed before exhaustion and gravity get the better of you. “I’m just so tired. Tired and frustrated.”

He drops to the bed beside you and pulls you into one of his signature hugs you’ve missed so much. The tightest of embraces that only he can give.

“I know you’re working hard to provide for our family,” you sob. “I know that but still I….I feel so alone, Jack.”

Before even a single southern-drenched syllable can leave his mouth, a sharp wail blasts from the baby monitor and your body reacts instinctively and urgently. You shoot up and out of Jack’s arms like a rocket.

“Let me check on him and then I’ll start dinner,” you say with a sniffle.

“I’ll get him, darlin’,” Jack insists, gently grasping you by the wrist and halting your minimal progress toward the door.

“But he probably needs—“

“I will get him.”

His hands are on your shoulders now—firm yet gentle—and grounding, comforting.

“Please, let me take care of my boy so you can take care of you, honeybee. And then, later, I’d like to take care of you, too. If you’ll let me.”

You can only muster a nod before he’s striding out of the room. Taking advantage of the first minute you’ve had to yourself in a week, you slip into the shower and let the warm spray unclench every muscle coiled tight with stress.

By the time you emerge, John is sleeping peacefully and a pizza’s been ordered. Jack dotes on you the entire evening, giving your aching feet a rub down with his skillful hands and cuddling you close as you both zone out to some ridiculous reality TV. His mere presence is a balm to your weary soul.

Whenever the baby cries in the middle of the night and your body moves on instinct Jack stills you, urges you back to the mattress, and takes on the challenge himself. It’s the best night’s sleep you’ve had in you can’t remember how long.

***

And surprisingly enough, you don’t manage to sleep any later than 9 a.m. The smell of extra greasy bacon lures you from bed, a siren’s call to your stomach.

John bounces in his high chair, babbling around a mouthful of mashed banana, most of which appears to have ended up on his face, shirt, and chubby little fists. Jack is an even more astonishing sight than your messy son, strutting about the kitchen in your frilly apron topping his off-white Henley and faded Wranglers.

“Well, good mornin’, sugar,” he cries, grabbing your hips to tug you in for a kiss. “Though I wasn’t expectin’ to see you up so soon.”

“How did you expect me to stay asleep when something smells incredible?”

“That would be my famous chocolate chip, peanut butter, and banana flapjacks.”

In true Southern gentlemanly fashion, he pulls out a chair and eases you into it before setting a towering stack of syrup-soaked pancakes before you, coffee and bacon following suit.

“Better eat quick now, darlin’,” Jack urges as he takes a seat with his plate. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”

As if you could forget. That laundry is begging for attention, the house hasn’t had a good dusting in you can’t recall how long, and Johnny already needs a bath—

“I made you an appointment for noon.”

Your train of thought instantly stalls on the tracks.

“Appointment?”

Jack grins over the brim of his steaming mug.

“Honey, you need a break. Figured you might enjoy yourself a little spa day.”

You can hardly believe your ears.

“Spa day?”

“Yes, ma’am. Massage, mud baths, whatever the heck they do with seaweed, the whole nine yards,” he explains proudly. “I even called up your buddy from work and asked if she’d like to join you. And it’s all on me.”

“But Jack, what about John? And the house, the laundry, the cooking?”

“Gimme some credit, sugar,” he chuckles. “I think I can keep the homestead standin’ and our baby boy breathin’ for a day. Besides, it’s high time I start puttin’ in my fair share of help around here, isn’t it?”

You’re not sure if you want to thank him or burst into tears. Maybe both.

“You do so much, honeybee,” he says warmly, voice as smooth, rich, and sweet as the syrup sluiced atop your pancakes. “You move mountains every day to make this house a home. How’s about lettin’ someone do somethin’ for you for a change?”

You scarf down the rest of your pancakes before kissing him with sticky lips and racing up the stairs to get ready for your big day out.

***

You feel rejuvenated and refreshed. Brand fucking new. A far cry from the husk of a woman who’d left the house this morning. Wrapped in seaweed and slathered with mud you’d been returned to the earth and reborn at full strength, like a phoenix risen from the ash.

You'd been reunited with an inner strength and power you'd all but forgotten. And thank God for that, because you're going to need every bit of it to face the chaos you come walking back into upon your return home.

You can hear John’s piercing wails before you’ve cut the engine and opened the driver’s side door. You can smell the smoke before you've even reached the front steps.

Inside all hell has broken loose. Gray tendrils of smoke slither through the air, teasing the detector into screaming its warning. Your baby boy is giving it some stiff competition with his own cries as Jack struggles to bounce him on one arm while he tries to fan away the smoke with the other. Both gestures prove futile.

“It’s okay, buckeroo. You’re okay. Don’t cry. Please, please don’t cry.”

Jack looks so frazzled. The situation is far from funny so the last thing you should do is laugh at his expense. But dammit if you don’t anyway.

“Do you need some help there, cowboy?”

His frantic eyes find you through the haze and pierce you with a desperate, wordless plea. You take the inconsolable infant from your husband’s arm and soothe him into silence as Jack does the same to the smoke alarm.

“There now, Johnny. See? Everything’s okay. Daddy made the bad sound stop.”

“He just stopped cryin’ for you. Just like that.”

Something in his eyes burns. Something in his voice cracks.

“I couldn't bring him any kind of comfort. He didn't….want nothin’ to do with me.”

Your weary cowpoke sags into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and buries his face in his hands with an exasperated sigh.

“You were right, darlin’. I'm useless.”

You settle John into his high chair with a teething ring to distract him before turning your attention to your distressed husband.

“To be fair, I never said you were useless.”

“You may as well have,” he sighs. “And if you weren’t thinkin’ it before you’ll be thinkin’ it now.”

You smirk. “Rough day?”

“Oh darlin’, you don’t even know the half of it.”

He begins to recount the day’s challenges, his voice raising in pitch as goes from describing one hurdle to the next. He almost seems on the verge of tears.

“And I got so distracted while tryin’ to get our fussy boy to eat his dinner that I failed to hear the timer and let ours burn. Hence the fiasco you came home to. And when John started bellowing for his supper I was in the middle of the laundry and I forgot to separate the colorful items from the rest, so my new red jockeys turned our bathroom towels pink and….and I just failed so miserably today, sugar. I’m so sorry.”

You laugh, unable to help it. It’s all you can do at this point. “Welcome to my world, sweetheart.”

“How on Earth do you do it, sugar?”

If you’re being honest, you ask yourself that question at least once a day, and not always with the same emotional connotation behind it.

“There’s just something inside of me that encourages me to power through the difficulties. A force, a reminder.”

“An iron will for damn sure,” he scoffs.

“No, that’s not it,” you chuckle. “It’s love, Jack. For you and our boy. That’s what keeps me going.”

He looks at your have cradling his own, a gesture of both dominance and comfort. In this moment he believes that he is made of inferiority.

“I love you both to the moon and back, yet I can’t even do a load of laundry.”

“Jack you do enough. I have not, do not, and never will doubt your love for me and John,” you reassure him. “Acts of service just happen to be my particular love language, not yours.”

“Then what is mine?”

You lift his hands and kiss both sets of his knuckles. “Words of affirmation.”

His acts of service are for the world, but his words are just for you.

“But ain’t actions supposed to speak louder?”

“For others, maybe,” you shrug. “But that’s only because no one else speaks as loudly as you.”

@grimeylady @rav3n-pascal22 @mamacitapascal @insomniamama1 @pedrosbisch @emmaispunk @lv7867 @reonlouw @hawaiianmelodies @heythere-mel @healingstardust @delorena @pedropasxal @caesaryoulater @fangirling-alert @fromthedeskoftheraven @axshadows @dragon-scales88 @spacepastel-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @hauntedmama @mswarriorbabe80 @horton-hears-a-honk @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @a-trial-run-on-paper @oonajaeadira @dhadiirah @felicisimor @practicalghost @luz-introvertida @amneris21 @hb8301 @tanzthompson @littlemisspascal @dobbyjen @supernaturalgirl20 @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @trickstersp8 @neganwifey25-blog @twistedboxy @emiemiemiii @energeticspookyshark @thevoiceinyourheadx @pedr0swh0r3 @anamiad00msday @secretwriterpp @wannab-urs @pedrostories

[konigenblobbity]

It Wasn’t my Fault… [Part 1]

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, cheating, arguing, cussing

—> [Part 2]

Summary: You’ve been with Javier for 3 years. And after a particularly successful mission you decide to surprise him by visiting the bar where they all went after work. The sight that awaited you as you got there wasn’t your boyfriend with open arms… It was him sitting at the bar with another woman, his lips pressed against her neck while his hands slide up her thighs. You felt your whole reality collapse…

“You really expect me to believe that?!” You were beyond livid at this point. You stand across from Javier, the man who you’d trusted more than anyone in the world. A man who’d stolen your heart effortlessly, who’d you spend countless nights thanking the universe for. But now, you didn’t even recognize him.

You had both your hands gripping the kitchen counter behind you. Trying to find some sort of purchase to keep from collapsing. You have to appear as composed as possible… because in a single moment you might give in and break down. And you know in that state you wouldn’t have the strength to push him away.

“Hermosa… just listen, I swear it wasn’t what it looked like” he spoke softly. As if he might scare you away if he spoke to loud. You were glaring at him, your eyes burning into his own desperate ones. Matching the desperate tone of his voice as he spoke… you’d never heard him sound so vulnerable. And that only enraged you more.

“Please. I think I saw enough, it’s not exactly something you can just explain away”

You and Javier had been dating for 3 years. Having met him during one of his cases. You happened to be a witness which they were interviewing. Javier admiring your body the whole time, and you couldn’t help but do the same. To keep it short… Javier ended up doing more than interviewing you.

You both thought it’d be a one time thing, but slowly as the weeks passed you couldn’t help but fantasize about him. Little did you know, he was doing the same, spending many restless nights thinking about you. The two of you ended up reuniting by chance a week or so later. Javier took that as his opportunity to ask you out on a date, which you happily accepted.

Since then, the relationship between you two blossomed. It was built on trust, love, and the idea that time is short, especially in his line of work, so you’d both enjoy that time together. He’d come over most days after work, just wanting to be close to you.

Today Javier and his team had finished a big case. So, being the thoughtful girlfriend you are, you wanted to surprise Javier tonight by heading to the local pub him and the others were celebrating. You arrived roughly 30 minutes after everyone else, wearing a black cocktail dress that Javier had threatened to tear to shreds multiple times.

When you walked in, you were immediately welcomed and greeted by a few agents, many of them recognizing you from when you would visit Javier at work. After greeting them, and exchanging a few hugs you went further into the crowd, searching for one man, the star of the night; your boyfriend, Javier Peña.

You smiled when you spotted his figure at the bar, immediately recognizing his shirt which you’d stolen many times, and his trousers which you’d always thought were a bit tight on him. However, your smile dropped in an instant when you finally got a good view of his face, well… that would be if it wasn’t stuffed in the neck of another woman.

His hands were on her thighs, softly caressing them as they slid under the thin fabric of her dress, making her giggle. What really made your stomach drop… was how he smirked against her skin when she did. Her neck littered with a few red marks. You could feel your whole reality collapse… none of it felt real. As if the sight before you was a dream or some kind of mirage.

Your entire body tensed and you couldn’t help the way your eyes welled up. Unable to look away, you stand there, frozen, helpless, beginning to fidget with the ring comfortably sat on the pointer finger of your right hand. He had given it to you two weeks ago… for your anniversary. Engraved in the inner band were the words “Mrs Peña”.

“A promise to you Princessa… that one day. I will give you my name. And with it, my entire heart, soul, and being” Those were the words he’d told you as he slid it onto your finger. Never had a man made you sob like you did that day… well. That was until right now.

You finally had enough and walked over to him and his mystery woman, slamming the ring down on the counter next to them. “You can keep your name you asshole” you words laced with venom, not wasting another glance as you marched out of the bar as composed as you could manage.

From behind you, you heard soft cursing and then the loud thud of a chair hitting the ground. You began walking faster, feeling your blood boil as you heard the woman yell after him.

Although he tried to grab you as you walked away, you always kept your distance, just focusing on getting home. Of course he was following you, calling out to you in order to grab your attention, trying to get you to listen. He was pleading for you to “Just look at me…” But you ignored every word.

Once you got home you threw your bag onto the couch and approached the kitchen counter, placing both your hands on the edge, facing away from him. You heard Javier’s footsteps walk into the apartment after you, the door shutting behind him before he spoke up again. “Hermosa please just look at me… I can explain everything”

You finally gain the courage to turn around and look at him. Still leaning on the counter behind you using your hands, gripping the edge tightly, desperately looking for stability. You stayed silent as you both took in the sight of the other. Javier’s face dropped, guilt visible in his expression, his brows were furrowed as he saw the betrayal painted on your features. The tears you were desperately holding back threatening to break away.

When you finally looked at him, you only got more irritated. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, a smudge of red lipstick on it, his shirt slightly untucked from his pants… it all added fuel to an already raging fire within you.

“Come on then Javier. Explain” your voice was stern, you were trying to stay as level headed as possible, but the waiver in your voice showed just how unstable you were right now. As if you would explode at any moment.

“It wasn’t my fault, I was ju-“ he goes to say and you let out an exasperated scoff. “You really expect me to believe that?!” You were beyond livid at this point. You stood up straight and pointed at him; still frozen by the entrance of the apartment.

He raised his hands as if surrendering to you. “Hermosa… just listen, I swear it wasn’t what it looked like” he spoke softly. As if he might scare you away if he spoke to loud. You brought a hand up to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as your eyebrows furrowed.

“Please. I think I saw enough, it’s not exactly something you can just explain away” you hear him start to step closer to you, causing you to look back up again. “no Princessa please, I ca-“. He reached towards you and tried to place his hands on your arms, you immediately shoved his hands away.

He paused for a second before dropping his arms to his sides, clearly now trying to hold back his own tears. He clenched his fists, his breathing growing shaky. “I would never cheat on you” he says simply and you immediately snap back “then what would you have called that? Hm? That you were just smelling her perfume? Just wanted to see what fabric her dress was made of?”

He was silent for a moment. Unable to think of an answer which both justified him and would satisfy you. “I-I… Hermosa it wasn’t like that… it wasn’t my fault!” He continues to plead to you. Hoping you’d understand. But how could you… everything he said did nothing to explain why he had his lips pressed against another woman’s neck.

“Bullshit Javier! You’re such a fucking liar! You can’t even own up to what you did! You haven’t even apologized yet!” You were yelling now… letting loose at this moment, berating and scolding him. Your tone did nothing to calm his growing worry… the worry of losing you. Of having messed up so badly that you’d finally decide to leave him.

“I know! You’re right! Look i’m sorry! Hermosa I’m-“ he tries to calm you, reaching his hands forward again and placing them on your arms. This time you don’t push them away. He took this as a good sign but it was just you trying to organize your racing thoughts. “Don’t call me that” You left no room for argument, your words like a dagger to his heart.

“No… Hermosa please don’t -“ you interrupted him again. “Don’t. Call me that Peña.” the way you spoke sent fear through him. He could feel you moving away, not only physically, but emotionally. He could tell how you were slowly letting your image of him slip, that image of him as your loving boyfriend.

“Wait… no please. I’m sorry. God I’m so so sorry” he begins to ramble, slowly dropping down to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding down to your waist where he wraps his arms around you tightly. Digging his face into your stomach as he began to sob. “Please. Princessa… I love you” his voice sounded broken. You looked down at his trembling figure.

You felt your heart cry out, wanting so badly to kneel down and hold him close. Tell him it’s okay. That you still love him. Because of course you did. You loved him more than anything in the world, but you no longer trusted him.

“I think I should leave. Go stay with a friend for a bit” you spoke softly, but still sounded completely unwavering in your words. He began to shake his head into your stomach. “No please… stay…” he began to plead and beg again, completely desperate now.

“I��ll make it up to you, I swear, I’m sorry. Im so goddamn sorry. Don’t leave me…” he continues to ramble and you move your hands to his arms wrapped around you. You try to pry them off of you but he won’t let go… his grip only tightens around you. “Peña. Let go” you hoped he would just listen, and not make this harder for the both of you.

But he doesn’t budge… only shakes his head. “No… no I won’t. Because if I do, it might be the last time I ever get to hold you” his voice was broken, tears now staining your shirt. You felt one of his arms move from around your waist, watching as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring that you slammed on the counter back at the pub.

“Please. I made a promise Princessa…” he says pulling away his other arm and instead grabbed your right hand. He then hovers the ring over the tip of your index finger. His hands were shaking, in fact… his whole body was shaking. You reach your left hand up, using it to slowly push away his hand holding the ring. “It’s too late. You already broke it. I need space Peña”

Once those words reached his ears he began sobbing again. He let go of your hand and his arms went limp at his sides. “No…” was the only thing he could manage to say. His head still leaning against you, it takes every part of yourself to step back, walking away from his kneeling form.

His head dropped down, eyes clenched shut as more tears fall down his face. You silently headed to the couch, grabbing your bag. “Don’t text me or call me. Just give me space” you spoke softly before your voice was broken with shaky breath and a soft cry.

You open the door of your shared apartment and turn your head one last time, Javier hasn’t moved an inch. Still kneeling on the ground holding the ring. “Goodbye Peña” you say as you leave, shutting the door behind you. You can still hear his broken cries through the door as you walk off, vision blurry with your burning tears.

“Please Hermosa… I can’t lose you. You’re my everything… how can I give space to the one thing that keeps me going”

[em1e]

宗谷 // PUPPY LOVE ⠀ ༝ ༝ souya kawata [ angry ] ⠀༝ ༝ 900 words ⠀ ⚠︎ fluff ! ⠀ — souya is is like a dad - says he doesn't want a pet but babies it once it's home.

souya kawata was rarely a man of few words. 

usually, he has something to say, a quick quip always on his tongue ingrained into him from being constantly argumentative with nahoya the entirety of his life. but, as he stares at you, the bag of to-go ramen from his shop hanging loosely from his fingers, he can’t help but only stare in shock. 

here, in your shared apartment, you sat on the floor with a baby gate surrounding you. in that baby gate was . . . a puppy. small terrier, he thinks, based on what he can see. 

you perk up at the sound of him setting the bags on the counter, whispering something to the dog, who only yaps in response, following at your heel as you stand and step over the gate. 

“hi baby.” you smile, wrapping an arm around his waist and standing on your toes, “how was work?” 

“good.” he greets you with a kiss your forehead, soft in your presence, before his brows furrow and he nods his head to the elephant in the room, “puppy sitting for a friend?” 

“hm?” you pretend to be oblivious, head tilting as you turn to follow his gaze, “oh, no.” and still, despite him clearly bringing it up, you don’t clarify what the baby gate is doing there, why there’s a puppy barking from inside it as it tries to crawl out of the gate, or why there are various unopened toys, food, and puppy pads sitting on the counter beside where he’s just put the food down, “what’s for dinner?” you ask, moving past him to take the ramen out. 

“ramen,” he moves towards the gate, towering over the puppy who seems to just want to run free in the apartment, “who’s dog is this then?” 

“ours.” you answer easily, grabbing two bowls from the cabinets and chopsticks for the two of you. 

“ours?” he parrots, turning on his heel to watch you casually make you both plates, “that’s something we should talk about, isn’t it?” 

“we did.” you remind him, bringing the bowls to the table and gesturing for him to come sit, “last week, after we broke in the new bed-” 

“it was a hypothetical, us getting a dog.” his frown twitches to a scowl. of course you’d use him in such a vulnerable state for your own agenda, “we still should’ve gone together. what if i don’t like rat dogs.” despite his annoyance, he sits across from you and mumbles a quick thank you for this meal. 

“but you do,” you continue where he stopped, picking up some noodles and blowing on them, “her name is sugaoku, after the shop.” you smile, and god he really wants to be upset with you but you just look so cute. 

his eyes flit behind you, to the puppy who has mysteriously gone quiet, “yeah, well sugaoku is peeing on the floor,” he nods his head towards the gate, and you drop the chopsticks to whip around as if he could be lying, “and i will not be cleaning it up.” 

you pout, pushing back from the table to open the pack of puppy pads and grab a wad of paper towels while mumbling i knew i forgot something. 

he grins, when you can’t see him, blowing on his own bite of noodles before putting it in his mouth. he couldn’t stay upset with you if he tried. 

and, despite telling you ‘you got the dog, she’s your responsibility’, souya still finds himself taking her out when his alarm goes off. like clockwork, he’d open the door to her crate, hook the leash onto her collar, and take her down the three flights of stairs so she could go potty - a cup of coffee in one hand, leash in the other, while he fantasized about staying in bed with you a little longer. 

it’s really domestic, settling into a new routine of taking care of a plus one, with the work split between the two of you. 

“do you have everything?” it’d be hard for a normal person to pick up on his worry, but you catch it easily with the slight way his brows furrow in, with the way he grips the bag holding all the puppy supplies. you laugh a little. 

“yes, souya, everything is in there. three bottles of water, the portable bowl, snacks, some toys, her collar if the harness gets too hot, and the poop bags. can we go now?” 

he peeks into the bag, scanning over everything despite you already checking it yourself two other times, “okay, yeah. i just want to be sure.” 

“we’re bringing more stuff for her than us.” you point out, taking the leash from his hands to hook it to sugoaku’s harness, “you’re worrying for nothing. s’not like we’re gonna be there all day.” 

he scowls, “i know that, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” he pulls the bag over his shoulder, and souya honestly looks really cute, despite the face he’s making, with the bright bone-print of the backpack contrasting greatly with the rest of his vibe. 

you pinch at his cheek, leaving him to scowl further and swat your hand away, “let’s just go already.”  “aye, aye captain.” you mock salute, picking up sugoaku to make the trip out of the apartment quicker, and souya scoffs at how you seem  to baby her.

for @cu7ie !!

[hanasnx]

Kinktober: House of Amateurs - S1E3

MINORS DNI 18+

SUMMARY: october 3rd | tuesday polys: threesome WC: 0.9k | CHARACTERS: anakin skywalker x f!reader, sanna olies (oc) WARNINGS: f!reader | dom!anakin | pnp | onanism | kinks: daddy, size | attempted: voyeurism | implied: fellatio | shower | polyamory: threesome | three-way kiss | no y/n

KRAYT HOUSE M.LIST | NAVI | INBOX | @KRAYTHOUSE

“We should try to peek on him.” Your co-star— Sanna’s words make your jaw drop. Rushing to her own defense, she interjects you as if you’re about to verbally contradict her. “It’s not like he’d mind!”

“I can’t believe you’d say that!” you scold, but her suggestion eats away at your guard. He might not mind, but he’s unpredictable. Regardless if it’s her idea, you’d be an accomplice.

“Well, maybe I’ll get lucky. I’m going.” she insists, and your mouth remains agape, taking offense in being abandoned. You’re quick to clamber up to follow after her.

“Wait for me!” You chase her, but she increases her pace. Grins of thrill appear on both of your faces, yet it’s unclear who’s mirroring the other.

The sound of the shower running coming into earshot quiets the both of you, hushing each other so as to not raise suspicion. You approach the door, and her hands fix on your shoulders as she leans onto your back. As carefully as you’re allowed, you inch open the door, and the weight increases behind you. Playfully, you shove her back so you can creep inside.

You reach the bathroom counter before his voice cuts you off. “What do you girls think you’re doing?” Frozen where you stand, you glance between the drawn shower curtain and Sanna.

“Nothing,” you reply innocently.

“We’re sorry, we didn’t know you were in here, daddy.” she finally speaks up.

“We thought it was one of the other girls.” you’re hasty to add, as if more story will cover up the shame you both feel for being caught embarrassingly fast. It’d be mortifying to confess that you were brought here on the basis of coercing him into fucking the two of you.

“Who?” One simple question. His tone conveys his lack of actual curiosity, and all the condescension of a man confident in his inference. You scramble for a name, any name. Your silence is answer enough, and you hear him scoff. “Well, since you’re here, come help me with this.” Exchanging a look among yourselves, you border the tub, not before discarding your clothes onto the bathroom floor. It’s a risk you’re willing to take if he didn’t mean to invite the two of you inside.

She goes in first, and you trail after. Hot water accumulated in a thin layer at the bottom greets the soles of your feet pleasantly. Standing herculean and picturesque under the faucet, Anakin’s features come into view. How the stream of water breaks at the back of his neck to flow down his relaxed form, how he guides Sanna into him to steal a greeting kiss from her obedient lips, how his tepid hair is curled from the humidity and the tips are heavy and dripping. Even if he’s content, you notice how his brows pinch together constantly, as if nothing truly pleases him, and he’s always dissatisfied over everything put in front of him. A judgmental countenance you fantasize about reversing. As he meets your gaze, you’re already magnetized to him, giving him a greeting kiss of your own as his strong arm wraps around your torso to express his approval for your initiative.

The warmth of another presence approaches, and he directs her into your side, jamming you together as she joins in the kiss. Three pairs of lips melding together tentatively as the heat of the water transfers between bodies during the close proximity. The two of you wrap your arms up around his neck loosely, overlapping one another. He introduces tongue, a soft graze enough to shift the energy, both his limbs wound around the two of you, arching you two into him. The outline of how he hardens apparent against your lower stomach. There’s a desperation to him, as plain as kissing is, Anakin Skywalker enjoys it as a three-way. He hums, deep in his throat, reverberating you. Tongues sliding against one another is enough to make him stoop to grab a handful of ass from both you and her. As if you read her mind, you both nip his lower lip at the same time, earning a growl.

He dips his head between you, brushing his open-mouthed kisses onto your shoulder, and then hers. “Are you gonna help me with this?” he murmurs, repeating his request from earlier. His hands on each of your asses rocking you both into him, seeking out friction through humping his length onto the squished space of your abdomens. As soon as your hand grasps his hard-on, you brush against hers, and you chuckle in spite of yourself. Holding hands over a man’s erection, how romantic. A sharp exhale of breath leaves him, and you support his weight as he relaxes into your touch. How you move in tandem with each other in order to undulate against the sensitive skin of his cock as him rolling his hips into it, fucking into the space you created together.

Your free hand winds around him, nails digging into the skin of his wide back, and a whine spills from his agape mouth, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

He straightens to his full height, and bites down on his lower lip as he continues to buck into the team-effort handjob, aiding you two in jacking himself off. From the force of his movements and his sheer strength, his hands on you rock your entire bodies along with him, and construct a necessity for counterbalance. It doesn’t take him much longer to force the two of you on your knees to work together to finish the job using only your mouths.

[2ndstar-ontheright]

toxic codpendent boys babyyyy

i love you and it's ruining my life (boyfs)

Summary: After coming home from college for the first time in years, Jeremy's flooded with a ton of mixed emotions. He's tried so hard to put his past behind him, but it all shatters in the blink of an eye.

A/N: UGH codependent relationships are so interesting to explore and write about, dude I'm going insane. (I don't JUST write doomed/toxic yuri, I also do yaoi. I don't discriminate) The negatives of Jeremy and Michael (other than "ugh jeremy's evil and stinky >:(" and "Michael's pining but jeremy's too horrible to see :(") really should be written about more often, IMO. I love these stupid teenagers

Anyway, thank you so much for reading!! Seriously, you're all the best.

Walking home from class, Jeremy’s door is softly pushed shut as he enters the room. His old room. Not much had changed since he left back in August, home again (at the request of his therapist) after spending his other holidays working. It wasn’t his idea, at the expense of his poor father, as he knew his unexplained absence left the man worried. He worried enough about him already, he shouldn’t have to add to that by being back here. All of the mess he was front and center. He’d changed since college, he really did. However, for better or for worse, they didn’t know him there so it was easy for him. Easy to be someone else. Not like he had in high school, yet still someone else nonetheless. 

But it was summer now, and that had to count for something. 

He toes off his shoes, shoulders falling as he breathes in the familiar smell of linen and lavender. Suddenly, his ears perk up at the sound of a car driving by. Creeping up to the window, he looks out and

“He’s still driving that thing?” Jeremy’s eyes widened in shock. It’s been almost 5 years with that thing. You couldn’t even consider it a car anymore. Jesus, with how many times it’s broken down, how is he even alive ? He shakes his head and puts it out of his mind, but for a moment he's interrupted. Almost instantly he recognized that car, but why? It’d been over 2 years since graduation and he never talked about home. So, it couldn’t have been that easy. Then, it dawned on him.

That was Michael.

____________________________________

Later that night, he’s standing in front of his bathroom mirror, trying desperately to put images out of his mind. As he takes off his shirt, his scars and not as much as it used to be but still ungodly pale skin are on full view, like a child’s connect-the-dots page taken a wrong turn. 

The room’s flooding with steam and as he dissociates, he looks up to see sixteen year old him staring back. He’s that teenage boy again. His grim expression as he looks almost ready to drive his fist through the glass, binder in full view. It almost gives him a heart attack at the reminder that this is the same person he was just 3 years ago. He never did end up doing that, but the thought of it just made him shudder at how awful that teenage boy he had been. That stupid, whiny, annoying teenage boy who he could never run away from. 

He ended up not going to Michael’s that night, he was too afraid. (And he also wasn’t home given that he was touring schools that weekend.) He didn’t want to leave the comfort of his bathroom and be perceived by everyone. A loser like him didn’t have the guts, and that’s all he was, right? However, he could fantasize. And so he did. He fell asleep on the cold tile wishing it was his best friend’s bed, the sounds of Link collecting his sword and silent “Shit!”’s of frustration followed by an attempt to be quieter in the background. 

Jeremy blinked quickly, swallowing his breath and stepping into the shower to escape the fading reflection. 

That didn’t help as much as he had hoped though. His mind, as it often did, only resurfaced more as he stood under the water. This was better, he deduced. Now, he didn’t have to see it. To be reminded. He could just think. 

____________________________________

“Michael..?”

Puffing out a cloud of smoke, Michael shifts his eyes from the ceiling to the beanbag next to him. The only light being from the lava lamp in the corner, he squints briefly before he’s able to make out the boy in question. Even in the darkness, he looked…god. 

He looked beautiful. As much as he still had so much turmoil inside him, how he knew they were drifting apart more than he liked but was too afraid to bring it up, he couldn’t deny the aura permeating off of his friend. Unable to look away as he drew him further like a moth to a flame. 

“

Yeah?” He replied, voice raw before coughing a little. 

“I…” Jeremy twitched. He felt like his teeth were about to run out of his mouth, like the back of his head was hinged open, brain fully exposed to the world. His thoughts, his feelings, his pain, all oozing out of each nook and cranny. He couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was being back somewhere so familiar. Regardless, he knew the real reason why he felt like he was losing it. Why he felt like he wanted to throw up and cry at the same time. 

“I fucked up.” He finished, head hung low. 

Michael shifted tiredly in his seat, hand covering his mouth to stifle a yawn. Leaning his head back, his eyes met the side of Jeremy, who instinctively turned to face him. “Whaddyoumean?” He asked, words slurring together slightly.

Jeremy laughs nervously as his lip quivers. Shaking his head, his brow furrows. “I- you know what I mean!” He exclaims and then almost a second later, his hand covers his mouth. Ugh, why’d he have to say that so loud? Thank goodness Michael’s moms weren’t home, but still. Jesus Jeremy, can’t you control yourself for one second? Tears pool behind his eyes, at first cooling to the bloodshot feeling, however stinging just a second after. His palms plunge hard to rub at them and make him look somewhat less pitiful than he already does. Which isn’t much as the croaking in his voice gives it away even more. 

“I fucked up real bad Michael. I know I did.”

Sobering up as best as he can, Michael snaps up and inches closer, a hand gently tugging at Jeremy’s wrist. “Hey, c’mon man, talk to me. What do you mean you ‘fucked up’?” 

His tone calming as always, Jeremy takes a quick breath; cringing internally at his shuddering. He sounded like a kid in trouble about to get sent to his room, but in his own sick way, wasn’t he just that?

“Just..” He sighed. “Everything. All of it. I keep screwing up and with the whole SQUIP thing…I- haven’t truly apologized to you for that. I didn’t even say I’m sorry and I should have!” Jeremy rambled, wringing his hands together before resting them on his knees, sweaty palms tugging at the fabric that was starting to feel like sandpaper. 

He blinked, tears falling shamelessly. Michael was always so sweet to him, and why? He of all people didn’t deserve it. After all that he’s done, the kind, loving, handsome, funny, and so many other flowery words he could use to describe his favorite person didn't treat him the way he ought to be treated. Like a monster. He still treated him like his best friend, and that made the anguish inside tear him apart even more than it had. 

“And I hurt you Michael. I never meant to, but I did and I’m…Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Michael’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected that. Had it really been that long since he’d apologized? Since they’d talked about it? He wanted this, right? He’d been waiting for this for so long, and yet, now he doesn’t know what to think. It’s not that he didn’t think Jeremy meant it, it was just all so sudden and he’d already apologized profusely for everything else already.

But never for how much he had hurt him. 

He knew he did, and Michael knew he was ashamed of himself, but he never said those words out loud. 

How long had he been waiting to hear that? 

How much had they thought, things other than and still similar in their own right, but never said to each other? 

Michael sighed, head tilting to look even closer into Jeremy’s eyes. His hand rested on his shoulder and slowly, he nodded, glasses drooping down to his nose. “I know you are.”

“And I forgive you, Jer. I really do,” 

He offered a somber smile which in turn earned him almost falling to the floor as the other rushed into him. Or rather, fell, seeing as he was stoned out of his mind. 

And even in that foggy haze, Jeremy meant every word he said. Bubbling over like a shaken can of coke he wanted to say so many other things than sorry. He wanted to sing it until everyone in New Jersey heard how much he regretted it. How it was eating at him from the inside. He loved his best friend. He loved him so much. He was the light of his life, the one person he knew really cared about him. And that no matter where they went in life, he would always feel the same towards him. Was it romantic, he couldn’t tell. He just knew that he loved him more than words could describe. 

Was it a little unhealthy? Yeah, it was. But at least he knew it and didn’t let it show. How worse could it have been if he did? 

Voice muffled by the fabric of Michael’s shirt, he pulled away for a moment. Not caring out how desperate he sounded, he sniffled, cleaning his face off as best as he could with his sleeve. 

Jeremy swallowed, cheek resting on Michael’s chest. “I don’t deserve it though. I was such an awful person, and god..” He sighed, shaking his head. “I…I don’t want you to go either. I don’t wanna lose you.”

Michael clicked his tongue and ran a hand down the other’s wrist. Part of him wanted to snap back and agree with him, and it did. He had been a dick, plain and simple. But the rest of him just couldn’t do it. He never could. 

“Shh..hey, listen. I’m not going anywhere, Jeremy. Really, I’m not!” Michael smiled somberly in an attempt to cheer him up. And Jeremy, hung onto it like a dog waiting for his owner. “I know you’re sorry and you feel like shit about it, but I’m not angry about it anymore. What’s done is done. But, I’m still here, aren’t I?” 

Jeremy nodded and returned the gesture, lips curling into a crooked half-smile. As Michael breathed out an unseen sigh of relief, Jeremy inched back towards him. Emotions heightened from what was normally a welcome smoke, he was utterly exhausted. After taking what was way too long to say all that he had kept inside, he drifted into a wobbly sleep. Michael succumbed to a fit of yawns just seconds after, palms resting in the small of the others back as he passed out. 

__________________________________

Cicadas chirped outside his window and as Jeremy tried to fall asleep, that was all he could think about. Every thought that popped into his head pertained to that night, and many others before that. It was all memories. Memories of a better time, a time that passed, and a time that he could never return to. Maybe a time that he never deserved. Taken for granted like it meant nothing more when it truthfully meant the world to him. 

Turning over in bed, he faces the window; streetlights emitting a soft glow through his curtains. God, why can’t he just stop? Why can’t he relax and be normal for once? 

Sighing, he leaned up and propped himself on his shoulders. Reaching over, he pulled his phone onto the bed and unable to sleep already, he figured it couldn’t get that much worse. 

That didn’t last long. The first thing. The very first thing Jeremy saw when he opened his phone, was a throwback picture to a birthday party.

Michael’s, to be exact. 

It was his fourteenth, barely a month after eighth grade began. He pointed behind him, face wide in fake ecstasy at the banner saying “Happy Birthday Mikey!” as if he didn’t know what day it was. He “hadn’t expected anything”, but he knew damn well that wasn’t true. The kid reveled in his birthday. He was one of the few people, if not the only person,  Jeremy knew who genuinely enjoyed it. The memory made him smile. 

For a brief moment, he forgot about everything his mind had been weighing on him before coming down from the high and back to reality. The pain knocked the wind out of him harder than before. Why? Why did it hurt him as much as it did? Why did every time he even so much as thought about Michael he felt like crying? Was it because of the whole SQUIP thing? Was it from being home after so long?

Could it have been that he lost something he so desperately wanted back?

To return to the safety of having him there and they can live in their mutually doomed relationship forever.

Where they get high and everything somehow makes sense.

Where he’s a bigger loser now more than ever and it doesn’t feel like a giant failure. 

Where he feels…happy. And loved. And life feels worth living because someone, at least one other person, cares and has been there for the entirety of all he’s done. When others left, when he figured out who he truly was, when he almost lost himself, Michael was the one that stayed. After all the work he’d done to not return to those feelings or the person he was then, was just tossed out in the blink of an eye as he realizes he’s back right where he started.

Only difference now was, he knew what this was and that he couldn’t keep it up. He was older, and despite him basically regressing somehow, thinking about Michael, his subtle yet immediate swing into the beginning of a depressive episode; he understood that what he was hoping for wasn’t real. 

He couldn’t do that. Not to him.

As much as he missed him, he didn’t want to be the burden he knew he had to be on the other. (Michael never thought he was, but in Jeremy’s own fucked up mind, that’s what he believed.) He can’t deny himself anymore, about what he’s feeling/wanting at this moment anyway. He loved Michael. More than he’d loved…anyone. 

But now as he lies awake in bed, wanting to forget about it all, the thing that calms him down  into an uneasy sleep is going back into the place he regretfully knows best. His head. 

Dreaming he’s fallen asleep in the boy with the red hoodie's arms, like he’s done so many times before, he falls asleep. Finally. Why was he so pathetic? He wasn’t any better than his own father. Trying/chasing after a love that he knew he wouldn’t get. But hey, that was tomorrow Jeremy’s problem when he inevitably woke up. 

Unbeknownst to him, his phone dings from his bedside table. 

From: maybe? Micheal

“Hey.” 

[bitchsister]

i saw a post you made with ariana’s ‘fantasize’ and it reminds me SO much of how you write curt. its how I discovered the song & all I can think about is him. sex worker! curt and lonely rich businessman (or business owner!!) bucky who falls in love with curt and (or) vice versa. maybe bucky just wants someone to spend time with or talk to. doesnt have to be sex ( but would absolutely love if it was . . Obvi )

Oooooh boy oh boy oh boy.

I have so many ideas right now.

Okay. Here we go. 🚀

(If you need a bop refresher)

Also, anon, you’re welcome for the fucking banger from Mrs. SquarePants.

We’ll call this the Pony AU.

You’ll see why in a minute.

Curtis had found his way, against all odds, in a city that could have swallowed him whole if he didn’t find the right people to lean on. He’d chosen his own family, his own destiny, and made his own money the only way he knew how without a diploma or a degree.

Curtis was smart. He knew how to flip tricks just like any other good street boy did — though, after a round or two of some unfavorable clients he stood firmly on his rules.

His clients needed to be handsome, or he simply didn’t want them. They needed to have nice, perfect teeth. No rings on their fingers, (though the best ones always hid them away in their pockets.)

Bonus points came into play for nice aftershave, and if they were still wearing their suits from the office.

John had aced every test, passing with flying colors.

With him, Curtis had won the jackpot.

“Ah, look at you.” Bucky whispered, eyeing Curtis who slipped delicately into a barstool beside him, late as could be, but stunning as ever.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Curt pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed, looking disheveled but trying his hardest to hide it. He’d ran blocks just to get there, the bar of the Plaza Hotel where he and Bucky would meet once, sometimes twice a month — depending on his travel schedule. “I had to make it home for dinner, or mother would have lost it — woulda thought the Pony killer got me, or- or somethin’. Shit, who knows. All she does is worry about us-“

“Hey,” Bucky placed a hand over Curt’s wrist, his brows narrowed. “S’alright, honey. I’d wait until the coroner came.” His tone was light, his skin just as glowy and gorgeous as it always was. He’d been drinking, so it seemed, but Curtis always liked a looser Bucky who didn’t check his watch every minute, counting down the hours until a phone call home was due to send the kids off to bed. “What’s the Pony killer?”

Prostitutes of New York.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Curt turned back to Bucky once he’d greeted the bartender with an ecstatic chirp and his signature nose-scrunching grin.

Hey, Mikey! It’s good to see ya. I’ll have a rye manhattan please. Up. Oh! And can I have extra cherries? Like last time?

Anything for you, Curt.

He turned back again, leaning closer to Bucky. “He’s after the girls, anyway. You don’t gotta worry.” Curt squeezed his knee beneath the bar top and pretended not to notice the flinch it’d caused. “Don’t act like I’ve hit ya, man.” His hands picked at his hangnails in his lap again, feeling small. “Geez.”

“No,” Bucky turned, pressing his knees into the side of Curt’s left thigh. “It isn’t like that. It’s just been awhile since I’ve see you, is all. When you touch me — it’s just — it’s-“

“C’mon, John.” Curt shook his head, lowering his head to sip at his Manhattan without using his hands. “Don’t get all sappy on me again.”

Bucky nodded slowly, denying himself the pity party and forcing his head not to hang. “Just missed you.” He drawled, pressing his knuckle into Curt’s side. “Am I allowed to say that?”

Curtis chuckled, plucking one of his cherries off of the silver cocktail pick with his mouth. “Yeah.” He whispered, “You’re allowed to say that.”

In Bucky’s presidential suite, he knelt in front of Curtis and held him by his midsection, breathing him in, holding him by the back of his thighs, his ass, anything he could grab from his position. “I worried when you were late.” He confessed, his voice muffled into the shirt he shoved his face into.

“Why’s that?”

Curt ran his fingers through Bucky’s buttery, chocolate curls, tugging gently to pull him from his hide, their eyes meeting again instead.

“Thought maybe you got tired of me.”

“John,” Curtis warned, his tone carved with a jagged edge. “What did I tell ya about gettin’ sappy?”

Alcohol was one hell of a thing, and it seemed, just like most of the general population, the consumption of it had caused Bucky to grow more raw and honest.

“I know what you told me.” Bucky breathed, his neck craned when Curt tugged again at his scalp. “But I’m beginnin’ to care less and less what you say about it.” He blinked slowly, staring up at him from where he stayed knelt on the plush white carpet beneath his knees. “I’m a man, Curt. I’m human. I have feelings. Is it a crime to express them?”

“A married man.” Curt barked.

It seemed alcohol had a whole different effect on him.

“I — it’s —“ Bucky whined, feeling pathetic. There was little he could say back to that, because it was the damned truth. However, It wouldn’t stop him from trying. “We met in high school, Curt. We aren’t the same people we were back then. We’re from totally different planets, her and I.” He pulled Curt closer, pressing his chin to his stomach, his eyes staring upward. “She eats breakfast without me. Makes coffee, drinks the whole pot. I’m a burden to her, you know? And I’m lyin’ if I say I don’t feel the same.”

“But you got kids together, Bucky.”

“Exactly.” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to forget the image of his children lying in bed while their father kneels at the feet of a beautiful, charming, angelic call boy. “And at this point, it’s like playin’ house, you know? We pretend to be normal for ‘em.”

“Until when? Until they’re old enough to see the two of ya can’t stand the sight of one another?” Curt released his grip, touch trickling down further to caress the softness of Bucky’s cheeks and his pillowy lips stained a light shade of red from an entire bottle of Cabernet. “What happens then?”

Bucky turned his head, trying to kiss the pads of Curt’s small, stubby little fingers. “At least then maybe they’ll be old enough to understand, baby.” He reasoned.

“Understand what?”

A silence crept between them, only the sound of the city sirens and beeping cars zipping by muffled in the thick, heavy oxygen they shared.

“That sometimes love just isn’t enough.” Bucky kissed Curt’s sternum against the fabric that separated lips and skin. “But other times, it’s everything.”

Love isn’t for boys like Curt.

And this kind of love, if you asked him, wasn’t for men like Bucky.

Proprietors, the owners of major businesses.

A successful man.

He worked for everything he had, but had felt like nothing but a fraud for most of it. This very thing was the type of scandal that could burn everything he’d ever known to the ground.

Johnathan Egan, sole proprietor of Harmony Pharmaceuticals seen with PONY in Manhattan.

“If anything in my life feels real. Anything. I just want you to know — it’s this.”

Curt wanted to push him away, dart through the door and into the elevators that would spit him back out into the hotel lobby where he’d run into the street until his lungs bled.

But, he didn’t.

He froze instead, holding John by his cheeks, his blue eyes meeting the pair of green ones that stared at him as if he’d created this little universe of theirs.

And in a way, he had done just that.

Curt had taught Bucky so much about a world he never knew existed. Ballrooms, houses, mothers. Chosen family, love that ran deeper than blood or genetics. He learned about fashion, and what Curt would wear and what he wouldn’t be caught dead in.

He’d been exposed to a vast and beautiful night sky, having felt as though for the majority of his thirty years of existence he’d been stuck inside of a black hole — not one star in sight, until he met Curtis.

“What are you saying?” Curt whispered, his thumbs caressing the soft skin beneath the eyes that never dared to look away from him, and wouldn’t, if he had a say in it.

“I think you know, Curtis.”

“No.” He shook his head, though he knew exactly what Bucky was trying to tell him. “I don’t think I do.”

Once more fell the silence until Bucky spoke again, his chin tilted, the heat between them blazing. “I’m saying — all you need to do, Curt… All’s you gotta do is say the word.” His jaw clenched but immediately relaxed again once he continued. “We can have it all. The life we’ve always wanted. The life we both deserve.” He held Curt closer. “Just say the word.”