#fucken burn them

[yewstronaut]

*insert bat emoji here*

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.

[lynxalon]

hullo

[percentstardust]

want drogon to enter a revenge era where he flies back to westeros after four years to raze the land as he searches for jon sn.ow. he’s alone, he’s suffering, and he’s angry. he’s gonna be double the size in this time frame so he’s going to be a nightmare to take down IF he is taken down.

[im-a-goat-in-disguise]

if it's more Christian than right wing (and you havent revealed yourself to be otherwise) you mayyy gain some more traction by finding the basis for some of your socialism within The Beatitudes. just a suggestion!

It's equivalent parts Christian to Conservative. Generally speaking, I grind against them on both political and religious issues, but use their stance on whichever I'm not talking about to support what I am talking about, generally resulting in catch-22s for them.

[sashiavi]

It's Fathers Day in Australia :D

Let's read some Kent Filth ♡

Warnings: 18+ Smut | daddy kink | breeding&unsafe sex | mean!Kent | cheating | dirty talk | objectification | aftercare | Kent is a mess ♡ | Word count : 1215

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

"Daddy.. Please~" Your voice cracks, hand reaching behind you, fingers lovingly grabbing at Kent's hip bone. Your poor hand gets squished between the fat of your ass and the taught skin of his hip, hit with his snappy thrusts against you from behind.

"Ughnn.. Shut the fuck up." The older man growls, roughly threading his fingers through your own, ripping you off of his skin as if it burned, pinning your hand above your head, pressing into the mess of sheets and pillows above.

Kent will never admit it out loud. But that filthy little name you throw at him had his cock throbbing, gut squeezing with arousal- Hips snapping harder, rougher, deeper against your ass, watching it ripple prettily while his cock takes your cunt. He hates it. Hates that he loves it. Hates that every whiny babbling call of his 'name' had him going crazier for you.

"Sorry, Daddy~ Can't- Can't help it..!" You whine, pathetically wiggling your hips on his cock, trying your best to fuck back on him. Yoba. You were such an entitled little Brat, weren't you? Silly girl coming on to him, breaking every age rule in the book, needy and in heat, practically forcing him to fuck you like this.

"What'd I fucken' tell Ya'?" He plays mean, as if he wasn't grabbing your hips, like he wasn't mounting up on your cunt from behind, acting like he hated you when in reality; Fuck, he loved this. And he was sure you knew it too.

You had him pistoning his hips into your gooey cunt, cock raw and unwrapped, chubby thick head oozing globs and dribbles of pre cum. Oh how you spread for him, back arched so prettily, legs nice and wide, hands clawing at whatever fabric you could twist your fingers through above your head. Face down ass up all for him to fuck.

"Pleaseee.. pleaseplease~ K-Kent!" You cry into the mattress, hiccuping a moan when his hand comes down to the flesh of your ass with a bruising clap.

"Try again." He grits through his teeth, eyes zeroed in on the pretty little sloppy ring of cream around his length. It was a game. Push and pull. His silly little mistress never getting anything correct, only earning punishment after punishment with everything your slutty mouth says. Serves you right. For enticing him like this, for making him do this to you, to his family- Fuck.

"Daddyyyy~ getting close, sososoclose! Can I cum? Please? Pleasepleaseplease~" Your voice cries. One of his large hands comes down to the back of your head, fingers spindling through your hair, palm forcing your stupidly cute face into the mattress. The other? Palming a hard caress down your tummy, to your spread legs, tucking nicely between them, fingers rubbing feverishly on your swollen, puffy clit.

"Behave and you will, Baby." Like you could actually do anything right for him, as if he had a proper set of special rules for you to follow. All you could do was lay there, look pretty and Take. Daddy's. Dick.

Take that thick cock, let him use and abuse your gushy pussy, let out all those frustrations, don't say a fucken' word about this to anyone, Daddy'll be mad, Yeah? Don't wanna ruin this, do you?

Yeah. That's right. Take what he gives you. Be his pretty fuck toy, little dolly pussy all swollen and puffy just for him. Just for Daddy.

"Cumming! Cummin'cummingcummingg~ Daddy! Daddy please, fuck-!" Such vulgar words spewing off of your tongue, cunt clenching hot on his cock, practically forcing him to breed up your tummy. It's your fault. For calling him that, for bouncing back on his lap while he mounts you, for crying so prettily, for clenching and squeezing him with your dumb orgasm. His fingers don't stop, still bullying at your clit, rubbing in tight little circles while you sob out your moans.

That's it. Make a pretty mess. Gush on him, lube up his cock just like that-

"Ughhnn Fuck. Squeezin' me like that- S' like you want me to cum in you- S'that it? Trying to make me a Daddy for real??" He groans up from his throat as if he didn't have loving little family back home. Who was he to deny you? Especially with those begs, 'yes, yes, yeses' babbling at him, rim of cream around his cock gone all sticky and soaked with arousal and your own wet, messy orgasm.

"So needy, aren't you? Fuck- lucky your pussy's so sweet yeah? Makin' me do this t'ya- all your fault.. All. Your. Fucken'. Fault." His hips snap in sharp staccatos, mimicking each syllable of his nasty words.

You're not even responding properly anymore, fucked dumb, twitchy and squirming, only babbling broken cries of that name and pleading little sobs for him to just cum. Your legs shake and falter, slumping under him, practically forcing him to set you straight, hold those thighs rough and tight and use you like a doll. That's it. That's right, little Dolly- His personal little toy pussy for him to fuck and breed-

"Fuhck-" Kent's throat growls, teeth grit and hips stilling hard against your cunt when he catches a glimpse at your pretty, teary eyes. God, don't look at him like that, over your shoulder, blinking tears down your cheeks, mouthing sweet begs and praises of "Daddy- Daddy Please!" Nearly absolutely breathless and voided of your crackled voice. One hand roughly squeezes your jaw, smushing your lips into a plump pout for him to kiss and lick into- lapping his tongue on your own, mixing spit and tears while he empties his heavy balls into the depths of your suckling cunt.

Pulse after pulse, Daddy cumming in his dumb Girl, that little toy pussy, hot ropey spurts ribboning into a lovely puddle in your guts, breeding you up.

He shushes you meanly, growling and grumbling, hot swears and nasty, hard thrusts, a big mean Bully. He fucks you like he hates you, spanks and yanks, biting, pulling, pinning- all until he should cum and leave you there, soaked and spilling.

But Yoba, he's not moving anywhere.

He's gonna lay here a while, cock nice and nestled, all sticky and half hard, squished into your pudgy, swollen little cunt. He's gonna press his warm, sweat-stuck hairy chest on your back, thick arms snuck under your front, coddling your breasts in his palms, smushed into a lazy prone bone. He's gonna kiss you, peppery over your sweaty neck, broad nose nuzzling under your ear, chapped lips whispering the softest little praises you'd ever heard in your life. He's gonna tell you "S'Okay," All slurred and rumbly with no effort put into announciating.

Neither of you can help it, right? He's just so frustrated all the time, he can't stand being home, having the awful pressure to play 'Dad' and 'Husband', having to live up to those impossible expectations. You do such a good job at helping him, no thoughts no needs- just a sweet, drippy cunt for him to fuck everything away.

"Sucha' Good job.. Mmm..." His hips meanly buck, arms tightening at the sweet, sobby hiccup of a moan you let out for him. Nawh, he's nearly broken you. Just a little more.. Give yourself to Daddy, Baby.

[gamblersdoll]

Hakari getting turned on from reader doing mundane everyday things? Like you could just be chilling around the house looking bummy asf in some shorts with a worn out tank top, and bro would still be thirsting over you 😫

“fuck, you look good.” hugs from behind as hey says, lips going for your neck. his hands wander, groping a breast and then slips his hands under your shorts waist band. “could put a fuckin’ baby in ya..”

although he loved seeing you in expensive dresses and have you all pretty up, he also loved— adored when you were in old busted clothes. it showed you were comfortable in your skin, and with him being around.

and its could be a shirt from him that’s obviously too big, but he’s still on his knees begging to eat you out in it.

and let it be that time and youre in clothes that make you more comfortable? hes wanting to take care of his babydoll so bad and then when youre off, he’ll tell you how much it took him to not pounce (already having his dick in your throat.)

“kin– what do you find sexy about this?” you point to your clothes, but him swatting your hand away and kissing your lips then back to your neck, and shoulder.

“dont worry ‘bout that.” he chuckles, hardened dick pressing your ass and whispering to you. “just know ill bend you over that pool table over there and make you fuckin’ mess.”

“kari!”

“mm?”

“are you in your—“

“damn fuckin’ right. hot, burnin’ baby.” he snickers, hand snaking down your back and his other cups your pretty cunt. “shit, cant help it.”

you breath heavy, turning your head to look up at him when he tells you to.

“thats my fucken’ girl, gotta be inside you.”

he simply cannot function with bummy clothes, thats why he doesnt let you out with them on. he doesnt really do voyeurism like that anymore, and he knows you damn sure dont. so, he lets you at home. and he makes it a point that even in clothes that isnt high fashion, he would still make your pussy glistened with his drool and body sticky with his cum.

and now, you had to take what you gave out. that being said, your legs burned. legs spread wide as he separated and ate your now drooling cunt. “she must love the attention huh?”

[wileys-russo]

Could you do Katie mccabe where Katie sees r always gets like picked on during matches and she's finally had enough so she tries to teach you to stand you to people but reader gets a red card cus it gets quite physical

shirt tugs II k.mccabe

you grunted as once more you went slamming down onto the pitch, your legs flying out from beneath you as your back thumped onto the grass and you took a moment to catch your breath, letting out a wheeze.

"you alright??" alessia hovered over you in concern as you nodded, holding a hand up that you just needed a moment as she stepped back to give you some space, both caitlin and stina doing the same.

"ah come on ref that's bullshit she took her fucken legs out!" you heard an all too familiar accent yell angrily as you slowly got back to your feet.

"katie it's not worth it, please! i'm okay, i promise." you assured, inserting yourself and pushing on your girlfriends chest to get her to back off with a pleading look.

she glowered at the ref behind you who was speaking with the number twenty who took you down, though no cards or penalties were awarded.

"mccabe! cool it, you're already on a yellow." kim warned seriously as she appeared by your side, katie puffing air out of her nose angrily but storming off as the whistle blew to signal the end of injury time and the first half.

"you okay? you're taking a flogging out there." jen slung an arm over her shoulder walking off the pitch with you as you sighed and nodded. "gonna have some bruises to show for my efforts tomorrow, that's for sure." you shook your head, shoving the taller girl who made a comment about katie kissing them better.

you sat through the half time talk listening intently, nodding along as you sipped at your water and forced a gel down with a wince, well aware of your girlfriends eyes burning into you.

"what?" you turned to her as jonas finished talking, a few more minutes remaining as he began to go over some new tactics with his intended subs. "why do you let them do that to ya?" she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"oh yes i let them push me down babe, in fact i welcome it!" you rolled your eyes, going to stand as she slid in beside you and tugged you back down. "darlin i don't mean like that, but you never fight back or stand up for yourself, or argue to the ref!" she spoke a little more calmly now, concern clear in her eyes as you squeezed her knee in appreciation.

"there's no point wasting energy on that. if the ref doesn't call it as it happens chances are they won't anyway, no point in holding up game play for a silly argument." you smiled softly, melting katie a little but the concern didn't dissapear from her eyes.

"well the more you don't react the more they'll do it if they get away with it. cmon let me teach ya something. pelova! come here." katie called across the change rooms to the younger girl who appeared with a confused frown.

"right. so lets say i'm you, and vic here is the opposition whose just tackled ya!" katie stood and began to explain, giving the dutch girl a murderous look as she attempted to take her down.

"if the ref won't call it, you get back up to your feet, face your opponent and-" she suddenly lurched forward, grabbing the back of vic's top and forcefully pulling it up and over her head.

"see!" katie grinned clearly proud of her work as you shook your head, helping vic get herself free as she swore at your girlfriend in dutch, shoving her and storming off.

"are you trying to get me sent off?" you laughed, playfully knocking your boot into her shin pad. "nah just tryna make you smile, worked a charm!" she sat back down beside you, leaving a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you playfully punched her shoulder.

"but seriously baby, stand up for yourself. if they aren't being carded for a push or a shit tackle you're not gonna be carded for a few cheeky insults or a returned favour. i've seen ya angry i know it's there, and it's very hot." katie whispered the last part in your ear making you smile as the two of you stood, following the others back onto the grass.

as the half resumed once again any time you had the ball it seemed a pair of boots would fly at you, and time after time if it wasn't your ass thumping down onto the pitch it was your stomach, your uniform stained green and your patience very slowly thinning.

there seemed to be two repeat offenders, both defensive wingers you'd come across at national and club level, and given you'd scored the only goal of the game so far and watched them converse closely with the coach during the break, you figured it wasn't a coincidence you were being targeted.

alessia was too, the two of you seeming to spend more time on your assess than your feet this half, and you could feel the teams frustration that there had been no fouls given building.

with both teams now becoming increasingly pushy and aggressive, the referee very close to losing control of the game if she didn't start to at least pull out some more yellows.

and sure enough, that's exactly what happened.

once again you found yourself with a perfect cross in from wally making a beeline for the goal, dribbling around two players with easy and making a break for it. until suddenly someone slammed into you from behind, clipping your ankles and sending you practically into a forward flip as your head smacked against the ground.

the ringing in your ears was nothing compared to the uproar from the crowd and your team mates as a full on shoving match ensured between both teams in the middle of the pitch.

you watched on as you slowly sat up, the same number twenty from before sending you an amused smile as she began to walk away, and you couldn't quite tell what came over you but something did, and you'd finally had enough.

puffing air from your nostrils angrily you jumped to your feet, ignoring the mounting tension and pain in your neck, storming over to the twenty and shoving her in the back as she stumbled forward.

you noticed a few of your team mates attention switch to you at the out of character action, but you weren't done yet. the roars of the crowd thumping in your ears you leapt forward, grabbing the back of the girls shirt and pulling it over her head, pushing her forward so she fell back onto the pitch.

you felt hands grab at you from behind and turned around to swing, jen grabbing your hand in hers with a shocked look as you winced hearing a shrill whistle in your ear. and then suddenly, you really were seeing red, the card held high in the air as every ounce of anger deflated instantly from your body and you crumpled.

"mate what happened why did-" jen started to ask as you shook your head, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you tugged your hand away and began to walk off the pitch with your head hung low.

suddenly arms were slung around you again as you glanced up, your girlfriend on one side as alessia was on the other, it would appear it had been a triple booking.

the three of you entered the change rooms, alessia disappearing to shower as you sat down rubbing your temple, stretching your neck which was growing more sore as each time passed.

"well, i did sort of tell ya to do that." the irishwoman grinned, kicking off her boots and sitting back with a proud smile as you rolled your eyes, rubbing your neck, your girlfriend pushing your hands away and telling you to wait for the therapist.

"plus, once we get home i'll give ya a little special massage, as a congratulations for my girls very first red card."

[whatsnewalycat]

what do you need?

Pairing: BratTamer!Joel Miller x Brat!F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: no show spoilers, established relationship, non-canon compliant, post-outbreak, smut, swearing, brat “taming”, D/s dynamic, dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, pain kink, impact play, collar wearing, maybe might have taken a snippet of dialogue from how the world works by bo burnh@m for horny reasons, unprotected piv sex, crying, shower, overstimulation, choking, spitting in mouth, fluff

A/N: I feel like this story is going to be presented as evidence when I'm rejected from the pearly gates post-mortem. Happy birthday to Joel Miller, sorry your birthday was a huge bummer that one time. Big big smoochies to @frannyzooey for helping me with several things and just generally being awesome.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

You’re having one of those days. 

You know. 

The kind of day where everything you come into contact with barbs into your flesh and tugs at your nerves. 

Noises out on the street too loud, cupboards too empty, coffee too weak, counters too cluttered, shower too cold, clothing too tight—fuck, even your skin feels too fucking tight. 

Overstimulated. 

Exhausted. 

Restless.��

You’ve given pieces of yourself out hand over foot, and now you’re at a deficit and the world around you is still hungry, even though you’ve been picked to bare bones. Everything is too much and too little all at the same time. 

The toddler that lives in the apartment above yours is throwing a temper tantrum. The kid’s defiant screeching rubs against your brain like fiberglass until all four walls of your living room feel like they’re closing in around you, squeezing you out like a tube of toothpaste, suffocating you. 

And you’re thinking: If I don’t release some of this pressure I might go all fucking Hindenburg and explode. 

The apartment door swings open, and Joel walks in, his broad shoulders all slumped like he’s carrying the goddamn weight of the word. He glances over at you as he slides the chain lock closed, “Hey, darlin’.”

You look up from your place on the couch, where you’re hunched over crossed legs, elbows digging into your thighs. All sharp angles and tense muscles. Without responding, you return your attention to the glass of moonshine dangling from your grip. Swirl it around a little. Take a big swallow and try not to wince as it burns down to your belly. 

Joel stands there for a beat, watching you, waiting for your manners to kick in. When they don’t, he huffs and stomps into the kitchen. Cupboard doors slam and glass clinks as he searches for a clean cup, then pours himself a drink. 

And, christ, he’s so fucking loud. 

Every noise he makes is an exclamation mark. A shard of glass pressing into your eardrum. A sliver wedging further and further under your fingernail. 

He walks over, eyes glued to you, each heavy footfall a stubborn grain of sand that won’t leave that space between your toes no matter how much you wiggle them. 

By the time his weight shifts the couch cushions and sets you off balance, tilting in his direction, you know what you need. 

You need to get under his skin like he’s under yours. To push him until his edges are hardened and sharp to the touch. You need him to pry open the emergency hatch and empty your mind. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Your nostrils flare. You bring the cup to your lips and take another big, burning swig of bootleg liquor, then say, “Nothing.” 

“Nothin’,” he repeats, his voice low and disbelieving, “Now, why don’t I believe that?” 

You sit up and glare at him, meeting his dark eyes, all shadowed by his drooping brow as he tilts his blank stare at you. 

Excitement flickers inside you. You tilt your head right back and drop your voice, mocking him, “Reckon it’s ‘cuz I got a fucken attitude.” 

His jaw tightens, mouth flattening into a straight line as he narrows his eyes at you, “You gonna talk about what’s got your panties all in a twist, or just be a nuisance about it?” 

You bat your eyelashes at him and shrug. 

“I see,” he searches your face, turning his wrist in slow circles, moonshine sloshing around in his cup, “You know, if you need me to do somethin’ for you, or… to you, all you have to do is ask. You don’ need to do this whole thing.”

“What thing?” you blink. Play dumb. 

His eyes roll a little as he brings the glass to his lips and tips it back. Taking its contents all in one swallow, he slams the glass down on the end table with a thunk. Shaking his head, he looks at you, “Are you fuckin’ done?” 

You smirk at him, dragging your eyes up and down his body. He’s studying you with this stern stare, teeth clenched, the muscles in his jaw twitching like little warning signals: PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 

A warm fluttering starts at your center. Setting your glass down, you crawl onto his lap. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t do anything but watch your face as you drag your fingernail along the tightened line of his jaw. 

Threading your brows together, you coo, “You’re just so cute when you’re angry.” 

“That’s enough,” he grabs your hand and squeezes it hard enough to make you gasp with delight, then says, “Open your mouth.” 

“Make me.” 

It happens so fast. 

One hand on your forehead, the other gripping your jaw, yanking your mouth open. 

“Stick your fuckin’ tongue out.” 

You do. 

You hear it first. The squelch of him gathering moisture. He spits onto your tongue, his saliva moonshine flavored and melting into yours. He does it again, then groans as he rubs it into your tastebuds, the rough pad of his thumb scraping against the tender muscle. 

“So, what, you had a shitty day, now you’re actin’ out? Tryin’ to get me all worked up so I punish you?” 

The words are all hoarse and heated against your cheek. His cock twitches beneath you and you grind into him, tongue still stretched out. 

He spits on it again. 

“Is this what you wanted, you little shit? Hmm?” he tugs on your chin, “Do you like it when I spit in your fuckin’ mouth?” 

“I like it,” you tell him, nodding, placing your palm on his chest. 

His throat rumbles like he’s pleased. He loosens his grip, then brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, glancing down at your mouth, “Do you want more?” 

“Yes—yes, please.”

“Much better,” he purrs, “Open.” 

You open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue. Another hot wad of spit plops down on it, moonshine flavored, Joel flavored, and you moan.

He cups your cheek and murmurs, “See? You can be a good girl. Can’t you?” 

Sparks sizzle up your back bone. You nod and bat your eyelashes at him, closing your mouth and swallowing his spit, sliding your hand through the soft patches of gray in his beard. 

His throat rumbles. Dark gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, ”Now, tell me, darlin’, what do you need?” 

The question trickles down the middle of you and twists into a stubborn knot. Your heart flutters when your lips part, but courage dies in your chest. 

You shake your head and mutter, mostly to yourself, “It’s stupid.”

His brow furrows just slightly. 

Heat blooms in your chest and on your face. Nervous energy makes your throat bob and your tongue go numb, and you shake your head, “Sorry.” 

He fully frowns now, searching your face, “Sorry? What for?”

You shake your head again, dropping your gaze, and clamp your mouth shut. 

Joel releases a big sigh, curling your body into his, and kisses your forehead. He murmurs against your skin, “Do you trust me?” 

“With my life.” 

He lets you sit in the wake of your own answer. The weight of his expectant silence wriggles under your skin and makes you squirm. You cast your gaze downward and shrug, “I don’t know.” 

He’s quiet.

When you glance back up at him, his expression has softened into one that makes your heart ache. It’s almost doleful, the way he looks at you. 

“I don’t know how to explain it, I feel,” you intertwine your fingers with his, “Empty here,” you pull the clasped hands to your chest, “But full… in-in my head. Everything feels like too much—I don’t know, Joel.”

The tears that prick your eyes take you by surprise. Usually you keep these pesky blue feelings to yourself, so as not to burden him. You should be used to this world by now. Your skin should be thicker. 

You feel weak. 

Pathetic. 

Shame rips through you. More tears erupt from deep within your chest and stream down your cheeks, burning the whole way. A rush of adrenaline pumps through your body. It tinges your blood cold and makes you panic. 

You let go of his hand and bring your knees to your chest, burying your face between them, blubbering, “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, don’t,” he sighs, not quite sure what to do with this, and slides his warm palm up and down the curve of your back, “It’s—it’s ok.” 

All you can do is shake your head. It’s not ok. He doesn’t want someone like this. A crying, sputtering mess. Someone who gets upset because, what, noises seem too loud? 

“Look at me, babygirl.”

You can’t help the whimper that bubbles up your throat. He only uses the term of endearment during rare, tender moments. When he needs you to know, really know, that above the games and the rules and the agreements behind the locked door of this apartment… he cares for you.

You sniffle and wipe your tears on the stiff denim of your work pants, then peak up at him. 

He searches your face, and says, “Let me take care of you.” 

Your eyebrows thread together and your lips part. He just keeps staring at you like that, so earnest, his eyes fertile earth you could take root in. 

“Ok,” you whisper. 

“Go take a shower. You can be a good girl and do that for me, can’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

You stay there for a moment, eyes locked on his, and ask, “Can I have a kiss?” 

He hums, dropping his gaze to your lips, “How do we ask?” 

Heat coils around you. He studies your movements as you unfold yourself and sit up straight, then climb on top of him, knees framing his hips, “Can I have a kiss… please?” 

His hands land on your waist, “Course you can.” 

You slide your palms up his chest, his neck, to cradle his jaw, then lean in to capture his lips in yours. The kiss is molasses and moonshine. Syrupy and rich. Intoxicating. It warms your insides and leaves you wanting more. 

When he pulls back, he smooths his touch around your backside and gives your ass a firm smack, “Go on now.” 

You try on his Texas accent and tease, “Go on, git,” and start giggling when he blinks at you, then add, “Ok ok I’m going!” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, y’know that?” he calls after you as you scamper into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. 

You pull back the shower curtain, flip on the hot water, and strip off your clothes. The weak stream splatters hot against your skin when you step inside. For a minute, you just stand there with your eyes closed, relishing the warmth. 

The bathroom door opens, then closes. 

You wash your hair as Joel strips off his clothing into a pile on top of yours. His shadow on the shower curtain grows, then disappears as he pulls it back and steps inside. Your eyes close as you tip your head back into the water stream and massage the conditioner from your hair. 

He plants his palm at the small of your back and brings himself closer. A soapy washcloth meets your bellybutton and moves in circular motions, working up a lather. When he hits a weak spot, and a tickle shoots up your body, you giggle and grab his wrist. 

“You don’t like it?” 

Feeling through your wet hair for any remaining gobs of conditioner, you open your eyes to meet his, grinning, “I do, I’m just ticklish.”

His lips curve into a smirk and he shakes his head as he returns his attention to the task at hand, scrubbing the day’s grime off your body. The hot water works with his meticulous attention to dull the serrated edges under your skin. 

“Turn.” 

You do, taking a backwards step towards him. Your nerves tingle with want, the snarled tips of them all stretching in his direction, untangling to beckon him closer. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and starts on your back. Your shoulders relax under his praise. Under the firm pressure of the washcloth scouring your skin. He draws circles down your spine, around your hip, between your legs, leaving a trail of suds for you to rinse off. 

When he’s finished sudsing and you’re finished rinsing, he says, “Go wait for me in the bedroom,” so you swap places with him and squeeze the excess water from your body and hair. You step out onto the bath mat and wrap a towel around yourself, then tiptoe into the bedroom. 

Across the patchwork quilt, Joel laid out your collar. You dry yourself off and fasten the leather strap around your neck, then wait for him in the middle of the bed with your legs crossed. 

When Joel enters the room, it seems to shrink around him. Every inch of him is gleaming and dewy, his hairline all steely gray and combed back into damp, dark waves. He appraises you while tucking a ratty towel around his waist. You feel your shoulders pull back. Your spine uncurls, pointing straight at the ceiling. 

His eyes flick around the room as he walks to the side of the bed and hooks a finger in the little loop of your collar, tugging you to your knees. You crawl to him, following his firm guidance until you’re eye-to-eye and just an inch or so apart. 

Under the squeaky-clean soap scent lies something so unmistakably Joel. Woodsy and masculine, it cattle-prods your heart. 

“What am I gonna do with you?”

Heat sparks from deep within you and blooms in your guts, your cheeks. You feel yourself arching towards him, leaning closer, trying to taste his breath. 

Some smart-aleck answer parts your lips, but he preemptively interrupts you. 

“Rhetorical question.” 

An amused smile twitches the corners of his mouth. 

His mouth. 

You stare at it, fingertips buzzing with energy, yearning to feel the soft curve of his plush lips.  

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flick to his, smoldering but critical. A wide, calloused palm lands on your waist and slides around to your backside, cupping the heft of your asscheek. You swallow hard. This thick, pulsing ache starts between your legs and makes you whimper. An attestation to your pliancy. 

His throat rumbles and he pulls a sharp breath through his teeth. Joel likes the noise, because he knows what it means. It means you’re putty in his hands. Giving yourself over to him, letting him take control. He digs his fingers into the tender flesh of your ass and smirks when you gasp.

“That’s what you need, hmm?”

You nod, eyebrows drawing together, batting your lashes at him. 

He doesn’t let up. Quite the opposite, actually, he grips you harder, rumbling out, “Jus’ need someone to take care of you? Fuck the angry out of you?”

Again, you nod. 

He tugs on your collar, “Use your words.”

The grasp is bruising and constant and fucking delicious. Dropping your gaze, you  breathe, “Yes si—”

“Look at me.” 

Your cunt clenches around nothing as you comply, meeting his lust-blown eyes. 

“Yes sir.” 

“That’s better.”

Joel releases your ass cheek and tugs at your collar. 

When his lips meet yours with a firm, ravenous kiss, urgency overcomes you. You clamber closer, hooking your hands behind his neck, dragging your nails through his damp curls. Each time the kiss renews, it gains traction, intensity, evident in his nips and groans, and his harsh, wandering touch. Grabbing your ass, your tits, your thighs. Pinching your nipples so hard you gasp and nod. 

He buries his fist in your hair and pulls back, panting, “Turn around ‘n’ bend over.” 

You do, reluctantly parting from his lips to spin 180° and raise your ass in the air, pressing your ear to the mattress. 

“Close your eyes,” he knocks your knees further apart, and when you comply, letting your eyelids flutter closed, he murmurs, “That’s it. Now you’re gonna sit there and take what I give you, hmm?” 

The rough pads of his fingers trail electric up your seam, ghosting along the hungry, aching nerves. You gasp and nod, “Yes sir.” 

His throat rumbles, and his fingertips start to work your throbbing clit in hard-pressed circles. He’s heavy-handed in the way he touches you. It’s not delicate, or teasing, or gentle—it’s fucking perfect. Heat bubbles up your middle and spreads across your skin, pulling a whimper from your throat. 

Joel’s free hand slides up your spine, his palm pressing firm and slow across every vertebrae, coaxing you to stretch your backbone, arching your hips towards him. 

“There we go, that’s my good girl—”

You moan at the rush of pleasure his praise gives you. Your heart starts to thud, heavy and thick in your chest, and his hand between your legs starts to work you faster, jolting your center. 

“Fuck, Joel—”

Another gravelly sound surfaces from his chest. He slaps your ass, hard and firm, and you gasp at the sharp sting. He does it again. The smack rings in your ears and the divine pain it’s coupled with resonates deep in your bones. He does it again and again and again, all the while rubbing your clit in vigorous, tight circles, growling out, “All fuckin’ wound up, acting out, this is what you needed, hmm?”

“Yes yes yes yes—”

The feeling at your center grows and spreads, building building building—then it swallows you whole. Your body convulses with pleasure so acute and overwhelming, you try to pull away from him, to close his hand between your thighs, but he grabs your hip and kneels on your calf, keeping you spread open. 

“Don’t you run away from this,” he barks as you let out a choked sob, “You take this fucking like a good girl, you hear me?”

“It’s—fuck, it’s it’s—”

You want to tell him it’s too much, but the tide of pleasure draws you back with violent force and washes over you again. The noise that comes out of you is guttural, barely human, this half-howl, half-cry. It’s excruciating and overwhelming and so fucking good. 

Joel chuckles, “That’s it, let it go, darlin’.”

You do. A sensation overtakes you, that’s warm and secure. The weight strapped to your shoulders, that skin-too-tight, noises-too-loud sort of feeling melts away and you nod, “Yes, sir.”

He withdraws his hand from between your legs and grabs your waist, bringing your bodies closer. The head of his cock nudges against your entrance and he plunges forward. 

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you gasp as his thick, throbbing length slides into your well-lubricated cunt. 

He splits you open cell-by-cell, his own needy moan mingling with yours, and tells you, “God, your pussy—fuck, that’s good—”

There’s no warm-up period. No sweet, slow strokes, or whispered words of comfort, or gentle anything. Immediately, he’s fucking you hard and fast. You push back against his harsh thrusts, each impact devastating and intoxicating and heady with a feral energy that fills your body with static. 

Joel closes a fist in your hair and yanks, tilting your head to the ceiling, and you let out a long, sick moan that makes him groan with delight. His arm slips around you and pulls your back to his chest. Your head falls back on his shoulder, mouth gaping open to babble out, “So fucking good, fuck fuck fuck—I fucking love it, Joel, holy fuck—”

His big hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, restricting your airflow, and you let out wheezing, gasping breathes as he grunts in your ear, “Yeah you fucking do. Pussy jus’ needs a good pounding, that it? My little slut just needs to get fucked, hmm?”

You whimper and nod, as much as his grip will allow. His fingers crush your pulse, leaving you light-headed. The scraps of breath you manage to take in carry the sharp, tangy scent of sex. You revel in the feeling of him filling you over and over, each roll of his hips collects electric at your core, gaining traction and energy. 

When you look up at him and meet the corner of his dark, lust-blown eyes, he releases his grip on your throat and pulls you into a heated kiss. Both of you start to take in short, frantic breaths, passing soft moans back and forth. That gooey static in your middle grows and grows. Your limbs start to quiver and you cry, “Oh my fucking god, Joel—you’re gonna make me come—”

“That’s it, babygirl, let it go.”

You do. 

You let it consume you, a bright, blissful warmth that pulses through every inch of your body. Joel moans as your cunt clenches down around him, then pulls out in time to shoot his load onto the bedspread. 

For a moment, the only things in existence are the two of you. His ragged breath in your ear, your heaving chests and empty minds. 

He departs your body and stretches out on the bed with a groan. You only feel his absence for a second before he hooks his finger into your collar’s loop to pull you closer, “C’mere.”

An obedient creature, for the time being at least, you follow the suggestion and curl up at his side. You smooth your palm up his heated chest, all dewy with sweat, and admire his broad frame. His distinguished features. While surveying the map of scars and wrinkles and grays on his rugged exterior, your gaze meets his, and you find a remarkable softness there. 

He seems to study you with the same sort of reverence as you do him. 

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” 

It makes you smile, which, in turn, makes him smile. A gorgeous and rare spectacle. The expression carves out a dimple in his cheek and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

You scoot closer and kiss him, your lips soft, gentle. He kisses you back in a similar manner, slow and sweet, twisting your brain in a big, beautiful kaleidoscope of emotions. 

The intimidation you felt when you met him, still hot-to-the-touch after all these years, tumbling around with tiny glimmering glass bits of desire and apprehension and pride and excitement and awe and dread and security. 

And love. 

Of course love, even though neither of you dare look at it directly. Only suckers allow such a thing to exist in this world. But it’s there, nonetheless. Weaving its way through each fragmented shard, pulling it all together. 

[jeonqbunny]

sounds like denial

megumi fushiguro x reader smut ♡

summary: megumi & you never got along as roommates, until one day you found him using your panties to get himself off.

content warning: dom!megumi x sub!f!reader, degradation, pussy slapping, choking, cnc if you squint, edging, use of petnames (slut, whore, good girl) MEGUMI IS AGED UP!

word count: 3.7k

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!

megumi fushiguro was the absolute bane of your existence. his cold shoulder was one that made you fume with anger. he was a neat freak, constantly moving your items from the place where you had left them to leave you frantically searching for them in your time of needing them.

“megumi– i swear to god if you move my keys again, i will strangle you.” you growled under your breath as you snatched them out of the top drawer in your shared kitchen. he shrugged, not paying much mind to your anger as it didn’t intimidate him like you thought it did. his spiky raven locks fell into his face when he snapped his head to look at you scurrying out of the kitchen and heading towards the front door.

“yeah yeah ye– wait, where are you going? don’t you have something better to do? like y’know.. study for your finals?” he crossed his arms over his chest, his dark blue orbs burning holes into your skin. you reached up to tug at your hair in annoyance, shooting back the same glare he gave you.

“god, is what i do really any of your business megumi? you’re my roommate, not my fucken dad.” you spat, adjusting your stance as you rested against the door frame. “you’re in a pissy ass mood and i’m not having it. if you’re gonna go, just go.” he barked back, a hint of annoyance coating his words. kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of him, he rested his arms behind his head as his eyes closed as if to instigate some more.

he tried his very best to act nonchalant, but you were genuinely striking a nerve at this point. normally, as much as he hated to admit it, he did enjoy getting a rise out of you, but only when it really benefited him. and right now, you weren’t benefiting him in the slightest.

you swallowed thickly, biting back the venom that your thoughts threatened to spit at him. you let out a scoff, pivoting on your foot to leave the apartment dramatically. you had a meeting with your teacher to go over your exams, and no thanks to megumi, you were now running late. when megumi heard the door click shut, one of his eyes opened to the side as if to make sure you were really gone.

he hesitantly stood to his feet, a thought weighing on his mind as he lugged himself to his bedroom. he threw himself onto his plush mattress, a small ‘squeak’ sounding from the extra weight added to the wooden bedframe. he let a soft sigh fall from his pretty lips, his eyes closing once again as he tried to gather his thoughts

suddenly, memories of his friends constantly teasing him about his supposed crush on you filled his mind. it angered him to think about, there was no way in hell he would ever find you, of all people, attractive. at least that’s what he told himself every time he took a huff of your panties while fisting his throbbing, leaky dick.

the view of you walking around the house in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear began flooding his mind, his member stiffening and straining against the fabric of his sweats. the way your hips swayed with every step you took, the moans he would hear coming from your room late at night when you felt lonely. god, he wished he was the one to make you moan so prettily like that.

his hand ghosted along the expanse of his toned abdomen, slipping under the waistband of his sweats to palm at his needy cock. a whine bubbled in his throat, his hips gyrating forward into his hand to cause more friction. his hand shot over to his nightstand, haphazardly tugging the drawer open before stirring around his belongings. that’s when he felt it, the fabric of a fresh pair of your panties he stole from your dirty laundry hamper the night before.

he gripped it in his clutch tightly, slamming the drawer shut before sniffing them. a wanton groan fell from his throat, his eyes closing tightly as he inhaled your scent. his hand moved against his cock faster, pants and moans of your name filling the air as he continued his more than sinful ministrations.

the lustrous fabric of his boxers decorated with precum became increasingly more annoying, causing him to huff in frustration before tugging his pants and boxers down. he sighed in relief when his needy dick sprung free, the tip flushed a shade of angry red as his precum dribbled down his shaft to his balls.

a pang of guilt filled his chest as he began to fist the tip of his cock, his thumb brushing over his aching slit. he used his precum as lube, a loud squelching sound following each swift stroke of his hand. he ran his tongue along the fabric of the panties where your pussy would sit, shivering in ecstasy as his head flopped back in pleasure. “i’m so sorry y/n.. i– i’m so sorry..” he whimpered under his breath, gripping his member tighter and thrusting it into his hand.

he felt this climax approaching rapidly, the scent of your pussy lingering on the panties he was lapping at so desperately. the knot tightening in his abdomen and threatening to burst at any moment, and just as he was right about to finish.. he heard his door slowly creak open as you began to talk.

“sorry for wh– oh. oh my god?” there you stood, looking like a deer in headlights as you took in what laid in front of you. you chortled in shock, your palm smacking your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to come out. you didn’t really know what to say or do at this point, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you stood there, entirely unable to move as it all processed.

those were your panties, a pair you’ve been trying to find for a hot minute, in fact. megumi ceased his movements all together, scrambling to try and pull his pants over his hips as he tossed the panties to the side in an attempt to hide them. but it was already too late, he had been busted jerking off with your panties pressed to his face. his cheeks were just as red as yours, the both of you exchanging a look of ‘what the fuck’ for a brief moment before you padded over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“that’s literally humiliating, i would not want to be in your shoes right now.” you mocked, a toothy grin growing on your face as you watched his chest heave in anxiety. he didn’t know what to say or do, wanting nothing more than to just disappear from existence in that moment. “shut the fuck up oh my god. just– just get out!” stammering, he sat up in bed and huffed at you in exasperation. this only caused you to giggle under your breath, shaking your head gently as you slide your hand up the length of his leg before reaching the erection twitching in his sweats.

“well you started, might as well finish it.” your head was spinning in confusion, you never in a million years would have thought that megumi saw you like that. you were palming at his erection teasingly before his hand flung down and gripped your wrist tightly. you gasped, slightly taken aback, your eyes flickered into his with confusion written all over your expression.

he wasted no time in pushing you to your back, crawling on top of you before he made the decision to let go of your wrist. “listen, if you think that i’m actually attracted to you, you’re–” you cut him off swiftly, letting out a scoff and smirking at him. “oh, so you only find me attractive enough to sniff my panties while getting yourself off?” you retorted, your head tilting to the side as his body caged you in. “sounds like denial to me, ‘gumi.”

this only provoked him further, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration before looping his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and yanking them off with little to no effort. you shrieked, squirming to escape his grasp as you began to protest. “stop bein’ stupid and let me go, you asshole!” you whined, your body writhing underneath him only stroking his newfound ego all the more.

“oh, so your little pussy soaking your panties means you don’t want this? sounds like denial to me.” he snapped back like a rubber band, a cocky smirk gracing his glossy lips as he looked down at you. you rolled your eyes, a slight pout forming on your lips as your legs quivered. his hand reached in between your legs, pressing two fingers against the outline of your soaking wet folds through the panties. he didn’t expect you to give in so easily, but it didn’t exactly surprise him, either.

he rubbed up and down your aching slit with two of his fingers, entirely neglecting your swollen clit as if to tease you even more. you struggled a bit more, bucking your hips on his fingers for at least some stimulation on your swollen nub. he tsked, leaving a harsh smack on your sloppy cunt before rubbing his palm against it to soothe the sting. “you’re such an annoying slut, even in bed.” he husked out, his steel blue eyes eating up the way the thin fabric of your panties stuck to your pussy.

you mumbled out a small ‘sorry’ as you bucked your hips forward, in urgent need to get your pussy touched by him again. “not so hard, now is it? i just knew you were a cock hungry whore, scampering around the house in your dirty little panties to tease me..” he trailed off, two of his digits ghosting over your clit. “just admit it, you need me to fuck you.”

“i hate you.” you hissed back, your eyebrows furrowing in anger from the way he teased you. he pulled his fingers away, throwing a glare your way before shaking his head. “nah, i don’t think you do, y/n.” he cooed, his fingers running along the edge of your panties to provoke you further. “but i could make you hate me, if that’s what you want.” he snickered, his eyes darting between your angry expression and your throbbing core.

“fuck you, disrespectfully.” you still tried to show even an ounce of control, but deep down you wanted him. you knew it, and he did too. “so that’s how you like it?” he asked in a low grumble, slowly sliding your panties down your plump thighs. his gaze never left yours, your panties now hanging loosely at your ankles before you kicked them off to the end of the bed. 

megumi felt his breath catch in his throat from the sight of your leaky cunt, swallowing thickly, causing his adam’s apple to bob in its wake. he visibly shuddered in excitement when he finally made contact with your bare heat, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip in concentration as he swiped the pad of his thumb over your clit.

you let out a whiny yelp, reaching up to grip his shoulder as he continued pleasuring you. his chest was swelling with pride at this point, his pretty blue eyes fluttering closed as he felt your grip tighten with every movement of his finger. “such a pretty pussy.. i wanna taste it..” he groaned, his eyes snapping open to look at the way your arousal dripped down to your ass and onto the bed sheets below.

“i thought you said you weren’t attracted to me.” you snorted, batting your eyelashes at him with a knowing smile pulling at your lips. with this, megumi wasted no time in grabbing your panties and shoving them into your mouth. “do you ever shut your whorish mouth up or what?” he shoved them further into your mouth, causing you to gag and whine. the sight of you choking on your own panties made his cock twitch in his pants, a dark stain bleeding through his gray sweats.

“doesn’t feel so nice does it? choking on your panties, and you still need more. now you really understand how i felt.” still rubbing quick circles on your aching clit, his other hand gripped your inner thigh, digging the tips of his fingers into your skin and holding your legs open with ease.

“can’t say much now, can you?” your reactions amused him, his thumb never relenting from the pace he set on it. he reached up with his spare hand, spitting on his middle and index finger before swiping them against the edge of your needy little hole. he pushed them in slowly, his forearm tensing up from the way you gripped onto his digits.

“fuck, you’re so mmnhh– tight. for a greedy slut, that is.” he pumped his fingers in and out of your heat, his jaw falling slack as he watched his fingers slip in and out with a loud ‘squelch.’ you mewled at the feeling of his fingers sliding against your gummy walls, your eyes closing tightly as a sheer coat of sweat started to grow on your forehead. “please ‘gumi.. please fuck me.” you cried out, your syllables breaking with every thrust of his fingers.

the sight was absolutely marvelous from megumi’s point of view. the way your lips parted, your legs trembling and the way your eyes slammed shut in pleasure as he ravaged your insides with his fingers, fuck it was all almost too much for him to handle. he was finally able to put you in your place after months of torture with your bratty and unbearable attitude. 

“now you’re begging, such a good little whore.” he chimed, his fingers curling upwards into your g-spot, his wrist moving back and forth rapidly. your body tensed up, your hands gripping the sheets below you until your knuckles turned a pearly shade of white. “i’m so close.. i’m so close.. please..” you sobbed, your hips lifting off the mattress to match the thrust of his fingers.

megumi halted his movements, watching you writhe and cry from your orgasm fizzling away. “you’re not gonna get to cum that easily, sweetheart. you gotta work for it. you can do that for me can’t you, slut?”  he chuckled deviously, his fingers moving inside of you once again, you immediately clenched around his fingers, that familiar feeling building in your tummy again.

“gonna cu–” you were immediately cut off, his fingers pulling all the way out and leaving you empty. you squealed in displeasure, a flood of frustration filling your veins as your hips stuttered forward in a desperate endeavor to reach an orgasm. megumi tsked again, biting the inside of his cheek briefly before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your clit. 

“don’t worry, i’ll let you cum. eventually.” he goaded, running the tip of his tongue up your slit to lap at your juices. this elicited a blissful groan from megumi, his tongue diving into your throbbing hole and licking upwards to gather more of your slick. your hands shot down to tangle in his jett black hair and pull him closer to your pussy, your moans unwavering as he slurped up your cunt like his last meal.

“me– megumi!” you gasped, your thighs slamming closed around his head. he removed his tongue from inside your cunt, licking up your folds to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. he swiftly pulled your thighs apart, pinning them down to the mattress as he continued to suck your clit hungrily, his tongue sliding against it. your eyes rolled into your skull, your head falling backwards onto his silken pillows. “i’m– fuck. i’m gonna cum.” you choked out, your voice muffled from the panties in your mouth as your fingers grasped at his hair tighter, your hips grinding against his lips.

he let out a hum of approval, the vibrations of his voice shooting through your mound as you squeaked out in pleasure. your long awaited orgasm finally crashed over you, your back arching off the bed and your legs trembling as your tight walls pulsated and fluttered continuously. megumi collected your cum on his tongue, swallowing down every last drop that dripped from your pleasure-ridden cunt.

your chest heaved as you finished riding out your high, looking down to find megumi already slipping his painfully hard cock out of his sweats. “your pussy tastes better than i could have imagined, the panties didn’t do you nearly enough justice.” he said, his voice laced with pure and utter arousal. he gently plucked the panties from your mouth, shooting you a devilish smirk. you whined, your head falling back again as he pressed the tip to your entrance.

“now it’s my turn, greedy slut.” he pushed the tip in, your walls struggling to accommodate his length as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. he trembled, taking a deep breath through gritted teeth as he pushed in to fill you up to the hilt. you shrieked, a sting shooting through your inner walls from the sudden stretch. you reached upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold yourself together while you adjusted to his size.

he remained still, his patience running thin as he felt your hot gummy walls coil around his cock. “i’m gonna move now, so be the good little slut you are and take it.” he growled, reaching up with one of his hands to grip your chin firmly. he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, letting your slick cum coat his dick entirely before setting a pace.

his hips slammed into you ruthlessly, the bulbous tip of his cock grazing over all of your sweet spots with every thrust of his hips. he fucked you like his life depended on it, he’d rather die than have to stop fucking you. months of fantasizing about your tight pussy, and he was finally getting it.

your cum from your previous orgasm splattered with every harsh thrust into your pussy. still reeling from the way your walls gripped him like a vice, megumi let out a strained moan and slammed his eyes shut tightly. his hand slid down your chin to your neck, squeezing the sides lightly while his other hand grazed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

“i want this off, wanna see how pretty your tits look when they bounce.” he grumbled, his hand getting closer to the hem of your shirt to pull it over your chest. he gasped slightly, his eyes drinking up every curve of your breasts before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking softly. you wiggled underneath him, the sensitivity making your head feel like it was going to explode. he pulled off your sensitive bud with a subtle ‘pop’, his dark eyes finding yours to send you a threatening glance. you immediately knew what it was for, trying your best to hold still as you clamped down on the cock that was currently splitting you open. 

“that’s more like it, good girl.” he praised with a hum, running his slick hot tongue across your nipple again before sucking it between his lips. he drifted the hand that was gripping your neck tightly down to your other breast, kneading at the flesh. his hips began to stutter from the way your gummy wet walls clenched around him, an exasperated huff coming from his chest.

you could tell he was getting close from the way his manhood twitched inside of you, and you really weren’t far behind him. “i– i’m gonna cum ‘gumi.. ‘m so close..” whimpering and moaning, megumi rutted his hips into you faster. a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as he looked down at you all fucked out on his cock.

“i– fuck. i’m close too. go ahead and cum for me, slut.” he permissed harshly, his hand gripping your tit tighter as he felt you unravel around him. your second orgasm hit you like a truck, your head light and spinny as it rolled to the side. sobs and moans tore through your throat, pleads of his name rolling off your tongue as your slick absolutely drenched his dick.

this threw megumi over the edge, gritting his teeth, his thrusts became a lot less calculated and a lot more sloppy. “gonna cum inside of you, make sure you really know your fucking place.” he mumbled in finality– his cock now pushed right against the entrance to your womb as he filled you up with his load.

you hissed, sucking in air through your teeth as you felt his hot cum paint your walls. megumi’s arms shook as he held himself up, choking back moans as he came down from his high. once you were both finished and panting, you looked at each other in a certain way that had you both holding back laughter.

he pulled his softening dick out of you, hurriedly getting up from the bed to grab a rag. “fuck fuck fuck such a mess.” he stammered, reaching you to wipe up the cum that was beginning to leak from your insides. you cackled breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he cleaned you up, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

“you literally just came in me, and you’re worried about the mess?” provoking him in your fucked out state was the wrong idea. he laid another harsh smack on your clit, causing a loud shriek to rip out from your lungs. he smirked, swiping your leaking slit once more before tossing it in the dirty bin.

“you just became a slut for my cock and you already forgot how to speak to me?” he paused, sliding on a new pair of boxers as he looked down at you all sprawled out on his sheets. “i thought you were pretending to be stupid, but maybe you really are.” you scoffed, your hand gripping your chest in faux offense before speaking. “i hate you so much.” you mumbled, your lips forming into a small pout causing a throaty chuckle to bubble up in megumi’s chest. “i promise, i hate you more.”

[scribbling-dragon]

as promised,, here's the few headcanons I've currently got bouncing around in my docs/notes!

- BigB was slightly changed by his time in the mesa. not changed in the same way other people have been by the Games, but just enough to be noticeable. his feet don't make a sound, even when other's do. when he walks over sand, or snow, or freshly turned dirt, he leaves no footprints behind, as though he was never there in the first place. When you turn your head away from him, enough that you can barely see him from the corner of your eye, he changes. his limbs are out of proportion and nothing seems Quite Right. when you look back, everything is normal. there is no hole in the mesa.

- martyns a fucken cat. half of the time he looks as though he's just walked through the worst rainstorm in the world, even if it's currently sunny.

- do not approach the secret keeper just before dawn. It does things then that are only barely veiled beneath the darkness. if you look closely, you may see Its assistant (though perhaps that "assisstant" is the true mastermind).

- no-one's wounds are healing. they may eventually stop bleeding, so the players do not die of blood loss (a slow, creeping death may bring with it lots of dread, but it leaves a sour aftertaste for whoever consumes it), but the wounds remain gaping open.

- leading on from the previous one: martyn may have died, but some are secretly jealous that he is no longer walking around with open wounds. others are simply glad that they do not have to try and find an unmarred piece of skin to look at while they talk to him anymore.

- their secret tasks are each given to them in a small book, one that they must keep on their person at all times. with these books came personalised little holders for each player, so they can have it resting at their hip for easy access. these "book holsters" are just large enough for the book and nothing else. these holsters cannot be burned or damaged or destroyed in any way. whoever made them must have known the players well, with all the small hints to their personality within the design.

- skizz was the first to discover that you could additionally customise the book holsters, as he was doodling "Love Island" onto it to see if the alliance name would stick. it did, and others began writing their own alliance names on it, sitting and customising their holsters together so they could all match.

- jimmys "book holster" has a rather unique design compared to everyone else's. his holster is visibly falling apart, deteriorating throughout the day. only once he manages to complete his task does his holster get restored to its original condition, though with gold stitching highlighting where it has been pieced back together. he does not know what will happen if his holster falls apart completely (he's not sure he wants to know).

[kachowden]

i have so many questions 😵‍💫 why did Chris and reader break up?? I'm addicted to him already and he's now my favorite oc you have (next to apis hehe)

(I’d recommend listening to “Somebody that I used to know” while reading this lil tidbit)

“I’m Sick of your shit Chris.”

Chris? Chris? When was the last time you called him that. That wasn’t his name. It was Christophe. Say Christophe.

Not Chris.

“Yeah? Well maybe if you were smarter you wouldn’t have anything to be sick of.”

This had happened a few times before. Christophe could acknowledge it being primarily his fault. But he wouldn’t tell you that. Nor would he apologize.

“Your jealousy is out of fucken control and you know it!” Your finger stabbed painfully into his chest. He wavered. “That guy you punched was my tutor! You know I was failing that class! I needed his help!”

“You didn’t need Jack shit from that asshole! If you needed help with something you should’ve asked me!”

“I didn’t wanna deal with your bitchy attitude!”

He scoffed.

“Yeah well looks who’s being a bitch now. God you’re so fucken annoying.”

Ah fuck. That definitely wasn’t the right thing to say.

The air was thick. This…was different then your usual arguments and Christophe could tell. The look you gave him made him cringe. An apology was on the tip of his tongue. It was like chewing lead though.

He sighed, his fists clenching and unclenching as you glared at him.

“Look Y/n…I’m-“

“We’re done.”

Fear. Cold, striking fear.

“What?”

Your brows which had been scrunched up, in what his opinion was a cute way, relaxed. Your eyes closed, and the rage that pooled in them was replaced with an apathetic, almost sad, neutrality. You looked…tired. And it made his heart tremor and cry.

“We’re done Chris. I’m done. I can’t handle this anymore.”

Stop.

“I don’t know what happened. You used to be such a wonderful person…”

He still was. He just wanted to keep you safe!

“I loved you so much.”

You still do! Don’t fucken say that! You still loved him and he still loved you so stop fucken talking!

“Now you’re just an asshole. I can’t be around you anymore.”

Don’t say that. Please.

“You make me sick.”

Shut up.

“Shut up.”

You frowned. It was pitiful. Like you were mourning something. Maybe your relationship. There shouldn’t have been anything to mourn though. You weren’t breaking up. You were still-

“It’s over, Christophe.”

“……”

It hurt so much watching you grab your bag and walk away. It burned like someone had dropped hot coal down his throat and into his chest. His heart was aching, and the first few tears were quick to sting his trembling brown eyes. Your figure blurred by the time you made it out the door.

The wall and his fists were battered and bruised within minutes.

He swore he couldn’t breathe.

“Y/n…”

Why didn’t he say anything? He did but it was “shut up.” Instead of “I’m sorry.” He should’ve said sorry. He should’ve gotten on his knees and begged you to give him a second chance. He’d do better. He’d carve it into his chest that he’d do better for you. He’d be the perfect boyfriend.

His pride was too much. Even for him. He was such a fucken coward.

The news that your tutor got busted for harassment towards other students didn’t reach you.

[archesa]

So... @celestialalpacaron 's Overlord Husk AU has lived rent free in my head for a week, and I woke up with a fucken flu and chose violence wrote something! Enjoy!

Spiked cosmopolitan

[tw : implied past rape/non-con, past substance abuse, attempted rape/non con, canon-typical violence, we're dealing with Angel Dust's trauma so... Valentino is its own warning, really...]

He could tell when his drink was spiked. The distinct and nauseatingly familiar taste of pheromones ruining what would otherwise be a perfectly good cosmopolitan.

It was part of his job to entertain the guests of the casino, to play the flirt or the lucky-charm and keep the gamblers at the table as long as their wallets allowed – sometimes longer, but that was on them. And a stray hand or a lewd remark was nothing out of the ordinary, but the dizziness invading him - choking him almost - after he downed his glass was new.

How much of a dose did that fucker spill in his drink? Or had the month he'd been working for Husk – and being mostly clean – ruined his resistance?

He caught a glimpse of the bartender reaching for a phone when he reeled and knocked over his glass, the expensive crystal shattering on the mahogany floor, but the shark – figurative and literal – he'd been baiting all night caught his arm and guided him away, to a more secluded area of the club.

"Weren't much of a lucky charm tonight, were you, whorebug. But perhaps you can still turn it around and get me a win."

"Get off me, fucka!", Angel warned, another pair of arms sprouting off him to push the asshole away.

"Playing fucking hard to get, now?"

Fog invaded his vision, red smoke and suffocating memories, as the guise of playful roughness slid and the fish faced bastard slammed him in the nearest wall. He fumbled to unsheathe the 'chastity dagger' he had been almost jokingly gifted on his first week on the job from his thigh but the 'no weapons behind this door' rule seemed to have slipped the bastard's mind and Angel froze, another wave of hardly repressed memories drowning him at the sight of the rhinestones set butt of a gun in the shark's breast pocket and cold steel suddenly pressed under his chin burned his last figment of resistance.

It should be easy, really.

Dissociate.

Disappear.

Drown as the delusion of freedom is stripped away from you.

The contact of the canon vanished and he barely heard the gunshot, splinters and wood dust raining on him, the scent of brimstone and powder overwhelming for a mere second as he slid to the floor, his aggressor turning away from him just long enough for the cane that had plummeted on his arm and broken his grasp to shatter his skull.

Feathers and fur invaded his vision. Blood and shadows. And the sound of bones breaking, repeatedly, as the shark had the guts – guts soon spilled on the floor – to turn his weapon on Husk.

A hand. An arm. A ribcage. A jaw.

Each hit of his ornamented cane was followed by a blood curling scream. Until finally, the shark went limp.

"Drag that pile o' shit in the alley and finish him.", the Overlord ordered, two hell-hounds in elegant tux executing his command right away.

The world faded, darkness chasing the red mist and the stench of fish and roofies with a strong scent of age-old bourbon and cologne.

'If anyone treats you like an ass, I'll have 'em shot.'

[dutybcrne]

Thinking abt Kaeya getting confessed to by someone he also loves very much. But instead of accepting or outright trying to run away, he ends up in tears, begging them to reconsider. To stop saying such things, indulging in something that will only hurt them in the long run.

[bl00dlight]

It couldn’t be more clear Helaena asks Aemond about the price he pays not because she’s mad he burned her husband (her reaction to Aegon’s return is flat and uncaring, they have never displayed any affection towards each other) but because she is serving as his conscience here. His lack of response is a clear answer, but we are supposed to understand she is playing the role of the audience and asking this to him. Not for herself or Aegon or even Alicent. But if they admit that they have to admit there is no canon relationship between Helaegon

Holy shit BALLSSSS THANK YOU! It's like I'm constantly shaking my head going? What show are yall watching?

Also Ewan has discussed this scene recently and confirmed that yea, Helaena is asking Aemond about himself. It has nothing to do with anyone's suffering but what is about to occur to him? Aemond subconsciously knows that the choice he is making is to basically destroy the idea of him as an 'honourable' man. Something which we've seen him strive for not because he IS honourable but because he wants the validation he feels be might get from it. Ewan has said that Aemond is in need of love, comfort and attention, to be seen, to be respected and validated. He knows he isn't going to get that from his mother via playing the role of the dutiful son, so what does he do? Fuck it all then. Fuck my brother, fuck the Madame, fuck Alicent, fuck everyone and everything who will make me weaker/hurts me/doesn't see me, I want the throne and I will get it no matter the price to myself.

Ewan talks about Aemond and Helaena being on the outside which is why they share an affinity. That they have been sidelined for Aegon. Aemond who is dealing with the fact he has been tormented by Aegon, disfigured and has also been dutiful his entire life; is proactive in proving himself superior to his brother; thus he happily takes the opportunity to seize the throne because he feels he is owed it. He doesn't need to reconcile with hurting Aegon, he wants to hurt him. He is reconciling and accepting what he is going to lose by doing this.

Thus why it's Helaena who even asks him this, because she is the only one who has a similar trauma to Aemond. She is looking at him throw everything to the wind and is going "Is the cost of the throne worth what you will lose?" And it's a neutral question for her, but yes she is tensed/stressed because she is watching Aemond drive himself into darkness. Again, Alicent the whole episode has been saying "My son is becoming a fucking sociopath, why is no one doing anything?"

THATS what Helaena is alluding to. The price of the throne is Aemond's own soul.

Helaena has been martially raped, used as a broodmare, ignored by her family, dismissed and invalidated/ made to feel deluded - retreats within herself, is highly observant of other people, experiences premonitions of the future/experiences the past, present and future all at once, which is completely overwhelming and has no understanding of the things she sees until they HAPPEN; warns others of it/gives illusions to it. She warned them of Meleys. She warned Aegon of B&C and now she warns Aemond of the price he will pay. Which happens in S1 where she LITERALLY SAYS "HE'LL HAVE TO CLOSE AN EYE" in order to claim Vhagar. That was the price he paid - and Aemond pays it. She is doing it again, warning him of what he will lose. Because why would she ask him "Was it worth hurting Aegon?" When the answer is obviously... yes... not only does Helaena not care about Aegon, she knows Aemond fucken hates him and actively sought out to kill him? So why would she ask him if the throne is worth killing Aegon, when the answer is yes because Aemond literally happily attempted to kill him already? She knows Aemond is willing to do it. She is questioning the sacrifice of his morality. Not if the wellbeing of Aegon is worth it?

She is warning Aemond of his own future, she is absolutely serving as his own consciousness in a way, asking if this will all be worth what he is going to lose in the process. And for Aemond, just like his eye - he is going to accept the price for the throne. To be in charge, to get what he feels is owed, since he knows he can't get it any other way.

Mfs are so insistent on characterisation between Helaena and Aegon which just is not there because they can't fathom the idea that their ship is based on the fact that Aegon and Helaena is not a relationship which exists beyond two ships passing in the night. That's literally it. Helaena and Aemond have had more memorable moments of connection and they've not even exchanged more than one line of dialogue in the entire series to one another.

[xotication]

☆,

biker! ken hcs! (& car! guy ken cuz why not??)

biker ken

he rides a ninja 400.

before meeting you, he was for sure reckless. but after the two of you got involved with each other, he promised himself he’d be a lil more careful for you

everyone knows riding a motorcycle is dangerous as fuck, so he never wanted to have you worried

sometimes there’s night where he may go a lil too fast & ends up getting chased by police..

he texts you & tells you to have the garage open so he can just come in & have you close it immediately.. trust, you end up reprimanding him

he always takes you on rides when the sun is setting. idc, he tells you it reminds him of you

does wheelies just to scare you

one day you ask him to teach you how to ride & he says “last i checked, you’re already good at that”

you were left confused until it hit you.. “that is NOT what i meant!”

whenever he gets hit on, he mentions you with so much quickness

if a girl does happen to ask for his number, he gives them yours 😭😭😭 they don’t even know until they text you

if he ever gets injured, the first person he goes to is you, even if he feels that you can’t help. you’re his sense of comfort

like boy could lose a whole leg nd he’d prob call you first to let you know LMAO

his friends hate you bc they say you made him “soft” but you disagree completely!!!

you fear for your life half the time you're his backpack

he speeds through the smallest little cracks between vehicles on the freeway

he uses anything as a ramp & you hate it

when he's making sharp turns he touches the fucken ground with his hand "look how close we are!"

whenever you're in your car & he's on his bike, he always gaps you nd you think it's so mean. yet, he laughs every time

sometimes when he picks you up, he makes sure to make the most noise ever. that's mainly how you can tell he's arrived

i feel like his wardrobe is all black. the only color he has are the clothes you buy for him bc you tease him for being too emo

you also buy him a pikachu skin for his helmet as a joke, but he ends up loving it

he plays deftones on his rides, that or cigs after sex idc.. maybe even sign crushes motorist.. i feel like he's always in his feelings LMAO

whenever you guys are stopped next to a bus or a big semi truck, he always touches it

records pop vids & sends them to you..

car guy ken!

i honestly don't know what kind of car ken would drive..

it's between a supra mk4, nissan 350/370z, or maybe a 2013 bmw 3 :>

i mainly see him in a supra ngl

but whatever car ken drives, he puts WORK into.

you love being around whenever he's working on his cars tho, he'll be all dirty with oils nd shit but its so rawr

ken gets excited over new car parts too

one time you bought him a carbon fiber front bumper and he damn near cried over it

he put starry lights on the roof of the inside of his car to give you something pretty to look at

he lets you keep your little essentials in his glove department or his arm rest

you leave a scrunchie around his gear shift & glosses in his cup holder, plus lil makeup wipes in the lil side compartment on the door

i fear ken has road rage.. he hates slow drivers and flips people off so fucken often

not only that but this man never goes the speed limit???

his car is all blacked out.. so flying down dark highways with his headlights off is his fav thing to do

he hates when you opt out for driving your car.. especially when there's other cars being loud nd making noise. he feels left out, like a puppy taken from its owner

"baby, i wanna make noise too.." with the biggest pout you've ever seen.

one day he suggests that you guys save up for miatas so that your cars can make cute faces at each other & date. it was the sweetest idea ever

car guy ken handles all your car troubles. he's like your personal mechanic

he does donuts in empty parking lots

he did a burn out in your exes drive way & you didn't find out until said ex texted you fucken PISSED

"ken what the fuck??" "what.." "you know what!" "nuh uh."

takes you to car meets so he can teach you more about different cars & the mods you can add to them

can tell a car from the sound the engine is making..

lets you drive his car once & it was the scariest thing he'd ever done

"SLOW DOWN PLEASE"

"i'm going 70!??!"

"this is my baby, i don't want you to crash..."

whenever a car passes him, he takes it as a challenge & gaps them.