#let me know if you're sick of it & i'll stop!

[angelltheninth]

Cursed Tea Party

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, love potion, aphrodisiac, orgasm control, yandere behavior, rough sex, love confession, overstimulation, being cockdrunk

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: I don't remember when I wrote this or why but I did. And here it is for you all. A bit more dark than usual.

There was something wrong with you. You could tell ever since you left the tea party. Actually before then. It was the reason you left, you couldn't stand being there anymore, with your head spinning, body getting so hot you had to take off your uniform jacket and loosen up your bowtie to make breathing easier. It didn't help. Maybe a cold shower would do, if not, maybe one of the toys you had hidden away in your closet.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? I could escort you back if you're sick." Riddle was the first one to notice how bad you were looking. It was his party so naturally he wanted to keep an eye on all the attendees.

"No, no!" The moment his voice reached your ears the throbbing and heat became nearly too much to handle. You had an urge to push him down, kiss him, tell him about every sinful fantasy you've ever had and beg for him to be the to fulfill them. "I swear I'm alright, I think I may have caught something. But I can make it back on my own."

None of the boys seemed to happy about that. You promised you'd call one of them when you're in your room and let them know you're fine. That was an hour ago. How could you get so lost in the labyrinth? Riddle didn't change it, as far as you knew. Every turn seemed to lead nowhere. Left, right, going back, nothing worked. You were simply lost. Lost and so painfully horny.

"Oh my, are you still here?" When did Riddle get behind you? Was he here to help you? "I thought I sensed someone here. What's the matter? Are you lost?" He walked up to you with the grace of a ruler, his crown perfectly in place, staff twirled in his hand and a very amused smile on his lips. So fucking sexy. "You're making a puddle. Hm, perhaps I put in a little too much." He frowned for a moment but then shrugged it off, like it didn't seem like vital information.

"Too much? What do you-" He took your hand in his, his touch and lips so hot they hurt your skin. It was nothing compared to the vines and thorns that crept up behind you and bound you up against the labyrinth wall. "Riddle? What's going on? What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Unfortunately I can't do that, my sweet rose. What you consumed in your tea was a very powerful aphrodisiac. I should have considered the dosage more carefully. I'm sorry for putting you through that, but it's alright, I'm here to help you now. I'll make it all better." His little chuckle sent a shiver down your spine, and not the nice kind. Your mind was torn, run or ask him to help?

Help? He just admitted he was the reason this was happening! But he was also the one offering to help. No, he was the one in the wrong here!

While you had your inner turmoil you didn't notice him undoing his pants and starting to stroke his cock, "I took some too you see. You're not alone, you'll never be alone again with me around. I'll take care of you, I'll be the best boyfriend you've ever had." Another sinister laugh left his mouth, his eyes blown wide, the crown now slightly on its side, "I've been waiting for this." Riddle used the top of his staff to spread your legs and move your panties to the side. The cold ruby pressed against your aching clit, the sound that left your body a cross between a moan and a pained whine. "Hurts right? I'll make you better love, I'll make it all better."

His cock came as sweet relief to your empty pussy, "Riddle..." You could barely think about anything, everything felt like it was too much, but his cock... it was perfect and just what you needed.

"Did you just come?" Riddle looked so happy with himself, his hips barely moving while he waited for your pussy to stop fluttering around his length. "I just put it in. You must have been suffering without my cock."

"I didn't. I didn't come." It was shameful to admit otherwise. This wasn't what you wanted to happen, how you wanted it to happen. "Not like this." You turned your face from him but your mouth still moaned when he thrust into you, "Don't... please stop moving... it's too much for me." Riddle never listened to anyone, you weren't about to change the King's mind either.

"I love you, I love dearest. Don't you see? I love you so much. After I saw you on my first party I had to get close to you, but you always hung around everyone else. You wouldn't even sit next to me!" You heard him yell before, a lot in fact, this was a different tone, broken, desperate, "Please understand. Understand how much I love you, I'm helping you realize it. Please."

What should have sounded like the unhinged ramblings of a madman wormed their way into your heard, warped your mind, made you finally look at him.

"Finally. You're looking, you're looking at me! Look down here too! See how well your pussy takes my cock? It's greedy! It wants this! You want this! You want me as much as I want you! Don't you?! Don't you, my beautiful rose?!" The warmth at the pit of your stomach returned at full force, the loud, crazy sound of his voice and the look in his eyes, burning lust and devotion reflecting your flushed face with such clarity, as well as how clouded your mind had become.

"I do love you." Riddle's face lit up with glee, the words freeing you of doubt that you weren't sure why it was there in the first place. Riddle was helping you, who are you to refuse his help? "I love you." You chuckled, "I've loved you for so long." Another laugher, a little bit louder, "Riddle."

Your back arched as far as it was able, stars dancing in front of your eyes, pussy twitching around Riddle's hard cock. "You're so tight! I'll make this one better for you! I'll make your cunt feel so good, let me fill it up." Your constant stream of pleas was only broken when you felt it, his cock emptying inside your, ropes of it painting your sensitive inner walls.

When he leaned against you to catch his breath you'd noticed the tight pressure around your wrists release. Now you were free to hold him, and he was free to hold you, now that you were fully complaint.

"Let's take you back to my castle. After today I think we should start moving your things there. And maybe inform the Principle that you'll be doing online classes only. I don't want anyone else laying their eyes or hands on you." Riddle gathered you in his arms, your body fully limp against him, pussy still pulsing with need around his cock, "There, there. You'll get more, don't you worry." He pressed a kiss to your lips, sealing his promise. The two of you began your way back through the maze, Riddle's crown forgotten where you'd just been.

[nonotnolan]

Bodily Betrayal

A collaboration with @vincentintheflesh -- He did amazing work with the photos for this piece!

"C'mon, Toby. You really aren't coming out to the bars with us?"  Matt was trying to guilt trip me for not going out on a Tuesday, and I was really starting to get sick of his shit.  Sharing an apartment with another gay guy had seemed like a really good idea at the start of the semester, but we weren't even halfway through the year and I was already regretting it.  It was fun to hang out with a party animal like Matt, but dealing with his antics 24/7 was exhausting.

"Look, I have, like... three different projects due by Friday, and if I want to keep my gym schedule I can't waste time partying or recovering from the hangover.  Maybe this weekend I can... the hell are you doing?"  Matt was patting my shoulder like he was showing me sympathy.

"You poor thing," he said, staring directly at my chest.  "He spends all that time at the gym pumping you up, and then he never does anything to show you off!  Who buys a sports car and keeps it stashed in a garage?"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes.  "You're seriously having a conversation with my body.  Stop being weird and... wait, what the fuck is happening?"  I couldn't feel my body anymore. My hands lifted themselves up to my ears, only I wasn't the one controlling my hands.  All I could do was watch as my hands planted themselves firmly onto the sides of my head, and pulled.  My head had somehow completely detached from my body!  "Matt, what the fuck did you do!?"

He just grinned at my body. "Hell yeah!  Let's ditch Toby, and I'll take you out for a great time."  My body tossed me-- my head-- onto the couch, where I landed sideways onto the cushions.  All I could do was watch in horror as Matt lifted off his own head off of his slender, tattooed body and placed it on my neck.  "Thanks for the ride, Toby! Why you don't take more advantage of this body, I'll never know."  He started groping my chest as he moaned softly to himself, and I could see my body's growing erection strain against the fabric of my shorts.

"I mean, I gotta check out what I'm packing prior to using it tonight, right?"  I tried to protest, but I was helpless to stop him from fondling my manhood.  "Damn, Toby, this is gotta be at least seven inches!" he said, stroking my own cock in front of me.  "I can't wait to pick up some twink at the bars tonight so I can test this bad boy out! I'm gonna hit up your closet and borrow one of your nice silk shirts.  Don't wait up!"

Unbelievable.  The thought of that asshole taking my body out for a joyride and getting my dick wet had me seeing red, but what could I do about it?  I was just a fucking head.  He didn't even have the decency to tilt me upright before he left.  Although... Matt did leave his body behind...  If Matt could talk to my body like it was a separate thing, maybe the reverse was also true? 

"Hey, buddy," I said, trying to get the attention of his body.  "What say we help each other out?  How about you put me on you neck and-- hey, don't walk away, asshat!"  God, even Matt's body was insufferable.  "C'mon, man, I can... what if I let you use my mouth?"  It felt gross, like I was trying to negotiate with a drunken asshole, but at least his body had turned around. I would do anything to avoid being stuck as just a head on the couch all night.  "Yeah, man. Use my mouth.  You want me to suck your nips?  Maybe give you a blowjob?  I'll even make sure to throw in a good wank session later tonight.  Just don't leave me on the couch!"

Matt's body dropped his pants to the ground and started thrusting his junk into my face.  I wanted to be mad, but I realized that he couldn't actually see what he was doing. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and eventually his body figured out where to position me so that I could give him the best blowjob. Without my shoulders getting in the way, he was able to position me a lot closer to the base of his cock. I didn't have much of a gag reflex as a detached head, which was good because I don't think Matt's body would have stopped. At least he wiped my chin off on his sweatpants after he came.

"Okay, you had some fun, so now can you-- oh thank God!" Matt's body lowered me down onto his neck, and suddenly I had control over his entire body. Honestly, my first reaction was just relief that I had arms again, but the longer I stood there, the weirder it got. Looking down and seeing Matt's tattoo sleeves was trippy as shit, and his body barely had any muscle definition. Credit where credit was due, his skin was much softer than mine. The man was lanky as hell, but I couldn't deny that he took care of himself in his own way.

I looked at my temporary body in the living room mirror, testing the firmness of my new ass with a few squeezes. I had a sudden impulse to try and protect what remained of Matt's modesty, but fuck that. For one, I'd already had his dick in my mouth thanks to how horny his body had been. But mostly it came down the fact that Matt clearly had no qualms about getting my body naked as soon as he could, so I might as well repay the favor. I pulled down the waistband of his sweatpants to see an average five inches of uncut cock. Perfectly serviceable, but it explained why he was so enamored with mine.

Was Matt's body going to get bored with me and pull off my head the same way my own body had? I didn't want to risk it. I decided to talk out loud as I looked at my new body in the mirror. "Don't worry, you tattooed fuck, we'll definitely spend some time messing around. I can't exactly wear someone else's body and not test it out! Especially when I know that fucker's doing the same to mine. I bet he-- oh, fuck!" My fingers brushed over my nipples and I could feel that shiver travel down through the root of my cock. "Is it ready for round two already?" I gave my stiffening cock a few tugs. God damn that felt good!

Was his body that much more sensitive than mine, or were the new sensations just more intense for me? I brushed the head of my new cock and damn near collapsed to the floor when my knees buckled. "I don't care why it feels good, it's enough that it does!" I started stroking it with one hand while my other hand pinched my nipples. Did I know where Matt kept his lube? Honestly, his dick was leaking enough precum that I didn't need it. 

Normally I would have found the thought of jacking off in front of a mirror to be a total boner kill, but seeing my head on Matt's slender body was actually kind of hot. I started picking up speed, jerking it faster and harder until suddenly my hand shot off and slammed into the mirror.  "Ow, fuck," I yelled, cursing Matt's boney wrists.  "How the hell did I lose grip on his... oh."  I hadn't lost my grip-- his cock had completely detached from his body.  I couldn't help but laugh as I considered all of the possibilities.  Obviously I was going to be giving myself a blowjob, but I had a few other ideas in mind.

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

"Hey Toby, sorry for leaving your head on the couch all night," Matt said, finally coming up at 8:50 in the morning. He hadn't even bothered to get fully dressed after spending the night doing God knows what in my body. I assumed he left my good shirt in the car-- If he lost it to some random guy's apartment, I was going to be so pissed. If I was starting to feel a bit guilty about my plan, this just confirmed my resolve to go through with it.

I didn't want Matt to get suspicious, so I had his body put me back on the couch after I'd had my fun last night.  "You missed a good time last night," he said, rubbing his hands across my abs. "I met this absolute power bottom of a twink, and we... well, you and I both know exactly what the two of us did all night. I made sure to use a condom, don't worry.  Anyway, it's time to switch back."  He grabbed the top of his head firmly by the hair and yanked hard, pulling it off of my neck. Seeing him walk across the room like a headless horseman was unsettling, to say the least.

"I'm surprised you're giving my body back to me so soon," I said, glaring at him as he passed his head over to his body's outstretched hands.  Once his head was back in place, he reached down to deal with me.  I wanted so badly to slap the smug grin off his face, but I just needed to be patient.

He laughed at me, giving my nose a few honks before giving me my body back.  "Sadly, I think people would notice if my shoulders were suddenly twice the size as my old ones.  Besides, I know exactly how much time you spend in the gym to have a body this nice.  Nuts to that-- I'll just let you do the work for me!" I couldn't help but growl at that comment, and he responded by flicking my ear. "Easy, now. You can yell at me later-- I don't want to be late for class."

Once my head was back in place, I couldn't help but grab my pecs with both hands. I had missed this.  Feeling the massive slabs of meat under my fingers was so comforting.  I gave my pits a few quick sniffs.  I probably needed a shower after everything Matt had done in my body, but a quick spritz of cologne would have to do.  He was right-- we didn't have much time before class.

I looked over at him to see if he had noticed my revenge yet.  Based on the way he was palming his crotch, I think he had.  "Toby, where the fuck is my cock!?"  I had hidden his manhood in my sock drawer, not that I was gonna be telling him that anytime soon.  The fucker owed me.  Twelve hours of being dickless seemed like a good start.

I smiled back at him.  "You can yell at me later-- I don't want to be late for class."

[ollyissleppy]

summary: as the first snow had fallen upon Linkon, you decide to build a snowman! And of course you had to bring your boyfriend along! Building a snowman alone isn't as fun as when you're with company! a/n: I'm so exited for this project!

series masterlist

"Hey! Don't fall asleep now!" you threw a snowball at his head.

You couldn't believe he was able to fall asleep on what now is remains of your almost-made snowman. Xavier had to be really comfortable, because the snowball didn't wake him up. He didn't even move when it hit him, he remained just laying there.

You were about to make another snowball to throw, when you came up with a better idea. You gather up some snow and started your creation. You started adding more and more snow around Xavier's body in attempt in making him into your very own snow-boyfriend.

You were about to start working on adding snow to Xavier's head, when he started to move. Soon, he opened his eyes, looking up at you

"What are you doing?" Xavier asks, trying to move before you stop him.

"Don't move! You'll destroy my creation!" you try your best to stop your boyfriend from moving. Xavier doesn't listen and gets up from his spot on top of your almost-snowman.

"Noooo" you fall to your knees dramatically. The remains of the snow that you put on Xavier scattered around you two.

"Sorry, we can build another one" he bends down to be able to look in your eyes. "This time I won't fall asleep on it" Xavier smiles and you smile back.

(the snowman turned out pretty btw)

"You know, if you'd let me use my evol we would be done by now" Zayne sets out small snowflakes out of his hands, ready to form the in a proper snowman at any point.

"Maybe, but that's no fun!" you say, adding more snow to your snowman's face.

"yeah, I'll remind you of the fun you had tomorrow when you'll be fighting a fever" "At least wrap your scarf properly and but some gloves on" Zayne tries to give you his own gloves, but you ignore him, too focused on making the perfect ball.

"I will not! I don't get sick easily!" You smile at him, your hands still working on snowman's face.

You don't notice the tingling feeling in your fingers, the kind that comes when you play too long in the snow without the proper protection on them. Zayne on the other hand does.

"Here put those on and I'll fix up it's face" he says as he hands you his gloves. You don't protest, the cold of the snow finally catching up to you with your hands so numb you can barely move them.

You watch Zayne putting up finishing touches to snowman's face. Once he was finished, Zayne stands by your side. You both admire your creation for a bit with you not being able to shake of the feeling that something is missing. It finally hits what what that could be. You take Zayne's hat straight from his head and put it on the snowman.

"Now he's perfect."\

(you ended up with a fever the next day, Zayne just sighed)

Rafayel stand in the distance, covered in warm clothes from head to toe, thick scarf around his neck, wooly beanie on top of his head and a pair of warm gloves to finish of his outfit. "This is some kind of torture, y'know?"

"We should head back before I die out here from hypothermia" Rafayel shivers, looking around hoping something would come to his

"And if you would stop complaining and help me, we would be at home now"

"Fine" Rafayel hufs, stepping closer to you.

You start to get exited, your boyfriend will actually help you with the snowman. You weren't aware that Rafayel had other plans in 'helping' you.

"RAFAYEL NO!" you yell, but it's too late. Rafayel uses his evol to melt the snowman.

You blankly stare at now what is only a puddle in a place just a moment ago was your almost done snowman.

"Now that we're done here, let's go home" Rafayel says, grabbing your hand.

"No, we're not leaving until we make a snowman" you explain, once again gathering snow to start again. Once you start forming another ball, you look up at Rafayel.

"You helping or not?"

(he ended up actually helping, but you had to listen to his whines for days after that)

also it's like really short bc this part got deleted and I had to rewrite it last minute :(

"Don't stand around like that!" You yell at Sylus, who's just standing a few meters behind you.

"Yeah! Come help us, boss!" Kieran says, bending down to help Luke lift snowman's torso.

"Yeah, no" Sylus says, staring at the sight in front of him, judging.

"You're no fun" The twins help you lift snowman's head up to it's rightful place.

The three of you start adding the face and accessories to your snowman. When it's time to put it's hat on, Kieran and Luke allow you to do the honours. You tried your best on trying to up it on. However, the snowman turned out just a bit taller that what you can reach. Sylus sees you struggling with the hat so he decides to help you.

"There" Sylus effortlessly lifts you up, allowing you to place the hat on snowman's head. Once you're done, he puts you down on the ground, twins cheering in the background at the finished snowman.\

"Thank you, Sylus" you say, kissing the man on his cheek.

('maybe it isn't so bad' Sylus, probably)

taglist: @iloveboysinred @leighsartworks216 @faeryminnyx @bellagrayson-wayne

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[the-fiction-witch]

Comfort

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Nadyana / Nadi (Betrothal) Rating - 18 + kissing/ nudity/ handjobs/ orgasms Word Count - 2985

Jacaerys groaned as he slowly regained consciousness, feeling groggy and sick to his stomach. The pounding in his head made it hard to focus, and he could still taste the saltwater from the battle. He remembered the chaos of the fight, the clash of swords, and the screams of the injured. After the battle was won, he almost fell head-first into the sea with a bleeding head and various other injuries. He could still feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he fought to stay afloat.

But now, he found himself in his chambers, the soft glow of the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. His wounds were bandaged, and the pain had dulled to a persistent ache. As he struggled to sit up, he noticed a maiden sitting by his side, her eyes filled with concern.

"Shh don't sit up my Prince." Nadyana cooed stopping him from sitting up in the bed "You need to rest Prince Jacaerys"

Jacaerys blinked a few times to get the blur out of his vision. His mouth was dry and sore. He swallowed and his head pounded. But as he looked at the face of the maiden, he saw his betrothed “... Nadi?” He croaked out, his voice coming out weak, and raspy

"you need to rest Jacaerys." She cooed,

He tried to get up once more but his body was heavy and weak from his wounds. He relented grumbling as he sunk back into the pillows. He gave her a weak scowl. “How long have I been out?” he asked, trying to wet his dry mouth

"a couple of days, no more." She cooed fetching some water and bringing the goblet to his lips

he took a slow, and large gulp from the water. He relished the feel of the cool water going down his dry throat, and let out a satisfied sigh at the end of it, “... I feel like dragon shite.” He said,

"I can imagine so," she chuckled, "You had a very nasty cut on your head, a few bruises fingers, cuts and bruises all over your ribs, and an almost broken nose." She explained

he groaned at the thought of such a list. Though it made sense given how his body felt. He was glad to be alive, and glad it wasn't worse “Fuck… it'll take a fortnight to recover fully” he mumbled, shifting in the bed

"Indeed it will. You're going to be on bed rest for two weeks at minimum."

he groaned in frustration. The idea of being stuck on bed rest for two weeks, or even more was not a pleasant thought.

Nadi rolled her eyes "I know, I know. But you need to rest."

he grumbled under his breath. Knowing she was right. But that didn't make him any happier

I'm stuck here, with nothing to entertain me for two weeks. I'll go mad

"you'll have books, letters, and all sorts to do" she cooed checking on his bandages "Please Jacaerys, for me?"

he could feel his resolve crack as she used those puppy eyes on him, knowing he couldn't refuse a look like that. He was a weak man at times like these “.. fine. I will. But only for you.” he said begrudgingly

she smiled and kissed his tender temple "Thank you."

he smiled and closed his eyes. The brief gesture was a soothing comfort in his discomfort. His eyes flicked back open, and he gave her a cheeky look “Will you be my nurse for those two weeks?”

"of course, I will. I'll be here by your side until you’re better,"

his heart fluttered in his chest, and a warm feeling entered his body. To know the woman he loved would be by his side for two weeks, tending to him, and taking care of him, filled him with both happiness and something... else “You will stay by my side the entire time?” he asked again to be sure. He wanted her close, not leaving if not necessary

"of course." She nodded "I'll be here as long as you want. And for whatever my sweet Prince requires. So? What would you like?"

he thought about it for a moment. And a small sly grin appeared on his face. A light blush crept on his cheeks as an idea came to mind. One that was perhaps scandalous and taboo “Well… there is something” he said slowly.

"oh?" She raised an eyebrow

he looked into her eyes, feeling his cheek heat up in embarrassment. He shifted in the bed, and gave her a smirk “... I won't ask this of you. But.. if you're willing…” he trailed of again. Aching for her to say yes. The idea of her saying no also made him feel a bit giddy he swallowed thickly before continuing “I was hoping... That you would share the bed with me…” his heart was racing, and he felt both anxious, and excited. He saw her raise her eyebrow, and he quickly tried to explain himself “It's not some.. perverted reason. I'm feeling weak and sore. And having you next to me.. would help me heal quicker. It would comfort me..”

she scoffed and playfully rolled her eyes "We are not yet married my Prince. If someone found us in bed together it would be quite the scandal" she teased, and he sighed "But... As you're so weak. I suppose I could let you lay beside me. Perhaps even lay your wounded little head in my lap?"

He chuckled and leaned back against the pillows. He tried a dramatic, wounded puppy look “Ah but I'm so frail, and weak my love. I desperately need a lap to rest my head on. And what better lap than my beautiful betrothed?”

"aww my poor little Jacaerys." She cooed hitching her dress and crawling into the bed settling herself with the pillow, and tapping her thigh "Come on then you want to lay on my dress or just my stocking?"

he felt his heart race at her words and the sight of her lifting her dress to get in the bed. He swallowed, trying not to drool at the sight of her stockings, or the idea of laying his head on that soft, bare skin “.. stockings please.” he mumbled as he scooted himself closer to her. And lowered his aching head to her thigh

she nodded and hitched her dress enough that her woollen stockings were visible. She smiled and guided his head down into her lap laying his head against the wool stockings. She gently tucked the covers around him and tucked him in. Before running her fingers through his curls,

he couldn't help but moan deeply at the feeling of the softness of her legs, and the touch of her fingers running through his hair. He snuggled himself up, making himself nice and warm, and comfortable as he laid his head on her lap. He closed his eyes, enjoying the soothing feeling of her “I knew this was a good idea... I'm already feeling better..”

"I'm glad" she cooed

he smiled, enjoying the feeling of having his head in her lap. Though his mind began to wander, as thoughts of something different came to mind. Something that could be even more relaxing, for the both of them. He looked up into her eyes, and smiled once again “... Do you think you are willing to do slightly more? Something that may help heal me even quicker?”

"oh? And what is that my Prince?" She cooed

he chuckled, a devious look spreading over his face. He gave her a cheeky look, and placed a hand on her thigh, squeezing it slightly, as he spoke “I have an.. aching, in my lower half. And I was wondering... If you could. relieve, the pain?”

"oh? My poor little Jacaerys. We don't want you to be in pain now do we?" She teased him leaning down to kiss his bruised nose. Before her hand stroked his stomach "How’s that?"

he shivered as her hand trailed over his bare torso, sending sparks of tingles over his body. He tried to maintain his composure, but a faint gasp escaped his lips “.. closer to where it aches.” he said, the hand on her thigh gripping the soft skin tighter

"and where does it ache my darling?'

he looked up at her, a growing need in his eyes. He took a breath before he spoke “.. Right here” he said as he took her free hand, and slowly guided it lower, down to his hard bulge. It was only a light brush, but the small feeling was enough to make him gasp,

she chuckled and smiled down at him "humm... Alright as you’re so weak and sick and injured I suppose we can relax a little tension." She cooed starting her slow work palming him though his britches,

he groaned, the light touch already bringing relief and pleasure to him. The need he had been feeling grew even more. He placed his hand over hers, and gently pressed it against his cock “That.. that's perfect... “ he whispered, eyes closing as he gently moaned but was cut off as a shiver of pleasure shot through his body. He opened his eyes again, needing to look at the beautiful sight of her above him, and he smiled “.. Keep going, please”

"of course Jacaerys." She cooed making sure to play with his hair and keep him as relaxed as possible as she worked

he groaned, arching his back a little as her touch continued to work and pleasure him. He let his eyes close again, and his breathing got a little heavier as she worked. One of his hands gripped her hand a bit tighter, squeezing it. he needed her closer. He couldn't bear being apart from her any longer. The desire and need, for her grew. He started gripping at her thighs, trying to pull her onto him “.. please.. get closer.. I want to feel you..”

she smiled and guided his bruised body so his head rested on her chest, his nose squarely in her cleavage, his arms free to wrap around her waist, his body fully pressed against her, she moved her hand under his britches and began to stroke his cock more firmly as she kissed his forehead "This close enough my Prince?"

It sent a new wave of tingles through his body as he snuggled up to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter to him. His bare skin pressed against her soft and smooth skin. He nestled his face closer to her chest, and spoke, his voice slightly muffled “Not close enough..” he lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. He took in her beauty and the feel of her body against his. His hand slowly traced up her side, to her face, before his fingers delicately toyed with the straps of her dress “Take this off... Please... I need to feel you against me, without any barriers..”

she softly Giggled "Jacaerys we can't. We aren't married yet, a fact you seem to regularly forget”

he groaned like a wounded puppy, as he had just been denied his sweet. He looked up at her with a pout, and a pleading expression “Please.. I need it. I need to feel your body against mine. I don't care that we aren't married yet... Just a few minutes.. I'll be gentle I swear…” he said in a needy tone, as his hand continued to toy and pull at her straps

"Jacaerys!" She laughed stilling his hands "We can't, I know you're wounded, I know you’re in the mood and I'm happy to help you feel better but we can't. At least not until we're married."

he knew she was right. But his mind was so clouded by lust and want, and the feel of her body against his wasn't helping. His heart ached at having to deny himself. He relented though, though the disappointment was clear on his face. He sighed “.... I know... I know... Your right..” he mumbled before resting his head back on her chest. Though he nuzzled his face closer to her chest

she softly smiled stroking his hair "I know it's hard my darling, I can imagine it's a terrible feeling. And I promise you I feel such frustrations as well. Of course, I want to strip down and climb into bed cuddled in your arms all day and night. But we must wait, save such things for our honeymoon." She cooed

he closed his eyes as she stroked his hair, and he listened to her soothing voice. The need and want were still there, but her soft words and touch were helping to soothe his burning lusts. At her mention of their future honeymoon though, his desire flared up once again. He let out a deep sigh at the thought of what fun that would be “... I can't wait for our honeymoon…”

"I can't either." She smiled kissing his forehead "Now, do you still want my help?"

he smiled at the tender kiss, before nodding. Despite having to hold back his own lust for her, he still wanted to finish what she started. It was the least he could get in his current state “.. I do... please…”

"of course Jacaerys." Nadi smiled as she continued moving her hand. The other soothing his hair and pressing kisses to his head "Just relax and enjoy it my darling"

he leaned against her, resting his head against her chest. He closed his eyes as her touches sent small sparks of pleasure through his body. Her other hand soothing through his hair, was also doing wonders to make him feel relaxed and satisfied. He nuzzled his face against her bare skin, inhaling her sweet scent “Mmmm... I could get used to the feeling of your hands on me...”

"I'm sure you will, once we're wed."

he hummed in agreement, and was about to speak again, but a soft gasp escaped his lips as her hand worked particularly well. He gripped her thigh a bit tighter, pulling her closer to him. He was losing his will power, and it was difficult to hold himself back from just ripping that dress off of her “.. you... are making it hard... To hold back..”

"shh shh shh just relax" she cooed

he closed his eyes and tried to relax, though it was difficult with the pleasure she was bringing him. He groaned, nuzzling his head against her chest. The desire for her was making his mind race, and his need to see her naked body was growing

Nadyana smiled feeling his tension and how soon this would be over. She giggled and bought her time making sure to work as well as possible and just as she knew he came she pressed her lips to his kissing him on the lips for the first time in their engagement

he moaned into the kiss as a wave of pleasure shot through him. He groaned as the kiss continued, enjoying the feel of her soft lips against his. The peak was a very intense experience, and one he wished he could make last longer, but his body felt drained and his mind was foggy. The kiss continued for a few minutes, before he pulled away, looking at her with a blissful expression, and a smile across his face “That... was... incredible…”

"You’re welcome my prince" she cooed guiding his wounded body back down on the bed tucking him in and licking her fingers

he watched her as she laid him down, and pulled the covers over him. The sight of her licking her fingers made him blush. He gave her a cheeky smile, and chuckled “.. You can bet I'll need your help again very soon..”

"I have no doubts you will" she chuckled giving his lips a tender kiss

he chuckled along with her, and closed his eyes as her soft lips, touched his own once again. He savoured the feeling of her lips, before he spoke “One day... I’ll be well again, and I'll be able to return the favour..”

"Not until we're wed."

he frowned. “.. fine.. not until we're wed Nadi…”

"It's not that long," Nadyana laughed, "as soon as you're well again and your strength is better we'll get married,"

he sighed as she mentioned the wedding and how it was only a little while until the day finally arrived. “.. I hope I'm well enough by then.. to.. uh... perform when we're wed..”

"well, that's why you need to rest, so you can get well again." She smiled "Can't have you too sick to ride to our wedding. But if you are a little tired still by our wedding night I suppose I'll have to do the riding" She softly kissed his cheek, "Now I'll be back with some soup," she smiled jumping off the bed and fixing her dress

he had to hold back a groan as she mentioned having to ride on their wedding night, which made his mind race to imagine her and her thighs. He chuckled a bit to himself, and watched as she got off the bed “.. please hurry back... I'm feeling a little weak and in need of some more.. Comfort” he mumbled, though he was just being clingy and didn't want her leaving

"I'm sure you'll be fine for a few minutes Jacaerys" she laughed "Just to tide you over" she teased secretly unlacing her gown, turning to face him and taking a few backwards steps as she pulled open the top of her gown flashing him her breasts before she fixed it and bolted off to the kitchens

he was about to protest and ask her to stay. That he needed her. That he was weak. However the sight of her unbuttoning the top of her gown, and flashing him her bare breasts, silenced him, and he was left shocked and speechless as she bolted off, leaving the room. His mouth had fallen open, and a large grin was plastered across his face “..... oh you're a cruel tease…” he growled, “I love you nadi!”

“Love you too Jace!” she called back, 

[psychoticallykind]

Mental Gymnastics

"Forever" - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 1,177 words

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

Regulus knew better. He really did. Alcohol was fine, until it wasn't. Because alcohol took down all of those pesky barriers.

Alcohol made him feel things.

"So, I called James."

"What? No!" Regulus looked up at Remus with panicked eyes. "You can't!"

Remus sat down in front of him. "Okay. They'll be here soon."

"No, no - call them back, tell them that I'm having fun and they can't come!" Regulus insisted, hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

"Reg, you're crying on the ground outside of the club."

Regulus nodded. "And it's fun."

Remus gave him a look that meant 'you're lying to me'. Regulus ignored it.

"Chocolate?"

"No." Regulus snatched the chocolate bar. "I don't want chocolate, you traitor. You can't just go around calling people!"

Remus leaned forward, taking the chocolate away and ignoring Regulus's whine of protest as he opened it before handing it back. "That's what a phone is for, isn't it?"

"That's what a phone is for, isn't it?" Regulus mimicked. "You don't deserve a phone."

"Are we being mean to Remus, love?"

Oh, no. Regulus tucked his head down into his knees. "Go away."

"You can't be mean to Moony, Reggie -"

"It's okay, Sirius. Hey, no. Look at me. Let's go inside, James has him now."

Someone warm settled next to him. Someone named James who was not supposed to be here.

"Are you feeling sick?"

Regulus shook his head. "No. I'm having fun here, go home."

"Will you come with me?"

Regulus sniffled. "I don't deserve to come with you."

"I promise that you do." James nudged his shoulder. "You deserve the world, love. Anything you want."

"I want James," Regulus admitted.

James hummed their amused hum. "I'm right here. You have me." Another gentle nudge. "You have me forever."

Regulus bit his lip to keep the sounds in.

"Will you tell me what happened?" James asked. "Did I do something? I'll fix it if you tell me."

"You can't fix it," Regulus informed them. "Because I broke it."

"Can I touch you? I want to move you a bit."

Regulus shrugged. "Fine." They may as well touch him now, before they broke up with him.

Warm arms moved around him - under his knees, behind his back - and then he was in James's lap, leaning against their chest, surrounded by sunshine.

It was the perfect place.

Regulus burst into tears again.

"Oh, love." James held him tight, rubbing slowly up and down his back. "It's okay. You'll be okay."

And Regulus did not agree with that, because he'd done a very bad thing and James just didn't know it yet. But he sobbed into James's shirt anyway, and he let James hold him together, and he didn't say it.

He fell asleep, and he didn't say it.

****** ****** ******

Regulus knew it would come up. He'd known, all morning. When he woke up feeling dreadful, he'd known. When James had made him breakfast, he'd known. When he'd taken a shower, he'd known.

That didn't mean he didn't absolutely hate the fact that it was going to come up.

"We should talk about it."

Regulus gave James a sweet smile. "Talk about what?"

James sighed, wrapping their arms around him. "Talk about why I found you crying outside last night."

Ugh. Regulus leaned into James, stalling. "I'm better now, though."

James pressed gentle kisses to his neck. "Regulus."

"I broke three mugs yesterday."

That could have been it. He could stop there.

But there was more, and they were supposed to be working on communicating, and he knew that he'd only feel awful about it until he actually told James what had happened.

So Regulus took a deep breath. And he grabbed one of James's hands, anxiously fiddling with it as he spoke. "I broke a vase once when I was little. Like, this really expensive, crystal vase. And my mother freaked out on me, and told me that she'd trusted me around her things, and when I broke that vase, I also broke her trust."

"And yesterday, I was trying to reach a glass, and I knocked three of the mugs to the floor and they all shattered. And I know it's fine," Regulus continued, blinking hard to clear his vision. "I know it's fine. I cleaned it up, and I planned on replacing them today, and there's really no reason you would have actually noticed."

James doesn't say anything yet, and he's grateful. They both know that if James interrupts him, he won't be able to do this.

"But then I remembered that stupid vase," Regulus admits. "And then replacing them felt like this huge secret, like I was lying to you. And then I was just convinced that I was lying to you, and that if I was lying that must mean that subconsciously, I knew that mother had been right. You trusted me around your things, and I broke them, and I broke your trust in me, and that kind of snowballed into thinking about how you told me that love without trust isn't enough, and so you were going to break up with me and I'd ruined everything."

"So...yeah." Regulus shrugged, gripping James's hand so tightly it had to hurt. "Super fun mental gymnastics last night."

James shifts, moving so that they're facing each other. "Breaking the cups was a mistake. I'm never going to be upset with you for making a mistake."

Regulus can't meet their eyes. "I know."

"Reg, love." James brings a hand to his chin, gently urging Regulus to look up. "It's okay to make mistakes."

"I -" His voice catches as he meets warm hazel eyes, and he sighs. "You really like those mugs."

"I like you more." James kissed the back of his hand. "So much more. I adore you."

Regulus bit down on his smile. "James."

"I'm in love with you, I'm obsessed with you," James continued, watching Regulu's smile grow with every word. They lifted their free hand to trace over his cheek, touching him reverently. "You're everything to me."

He couldn't stop himself from leaning into the touch. And maybe he felt a little anxious when he met James's eyes, but he also felt grateful. Because he could ask this - because he could ask these things, and he was safe here. "Are you sure you're not upset with me? Or disappointed or something?"

"I'm not upset with you." James leaned forward, their hand moving to the back of Regulus's neck, gently moving him forward. "I'm not upset about the mugs. You didn't break anything important, and I trust you more than anyone else in the world." Their lips brushed his, not a proper kiss yet, and Regulus's eyes fluttered closed. "I love you, and I trust you, and I am so proud of you right now."

Regulus made a sound at those words - something small and vulnerable he only ever was with James - but it was okay, because then James was kissing him, and he was back on familiar territory here.

Back with James, where he was supposed to be.

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 4

Different

The next time you saw Robin was while you, Joker, and Harley were robbing Gotham City Bank.

These were your least favorite kinds of missions. Banks had a certain time limit for their silent alarms, which means limited fanfare. Limited fun. Boring. Thank god the Bat showed up, otherwise today would've been a total snooze fest.

You fiddled with a grenade in the back seat of Joker's convertible. He swerved through the streets haphazardly, Harley shooting behind you at the batmobile. You glanced back but couldn't catch a glimpse of bat nor bird through the tinted windshield. You tossed the grenade over your shoulder. The blast sounded behind you, but the armored vehicle never let up it's relentless pursuit.

A grappling hook shot out from the front of the batmobile. It pierced a tire, Joker's car skidding to an abrupt stop. Once the ground stopped moving you readied yourself to sprint. Before you could however a hand grabbed you by the shoulder. You swung your elbow back with force. The assailant dodged, spinning you around in the process.

Robin.

"Hey, Boy Wonder! Fancy meeting you here."

"In a car chase? Pretty standard for you."

The boy froze. You could feel his eyes scanning you head to toe.

"You look... different."

You picked up one of your braids with a twirl. "All natural now, baby!"

"W- How?"

"Took a nice, long chemical bath."

"What? Why did- did Joker-"

"Relax, baby bird. It's family tradition."

"Some family." He grumbled.

Now that struck a nerve.

"At least my family doesn't make me dress up like a weak, little bird."

"Better than actually being weak and little."

You swung a fist. Similar to before, he blocked it. Unlike before, he didn't block the butt of your gun. Robin stumbled backwards with a newly split eyebrow.

"Seriously?!"

"Deadly."

He swept your legs, which you narrowly avoided with a quick jump. In one fell swoop you kicked him in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground with a grunt. He recovered in time to kick you up and over himself. You rolled to a stop, rising to your feet, fists up and ready for a fight. In the blink of an eye Robin matched your posture.

A punch flew past your head, you weaved out of the way before the second could land. "You shouldn't have taught me how to fight."

The boy smirked. "Didn't teach you everything."

Suddenly your world was turned upside down. Literally. Before you could even process what had happened you were handcuffed and slung over the boy's shoulder.

"Wha-"

"And back to the batmobile we go."

"Put me down!"

"I will. In a restrained chair."

"You dick!"

"Jason actually."

"... Huh?"

"Nothing. Inside joke."

Robin stared at you in silence. Batman was still attempting to track down Joker's route, which left you two sitting silently in the batmobile.

"... You look sick."

"Really? That's your opening line after ten minutes of nothing? You really know how to charm a girl."

"I'm serious. Your skin is pale. And your hair is... well..."

"Green?"

"Yeah."

"It was like that when we met!"

"You know what I mean! You used to be you and now you're just... Joker Jr."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Probably 'cause it is."

"To you maybe."

"Why... How can you be loyal to someone so evil?"

"How can you be loyal to someone so cold?"

He opened his mouth only to close it. "It's a long story."

"Ditto."

Another wave of silence overtook you two. You watched the boy adjust his gloves almost anxiously.

"You think one day we'll be them?"

"Who?"

"Joker and Batman. You think when they're old and retired we'll be the next them?"

"Never thought about it... I hope not."

"How come?"

"I want a rival that can actually rival me."

"Fuck off."

"I mean it. You keep learning to fight - and not just from me - then maybe I'll let you be my Joker."

"Your Jinx."

"My Jinx."

"And you learn how to have some fun and maybe I'll let you be my Batman."

"Isn't your idea of fun blowing up buildings?"

"Yup!"

"Well that's not gonna happen."

"Such a party pooper. You already are Batman."

The boy smiled at this.

"Batman and Jinx."

"Jinx and Batman."

"We'll work on it."

[medicinemane]

There's honestly... just so many people, just so so so so so many people in this world where I'm like... aren't you people tired of this fucking... you know, I was going to call them clowns but that's really disrespectful to clowns, these people could never get their face on an egg...

Anyway, aren't you tired of this childish jackass? Don't you just want to ignore them and never have to hear about them again? If we just ignored them they legitimately would go away... don't you want that?

And this applies to... just ungodly amounts of people, from jake paul to even elon musk (just... don't touch his shit, he'll run out of money eventually with how bad he is with it), to just... name an annoying famous person and you'll name someone I've literally forgotten right now that I could never have to hear about again if people would just ignore them (unless they committed crimes, investigators are welcome to pay attention while gathering a case)

Yet the answer's always "no, we're paying so much attention to them!" and I'm just like... why? Why would you watch jake paul box? I heard about that and was like "he's still doing that shit?", and yet I guess it made a lot of money yet again and it's just like... ignore him

These people could go away, and yet

[norashelley]

15 questions, 15 people

Tagged by @nitrateglow thank you! <3

Nickname: I don't really have one, rosey or roro various times in my life but that's not very exciting.

Sign: refused.

Height: 5′4/163cm

Last Thing I Googled: local weather forecast, boring haha

Song Stuck in My Head: Everybody Loves a Lover, Doris Day, and I idk why it suddenly got in there but it's there.

Amount of Sleep: sleep is a struggle and sporadic so it's hard to say, could be anywhere from 5 to 12 hrs tbh.

Dream Job: Food taster/reviewer!

Wearing: cream colored flannel PJ set with large red sketchy flower print, my dad got them for me last christmas & they're so cozy & comfy I love them.

Movies/books That Summarize You: Movies-- Stage Door, One More Spring, Brave, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Now, Voyager Books-- When Marnie Was There, The Blue Castle, Anne of Green Gables, Goodbye Tsugumi, The Traveling Cat Chronicles.

Favorite Song: for real though who has a singular favorite song? that sounds impossible.

Instrument: well I can't play any anymore but I played piano & a little harp & clarinet as a kid. But if we're talking about favorite instruments I love stringed instruments the most!

Aesthetic: soft, flowy, floral, vintage, natural

Favorite Author: I don't really have any current ones but I love all the ones I feel nostalgic about still, like Astrid Lindgren, Frances Hodgson Burnett, Louise May Alcott, Charles Dickens and Lois Lenski.

Random Fun Fact: I have very clear distinct memories of the first few years of my life, and remember daily life, events, my thoughts & feelings much better from then than I remember the past few years even.

I’ll tag: @ladyoftheharbour @grusinskayas @chantalstacys @jwclapton @screenclassics @picklesandolives @joanleslies @maureenoharra @ritahayworrth @valancystirling48 @baldwinpdf @lilbabylovergirl @blackthornfaery @classic-flicks-chick @oldhollywoodholla and if you want to do this please say I tagged you so I can read your answers!

[bi-writes]

Okay but MOB sitting on Simon's lap, cuddling as they watch some movie Simon picked out because it was his turn. At one point she gets up and he thinks she's just going to use the restroom, hands on her hips to help stabilize her. Only instead of leaving, she turns around and sits on her knees between his legs. She bats her eyes at him but otherwise just soaking in how pretty he is. He probably makes a joke, says he loves her and when he still doesn't move figures she just wants a moment and continues to watch the screen.

When she finally works herself up to it, she starts sliding her hands up and down his thighs and just the sensation and imagery alone has him hard and he can't bring himself to ask her to stop when it feels so nice. Eventually her hands wander up further and she begins to play with the button of his jeans. Still not stopping her, even as she unbuttons and zips them down to pull out his erection. When he finally looks down, she stops and stares innocently up at him.

As soon as his attention's somewhat back up on the screen, she repositions herself and licks a stripe up his dick to bring his head into her mouth to swirl around. He doesn't even last that long and she doesn't let him pull her off when he comes.

Or something like that...

mail-order bride (18+)

simon likes action movies. they're his favorite, by far. he likes to watch the over-the-top car races in the middle of metropolitan cities, he likes big, stupid explosions and when the protagonist has their enemy at the end of their gun and says something cheesy like "you're not going anywhere now."

he told you once that he likes the simplicity. the happy endings. the key recovered, a family saved, the epic conclusion of an explosive journey that always ends in the bad guy in handcuffs and the good guy on a beach sipping a mai tai, getting the girl, saving the world.

you think maybe he likes it because it dampens reality. you have seen the aftermath of an op gone wrong; in this way, simon can fantasize just a little. he can pretend that there is nothing wrong with the world for 90 minutes or so.

what's so wrong with that?

he's so pretty.

he ran errands for you today. came back from the store with a paper bag in his hands, setting it down on the counter and unpacking it. you were sat at the kitchen counter, the orange cat wrapped up completely in a burrito of a towel so you could cut her dagger-like claws without risk of retaliation. simon was watching carefully out of the corner of his eye, but as he unpacked the bag, you had all but melted in your chair.

a refill of your favorite makeup remover (you were going to run out tonight, guaranteed). vitamins (ya look right sick, baby, drink y'r juice). your favorite brand of pads (just tell me which ones, i'll get it right, promise). sour sweets (cherry-flavored, of course, sour because he likes the face you make when you pop them into your mouth). when the last box hit the counter, you had dropped the cat, much to her relief.

condoms. fucking condoms.

no, he's not pretty. simon is so fucking hot.

he doesn't budge when you get up to put the empty popcorn bowl into the sink. when you come back in the room, simon is still staring at the television, eyes trained on the spy on screen hopping between rooftops as they dodge bullets. you bite your lip watching him, unable to stop thinking about simon, simon, simon.

he's wearing nice jeans. straight jeans, but even the extra give doesn't matter when your husband is made of pure muscle and fat. you can see his stomach through his shirt since it's tucked in, white fabric showing off that nice pudge that you love laying your head on, your palm, knowing how solid and strong he most certainly is. nghghhhh, and his arms--big, bulging, tattooed, a perfect canvas for colorful markers or glitter or maybe your tongue.

it's subconscious, really. the carpet is soft under your knees as you kneel at his feet, lowering yourself so you can blink up at him big and wide as he keeps his eyes on the movie. he does notice you, however; his big hand slides down his thigh, and your eyes flutter a little when he passes it over your head then down your face, a pretty little pet between his legs.

"not supposed to be on y'r knees f'me, baby," simon mutters, but you can't answer because his thumb slips into your mouth. you wrap your lips around it absentmindedly, running your tongue over the thick pad of it. "tha's my job."

you sit up on your knees, leaning over him, and he gives you his attention finally, a twitch of a smile as he bends his neck a little and kisses you warmly. you steady yourself by putting your hands on his thighs, gripping the meat of them firm as you slip your tongue into his mouth and draw a low grunt from deep within his chest.

"always working for me, simon," you whisper between kisses. "always..."

fuck, the blood rushes to his cock almost immediately. he has such a soft spot for you. taking care of you, doing things for you, buying you what you need--it makes him so fucking hard thinking about fulfilling every need of yours. you deserve nothing but nice dreams, good meals, happy cats, a well-loved pussy, all the love his broken heart can give. he chubs up in his pants every time you ask him for something.

can you carry this for me, simon?

oh, i need some help with this, baby, just here...

can you get me more of this? i'm about to run out.

the zipper is stuck, simon...can you get me out of this?

ugh, you're his walking wet dream. and you're kneeling in between his legs, his sweet girl pouting up at him, and--oh, fuck--

your hands are soft under his shirt. you've untucked it just enough, your warm fingers sliding along the band of his jeans. he hisses a little, his body stiffening, and you smooth a thumb over his belt before kissing him again.

"you're so pretty, simon," you whisper, and he licks over your bottom lip in response, drawing a soft whine out of you. his thighs widen just a little when he hears the clink of his belt, feeling the waistband loosen as you draw it out from the loops and toss it onto the carpet behind you. "such a handsome man you are..."

"come off it," simon growls a little, and you giggle, freeing the button and slipping your hand down. his mouth falls open in a silent moan as you cup him with a hot hand, fingers sliding under his length to fondle his balls.

"mmm..." you follow his sputtering mouth, breathing him in. "actually, simon...i really, really wanna get on it..."

"wot a brat," simon murmurs, clicking his tongue. "can't be fuckin' patient--ahh!"

you pull him out of his jeans with a firm tug before sticking your tongue out and kneeling back down to lick a curious stripe up the underside of him. simon is pulsing, radiating heat and already leaking beads of stringy pre-cum, and as you suck the tip of him into your mouth, you realize just how thick your husband really is.

you've never seen him quite this naked, quite this up close. when he fucked your thighs, he had felt big, but his cock is truly making a space for itself in your mouth--

"ah!" you gasp as he fists your hair and pulls you off, leaning down to kiss you hard.

"baby--"

"i want it--" you whimper, using your hands, letting the spit from your mouth drip down his cock as your fingers spread it wide, pumping him softly. "simon, please! please! you always say...always say i can have whatever i want, please..."

when he lets your hair go, you dive. you suck him into your mouth, practically purring as you press him back into the couch and suck. he tastes like a man should, like a husband should, musk and a little sweat and just enough soap to have you a little light-headed. with the first bob of your head, simon shudders, a big hand cupping the back of your neck as he drops his chin to his chest to watch you. he uses his other hand to push your hair back, his mouth falling open a little as he watches your eyes roll back in your head as you try to fit more of him into your mouth.

your mouth squelches with every bob. spit gathers around the edges of your mouth, little globs dripping out as you slurp and flick your tongue over every vein and soft patch of skin. you're making a mess of him, all soft mouth and wiggly tongue and gentle moans that make him seize up.

it's not even a minute of your soft sucking, and simon is caught off guard by his own release. he wants to apologize, but you look so fucking pretty, coughing a little around his wet cock.

you don't stop then either.

some of it drips down around your hands, his own cum webbing between your fingers and getting onto the front of your shirt and staining his jeans, but you keep your mouth on him. you nuzzle the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek, pull off just enough to suck so softly on the tip of him.

"baby, fuck--" simon chokes, watching you through lidded, hazy eyes. "please, fuck--"

"i want it," you whisper, smoothing a wet hand down his length. he's getting hard all over again, and he nearly cums a second time when you let your eyes find his and pepper kisses from the tip of him all the way to the base. "don't i get w-whatever i want, simon? c-can't i...can't i have more?"

simon chuckles a little. he uses his thumb to swipe a glob of cum off your chin, bringing it up to his own mouth to suck off with a snort.

"you want more, baby?" simon asks, and you sit back up on your knees, pressing your forehead to his as he eyes your lips. they're a tad swollen, kiss-bitten and wet. "wot more do ya want, hmm? wot is it my wife wants so much, huh?"

you smile, wide, those big eyes sparkling. you give him another slow stroke with your hand, and he hisses, gritting his teeth as he watches your smile get just that much bigger.

"i want you to stop playing games with me, simon," you say softly. "you'll never win. so just give me what i deserve."

"wot you deserve?"

"don't i deserve you, simon?" you ask, and when he fails to answer, you swipe your thumb over his cock, drawing a cracked groan out of him. "you won't make me beg, will you, simon?"

"no," simon pants, leaning further into you, pressing his face to yours. "never. my wife doesn't beg for anythin'."

"you promise, simon?"

"my wife gets woteva she fuckin' asks for. olways."

[killerpancakeburger]

Thinking about a Reader who ends up having Scary Dog Privileges with Ghost without meaning to. It just happened.

Then they have to deal with the fact that this comes with duties too.

Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, mostly fluff, a bit suggestive, smug!Ghost, smooth!Ghost. 800 words.

Part 2. Part 3.

When Ghost is reluctant to getting sutured in Medical after accidentally opening his stitches, grumbling he can do it himself, who does the nurse call for? Yeah, you.

She could stand her ground, after all she's used to dealing with big, whiny men, but it's much more fun to knock on your door and smile at your bewildered gaze and gaping mouth when she explains the situation in two sentences.

"Ghost's being difficult, mind taking over?" "I'm sorry, what the hell does this have to do with me?" "C'm'on, everyone on base knows he's got a soft spot for you. Don't you want to make my job easier?"

You roll your eyes and slam your hands on your desk as you get up. Groaning as you walk past her— "I'm doing this for you, nothing else, got it?"

Mumbling to yourself "you've got to be kidding me" as you barge into the sick bay. Ghost is coolly seated at the end of a bed, large as life, casual clothes as black as his mask and— oh. You weren't told the wound was on his thigh— you weren't warned that he didn’t have pants on. You can’t help it, your eyes go down, down, your lingering gaze and your flustered silence forming a confession louder than words.

A noise — a scoff or a grunt, you’re not sure — emanates from him, breaks your trance, makes you look up. The amusement in his gaze tells you he noticed your oggling— of course he did. Nothing gets past the Ghost, and you've been remarkably unsubtle. Despite the mask, you swear you can make out the smug smirk on his lips. His cockiness reignites your irritation. Annoyance making you bolder than you really are, you charge at him, crossing the distance between you two in a stride, stopping close— too close. He doesn't back off.

"What's wrong with you?" you snarl. "Nothin'," he retorts, imperturbable.

It's actually the first time you’re overlooking him. You may be enjoying it a bit too much. Nevermind the fact that you've had to wedge yourself between his parted legs to get there.

You frown, unconvinced by his answer.

“Did Soap contaminate you?”

Bargaining to be cleared out earlier was the Scotsman's trademark.

“Johnny throws a fit cos he hates feeling useless. That's not what I'm doing.”

A smirk stretches your lips.

“Oh, no? I'm sure your reasons are much more noble.”

“Doesn't matter. Got what I wanted anyway.”

He's way too self-satisfied for a man in his underwear.

You throw an unequivocal look in the direction of his injury.

“What you wanted? A still open wound?”

“You.”

He replied without missing a beat, as confident as usual. It is both alluring and aggravating.

“And your idea of wooing me is making me upset?”

You don't add “because if it is, that's really fucking stupid” out loud, but you’re sure he got the message through your tone.

“Nah. But you're more honest when you’re angry. Gutsier.”

You only realize he slipped his index and middle fingers in your trouser loops when he sharply tugs at them. Off balance, you steady yourself by catching his shoulders.

Taking advantage of the strip of bare skin between your shirt and bottoms, the pads of his thumbs idly stroke your hip bones. The contact sends electricity through you, shivers of pleasure running down your sides.

“Ghost,” you start, severe, trying not to let the effect his touch has on you show in your voice.

“Simon,” he counters, surly. “Told ya it's Simon when we're alone, didn't I?”

He did, but you didn’t think he was serious. If that's what it takes to get him to listen… you’ll play by his rules.

“Simon. What's the rest of your brilliant plan? I'm here, but I can’t stitch you up.”

“How ‘bout a deal. I'll stop resisting… for a price.”

You raise an amused eyebrow.

“What kind of price?”

“A kiss.”

You snort. You didn’t believe him capable of something so… puerile.

“With the mask on?”

He doesn't move a muscle to get rid of it.

“Take it off.”

You usually wouldn’t obey what sounds like an order so easily, but it's the first time you get to touch the skull. Slipping two fingers between skin and cloth, you slowly roll up the mask all the way under his nose.

You gently trace the scars surrounding his lips. Then, the second you feel him relax, grip on your hips slackening and intensity of his gaze waning, you grab the bottom of his mask and drag it back down vigorously, making the holes for the eyes land way too low for him to see anything.

“If you thought you'd get a reward for acting out, you've got another think coming.”

[majinbangus]

Being sick but wanting ice cream so you try to sneak out in the middle of the night to buy some like a disheveled gremlin all stuffy and sweaty, feverish in nothing but your pajamas and bathrobe, but just as you're about to leave, the light turns on and a pair of arms wrap around your waist to drag you back in bed for rest.

"Ach?! What the-?"

"Thought you could sneak away, huh?" Your man grumbles, unyielding as he (gently) manhandles you along, shooting you a mean stink eye for your attempted misadventure. "I'm special forces; where did y'think you were goin', sweetheart?"

You feel yourself start to sweat and not from the fever. "No-nowhere, darling, I was just-"

"Using pet names won't butter me up." He tightens his hold when you get squirmy. "Stop that. You need rest, y'muppet."

You blame it on your fever-addled brain, but you try to bargain with him. Promise to be good if he lets you go. Tell him how happy it'd make you if he granted this one wish. A lot of woe, is me peppered in your plea. As it turns out, he's got an iron will, and you need to work on your persuasive skills. Not surprising, but still.

"I want ice cream!" You half-heartedly thrash in his arms, making him click his tongue, adjusting his grip as to not hurt you.

"Fuckin'- stop that!"

"No, lemme go!"

Your feverish resistance is no match for his strength. All you pull from him is a frustrated grunt, annoyed with your antics.

"You're sick. Where you need to go is our bed." He leans in close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. "Or do I need to tie you down?"

The threat has the desired effect and makes you go limp in his arms, if a little pouty. You know he would do it. He's done it before, and he'll do it again. He's a man of his word, and (majority of the time) you know when to listen.

He successfully wrangles you back in bed, getting you to lie back down in warm sheets with little complaint. No rope is necessary, but he wraps you up in his arms just in case. A tried and true form of pinning you down. You never thought he'd use this method against you while you were incapacitated, but you're a wily one, even when you're sick. He'll make sure you can't escape.

You may have failed your little mission, but it's not too terrible of a loss. Not when it led you to being cuddled in his arms.

You still wish you got your ice cream, though. It's been forever since you had some. Too bad you'll only get to painfully, dramatically, yearn for your lost love now.

There's a deep chuckle puffing against your ear, and then you're being hugged tighter to your captor.

"I know that look. Don't pout. I'll get you your ice cream. Just get better for me first. Alright, mischief?"

... Alright.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

[churipu]

OUTFIT CHECK 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, iatdori yuuji x reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. jjk men being in love with you.

note. i'm back! i managed to fit in writing this in the middle of my midterms, i just finished my qualitative research paper for the midterms and i have 3 more take home exams to do. i hope you like this piece <33

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

you stood in front of the mirror, shifting your body from side to side, eying your reflection from different angles. raising a brow, you heaved out a soft sigh — before eventually twirling to face gojo who had been sitting on the edge of the bed. his icy blue eyes had been gazing at you for as long as you've been standing in front of the mirror against your reflection.

"'toru, do you think i look—"

gojo hushes you, putting a finger onto your lips, shutting you up immediately, "no, you don't look bad, and no your outfit doesn't look weird. you look beautiful," he rattles with a small smile.

"but i just feel like something's wrong with my combination," you said, stepping back to disperse from his finger, "like something's out of place. i just don't know what . . ."

gojo slipped an arm across your shoulder, turning your body to face your reflection, "i don't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, baby — you're really pretty . . . and i look pretty amazing too," he winked cheekily at the mirror, kissing the side of your face.

the male had been sitting on the edge of the bed, paying attention to you analyzing your own outfit for the past fifteen minutes. twirling here and there, stepping backwards and forwards cluelessly. the male didn't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, in fact, you looked absolutely stunning in his point of view.

his comment made you break a small smile.

"is this top too revealing?" you turn your back to the mirror, revealing a slight peek at your fragrant s/c skin.

"baby, baby," he scoffs, "i'm the strongest, i can fight, you know? and you look beautiful in that top, you should wear it often, yeah?" his slender fingers grazes over your exposed skin gently, sending shivers down your spine.

a string of laughter escaped your throat, "i love you, you know that?"

the male leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "i love you more. no complaints."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

"do you think the top suits the bottom?" you asked nanami after changing into your third pants of the day — brows furrowed in frustration as nothing seemed to be clicking.

nanami raised his eyes from the book he had in his grasp, "you look beautiful," he complimented yet again for the third time.

"kento, how am i supposed to pick an outfit when you keep complimenting them all? help me pick one, will you?" nanami didn't understand why you were insistent on the 'mismatched' outfit (at least you think it is).

but in his eyes, everything seemed well-matched. he'd say it's a 11/10 for your ability to match these outfits of yours, "how? you look beautiful in them all."

groaning out, you raise two bags. a black and sage green bag, "pick one."

nanami inspected the two bags and then looked back at your outfit briefly, "the sage green one would fit perfectly with your outfit now," he pointed.

"okay. how about a jacket, do you think i'll need one?" you questioned, rummaging through the closet, "you always have a hunch of what i'd feel, it's your judgement."

he pondered your words for a bit, "take a jacket. forecast said it's going to be cold tonight, i don't want you getting sick."

you chuckled and bobbed your head, "right. anything else i should bring?"

"pepper spray."

"check."

"be careful, yes? call me if anything happens," nanami whispers, standing up from the bed — initially he wanted to come along with you to meet your friends. but he thought that he'd be a bother to you so he stopped himself from asking, "i love you so much."

"i love you more," you kissed his lips, to which he returned.

"let's drop you there, hm?" nanami grabs your hips, giving your flesh a slight squeeze, leading you out of the house.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

"y/n, do you — oh, wow."

yuuji stood, a hand on the handle of the door he just opened and another on the doorway. his jaw dropped at the sight of you, his partner.

you stood in front of a mirror, blinking cluelessly at his reaction. not knowing whether it was his surprise because of how good you looked or the other way around, "yuuji? do i what?"

yuuji blinked himself back into reality, entering the room mutely, his back leaned onto the shut door, "where are you off to?"

shaking your head you gazed back at your reflection, "i'm just mix and matching for a hang out with nobara tomorrow, does this look funny?"

he shook his head harshly, "no, no, you look really nice! really pretty," yuuji honestly said before inhaling, you quite literally took his breath away.

"really? the color suits?" you asked, pinching the shirt you're wearing, "is the pants a bit too short?"

yuuji stood still, "no . . . you — wow, you just look so pretty y/n. i don't know what else to tell you . . ." he whispers, entranced by your figure as he detached his back from the door to approach you.

mustering out a smile, you gave him a hug, "thanks yuuji, you're the best."

he nuzzled his nose into your hair, "you're so beautiful," yuuji mumbled before kissing the crown of your head.

all of a sudden, yuuji pulls back, his face stern and a frown on his face, "how come you're going out with kugisaki and i'm not invited?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes.

"baby, i promise it's just me and her. i'll get you something special on the way back and then we can watch movies? your pick." you pinched his cheeks gently.

"any movies?"

you nod, "any movies."

"okay! deal." yuuji beams out, kissing your cheek.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[thelostconsultant]

Not a gold digger

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Fans think you only want Max's money. But as it turns out, you were wealthy before he came into your life--you just don't make it obvious.

warnings: No smut, but there's a part that makes me say MDNI.

note: So... I'm kinda back? Idk, I'll see if I'll stick around.

The toxicity of the fandom was becoming quite entertaining, really. It was the third time since you and Max had made your relationship public half a year ago that someone started an anti gold digger campaign to protect your boyfriend. They truly believed they were doing this for a greater good, and they all begged Max for his attention.

It always began after they sniffed out he had given you something expensive as a gift or took you shopping to a luxury boutique. While there were some people who tried to protect you by pointing out that maybe he enjoyed showering you with gifts, the rest didn't care about that. 

You lived in a small apartment back home, you were driving a five years old Renault SUV, and no one knew what you did for a living. This was enough to enrage them and make them believe all you wanted was Max's money at the end of the day. Just think about the way she's looking at him, one of them wrote about two months ago, she's so clearly not in love with him. Poor Max, someone please save him. 

Ridiculous.

“Is everything okay?” he asked when he got home and kissed the top of your head. 

You were sitting in his sim rig, using the time while it was free to practice, because you wanted to play with him when you weren't here together, and he was more than happy to show you the basics. “Someone started another campaign to cancel me,” you replied casually as you got out with his help. 

Even when you were standing in front of him, he didn't let go of your hand, instead he raised it to his lips to place a soft kiss on its back. “Gold digging?” You nodded with a sad look on your face, but less than five seconds later you were both laughing. “Look, I know you're having way too much fun with this, but–”

Without waiting for him to finish, you raised your hand to make him stop. “I'm not stepping out of the shadows, Max. I've been hiding for years, even fucking Forbes doesn't know my real name or face,” you told him.

Back in the old days, when Bitcoin appeared, your geeky uncle had gotten into mining and trading it. He knew the potential, so he put most of his savings into buying them, then he held onto them, and by the time he got sick years later, he knew they were valuable and would be worth a lot more in the upcoming years. In his will, he left his savings and his wallet to you, giving you the chance to use them as you wished since you had learned everything about crypto from him.

So now you had Bitcoin as well as old fashioned investments, and you had used your money to help out an up-and-coming tech company for a forty percent share, and it was later sold to a tech giant for a lot of money. But despite your wealth, you chose to stay under the radar, because you loved your small apartment, and you weren't about to trade it for some fancy penthouse. 

You had met Max the year before in Las Vegas. F1 was a sport you watched with your uncle while he was still alive, and you were hell-bent on getting a VIP pass for the weekend. If you asked your boyfriend, he would say it was love at first sight, but in reality he was just annoyed by you. For a solid ten seconds, he would correct you every time you talked about it.

You agreed that you would hide in Max's apartment until this latest campaign died down, which gave you some time to spend together in peace. Every now and then you checked the tags to see how things were going, and after the silence of the past few days, today your name was trending again. Ready to have a good laugh, you opened the tag, but the most popular post gave you a minor stroke.

“Oh, fuck me,” you yelled as you launched your phone into the couch.

Max pulled the headset down to his neck as he looked over at you. “Is everything okay?” You raised your finger to your lips as if you wanted him to stay quiet, but luckily he got the message. “I'm muted. So?”

You grabbed your phone and went over to him. “They know. One of those idiots from the company I helped back in the day posted a tweet to protect me, saying that if it wasn't for me being an angel investor, they wouldn't be millionaires now,” you summarized as you gave him the device.

He scrolled through a series of tweets, and found a post from a journalist of Forbes in which he promised a proper investigative piece based on this info. He handed you the phone, then wrapped an arm around your waist. “It's okay, schatje. I know that's not what you wanted, but maybe they'll stop with the recurring hate campaign now,” he tried. “And if you’re worried about the article… Don’t be. There is nothing compromising about you. Yes, you inherited the money, but you have proven you know what to do with it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted with a sigh. 

“I’m usually right. C’mere,” he said as he reached out to pull you closer, but you glanced over at the camera. Rolling his eyes, he quickly turned it off, then gave you an expectant look. “Will you hug me now? And I want a kiss too.”

With a laugh, you leaned down to wrap your arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss. But he wanted more, his hand slowly sneaked under your shorts, his fingers running over your clothed cunt before he decided to pull your panties aside and dip a finger between your folds. You moaned into the kiss, but he pulled away a second later to lick his finger clean. 

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you patted his shoulder and walked back to the couch. You could feel Max’s eyes on you the whole time, and when you looked at him again, he flashed a devilish smile at you. “I should quit the stream. Now that I had a taste, I want more,” he told you. 

“I’m not going anywhere, just try to be patient.”

He looked back at the screen, then put the headset back on his head and unmuted his mic. “Sorry, I have to go. See you next time,” he told the others, then logged out. You couldn’t remember the last time he left the sim rig this fast, and only a few seconds later he was kneeling in front of you, eagerly reaching up to pull your shorts off you.

liked by user1, user2 and 947,896 others

f1gossips: Breaking news! Turns out Max Verstappen's girlfriend isn't a gold digger after all as she has her own fortune according to the investigative article published by Forbes. Will the fans apologize?

view all comments

user2: And here I was, thinking she's just a greedy airhead...

user3: Easy to be wealthy with your uncle's money.

↳ user4: Have you read the whole thing? She invested the money and helped out several startups--that later became pretty successful--as an angel investor. Yes, maybe she inherited a lot of money, but she knows what to do with it.

↳ user5: May I remind you how many F1 drivers started their careers with their families's money?

user6: Told you she wasn't a gold digger. Suck it, haters.

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,577,353 others

maxverstappen1: If you don't buy your girlfriend gifts every once in a while, you're a bad boyfriend. I love to spoil her, it's not a crime. I love her, I'm proud of her, and you can send us as much hate as you want, it will only make us stronger.

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername: I'd be perfectly fine without the gifts, I already told you.

↳ maxverstappen1: I don't care.

landonorris: You're absolutely right!

↳ maxverstappen1: You're single, how would you know?

↳ landonorris: Just FYI, I've been in relationships before.

danielricciardo: You're so disgustingly smitten with her. (I love you both.)

[simpjaes]

Wrong brother ― P.JS & P.SH

anonymous requested: jayhoon with “fucking the wrong brother” trope 😵‍💫

wc: 1.8k

tags: sunghoon is a fuckboy on campus but you don't know it. you accidentally send your nudes to jay instead of his brother sunghoon and well....WELL, sexting, actual fucking but it's alluded to, second-hand embarrassment. NOT PROOF READ.

"Just friends" only goes so far when you've been pining something fierce for the past three semesters for a very specific kind of dicking down.

By specific, you mean Sunghoon. You want Sunghoon to dick you down so fucking bad by this point that you think you're going crazy.

The thing is, you've been friends with him and his brother, Jay, since you started college. The three of you kind of clinged to each other because you at least recognized one another (from your hometown) on this vast campus that is filled with strangers and people already within respective groups.

The three of you made your own respective friend group.

Over the semesters, you never really thought about either of them in a sexual light until Sunghoon did something one day that ignited a little bit of something in you. Maybe it's the way he looked at you that night, all drunken and woozy with drooping eyes and your image melting you into his surroundings. Or maybe it's the way he didn't seem to mind that you walked in on that, witnessing him literally choke a girl out on his cock mid-party in an unlocked bathroom.

It's the way all three of you were gonna blow off this party and just hang out together again. It's the way all three of you ended up admitting that you low-key wanted to experience a college party every now and then. It's the way he refuses to talk about what you saw, but knows damn well you want to mock him for it.

Mocking him in a way that would make him talk about it. If only so you can ask why he looked at you like that, with his half-smirk and quick raise of the brows as if to fucking invite you to join.

You made a point not to tell Jay about this because you knew he'd never let Sunghoon live it down, and quite frankly, you want him to live it down. With you, specifically.

This leads to today. So long after you witnessed Sunghoon mid-sexual light, it was hard to see him the way you used to. The way he held her head down even when someone walked in...the way you saw a glimpse of him moaning, half-talking to her when you opened the door.

Is it so wrong that you feel Sunghoon, the shy, beloved, and sweet Sunghoon, has a bit of a mean streak if his dick is hard? Is it really, so fucking horrible for you to kinda, be like, you know, turned the fuck on by it?

It's gotten to the point that the few friends you do have outside of your little circle has gotten fucking sick of hearing about him.

"Just fucking send him a nude, god." One of your friends gripes with a roll of her eyes. "We're in college, he's probably down to fuck if you are!"

You roll your eyes right back at her, snarling a bit as you lean in closer, whispering now.

"He's like, my best friend. Don't you think it's weird that I can't stop thinking about the way he like...basically treated some girl's face like a pocket pussy?"

"No. The dude is hot, anyone would wanna partake in-"

"I can't just fucking roll up like 'Hey hoonie, nice cock, i think. I don't know, i couldn't see it because you had it buried into some girl and I really want to see what it looks like and also i really want you to do that to me just to see what it's like maybe hahahahha"

"You can literally do that." You friend says, fed up. "Again, just snap a nude to him and send it. Just immediately apologize and beg him not to look at it. Pretend it's an accident."

You stare at her, feeling your phone burn in your pocket at the idea.

"I'll text you and tell you what happens." You say suddenly, wiping your hands clean from the crumbs of your snack and walking away without another word.

You don't hear her, but your friend cheers you on with another roll of her eyes. She doesn't actually care because, well, it's Sunghoon. She's actually a little bit shocked that word hasn't gotten around to you. The dude is actually very, very well known with the ladies on campus.

Any lady.

All ladies.

Except you, apparently.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Mortified.

You are fucking mortified. Here you were, dressed in your best (absolutely nothing) with your fingers still grazing your clit as you stare in horror at your phone.

You really did that. You sent the fucking newly taken photo and immediately apologized. Hell, you even closed your phone for a minute out of anxiety that approaching Sunghoon this way was a bad idea...

You phone went off just a few seconds after you turned it off. Just a text from Jay, no biggie, probably just wondering what you're up to.

You were literally still playing with your clit when you opened his text without much care. He shouldn't find out you're making a move on Sunghoon anyway, right?

Well, yeah. He'll never find out because that fucking move you made wasn't on Sunghoon at all. The way your stomach flips upon opening his texts only to find that fucking picture of your open, wet, fingered pussy right there above your quick apology... and then right below that is Jay's texts reading:

Jay: was that really an accident?

Jay: figured you'd have called to tell me to not look at it if you actually were sorry

Jay: i'd know if you had someone to send something like that to anyway

Fuckkkkk why'd you have to be so bold to send something so graphic?! It's so out of character for you, even if you did send it to the right person to begin with. You really are going fucking crazy.

You: um...it was an accident, really...

Jay: you don't seem too apologetic for sending it to me

Jay: "sorry, that wasnt for you. pls delete lol"

Jay:....you sure it wasn't for me?

Jay: sounds like you meant to send that...

This is...embarrassing. Jay, fucking Jay of all people is stroking his fucking ego right now. Thinking this is for him, that you want him. Which, i mean, that's surprising because he acts so uninterested in sex when you're around him. Like you've never even seen him stare at a girl for too long or admit to you, or his brother, that he wants to start dating. Yet here he is??? Talking to you like this?

You don't even know how to respond to him when you get another text. A fucking image.

Of his cock.

That's Jay's cock on your phone. Right there. Jesus.

Jay: oops, lol, didn't mean to send that.

You pause, barely able to tear your eyes away from how fat that thing is before you respond in an annoyed, text-tone.

You: are you fucking mocking me?

Jay: depends, are you into that kind of thing?

What the fuck is happening right now? Is this really Jay? Is this how he acts? What is with you and your best friends ending up acting...so interesting when a pussy is around?

You: what's it to you?

Jay: you literally just showed me how deep your fingers can go in your pussy, it's everything to me right now

Why...did you just tingle? Why did your fucking clit throb at that? This is Jay. Then again, you had the same shock when you witnessed Sunghoon that night. Still, should you really play into this? Should you really lead Jay on out of pure arousal and curiosity and forget about your plan with Sunghoon?

You'd look so bad if Jay found out now that you plan to do the same shit to Sunghoon. Ugh, you feel like a total slut.

You: jay, it was an accident.

Jay: fuck off with that, no it wasnt. besides, i liked it. send more

You sigh, slapping yourself on the forehead out of pure embarrassment but god. Are you really about to do this? Are you really snapping more pictures right now?

Yeah. You fucking are. And you send them just as easily as you did the first time, allowing your clit to think for you at this moment rather than worry about the consequences of this.

Jay: fuck, i can't believe you're doing this right now, prettier than i imaged

Jay: jerked off to you so much last semester, was starting to think i need to find someone else to chase

Jay: [image attachment]

The whiplash you're getting right now. Jay...has been into you?! Since fucking when?!?! and, god, fuuuuck, why is he so big? Why is Sunghoon at the back of your mind right now? Why the fuck are you rubbing your clit harder for this?

Jay: well?

You: i feel weird about this

Jay: just give it a few, keep doing that, keep showing me.

And well, you do. Solely out of curiosity. You keep snapping pictures, showing him a personal timeline of how wet you're getting before you get another text from him. Finally, after about ten minutes of silence.

Jay: open your door

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Silence. Utter fucking silence as you lay next to Jay with his heavy limbs thrown over you. Despite the heaviness of your breathing paired with his, your ears are ringing.

How did he do that?!

When did he learn how to fuck like that?

What the actual fuck is happening?!

"Jay..." You half-whisper out to him, breath still struggling to balance out.

"Hm?" He hums back, his arms pulling you in, pressing your back to his chest as he ghosts his lips next to your ear. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just-" You decide not to tell him about how this was accidental. "I'm shocked, that's all."

For some reason, the laugh he lets out fills your heart. It's the same, genuine, laugh he lends to you when you do something clumsy. Never had you realized that it was an endearing laugh, one that pointed to the fact that he likes you.

And it's not that you don't like him. You love Jay so, so much. But this, this is something you don't know if you can come back from. Do you have feelings for him? Not really...you're just horny. Do you have feelings for Sunghoon? You can't say that you do. But this...meant something to Jay.

He can never find out that you'd never spared him a sexual glance or thought before this. You can't bring yourself to lose that laugh in your ear right now.

"So, you liked it?" He asks now, which only makes your heart rattle even more because of course he's seeking reassurance right now.

"Are you kidding?!" You try to play it off like a joke, trying not to attach yourself to the emotions he gives to you. "I came like three times Jay, holy shit."

You feel him shrug behind you, as if he's proud.

"What? You thought I couldn't do it?"

It's not that you never thought he could do it, it's just that...you've never thought about it all.

[hotsexyemogirl77]

╭──────────── ╰─➛✎﹏ | nsfw headcanons ! .°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

incl. jeff the killer, ticci toby, masky, hoodie, eyeless jack, ben drowned

18+ | minors dni

❦.♱ʚ♡ɞ♱❦

jeff the killer

" you look so pretty wrapped around my cock. you're such a whore for me, i'm gonna fuck you dumb "

-filthy mouth ,,, he's so graphic in bed

-always lets you know how good you feel around him <3

-he loooves watching your face

-his favourite position is definitely either missionary or when you ride him

-he loves face fucking i'm sorry he loves watching you take all of him

-likes watching you cough and tear up too

- big on degrading

-he loves edging either you're doing it

to him or he's doing it to you he goes crazy for it

-mean and dominate but he will never deny you pleasure

-you'd have to beg for it first though

-loves finishing on your face and chest

-loves being noisy he does NOT care if anybody hears you two

ticci toby

" fuuck, keep clenching around me like that, i promise i'm gonna fill you up so good just give me one more ok ¿ "

- he wants to be a dad sooooo bad (he wants to see you pregnant with his seed)

- crazy stamina he's at LEAST going 2 LONG rounds

- munch ™ but he likes loves to be all up in there. like All over down there

- very messy

- loves the idea of his and your fluids mixing together

- speaking of, he loves hearing the slick sticky sounds from them mixing

- lowkey kinda sick LMAO

- doesn't know where to keep his hands he's all over you

- he loves finishing down your throat or inside you (if you'll let him of course)

- his favourite position is doggy or reverse cowgirl

- switch dom leaning for sure

masky

" shut your mouth or i'll give you something to shut it with, i wont be bothered to be nice either about it sweetheart "

- if you think jeff was mean you have another thing coming honey </3

- big sadist

- wether him marking you up or him spanking you he's doing it all

- he especially likes spanking your ass

- he like seeing you in any position where he's in control

- likes spitting

- doesn't matter if you spit on him or vice versa he's into it

- hard dom loves seeing you so helpless for him

- likes seeing you cry or tear up

- likes the idea of handcuffs in bed

- rough and mean for sure but he knows when he's taking it too far

hoodie

" such a pretty thing for me, im sorry for being so mean you just look so good begging for me down there "

- likes head a little too much

- loves to see you begging or yknow, just on your knees for him

- sooo cocky

- he likes any position he can see your face in he has no preference for it

- likes gagging you but he rewards you for being such a doll about it <3

- he likes receiving more than giving but he likes seeing his partner happy

- he will do it because he likes returning the favour (he likes when you pull his hair)

- lowkey a masochist but he won't say it out loud

- he likes being bitten, marked up ect

- likes seeing your expressions while fucking, his favourite is when he first slips it in

- and when your eyes shut or roll back during it

- hard/service dom

eyeless jack

" look at you, so needy for me, if you ask nicely i'll give you what you want and more"

- loves the every sound you make

- every moan, whimper, cry ect

- big on telling him yourself what you want from him

- he gets a power trip from it

- doesn't make much sound aside from talking

- grunting, growling and heavy breather

- LOVES 69-ing and missionary

- loves marking you up either from hickeys or bite marks

- especially in places others can see them too

- likes keeping his hands your hips

- loves setting the pace

- service top/dom

ben drowned

" fuck yeah just like that angel, please don't stop you feel so good around me like that "

- switch sub leaning

- LOVES when you're on top

- whimpering ,,, and whining ,,

- he like cumming either anywhere on you or down your throat

- he begs a lot without having to ask

- very very eager to please you

- despite all that he can have his more dominate moments too

- loves doggy or literally just bending you over his desk

- LOVES LOVES LOVES biting, scratching, hickeys ect

- goes crazy when it's happening either way tbh

- loses it when you pull his hair it gets him so hard so fast

- likes to tell you how good you feel and are and vice versa call him a good boy

- loves under the desk support