#just flaunts the fuck out of their relationship as much as he can and as much as charon will let him

[bokunoheros]

ཐིཋྀ KINKTOBER DAY 9 - virginity loss : izuku midoriya

warnings : virginity loss (izuku), afab reader, mentions of body counts, non-relationship hookup (but deku has a thing for reader), reader calls izuku “izu”, oral sex (izuku receiving), reader has decent sized boobs, cliffhanger kind of

word count : 840

🐙 note : none

it wasn't really surprising that izuku was a virgin, hell i’m sure anyone could’ve guessed that much. the conversation took a weird turn when discussing izuku’s fated rival; katsuki bakugo. izuku explained that katsuki is a well known bragger who loves to flaunt his body count, he constantly expresses how izuku will never catch up to him and how because the boy has no experience no girl will ever want to sleep with him.

“well… do you wanna have sex with me?”

the question stuns izuku, turning him bright red and causing him to panic, he asks if you’re sure and mumbles about how there’s no way someone like you would ever wanna sleep with someone like him! he continues to go on a ramble about how you’re just so cool and pretty and your quirk is amazing and, and, and–

you stop and put your hands on izuku’s shoulders, he freezes and stares with a blank expression.

“we can have sex izuku, i don’t mind teaching you.”

izuku feels a mix of many emotions; pride, worry, confusion, just to name a few. slowly you drag izuku by the hand into your bed, gently laying him down and getting on top of him.

“don’t worry deku, just relax.”

“o-okay! i’ll do my best!”

you almost laugh at the poor guy, as optimistic as ever. you find yourself somewhat shocked at the way midoriya feels beneath you, despite being on the shorter side he was far from a twig; you could feel his solid abs and thick thigh muscles.

“have you ever had your dick sucked izu?”

“umm… no?”

“do you want me to?”

izuku nods enthusiastically, you get off his lap and lower yourself towards his thighs. carefully you settle between them, looking up at him with eager eyes that causes him to go red all over. you gently remove his basketball shorts and are met with his bare thighs and black boxers, you unexpectedly gawk at him, surprised by his muscle and pretty good size. pulling off his boxers you find that he’s about 5.7 inches, thick and red from embarrassment.

you look up to him for approval and he sends you a thumbs up, you giggle at his dorky behaviors. you lightly grab his length and izuku’s breath catches in his throat. keeping eye contact with him you slowly lick up his side and kiss his pretty pink tip, izuku shutters at the feeling and finds himself struggling not to make noise.

“you can make noise y’know, you have a cute voice.”

midoriya can hardly think, the feeling of your warm hand and breath by his cock too much for him to handle. he simply hums at your words and tells you he’s okay, you smile at him and continue to give his cock attention.

you swirl your tongue around his tip, using your hand to massage his extended length. taking his tip into your mouth you suck lightly and izuku swears he could see stars, he wonders if kacchan feels this good when he gets head. suddenly his thoughts get interrupted when you take the whole of him into your mouth, he gasps, unable to contain himself he brings his hand to your head and tugs on your hair making you moan onto his cock. izuku is whimpering and thrashing about, so much so that it’s affecting your ability to properly suck him off.

“izu, stop moving so much.” you manage to get out with your mouth still surrounding his cock.

with his eyes closed and head back he lets out a strained “uh-huh” and bucks his hips into your mouth, you moan at his length and he can’t help himself from doing it again.

“i’m sorry-sorry it feels–sososo good”

now izuku is practically face fucking you, albeit gently, he’s thrusting into your mouth and tugging lightly on your hair. you look up and find him absolutely lost, one hand on his abs and his mouth wide open, gasping and panting for air.

“ah! feels-feels funny, is this s-supposed to happen?”

you hum around his dick and he continues to push himself onto your tongue, you move your tongue up and down on him to encourage him closer to the edge.

eventually you feel a warm and thick substance invading your mouth, letting you know he came. izuku is panting and groaning, trying to catch his breath. he immediately lets go of your hair and rambles continuous apologizes, you have to force your mouth into his in order to get him to shut up.

he melts into the kiss, slightly unsure of quite how to kiss. his hands remain at his sides, too scared to touch you, unsure of where his hands should be.

you break the kiss and grab his hands, moving them onto your waist and breasts. izuku seems hesitant but eventually squeezes the areas softly. he’s kind of surprised, your skin was so soft and warm and your boobs were so squishy and bouncy.

“do you think you can go for more?”

[gloomwitchwrites]

LOVED the sit down fics. Please consider: US telling THEM to sit down. What are they going to do? Argue and sleep on the couch? (Love your works!! Always makes my day when I see a new one)

AHHHHHHHHH! ANON OMG! I love this. I giggled and kicked my feet the entire time I was working on these. I had so much fun jumping back into the Imagines Series after Kinktober with this prompt. While I'm still working through the 3.5k Spooky Bingo event, I am returning to my usual content.

For those curious, THIS is the fic that Anon is referring to.

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, suggestive themes, flirting, arguments, swearing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“John. We have to talk about this.”

“We are talking.”

“No. We’re arguing. And you’re not listening.”

“Of course I’m listening, love.”

“Then what did I just say?” you ask, exasperated.

John opens his mouth and then pauses. He loses steam, the gears turning as he realizes he’s wrong. He takes a deep breath and then holds up his hands. “If I’m being honest, love—”

“Fuck. Sit down, John.”

Your tone is sharp, and John drops into a chair, completely silent, his gaze locked in on you.

“If you are not going to listen to me, then I’m ending this discussion. We can come back to this later. When we’re calm.”

John is always the steady one. He’s your rock, but for whatever reason, this one discussion has transformed into an argument.

There is silence after, and you have no idea what John thinks of your sudden authoritative demeanor. His face is blank, and then his mouth turns up into an amused smile.

“What?” you ask, suddenly flustered.

John relaxes into the chair, spreading his thighs wide in invitation. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re angry, love.”

“Don’t distract me, John,” you mutter, the irritation beginning to melt away.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"We're having this out," says Kyle, grabbing your upper arm. He tugs you against him, head tipping forward in an intimate gesture.

"I don't want to argue with you," you reply.

"And I'm not done." His tone is calm but firm. Whenever Kyle sets his mind to something, it can be difficult for him to change course.

"Well, I am." Kyle's hold on your upper arm tightens a bit. It's not painful, but he draws you closer. "Now, sit down."

"Wha—"

"Sit. Down."

Kyle draws back, startled. His hold loosens and descends to grasp your wrist as he sinks onto the sofa. You rarely assert yourself, but you're frustrated with him.

“I am done fighting about this. Either we find a compromise, or we end this discussion.” Kyle breathes deep, his gaze intense as you continue. “You can sleep out here if you won’t budge.”

“I sleep beside you,” replies Kyle.

“Then talk to me. Don’t push me around.”

Kyle’s hand on your wrist softens, his thumb gently caressing the inside of your palm. It makes you shiver, and Kyle pulls you closer. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, voice soothing.

"Can we talk now? No fighting?"

"No fighting," he agrees.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Irritation bubbles under your skin, creating a buzzing sensation that puts you on edge. You and Simon rarely fight but the two of you always circle back to the same issue.

“I’m sick of talking in circles. We have to figure this out.”

The corner of Simon’s mouth twitches. “I’ve already told you how I feel about it,” he says.

“I understand but we have to find a compromise.”

“I’m not willing to budge on this.”

“Simon—"

He pushes in, invading your space. “You’re the one that’s undecided.”

You hate being bossed around, and you hate it more when Simon flaunts his dominance during a disagreement.

“Sit down,” you growl.

Simon blinks, startled. “What?”

“Sit. Down.”

Simon’s gaze narrows, the middle of his brow creasing. But he sits, settling on the sofa.

“I understand how you feel but I need you to listen to how I’m feeling. This is a big decision, and I want us to talk through things. I’m not just going to bend over and take it.”

“But you like it when I bend you over.”

“Simon Riley!”

Simon smirks “Need to let out a little steam?”

“Yes,” you mutter, flustered. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Arguments with Johnny almost always end in sex.

He’ll use his tongue, his fingers, and then eventually his dick until you’re blissfully fucked out of your head.

“You are not distracting me,” you say sharply as Johnny moves in, a sly smile on his face.

His hands settle on your waist, gripping tightly. You know if you don’t get a handle on this now, you’ll be face down in the bed with ass in the air in moments. It’s Johnny’s favorite position.

Placing your hands on Johnny’s chest, you give him a bit of a shove, creating space. “Sit down, Johnny.”

Johnny’s eyebrows rise suggestively. With a sauntering sway, Johnny sits on the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless and wearing grey sweatpants. They hang dangerously low on his hips.

You cover your eyes. “We need to have a conversation that doesn’t end in sex.”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“Of course you don’t,” you mutter.

“I like it when you boss me around.” You can feel his heat just before his arms slide around you.

“Oh my God,” you groan, pushing at his chest. “Sit down.”

Johnny teasingly nips at your neck. “Only if you sit in my lap.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@umno-yeah @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[onlyswan]

i’m back to give you my iw!couple brain rot 🤲, please handle with care.

but !! imagine jungkook and oc doing that “see how long we can go without kissing” challenge !! how would fold first? they’re both so competitive but smitten it makes me conflicted. 😣😣

knowing them, jungkook would be twitching his eye just from the thought of being deprived kissies so would oc give in first to let him win? or would jungkook just take what’s his?? 🤔

imagine oc being a blushing mess from staring at jungkook’s face for too long 😵‍💫 THEYRE SO CUTE I CANT THINK STRAIGHT😭🫶

summary: in which jungkook is twenty-six years old and yet… you still give him butterflies.

idol!jk x reader, established relationship / word count: 0.7k

content/warnings: sexual tension, making out, it’s honestly just them fighting over who gets to be on top

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe hi anonie… sorry… i kindaaa got carried away… i had to write out the thing or else i would’ve gone insane just talking about it <3 (written with love and care) <3

—

“i don’t understand this challenge.”

“me neither,”

jungkook remains in a hypnotic-like trance, doe eyes trained to your lips stained with a lighter shade of mixed red and brown.

“we’re this close and we can’t kiss…? this is absurd.”

“do they actually do this in bed? with someone on top?” you chuckle as you coyly twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. “i don’t think so?”

“i don’t know. i just wanted you to be comfortable.” he teasingly brushes his nose against yours, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended. “since, you know, we’ll be here a while.”

“oh wow. bringing me to bed, really? you’re that confident?”

he cockily raises an eyebrow. “hm, we both know you won’t be able to resist me here. you’re all over me all the time.”

you try not to roll your eyes in annoyance. and you also both know that you’re just as competitive, if not more.

“oh my god, you,” you mumble. the calm of your voice contrasts the aggressive push of your hand against your boyfriend’s naked chest. “and your stupid arrogance and your stupid need to flaunt your stupid hot body.”

in the blink of an eye, jungkook finds you stradding him, and himself, trapped underneath your body. he blinks in disbelief, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“this is dirty.”

you remove his glasses, moving it aside without care. “that’s just your mind.”

okay, perhaps bringing you to bed was a bad idea.

you lean down, slowly, close and then closer— it’s quite ridiculous that he’s nervous as if he doesn’t know what is bound to happen next: he’s thoroughly convinced that you’re going to kiss him.

once he feels your lips ghost over his, mere millimeters away, his eyelids flutter shut.

terrible idea. terrible.

the kiss, much to his disappointment, never happens.

he opens his eyes and your face is suddenly tucked in the space between his neck and shoulders, giggling and shaking and positively amused.

he turns away and squeezes his eyes shut. a painful admit of defeat against your infinite allure. “ah, i’m fucked.”

“we’ll get there later,” you lift your head, tilting his chin to face you.

you smile and scoot closer. so close that your bottom lips grazes his. he fails to remember the last time the two of you touched as chastely, as softly, but it felt like accidentally touching a live wire. he gets a funny feeling in his stomach. butterflies…? he’s twenty-six years old. he must be losing his mind.

“after you lose.”

“that’s not happening, baby.”

“yes, it will.”

“i won’t give up so easily.”

you give him an innocent look. “but i really think you will.”

you stare at each other for a little while, anticipating the other’s next move.

“fuck- yeah, okay-” he grits his teeth, taking advantage of his strength to finally flip back your positions. you’ve had your fun. “you’re right.”

“babe! ru-”

your surprised gasp is cut off by jungkook’s lips crashing on yours— curved into a smirk, you can feel it. your whines are muffled and swallowed by him, wrists caught in his hands and over your head because you were hitting his shoulder and he just wanted to kiss his baby properly.

“you lost,” you remark quietly when he draws back, only inches away, to scatter kisses along your face and down to your neck.

it tickles, you squirm in pleasure when he reaches near your collarbone, but your hands are still tied.

you were supposed to have him underneath you as a hot and flustered mess, not the other way around. damn it.

“really?” he feigns interest, lips finding their way back to yours. “doesn’t feel like it.”

[ynsbarbbb]

down bad | d. ricciardo

hypothesis - daniel is not ready nor is he willing to leave this thing behind.

pairing - daniel ricciardo x fem!baker!reader

[fic is inspired by “down bad” by taylor swift]

“fuck it if i can’t have us, i might just not get up, i might stay down bad”

“y/n,” your name slipped past his lips in a devastated sigh, eyes big as he stared at you. brown orbs drowning in a pool of tears.

a big, red suitcase sat on your bed, clothes haphazardly thrown around and you, sitting there on the foot end of the bed, messy hair surrounding your face and one of your favourite tops scrunched up in your hands.

daniel’s feet is glued to the hardwood floor by the door, his mind swimming, “wh—what are you doing?”

he looks around the room, your belongings, their familiar spots now empty. a sob escapes your mouth and you crumble from the edge of the bed down to the floor, ankles crossing and knees bucking up.

“i can’t do this anymore, daniel.”

his feet moves him to crouch in front of you, “baby, what are you talking about?”

you look up at him, “this,” you gesture around you with your hand, “the spotlight, the constant hate, the amount of time you leave.”

“let’s talk about it, yeah?” daniel asked, his voice hoarse. he’s swallowing at the lump in his throat, as he moves to sit down.

chuckling, you throw the top to the side, “what’s there to talk about? i’m a baker, i bake cakes, in a small town. and you,” you sniff and wipe your nose with the back side of your hand, “you travel the world, you race, everyone knows about you.”

he nods, “baby, i still don’t see the problem here.”

“i’m out of your league, i’m so far out of your league. i don’t fit into this lifestyle, i can’t flaunt money anywhere i go.”

daniel takes hold of your hands, “where’s all of this coming from, honey?”

you look up at him, and reach your arm back on the bed where you have thrown your phone after spending hours reading what his fans had written about you.

his fans, the people that would run to the end of this world to support him, that go to his every race to shout his name as he passes the finish line, the people he confided in the most when he started dating you.

“i can talk to them, disable our comments on our posts, hell, baby, i’ll even delete all social media,” daniel says, his eyes not leaving the phone. his eyes reading every comment twice and his heart swelling and breaking.

switching off the phone, you stand up and grap the top you had thrown to the side, “don’t bother, it’ll either way just get worse.”

daniel shoots to his feet, grabbing the things you had haphazardly throw into the suitcase and putting it on the bed.

he’s not going to loose you. he won’t.

“y/n, please don’t do this, it’s almost winter break, we can go somewhere private, just us. we can work this out, we will get past this,” daniel is practically begging, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he keeps on swallowing on the lump.

your shoulders sag, “daniel, stop,” you place the jeans in your suitcase and walk up to him to take his hands in yours, “find someone else, someone who fits into this life, who will walk it with you every step of the way. there are so many women out there who’ll be better and much more supportive than i am, and someone who can handle a bunch of teenage girls’ comments.”

daniel shakes his head wildly and grips your hands tighter, “no, no, fuck all else if i cannot do this with you. i don’t need someone else, God, i only want you. i am my best when i am with you, y/n, forget those fucking comments. remember what i said in the beginning of this relationship?” daniel’s hands moved up to cup your face, wiping at the wetness under your eyes, nodding his head,

“it’s us, baby, it’s us against all else,” his voice breaks as he said it. he bites his lips, the tears he was forcing away finally slips down his cheeks.

“i will fight, y/n, i will fight for us. i will fight for you. i will fight anyone who is against us, because, baby, i will not survive this night if you walk out those doors,” he moves to tuck those little hairs around your face behind your ears.

you nod your head as best as you can with daniel’s large calloused palms holding it. falling into him, resting your head on his chest and securely wrapping your arms around him, you believe him.

because, against all odds, you weren’t ready to leave, to leave everything you’ve accomplished together.

you weren’t ready to loose daniel. to loose his jokes, his comfort that comes with his presence, his laugh that made everyone in the room giggle, his hands that easily engulfed yours, his shoulder when you needed someone to lean on. you weren’t ready to loose that.

his chest heaved with a sigh of relief as he rested his chin on the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your shoulders tightly.

“it’s us against it all, yeah?”

with your face smushed into his chest, a mumbled agreement sealed with a kiss to your forehead is all both you and daniel needed to know that none of you were going anywhere anytime soon.

fin.

[evansonlylove]

id share my power with you forever

-kai anderson x female reader

CW: Smut 18+, slapping, choking, toxic relationship, rough, p n v, abuse? body marking, jealousy. kai being kai. mentions of murder, gun. exhibition. . !!Loving kai!!

Summary: Kai had been getting closer to his members but you noticed one girl in particular. She always touched kai and flaunted herself in front of him for you to see until you finally had enough as he wasn’t stopping it. He shows you just how much he really loves you♥️(other woman is h/n)

“It’s time for a revolution, a revolution i want you all to be a part of. i’ll give you purpose” Kai said as he walked around the room, looking at all of us sitting down. He’d talked to you about the type of people he wanted, the power he wanted and such yet it surprised you every time he talked. “Real power is having people loyal enough to you that, if you ask them to, they will kill themselves. they will override their natural survival instinct in service for your needs and will.” He turns to a girl sitting infront and looks down at her, seeing her admiration as easy target. “I’ll give you.. give you all something to be a part of. someone to serve for the best”

It was all for a cause right? you shouldn’t be jealous, he’s just doing his job. You remembered when you were that girl, the innocent girl he longed for that opened his cold heart. But he loved you you just need to be secure in that, and you were until she did everything possible to have him. She wasn’t even threatened or cared to do it infront of you and it drove you crazy.

“Hey h/n I need to talk to you, meet me in my room when you’re done with that will you?” being the leaders girlfriend came the perk of the members listening to you as well, you were going to put an end to her one way or another. Finally she walks in, but of course wearing the shortest shorts known to man kind and skimpiest shirt. “Lock the door please and sit down” You pulled out a chair for her as you stayed standing up. “So I see what you keep doing, wearing these clothes infront of MY boyfriend. What are you looking to get?”

“What do you think? I obviously want him, i could easily take him for you” She said and looked up at you with teasing eyes and a laugh.

“Oh? you really think so?” Your hand goes up to her neck choking and pushing it back. “Id love to see you actually try, because all you’ve done is dress like a whore and it’s done nothing” Reaching into your back pocket you pull out a gun Kai had given you for protection and put it right up to her head. “But try it, try it and i’ll fucking kill you. After all I am Kai’s girlfriend, I know a thing or two” Suddenly you hear the door open, turning around you see Kai shirtless with his beautiful blue hair half up in a bun.

“What the fuck is happening here?” He questioned as he walked closer and sees who’s in the chair.

“Just telling this stupid whore she should stop trying to take you from me… or i’ll kill her” You whisper into her ear and feel kai’s hand around your waist making a smile appear on your lips.

“Pfft, her attempts have be pathetic but i’ll tell you something” He turns its body to you while you still have the gun pointed to her head “You can kill her, or I can show you how much I ONLY love you” His head leans down and in to kiss you.

“Get the fuck out of here, try again and i’ll kill you for real” You look at her and point to the door but kai has other plans.

“No no let her stay, let her see how much i love you. Make her watch what she’ll never have” He gave you a smirk before locking the door with a key this time. “And you sit the fuck down, don’t talk” Letting you go he leaned down to her face level. “All you ever were was a easy target to serve me, if you thought anything else than you really are a stupid whore” he practically spit his words at her.

You put your gun down on your drawer and got down on your knees infront of kai, his fingers ran through your hair as he looked down at you. “What a pretty girl you are” You really were the prettiest girl he had ever seen, always especially pretty when you looked up at him on your knees ready to serve him. Reaching your hands up you undo his jeans and bring them down, seeing his hard cock in his underwear you bit your lip and slowly jerked him off as he pulled them down. Holding his cock in your hands you slid it on your lips before kissing his tip and taking him into your mouth fully. “Fuck, you’d never be able to take this cock like her”.

You looked over at her as he ran his hands to the back of your head and fucked your mouth, the groans coming out of his mouth was the cherry on top, It felt like electricity through your body. Once he was close he pulled out of your mouth and pulled you up by the back of your head, he placed a kiss on your lips before turning you around and slapping your ass. Slowly he pulled your pants off along with your panties, you took your shirt off and threw it to the side. “Look at these fucking ass and tits, you think you can compete with my pretty little slut?” Her face ran red when he showed you off. “I asked you a question bitch” He walked over to her and slapped her across the face before she answered.

“No- no i can’t compete with her”

“That’s fucking right” he says before laying you down on the bed, kissing down your body and licking a stripe up your pussy. “This cunt is all I need” He lays a kiss on your clit and spits on your already wet pussy, suddenly he flips you on all fours and holds onto your hips as he pulls you onto his cock.

“Fuck, kai you feel so good” you moan out while he pounds your pussy from the back, reaching down he lifts your upper body towards him holding you up by your neck. He lays kisses on your neck still thrusting into you. You turn your head around leading into a passionate kiss between you two, his groans going into your lips making you throb around his cock.

“Show her how good you ride me” He whispers into your ear as he lays down. You straddle him in reverse cowgirl so you can look at her face while you do so, kai leads his cock to your entrance as you slide down. “Tell her how good this divine cock feels in you, show her it’s all yours”

Holding in your moans you look at her while still going up and down on him. “His divine fucking cock feels so good in my pussy, and it’s all fucking mine” Kai held onto your ass and gave you a slap showing how proud he was. His cock hit the perfect spot in you every time you went down.

“Don’t hold back your moans, show that bitch the pleasure i’ll never give her” And just like that you let go, moans coming out of your mouth and filling the room along with the sounds of your ass hitting his hips with each move you made. “Yeah just like that, so fucking hot for me” His hands holding onto your hips so hard you felt the bruises forming.

“Divine ruler I need to cum, im so close please” He lifted you off his cock and put you on your back

“Not just yet, you’re cumming with me” Sliding his cock back into your wet cunt. Your orgasm building up again with his hand cupping your breast as he leaned down kissing and sucking on your breasts leaving hickeys and marks all over you. Your head rolled back in pleasure feeling his hands all over your and his cock thrusting deep into you.

“God I love you and your cock my divine ruler” You moaned out before his hand reached your chin pulling your head to look at him.

“Yeah baby? look at me while I fuck you and this perfect wet little cunt” His hands squeezed your cheeks causing your mouth to open as he spit down your throat. You swallowed immediately looking into his eyes with a slutty smile on your face. “I fucking love you ” Your legs shook around him as your orgasm came close to you again, you felt his thrusts get harder as he groaned into your ear. “I’m gonna cum inside this cunt while that stupid bitch watches, you ready to cum with me my little lamb?”

“Fuck yes, give my cunt your seed my God” He held your hands at your side as he let out his final thrust pushing you over the edge screaming his name while you came all over his cock, milking his cum into your desperate pussy. It was all unreal, he gave you unreal pleasure. You leaned up and pulled him into a kiss while he was still inside of you he pulled you up to sit.

“Let’s go finish her off” He whispered into your ear as you stood up with him and walked towards her with his cum dripping down your pussy.

“Oh look at how flustered you look, you dumb bitch you’ll never have him, I hope you were able to learn that. I don’t want to have to lose a bullet on you.” You laughed and held kai’s hand.

“I wouldnt even pitty fuck you, keep that shit up and i’ll kill you myself” He pulls her hair back as she screeches in pain from his force. “What you just saw, that’s how I fuck the woman I love”

“Get out of my face and go do something useful with yourself” Right as she stood up you pulled her down on her knees, humiliating her once again. “Actually, thank him for letting you watch. He was being nice don’t you think?”

“yes, yes thank you divine ruler for letting me see how- how much you only love her” She stuttered out making a laugh come out of both of you.

“What a pathetic bitch. All you do here is obey me and y/n and that’s it, don’t walk around like a slut trying to get me to pitty fuck you. Seriously get out now.” She walks out leaving you and kai alone, picking you up with your legs around him he kisses you.

“You’re the only one I want, i’d share my power with you forever”.

You look at him with confusion, you he loved having power and even deep inside you “knew” you were only a special follower to him. “I thought today had shown you i want us to be two, in this together. I want you to be the divine queen to these people, alongside me”

“Of course i will kai, you won’t regret this. I know how much trust you’re putting in me and i’ll never get out of my place, you’re still the divine ruler, i don’t mind ruling these people beside you but never above you” You lean in and leave kisses down his neck, all of what you thought before was wrong. He was genuine, you were different to him and opened a different side of him.

“You know it was hot to see you take charge of someone in the group, And you were right. Being with me has taught you a few things, i bet you even got a rush out of putting her in her place.”. You felt your heartbeat get faster as these words came out of his mouth, slowly he laid you down and laid beside you as you thought about everything. Kai changed you, made you realize the deepest parts of yourself and being entirely true to who you really are and desire.

“I did, I feel like i’ve been chasing a high like that. The only other time i feel it is when you take control and ruin me while loving me” You turned your body over and cupped his face with your hand, you were never a religious person but seeing him made you question that maybe God was real and took form in him. “But i have been craving something more…”

“Tell me” His hands wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him leaving your head on his chest. Before you answered you lifted your hand up to his rising and falling chest, his heartbeat not only gave him life but it did to you too.

“I’d kill for you and i know you’d kill for me. I’ve been in the group while you kill people with other members, I always see how your face changes as if something takes over you and you feel truly alive. I want that with you, I want that high with you.” His eyes almost lit up with your response, as if he has been waiting for this very moment.

“I knew you were fucking perfect for me” A almost sadistic smile spread on his face as he picked you up and placed you in his lap, immediately your lips crash together like they had many times before except this time there was a hunger for more and you knew you’d get that certain high soon enough. Everything felt as if it went into place, you knew how kai truly felt abiut you, you knew you weren’t just another member and you knew you had changed him somehow. Kai was still kai, but with love, love for you and only you forever.

part 2?

thank you all for reading, this was kinda quick and i’m thinking about writing a different version of this where they actually kill the other girl, or just a part two to this. not sure if you’ll like that so if you’re interested pls comment it lolll. all likes and reposts are so appreciated and make my day. i’m trying to grow my account and such but i’ve just started writing and i’m not sure what to do to grow it but thank you for your support ♥️- rain

[anantaru]

who do you think would be most likely to end up in a fwb arrangement (and catch feelings 🤭)?

including. kaveh & scaramouche

cw. [ex]plicit, friends with benefits, they’re idiots istg, fem! reader

— kaveh + will tell you he loves you during sex

kaveh's body was aflame and his frazzled chest heaves as he watches you go down on him, slowed movements and your touch bringing him afloat, as if underwater, and his eyes, they're aglow— purled with a dwelling pleasure when you squeeze him gently around his tip, your thumb patting over a thudding vein which was on the underside of his girth, embellishing his pretty, thick cock when your lips slant down at last, parting to wrap around his sizable dick.

"archons.." kaveh moans out the pleasure you set free in his frame, and he's licking his lips at the sheer sight of you, mouth watering as a heavy hand drops against the back of your head to move you up and down his bulging cock himself as you're eagerly running your tongue back and forth the sensitive skin to please him, make him cum inside your warmth, whilst the man was growing certainly impatient when you taste a couple droplets of his pre greatly overwhelming your taste buds;

yet then, it's when your entire ordeal of having this, so called, special relationship, which— let's be honest now, was fairly confusing in its own parts, came entirely crumbling down on you.

well, you occasionally fucked, yes, but that's about it, so when you suddenly hear it, the:

"fuck— i love you so much."

you instantly still your lips around his cock because wait. what.

your eyes shoot open at the words and you look up at kaveh as his own worried gaze meets yours immediately, in horror, both parties awkwardly staring at each other for what felt like hours as he was reminding himself about what he just said, and what he just ruined for himself.

you pull him out of your mouth, and kaveh hisses at the lost contact of your warmth sadly leaving his cock when he attempts to speak again and fix this bloody mess somehow.

"i mean this!" he panics, pointing at his still, very much, erected cock resting on his lower stomach, "i don't love you, i love this!"

you look at him in overwhelmed disbelief, because what the actual fuck, honestly defeated with this entire, confusing situation as you quickly grab your shirt off the ground, swiftly pulling it above your head and dragging it down to conceal your upper body because being fully naked right now, didn't seem like the best decision.

yet funnily enough the second kaveh contradicted himself, particularly when he stated the "i do not love you" part, something deep inside his stomach scrunches up viciously, so much it began to ache, as if his own body has caught him in a blatant lie, a big one at that, one he had ultimately hidden from even himself and he didn't realize until now.

yet, you rub your forehead, wishing you would've just ignored it and kept sucking the life out of his cock. although, you speak at last, a little overpowered, despite that keeping your cool.

"who says 'i love you' during a blowjob?"

you question but he didn't hear you, instead he did the unimaginable and made it worse, muttering the following to himself but loud enough so you could hear it, "or maybe i do love you."

"WHAT!"

— scaramouche + will stay in denial

"how's that?" scaramouche flaunts the brilliant smirk on his face as he taunts you, smacking his working hips against your cunt so fucking fast and strongly that the sound alone of your skin touching the other almost suffocates out your own moans and whines.

"—so good." you hiccup, the noises parting from your lips falling lower and lower, dripping with a high amount of lust and longing. and scaramouche certainly knew you were close, he can tell, immediately— after all, he's seen it plenty of times before, well, who knew having a fuck buddy could be so beneficial to him, he honestly didn't seem quite convinced in the beginning but grew into it relatively fast.

up till now at least, because for some reason, he cannot understand why he suddenly cares about how good he was fucking you, or if you're enjoying yourself wholly— if his hips were lurching forward correctly, if his thrusts were strong enough for you to desperately cry out his name or when the muscles in your core clench down for him to see literal, big, bright stars as you milk him dry with your pussy, taking him perfectly into your warm walls.

when did he start giving a single damn about you? obviously, not to be a completely malicious dick and an asshole— but it was fairly difficult for scaramouche to find meaningful, real relationships with another individual, and when you first hooked up with each other, it then repeating day by day as you ultimately decided to walk into this kind of relationship, hand in hand, he never once thought about catching any feelings for you, because quite frankly, he did not believe he was capable to produce such insolent emotions in the first place.

yet, there he was now, being happy and smiling from head to toe when you're affirming him, when he can make you cum on his cock before he was even allowed to cum himself.

because, here's the deal, he won't stop denying himself, not before you're climaxing all over his girth and soiling his skin with your liquids, until he can ease himself forward again and notices your tasty slick all over him as he's automatically wetting his lips at the sinful sight of your pussy clenching around, fucking himself into your cute, small entrance again that gnaws down onto every bump and ridge coating his entire shaft.

but no, again, he cannot possibly be in love with you, hah! those feelings, someone must be playing tricks on him, right?

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[macfrog]

little aphrodite sex on fire chapter nine

the amount i had to write jean-marc in this chapter makes me nauseous. anywho. these two heal my soul and make me weep. please enjoy a little look back at the ceo's experience of paris.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: we're going back to paris. this time, through joel's eyes.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, ostentatious flaunting of wealth (eat the rich i say), sugardaddy!joel, softdom!joel, oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, angst & pining, and...well. the ceo falls in love.

word count: 7.5k

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He wasn’t even sure you’d say yes when he asked. Thought you’d find it a bit much, flying halfway across the world just for one lousy meeting. He had what he’d say when you turned him down in mind, already: Sure, yeah, no problem. No, I just thought – Yeah. ‘s alright. I’ll bring you back som’ as a souvenir.

But you didn’t.

Oh, yeah? you’d said. Your face seemed to light – humored, impressed even. It made Joel feel braver. Reassured. You’ve a habit of doing that to him.

Mhm, he replied, chewing on the sub you’d ordered him after his conference call. He can’t remember what he promised Human Resources he’d have done within the hour. You walked in as he was saying it, and – well. Two days, he said, swallowing, Saturday Sunday.

And are you gonna make me take minutes while you meet with this Jean-Marc? You wiggled your fingers as you said it, letting the name drip through your lips in some kind of dreamy song. I don’t make the flight back unless they’re typed up by the time we leave? That the catch?

No catch. You don’t even gotta come to the meetin’.

I don’t have to –? Wow, Miller. You’re spoiling me, no? You kicked your leg, one knee hooked over the other. Your skirt shrinking up your thigh.

You were sat in the chair on the right, opposite his desk. You always sit in that one – and Joel’s still trying to figure out why. The working theory so far is that it’s at a good angle to watch the city below, and at the same time, see exactly who comes and goes in and out of the office during lunch.

But there has to be more to it, he thinks. He suspects. Martha’s desk is, like, five feet from yours. She spends her lunches in the conference room with Deb, shaking salads doused in balsamic vinegar and sharing cross-floor gossip. They invite you every day, and almost every day, you turn them down in favor of his shuttered office, the muted swish of cars on the street, the mock gasps and clutch of invisible pearls when you share that same fifth-floor gossip with him over the desk.

You’d been talking while he’d been thinking about the damn chair. He hadn’t heard a word of it. Huh? he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Ain’t never listenin’, you muttered, peeling the damp paper back from your own sub.

Say it again, Joel said. Was just making a mental note to book dinner for us over there.

You scoffed, licking mayo from the corner of your lips. Why you making mental notes for anything? That’s what you pay me for.

And you were right – it is what he pays you for. Pays you to be his shadow, his right-hand man, his eyes and his ears and his entire brain, some days.

But lately – he doesn’t know. It’s different.

Truth be told, he has no idea what’s gotten into him. Looking at you the way he is. You’ve fucked around twice, now, and both times have been…nothing short of fucking amazing. Both times, Joel’s thought he might come within the first two minutes. Pushing inside your velvet walls, watching the way you roll forward, hearing the lewd moans pour across your lips.

He’s always thought you were attractive. It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. Physically, sure – the look of your body, the way you know how to dress it. And the prettiest, softest face he’s ever seen. You can win him over in any discussion without a word, just by fluttering your eyelashes at him.

But you’re more than that. He thinks of you both as friends, maybe something more. Something deeper. It’s in the glances you steal, the silent lines tossed between one another. The way you read one another like an open book. Sometimes, he wonders if you actually can read his mind.

You’re intelligent, you’re funny, and you’re a hard fucking worker. Always on time, always seemingly juggling thirty things at once, and never letting him down. Nothing is too much, it seems; everything just is as it is. And he likes that about you. Simple. No baggage.

The morning of the flight, you send him a voice note telling him you’re downstairs. “And I ain’t lugging two cases up to the top floor only to bring ‘em back down when we’re leaving, Mr. CEO.”

He’s striding past Martha for the elevator before he’s even done listening to the message.

“Uh-uh!” she chirps, dashing over to slip between the brass doors behind him.

Joel sighs under his breath.

“I know better than to rely on you to remember all this stuff,” she says, holding up a file he’d asked her to put together for the trip.

She’s right not to – he’d probably leave that file in the car, or put it down somewhere and walk off without it. You’re the only one who can be trusted with it – with anything. You’re good at your job. And yet, he resents the fact that Martha’s about to lump you with even a fraction of responsibility for the next four days.

So when the Rolls pulls off and Martha is nothing but a pin-sized silhouette through the back window, still waving from the sidewalk, he pinches the folder in two fingers and tosses it to his left hip. Out of your grasp. You smile, eyes rolling, and pop your earbuds in. Joel breathes a laugh, eyes dipping again to skim read some contract on his phone. His hand is locked around your thigh. He likes that you just let him do it now.

Likes a lot of things about you. Likes that you put your music on shuffle, and then skip eleven tracks until you find one you actually want to listen to. Likes that your fingers twirl around the light chain of your necklace – the way they do anytime you’re nervous – and when he asks if you’re alright, you bareface lie to him and squeak, Yep.

Likes the glow the morning sun casts on you when you emerge from the car on the tarmac, pooling in the dimples on your cheeks, bright gold. The way you tug on the loose cotton of your sweatpants, bashful. Shy. And he likes that, when he follows you up the steps to the plane cabin, your awestruck expression lasts all of five seconds before that quick wit kicks straight back in.

“Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution,” you tell him, and Joel silently says his fifth thankful prayer this morning that he thought to ask you and not Martha.

He watches you settle into a seat by the window, watches you crane your neck to survey the view from the tiny circle of thick glass. He thinks about what he’d do if you were alone right now, if there weren’t crew slowly filing into the jet behind him.

He floats the idea. Tells you about the bedroom up back, tells you it’s cozy. You read between the lines just like he wants you to. And when the plane’s in the air, you follow after him.

You fall into bed together the same way you do when you arrive at the hotel. A tangle of limbs, of sweat and stuffy plane air. He sleeps the soundest he has in months – years, maybe. Pushed off by the sound of your breathing, the dip in the mattress by his side. The warmth which radiates from your body, the soft brush of your hand against his.

He puts it down to the travelling – the eight-hour flight, the plushy super king waiting on the other side. He puts it down to the way the world feels different, this side of the Atlantic. The privacy he feels come over the two of you, like sneaking into the next room: your voices muffled through the wall, your movements reduced to vague shadows beneath the door.

He watches you through sleepy eyes as you prance around the suite in the morning, twirling in and out of the bathroom while you get ready for the day. He wonders if this is what you’re like every day – if you spend your Monday mornings beaming like a little kid, toothbrush hanging lopsided from the corner of your mouth, white bubbles lining your gums. He wonders why he’s wondering. Why a part of him wants to see that version of you, too.

This version – now following his lead down Avenue Montaigne, doe-eyed and wonderstruck – is over all too soon. He’s dragged from her, from you, before he’s ready to leave.

His phone vibrates in his pocket right as he’s leading you out of some ridiculously overpriced jewelers – an irritating reminder of his meeting in an hour’s time.

“Fuck,” he whispers, holding you steady as you spin around to glimpse at the baroque building. “Hey, pretty girl,” he squeezes your hand, “I got some bad news.”

Your bottom lip pouts, eyes gleaming. It’s enough, he thinks, to convince him to stick around. If you asked him to, he’d text Jean-Marc right now and tell him to fuck off. But you tell him to go, tell him you’ll meet him back at the hotel once he’s done and you’re tired. With a teasing smirk and a tiny wave, you see him off down the cobbled street. He watches from the back window as you set off again, heading towards another iron-gated store.

Denis pulls up alongside the towering hotel, totters around the car to meet Joel as he stretches out of the Maybach. The square-jawed man stands with his hands linked, and nods enthusiastically when Joel thanks him.

“The shopping – I will take it back to the hotel,” he assures his boss, a wide smile on his lips.

He’s a good guy, Denis. He’s chauffeured Joel to five of these meetings over as many years – he knows the drill by now. Knows it’ll be a couple hours and a few whiskeys before he gets another call to pick him up.

His nodding doubles, more obedient when Joel asks him to make sure he listens for your call. “You mind stayin’ nearby that part of town?” he asks. “Just so – when she’s done, y’know…”

“Not at all,” Denis says, flapping two palms to the ground. Swatting away Joel’s concern, his worrying, his missing you.

He replies, a little absentmindedly, passing by the head of gray hair with a distant smile. “Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

Five meetings, five trips over here to be pestered by some obnoxious little man in an obnoxious little robe and obnoxious little loafers, and still, Joel never knows what to expect. He strides beneath the golden archway entrance into a domed lobby, every surface spotless and shining; marble counter in the center with a symmetrically-suited clerk sat behind.

She stands and smiles politely to Joel as he approaches, recognizing him with a flutter of her eyelashes. He feels the absence of your arm on his, an ache at his elbow.

“Monsieur,” she croons, pale fingers reaching for the telephone. She whispers something softly into the receiver and then nods, folding her painted lips together as she places the handset back into its cradle. With a floating hand aimed at the elevator behind her, she says, sultry and dreamlike, “He is ready for you.”

Joel fights an eyeroll with every fiber of his being. He wanders round the circular desk, bunches his shoulders into the tight elevator, and jams his thumb into the button marked P.

The doors shudder open when he reaches the top floor. He steps out slowly, waiting for the Frenchman to pounce on him like some kind of wild cat. Wouldn’t put it past him, Joel thinks. As he’s scanning the room, counting the six bouquets dotted around, there’s a single clap from behind the veiled curtains. A silhouette out on the terrace.

Jean-Marc swings between the sheer white, calling out to the lonely figure in his entryway. “If it isn’t my favorite American,” he sings, taking Joel by the arms and squeezing roughly. “How lovely to see you again, Joelie. Please, come.”

The sunlight blinds Joel when he steps out into it, peering over the city skyline under low brows. Jean-Marc is already sat at the top of a thin, glass table, pouring golden whiskey into a square glass and scooping two bulky ice cubes in. The nectar swirls around when the glass is held out to Joel, the ice tittering as he accepts it.

The table, a rocky terrain of pain au chocolat and brioche, pools of citrus spreads and dishes of butter. Joel keeps his hands to himself as Jean-Marc slaps jam onto a croissant, bronze flakes fluttering all over the table as he attempts to regale Joel with some investment into a casino.

“Riccardo says it is too much; I told him to go to hell. We will double the cost of the place, I know it, Joel. We have the eye for things like these, men like you and I, hm?”

Men like you and I, Joel thinks, lips tilting. He balances the glass on his thigh, watches the ice cubes turn over themselves. He thinks of you, thinks of the man you see him as. Thinks how tall he stands against the man Jean-Marc must see sat opposite him right now.

Thinks how rotten, and ugly, and how small the latter is. How easily you and your words could crumble him. All show, all sitting on perfect terraces with pretentious dickbags disguised as friends, drinking pissy whiskey with a plastered smile on his lips.

How comical it all is – the sound of yapping across the tabletop, These idiots would pay millions for manure if you painted it golden, the sprawling sheets of green-leafed plants, the headache-inducing flowers, the buckled loafers and the signet ring catching the sun.

How much he misses the weight of you on his hips, forearms flat on his chest, ear against his heart. The sound of your laughter lilting in his ear. The rosy smell of your skin and the feel of your eyelashes, featherlight on his cheek. He feels the distance between the two of you like elastic strung apart, stretching thinner and thinner, weaker and frailer, ready to snap into two halves at any moment.

“Anyways,” Jean-Marc says, lifting the wine bottle shakily. It clinks brashly against the lip of his glass, a painful scrape. Joel wonders if he’s already halfway to hammered. “Tell me how you’ve been, Joelie.”

Joel tells him he’s been fine. Business is fine. Money is fine. Company’s doing fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Easiest answer to avoid further questioning, to satiate Jean-Marc’s constant thirst for news, or intel, or just plain gossip.

He slips up, though. Makes the one colossal mistake he spent all morning hoping and praying and drilling directly into his brain that he wouldn’t.

Jean-Marc asks how his flight was, sticking the damp end of a cigarette to his bottom lip.

Joel says, “Good, yeah. We got here, maybe, ten o’clock last night.”

And Jean-Marc’s eyebrows arch. His hands freeze, match held against the striker strip. “We?” he asks, white stick flapping between his teeth.

“Uh,” Joel shifts in his seat. Your gentle wave, the corners of your lips, the toss of hair over your shoulder. It’s as though Jean-Marc can see his thoughts played on a reel before him, the haste with which Joel attempts to wipe you from his own mind. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Jerry ‘n Lisa. Len and Pol.”

The Frenchman’s eyes narrow, a grin pulling on his pink lips. “We,” he says again, whipping the match roughly against the strip. Speaking into cupped hands, a cloud of white billowing from his leathery fingers, he murmurs, “Joel brought company with him to Paris, yes? Who is the lucky tourist? Une petite amie?”

Joel’s tongue dabs at the sickly wash of whiskey on his lips. He thinks to grab the fucker by the throat, throttle him until the idea of you rattles from his skull, spilling back into Joel’s safe hands where you belong.

He almost fucking lies. Almost says it’s just Martha, or Drew, or his fucking mother. But Jean-Marc is like a rat, scurrying along after a source of water. He’ll find it in the end. They always do.

He breathes your name, reluctant to let it go. Jean-Marc cocks his head, leans in, a swirling snake of silky smoke lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. Joel repeats it, voice louder, but flatter. Breaks it into too many syllables. Lets his host hear every bite of annoyance.

“She’s my assistant,” he says, and Jean-Marc claps again.

“Your assistant! How wonderful. And where is she today? She is not…” his fingers circle the air, disturbing the trail of smoke, “…assisting you?”

“Gave her the afternoon off.” Joel lifts his glass to his lips. The geometric shape amplifies his voice, bass like the growl of a bear. “Busy couple days. She deserves some downtime.”

He hates the sound of your name as it peels from Jean-Marc’s tongue. Like a hangnail, the residue a gorge of bloody, torn skin. Your name is Joel’s favorite sound, he realizes now, and the way this little asshole keeps butchering it boils an anger so hot and so quick under his skin that he’s not sure he can hold it at bay.

It’s not as if he owns you or your name – far from it. He has no desire to be anything more than a placeholder: somewhere for you to slot your hand, rest your head, curl your body against. Still, he feels a direct protectiveness over you right now. An impulse to stand in front of Jean-Marc’s tiny figure, arms wide, stopping him from picturing you or learning about you or meeting you.

Which is, of course, exactly what the little fucker suggests.

A wet pff sound as he rids his mouth of bitter smoke, and he offers to host breakfast in the morning.

“No, no, we, uh –” Joel’s hands are up, like pleading with the man, whiskey kissing the lip of its glass, “– you don’t have to – Look, Jean-Marc, I’m sure you’re busy enough with all –”

“Nonsense!” Jean-Marc waves a hand. Ash sprinkles down the cuff of his robe. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we say, ten?”

Joel grumbles, eye following the flight of a bird in the distance. What are you doing right now? Are you back in the suite, trying on the outfit you picked out together? Are you still wandering down the streets, drinking up the lavish city like a perfect little cocktail of bliss and wonder?

And what the fuck does he have to do to excuse himself, to come find you, to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave his side again?

He feels idiotic. Juvenile. Like a stupid little teenager, pining for his junior year girlfriend. The feelings all sharp and brittle, prodding his heart roughly anytime he thinks too hard on them.

When he looks back to Jean-Marc – the cigarette tearing closer and closer to his fingers, an expectant smile on his lips – he concedes.

“Ten is fine,” he says, and suddenly, the sky casts over.

You’re on the terrace when he finally returns to the hotel room. Head aching from the alcohol and forced conversation, he drags himself over to you.

The sight of you, hair lifting in the breeze, the sweet smell and soft touch under his hands feels like the pouring of honey on a raw throat, like cool water lapping at his waist on a scorching day. And he needs more, and he feels the saliva pool beneath his tongue, and you’re touching him and talking to him and all he can think about is replacing his saliva with you – with every drop of you that you’ll lend him.

You follow his every request – parting your legs, making room for him between them, opening yourself to him like coming home after work, like sinking deep into your shared bed, like pushing your salt-slicked fingers on his tongue and chanting taste me taste me love me need me.

Petals opening, shards of orange separating. His cock throbs in his pants when he feels the circle of your hips against his jaw, the taste of sweet, sweet nectar spilling from your center. His clothes still smell of the smoke from Jean-Marc’s weedy lips; the sweat on his skin borne from three hours sat in the sun, dehydrated by whiskey, discussing money and gold and then money again.

He doesn’t want to fuck you here, like this. As that puny, pompous prick he’s felt like since the second he wandered through the Frenchman’s hotel doors. He can’t. You deserve him clean, new. You deserve the Joel you think he is – yours. Affected by your touch alone, moved by the gleam in your eye. You deserve him, Joel decides, on your terms.

And that same night, stood in the same spot, dregs of sunlight replaced by molten moonlight, staring at the dazzling Eiffel Tower against the deep blue sky – that same night, when he turns and clocks the silhouette of your body just feet from him, he realizes that this is it.

He’s sure he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, standing in the dim light, your fingers playing with the bust of the silk robe draped over your body. The jewelry on your neck catching the light like his own private attraction, his own little spectacle. Just for him.

He forgets any other version of himself. Shakes them off like seawater flying from his body as he emerges from the ocean. Venus stood before him; hair lifting in the light, palm over her breast. And he doesn’t notice the departure of those old versions; doesn’t feel the way they tear from his skin. His eyes are glued on you, only you, everything around the two of you reducing to dark matter. There is only his awestruck gaze pointed to your radiant form, as though the scene sits alive in the eye of Botticelli or Michelangelo.

Baby, he whispers, and you move forward, dragging him with you under a wave of lust and rebirth.

He stirs the next morning to the feeling of a weight shifting across his body, two divots in the mattress either side of his waist. Something nuzzling, warm and featherlight, into the nook below his earlobe. Wet kisses trailing down his neck.

There’s no weight of you in the crook of his arm anymore. He’s scooping thin air. He lifts it, and his palm meets the baggy cotton of his own T-shirt, draped over your body, draped over him.

A laugh brushes between his lips. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he croaks, voice still low and broken.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice like silk and sugar and tufts of lustrous clouds.

He opens his eyes and you’re hovering over him. Tip of your nose circling his, hips light as air across his own.

You look so fucking cute, he thinks. He’d take what he had last night – you, dripping in black lace and bound by satin straps – every night for the rest of his life, if he could. If you’d grant him it. But, this. This.

You – in Joel’s clothes and nothing else. You – the curl of your hair now a lazy wave, the smoky afterthought of your half-removed makeup. The smell of sex still lingering on your skin, the taste of Joel still home on your tongue. Each part of you laced with a part of him.

You – holding yourself up over him, less than an inch apart, and all Joel thinks to do is wrap his arms around your back and let you drop onto his body; his strong, solid body, which accepts the weight of you with only so much as a tiny grunt over his lips when you fall on top of him.

You giggle. He swears he feels butterflies in his stomach. He prays you don’t feel them, fluttering purposefully against your ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his collarbone, words curled by the smile on your lips. You suck a mark into the hot skin, teeth and flesh and sel et sucre, and then push off from his chest, nudging his thighs wider with your knee.

Your tongue drags a wet trail down his chest, from solid sternum to suppler stomach, following the thickening of hair the lower you move. You leave wet kisses along the crests of his hipbones, the gentle slope of skin leading you to the wide base of his cock, already stiff.

Joel’s breath hitches when your tongue sweeps across it. Your eyes lift and lock with his, fingers taking a heavy hold of him. He smiles, tongue sitting patiently behind his teeth.

“Go on, angel,” he nods, “put that pretty little mouth on daddy.”

You obey instantly, as hungry for it as he is, your tongue swiping from the base of him up, curling around as you reach the head. Swollen, gleaming, slit dripping with slick precome that you lick with just the tip of your tongue and send a roll of pleasure across every nerve in Joel’s body.

He falls back, hands searching for the back of your skull as your lips sink further down down down, tightening around the smooth skin, stopping only when they meet the tuft of hair decorating his dick. His tip pushes against the back of your throat. His head begins to spin.

His back arches, hands anchored on your head, holding you steady as you bob up and down. His shoulders push heavy into the mattress, tummy sucks in until the points of his ribcage mold through his skin. And, oh – you’re so soft with it, so wet and so warm and so good with your tongue, kitten licks over his tip, wet fist wrapped tight around the width of him.

You lift your hand and meet his halfway up his stomach, fingers intertwining, Joel’s knuckles instantly whitening.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he groans, gasping when your throat constricts around him again.

You gag, choking with a wet grunt, but you never pull away. A quick pause, a heavy breath from your nostrils, and your movements resume.

“’s alright,” Joel coos, fingers rubbing against the back of your hand, “you got it. Atta-girl, fuck.”

His hips begin to lift, slowly jerking up into your mouth. He looks down, loosens the grip you have on his hand only to run his thumb delicately across your cheek, dabbing lightly at the tears in the corner of your eye.

You suck hard around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening to his underside to let him fuck your mouth – a rhythm of sopping sounds and heartbeat hums from your throat. He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Just like that,” he tells you, and you blink up at him. Moans muffled by the mouthful of cock, saliva and sex slipping from your swollen lips. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. You’re such a good girl – you want daddy to give it to you?”

Mhm, you mumble into the warmth of his cock, the vibration of your throat on the eager skin enough to send Joel over the fucking edge. He throws his head back, lifts his hips up to you, and fills your mouth at the same rate he fills the room with the sound of his orgasm.

You take every last drop. You’re so good for him. Once he stills, once the screaming in his ears subsides, once the room slowly desaturates back to normal, a faded, blurry normal – he sits up and hooks his hands under your arms, pulling you up into him.

You collapse against his chest for the second time this morning, giggling and licking the last of his come from your mouth. Joel guides your jaw towards his, lips meeting in the middle, and licks the salty aftertaste from your tongue.

He rolls you both over, your thighs sitting safe on his hips.

“I know,” you sigh, head rolling against the curve of his arm beneath, “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“Tell you what, angel?” he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

“Best head you ever had. I know.”

He scoffs, lips finding the hinge of your jaw. You giggle into his ear, a sound softer than birds cooing at the break of dawn, sweeter than the first bite of ripe fruit – the sharp taste bursting across his tongue and coating his teeth in sugar, numbed by the holy coaxing of feathered doves.

“You’re good with it, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, and the giggle erupts into a laugh which fuels him enough to follow your roll out of bed, tear his shirt from your shoulders, and slip into the shower behind you, kneeling before you when you turn to look.

Joel’s second encounter with Jean-Marc in as many days, goes about as well as the first.

He balls his fists as he introduces the pair of you, watches like a caged and bound animal as Jean-Marc’s eyes loop all around your face, your shoulders, the pull of your dress around your waist.

He knows he’s being quiet. The glances you keep stealing at him tell him you know it, too. He wishes there was something he could say, something his lips might be able to carve into a neat little sentence. Tongue sanding the jagged edges of what he’d really like to say into a joke, a quip to ease the tension you so obviously feel.

But he can’t. His tongue isn’t blunt, isn’t defensive. It’s sharp like the kiss of venom, protective and aggressive. He knows he’d do better to hold it tight between his teeth.

The best he finds himself able to do is keep a heavy hand on your thigh, let you wrap your fingers around his own, squeeze you in place of whispering in your ear.

You hold your own, up against Jean-Marc. He knew you would. He learned less than a week into working with you, not to underestimate you. Your quick tongue, the million and one observations hidden behind the flash of a frown. He knows you can read Jean-Marc – probably better than he can, having known the guy ten years.

It doesn’t make it feel any safer, though. Luring you into a lion’s den. He knows you’ll make it out alive, but he can’t stand the thought of the claw marks in your skin.

That feeling washes over him again – that urge scored so deep into his bones that it hits marrow, to put himself between you and anything which might come to harm you. He swallows it down with the acidic sting of orange juice – slots it somewhere safe in his chest until he can assess whatever the fuck it is. Whatever the fuck it means.

His hand tightens around your leg when Jean-Marc mutters something to his assistant. Joel decides against asking you what it means, for fear he’ll tear the Frenchman limb from limb, strips of satin robe strung across the paved patio.

The assistant – tall, thin, looming over you like impending doom on legs – offers to show you the view of the city. And as Jean-Marc settles into your empty chair, the image of that torn satin robe shunts closer towards reality.

“I wonder if you might indulge me,” Jean-Marc slithers, pinching thin air with one hand and resting the other on the back of Joel’s chair.

“I wonder,” Joel mutters, finger tapping angrily on the table.

“She is a wonderful character. Beautiful, and very smart, I can see. I would be crazy not to ask, you must understand, Joel –”

He can’t help himself. He bites before Jean-Marc lays the trap. His head shakes. “She’s – she’s –”

And suddenly there isn’t a single word in the English dictionary worthy of describing you. Not a single combination of letters, of sounds, of syllables and phonetics that would do you justice.

He settles for, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.” It feels fucking redundant. It is fucking redundant.

Jean-Marc nods. “And you know that I see the value in things, hm?”

Joel dead-eyes his opponent, gaze narrowing. “What are you sayin’, Jean-Marc?”

“Well,” he shrugs, gesturing to the shadow pointing out the Eiffel Tower, “Paul is fantastic. Dedicated, hardworking. But it is a lot, for one person. I am sure you can understand, being that you have two assistants yourself.”

“And you wanna take one of ‘em out from under me?”

Jean-Marc chuckles, shaking his head. Tutting. Teeth grinding. He senses the bitter tone, hears the distortion of words squeezing through gritted teeth. “Not at all, my dear Joelie, not at all.”

Placating. It pisses Joel off more.

“I simply would like to raise the question of: would she like to be…taken?”

“Taken?”

“Hired. By me.”

The smug grin which pulls over taut lips incites Joel with a desire to punch the luminous veneers from their gummy holders. His fist balls again, nails digging harshly into his palm. He swallows roughly.

“She seems…she seems happy enough where she is to me.” He glances over, catches your eye for a fleeting second before Paul’s ghostly hand perches on your shoulder and turns your attention away again. Resigned, he adds, “You would have to ask her. I ain’t speakin’ for her.”

Jean-Marc’s leer only grows. “Ask her,” he repeats, nodding. “That is an idea.” He pushes out of his chair with a squeal of wood across stone, calling to the party, “Why don’t we take a drive? There is so much of the city I would love to show you – both of you, of course.”

Before he knows it, Joel’s on his feet, too, panic hammering through every muscle in his body. He tosses some half-assed excuse to the breeze; a half-truth, a desperate attempt to pull you away from the beady eyes and sharp claws of Jean-Marc and his assistant, and back over to his side. He takes your arm and scatters, pulling you past four, five, six bursting bouquets, your heels clicking along the polished floor, your head spinning.

He can feel the blood thrashing through his veins as the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Can see the shadow of Paul the assistant still over your shoulder, the place his hand sat like charcoal on white linen. He feels red hot, anger mixed with panic mixed with a word he hasn’t let slip just yet. He covers it by answering your questions shakily, diverting the ones about the conversation on the terrace.

And then you’re back in the safety of Denis’s car. You’re back to being on your own, together. No third set of eyes watching your every move, studying you like you’re some doll to be observed, or worse. You’re touching him again, holding his arm, caressing his cheek. His breathing eases, his body relaxes into the backseat of the Maybach.

You tell him you’d like to see the Louvre. So Joel takes you to see the Louvre.

Joel Miller has never been in love.

He’s said it, sure. Said it plenty to Avery.

G’night, love you.

I’m so proud of you, sweet; I love you so much.

Thanks for makin’ dinner, babe, I love you.

It began to take the form of breath, passing over his tongue with as much ease and instinct as his lungs would push out air. She looked at him a certain way – he’d say he loved her. They’d talk about the future – he’d tell her he loved her. They fought, over his working hours or the interest rates at different banks or whose family to spend Christmas with – and he’d remind her he loved her.

He meant every single one. He did, truly, love her. He loved her auburn hair, the way it’d sweep over her shoulders like a wave of fire. He loved the way she would pause to take thirty photos of the sky at sunset. He loved how homely she was, how simple and warm she could be. Her recipe books lining the shelves in her kitchen. Her pajamas folded neatly at the foot of her bed, waiting for her at the end of the day.

He loved her enough to spend four years with her, a life split nearly down the middle. Never seeping into one another. His side of the bed, and hers. His items in the fridge, and hers. His fucking bathrobe, and hers.

But right now, standing in a jam-packed room, maneuvering awkwardly around museum guides and backpacked tourists, avoiding the knee-height glass barriers and dodging fucking selfie sticks – Joel knows: he has never been in love.

Not until the moment he turns from some headless bust to search the room – the dark marble walls and great, carved arches; the white Parisian sky illuminating everything in a pale glow. Not until he catches a glimpse of you amongst the sea of bodies – stood before the Venus de Milo, staring up in wonder at Aphrodite like she’s the first thing in the world you’ve ever truly seen. The gentle lean of her body, the low sling of marble fabric around her waist, the soft dimple of her navel.

The way your eyes scan every detail of her form – every fold draped over her thigh, ever chisel mark and chip in her torso. The round swell of her breasts and the wavelike swirl of her hair. Barely blinking, afraid to lose sight of her for even a second.

Joel’s never been in love. Not until this very moment.

He only turned to make some quip about…well, now he can’t fucking remember, can he? Something irrelevant. Something so mundane, so meaningless, so dull that he wishes he could take back every word he ever said to you and use the breath more wisely – use the time spent making stupid jokes and work orders, just to look at you. Watch you, like he is right now. Every other thought, every worry and concern drop weightlessly from his mind, with such ease that he doesn’t feel the loss.

Your fixed stare up at the statue’s set face, the slow pacing of your heels, ankles crossing over one another as you pivot around her. And the look of wonder on your face – as if Joel instantly recognizes eight-year-old you, thumbing through the pages of the first art book she was ever gifted, copying the curled hair and round shoulders of the marble goddess in a pencil sketch.

Haloed by the towering windows behind you, arms crossed over your chest. Lips melting from a content smile to agape, and then pinning back in a smile again.

And suddenly – he can’t remember the flame of hair over his ex’s shoulder. Doesn’t remember a single meal she ever cooked for him. In the blink of an eye, he realizes he doesn’t want a life neatly split anywhere.

He realizes that his life, the way he wants it, was always meant to be meshed with yours. Intertwined so tightly that there is no his and hers. Last night at dinner, you couldn’t decide between the bœuf bourguignon and the confit de canard, so Joel ordered both – as well as what he wanted – and the two of you picked at three separate meals. Holding out forkfuls to feed one another, comparing and judging them like professional chefs on a fucking cooking show.

Back at the hotel, you fell asleep in his arms. Your head nestled under his chin; your arms curved around his shoulders. In the center of the bed, laying at an angle. When he got up this morning, the robe he threw around himself smelled like your perfume. The terrycloth on your shoulders, tinged with the weak scent of whiskey.

None of it – not the relationship you had before any of this happened, not the strolling over one boundary to the next, not the blurring of lines between colleague, and friend, and lover – has been neat. None of it has made any sense. And maybe that’s why he fucking trusts it so much.

Joel spent the first two weeks after you fooled around in his office swearing he wasn’t that guy. Staring himself down in the mirror with a balled fist, a pointed finger that said, You don’t sleep with your fucking assistant, you idiot.

And now, standing opposite you in a crowded room and only seeing you – he knows. He finally gets it.

He loves you. He – no, fuck.

He doesn’t just love you.

He’s on his knees, dagger through his heart –

blood spilling all over the pristine floor –

pathetic and adolescent in its nature –

butterflies tearing through his stomach as destructive as a hurricane –

in love with you.

He thinks to say it. To wander over and kiss your shoulder, hook his chin into your collarbone like he did in the Dolce and Gabbana store, and whisper, Hey. I love you. Did you know that?

But he knows that’d be fucking insane. Knows you’d probably unstick yourself from him and back up, tripping in your step. Paris ruined.

He knows he’d probably get so far as curving around your back and then bottle it, anyway. The words would die in his throat. You’d just lean back into him, none the wiser. You’d still make his heart pound.

Pound the way it does when you reach for his wrist and drag him off into the next room, and the next, and the next. And with every piece of art your eyes fall upon, another fragment of your soul is revealed to Joel. The depth of da Vinci, the color of Bruyère. The scale of Veronese and the beauty of Canova.

And with every part revealed, a desire blooms in him to learn the next part. Understand you; know you better than he knows himself. See you, the way he’s seeing you right now.

He takes his ex’s lead, when you’re stood in front of the Mona Lisa. All those fucking sunset photos, like she was afraid to forget what it looked like. The thought becomes urgent, pushing past every other meaningless word in his head.

He taps you on the shoulder, says your name lightly. When you turn, he’s already holding the phone up, watching your delayed motions through the screen. Please don’t let me forget this. Don’t let me forget you, like this.

“Smile,” he says, and you do.

“You’re cheesy,” you tell him, wandering off from the painting.

He’s still staring at the photo. At your dimpled cheeks, your red lips. Staring at your eyes, seeing a new glint in them that wasn’t there before. Like eight-year-old you smiling back at him, trusting him, knowing him.

Joel breathes, “She’s beautiful,” taking your waist in a steady arm to guide you out of the room.

You misunderstand him. He knows it. He doesn’t correct you.

She’s beautiful – the Mona Lisa. But she only became beautiful the second you laid eyes on her. The second she handed you a piece of your soul, the transaction laid bare for Joel to witness. A bucket list item ticked, or simply your childhood self, stood before one of her own seven wonders.

Everything is only beautiful after it comes into contact with you.

There’s a change in you, the morning that you leave. Something low-lying, melancholy and blue. Joel feels it under your skin, in the grip you keep on his hand the entire car ride from the hotel to the airport.

“You good?” he asks, walking up the steps of the jet, shelled around you. Safe, with him, safe with him.

You nod, but you’re watching the Maybach roll off, rounding the corner back to the airport. The same way you watch the city disappear beneath the clouds as the plane takes off.

The same way you glance over to him, your glossy eyes twinkling, pearly tears swimming across your waterline. Joel gets it. Figures he feels much the same.

He leads you slowly back through to the dark cabin bedroom, where you peel the shirt and sweats from your body. He watches from the bed, arm outstretched and inviting you to burrow into his side, curl around his body, loop your legs through his. His own little Aphrodite, the curves and the dimples and all the beauty to go with her.

He sinks his shoulder to let you nuzzle into him, let your slow-closing eyes follow his movements like rocking you back and forth to sleep. You link your arm through his, locking your bodies tight together. Joel slows his typing down, moves gentler, so you can fall asleep without being nudged too much by his arm.

You mumble something into the sleeve of his tee. He pauses. Looks down at your already closed eyes, your parted lips.

“What’d you say, baby?”

You take a deep, slow breath. Already sleeping, he thinks. And then, in the sigh that escapes from your mouth, you whisper to him.

“Please don’t ever leave.”

[yanderestarangel]

Possessive sex with the Lin Kuei trio (separated) hc plssss

— 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐔𝐄𝐈 | "𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌?" | 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— TW : afab anatomy, pet names, degradation, rough sex, extreme sex, v!sex, possessive sex, toxic relationship, exhibitionism.

ੈ✩ 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐀 ੈ✩

He is very insecure by nature, losing his entire family in the blink of an eye messed with some of Tomas's screws, making him possessive and afraid of losing you, whether literally or sentimentally. He will always ask you if you still love him or if you still want him to be your boyfriend, it always ends with Vrbada fucking you while crying insecurely holding you closer and closer to him as he begs for more and more of you.

Never flirt with anyone, he will suffer too much and even cry when he gets home, he won't accept your excuses, only getting sicker for you, he would assert his dominance over your body. He's a sub! But that changes when you decide to make him jealous, whether on purpose or not.

— reason for jealousy: You were flirting with someone else.

"-Do you want to play (Y/N)?" -He growled, his voice filled with a dangerous tone. "-Alright. You will learn that defying me only brings punishment."

Tomas' control over you has been sealed. "-You will submit to me... You will beg for my forgiveness and obey my every command. No more defiance you fucking slut. Take your punishment like a good boy/ girl." -With a quick and strong movement, Tomas laid you down on the cold kitchen table, the hard wood beneath your back sending shivers of pleasure and discomfort throughout your body. He played with his dick at the entrance to your wet pussy, squeezing your breast tighter.

The feeling of the cold table beneath you, the pain mixed with pleasure, only served to increase your arousal.

"-Who do you belong to?" -Vrbada demanded, in a commanding tone.

"-Say it. Say you're mine and no one else's." -Tomas screamed in anger and fury, as he pushed his dick further into your uterus, he cried, thick tears stained his cheeks as his smoke magic circulated around his entire body, suffocating you one little, leaving you even more dizzy with desire and submission, a dangerous submission.

"-Were you looking for another dick, someone to fuck you better than your husband?" -Tomas shouted between moans, not accepting your apology, slapping your face several times while he hit you harder, he was upset, and didn't want to hide his emotions anymore, you felt pain, pleasure but mainly regret for having flirted with someone else, leaving him insecure, now he was inconsolable, while his cock filled you completely. With a final, powerful thrust, he released his hot seed into your pussy, marking you as his submissive, he pulled out minutes later from inside you, he didn't sleep at home that night.

ੈ✩ 𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 ੈ✩

Never provoke this man... Never.

Bi Han doesn't know how to deal with his own feelings, causing him to lose control much faster and take it out on anyone he finds in his path, whether it's you or not.

Bi Han is controlling, to the maximum, even choosing the clothes you leave the house with, if you want to walk around naked in the house, you can, in his eyes and only his, he even encourages you, never outside the house. And if you do, Bi Han will punish you in many ways and his favorite is sexual.

— reason for jealousy: you wore short clothes on purpose to provoke him.

"-What do you think you're doing, parading around like that? You're just asking for trouble, aren't you? Trying to provoke me?" -He clenched his fists, clearly struggling to control his emotions. "-Well, congratulations. You've succeeded. You've managed to make me exceptionally angry and undeniably turned on. Happy now?" -Bi Han stepped even closer, his tone low and menacing.

"-But let me be clear, little one. You may think you're being clever by flaunting yourself like this, but it won't work. I won't let you manipulate me with your little games. I'm not some weak-willed fool."

Without a moment's hesitation, he seized you by the wrist and roughly threw you to the ground. You landed with a thud, your dress tearing under the force. Before you could react, his hand connected with your cheek, a sharp sting spreading across your skin. "-You think you can find someone better than me, little slut? That's quite bold of you." -As he continued to choke you, his grip tight on your neck, his lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and dangerously erotic. "-You want to play games, my sweet whore? Then let's play. But remember, I always win."

With a rough push, he positioned himself between your thighs, spreading them wide. There was an intense pleasure-pain sensation as he forcefully entered you, stretching and filling you completely. "-Fuck... You're so tight. You think someone else could handle you like I do? No one can make you feel this good."

He grabbed your neck with all his strength, his grip on your throat tightened even more, his eyes shining with anger and desire as he drilled into you. "-You think you're so smart, don't you? Challenging me like this... Well, let me show you how pathetic you really are." With every word, he thrusts into you hard and deep, his pace quickening, the force of his movements echoed the anger and frustration he felt because of you, his thrusts became faster, more intense, the sound of skin slapping against skin.

But he had no intention of giving you what you wanted so easily. "-Oh, my sweet little slut, do you want more? But you still haven't learned your lesson. Let's see how far you're willing to go."

ੈ✩ 𝐊𝐔𝐀𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐆 ੈ✩

Kuai Liang is a very self-assured man, but at the same time, he has problems with trusting people and that includes you too. Always following you to places, regardless of whether he is doing something important or not. Kuai will be your slightly possessive husband, asking you where you were going, who you were going with and what to do. But he wasn't going to fully expose his jealousy to you, just gritting his teeth and feeling his fingertips create sparks of anger, but he wasn't going to say anything, which made you question if he was jealous of you, so, you had the Bad idea to provoke him on purpose, sitting on your friend's lap, and smiling seductively at them, which made Kuai Liang finally explode with anger and possession.

— reason for jealousy :

"-Do you think I would let anyone else have you?" -Kuai Liang growled, he had your friend pinned to the chair, tied with ropes as he fucked you in front of them "-You are mine, this pussy is mine, and I will mark you as mine over and over again. No one else can touch you, just me."

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity of his gaze reflecting a mix of emotions.

Anger, jealousy, and fear danced behind his eyes, showing his desperate need to keep you close, to assert his dominance over you. He thrusts his hips up, pushing himself deeper inside you, pleasure coursing through your body. He moans again, this time louder, as he begins to establish a rhythm, his thrusts were strong and aggressive, this time, your dear and kind husband didn't care about anything other than his pleasure, Kuai's eyes danced furiously between your pussy and your friend, who watched everything terrified, while Kuai Liang grabbed your neck, giving you a powerful armbar, your wet pussy continued to drip, proof of your excitement and need for more.

"-You're nothing more than a slut, a toy begging for my touch." -Liang mocked, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. "-You can't cum until I tell you to. You can't feel pleasure without my permission. Remember that, my little slut."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[lonelystarrs]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐬 .prt 1

𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑆𝑢𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Suguru was the calm and Satoru was the storm, you either had to learn to sail the sea or abandon ship. Either way it wasn’t going to be easy.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI • smut • hurt/comfort • poly relationship • Angst • potential part two if this gets enough attention • cum play • semi public exposure • f/m only but read it how you want •

In all honesty you weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this situation, it was all a blur and it all happened so fast that it was difficult to think about specific moments on how you’d gotten involved with Gojo and Geto like this.

The only stages you remembered was returning back to Japan, back to Jujustu Tech and Suguru becoming part of your life again.

Knowing him since you were both young, separating to grow up on difference sides of the planet and him taking you under his wing when you came back.

Everything always felt so calm, so natural with him and he’d grown up too well, dark locks tied into bun with that stray lock you just wanted to twirl around your finger. He was beautiful.

The chaos soon arrived in the form of Satoru Gojo, who seemed to hate you at first —at least it felt like that, always rolling his eyes, flippant towards you in ways that made you feel he hated you. Trying to avoid having you around Geto, acting like you weren’t really needed when he was there. It wasn’t until he started whining about you taking up too much of Suguru’s time did you realise that it wasn’t hate.

It was jealousy.

Blue eyes would watch with an expression you couldn’t quite pick apart, but the conflict in them were obvious.

So to get back at him with his shitty, annoyingly childishly behaviour you’d flirt harder with Suguru, physically be with him in ways that made Gojo shut the fuck up and sulk.

However, Satoru wasn’t easily defeated, Suguru wasn’t giving up on you either and it didn’t take him long to come to a resolve that he should be allowed into the scenario.

He should be allowed to share.

He’d push his dessert towards Suguru and you, suggesting that you shared it with him because he was selfless and willing to split something in enjoyed between you all.

Then asking if you both wanted to try his lollypop he’d been sucking on.

Apparently you were both supposed to understand his underlining messages in his weird attempt to suggesting that you should be shared.

It was how you became an object for them, they didn’t word it like that but it was how you were starting to feel lately.

Just something in the middle of them to hold the balance because the bridge between them was rocky at times. You brought together what they couldn’t, Satoru’s conflicting closeness for Suguru disappeared with you.

Truthfully it started fine, but the distance started to form when you’d catch Satoru with other girls flirting and numbers stuffed into his pockets.

It didn’t make sense, why ask to be part of something then continue to seemingly keep his options open?

It stirred something heavy, yet hollow in your chest that surged through your veins until a voice was screaming at you to distance yourself from them. It made you question the entire situation and perhaps it wasn’t as serious to them as you thought.

You weren’t officially theirs and clearly they weren’t yours, at least nothing ever official was spoken about, Satoru still flaunting himself eagerly was proof of that and it only solidified your assumptions as of late.

You didn’t feel like theirs, no matter how many times they chanted ownership over you before post nut clarity hit painfully.

There’s only so many times that delusion can work her magic and it was starting to fade into the harsh reality that this wasn’t healthy —it wasn’t going to end well and your natural defence was to try create some distance. Hoping they’d find something else to keep them entertained and just let you fizzle out, it avoided communication sure, but it meant you didn’t have to hear that this was nothing but sex.

But distance was near impossible to achieve with Gojo Satoru involved, he was needy and his tongue circled your clit in a way that made your mind blank, knocking the heavy doubt from your chest. Your heart pounding in your ribs as he gripped your hips so tightly you knew they’d bruise.

He was eating you out with such desperation you’d think his life was dependant on it, you could hear him damn well slurping, sucking and it was lewd. Usually he teased, taunted or took his time but he was borderline feral as he messily ate you out today, it was uncoordinated with no pattern.

The only thing silencing you was Suguru’s cock pushing further down your throat until he felt that restraint of muscle pop to let his dick through. He balanced himself by pressing his hands to the desk under you on either side of your ribs, no longer needing them to guide his dick.

A long airy moan of relief leaving him feeling your throat around him, precum smeared across your lips and chin because he’d been lightly tapping his cock there to ask for access.

This was supposed to be a simple mission split between you all, it was easier to divide and take down the three curses residing here.

You were supposed to go report to the Yaga after this, not taking any longer than needed but the curtain was still up. Gojo and you dealing with your targets first, him pushing you towards a desk in the abandoned classroom until Geto appeared. Sliding the door open to watch as his fellow strongest buried his face between your legs.

“You’re too greedy, Satoru.” Suguru breathed a moan as he half leaned over your body on the desk, pushing his cock to the hilt and you gagged a bit. He was watching as Satoru’s openly tongued your clit and swirled it, spit and slick mixing into a glisten covering his mouth. Your hips trying to roll but larger hands held you down, firmly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles.

Satoru had turned the chair in front to face the desk you were on, literally taking a seat to eat. His thumbs rubbing in circles over your thighs as they twitched and tried to tighten.

“She tastes s’good though,” he slurred against you giving a particularly rough swirl with his tongue, “-she’s cum s’much as well.”

Blue eyes finally looked up only to see your head tilted back on the desk, Suguru’s hands planted either side of your ribs as he leaned over you and his cock bulging down your throat. Gojo moaned into you as he watched it flex in you.

“Shit, Suguru I can see your dick in her throat, she’s takin’ it so well.” Gojo moaned against you, lips moving against your pussy with each letter, pushing his fingers into the hilt and spreading them inside you. Pressing his tongue flat against you as he spread you open, licking a thick strip up past your clit until he was making his way up your body.

He stopped when he reach your throat that bulged with Suguru’s cock. Pressing his lips to it for a kiss, before pressing his tongue against it, Suguru’s hand moved up to grip his white hair encouraging him to press his tongue harder against it.

“Yeah? Feel it Satoru?”

He flexed his cock down your throat again, purposely this time as if to physically aid his question, the movement felt against Gojo’s tongue causing him to moan and nod his head. Fingers leaving you he fisted his own dick for a few pumps before he pressed the thick tip to your entrance.

“Hey, you good?” Suguru’s soothing voice filtered through the arousal, bringing some clarity before Gojo made his move.

Geto pulled his hips back, giving you the opportunity to inhale as he watched your chest heave, the spit linking from his cock to your tongue until it broke. Gojo’s hands placed either side of your hips as he angled his hips, pressing his thick head to spread your entrance.

Geto always being the more observant one, took in your condition, ribs heaving to bring in more air to your lungs, eyes dazed and glazed over, your body twitching as Satoru inched his way past your tight hole.

“Hold it Satoru-“ Suguru’s hands cupped the back of your head gently making you lean up to meet his eyes. Your name leaving his lips so smoothly it almost made you groan, it was enough to focus your eyes back on his and a small smile twitched at his mouth looking down at you past his cock.

“Welcome back,” humming in response to Suguru you shifted, rolling your hips so Satoru inched himself in further, his fingers curling into a fist either side of your hips against the desk beneath you as he exhaled pushing himself forward. His mouth hung ajar as he fixed his eyes on the side of his dick disappearing into your cunt with a wet sound, seeing you spread to accommodate him.

“S-shit, pretty you’re so tight. It hurting to take this big cock? Feels like it,” Satoru’s charming taunt with a groan only made you tighten around him and his hips stuttered, airy moan leaving him mixed with a chuckle.

You shifted uncomfortably as you stood in front of Yaga at Jujustu Tech to report back on the mission.

The discomfort was due to Satoru having stolen your panties claiming he’d lost them and you feeling the warmth leaking down your legs as your body hummed in a pleasant ache.

It didn’t match the hollow feeling in your chest now the high from sex had left.

Satoru found it hilarious as mixed cum had started to dribble down your legs and you tried to squeeze your thighs together to stop it, worried someone would see. He casually leaned down, those gangly ass arms of his easily reaching the back of your thigh, only to push it back up your legs, past your skirt to your pussy and back in your swollen hole from behind.

Your hips lurched forward and a strangled noise left you. Suguru stood slightly in front of you and held his hand out behind him to support you.

“What is wrong with her?” Yaga questioned, attention drifting to see you with your head down hidden behind Suguru.

“Nothing, she got injured but she’s fine.” Suguru covered for you both, keeping his calm facade up as he stared forward to answer the questions.

Satoru leaned forward, his lips grazed your ear as he whispered.

“Eh? Don’t waste it, told you to keep it all in didn’t I? C’mon you were so good for us earlier.”

“What was that, Gojo?”

“Nothin’ I’m just makin’ sure she’s okay!”

“Can uh-“ you cleared your throat as the words came out choked, Satoru’s finger leaving you to place his hand on the small of your back, “-can I go home now if we’re done?”

“Nah, gotta go see Shoko before I can take you back.”

“Gojo I wanna go home, I’m fine. Just need to rest.”

The six eyes pouted at your use of his last name, taking a more formal approach with him compared to earlier, quickly masking it by swinging an arm over your shoulders unable to read the actual mood, Suguru however had noticed.

He seen you tense when the six eyes arm embraced you, pulling you into his side playfully and grinning like nothing was wrong.

It didn’t make sense, how could you flinch like it made you uncomfortable? It’s a stark difference considering they were just the two guys that had fucked you in an abandoned school.

“Oh yeah? Fine, I’ll drop ya back then!”

Your eyes widened realising what he was about to do and Suguru only heard half your sentence before you were cut off, disappearing as Satoru teleported you back to your home.

Left to stare at the spot you both were, with a small frown on his face.

Since when did you start looking uncomfortable around them?

“You boys are around her a lot. Is there something you need to tell me, Suguru?”

Satoru didn’t just drop you back and leave —of course he didn’t.

He’d teleported right into your dorm room, hands grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you up to his waist.

Lips pressing wetly against your neck as he left sloppy kisses in his path, walking towards your bed before dumping you on it with a bounce.

“Gojo-“

His knee separated yours, knocking them apart and he groaned as his eyes peered over the rims of his glasses to look at your poor swollen pussy, cum leaking from it.

“Damn, that’s- shit that’s so hot.” Blue eyes fixated on you leaving you to feel a little self conscious and you tried to close your legs, repeating his name.

Satoru clicked his tongue, eyes leaving to meet up with yours.

“Gojo?” He repeated, some cocky smirk twitching at his lips “-c’mon it’s Toru to you, you forgot already huh? Well, I guess I have time to remind you.”

It was hard to ignore the pulses to your clit, throbbing to be touched again when he pulled open his uniform, seeing your nail marks still down his sides from earlier, the outline of his cock hard under his trousers that slapped up against his six pack when he released it.

Wrapping a hand around himself he fucked his fist for you, his mouth falling agape slightly his hips twitching from still being sensitive.

He never done anything alone with you, in fact Suguru never had either it was always both of them, never one alone and it made your heart kick against your ribs.

His patience ran its course and he leaned forward to rip your shirt off in one clean motion, buttons flying across the room. Hand pressing to your shoulder he pushed you back to lean onto your elbows as he crawled onto the bed, your knees automatically rising to his sides tucking under his armpits.

Gojo rubbed his cock against your clit, your hands reaching up to remove his glasses from his face and discard them to the side.

The stretch hurt, pussy still sore from taking them both earlier but it was almost forgotten with how deeply Satoru looked into your eyes as he filled you again.

“S’it, you’re taking it so well pretty girl-“ his praise was unusual, it wasn’t so direct like this and you hated how it made you clench around him, how he made your heart flutter in your chest, “-oh? You like the praise huh? A praise and degradation kink? Think we hit the jackpot with you hmm?”

He laughed when you clenched around him again, burying himself to the hilt he snuggled in his face into your neck, panting against your skin his voice moany as he spoke.

“Our girl,” he mumbled, rotating his hips in a swirl that had you crying out, “-ours.”

He stayed so close to you, it was almost loving, but you couldn’t be sure because Satoru had never slept with you without Suguru. But it felt loving, every thrust was slow but hard, your body jolting with each thrust as his sticky balls slapped against your ass. His kisses so wet and sloppy between moaning against your skin.

“You -hah- you have any fucking idea how good you feel? Still full of our cum? Oh damn, it’s so hot knowing I’m using it to fuck ya -you’re filth.“

You cried out to him as you came, babbling into his shoulder pathetically because it was all too much, tears spilled from your eyes as you hung onto him for dear life.

Scared of falling into the overwhelming emotion that started to course through you, that doubt in him starting to wash away with each loving thrust, each word of praise against your skin.

Those feelings you tried to bury for him, tried to avoid surfaced as he kissed your tears away praising you further over the wet squelching of his cock fucking into you.

“It’s so damn sloppy,” He whined into your neck as his thrusts started turning sloppy and desperate, a delay between each hard slap.

When he came again it was hard, he whined in a way you’d never heard and his body stuttered above you, losing his strength to hold himself up as he let himself almost flop onto you. Panting into your ear as his hips jolted, pressed up to your hips as his cock flexed inside you, cum somehow still spitting out his dick into your cunt filling you again.

“I’m still damn cumin’ -fuck.”

Lifting your hips your rotated them and clenched around him, only making his body stutter —struggling to fight the overstimulation and he bit down onto your neck to the point of breaking the skin and leaving a bloody mark.

When the dust settled you didn’t find yourself crashing as usual, the usual high of being with them both remained as his loving behaviour suddenly gave you a hint of faith —maybe this could work. Maybe you needed to spend time with them alone to build something more meaningful because this felt different.

Gojo rolled over onto his back uncaring about the mess on him, you or what was now staining your sheets, a heavy sigh leaving him.

“Heyyy, you’re too far away,” he whined a little at the end, patting the space next to him and you ignored that feeling of flight trying to surface, you went to him and pressed against his side.

Everything started to feel right, to feel calm until that vibrate of a phone buzzed into the floor where Gojo had left his pants.

“Baaaaabe, make it stop.”

“It’s probably important Gojo, you should answer it.”

“Gojo again? You really like winding me up huh?” He playfully pinched at your nipple which made you laugh, beaming a goofy grin at you, blue eyes glistening watching your reaction before rolling them as the phone started to ring yet again.

“If you get it, I’ll answer it deal?”

“You too weak to get up? Thought you were the strongest,”

“Mmm, it appears I have been defeated by vagina, worth it though, she takes me like a champ.”

You cringed at him which earned you a cackle, shifting off the bed you hooked your foot under his trousers to pull it to you and grab it, shuffling the material until you found his phone that vibrated as a new text bar came through.

Your heart falling to the floor just like the bit of crumpled paper with a number also from is pocket that pulled out with the phone. A little love heart drawn next to the name and the same girls name lighting up the screen of his phone in texts next to notifications of Suguru’s missed calls.

All that hope, the comfort of finally starting to feel positive about this again, all crushed within the space of ten minutes. A short high lived only to plummet to the floor like a star dying out from the sky.

Between them, it wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t somewhere you could stay.

And you knew what you had to do.

©pharix/lonelystarrs 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

Part two is up for debate! -I won’t be doing a tagging system so please don’t ask, hitting the follow button will be your way of keeping updated :) don’t just comment asking for a part two without leaving any feedback —if you demand for part two without any effort back don’t be surprised if you’re met with a dry response or none. It’s rude.

If you reblog please leave some feedback or words/tags… it really means a lot & inspires us to write more! <3 I read every one and it makes us feel part of something after the time it all takes! :)

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Brain rot brain rot brain rot

Summary: Sanguinus pins for someone he knows he cannot have; Horus’ lover.

Relationships: Onesided Sanguinius/Fem!Reader, Horus Lupercal/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Pining, Guilty wank, Masturbation, Sanguinius is in love with Horus' beloved and he's so torn about it, Does yanking one out to the thought of fucking your pseudo-brother's future wife qualify as a warning?

The door to Sanguinius' private chambers closes behind him with a heavy slam that shakes the wall, sending the Blood Angels outside to high alert. Sanguinius winces at how much he threw the door in his anger. Now they all know he's irritated. They’ll surely ask about it later, and he’ll have to brush it off or come up with some sort of excuse to keep his captains and commanders from worrying.

Rarely does Sanguinius let his gentle facade crack, but he couldn't help it. Not this time.

Sanguinius smiled as Horus approached him, a wide smile on the Warmaster's face. His expression was warm, pleased to see him.

"My brother! How are you?"

Horus came in close and raised his left hand, clapping Sanguinius' right shoulder and holding it there. Within moments the angel's face had faltered, as the sweet scent covering Horus' hand hit his nose.

It's you.

He smelled the gentle flowers of your perfume, the salt of your sweat, and overwhelming it all was the saccharine sweet scent of your cunt on his fingers.

Horus had pleasured you so recently, the bastard might have just done so and came to talk to him, while you were still panting in another room.

Sanguinius struggled to maintain his composure- as anger, loathing and jealously all heated to a boil within him. He had tried to ignore the obvious fact for months that Horus could touch you so intimately, unlike him. But to have it shoved in his face, to flaunt what he can't have, Sanguinius wanted to do nothing more than rip away his hand and shove Horus away from him.

Out of all of them, Horus was one of the few who actually seemed to enjoy the chatter, the parties and the diplomacy. At least outwardly; Horus has always been very good at hiding how he actually feels. So of course he would be the one out of all of them to find someone. You were the daughter of a lord, owning one of the galaxy's largest trading ports. Some of the materials needed to make rations for the astartes comes from your homeworld. It worked perfectly; Horus had closer command over the ability to feed his ever growing legion, and you both had fallen for each other like star crossed lovers.

If his relationship with you was purely transactional, diplomatic, Sanguinius could feel less guilt slipping between to steal a moment of your time. But he's barely spoken to you without Horus around. You smile at him politely and given him the proper respect; He's heard you utter his titles with only respect and reverence. All the while you stay latched to Horus' arm, the two of you deeply in love; And you none the wiser that an angel pins for you.

Why does he need you so badly? Is it because he knows he can't have you? Or because you speak so sweetly, and he sees the way you look at Horus and he wants that for himself. He’s wanted it since the first time Horus introduced you.

Sanguinius will never forget the day Horus proclaimed you his beloved, and he realized he was too late.

Sanguinus throws his weight down on the edge of his bed with a thud, it creaking and complaining under his abuse. The fabric of his clothing wrinkles underneath him, bunching upward. He puts his head in his hands, elbows digging into his thighs.

He sits in silence, the feathers of his wings tight and pulled close to his body, until he shifts his legs and groans at the feeling.

He's been avoiding thinking about it. Hoping it would go away. He can feel how hard he is against his thigh, the smell of you had triggered something deep within him that was uncontrollable.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Almost angrily Sanguinius pulls at his clothing to free his cock, and groans angrily at the way he'd already leaked against his thigh. His one hand still supports his head as he wraps the other around his shaft, with little gentleness or care. Unlike what he would imagine you would do- with the soft, delicate fingers of your own hands.

He would be so gentle with you; His hands would never bruise you, his fangs would never scar you. Unless you wanted those things, to have him treat you roughly. Then he would of course oblige.

His fist tightly slides along his cock, other hand pushing a chunk of hair from his face. His leaned posture makes a pocket of hot air in front of his face, flushing his skin. His hips nudge forward, trying to drive himself deeper into the warmth of own hand. His thumb brushes over the head of his cock, his slit, and he bites the inside of his bottom lip.

If he had done differently, would you be with him instead? He remembers shortly before you’d met Horus mentioning he needed to speak with planetary governors and Sanguinius had gave a pitying laugh; If he'd joined Horus, would things have changed? Would you be wearing gold and red instead of green?

Sanguinius groans, feeling his cock throb in his hand. It's working, he feels himself getting closer and closer stomach getting tighter, but it isn't what he wants. It will work, but he knows well that it won't leave him satisfied. if anything he'll feel more empty than he was before, until it eventually fades for more pressing matters.

But stars, if he closes his eyes tight enough, clenches his hand enough, he can just maybe imagine what it would feel like if it was you. It isn't warm enough, tight enough, wet enough, but he can just barely trick himself. The feeling of you underneath him, of him slowly trying to push his cock into you; It would barely fit but he's sure if he went slow, you could take it. Your legs would struggle to fit his hips between them, but you would try to open your legs as wide as possible just to fit him.

You would sound enchanting the entire time, he's sure of it. Your voice is so soft and sweet in comparison to the booming voices he's used to, he'd struggle not to be overwhelmed by your soft cries as he fucked you and pushed you to your limit. He knows you would already be so tight, but to feel your cunt tighten around him as you came he's sure he'd barely be able to handle it; His hand moving quicker over his cock as he loses himself in his own imagination.

He would fill you to the absolute brim until you mewled helplessly, stuffed full of his own cum and forced open by his cock. Afterwards you'd look up at him- only him. Maybe you'd beg him for more, asking your angel to fuck you again and again and again until you could barely walking without feeling his cum leak down your thighs, dripping from your sore little cunt.

Or maybe you'd raise a hand up, tuck a piece of hair behind his ear as his crown braids unraveled, before you hand gently brushed along the soft feathers of his wings. You'd smile again, maybe laugh, and speak his name. He's only heard you say it twice, every other time you've always called him Lord Primarch, and he has that moment seared into his memory.

"Thank you, Sanguinius."

The angel swears, biting the inside of his cheek until he tastes the bitter iron of his own blood. His cock throbs and pulses as he finally cums on and over his hand, letting out an uncharacteristic moan at the feeling of overwhelming release as his hand continues to slide up and down his own cock to milk himself dry. He hadn't realized how long it had been since the last time he'd done this; He'd never felt much desire to until you.

Finally he dispels himself from his own memory and opens his eyes, instantly coming face to face with mess on the floor and staining his boots.

Sanguinius sighs. He is quite the angel.

He knows he should return to the Red Tear; They are due to depart and return to Baal. And you'll return with Horus to the Vengeful Spirit, laying in Horus' bed as the Warmaster kisses your skin, and not him.

Getting up he rustles his wings to right his feathers, adjusting his clothes. He finds something to clean the evidence of his shame away and then once he's done, he leaves his quarters to go pretend he is happy for Horus once more.

[saintzweig]

wait i have an idea for a fic… what if patrick met a girl just (if not more) heartless than him? he usually just blows girls off, left and right because he’s uninterested in anything more than a hookup. yet, this one was different. he was actually into her and wanted to see where things could go. to his surprise, she would blow him off. make excuses not to see him because she was “busy” with school or work. when in reality, she was busy entertaining herself with other people.. going on dates and flaunting over the stuff they would treat her to. posting it on her socials and not caring to acknowledge that he would see it. so one day, he finally decides to confront her about her bullshit in person.

patrick meeting someone who's as red flag and non-committal as him, what goes around comes back around!!! he's hooked up with some (a lot of) girls, treating them how boyfriends would without actually being their boyfriend then refusing when they ask for more than that. this definitely earned him the title of mr. situationship on campus. he's the type of person who only wants to have fun, where's the fun in being tied down?

that was until you. the two of you met at some random frat house art invited him to, immediately hitting it off by the kitchen island filled with alcohol drinks. you two had similar personalities– the same humor and outlook in life. the two of you hooked up for the first time that night, drunk on some disgusting punch that someone definitely spiked. the sex felt like heaven, you touched him in places that no one ever bothered to. always being the one to give, he was surprised and more than pleased that you wanted to take the lead.

it transformed into something more consistent and casual, friends with benefits if you will. showing up at each other's door when you need to blow off some steam or reward yourself with pleasure.

until patrick started feeling nervous, suddenly wanting to impress you and prove himself to you. which he thought was unnecessary because this was all casual, right? he started tidying himself up, getting rid of girls on his roster, he even lit candles when you would come over– you knew what this mean, this wasn't what you agreed on.

so you start blowing him off, telling him you have too much on your plate at the moment. in reality, you're scared because you know he wants more and you know you can't give it to him. it was the same thing he told you about himself some time ago, surely he'd understand, right? and to take your mind off it, you start going out more. you post photos of yourself sitting on someone's lap at a party, having dinner dates or photos of yourself in someone's car– patrick would always be the first one to see it.

he showed up at your door one night, visibly drunk. as soon as you opened it, he immediately started telling you how much he misses you, how much he wants you for himself, how much he's willing to do better for you. but he wasn't the problem, you don't doubt that he can do that– you doubt that you can. but he's adamant, saying it doesn't matter, he promises to change your mind about him and your relationship. you've never seen him like this before, eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with yearning.

so you step aside, letting him in. he took this as your answer, that you're opening up and willing to give it a try. what better way to start your new relationship off than pushing you onto your bed and eating the fuck out of you in a way that you'll only be able to receive from him? it's definitely working with the way you're arching your back and pulling on his curls.

[reveluving]

you know what I just thought of? Shy wife is used to going to neighbour cookouts and gatherings alone since Graves is often away. She gets hit on quite a bit but always reminds everyone she’s very happily married (I mean haven’t they seen the rock on her finger?)

Then one day she finally shows up with Phil at one of those gatherings and he’s so confident his relationship with her, he can’t help but laugh at those guys cause he knows she only has eyes for him 😌 (he prolly proceeds to fuck her within an inch of her life lbr)

Also completely unrelated but shy wife getting a tiny discreet tattoo of his initials or their last name, and he discovers it while fucking her after getting back from a mission

-🍬

*Rubbing my hands together like a villain* I kicked my feet in the air the second I received this!!! You, my dearest, are a MASTERMIND 🙏🏼😩

Includes: brief smut at the end (minors DNI!), petnames (‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty girl’), mentions of possessive!phil, you get a lil’ tatt for him, slight humour & loads of fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Whether you’d like to imagine it while you’re Phil’s wife or fiancée, I’d like to imagine the latter more, since engagement rings tend to look more upscale than wedding bands. So imagine the immediate (but not enough) sting one would feel as soon as they boldly come up to you, hoping for a chance. It’s impossible not to acknowledge the large diamond cut around your finger, twinkling even at the smallest movements. 

It usually drives them away, but you’ll also have insistent ones, keen on making you sway while they nurse their injured pride to health.

Or even when married, no doubt Phil gets you the most out-there-looking band—why should he settle for less for any occasion, after all?

For Phil, he’d rather be caught dead in a ditch than potentially lose his actual ring on the battlefield. It’s why he has a silicone wedding band instead, personally chosen by you, thus why it’s almost as special as his main one. While he’d rather not potentially let a single scratch on his actual band, he still wants a part of you with him. Remind him of the memories you’ve made and will make every time he comes home. 

But on the other hand, it’s a possession thing.

Phil’s confidence in your relationship is just as massive as him carrying himself to the world, so the ring is more of a warning, as mentioned before, to those thinking they’d even have a grain of chance with you. He knows people take advantage of beautiful sweethearts like you because as soon as you give them a crumb of attention, you can only hope someone saves you from their infernal yapping.

The best part about it, to Phil, is that you don’t mind feeding his ego, just as he lives for them like a dog showering in its owner’s praises, because you know he achieves them all, be it his work or otherwise. But God knows if the men flirting with you were being truthful about the little stories they’ve conjured up to impress you.

Plus, you prefer Phil’s attention over theirs, absolutely no competition.

Especially when Phil finds the time (read: makes sure) to attend these cookouts.

Even if he doesn’t frequent to them as much as you do, he’s a household name. Literally. The hosts of the cookouts, Rick and his wife greet you like you’ve known each other for years; the same pair who’d save you from your demise each time they’d realize you were dragged into a one-sided or possibly uncomfortable conversation.

Phil is rare to be seen without you by his side, and none of you minded. A symbiotic system as Phil gets to flaunt you to all the desperate guys out there while playing guard dog. With unamused looks and sharp glares or even condescending smiles when they realize that he is the infamous Phillip Graves you and the hosts have been talking about. Somehow he knows which of them to send his warnings to, even if you’ve never given him their description.

"I did promise the missus I'd come one day." Phil joked with the group when Rick and his wife teased him for finally coming over, pulling you close to his side because he knew they were watching. You didn't, well, couldn't (not that you wanted to very much) spare even a second for them when your husband naturally had your attention.

And you get to seek comfort from him. Plus, it’s ten times fun with each other in these gatherings. Good food, good conversation and best of all, good company.

Now, tattoos. Ah, tattoos.

I imagine you’ve been considering one for a while and without his knowledge. Only because you know he’d be nosey enough to be able to draw an answer out of you. It takes a bit of time though, largely due to the commitment of it. You want one, of course, but to have one, you’ll want one that’s truly meaningful.

Should it be Graves or just G? Or should you opt for P.G. instead? What font would you want, how big would it be and where?

Even when you’ve finalised your answers, there’s a lingering bit of fear that it won’t be to your or his liking. But you’ve known the man long enough to know that so long that your heart belonged to him, cherished and cared for, you knew his heart will always belong to you too.

A small, single ‘G’ tattooed on your wrist in a flourish font. I initially thought of a finger tattoo but I heard not many artists recommend it, but that's beside the point! 

Just imagine him coming home after a tough time at work, pent-up until he has his wife underneath him. He only notices the ink on your wrist as his fingers interlock with yours. He slows his thrusts, but not he's stopping either.

If anything it reaches deeper into you when he realizes what the tattoo indicates.

“Pretty girl,” He purrs, pinning your wrist to brush his lips along the semi-sensitive spot. There's something about the way he carefully presses his lips to your pulse, only for his eyes to flit to your glassy ones with such danger. Such passion.

Such… eagerness.

“Didn't tell me y‘had a surprise.” The way surged his hips forward rather suddenly, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a petulant pout had your lips parting, letting out a shaky moan even before you could protest. 

“I–I wanted to…” You whined, silently begging him not to stop with your feet against his back, even if it fogged your mind from thinking straight, from making sense as you spoke, “I had it… L–Last month...” 

It has Phil feel some type of way—the best way, that is. If seeing his love handling her wedding ring with much care doesn't make him go crazy already, then this definitely would. Be prepared to have your hands pinned, be it to the bed, the wall, in the shower, wherever, whenever, so long they—both the tattoo and the ring, face him for a little while.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[anomaly-hivemind]

Whose Better ☆ Gang orca x Reader x Shishido | Kinktober Day 18

Summary: It had all started over a simple joke you had said absentmindedly.

Word Count: 1081

Tags: spitroasting, large cock, roughsex, non-human genitalia, rivals with benefits,

It had all started over a simple joke you had said absentmindedly, and now the two heroes were fighting each other like they tend to already do, but now there was an added match you had thrown into the fires of their rivalry.   This is how you ended up in this oversized bed, stripped of your clothes and sandwiched between the pro heroes.  

"It's not like you get with many women anyway," Shishido said while holding your hips and grinding into you a little. Whether it was intentional or not, you can’t tell them again. You don’t mind the feeling. 

"I can actually satisfy women the first time around, but you can't say the same. "  Sakamata said he was holding one of your legs open; you look over to him before talking. 

“You must be around each other a LOT to know these things so well.” You muttered to yourself more than you did to them because neither of them was listening to you.

Couldn't help but think or at least assume that these two had some kind of relationship beyond just their rivalry.  The comments and verbal jabs to each seem too personal, too intimate, and a bit private. You wouldn't even be surprised if these two have done countless other things besides fight and bicker behind closed doors. Their tension goes beyond whose better than you were certain.  You were merely an outlet that they intended to use in the current situation. 

Another thing that you didn’t mind about this whole situation was  They were both rather entertaining, and the way they sandwiched your naked body kept you nice and warm as well.   

“I've never seen you remotely have a partner” Shishido gives Sakamata a shit-eating grin and pulls you back onto him. Your body is tilted to that unbalanced angle. 

“ Obviously, I wouldn't be flaunting them around public spaces for their safety, use your head”  Gangorca scolded him as if he had been tried by a toddler.

“He does have a point,” You murmured, but this time, your comment did catch their attention.

“Whose side are you on!” shishido moves back, and you get ready to fall backward onto the bed.

“Obviously, the one common sense.”  Sakamata catches you and holds you against his exposed chest, his large hands holding on to you firmly. Where did his shirt go? You don't know…

“That's supposed to be you.”  Shishido yanks you from Sakamata, and you let out a dry ow as you get jostled back and forth

“Do you really want me to answer that…” You've got a little dizzy from  being somewhat aggressively shaken between the two men.

“Fuck…me” You huff, and the shaking of your body stops, and with that, your dizziness with it.

“That's a good idea. Then we can prove who's really the better one.” Shishido started to strip out of his clothes to become as naked as you are.

“Wait, what?” You didn't actually process what he said, and you're not too sure if you understood him correctly. What are they doing?

“This is one way to prove things.” Sakamata takes off his pants and undergarments. Are you really about to witness a literal dick-measuring contest?  You were watching the two as they had left you sitting on the bed so they could compare sizes. It was completely ridiculous. 

“You know that isn't going to prove much of anything right. Especially if your goal is to please women.”  They both seem to think about your words for a short moment.

“Guess you'll be what proves who's better,” they kind of said in a messy version of unison as they walked towards you with a new look at determination, hunger and desire.

—-----------------

“Yeah, this will show you who the best really is,” Shishido groaned as he thrusted into your mouth. Your head rested on his raised leg as he fucked your mouth at an angle.  He gave you little time to adjust before he was roughly pushing into your mouth.  Not that you were complaining,

“We’ll see about that” Sakamata held your hip as his thick but slim cock filled you up before being pulled all the way out of you.

  You were on cloud nine, if not a bit overwhelmed. Once you get used to the completely different rhythms pounding into you, they will switch something up.  They both pull away from you and flip you on your back, Sakamata crossing your legs over your stomach an fucking into your lifted cunt. With Shishido slapping his dick on top of your face before jerking on top of you. You look up and feel the need to stir the pot.

“Who's better at kissing?” You smirk and move, quickly taking Shishido back into the depths of your mouth.  

“How the hell are we supposed to do that when you're sucking dick?!” Shishido let out a cursed moan, feeling your mouth wrapped around his length.

“She wants us to decide that, obviously.”  He rams his hips into you before grabbing the other man's shoulder.

“I'll show you!” They moved closer together, which only moved them deeper into you from opposite ends.

Before you knew it, when you looked back up after being lost in your own head, you saw the two rivals locking lips. As they pushed your body back and forth, Sakamata and Shishido’s tongues twirled around each other. The kiss was passionate and heated, the kind that certainly led to third base if you ignored the fact that you all were already there. 

When they pulled apart, a string of saliva connected their lips, and you could hear their low growls. They exchanged words, each claiming that each one was the better kisser before that went back in for another, seemingly needing more judgment.

Just when you were about to come, they pulled out and jerked above you. Your hands traveled down to your cunt, teasing and circling it until your legs tensed and shook, and you released the waves of ecstasy upon yourself. A wanton moan escaped your mouth. You could hear their moans above you as pleasure coursed through your being. Warm spurts on cum decorated your body as the two pros worked out their semen above you.

After the three of you caught your breath, the two pros looked down at you expectantly, waiting for any answer to the question that had slipped your mind for a moment.

“Would you guys be mad if I said it was a tie?”

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Stop i feel like it would be so cute if you wrote about how one of the twins (bill or Tom) fell in love at first sight with reader and just became infatuated with them since

I feel like Tom would be such a cute option tho because YKNOW he’s a playboy BUT I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE SO CUTE IF HE JUST FELL IN LOVE WITH READER AND NEVER LOOKED BACK

Love at First Sight

It felt so weird for everyone involved

Tom Kaulitz, the fucking playboy, was in love??

It was so shocking that even Bill feared what was going on

Tom didn't even know how to feel at first

He was used to flirting with fans, living how he wanted and not giving a shit

Until he saw you

He saw you and immediately it felt like something paused the entire world and he could only see you

He didn't even talk to you yet! 

You just looked so MF beautiful

He couldn't help but stare at you

Especially when he heard your laugh along with seeing your smile

He couldn't help but freeze up for a minte

It was probably at a concert you went to

You asked for a autograph and legit had to ask twice to break him out of his staring at you

Once he got over that, he started flirting a bit to try and see what was going on

You even flirted a bit back, but not like the other fangirls did

Not tryna be that girl, but you caught his attention quickly

Be it your personality, your style, how you looked, carried yourself or confidence

You did something right that night

Tom legit was pacing wondering if his heart was broken because it didn't seem the same

He seized his opportunity and somehow got your number

The rest I shall leave up to you

After y'all get together he is so smug and flirty and proud he got you

Fans were so shocked when they saw he was in a relationship

Especially when pictures of you guys were leaked

And you can tell he was visibly whipped!

You guys were shopping? 

He's holding your bags with his card in your hand

He's holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek, has his hand in your back pocket, dodging paparazzi with you and almost shamelessly making out practically 

He is not scared to flaunt this mf relationship because he can and he is somehow so happy in it

He didn't think he would actually find that specific great love

You somehow changed his perception of love

He will kiss you, hold you, be held by you, bring you onstage, run back to you backstage

Somehow he will always find you and you cannot escape

So many pictures of him just staring at you with somehow such a loving look in his eyes

He changed somehow so much and the band is almost thanking you

Fans are always up your ass for "changing" him

Mostly crazed fangirls, but neither of you can give a shit

He found you, and somehow, you let him have his chance

Treats you so well as to not risk losing you

Feels so bad in arguments

Like, babe, don't fight

And mother fucker snatched it and will not let go

He turns into such a child

Wanting his hair played with, somehow making you match with him, sleeping on top of you on the bus, sharing hotel room

Will do what you ask no matter what it is somehow

Nobody shall dare get in his way

Tom has a mission when it regards you and he shall complete it no matter what

He turned into such a loveable simp and we cannot handle

Will legit carry you around if you want

Buys you whatever the hell you want, ho don't care about the cost

Has fuck you money that he will willingly go broke spending on you

Loves the smiles and the laughs you bring him

He feels like such a sap at times but loves having you hold his face

He legit wants to just be so close to you that he can crawl into your skin at times it's so clingy

You have literally fell asleep almost inside of his shirt, both slithered inside of the giant oversized shirt on a couch

He loves the nights you guys just stay up and do anything and everything

He is secretly so corny, flirty and charming it's like a total other persona

[sukunasweetheart]

can i just say i love your fics SMMMM my serotonin boost fr!!! what do we think abt him with an s/o who has a lot of admirers 👁

THANK YOUU here is a treat 4 u <3

sorry i ended up doing too much and also going off-topic a bit oops

it ended up becoming modern au!sukuna 😭 forgive me (gender neutral reader)

sukuna is so used to being the one overshadowing the others - he's used to being the one admired, revered, respected, for his power and intelligence. it's safe to say he'd also be used to seeing people fight each other just for a lick of his attention - desiring for even just a glance from his way. so it's a given that he's not used to feelings of possessiveness or jealousy.

but now that he has you, someone who always has others admiring you from both closeby and afar, he's beginning to understand those petty sensations and thoughts. he's obviously never one to be insecure about your popularity, on most occasions, he even likes to make a show of it - he enjoys seeing them gnashing their teeth with envy as he flaunts his relationship with you in front of their faces - "see this? all mine," he seems to say, as he openly kisses you in public.

but when it catches him on a bad day, perhaps following a bad argument, he sees you with someone who is obviously interested in being more than just a friend to you (which you're not aware of, frustratingly so), and he starts feeling sick to his stomach. with everyone else who came before you, sukuna would simply tell them "don't like it? then leave," whenever they voiced complaints to him about their relationship... but now it's the opposite of what he wants. just the thought of you being with someone that isn't him gets his heart dropping to the ground, making him feel restless.

he knows he isn't the best at being soft. nor at using the kindest words when he gets heated. he'll always be more selfish than selfless, and he's not the most emotionally intelligent. it's unlike him to use words like 'i'm sorry' or 'i love you' so he's uneasy for the moment where you might find someone who'll be everything that he isn't amongst your sea of admirers, and that you'll leave him and never look back.

it's simply so humiliating, feeling this way... he's not sure what to do about it. you seem to be seriously upset this time around, and he knows brushing past it or glossing over it using his usual charm (which is a bad habit that he has) isn't going to work. you're not acknowledging him or responding to his texts properly or saying good morning or goodnight and it's driving him insane because he misses it... you're not looking at him. he's the one gazing at you, longingly.

sukuna will pin you down eventually, somewhere, somehow, and trap you so that you're not able to avoid him any longer. he'll drag you away from your stupid little crowd of spectators and talk to you in private, where'll spend ten minutes trying to apologise in a strange, roundabout and aggressive way because he knows it's his own damn fault. you know him, so you're able to recognise that he's trying to say sorry. your gaze is still elsewhere, looking off to the side instead of him. and that bothers him immensely.

"why won't you look at me?" god, he sounds so sad and pathetic.

truth is, sukuna now simply withers out and dies a little without your attention. what can he do to have that spotlight upon him once again? why are your eyes on anybody, anything, that isn't him? pay attention to me, and me only.

when you finally spare him a glance, he feels like breathing again. and he'll fight tooth and nail to keep that gaze of yours on him. fuck your insignificant and measly admirers. he's all you need, and sukuna's going to make sure of it. (he'll compromise for you, if he has to.)

he's definitely overstimming you in bed that night, in order to catch up on all the lost pride and attention that you'd deprived him of.

tagging; @gojos-thot-patrol <3 hope its to your liking.. even tho its not as angsty as i originally intended it to be haha

Masterlist

[celestiababie]

Wined & Dined - C.SC

Pairings: rich bf! Seungcheol x afab! reader

Genre: fluff, smut, established relationship

Warnings: cursing, dom! Seungcheol, Seungcheol likes spending money, strength kink, oral (reader rec), restraint play, use of toys, overstim (reader rec), let me know if I'm missing anything else

Word Count: 879

Summary: It's your birthday, and your boyfriend can't help but give you everything you deserve.

A/N: This is a birthday gift to Mar🌙 Happy birthday to my most chaotic anon 🥺

"Seungcheol!! You promised you wouldn't go overboard this year!" You huffed out

Turning to face your boyfriend, who happened to have the most annoying (and hot) smug look on his face, you glare at him, even though your heart fluttered and your eyes had a storm of tears brewing and ready to cascade down your cheeks.

Seungcheol was a successful man in his field, you knew this fact getting into a relationship with him, and if you said it didn't intimidate you...you'd be a filthy liar. But Seungcheol always reassured you over the years that he never looked down on you due to his own status. He always respected you and treated you as his equal.

However, he took absolutely no issue and even relished flaunting his wealth when it came. More specifically, spoiling the fuck out of you on random occasions and set ones such as tonight.

Your birthday.

Seungcheol had a track record of going above and beyond for your birthday. He'd plan the most extravagant trips to places you could only imagine, buy you anything your eyes lingered on for even a second while shopping with him, and treat you like majesty because that's what he thought you deserved.

And not once over the years had Seungcheol wished for anything back other than loyalty and your love.

"You don't like it? I can always get my plan b ready if a yacht would make tonight better," Seungcheol casually muttered as he stepped a foot closer to you to wrap his arms around your waist.

A yacht??

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, staring at Seungcheol as if he had two heads which only widened the smug smirk on Seungcheol's face.

If you had any complaints about the gorgeous hotel room roughly 3 times the size of your apartment, you'd be the most ungrateful (and stupid) person alive.

But the fireplace that practically enticed you to snuggle up with Seungcheol near it, the candle-lit dinner with a starter already prepared and a bottle of wine you couldn't pronounce couldn't compare to the pure adoration you saw laced in Seungcheol deep brown eyes.

As much as overspending made you uncomfortable at times, you knew gifts were Seungcheol's love language, and he loved watching the surprise on your face each time he made a minor dent in his bank account for you.

"Seungcheol, this is more than amazing. It's just...you promised to not go overboard this year," you huff as your arms rest on his shoulder, fingertips toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Come on, Y/N. You know this is tame for me. We'd be in Italy right now if it were up to me. Now, let's eat before the food gets cold. We have a lovely 5-course meal to enjoy."

Seungcheol takes hold of your hand and guides you to the dinner table, your mind fuzzy from trying to adjust to being spoiled despite dating Seungcheol for a while.

"Well, it's a 6-course meal for me, but that's after we're done at the table," Seungcheol whispers into your ear as he comes up behind you to pull your chair out for you like a gentleman despise the tone of his voice painting a sinful image in your mind.

"S-Seungcheol, fuck— s'good baby," you moan out, your eyes rolling back for the third time as your body uncontrollably shakes from the feeling of Seungcheol's lips wrapped around your clit and the vibrator toy (one of many gifts) moving in and out of you from his expert hands.

You had some idea of what your boyfriend was insinuating earlier, but none of your perverted thoughts would have prepared you for what he was planning inside that devious head of his.

You bring your hands that were currently tied together with velvet tie from his dress shirt from a brand you couldn't bother to pay attention to when you two feverishly undressed each other, down to your face, biting down on the soft material to try to muffle out your pathetic cries of pleasure.

Seungcheol was in deep concentration as his tongue worked around your clit, but he immediately took note of the sudden decrease in volume and pulled his lips away from you.

Leaning up to make eye contact with you, Seungcheol fiddled with the toy inside of you, turning it up to the highest speed as his other hand grabbed hold of your wrists, placing your hands about your head once again.

Your cunt clenched around the toy at his display of dominance, your body squirming underneath his hold, the overstimulating starting to kick in as your fourth orgasm started to build.

"I got the penthouse suite just so I can hear how pretty you sound, baby. Don't be shy. Let it all out for me. It's your birthday, baby, no holding back tonight," his husky voice whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine as you came around the toy again, his sensual voice sending you over the edge.

"That's it, cum for me. Want you to make a fucking mess all over the bed, Y/N. Gonna make you cum over and over again."

Fucked out of your brain and a blubbering mess was definitely one way to spend your birthday.