#feels good to dig out the inks

[fleetingspacee]

[uncanny-tranny]

The thing that gets me about history and humanity is that you never know what is immortalized, and the things that will be immortalized are things you would never think.

I saw a person sharing a new tattoo, and it was one of Onfim's drawings. A boy who lived so long ago he is barely a blip now, but his drawings meant so much to people that somebody is now permanently marked in their skin with one of those drawings. Do you ever look at the things you make and just sit there and wonder if this is the thing that future people look at? Do you ever look at your art, your writing, your schoolwork, or anything that is yours and just wonder who will find it, who will fall in love with a piece of your humanity and become overwhelmed with emotion over? It's not unlikely. It's not totally unlikely that somebody will find a piece of you in the distant future and devoid of any other context of who you were will still love you because you were here. You were here, and you are still here, even hundreds or thousands of years later. Treat yourself with the same love that so many have for dear Onfim.

[charliemwrites]

Still thinking about yesterday’s post and the dynamic that fucking snatched up my brain worms in a vice grip.

Reader who is perfectly capable, has a well earned spot on her team. Who has safety net after safety net provided by the mere presence of the rest of 141. So much so that she doesn’t even remember what fear is. Living in that invincible bubble of “we’re the best because we look out for each other and we’re not going to let anything happen to each other”

And the day that bubble pops and you don’t even realize it yet. A chance encounter with a KorTac operative and you stole his kill right out from under him. Made eye contact in a shower of blood, maybe even threw him a cheeky grin, high on stims as you were.

You didn’t realize that you’d stepped outside the metaphorical bounds of your little safe zone, stepped right into the territory of a feral, untamed creature with sharp teeth and the scent of you cloying in his nose. A scent that made his blood sing a siren song of want.

It’s not just happenstance that you cross paths again. (Not that you know that). Hes been seeking you out, taking mission after mission in a dogged attempt to see you again. To see if it was more than a fluke.

And his impatience, his persistence, is rewarded with the silhouette of you, breaking a man’s neck with your thighs. (If the man weren’t surely dead, he’d wish he was for the crime of having your attention, of being smothered by your thighs, of being that close to your cunt.)

In your precious stealth gear, sleek and deadly, eyes sharp on the path ahead, not the shadow gathering behind you. He just watches you for a long while, soaking you up like a dry earth in a squall, letting you take root deep, deep within his being, in the place a soul should be. (You’re better than.)

He’s got your callsign now, whispered by one of your team members as their path intersects with yours. Narrowed eyes at the (too) friendly shake given to the hard mask covering your mouth and nose, the way your cheeks rounded with a grin beneath.

What was an interest has evolved instantaneously into an obsession. (Or devotion. Or love. They’re all the same to him, all the same kind of possession.)

He loves watching you fight as much as he loves watching you kill. He’s hard in his tac pants experiencing it this close, getting to feel each unforgiving strike in all the openings he leaves for you - invitations you always accept because you’re his good girl and you can’t resist, of course not.

He purrs when he gets you pinned to the wall, your eyes big, sparking with that animal knowledge that you’ve been bested by a bigger predator. That you’ve been won, claimed. To the victors go the spoils, and the only thing he’s lost is his restraint.

You’re panting and squirming beneath him, and he’s hypnotized, unable to do more than press closer, press harder to get you wriggling against him. Moaning softly when your heel digs a bruise into his calf, how you go still with a sort of realization.

“Again,” he rasps into your ear, “go on, pretty little hunter. Keep going. You’re so strong.”

But before you can, something over his shoulder steals your attention. Your eyes flick away from, where they should be. And he realizes that he been so consumed by you, intoxicated, that he missed the intrusion on your moment together.

In the aftermath, his gear smells like you. The place where he slipped his thigh between yours and pressed he swears smells like your cunt, heady perfume. He’s breathes it in as he fucks his tight fist, high on the memory of your strength testing itself against his.

He imagines the scent of him all over you in return. Going back to those men with his claim in your armor, wishes you’d taken the blade with you, his blood smearing your gloves, your shirt, your pants, staining your skin.

He cums to that thought, thick spurts all over a grainy print out of you from the op he first met you on, milky drops on the ink that forms your mask.

Soon, it’ll be reality.

[youryanderedaddy]

War Prize

pt. 1, pt. 2

Tw: female reader, dub-con, somnophilia, stockholm syndrome, possessive behavior, hinted kidnapping, threats, commissioned piece

It had been so long since Raven captured you - five or six years in total, although you couldn't be quite sure of the exact amount as you had no access to books, calenders or even ink to write with.

Nowadays it was mostly calm around the occupied territories - almost domestic in a sense. You let yourself be pampered more often than not - you drunk the silky, bitter coffee Raven's slaves left out for you, and bathed in the sweet oils he picked for you. Long gone were the days when you fought him over the slightest injustice, long gone were the days when you stopped to think about every miserable soul who had to suffer so you could live in luxury. 

It was easier this way really. The barbarian was good to you, even if it wasn't in his nature initially. The hands that once bruised and hit and wrapped around your hair were now caressing your skin softly, the lips once sealed tight with furrowed hairy brows were leaving hot, wet kisses down your throat, feverish to the touch. You could wear the finest furs and dresses, your body covered in stolen gold and plundered diamonds from head to toe. Raven had made it clear - he loved you, and that meant that the whole world belonged to you the way you belonged to him.

Your life was simple, you had one purpose now - to please your master. You didn't have to work long hours on the field or take care of  a big, starving family ever again. All you had to do was spread your legs at any given moment, and stay soft and pliant in his rough, muscular hands. 

***

You'd usually wake up early in the morning from the slow, deep thrusts inside your hot wet cunt - stars dancing in your eyes as his length brushes against your cervix, filling you up to the brim. Your wrists are pinned above your head with little opportunity for movement, keeping you tightly into place. 

Raven starts slowly and keeps turning up the pace until he is practically shoving himself sloppily against your overflowing hole, his nails digging into the meat of your thighs so he can have more leverage over your quivering body.

“I love to see you fall apart beneath me.” He'd growl in your ear, his forehead resting against yours as his nostrils flare - eyes filled with sick, animalistic need to possess you fully. You moan, closing your eyes - too overwhelmed with pleasure to form a proper response. “Ah, ah, ah - no hiding from me. Let me see you, pretty girl.” Raven hisses, spreading your legs even wider, bouncing your hips up and down on his throbbing cock. 

Your lower lip trembles, desperate to stop another wave of wanton moans - but to no avail. Your sweet voice fills the tent, echoing beyond the thick walls.

“Look at you, all cute and teary for me. Aren't you just precious, slave?” The barbarian chuckles condescendingly, all while groping and slapping your ass lightly - playing with the hot doughy skin. “I want everyone to hear you.” His gaze darkens as his fist wraps around your neck possessively. “I want every single one of my men to hear you sing for me. I want their robes to strain with greed and jealousy with the knowledge that they'll never have my most prized possession.” 

You inhale sharply, lost in a cloudy headspace of dreams and red - hot pleasure. You feel your master's hand squeeze your throat tighter, and your pussy flutters around his length, slick running down your thighs and towards your asshole. It doesn't make sense - he is using you for his own satisfaction with little care for your personal comfort, but his touch makes you feel so warm and floaty, fuzzy butterflies tearing at your stomach - proud to belong to such a strong, powerful man. 

“I want you completely broken. I want to fill you up with my love and ruin you for any other man out there.” He'd groan, sinking his teeth into your neck and aiming for your sweet, sweet blood. “I want everyone to know that I tamed your pretty little brain and made you all mine, now and forever.” Raven kisses you, stealing the breath out of your mouth, sucking in all the panicked little sounds coming out of it. “Say it.” He orders, both threatening and desperate like a lovesick child. 

You can't stand it anymore - you throw your arms around his shoulders. You need to feel him against you, skin on skin. “I'm yours, all yours.” You cry out, holding on for dear life. There is no point denying it now - you can't imagine life without your master, no matter how cruel or difficult he may be. Who else would warm your bed? Who would give you purpose? Where else could you even go now that he has claimed you - and everybody knows?

“Say you love me.” His voice breaks, hands shivering as he holds you painfully close to him - as if the moment he lets go, he'd wake up and you'd be gone just like before. “Say you love me like I love you. Say you'll never leave me - or I swear to the Gods I'll chain you up here to never see the sun again.” He blubbers on and on, thrusts getting fast and frantic, pushing in and out of you with the ferocity of a lover and the fear of a man possessed. 

“I love you.” You whisper, laying back like a good little doll - letting yourself move and twist just the way he wants you to. He pulls you up into a standing position and all but swallows your sobs and wails, his tongue fighting yours for dominance. He lowly commands you to keep repeating it over and over again - until he gets sick of it (if ever), and paints your velvet walls all white and sticky with his seed. 

You take a couple of short shallow breaths, trying to resume your normal breathing. His hand rests on your neck - his eyes finally lose the furious, jealous spark, and he reaches out to stroke your hair gently.

“Good girl.”

[prettyfilmz]

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION • JEY USO

authors note: hello my darlings! I’ve recently been working on a new mini project called “love language” which includes 5 writing pieces written based on the 5 love languages featuring my fav wrestlers. this piece is the first of the series which I am super excited to share with you all. I hope you enjoy and let me know if you would like to be tagged in the next part♥️

summary: jey found a creative way to help remind you how beautiful you are.

warnings: 18+ (y’all go watch baby einstein or something this is for grown folks 🧍🏾‍♀️) porn w/out plot, dom!jey uso x sub! fem reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!) missionary position, praise, daddy kink, slight orgasm denial, small aftercare moment.

word count: 718 words

“come on mama…say it for me.”

jey growled in your ear, his voice low and rough sending shivers down your spine. if you weren’t so intoxicated off the delicious feeling of his dick relentlessly stroking against your g spot, you’d protest how unfair he was being. 

your legs clung tighter to his waist, nails digging into intricate ink on the sweat slick skin of his back as his thrusts grew deeper, each one pulling a soft moan from his lips which vibrated against your neck.“baby…I’ll stop right now if you don’t say it,” he whispered in your ear, a threat laced with a dark promise you knew he didn’t want to keep. the way your pussy clenched around him, warm slick and needy, made it clear you weren’t going to last long along with himself, but he needed to hear those words.

you hesitated, torn between pride and the aching need that jey could only satisfy. but as the peak of your orgasm began to slip, his rhythm coming to a torturing halt, lust and desperation won the round. ”I’m..I’m beautiful.” your voice so soft and needy it barely rose above both your mingled breaths…but he heard it. those words were a lifeline, pulling you both back into the intoxicating rhythm that had your eyes rolls to the back of your head.

jey’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk at your whispered confession hung in the air, the heat between the both of you simmering to a boil. “damn right, that’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice laced with praise, and the way he gazed up you with his brown eyes made your heart race faster and your pussy even wetter. 

his hips snapped back into motion, thrusting into you with renewed intensity, each stroke pulling a choked cry out of you. “fuck…feel so fucking good daddy..” you sobbed, your hands gripped him tighter, nails creating crescent indents on his back, eliciting a low moan from him that almost made you cum on the spot.

jey leans down, his mouth trailing hot, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before saying, “you gon’ be my good girl?” spank! a heavy hand comes in contact with your ass, making you yelp. the stinging sensation sending a wave of arousal to your core. “y-yes!” you plea with tears streaming down your cheeks, squirming when his other hand slides between your legs to play with your engorged clit. 

“you gon’ cum on this dick for daddy?” spank!

“yes daddy imma cum for you.”

jey let out a deep, satisfied groan as he rewarded you with a harder, faster pace. his body slammed into yours with a force that had your breath hitching and your vision blurring. he was getting relentless, each powerful thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your nervous system, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“mhm you so damn beautiful,” he growled. “and mine.” his possessiveness was enough to send you over the edge, and with a final cry of his name, you came. white-hot pleasure flooding your psyche as you convulsed and gushed around him.  

he wasn’t too far behind, the vice grip your pussy had on his dick pushed him to his limit. with a few sloppy thrusts, he buried himself deep inside you, filling you up with thick white ropes of his cum. his body shuddered with the force of his orgasm as he groaned your name. 

for a moment, the world was still. only the sounds of ragged breathes of you both who had just given everything to each other. then, slowly, jey pulled out of you, momentarily watching his cum leak out of your swollen mound before resting his sweaty forehead against your own. as he caught his breath, a lazy but satisfied grin spread across his face mirroring yours. 

“you were so good for me, mama.” he praised, kissing the hickies he left on your collarbone. his voice was rid of any roughness and was replaced with a softness that could lull you to sleep. “always so good for me.”

all you could do is sigh in appreciation, body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. in that moment, all of your insecurities from earlier were washed away and was replaced with a newfound contentment and confidence. 

[thebestofoneshots]

This isn’t really a request but this came to may head at three in the morning ok Imagine like your getting fucked by one of the Marauders or all of them and yk those moving pictures they have in the wizard world image they have a whole box filled of the reader getting back shots and EVERYTHING 😵‍💫🥴

THE STASH | marauders x reader

Pairing: J.P. x S.B. x R.L x Female Reader

Word Count: 5 k

Warnings: Smut, finger fucкing, a little bit of PTSD on Sirius, pictures taken w/o reader’s knowledge, reader being insecure and gaining back confidence thanks to the boys.

Prompt: You find the boy's stash, filled with lusty pictures and they make you feel insecure, thoughts about not being good enough for them arise, the catch is, that’s THE OLD stash. (Happy ending)

Notes: I had a similar idea already in my head so when I saw this ask I just knew I had to make it happen.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

You knocked on their door a couple of times when no one said anything, you decided to let yourself  in, “Rem? Jamie? Sirius?” 

No answer. 

You looked around and went to sit by Remus’ bed. He said he’d see you in their room later that night for study and maybe something more, but with study club and prefect duties, you assumed he was as busy as the two other boys were with the quidditch training. You didn’t mind it much though, their room was a lot more quiet to study in than yours, and it was always fun to see their surprised faces when they walked in and you were there. 

You were taking your book and some parchment out when a pot of ink fell from your bag and onto the floor. There was a thud and then another one and then it spilled all over. You gasped and left the bag on the side before leaning down to pick it up. You whispered a quick “reparo,” and the crystal pot wasn’t leaking anymore, but the ink was still on the floor and some of it was spilling down the wooden floorboard. 

“Fuck,” you whispered as you summoned a napkin from your bag and started to clean as best as you could, but it didn’t seem to be working, it was still spilling down into what looked like a nook on the floor. You frowned and looked at the wooden board in detail only to realize there was a section that was a little more worn than the rest. 

You frowned and tried to lift the board by digging your nails on the side but it wasn’t working, you huffed and walked over to Sirius’ night table to see if he still had his pocket knife there. Luckily he did, and you took it, pulling out one of the blades and using it as a crane to lift the wooden board.

Once you did you realized the ink had slipped inside most of the things they kept in there. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered continuously as you tried to pull off the things in fear that they would be ruined with the ink. There were some old letters, some hand-rolled cigars, a few potions and then a small box, that one had gotten most of the ink. You winced and pulled it out, biting your lip as you tried to concentrate. You had been so busy with the cleaning, that you never saw the spiderwebs that covered most of the items. 

“Evanesco,” you whispered, focused solely on the ink, which successfully disappeared, but so did the small lock they had on the box and it opened by itself. You blinked a couple of times when you saw what was inside. You carefully grabbed one of the images, a stunning red-headed witch, winking at you as she bounced around, with her very large, and very beautiful breasts in full display. 

You gulped as you stared at her, she wiggled her shoulders a bit and gave you another wink. You sucked in a breath, she was freaking stunning. And probably there because of James’ fixation with redheads. 

The rest of the pictures were turned over, but curiosity got the best of you, and you took another piece of paper from the box. That one was bent in four, as if it had been ripped from a magazine. You slowly unbend it, first one fold and then the other and there was another stunning witch in the image. 

This one had smaller breasts, but she was leaning down on a bed, perfectly manicured hands brushing over her own folds, two perfectly long and well-shaped legs on the side. She had dark skin and the light reflected on her legs as she accommodated on the bed, her head leaning back with what looked like a sigh as she rolled her hand over her clit. She too was beautiful, and perfect. 

You sat the image on the side, next to the redhead and pulled another one. One of the smaller ones, only to be met with yet another stunning witch, perfectly flat stomach, and beautiful perky breasts, she was riding a pillow, one hand on the bed and looking straight at you as she bit her lips, inviting, enticing. You placed her next to the others as you pulled another image. And then another, and then another. 

Image after image, perfectly attractive witches in all sorts of positions, some by themselves, some with companions (either other hot witches or the cock of a wizard or two). You pressed your legs together, there was a mix of feelings inside you. First of all, you were a little turned on after seeing such kind of imagery. But second, and most important. You were a little upset. 

Which was ridiculous, you knew. Expecting the boys to pleasure themselves with the thought of you in mind when you weren’t around was stupid, especially when there were clearly much better and hotter witches in the market. What with their perfectly round breasts and their beautiful lips and flat stomachs and long legs and rosy cunts. You looked at them with a bit of a frown, they all had something in common, they were perfect, and you? You were far, far from that. 

Now you weren’t upset that the boys were doing themselves, you knew men needed a lot more release than women did and you tried to keep that in mind as you placed all the beautiful witches back in their box, but you couldn’t help but think: Did they also think of them when they were with you? Did they imagine the beautiful redhead’s breasts when they were kissing yours, or maybe that they were in between the legs of that girl with the gorgeous reflective skin instead of your own? 

While the pictures were meant to be stimulating, and they had been a little at the beginning, the more you thought about them, the more you thought they were so much unlike you and the more your thoughts continued to spiral. 

“Such beautiful witches…” you murmured as you closed the box, “and they are equally gorgeous men… why are they–“ You didn’t finish your words out loud, too painful to say them outside of your head. 

Why are they with me? 

You carefully placed the box back into its spot, cleaned the rest of the things that had gotten stained and placed everything back in their stash. You carefully placed the wooden plank back where it belonged and put Sirius’ knife back in his drawers. You took a deep breath, not feeling up for much and instead ripped a page from your notebook. 

“I’m feeling a little sick, see you boys tomorrow.”

It was simple enough not to make them question further, you left it on top of Remus’ bed and left the room. 

The following day, the boys being as marvelous and attentive as they were, had gotten you to forget about the stash almost completely. And things had been absolutely perfect since then.

At least until a few days later, you had been playing wizards chess with Sirius on his bed, and after he beat you for the third time making you feel both hopeless and a little dumb for not anticipating his moves –which was also ridiculous because Sirius had been a wizard chess champion– he offered to make it up to you. 

It was in the spark in his eyes that you knew exactly what he meant. You bit your lip, Remus was reading a book on his bed while James was snoring lightly next to him, one hand draped across the other boy’s torso. You knew they’d want to join in when they realized what you and Sirius were up to, and it sent a shiver down your stomach. 

“What do you say, doll?” Sirius asked as he levitated the chess board and the broken pieces to the side, inviting you to come closer.

You huffed “You think you can make it up with your little puppy eyes?” 

Sirius pretended to think about it for a second before nodding. “While they should be enough, I’m still planning to use more than just my looks to make you feel better.” 

You returned the smile and leaned closer to him, moving to straddle his sitting form, his back was pressed to the headboard and you could feel he was at least a little excited as you leaned into him. 

“Did you win so many times just so you could say that to me?” You asked in disbelief, you were drumming your fingers near the nape of his neck.

“I might have been a little extra attentive,” he replied as he grabbed onto your hips and placed a kiss on your neck. “I know how riled up you get when you can’t best me,” he said before placing another kiss, this time further up, “I kind of enjoy seeing your little frown, and angry looks,” he admitted, he was now kissing your jaw. You rolled your hips into his and he tightened his grip on your hips in response. 

You smiled, loving the fact that you knew exactly what Sirius liked and how to get him worked up, at least as much as he knew of you. You rolled your hips again and he reached his hand under your skirt, feeling the outside of your leg before flicking his hand to the inside of it. To the softer skin that he grabbed with firm tenderness. Itching his hand closer and closer, making sure to massage your skin, tauntingly. 

You leaned your head onto his shoulder, letting his beautiful hair fall on your face as you rolled your hips again, a lot softer this time, matching his pace and wanting his hand to come closer. 

“Eager, are we?” he teased.

“Shhh, you’ll wake up Jamie,” you said as you leaned over to kiss his neck. He bit his lip to hold back a moan and finally placed his hand over your panties, tracing a soft line over your slit. You bucked your hips against his hand and he chuckled lightly. 

Remus, who had been focused on his book so far, frowned and looked up at the two of you, smirking a little when he noticed what you were up to. Of course, he knew that chuckle, it was Sirius’ sexy teasing laugh. 

“Easy love or you’ll be the one to wake up Prongs,” he said, leaning his head to your ear and softly nibbling on it. He traced his hand over your slit a couple more times, and you bucked your hips again. He smiled, you didn’t see it, but you felt it against your skin, “All right, all right…” he said as he flicked his finger over the hem of your panties and moved them aside. You leaned even closer to him as he dug his fingers in, “All of this for me?” he teased as he felt how wet you were. 

Remus, who was now only half looking at his book, had somewhat of a fun time as he listened in to your conversation with Sirius. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it stimulating. But he also knew Sirius had had a bit of a bad week, so he thought of letting him have you just for himself, at least for a little bit longer, or until James woke up, just as eager to join in. 

“Sirius please,” you whined with a frown and he smiled, letting his fingers trace up until they found your clit, making circles over it, which had you bucking your hips against him again. You bit the side of your cheek as you allowed him to move his hand, leaning in to kiss his neck again, to muffle any possible moans with his skin. 

“May I?” he asked, teasing your entrance with his index. 

“Mhm,” you said and bucked your hips again, eager for him to do his thing. And he complied, digging his finger inside and allowing it to move inside you as expertly as ever. 

“So tight,” he whispered, Remus’ cock twitching at Sirius’ words and reconsidering whether he actually wanted to wait more before joining in. 

He did not, so he carefully lifted James’ arm from his torso and walked towards Sirius’ bed. He sat right beside the two of you, a cocky smile on his face as he tilted his head to the side, “You two having fun there?” he asked, “without me?” 

“You’re always welcome to join in Moony,” Sirius said with a teasing grin as he pulled you back just a little. You had both of your hands on Sirius’ shoulders, and you were now using them as leverage to ride his hand. 

Moony smiled, “I might just watch for a while,” he said, leaning back and placing one of his hands on the back of Sirius’ neck. He knew how much small actions and touches like that made Sirius react, and he smiled as the boy’s breath hitched in his throat. He then turned to look at you, a mischievous grin on his face, he took his wand out and whispered “Evanesco.”  

Suddenly both your shirt and bra disappeared, giving both boys the perfect sight of your breasts perking up at the sudden cold. Sirius grunted as he stared, and Remus hummed satisfied. You clenched around Sirius’ fingers –which were now two– whimpered and let out a soft moan. 

But then, as you felt their gazes on you, and you felt your own boobs bouncing as you continued to ride Sirius’ expert fingers, you started to feel self-conscious, of how you looked, of how they were staring at you, on whether they were actually thinking of you or imagining something else, someone else. Maybe the beautiful redhead? The busty blonde? The reflextive-skinned goddess with the beautiful legs? The brunette with the beautiful ass?

Suddenly the lights flickered, and they were gone. You relaxed, Sirius felt the grip on his shoulder untensing, but he thought it was because you were close. But Sirius liked to see your fucked out face when he had his fingers inside you, and in seconds the lights were turned back on, and you tensed instantly. 

The muscle movements were normal, but the way you suddenly dug your nails into his shoulders was not, at least not in the moment it was happening and not in the way it was either. Something was up.

He stopped moving his hand in an instant, “you all right, angel?” he asked, a small wrinkle forming on his forehead as his brows furrowed together. 

You seemed to be lost in thought for a second, Remus noticed that too, “Yeah… just. Let’s leave the lights off today.” 

Now it was Remus’ turn to frown, he took his hand from Sirius’ neck and sat straighter, pulling back and leaning in closer to look at your face, his hand instinctively traveling to your thigh.  Sirius, with one hand still inside you –now unmoving– was brushing his thumb in circles on your waist, they were both giving you their unwavering attention, and your breath hitched in your throat. You looked at them nervously, your eyes traveling from boy to boy at unprecedented speeds and you bit your lip, and then the lights were off again. 

Once they were off, you sighed and leaned your head on Sirius’ shoulder. He felt how you relaxed in an instant, and his frown deepened. “Angel, what is it?” 

“Nothing, light’s giving me a headache,” you lied. 

Sirius turned to Remus, while he couldn’t see much, he knew Remus would probably be able to see his questioning stance easily, with his enhanced senses, at least. “You believe her?” he mouthed. 

Remus shook his head in response, and when he realized Sirius couldn’t actually see he turned to you and placed his hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure that’s it, luv?” 

You swallowed, which was enough indication you weren’t, and you lied again, “Yes, let’s just, continue as is.” 

Sirius knew you were lying, and he hated it when you lied to him, he also hated not being able to see shit while Remus could see your every reaction so he turned the lights on, didn’t even use his wand for it, and you tensed again. 

You were taken aback by that and swallowed thickly. Your breath was slightly ragged and it was not because you were turned on, in fact, if anything, you felt rather apprehensive now. You cleared your throat. “You know, maybe I’m just not feeling it,” you lied again and pulled yourself off of his hand. 

Sirius felt way too many things at the same time, he was worried about your reaction since he thought he’d done something wrong. He was angry because he knew you were hiding the exact reason; he wanted, no, he needed to know what was up so he would never do it again, and thirdly, he was upset, he’d felt…rejected. And by you, no other. 

By the time Sirius reacted again, you were buttoning your shirt up and walking towards their door. James, who had been asleep till then, was finally awoken by the lights coming on and off and the small commotion going on. He was confused, at first he thought you were just playing, but perhaps that was not it. 

But Sirius was faster, and he jumped over Remus to get to the door just as you were opening it and shut it closed. You jumped back just a little, shocked at how fast he’d moved, you were now the one with a frown, anger bubbling to your chest, Sirius’ temper had always been something you’d learn to deal with, and even if you knew it was justified now, that didn’t stop yours from flaring up. 

“That’s not it,” he said confidently, “that’s not it and you’re not getting out until you tell me what’s upset you.” 

“Sirius,” Remus said now, ever the conciliator. He’d also stood from the bed and walked the few strides left to get next to the two of you. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best reaction you could have had, but you were already pretty shaken up by the situation at hand, by your rather torturous thoughts and by Srius’ slamming of the door. “Oh, so you know my body better than I do?” you said defensively, “you would know if I have or not a headache.” 

“YES!” he responded stubbornly. “I know how it reacts when it has a headache and it’s not the way you were reacting now!” 

You shook your head as you scoffed, James was now sitting on the bed looking at the situation both confused and worried. 

“Moony! Back me up on this?” he said as he turned his face to him. 

Remus bit his lip, as he shook his head, thinking before speaking. “He’s right luv, that was not your headache reaction.” 

You scoffed, “ff course, you’d take his side.” 

“I’m not taking any sides.” 

“Well you are, just don’t realize it!” you said angrily. “If I say I have a headache, I have one and that’s it. Now, I want to leave.” 

“Darling,” Remus said as he let out a breath, he seemed worried and upset as well now, you were trying really hard not to feel bad about it, trying to remind yourself why you needed to leave. 

It was Sirius who spoke again, his lips quivering as he found the right words, “Just tell me what I did wrong, I’ll never do it again, I promise,” his voice broke near the end. He was panicking, he was terrified he’d hurt you and that you’d leave thinking the worst of him. You knew what was hapening had brought back some past trauma and you didn’t want to be the catalyst of another panick attack.

You took a deep breath when you heard him, your frown deepening as you considered your words, “I found your stash.” 

The three men went quiet in an instant. Sirius looked like a deer trapped in headlights, Remus’ jaw had tightened and you’d heard James’ gasp in the back. 

“Darling, I–“ Sirius tried to speak but you cut him off. 

“No, no,” you tried to reason, more with yourself than with him. “I get, it’s fine, you need your release time and all that, I don’t mind.” 

“Well, you clearly do,” Remus said. You felt a hand on your shoulder, it was James’. He had walked towards you the moment he heard about the stash but you hadn’t noticed until then. You flinched but missed the hurt look that etched his features as he looked at you. 

“Well yes. But it’s a stupid feeling nonetheless. I’ll get over it. Just need time.” 

“It was me,” James said from behind, “it was my idea, not Sirius’. Don’t be upset at him.” 

You swallowed thickly, not wanting to be angry at James for something so natural in men, let alone because you knew this whole mess was created due to your own thoughts and insecurities, not theirs. And now you were upsetting them, what a great bIoody girlfriend you were. 

“I don’t bIoody care whose idea it was!” you spat. “Please let me off,” you said then, leg bouncing, you wanted to get out before you said something that would upset them more. 

“We’ll never do it again if that makes you feel better,” Sirius tried. 

“No it– It fucking doesn’t, okay? It’s fine, it’s… Found it a couple of nights ago when my ink pot fell on the floor.” The three boys exchanged a look with each other, had either of them changed its spot? “It’s pretty fresh in my mind and– I just– I can’t stop thinking you’re imagining them while being with me.” 

“Them?” Sirius asked, confused. 

“The pretty witches!” you responded, almost angrily. Remus, who was in front of you looked confused, and you huffed before adding in more detail. “Beautiful redhead,” you looked at James. “Gorgeous blonde,” you added as you turned to Sirius. Then looked back at the taller boy, “need I elaborate?” 

You heard James gasp from behind. “She found the old stash!” 

“Ah, so you have a new and improved one,” you said now, and shook your head as you turned at the door. Sirius was leaning in and he had a cheeky smile on his face now, which pissed you off even further. 

“You could call it that,” he said with a shrug. 

“Sirius,” Remus said calmly again. “Don’t.” 

But Sirius just smiled instead, “Oh but, I’m impressed. Our lovely angel was jealous.” 

“I was not.” You said flatly. “Get off the door, please,” the last part was much more of a beg than a demand. 

Sirius shook his head, “not until you see the new stash.” 

Remus and James exchanged looks after that, not even sure if they should or shouldn’t stop Sirius. 

“I don’t want to see the witches you use to wank off now, it’s enough with the images already in my head. Can’t stop thinking of them, of you thinking about them when you’re looking at me.” 

Sirius’ face fell instantly, his teasing stance almost faltering but not his determined blockage of the door. 

“That’s not–“ 

“Have you considered perhaps it was the other way around?” Remus asked as he placed a slightly hesitant hand on your shoulder. 

“What?” 

“That we imagined you when looking at them.” 

You were taken aback by that. No, you hadn’t considered that. “What about the redhead, can’t tell me she wasn’t there because of James’ old obsession with Evans?” 

James sighed, it was. That’s why they had to get a new stash. 

“She needs to see the new stash,” Sirius said while looking at the two other boys. 

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” James intervened, it had been his idea after all, and he had admitted it to you now. He didn’t want to have you get mad over something else, and this time your anger would be indisputably justifiable. 

“I think it is,” Sirius insisted. 

You sighed, “you can continue deciding if you’re going to show me your new fuckable witches or not a different day. Sirius, get off the door.” 

He shook his head and turned to James, “Please?” 

“I don’t want to see them! Enough is enough!” 

You turned to the side to try and find another exit when you bumped into Remus, he had a box in his hand. He raised it a bit, you knew what it was instantly. 

“Remus!” James complained and went to get it but was hastily stopped by Sirius who got in the way and trapped him in his arms. 

“Prongs behave!” He said sternly. 

The path to the door was free now, but Remus’ serious stance made you curious, even more when he moved his finger to his lips and bit hard enough to draw bIood. 

“What the fu–“ 

“It’s so no one can open but us,” he explained. “We bIood charmed it.” 

You looked at him with a shocked face, you didn’t think they’d go to such lengths to hide their spicy stuff, what the hell did they even have there?

Some of the metal hinges at the top moved around a little bit, looking almost like a miniature Gringotts vault, and then it snapped open. Remus pushed it your way. You looked at the three boys before picking the first image up. It was Remus, shirtless Remus on the day you’d gone swimming at the Potter’s last summer. He was pulling his hair back and water glistened all over his torso, he looked at you and winked, before turning to look at something else. 

You gasped and pulled another picture, it was James and Sirius, both also shirtless, and they were making out under a tree. Sirius had his leg in between James’ and was leaning onto him rather intensely. 

The next one was you, you had the swimsuit you’d bought that summer, the one you thought looked really good on you, and you were on your knees, looking for something on the sand, your ass was slightly prompted up and the picture was obviously focused on that. You swallowed thickly and went to grab another one. 

You again, this time while making out with Remus, his hand was on your ass and you had realized they were taking a picture, looking at the camera with a diverted gasp before covering the lens with your hand. 

You took another one, and this time around you were genuinely shocked, it was Remus, being blown by James. His pinky pretty lips wrapped around Rem’s cock. “Oh, wow.” 

James frowned, he knew what else there was in there and he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to see it, he had never felt worse about his own ideas than now. Responsible, he knew he had bertrayed you, in a way. You took the next picture and stared at it for a minute. 

It was you again, well, you’re back at least. You were riding Sirius, moving back and forth over his cock as he helped you, hands on your waist as he bit his lip. You didn’t see your face, but you knew it hadn’t been that long ago. If Sirius’ new tattoo was any telling. 

You looked at the boys shocked, you hadn’t even realized they’d taken the picture, but you looked as pretty as any witch in the other photos, how had they gotten you to look so good? 

They hadn’t done anything, it was just you. 

“You don’t have to–“ James started, but you had already picked up another picture.

“Shut up,” you said simply.

 You again, this time you were sprawled on the bed with a blindfold on your head. That had been on your birthday. James had one of his hands on your leg, dangerously close to your slit while Sirius was kissing your breast and sucking at your nipples. 

And there was more, a lot of pictures from that day, all in compromising positions. Some involving you and the boys, some involving only the boys on different occasions, some you remembered, some in which you hadn’t even been present. There was even one of Sirius wanking off to the picture of you in the swimsuit you had seen earlier. 

“I’m sorry–“ James said, now sounding distressed and shaking Sirius off him. “I’m sorry angel, we should have never done it.” 

You grabbed another one of the photos, it had clearly been rushed, the camera being hidden as you turned your head to look at the boys, this time around you were kneeling on the bed, and James was jerking himself off to you, teasing your entrance before pulling out completely and allowing his cum to fall over your ass and back. 

“You’re right.,” you said as you placed the pictures back in the box, expression neutral. “You should have never done it without asking me–” James swallowed. 

“Love I–“ 

“James, shut up!” you said again, giving the pictures another look. “You should have never done it without asking me first,” you said as you flipped through some more pics and tsking. “I would have helped.” 

James’ jaw dropped, and you looked at him with a cheeky smile. Sirius was looking at you proudly and satisfied with his choice while Remus stared at the picture you had in your hand. The one where you were getting a back shot but was shaky and blurry because the camera had been hidden before you saw it. 

You moved the picture up, holding it between your fingers as you displayed it to the boys, “What do you say we recreate this one, but with better quality?” 

Sirius scoffed a laugh and smiled. 

“I’ll get the camera,” Remus said simply.

James was still stunned, and you leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Sirius leaned from behind and kissed you on the cheek “I told them you should know about it from the beginning but they said you’re too pure for it.” 

You laughed at that, “you boys keep calling me angel,” you said as you turned to Sirius and wrapped your hands around his neck, “but I wouldn’t have done all the things I have with you all if I wasn’t the exact opposite,” you added with a smirk.

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post. Comments are my life fuel, so send them out if you have any.

This one might get a part two, if you guys wanna see that <3

Raead more Marauders Fiction

[ink-n-shadow]

141 X FLEXIBLE READER HELP (could be nsfw, could be reader just freaking them out with the weird shit flexibility allows)

as soon as i saw this request, i knew it had to be smut 😔

LIKE 'EM BENDY

𝜗𝜚 characters: simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, john price, kyle "gaz" garrick (reader is gn with non-descriptive genitalia) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), degradation (ghost), mentions of bondage (soap), lowkey breeding kink (price), horribly unedited

ghost would definitely see just how flexible you are by fucking you in a full nelson, his beefy arms tucked neatly behind the back of your neck as he fucks his thick cock into your slick hole. he loves the way your calves feel hanging over his forearms, your nails clawing at the tattoos he has there as he forces himself against the soft spot nestled deep in your pelvis. “s’good for me—like a fuckin’ doll,” he would growl in your ear, tongue snaking out to lick a stripe up from your love to the shell of your ear. “can just bend you into any position i want, huh? fuck—watch it go in, watch me fuck you like a slut. that’s it, such a bendy little fuckin’ whore.”

soap, ever the eater he is, likes how flexible you are because it lets him spread your legs as far and wide as they can go, putting you on complete display and giving him unfettered access to your sopping heat. he likes you on your back anyway but that position lets him hold your legs apart with a hand on each ankle, knelt in front of you with his mouth pulling you apart bit by bit. “keep your fuckin’ legs open—don’t make me have to tie them,” his words are muffled against your hole, slurred by the way he keeps his tongue writhing and slipping inside of you. and if you start getting too squirmy for his liking, he’s bringing a heavy palm down against your inner thigh before wrenching your legs apart wider.

price likes to see your flexibility in just how far he can shove your legs up to your chest into the deepest mating press possible, all while drilling deliriously into you. the feeling of your legs draped completely over his shoulders, the heels of your feet thumping against his back with each rut of his hips has his head spinning every single time. “keep y’legs up there, baby. c’mon, i know you’re flexible—there we go, feels better like that, right?” and price won’t fill you up until your ankles are locked behind his neck, his blunt nails digging into the supple flesh of your thigh as he dumps his load into you.

gaz loves standing sex (this is a headcanon i will die by), and his favorite thing to do is to take the leg you usually wrap tightly around his waist and hook it up over his forearm, stretching your hips further apart to push his cock deeper into you. he likes the way it makes your nails dig deeper into the skin of his back, shivers rippling up his spine as the pain only makes his hips move faster. “fuck—does it feel good, sweetheart? should put your leg up on my fuckin’ shoulder, make you squeeze my cock tighter. y’think you’re flexible enough for it?” and standing sex with gaz always ends up with one of your legs up over his shoulder and his teeth buried into the muscle of your calf as he spills inside of you.

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[nina-ya]

Closet Cravings (Law x Reader NSFW)

A/N: I had meant to post this earlier in the week but ya know! hurricane things! Apologies for tossing this out so late but here it is! Pairing: Law x AFABreader CW: SMUT MINORS DNI unprotected sex, creampie, semi public sex, uhhh yeah I think that's it! • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ You don't even remember how you got here. One moment you were tossing back glasses of champagne at some frivolous banquet where you didn't quite know what you were celebrating, the next, Law had those inked hands all over you, planting needy kisses along your neck and shoulder, pulling you into the nearest storage closet to take things further. The closet is suffocating with the thick scent of sex and sweat in the air as your back digs into the wall behind you. There’s barely enough space to breathe, let alone move, but that doesn’t matter. Not with Law pressed so tightly against you, his chest flush to yours, his body pinning you in place. His breath is ragged in your ear, heavy with lust, as his fingers dig into your hips, controlling every desperate grind of your body against his.��

Your dress, once elegant and pristine, is now hiked up around your waist, bunched and forgotten as his fingers slide beneath your panties, teasing the slick pooling between your legs. Every inch of you is alive, burning with the need for more, and despite Law’s own eagerness to feel you wrapped around him, he likes to keep it slow, just to torment you.

He could use his Devil Fruit to silence you, making those filthy sounds spilling from your lips disappear into nothing, but he doesn't. No, he wants to hear you. Wants to watch the way your pretty little jaw goes slack, letting out huffs and pants, your breath hitching as you try, and fail, to stifle the moans bubbling up from your throat. There’s something about the way you struggle to keep quiet, your body trembling, that drives him absolutely mad. 

“You’re too fucking loud,” he growls, lips brushing against your ear, but the smirk tugging at his lips tells you that he is enjoying seeing your futile attempts at holding yourself together.

The combined heat of your bodies is suffocating, to say the least, the cramped space seems to amplify every sensation and you are acutely aware of the way his fingers slide away from your dripping hole and are replaced by the bulbous head of his cock. He rubs the tip against you, just enough to coat his tip with your essence before sliding right in. The stretch is delicious, forcing you to bite down hard on your lip to keep from crying out, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as your body clenches around him. 

“Law…” his name falls from your lips in a shaky whisper, a plea, but he just responds by pulling out slightly and thrusting in all the way, ripping a yelp from your throat. 

“You just look too good tonight,” he murmurs, dipping his head into your neck, grazing his teeth along the skin as he huffs with the intensity of his thrusts. “How the hell was I supposed to control myself?”

You can feel every inch of him inside you, the tight space making each thrust deeper, harder, his hips rolling in a way that makes your whole body tremble. Your breath comes in shallow, ragged pants, but the way he moves inside of you makes it nearly impossible. Your body arches against him, your hands gripping his shoulders for any semblance of support, but it’s not enough. The pleasure builds, coiling tight within you, and it takes everything within you to keep from just wailing out his name for others outside of this closet to hear. 

But Law wasn’t satisfied. One of his hands slips down between your legs, pressing against your swollen clit with a pressure that rips a gasp from your lips. The shock of the feeling has your whole body jerking in response as he rubs circles against the bundle of nerves, making it impossible to think, let alone stay quiet. 

He smirks against your neck, placing wet kisses down the column of your throat. “What’s wrong? Can’t hold back” he taunts. 

You shake your head, biting your lip hard enough to break the skin, but it’s no use. The building pressure is too much, the pleasures all too intense, and you can’t stop the strangled whimper that escapes you when he pulls out to the tip and slams right back in. 

Law chuckles at the noise, his breath fanning across your ear as he whispers, “Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy the idea of people knowing what we are doing.” His words are like gasoline and he is just tossing them right into the flames of your euphoria and you can’t help but clench around him at his words. He notices, deciding to push you further, “Oh? You really want to be caught, don’t you? Come on, let everyone out there know how good I’m making you feel.”

Before you can stop yourself, a loud, desperate, shameless moan slips past your lips. His name falls from your mouth again, louder this time, chanting it as if it were a prayer. Your resolve has officially cracked, hurdling you toward that blissful high that you so desperately crave.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses out, voice strained as his own control begins to slip. He thrusts into you harder, pace growing erratic, and you can feel him unraveling before you, his breath becoming faster, fingers of one hand digging into your thigh, while the other works on your clit, his movements faltering with each growing sentence. 

The small space, the overwhelming feeling of his body against yours, the struggle of trying to stay quiet- it all makes everything more intense, more desperate. Your body is trembling now, the pleasure building to a breaking point as you cling to him, your nails raking against his chest, threatening to rip his shirt, and you just can’t take it anymore. The moan that tears from your throat is loud and needy, and you just don’t care anymore who hears it. 

Law’s teeth nip at your collarbone as he grinds into you, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again until you are standing right on the edge, your whole body tensing as you finally fall over it. Your orgasm rips through you, your body convulsing as the pleasure floods every nerve. Your walls clench around him, gripping his cock with a desperate intensity, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as you ride your high. Your fingers dig into his shirt, knuckles turning white with the force of your grip, your head tilting back as a broken cry of his name spills from your lips. The sensation is nothing short of overwhelming with each pulse of your release so powerful that you feel you may just burst. Your body trembles beneath him as you gasp for air. 

And even though you’re lost in the haze of your one pleasure, you can feel the way Law’s body stiffens slightly, using all he has left to speed up before slamming into you one last time. His grip on you tightens and he groans your name in that voice that you’re sure to replay in your head later over and over again. His cock throbs inside of you, spilling hot and deep as his orgasm takes over, each pulse of his cock sending small aftershocks through your already trembling body as his cum fills you completely, the warmth spreading as he empties himself into you. 

The two of you just stay there only for a moment- forehead against forehead, heavy breathing, and despite the intensity of the moment, there's a lazy, satisfied smirk pulling at his lips. 

With a languid sigh, he pulls out of you and you can feel the slick, sticky trail of your combined release starting to slip from between your legs the moment he withdraws. He sets you down gently, but your legs are shaky and ready to give out beneath you at any given moment. You reach for his arm to steady yourself as you hastily fix your clothes alongside them, as you slip your underwear back into place, you feel the unmistakable warmth of his cum slowly dribbling down your thigh. Embarrassment floods your features as you go to wipe it away, but before you can clean yourself properly, Law is already pushing the door open and stepping back into the banquet as if nothing had happened. You blink, dazed, still trying to recover from the moment prior and the realization hits you- if the sounds you’d made together weren’t enough to give you away, the unmistakable sticky mess sliding down your thighs surely will.

[kenshiluvr]

pussy-drunk

kenshi takahashi, tomas vrbada, johnny cage (separate)/reader

summary: they can’t get enough of your cunt

tags: vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying/a little dacryphilia, pre-mk1 :3, aftercare

minors dni please

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

kenshi

kenshi hums softly beside you, feeling your fingers curl into his bicep. his inked fingers thrust in and out of your sopping cunt, your pants filling the darkness of your shared bedroom. he’s in the mood, but not for his own pleasure… for yours. the way your cunt squeezes his thick fingers, the way your thighs shake, he’s addicted to it. kenshi presses soft kisses to your cheek, whispering gentle words of encouragement. “c’mon, baby doll. gimme one more.” he whispers, voice raspy and and deep with tiredness. you whine, back arching off your side of the bed. “ken-“ you whimper, gasping as he tips you over the edge again, his fingers continuing to thrust into your cunt as you squirt around them; keeping up his fast pace just to hear you whine and keen. “ken, please..!” you beg, tears collecting on your lower lashes, body writhing with overstimulation. “shhh…” he whispers, kissing those pretty tears away. “god, you’re gorgeous.” he whispers, groaning softly as more of your juices thickly coat his fingers. “ken..!” you whine, feeling his lips kiss the tears away. “one more.” kenshi murmurs, propping himself up on his elbow, watching you gasp, watching your eyebrows knit together.

a loud, long whine escapes your lips, fingers digging into his tattooed arm, gasping and whining. you’re a mess beneath him, all because of his fingers… and he loves it. kenshi sighs, a smile on his face. “you’re so pretty, baby girl.” he mutters, pressing a long kiss to your cheek. “give me one more. just one more.” he whispers against your skin, keeping his face against your cheek as you sob with overstimulated pleasure. there’s no doubt your neighbours could hear your whines, he doesn’t care though. curling his fingers up, kenshi prods your g-spot, watching you come undone again. you cry out, sobbing and squirming beneath him. “shhh-shhh… that’s it, baby. isn’t that better?” kenshi croons, kissing your tears away. “that’s my good girl.” with that, he pulls his fingers from your abused cunt, licking his digits clean. “that’s my amazing girlfriend.” he whispers, kissing you gently. “shh… how about a bath before bed. get you all relaxed and cleaned up, hm?” kenshi smiles, getting up. lifting you into strong arms, he carries your shivering, sensitive body to the bathroom, ready to give you all the aftercare you deserve.

—

tomas

your boyfriend pants, face buried to your wet folds. he whines and whimpers with pleasure, moaning against your cunt as he laps at you like a hungry dog. tomas groans, nose nudging your clit occasionally, tongue thrusting in and out of your pussy, slurping and sucking. “please… please, moje láska. i need it.” he whines against your swollen pussy lips, his harsh tongue dragging up to your clit. his lips wrap around the bud, sucking desperately. “tommy-“ you whine and shiver, fingers curling into silver hair as he moans, the vibrations of it running straight through you as you gasp loudly. “more. more, prosím.” tomas pants against your fevered skin.

tongue diving back into your juicy cunt, your head falls back against the headboard, moaning loudly as he continues to eat you out. tomas mewls with neediness, panting against your pussy like a man in heat. his cock is hard and throbbing just from eating you out, precum leaking through his boxers. he’s twitching and sensitive, tip flushed red; pleasured just from licking your cunt. tomas moans, fingers digging into your soft hips, pulling you closer to his face. as you cum, tomas gasps and moans, lapping it all up. “yes- yes….” he sighs with pleasure, licking up all the juices that smear his lips and chin. he can’t get enough of your pretty pussy, and it seems he’s going to be between your plush thighs for a long time.

—

johnny

your boyfriend grunts, hips slamming into yours again, groaning into the crook of your neck. “that’s it, that’s it…” he pants, sultry voice thick like honey. “come on, baby… come on, baby- cum for me.” johnny growls out, his cock hammering into your cunt. your fingers curl into broad shoulders, scratching red lines down perfect skin. “mhm… that’s why i have a stunt-double.” johnny grins against your skin, listening to your borderline pornographic moans as he fucks you hard and fast on the plush sheets of his bed. sitting up, he grips your thighs, hips still fucking into yours. “mhm… so pretty.” he grins, watching his cock disappear into your sopping cunt.

he’d been fucking you for so long, made you cum so many times, that his cock had creamy rings wrapped around it, like a pretty coat of makeup. johnny groans. he was getting sensitive too, by now… but he couldn’t pull out now. “come on… one more.” he coaxes, calloused fingers moving between your soft thighs to rub your clit. “johnny!” you gasp, cumming around his thick cock. “mhm… that’s it, sugar.” johnny chuckles, moaning at the feeling of your sensitive walls spasming around his shaft. “that’s it. fuck, you’re beautiful.” johnny pants, hips hammering into yours. snapping a few pictures of you like this, all fucked out on his bed, he smiles. recording little snippets and taking pictures of how he fucks you, he knows full well he’d entertain himself with these little things when he’s away from you; probably when he’s in his dressing room, thinking of you.

“come on, sugar. surely you got more for me.” johnny chuckles, tossing his phone onto the pillow beside your head. “johnny..!” you moan out. “that’s the ticket.” your boyfriend croons, leaning down to suckle a mark onto your pretty throat. johnny leans up, eyes catching sight of a mirror nearby, winking at himself. your fingers grasp his jaw, bringing his eyes back down to you. “eyes on me, cage.” you murmur, nipping his lips as you moan. “of course, sugar.” johnny mutters, grinning against your lips as he speeds his hips up; fucking you hard and fast, just how you love it. he’d do anything for you.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, tattoo artist!Bakugo, p in v smut, creampie, fingering, pussy spanking, cunnilingus, f!reader

Synopsis: since the tattoo you opted for proved to be quite painful, your boyfriend and tattoo artist, Bakugo, decided to pamper you for being brave and enduring the discomfort

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Katsuki, with his chiseled jaw and muscular arms, was the most sought-after tattoo artist in town. His reputation for creating breathtaking masterpieces on skin was only surpassed by his smoldering gaze and irresistible charm.

You, his girlfriend, felt incredibly lucky to have him.

The day arrived when you decided to get inked. You knew Katsuki would take care of you, and the thought of his skilled hands and passionate eyes devoted to your body made you quiver with anticipation, even though you two slept together many times already. The design was chosen – a delicate, intricate flower to adorn your pubis.

As you lay on his tattoo chair, Katsuki's hands traced the outline of the flower on your skin. His proximity was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but feel a shiver of pleasure as the needle touched your skin. The sensation was unique, a blend of pain and pleasure that Katsuki soothed with his tender touch and comforting whispers.

But the pain intensified as he filled in the petals of the rose, and you whimpered, clutching the armrest of the chair tightly. Katsuki paused, locking eyes with you, his gaze filled with concern. "Baby, you're doing great," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your tummy.

After he completed the tattoo, Katsuki ordered you to take a break and relax when he placed the tattoo gun down and prepared a special soap and a paper towel. With gentlest touches, Katsuki cleaned your tattoo, preparing it to be wrapped once it would be fully dry. He then pushed your leggins and panties fully down your legs, leant forward, gently parting your thighs. His touch was warm, and you gasped as he traced his fingers along the newly inked area, teasing your sensitive skin.

"You're so brave, you know that?" he murmured, peppering your inner thigh with kisses. His lips were soft, igniting a fire within you. "Let me take care of you now for being such a brave girl, hmmm?"

Katsuki teased you, blowing gently on your sensitive skin, making you squirm and gasp. Soon, his tongue darted out, tracing your slit. Then, without warning, he slapped your pussy.

You moaned as the sensation sent shockwaves through your body. "Kats!"

Katsuki's hands held your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he feasted on your pussy. His moans of pleasure reverberated against your skin, fueling your own desire. The blonde haired man buried his face in your pussy, his tongue seeking out your swollen clit once more. He sucked and nibbled your slick fold, growling like an animal.

You could feel the tension from the pain dissipate, replaced by an all-consuming passion. "Yes, Katsuki, just like that," you begged, your voice wavering.

He growled in response, his tongue delving deeper, swirling around your clit as his crimson eyes locked on yours as he sucked your lips into his mouth, shaking his head left to right to create the friction you craved so badly.

You writhed, unable to control the waves of pleasure crashing over you. You cried out as you reached your peak, your orgasm ripping through every inch of your body as your pussy clenched painfully around nothing, leaving you in need. "Oh, tiger!"

Katsuki didn't relent, his tongue lapping up your release. He looked up at you, his lips glistening with your wetness. "You taste so fucking good, baby," he growled, his eyes dark with lust. He slid a finger inside you, feeling your slick warmth, then added a second. He began to fuck you with his fingers, while his tongue continued to work its magic on your little clit. Katsuki increased his pace, his fingers sliding in and out of you with ease. He curled them, searching for that elusive spot that would send you over the edge yet again.

When he found it, your back arched off the chair, and a keening wail escaped your parted lips. You reached down, threading your fingers through his ash-blonde hair, pulling him closer. "I need you inside me," you demanded, your voice husky.

Katsuki grinned, pulling his fingers out of you and slowly licking them clean while standing up to unzip his tight jeans. He pushed his pants and boxed briefs down his legs, just under the curve of his ass so he could freed his fat cock, which sprung up, resting proudly against his abdomen. He entered you slowly, savoring the moment.

You gasped as he filled you, your bodies melding together.

The rhythm was intense, a primal dance that left you breathless. Katsuki's moans filled the room, punctuated by the slapping of skin against skin. "Fuck, you feel so good, babe," he grunted, his thrusts becoming faster, harder.

You wrapped your leg around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Your moans melded with his, creating a symphony of pleasure. "Yes, holy shit!"

The pleasure mounted, and you cried out as you came again, your release triggering Katsuki's.

He groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he emptied his heavy balls into you. Breathless, Katsuki lowered himself onto you, his head resting on your chest as his cock was still buried in your pussy.

You ran your fingers through his hair, savoring the moment. "I love you," you whispered, your voice shaky. "Thank you for tattooing me."

Bakugo withdrew, watching as his cum mixed with your juices, spilling out of your pussy and onto the chair beneath you. He leaned down, his tongue tracing a path from your pussy to your clit, tasting the mixture of your lovemaking. "I love you too, baby," Katsuki replied, a smile in his voice. "Oi! Babe, I wouldn't let anyone else tattoo you in such an intimate spot, you know that. No one else can watch your pussy but me."

[nyctophiliq]

✮ ┆ SUCKING HER TITS. ada wong, claire redfield, jill valentine

— “I wonder what has you so riled up.” content warnings.               mdni, nsfw content, breast/nipple play, breast worship, fingering, grinding, use of petnames

author’s note.                 omg enforcermoss is posting again??? after promising fics they are surprisingly back into business and actually posting something??? yeah, I am so enjoy :)

✮ ada ;

sucking ada’s breasts weren’t always a gift, most of the times it was a way to shut you up because after a tiring day at the council she wished for nothing but your company and silence, which was challenging to achieve. she truly adored you, everything about you was her favorite thing, but if her kissing you until you ran out of breath wasn’t going to shut you up then your mouth stuffed with her breasts surely would. not that you ever caught up on all this.

so, there was no surprises why you were here, a small hum leaving you as ada pulls you on her lap, palming your chubby cheeks as your kiss swollen lips latch onto her chest. you nip the pink nub, gently tugging with your teeth, biting down ever so slightly on it just to hear a few of her little praises. you suck it, cheeks hollowing before letting the pink flesh go with a quiet pop. your free hand massaging the other mound, squeezing harder little by little to feel more of the fat ooze between your fingers.

one thing to know about ada’s breasts were that they often felt sore, the long hours spent in her corsets and bras, tits squished half their size to fit into those elegant dresses she loved so much. it was unsurprising when her breath hitched, gripping on the fabric on your back as she leans back in on the arm rest of the couch. your hazy gaze meets her arousal coated one, her thighs clenching when you grope both of her breast at the same time, leaving crescent shaped bruises. ada lets out a sigh as your tongue runs over the burning marks, head falling onto your shoulder with another low moan.

“ah- that’s a pretty mouth put to good use.” ada murmured as her hands danced along your spine before digging through the roots of your hair, kneading your scalp, and playfully pulling you off of her nipple. watching your little desperate act of trying to fill your mouth with her chest again, she lets go of your head and wraps her arms around you, her head falling back against the chair.

✮ jill ;

“need something?”

there weas a slight tease in jill’s voice, putting down her black ink pen and pushing aside the papers she was filling out after a smaller mission and looked down at you. straightening your posture in her lap you start to babble some sort of response, it was entertaining to watch you try to keep your composure while squirming on her fingers. she watched your eyes roll back as you came, and adorable little cry escaping your before falling against her.

“I’m… I,” you tug her clothes, crying out and try to beg but your mind is so foggy, too weak to even form words. but you shouldn’t worry, jill knows exactly what you want, do you think she hasn’t noticed? you gnawing your fingers, dipping your fingertips into your mouth while she pumped hers in and out of you? she sucks her teeth before pulling her fingers out of your pussy, offering it to you like it was the finest piece of cake in all of raccoon city and it’s a sigh to see you wrap your lips around them, feeling your tongue swirling.

this was just to keep you occupied and stuffed as she tugs her shirt out of her pants, freeing her breasts for you to enjoy.

“go on, don’t be shy honey.” she whispered into your ear as she pulled her fingers out of your mouth and reached to wipe them in the little cloth set on the corner of her desk. you latch on her nipple right away, hungrily sucking and nibbling on it. a sigh leaves jill’s lips, toes curling in her boots when you bite the sensitive flesh, tongue brushing over it soon after to take care of the vicious ache. she throws back her head, groaning shamelessly as you hollow your cheeks around her nipple.

your drool covered jill’s nipple, humming pleasantly against the soft flesh when you hear her heated breaths and snuffed moans. your hand came up to cup the underside of the tit that was currently filling your mouth, squeezing it the slightest before letting it go with a pop. it takes a second for you to get your breath back, staring at her slightly reddened areola before switching to the other breast and give it the same loving treatment.

“that’s good, just like that princess.”

✮ claire ;

you’re so confused when she draws you onto her lap and pulls her shirt up, taking your hand in hers and puts it over her exposed breast. her fingers guided the pad of your thumb to caress the fleshy nub, back and forth, gently pushing down on it and when she lets go of your hand she tucks your hair behind your ear.

“what if we try this now, hm?” claire asks and you nod, gulping slightly before dipping your head, sticking out your tongue and licking one of her nipple. you go further and lightly suck on it, feeling it get stiffer under your lips and hearing claire coo as it did. your hand moved upwards the slightest, pushing claire’s breast up along with your movement, continuing to lap at her nipple as you spread your legs the slightest, pressing yourself against claire through your shorts.

she grins as you do so, enjoying every second of the texture of your tongue pressing against her stiffened nub. she can feel herself getting wet, chuckling as she drags your tongue over her nipple before closing your lips around it and sucking gently. it’s obscene how good it feels, your mouth attached to her breast, making her hands shake and legs shake a little.

your free hand comes up to her other breast, jiggling and squeezing it before pinching the nipple between your fingers before opting to roll it between two of your fingers. claire shuddered in pleasure at the harsh touch and as the tip of your tongue circled her areola. when you felt that her nipple was firm enough you pulled away, pressing slight kisses against the pink flesh before sucking bruises into the pale skin of her chest.

“keep going, you are doing so good sweetness.”

[shukraastro]

Planets & Nakshatras observation on looks and traits

(applicable for spouse analysis)

Mars ruled Nakshatras: Mrigashira, Chitra, Dhanishta

The skin will have a pinkish/reddish undertone.

They can have cuts/scars/marks on the face (representing their fighting spirit).

Men are prone to anger issues (except for Chitra, cuz it lies in Libra, so they have good controle over their anger)

Women are usually restless or even anxious (especially in Virgo Chitra).

Saturn ruled Nakshatras: Pushya, Anuradha, Uttara Bhadrapada

If Moon is in these Nakshatras then women can be seen wearing corsettes/shapewear or very tight clothes often, bcuz Saturn represents restrictions.

Saturn also represents ink and metals and in these Nakshatras a person can have tattoos and piercings, but a trigger planet for that would be Mars bcuz Mars rules over wounds and cuts. So Mars in these Nakshatras can very likely result in tattoos and piercings.

Purva Bhadrapada Nakshatra:

If you go back to my previous posts you will find about the foot injury trait of Purva Bhadrapada. I have seen this play out so many times that this Nakshatra will give some type of foot injuries, and prominently on the left foot. Justin Bieber has the planet Sun placed in his 7th house in the D9 chart and it is in the Nakshatra of Purva Bhadrapada. Sun is linked to performing arts, Hailey used to dance Ballet until she injured her left foot. You see how planets in Nakshatras inside the 7th house of the Navamsa can play out.

Also another thing I have noticed in this Nakshatra is the lip shape, they can have a pouty rectangular shaped lower lip. And women here somehow give off "island girl" vibes.

They can also have precognitive dreams, because they are very in tune with their higher self.

Rohini Nakshatra:

They love to wear oversized, baggy clothes and quality materials, because of Moon's influence, they love comfort. On the other hand they may also love to display their appealing physique.

They also love branded luxury items: cars, watches, clothes, perfumes. And they love food a lot, they can eat a lot (with Saturn influence they can be cautious and go on diets).

Also after eating food they will get tired, because of the Venus and Moon influence.

And they will always end up having no fixed work schedule in their career.

They can also become the most achieving at a young age, compared to their workmates.

DK planet or 7th lord in Rohini can give a spouse with sining and dancing abilities, Hailey Bieber has Moon DK/7th lord of D9 in Rohini. (Planets like Sun, Moon, Mercury and Mars can give that as talents, Jupiter could make someone a teacher in that area and Saturn could give it as a career).

Moon influence:

Moon connected to any spouse placements or 7th house can give musical talents in the spouse.

Moon in the 7th house can also either give a cat like appearance to the spouse or a bunny like appearance. Both animals are symbolically connected to Moon, cats are connected because of the hightened intuition and bunnies are connected by the chinese folklore of the moon goddess who's companion is the bunny/rabbit.

Mars influence:

Having Mars as DK/7th lord can indicate a spouse who might be a soldier/police/athlete just anything physical movement related.

Saturn in Rohini:

This combination can cause consumption of Whiskey to enhance creativity. A person will love to drink to feel relaxed and sing and dance. If Mercury influence is also there as well it can amplify this even more.

Saturn in Rohini can also result in dryness, skinnyness, lack of water in the body, dry/flaky skin and acne or other skin irritations. But therefor a person will be very disciplined in following a quality skin care rountine.

Ketu Ruled Nakshatras: Ashwini, Magha, Mula

Will have out-of-body experiences/precognitive dreams/sleep paralysis

They can be very interested in ancient history/culture/scriptures. They're all about the past and the root of things. They may love to dig under the ground, that's why Magha especially can make someone an archeologist or historian or even a teacher.

Also Magha is strongly connected with royalty/royal lineage. They may not be considered a royalty but counting a number of generations back, their ancestors might have been powerful individuals.

In these Nakshatras a person will let their hair grow out. Because hair is linked with roots. And Ketu is all about the roots, because it's the tail of the dragon, the tail represents the underground while Rahu, the head of the dragon represents the sky. So Ketu ruled Nakshatras will keep their hair long, it makes them feel spiritually connected to their past lives. There is something they cannot let go of from their past lives.

Revati Nakshatra:

Another Nakshatra which is connected to royal lineage. (same as Magha here also).

If a man has his DK/7th lord/Venus in this Nakshatra, his wife can be taller than him.

They love to travel and their travel journeys will be comfortable, without any kind of major complications.

They will also be very successful outside of their home country.

With Venus here, a person will find their spouse in a foreign country or move to a foreign country after marriage for their spouse. The spouse can also be someone who travels a lot or is successful overseas. Or a person will travel a lot with their spouse.

Rohini, Mrigashira & Ashlesha Nakshatra (snake yoni or symbol):

As the Ascendant/DK/7th lord/Venus natives will always attract strong Rahuvian people.

They have very intense and hypnotic eyes. Either dark and big or bright and slender. If their eye color is dark they may tend to wear light colored contacts, which can give their eyes a snake like appearance.

Ashleshas will be lisping.

Swati Nakshatra:

They can jump very high and run very fast, they love being in the air/speeding through the air, because the deity is Vayu, he rules over the air (Rahu ruled Nakshatra-Sky connection).

Venus in Swati can make a person have a love for the sky in a creative way, also can give singing abilities, because music is carried through the air, they can also have a love for good sports shoes (for jumping) or high platform shoes (Venus-fashion & Rahu heights). But these can also apply to the spouse, because Venus generally represents the spouse.

Swati can make a person be a fanatic for extreme sports related to heights like mountain climbing, bungee jumping and sky diving. Mars and Venus here can also make a person practice martial arts.

Also they just can't stay still, they are always moving, and can't keep still for a second. They look like they can jump off any second.

I will do more of these observations for the other Nakshatras that are left.

Thanks for reading🌺

[star2fishmeg]

luke massaging the tattoo while fucking you and asking you to tell him that you’re all his

"Say it again, babe," he grins, thumb firmly circling over the ink on your bikini line, watching himself draw out and rut back into you. "Who do you belong to?"

You grip the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as your jaw hangs open, mind fogged from a bliss ecstasy as his thrusts become faster and vulgar, sweat dripping down Luke's temples and the spot where your tattoo lies most definitely bruised from the way he's been massaging it for the past hour. He's had you in all sorts of positions, soaking up the way you cry out his name every time he brings you closer to release.

"You, Lu!" You cry out a lecherous moan, "All yours!"

Warmth spreads through his chest, the '43' under his thumb and his gorgeous girlfriend underneath him, screaming out his name, the perfect harmony, the highlight of his day as his hips become sloppy. He dips down, biceps steadying on either side of your head and his lips meeting yours for a fervent kiss, tongue licking into your mouth, pulling husky groans from his throat and he feels like he's in heaven when you grasp onto his back and drag your nails across his skin. He can't wait for practice, showing off the red claw marks, showing his teammates who fucks you good, whose name rolls off your tongue.

"Who?" he grunts and you feel his coy smirk against your skin, right before his teeth nip at the flesh on your neck.

"Luke Hughes," you whimper, his cock hitting your cervix roughly as you chant his name like a prayer, "Luke, Luke, you, Lu!"

"Damn fuckin' right."

[running-with-kn1ves]

Can you make something for a yandere masochist? Smut please

A/N: Working on all the reqs in my inbox, I just don't have much time to write! No pressure but donations always help if yall want your requests written faster!

CW: Noncon/Dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, threats, Sub! Masochistic yandere, aggressive-ish reader, NSFW

Synopsis: You find yourself kidnapped by your shy boyfriend who claims he's going to "take care of you."

Word Count: 3000 -- Tags ^^: @moonlight-melanin

If someone had told you that your meek nerd of a boyfriend would be the one to ever kidnap you, you probably would have laughed in their face. Your boyfriend who trips over every sidewalk crack? Your boyfriend who needs your help opening a water bottle? Your boyfriend, who begs for you to wrap your hand around his neck and worships the ground you walk on, no matter how hard you protest?

 No way in hell. 

Except, the utter blasphemy that was such an idea, was true. It was only a few nights ago that you found yourself bound by your hands and feet to a familiar bed. Your boyfriend, Rex, vaguely explained that he was "protecting you", and "keeping you away from bad people!” 

You came to the conclusion that the harm that he was supposedly protecting you from, was most likely your overly friendly coworkers and demanding job. Who knew a 9 to 5 could be so dangerous? Clearly your boyfriend. However, his ridiculous behavior didn’t falter no matter how many times you tried to convince him, no matter how many threats or bribes you threw his way. 

Sometimes he’d be nearly swayed, but something in his mind always snapped back, telling you that its alright if you despise him, if you follow out with your threats; as long, as he got to keep you safe. 

For how obedient and eager to please he was, you never realized how stubborn he could be. But unfortunately for what he had in stubbornness, he lacked in wit and authority. He always fell into your hands when it came to you offering physical affection as a secretive ploy to try and escape; not to mention, he wasn’t very good at keeping his hostages tied up.

By the third night of your capture, you managed to slip your moist hands out of the loose, steel handcuffs. Digging an old pen into the large hole of the chain cuff wrapped around your ankle, you wiggled it around to find that sweet spot that would release you. You were grateful for being able to reach the bedside drawer, finding a multitude of tools within it that helped you including the pen that was once yours, and some lotion that made your palms slick enough to slip out of the handcuffs. While you were grateful for their presence nearby, you didn’t want to know why they were close to the bed in the first place. 

You continued to roughly wiggle the pen, not hearing any clicks or cracks within the lock that would signify your release. The chain around your ankle wouldn't budge at all. At some point along the way with all your jamming of it into the lock’s hole, the pen got stuck. 

“No no no,” You whispered, trying to tug the pen out. You pulled as hard as you could, to no avail as ink began to stain your fingers. 

Well, your kidnapper would certainly notice that. 

You looked around, feeling incredibly anxious now that you were only halfway free, aware that it'd be unlikely that you got to keep this little escape trial to yourself. Though, the freedom of your hands made you feel more powerful than you had in days.

But the quick and excited footsteps outside of the bedroom door made your stomach sink. They drew closer, only stopping to fill the silence with a rapid knock to the door. Beads of sweat rolled down your neck as your dry mouth swallowed; with shaking fingers, you covered up your hands and feet under the bed comforter. 

‘Just keep them under the blanket, and he won’t notice…’

The door opened shortly after the knock, not waiting for you to respond. In came your Rex, your boyfriend-slash-kidnapper. He clammed up with a tenseness as you scowled. You brought back your signature glare that you looked at him with during the days of your capture; he seemed to shrink into himself as you didn't break eye contact. 

"Did… you like dinner? He asked, looking at your plate on the bedside table. Eyeing the plate with a frown, Rex shut the door behind him. He walked closer to your place on the bed, inspecting the plate. 

"You've hardly eaten anything since…"

"Since you kidnapped me?"

He went silent. Avoiding your judgemental stare.

"You know I'm just trying to keep you safe…" He said meekly, not fond of your cold behavior. 

"I don't want to talk, Rex. Just leave." You snarl.

 Folding your arms you turn away and focus your attention on the setting sun outside the window, reminding you that once again you'll be here for another night… another day here when you wake up. 

Rex sits down on the bed next to you, his mop of curly black hair covering his desperate face. He wouldn't be able to take it if you played the silent treatment with him-- even when you were angry like this, he'd rather suffer your wrath than hear the empty silence of his endless thoughts, keeping your sweet lips shut so tightly. 

"Please," he gripped the blankets atop your legs, trying to find a place to touch you. "I'm just doing what a boyfriend should do, don’t you get that? Why can't you understand me?"

You continued to stay silent, hearing Rex gulp as he realized you were serious in keeping your mouth shut. 

He began to grow antsy… there was a feeling of isolation in how he couldn't see all of your face as you kept your gaze to the window, how he couldn't even hold your hand or see your body beneath the mass of blanket. 

"Come on, don’t be like that…” 

Rex rolled his tongue over his teeth, gripping harder onto the sheets. His hand shakes as it reaches for yours, desperately hoping you wouldn’t tug away. 

Once he feels your arm go limp, he wastes no time in bringing it up to his cheek, hoping to feel some sort of warmth from you. Rex presses his cheek into your fingers, finding a sliver of relief in how warm and tender you feel against him. He’s hardly had the luxury of such affection since you were huddled up in his apartment. 

You don’t dare to look at the man, debating whether interrupting him or continuing to let him nuzzle would alert him faster on the fact that your handcuffs were gone. 

You didn’t have much time to think when you suddenly felt him go still, a newfound grip on your hand. He squeezed with thick fingers, the lovelust gone from his touch.

You turn to look at Rex, finding that you could not see his eyes beneath his hair and shadowed glasses. He shifted from crushing your fingers to choking your wrist, panic setting into your body. 

Rex looked up, far more quiet than you were expecting. You began to twist your arm, trying to pull it away as he bore into you. You knew the guy was odd when you first started dating, and was clearly deranged after this kidnapping fiasco-- but you never saw it clearer until now. His eyes seemed to sink into his skin as his face drained of all color. He looked almost sick, like someone hungry to hurt without any remorse. Rex’s blunt nails dug into your skin as you started to tug away roughly; his hunched body was like a feral animal ready to strike. 

Seeing as he already found out about your escape attempt, you decided it wasn’t worth wasting this chance. Maybe you could knock him down a few before he managed to get you chained up again, giving you more time before he did who knows what. 

“These arms are awfully bare.” His monotonous voice uttered. 

Rex pressed on the bruises on your wrist of where the handcuffs dug into, his eyes glazing over as you grunted in pain. Still, you fought. You brought your other arm to try and pull off his fingers, only for Rex to shift on the bed and force himself upon you. His sharp knees dug into the sides of your thighs, pulling your other arm off of him as he laid them both beside your head, against the pillows. For being quite frail and shy, he had far more strength in his desperation than you expected. You could see that he was giving his all, only tearing up momentarily when your fingers scratch him or your elbow rams into his nose. 

Within the tussle Rex managed to find the handcuffs, of which you only hid underneath the blankets beside you. Every time you tried to heighten your knees to push him off, Rex pressed deeper, bruising your skin and making you bite your lip in frustration and pain. His loose clothes and your mess of blankets made it hard to find a grip in pushing him off.

Rex pulled the cuffs up, shakily and forcefully wrapping them upon your wrists. Pulling them over the bedpost, he watched as you struggled to get out of them. But he didn’t look down at you with a smirk or a sadistic grin-- Instead, it appeared to be relief. 

Your boyfriend lowered himself to your chest as he went limp, his previous expression void of emotion except for stunned shock, shifted to a tired, nervous frown. 

“I-I don’t do this because I want to, you know.” You burn holes into him with your glare, straining to pull the cuff chain over the bedpost as Rex sat on your torso. “You don’t give me a choice!”

His loose shirt showed the front of his collarbones and the elongated muscles in his neck, the male gulping as he looked guiltily down at your chest. You were sweating from the fear and strain against the tightened metal binds. 

“Fuck off.” You grunt, continuing to tug and pull away from your tethers. 

Rex seemed to get antsy at watching you try to struggle and claw at him. His hips twitched as he moved to sit on your legs, trying to keep you from kicking him off. 

“But…If you keep pulling like that, your bruises will only get worse.” 

“I don’t give a shit.” You snapped, hardly letting him finish. Spitting towards him you continued to fight; that only seemed to spur Rex on. 

He wiggled against your hips, looking down away from you in embarrassment. the male beginning to hold your knees down, his legs wrapped around your left thigh. 

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us…” He huffed, laying his head down on your chest, and holding onto you. 

“Rex!” You shout angrily at his innaction, trying to knee him as you pushed away from the headboard. 

“I know, I know!” You could feel the hardness inbetween his legs press against your thigh. “You can hate me if you want, can hurt me if it makes you feel better,” He meekly bit his lip with a little grunt, hesitating for a moment before he pushed his hips against your thigh. “But I can’t let you leave.”

Seeing as your struggle didn’t impede his movements, Rex slowly rocked himself against you to apply pressure. He relished in how your knee came up to grace his crotch in a stinging pleasure. You may have done it in an attempt to push him off, but all it managed to do was further Rex’s desire for your brashness, and you.

“I’m yours…” He huffed, pushing his face into the warmth of your chest. His crotch aligned with your hip, adding a new sensation as he humped like a touch-starved, horny animal. “Im yours, I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m--ngh--” 

 Rex bit the collar of your shirt to stop from crying out, his moan muffled into your body as he rocked at a rhythm. In a mix of huffs he lifted his head to search for your eyes and lips. He reached up to collide his lips with yours, pressing his knee between your legs, spreading them just gently. His hands traveled down your chest slowly, hesitantly. He was always waiting for your next move, always soaking in every touch and taste of you that he could. 

You pushed against his lips, turning and ripping your mouth away. 

“I know you want to leave, but maybe I can change your mind,” He looked at you with lovestruck eyes, a growing pleasure within them. “Maybe make you feel good. I’m atleast good at that, right?” He shyly palmed at your crotch, determined and eager to make you cry out in the same desire he was swelling in. 

He just wanted your eyes to be on him. 

Rex continued to grind himself deeper into your upper thigh, wrapping his legs around your side. He released a little pant while traveling cold fingers down your chest, pulling up your shirt to expose your stomach. Reaching between your legs, he licked his lips in anticipation, cupping your sex with his hand ever so gently. 

Shutting his lips he tried to suppress his evident moans, pushing his lips against yours as he begged for an ounce of affection. You in turn, bit his bottom lip in retaliation, pressing up against to get a good clench on his mouth. You hoped it’d be enough to get him off of you, but instead Rex pressed harder, grunting in pained pleasure as he welcomed the ache. The taste of blood was left in your mouth, Rex still leaving sloppy kisses along your nipping lips, drooling as he pushed his slick tongue in your mouth, rubbing it against yours. His glasses seemed to shift downward, making him look even more of a mess.

Even as you pulled at his hair from your restraint position, Rex let out a surprised yelping groan, humping harder into your leg at the newfound pain. 

“Please, I promise to be good…” He begs between wet, one-sided kisses. “ I’ll do whatever you w…want…!” Rex hieghtened his voice with a desperate groan, showing he was close to his climax. 

His frenzied pleas showed the familiar side of the boyfriend you remembered before he kidnapped you: quiet, clingy, and too infatuated for his own good.

You could feel a wet spot of leaked pre-cum on your thigh, Rex’s hand delving under your now unbuttoned pants. 

He was quick to palm your crotch from beneath your underwear, gripping and massaging as he chased his own high, fixated on your scrunched up expression. 

His slightly open mouth drooled against your shirt as he looked up at you, desperate for you to reciprocate some kind of affection or attention. 

Rex’s expression showed he was completely enamored in the moment, with glazed over eyes and a eagerness in his thrusts as his mind solely focused on the pleasure between his weak thighs and getting something-- anything, from you. 

“You’re disgusting.” You say bitterly, grabbing Rex’s hair in another attempt to get him off of you and ruin his high. However, that did neither. 

Rex looked even more turned on, letting out painful moans at feeling you tug multiple times.

“Yes.. hah, please-- use me, do what you want--” You bit down on his shoulder as he pressed the rest of his weight down on you, leaning up to the feeling of your fingers tug. “I love you, ‘love you so much..” 

You demand him to look at you with a tug of his black curls, a small line of blood staining your lips from the hard bite you gave. 

Rex obeyed with pleasure-drunken fervor, drawing the end of his high as he witnessed his blood in your mouth. 

A part of him would always be inside you.

Rex buried his head into your neck as he orgasmed, thrusting hard up against your leg like a rabbit during mating season. Letting out a continuation of unabashed moans, his teeth bit your T-shirt as cum spilled from his release. 

In the moment, Rex had sped up his movements in pleasuring you, digging beneath your underwear to feel the heat of your sex against his hand, leaving you quite dazed yourself, You managed to hid your reaction quite well as Rex was too focused to notice, but now that seemed to shift as he began to relax. 

Rex’s pulsing touch on your crotch slowled as his breathing regulated. Though it became more difficult for you to keep your mouth shut and your face straight as he repeatedly put his thumb against the right set of nerves. 

Your boyfriend’s breath steadied as he watched you release a hitched sigh from your mouth, enjoying the way you looked at him with a dazed glare. Covered in sweat and cum, he was beginning to come down from the high he ached to feel once again. 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” He panted, face flushed and glasses falling to the tip of his nose. “ Was s’pposed to be convincing you, but I got ahead of myself…”

Rex swallowed, adjusting his glasses with the tips of his finger. The male began to quickly fondle beneath your jeans once again, ignoring how you still pushed against the headboard and cried out in frustration. He was slow at first, trying to regain the rhythm; it didn’t take long for him to find that tempo that made your knees weak. 

You felt a numbed pleasure stir between your thighs against your will, trying to toss and turn to make it go away. 

But Rex held you still, planting his weight down on your chest and stroking your heat with skill. He had touched himself so many times to pictures and thoughts of you, but he never imagined this. Even as you scrunched up your face in frustration and annoyance, he saw your teeth scrape at your lip, your hips twitching and your groans drawing out longer than before. 

You desperately clawed at your restraints, avoiding Rex’s hot and heavy stare, of which was so entranced in watching your sweet face change every time a wave of pleasure overcame you. You felt so defeated in the fact that he could tell you were feeling the effects of his touch, how you weren’t completely focused on the idea of escape anymore. 

“M’gonna make you feel so good,” Rex grinned, hazed with the afterglow of his pleasureful release and soaking up the look of undesired arousal in your eyes. 

“Just promise not to give your pleasure, your pain, to anyone else…”

[pricetagged]

Part 2 of that wifehunter john piece instead of working on my wips 💖

Part One

Warnings: implied stalking and voyeurism. Nothing too bad...yet.

Unedited, typed on my phone during break, abrupt ending (part 3 ig?)

_________________

He thumbs at the book, tracing the swirls of your penmanship until the ink fades off and the paper turns to felt. It leaves his fingertips stained, dark as indian ink, and he can't help the satisfied burr that catches his breath as he presses the sticky whorls of his prints into the pages.

Stained. Blackened.

Imprinted.

It's what he wants to do to you in something more indelible than ink, something that would burrow under your skin and linger. (This parasitic desire, he'll bury it in you, make you feel his presence deep in your guts, squirming and wriggling at the back of your mind-)

Of course he returns the book. Returns it to you marked and dogeared and of course you're grateful for it. Tripping over your words and choking on the thanks that build up and tumble from your delicate throat, feelings and words too big for you. 

He knows that, sees the slight hesitance in your eyes as they flit to the window where he knows your useless Buck is ambling about. Shambling. (This marriage is a sham, his claim on you is a sham, one that John is more than willing to seize upon and squeeze until it all crumbles and all that is left is you malleable and soft in his hands).

"Where...where did you find this? I thought-" He sees how you choke down condemnations, not wanting to crack open that door that leaves your husband exposed.

Is it loyalty? Obedience?

Whatever it is, he wants it. Wants to redirect it his way. It itches at him, sits awkwardly like a broken seam, seeing you waste this fidelity on something still wet behind the ears.

On a man who can't even protect his own home, can't even cherish his own wife and has to call John in to pick up the mantle-

"It's good work. Shouldn't leave it lying around, sweetheart," he raps against the front cover, needs to do something with his hands before the impulses take over and he does something hasty. Something that would send you darting back to your husband's arms instead of in to his. "Would be a real waste if it got lost. Taught me how to transplant herbs, now I've got some parsley on my windowsill that's still alive."

It's a lie. He must have strangled the roots, harvested it too soon, something-

But it makes you happy. He can see the glow that warms your cheeks and brightens your eyes. They way your face plumps up, softens, due to your shy smile.

"You should've tried mint, first. It grows like crazy, basically does its own thing. Basil, too." You're grinning, in your element out here. Surrounded by green and the rich, earthy scent of the soil that you till. Geosmin. Oakmoss.

"I'll have to get you over to show me sometime."

He plays gallant so well, offering to help you with the weeding and trimming. It wouldn't be the first time he got down into the muck and the mire. Wouldn't be the first time he stuck his hands in, got them caked and dirty right up to the elbow in order to get what he wants. In order to do what needs done. It's as familiar to him as the uniform he wears.

And your company makes it so much more pleasant.

You smile at him, glancing up from the flowerbeds each and every time he passes you a tool. Eventually you feel comfortable enough to call for him - John? - to tap at his wrist and redirect his hands around the roots and stems below you both. It's a beautiful symbiosis: you, who are so good at wringing life and he who is so good at taking it.

He catches the way the living room curtains twitch, the shadow of the young buck pacing and pawing just out of sight. Too much energy, not enough courage. Not seasoned enough to come out and plant himself between the challenger and his wife. It's stable vice, sending him spinning, uselessly watching as John sidles in and digs his paws into the very foundations of the house. It makes him smile, big and broad as he tugs at a particularly stubborn weed with a grunt.

And when you can't quite get the rubber of the yard gloves to slide over your wrist, he just has to help you. Has to grip at your soft forearm, cooing as you wince.

"Big pull, that's it sweetheart."

You brace yourself so well, pulling back in a counterweight that just digs his fingers in tighter. Blinking back tears, you laugh a little awkwardly. A little thrilled.

And you thank him for it, shaking your arm out and stretching your fingers. All damp from the soil and your sweat.

Unoticing uncaring of the ring that's no longer on your finger.

He has the urge to shake it out of the glove onto the dirt. To burry it and trample all over it until it's dull and forgotten and dead.

But -

But it's still warm from your hand.

It's so fragile, too small to fit properly over his thick fingers and swollen knuckles.

He thumbs at it on his drive home, plays with the smooth face and angled edges as he thinks.

He won't give it back, the thought draws a scoff as he signals into his driveway. No, the only way you're getting a ring from him is on the same day that the ink dries on your marriage license.

But there's the matter of that ugly possesive thing that lives in his ribcage, so close to the surface that the lines blur and shimmer until he's not sure which skin he's wearing. It has him feeling hot, burning up and itching to watch the fall out.

He settles on the settee, cigar in one hand and your wedding ring in the other.

It sits tight just barely at the first knuckle of his forefinger. The screen in front of him illuminates it, makes it glint cold and sharp as it moves lower and lower, over the slight give of his stomach until it reaches the bulge pressing into his zipper. He palms himself, hisses as he feels the metal dig in a little to the sensitive, aching flesh.

With another slow drag, he flicks open his fly and settles in.

Even the slight pixelation of the monitor can't disguise how pretty you are.

_________________________

Someone with a big brain please help me to name this haha 💖

Sorry for the delay. Been super demotivated lately. Still got several k of wips that need attention :/

[thehistoriangirl]

If You Hadn't Left (Me) [Chapter 2]

I live!!!

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----2.1K----SFW

// M A S T E R L I S T

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Synopsis:Viktor was never supposed to see you again, just like you had promised that evening when you both ended up heartbroken and bitter toward destiny and all its twisted ways. So twisted as to put you back into his life not only as a temporal working partner to cover Jayce’s absences, but also as the maid of honor in the wedding where he’ll be the best man. Hypothetically, it doesn’t have to be that difficult to find a way around the river of memories flowing between you both. Though, of course, hypotheses are flawed. Just like that part of him that still craves another ending to this story. 

Chapter Summary: People say things look better under a new light. But once you step inside Viktor's lab, Viktor discovers that the view isn't just striking, but also very troublesome.

Tags: Second Chance | Angst | Exes to Lovers | Denial of Feelings | Viktor's pinning | Reader is pissed | | Eventual Smut | Eventual Happy Ending |

Taglist: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @syren201 @slycazzz @jourlinemaktan @seraceres @m1dnight-artisan

Viktor was no stranger to sleepless nights.

Most of them could be excused by incessant workload lined up on his desk in the form of blueprints and pages filled with scribbles of ink where equations hadn’t resolved in a positive way.

It wasn’t about rushing thoughts of the future looming over his shoulder either; the time when his conscience whispered that he couldn’t be good enough. That he’d never be, as progress is a fleeting, moody thing.

What an unbreakable riddle were you. Your words haunted him; your kiss… soared his heart. Guiltily so; flown at the past he promised couldn’t revisit. And not only because digging out the tender flesh already buried would mean expose the wound again, risking of bleeding out.

I want to be the Interior Design’ Teacher at the Architecture Faculty.

He laid in his bed, covers barely thrown open, his mind filled with the million possibilities about the future, once hopeful and bright with all the new inventions he could create with Hextech, to the one where he had to walk carefully across campus to not take a glimpse of you passing by.

Get over it, get over it.

He wished it’d be so easy. Guilt gnawed at him, now already broken free from the depths of the drawer where he kept your photo. The ring he never gave you, that he’d been fool enough not to return. A treacherous mind he had, repeating old routines as his personal condemn.

Sighing, he incorporated at the edge of the bed. Pitch darkness looked back from every corner of the quiet room. His fingers grabbed the handle of his crutch, the familiar leather creaked under his unrelenting grasp once he hauled himself up.

He should have left right away, as he did when the strain in his muscles didn’t allow him any rest. But something stopped him.

His reflection in the mirror showed what he most tried to hide. Deep eyebags, messy hair, wrinkly clothes.

Viktor didn’t wish to give you reasons as to think he was so unkept because of you. Because he wasn’t—it was only a bad night sleep. Not the first and either the last.

Groaning, he took the dubious decision to bathe in the middle of the night. Seeking the refuge of the cold water to calm the cascade of thoughts sieging him. It was like any other day back at the Academy, when he was Heimerdinger’s assistant. Time had gone backwards.

Replaced rolled up dress-shirt’s sleeves with proper cufflinks. His creamy vest now gray with ash and oil stains replaced by a clean one, just as his pants. Untamed hair controlled with luck.

The way back to the lab was calmer at night, with only the cold hitting his face during his journey up the hill. Empty boulevards whose metallic details shone silver against a crescent moon in a clear, starry sky.

He wondered, for a moment where his mind forgot to close the floodgate, if the sky looked the same in the place you had being for the last decade. That—if the tawdriness of those novelists wasn’t tricking him—the moon had watched you built who you were now.

He couldn’t stop the stab of jealousy that coursed through his bones.

The walk cut short after that, dipping his face to the ground until the had to look up toward the guards appointed at the entrance of the research building. A simple nod. At least he didn’t have to break in again, though he thanked those days where lies had flown out his tongue so easily.

Viktor presaged he would need the practice.

*~*~*~*~*~*

At first, he heard the echo of your heels against the desolate hallway.

The familiar whirring mechanism of the door that both Jayce and him had forgotten to oil up.

Then, he must fill the uncomfortable feeling that the lab was shrunk up.

“You’re late.” As an answer, you put a cup of steaming coffee at his left, right where there weren’t any papers that could be stained. “…thank you.”

Finally, he saw you.

A loose, airy blouse and a fancy skirt that hugged your legs up your knees. Perfect for a space this enclosed where the heat of the machine motors warmed it up by noon.

“You can’t wear that,” he stated, meeting your frown with his own. “Where’s your safety equipment?”

“Where’s yours?” you said back, crossing your arms in signal of victory when Viktor got out of excuses.

“I have deep understanding of safety measures in a space such as this, whereas you do not.”

“What? Do you think I��m going to lay on the desk while you tinker with a machine?” You huffed. “Have more faith in me, Viktor.”

You shouldn’t say his name so nonchalantly, especially when Viktor could never mask his reactions to your keen eyes.

“I’m going to attempt to fix this faulty prototype, so you’ll have to wear at least a lab coat if you want to enter the lab.”

“Really now?”

Grunting, Viktor stood up toward the closet at the far left of the room, grabbing two of his coats—because you wouldn’t let him alone if he didn’t abide by his own rules. “Take this one,” he said, throwing you one with his free hand, plopping in the stool back again.

“Don’t you have a smaller one?” He saw you, with the grey clothes almost serving as a robe. One of the sleeves was burned, with a hole the size of the Hexclaw’s laser.

“It’s the only one we have here,” Viktor lied. Well, only a half-truth. Jayce’s clothes wouldn’t fit you, and Sky kept them locked inside her workstation in the annex room.

“Something more I need to wear? Or can you signal me Jayce’s drawing table?” You said instead, leaving your bag at one corner of the hexagonal forge in the middle of the room. Right next to Viktor’s bag where he had shoved the jacket he wore to come here at the dead of night.

“It’s the only one next to the chalkboard.” They shared worktable for all the times Jayce was pondering about designs while Viktor looked at the sketches to make modifications. He had all night to clean it, stacking the papers in Jayce’s desk that wouldn’t be used in a while so you didn’t have another reason to criticize him. “You can use the chalkboard if you want.”

“It’s alright. I’m only drafting planes with the sizes they provided.” You voice sounded absent, muffled once you crouched to lift your map case, getting out your usual tools of mediation, escalimeter, and set squares. The gigantic T ruler, slid smoothly over the worn-out wood. Every movement seemed so easy to emulate, the way your fingers flew across the surface to set the plan in front of you, getting out all kind of pencils that for Viktor looked all the same.

“Do you need something?” Your voice tore him away whatever place his mind was wandering.

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

He blinked, using his left leg to turn the stool around. “Of course I wasn’t,” he snapped, followed by the sound of your unamused hum.

After all, you promised to maintain peace, and so you did during the excruciatingly long morning.

Viktor had his back sore from being hunched down toward a pile of scribbles that made no sense; unconclusive theories and half-done equations. Yet he didn’t dare to look away the paper in front of him, no matter how much his eyes blurred and his muscles ached. He could hear the friction of the pencil against paper, the eraser’s circular motions and the soft blow coming from your lips.

Years ago, all you had was the familiar table at the third story of the library. Next a window so you both tracked the time by the change of light. He still remembered the hues over your hair, like a kaleidoscope. By the time darkness had arrived, he was tugging at your hand over the table to wake you up.

Since when reminiscences sieged him? It was so usual for Piltover to always look toward the future that attempt to look back would endanger one into tripping and being left behind. This felt wrong, stuck in a past that no longer mattered.

You were only classmates, after all.

“This is the design.” Over his numb hands, the paper of your plan was sturdy and rough to stop the abrasion of the eraser from making a hole in it. He was thankful for the hiding spot once he felt his right hand twitch by instinct, just awoken by the familiar, now fancier, milk and lavender scent of your hair.

His eyes swept over the drawing; thin, delicate lines showed a slick tower mirroring that of the Hexgates, curved and unbalanced in an amorph geometrical pattern. Behind it was the complement, so at the distance it would look like one.

He observed you. Dangerously close. You had changed, blooming even prettier with age. Contemplative eyes used to take every detail in, new marks of wrinkles of your smiles and beams. Yet the same lips and cheeks he loved to caress.

You arched your eyebrows. “So?”

You’re precious. “I don’t favor any of these design in particular.” He shrugged, trying to get off the weight of your attention. “They’re not my taste.”

“Then you have terrible taste.”

Oh, truly? You wanted to pick a fight? He had some time to spare, then.

“Alright. Do you want an honest opinion?” Viktor sighed, as if he were exhausted by this conversation and not having his heart working overtime. “They’re ugly.”

You smiled at him; an ironic grin but a smile after all. “Thank you. I won first place in the contest with this one.”

Viktor extended a hand toward you, fingers pointing in an accusing manner. “Now you see? You can’t handle constructive criticism—”

“What constructive criticism?“  you hissed, but he ignored it. Taking a deep breath, you plastered a kind smile on your face that almost made him chuckle. “Why are they ugly?”

Viktor hummed. “Severe. Pretentious.”

“You don’t really recognize who the clients are, do you?”

“I know who are the clients, which is why I’m saying it.” He reclined in his seat. “This aren’t how your designs usually are.” It wasn’t a question, as shameful as it may feel, with his cheeks burning and eyes averting, he remembered the vision you once shared.

You retreated one step, a futile attempt at building a fort.

“You don’t know my designs,” you said, your tone cutting like a knife’s. “Not anymore.” You were already walking toward your bag, and Viktor cursed in a hushed breath. This wasn’t what peace supposed to be.

You loved curves and simpler facades, towers with gigantic windows so the residents inside could feel they touched the sky, small houses to hide a precious treasure in the form of a cozy living room to cuddle in a cold winter.

“Wait—” he called your name, and it sounded so wrong. Tasted bitterly when once had been the sweetest.

“What?!” you snapped. “Just give it to Jayce so he can show it to the Council. Roll it if you don’t want to see it.”

Viktor stood up. “You’re trying to pick a fight.” And he understood. You left without the chance to free all that built up inside of you the moment you got apart, and time had only harvested that sadness into pure wraith.

You huffed. “I don’t even know why I bother to ask your opinion.” You signaled the whole lab. “Do you want to know why you never won any Inventor’s Contest in your time as student? Because your designs were ugly.”

Viktor frowned. “Now who’s bringing the past? My prototypes worked perfectly—more of what I can say to the many winners whose inventions never saw the light of day outside the award.”

“Functionality and aesthetics must be interwoven, Viktor.” You felt as if teaching a stubborn child. “This is what I’m referring to when I say you have bad taste.”

“I would love to differ,” he said, his mind clouded by irritation, nervousness, and the ever-present reminders of another life. “How would you accuse me of having horrid taste when I dated you once?”

The silence hung heavy and charged between the two. You looked as if he had hit you with his cane, and he didn’t feel any better.

What have you just done?

“You’re impossible,” you just said with a tired sigh. Turning your back toward him and almost running out the door.