#like my fucking bones are restless

[theflurtifly]

why do i feel sad and evil all the time this sucksss <-has several mental illnesses

[ashfdhfgdsfk]

convinced im meant to be nocturnal

[tonycries]

I'm Addicted, I Admit It!

Synopsis. They’re not drunk on alcohol - no, they’re drunk on you and your pretty lil’ pússy.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pússydrunk boys, strength differences, bréeding, màting press, desperate boys, manhandling, marking, jealousy (Nanami’s side), praise, degradation, smacking, cúmplay, dirty talk, some HEINOUS things, lowkey fluffy Sukuna, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Was originally gonna be something else but I couldn’t get it out of my head so-

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Won’t stop, can’t stop

A pussydrunk Toji Fushiguro promises to break you - and is fully intent on fulfilling these promises. There’s no way he wasn’t with the way he had you folded into a mating press for the third time tonight. 

“Oh hngh- please.” you mewl, begging for- you don’t even know at this point. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your mouth, and you flinch as his heavy balls smack your ass harder, throbbing cock massaging your gummy walls over and over-

You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

Vision blurry, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, his cum gushing out of your overfilled pussy and spreading in a lewd little pool beneath you. You’re beyond the point of cockdrunk at this point - all you can do is sit there and take it while he keeps squeezing himself into you with reckless abandon. 

That little scar on the corner of his mouth rubs against your lips so deliciously as he grimaces in both pain and pleasure. Overstimulating you both to insanity. And fuck, Toji wasn’t even sure if he could cum against but damn if he wasn’t going to try. Just wanting to fill you up one more time- “One more, doll. Not fucking enough.”

And before you know it, your pussy is clenching around nothing. 

“Ngh- T-Toji.” Face sinking into the plush pillow as Toji flips you like a ragdoll. Not even giving you the time to register what’s happening before he’s bullying his thick cock into your dripping cunt from behind. Relishing in that delirious little squeal of surprise that leaves you as he stuffs you full again.

“Shit, fucking squeezing around me so fucking deliciously, sweetheart. Look at ya.” he slurs hoarsely, voice shot. Drinking in your sobbed little, “Ah- jus’ like that. Fuck hngh- keep going-”

Both of you are barely lucid at this point, but it’s all that tiny rational part of himself can do to not fuck into your sloppy pussy like an animal while you clench and flutter around him. Kissing hotly down your spine as you desperately adjust to his massive cock.

But ah you should’ve known - should’ve gotten an inkling of realization at the way his achingly hard cock was throbbing inside your walls at a maddening little bump! bump! bump!

With an impatient little grunt, Toji wraps an arm around your waist to give your quivering cunt a soft little swat! He drinks in your cute lil’ gasp of surprise, reeling back all the way till his angry, red tip was just kissing your sloppy entrance, pushing in quick, short jabs of his hips - more to fit himself deeper inside your snug cunt than anything. 

With each harsh thrust, Toji’s pulling you back onto himself with bruising strength. Forcing you to feel every ridge and vein against all the right places as he stretches you on his cock. “Fuck, you’re incredible.” he murmurs. “Arch more f’me- yeah, that’s it. Tha’s my girl.” 

And oh how you love being thrown around by him this way. Because no more was Toji self-conscious about hurting you like he usually was. 

No, he’s pushing your back down to arch into his dick, still using and bending you however he pleases. And as he flattens his feet on the mattress, putting his body weight onto yours, it’s only a matter of time before you wonder when bones will start breaking.

But it still wasn’t enough. And he’s restless. 

Because Toji’s looping two strong arms around your legs, letting himself fall backwards onto the mattress, hips burning as he keeps fucking you like an animal. Not pausing even as you clench around him in shock. 

“Feels s’fucking heavenly.” he groans, voice raw. “Wan’ one more, sweetheart. Give me one more.” Lacing his fingers above your head to push. Down down down. So fucking filthily. 

And it burns the way he had you so shamefully spread open. At this point you can hardly believe you’re conscious let alone being able to sob out a strangled little, “Yes! Yes yes yes make me cum, Toji. Make me cum all over your cock again.” 

And he does - thumb pressing down on your poor, ravaged clit. Hard. unmoving even as you whine and buck into his touch. Torn between running away and pushing back for more more more- you cum with nothing more than pathetic little tingles that make you milk Toji’s cock desperately. Batting your lashes tearily up at him with a low, “Wan’ you to hah- c-cum insi-.”

You don’t even have to finish the sentence, before Toji’s pumping his seed into you with a strangled groan of what sounds like your name. Nothing more than hot, sticky wisps of cum that trickle down the side, too much for your poor overfilled pussy. Shooting delicate rope after rope until his cock is angry and twitching inside with nothing but blanks.

But in the haze of your high, you hear the way your boyfriend still finds it in himself to chuckle.  A dark little, “One more, sweetheart.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - His, his, his

When Nanami Kento is pussydrunk, everyone will know the day after. 

And by everyone, it’s everyone - from the apartment security guard that blushes and looks away, to your coworkers who titter when you walk in. 

Because Nanami can’t stop himself from claiming each and every inch of your pretty self. Lips searing on your skin, leaking tip dragging along your swollen folds. His precum smearing so filthily across your cunt.

“K-Kento-” you mewl, grinding your hips into his so that he would just fucking ruin you like you wanted him to. 

“Mhm?” he murmurs, nipping along the delicate skin of your neck. Tongue flattening, licking long, languid stripes down like a sort of reverence. “Tell me what you want, my love.”

And if he put an emphasis on the pet name, well, then let it be known that Nanami Kento was a composed man - but that wouldn’t mean he won’t let everyone know you’re his. Even those scrubs that can’t take a hint. 

Which is why his neat fingernails were digging deep into your hips, leaving pretty crescents in their wake. Dragging down ever-so-slightly to leave you all marked up and his. His grip on you only tightens at the pretty lil’ whines that spill from your kiss-bitten lips, “Wan’ you- hah- inside me s’bad.”

“Oh? And who does my girl want inside her pretty lil’ cunt?”

“You! You Kento- ngh-”

Well, whatever his girl wants - she will get. Because Nanami’s immediately pressing his angry, leaking tip into your sloppy pussy, groaning at the way you’re already clamping down on him so deliciously. Not stopping till you were flush against the neat tufts of blond at his base. Barely even giving you time to adjust because you’ve wanted this for so long and you’re sucking him up so well. 

“Ah! Hngh- Fuck. Yeah fuck me just like that- Kento.” you’re tightening your legs around him, letting Nanami all but use you as he thrusts in small, mindless little motions of his hips. Mouth still marking and biting your skin relentlessly. 

His lips leave your neck to whisper against yours, eyes half-lidded and boring into yours. “Love when y’say my name.”

Gasping breathlessly at the bruising grip all on your hips - your sensitive clit - your throat - just everywhere because Nanami can’t get enough of you. And you can do nothing but buck up deliriously as he speeds up his pace. Ramming his thick cock into your sloppy pussy deeper and deeper. “You’re mine, y’know that? All mine. And anyone with eyes can see that.”

Several things happen at once, you let out a strangled moan as Nanami changes his angle to hit that one spot he knew so well. Flushed tip hitting it over and over until you were sure it was bruising. As bruising at the hand kneading your ass, swiftly coming down. Hard. 

Smack!

Nanami’s large handprint sears into your skin. And through the haze, he soothes his hand over the sting. Starting to draw slow, languid circles on your swollen clit like a little apology - but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be any nicer. Not at all - in fact, before you can react, he’s touching any and every inch of skin once more, making sure to leave pretty lil’ marks for days.

And he has to fight that loud, carnal part of himself that just wants to ruin you under his hands here forever, but no - Nanami needs everyone else to see as well. See how you’re so beautifully his.

Smack! 

“So pretty f’me, my girl. All f’me.”

“Yes! Ah- yes yes yes. S’all for you, Kento oh-” you moan brokenly like a mantra. A raw little ah! ah! ah! Leaving your swollen lips each time his twitching balls smack your ass, so wet and sloppy with your slick. You’re sure they leave a mark every time his achingly hard cock bullies into your snug cunt, dipping in and out in and out in and-

“Yeah? Then you’re gonna cum f’me, too, pretty girl?”

“Yes- ah-” Hand on your clit frenzied now, hips out of control. Breath hot against your ear while he holds you down in a bruising grip. So very filthy and all his-

And then you’re cumming. Jolts of electricity sparking down your spine as you cum so hard that you grab at Nanami’s sculpted back for some - any - semblance of sanity. 

The only things on your mind being how hot and heavy he was fucking you through your high, and the sharp sting on the crook of your neck, his canines digging into your delicate skin.

“F-fuck.” he whispers, muffled in your neck. “Squeezin’ me so tight. Ngh-” hips stuttering and so sloppily still meeting yours. Still fucking rock-hard.

And through your glassy vision you manage to make out the pure pride shining in his eyes as he reads the silent question on your face. 

“Not yet, my girl. I still see some blank spots.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Quiet bully

“Mm, not hngh- stopping until you cum again f’me, pretty girl.”

When Geto is pussydrunk you barely even notice at first.

Because he’s the ever-graceful and suave Geto Suguru, even when he’s ramming into your pretty pussy with reckless abandon. Head thrown back, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead, hands bruising on your hips and pulling you to deeper into his hips as he fucks you from behind. 

The only way you do get an inkling of the fact is because he’s so mean. Geto always is in bed - but right now he’s just bullying you. Long index toying with your swollen clit, quick, maddening little motions to get you off for the nth time tonight. 

“But, Suguru!” you mewl, clawing at the sheets, “C-can’t cum again-”

“You will.” he leans down, breath hot against your ear as he whispers, low and gravelly. His abs are rubbing against your back as he keeps his unforgiving pace, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Because Geto doesn’t get drunk on just your pussy - no, he gets drunk off of all of you and how pretty you are when you’re cumming all for him. 

“C’mon, you do it f’me.” he hums, so mockingly innocent that would’ve almost believed him - if it wasn’t for the way he speeds up on your clit. Throbbing cock twitching inside you at the delicate tears streaking down your face. 

Fingers merciless on your clit, balls smacking against your skin, holding you still as he rams into you over and over-

“S-Suguru!” you let out a strangled gasp, white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes as you cum. And oh he loves that cute lil’ expression on your face, the tears clinging on to your lashes and the way your slutty cunt flutters so filthily around him.

You’re lucky you’re turned away from him, because you don’t see the cruel little smile that curls his lips or the excitement flashing in his darkened eyes. Though, maybe it would’ve better prepared you for when he huffs out a fucked-out, “Tha’s my girl. One more- Hngh- one more.”

Your eyes snap open, a broken little sob leaving you because fuck you weren’t going to make it out alive, Geto was going to absolutely ravage you till you’re ruined-

“O-one more.” Geto groans like a mantra. Flattening his feet on the bed to ram into you at a different angle - one he knew would hit you at that one spot that had you gasping and grinding deeper into his throbbing cock. “One more f-fuck, give me one more-”

If you were in a better state of mind maybe you’d have noticed how fucking sloppy and mean Geto was slamming his cock into your snug pussy. And how his sadistic little hums were becoming more and more strained, turning into broken grunts like he was begging you. Begging himself. Still fucking you like an animal, bodyweight pushing yours down, you crushed underneath him. Trying to milk that last, sweet little orgasm out of you.

“Cum f’me once more, my girl.”

And nothing more has to be said before you’re cumming. Again. Eyes scrunching shut in pain and pleasure as you grab at the headboard for some semblance of stability. 

Honestly, you don’t even have to, because Geto’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his heated body. Grunting as your cunt desperately tries to milk him for all he’s worth. Brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. But Geto can’t - won’t right now. Not yet. 

Instead he’s reeling his hips back again, until his angry, red tip was just kissing your sloppy hole. Running on just your cute lil’ whines and the way you were clamping down so deliciously around him. Thrusting in frantic, shallow grinds for now because he was feeling so generous as to ease you into it.

“Suguru! Ah- not again-” you squeal, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. But whatever plea that comes next gets stuck in your throat as your loving boyfriend utters words that have your cunt clenching exhaustively in anticipation. 

“Now the real fun starts.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Please, baby. Please.”

For Choso, it’s hard to not get drunk off of your pretty lil’ cunt. And he gets so whiny and needy when he does. Barely even squeezing his throbbing cock through the first ring of muscle before he thinks he might just see the pearly gates of heaven - and you were an angel. 

You’re just so warm and sloppy on top of him, slick dripping down to his twitching balls, swallowing him up so deliciously. 

“Ah! Ngh- s-slow down-” you whine, head spinning at the pure stretch of him stuffing you full. His twitching balls were pressed against your ass, veins grazing against your plushy walls, pulsing in a maddening thump! thump! thump! that you can feel in your throat. “S’too big, Cho. I don’t think I can-” 

“No!” he gasps into your skin, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed so deceivingly innocently. “Need it s’bad. Need you so bad- Fuck, I can’t stop-” 

Hips moving mindlessly, fucking up in tiny, shallow little thrusts to bully himself inside you. Not even fully inside you, but he was already so out of control. 

The mattress is creaking deafeningly, a lewd little staccato with the squelches from down below. “Choso-” you whimper, torn between clamping down on his swollen cock to suck him up more desperately and running away. 

“Oh- oh baby, f-fuck. Squeezing m’so tight.” he’s groaning into the crook of your neck, strong arms wrapped so tight around your waist that it almost hurt. “Hngh- Don’t think you can run away from me.” And Choso couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to - barely even giving you time to adjust before he’s milking himself on your dripping cunt. 

Cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips each time he rams himself inside deeper and deeper, you were just gushing around him. Pretty pussy taking him so readily despite your protests. “Need this so hngh- fucking badly. Need this need this need this-”

“F-fuck, Cho- Yes, give it t’me.”

Ah, his head was spinning. The only thoughts running through his mind being how sloppy you were, so wet and squeezing him so perfectly - his pretty girl was taking him so well. 

Blindly, Choso shifts onto his forearms, head craning to graze his lips along the seam of your mouth . Mind too hazy to kiss you properly like he wanted to - but it’s fine, he’ll kiss you silly after this. Fuck, he muses, balls squeezing painfully, just as soon as he cums. 

And you can do nothing more than take it as he chokes out low little moans of your name. Head spinning because his cock was so big and he wasn’t stopping - just wanting to fuck your tight pussy until he-

“Ngh- c-can’t fucking take it anymore, baby. Need to fucking cum.” he grunts, tearing springing to his eyes, sounding like he’s losing a bit of his sanity every time his heavy balls smack your ass. And he needed you to, too - ringed fingers snaking down to draw harsh, frenzied little patterns on your swollen clit. Not even circles because shit Choso doesn’t have the time for that - just wanting to have you gasping and seeing stars as soon as possible. 

“Cho, m’c-close. Ah! Ngh, m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum-” you keen, hips bucking up wildly for more more more- And oh it’s like Choso’s favorite song, because his throbbing cock is twitching inside you so deliciously, thrusts sloppy and unfocused, thumb aching with how fast it was on your clit. 

“Me too, baby. Hngh- m-me too.” he gasps into your open mouth, movements only getting faster and faster and-

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes, and Choso’s hips stuttering - so desperate, so filthy as he shoots thick, hot spurts of cum into your snug cunt. Fucking his seed deeper and deeper into you mindlessly. 

And he can’t stop - he won’t. But you absolutely love it. Because you’ve barely blinked the haze from your eyes before he’s pulling away ever-so-slightly, a hand pushing away the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Breaths ragged, voice hoarse. 

“Not enough, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Sober thoughts

They say drunk minds speak sober thoughts, and oh how Sukuna wishes that wasn’t the case when he’s fucking you dumb. How he wishes he could stop the strained little grunts that escape him each time his heavy balls smack your ass. 

“Kuna- Ngh- s’too much, c-can’t anymore-”

How he wishes he wasn’t drunk off your cute lil’ whines, and that fucked-out expression on your face as he rams his cock into your pretty pussy. Plunging into your heavenly cunt again and again and- It was too fucking much for him. 

Because it makes him wish he didn’t lean down, whispering softly in your ear, “You can do it, angel. Hah- I I know you will. Hngh- That pretty cunt is made f’me, always taking me so good-”

Ah, you clench so obscenely around his thick cock, shivers running down your spine. Milking him so obscenely as his weeping tip hits your poor cervix over and over. 

“W-wha-?” you blink tearily at him, voice shot. Trying to grasp reality because usually, Sukuna would usually tell you to shut up and fucking take it like the good lil’ slut you are. And if you were in a better state of mind you’d almost be embarrassed at the way he holds such power over you, just a few words of praise and you’re already turning into his personal plaything. 

He huffs out in frustration, leaning down to lick a long, lazy stripe up your cheek, gathering the big fat tears rolling down it on his tongue. And you can’t even think of bringing yourself to be disgusted, because this is Sukuna and he’s always so filthy and mean. 

Except right now, being mean is the last thing on his mind. Murmuring out a strained little “Don’t act so surprised. You know you always milk my cock so well.” drinking in your cute little whimpers. “Shit- like yer trynna suck the s-soul out of me. Never met someone so fucking perfect f’me-”

He thinks he could almost cum right here right now when he sees you snaking down a hand to play with your swollen clit. “But Kuna~” Such an adorable pout appearing on your face when he gently smacks that hand away. Sukuna just wants to kiss it off your swollen lips.

And he does - licking hotly at the seam of your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip while you keen into his. It’s messy - all teeth and spit and adoration. 

Because you might not see it with your eyes half-lidded from the ecstasy, but Sukuna is looking at you with such nauseating heart-eyes. Ones he’d vehemently deny later, of course. But for now he settles for groping a hand down your pretty body, one, long finger rubbing unhurried little circles on your throbbing, achy clit. 

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head.”

So different from his unforgiving cock. All push and pull as he fucks you like his sextoy, but kisses you like his God. 

“Ah! Jus’ like that, feels so f-fucking good-” you’re a teary, whimpering mess underneath him. 

“Mhm? Feels s’good, huh?” he groans gutturally. Letting you buck wildly underneath him because shit you look so pretty being all desperate and needy for him. “Squeezin’ me s’tight. Fucking heavenly you are, you’re gonna pay for it if I cum early, angel.”

Your eyes snap open at his delirious confession and the way he seems well and fully intent on breaking you - and talking you nicely through it. It was making your head spin, especially at the way Sukuna get more and more out of control, all sloppy movements and even sloppier words. Slurring out little praises while he stuffed your ravaged cunt faster. Deeper. Pure, carnal need where he usually toyed with you so cruelly. Closer and-

“Cum for me, angel.”

You think you cum at the first word out of his mouth, because you’re seeing stars behind your eyes before Sukuna even finishes the sentence. And he’s not far behind - giving you one, final harsh thrust before filling you up in thick ropes of cum. It gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy as he keeps fucking into you like some animal. Letting out little mutters of how fucking beautiful you were and how heavenly your cunt is and-

And, well, by the time he’s collapsing into your ready arms, Sukuna might not be so pussydrunk anymore. But by God it doesn’t stop the way he nuzzles your hair softly. 

Pulling your sweaty body close to his, so fucked-out and exhausted. So fucking debauched with the way his cum gushes out of you. Hot and sticky, seeping into the sheets and pooling in the nonexistent space between you two. 

So very, very his. 

♡ GOJO SATORU - Shut up!

Gojo Satoru doesn’t shut up - not even when he’s stuffing his cock into your pretty pussy, and especially not when he’s drunk off of the heavenly feeling. Off the sight of you - all swollen lips fallen into a soft oh!, eyes glassy and miles away, so debauched and pretty underneath him - he just has to let you know.

“Look at you. Fucking perfect. Gonna fuck you till I can’t anymore.” he murmurs wetly. “Gonna make it feel so good f’you. Gonna have y’milk my cock until there’s nothing to milk.”

And Gojo swears he isn’t pussydrunk - but the way he’s babbling into your tits says otherwise. Looking up at you through his long lashes with dazed, hooded eyes, words muffled around your tit but still he keeps running his mouth. 

“Hngh- S’fucking tight and hot around me.” he murmurs, hips snapping to meet yours, milking himself mindlessly on your snug cunt. So hard that it almost hurt at the sting of skin-on-skin. “God, could stay like this f-forever.”

He was getting so loud now. Mixing with the sloppy squelches from below.

“You could, too, huh? Drunk on my cock enough to? Y’look like it-”

That makes your cheeks heat up. “Satoru-” You scramble to hastily cover Gojo’s mouth, stopping that sweet sweet voice from saying the most filthy things. You can feel his smug little grin underneath your fingertips, and you almost know what’s coming- before he licks a long, amused stripe up your palm.

Snatching your hand back, you sigh - as best you could when your boyfriend was ramming his thick cock inside you - “Satoru! What did I say about-”

“But you make it so easy, sweetheart.” he whines, hands roaming all over your body. Gripping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach before resting at your swollen clit. Pooling your sweet juices on his fingertips, drawing featherlight circles around the nub like he was trying to convince you. “Don’t lie. Y’like this big mouth. Love it even.”

Unlike Gojo - it’s hard to get your words out when he’s bullying his cock into your dripping cunt. Ramming into you over and over-

“Admit it. Don’t you love it? Love hearing me talk fucking filthy to you like this?” His words were coming out fast now, mixing with your cute whines and the heady air of the room. Each one punctuated by a brutal, harsh into your dripping cunt. 

Fingers working magic on your sensitive clit while his cock ravages you below. And the great Gojo Satoru does not give a fuck about your hushed whispers about how your neighbours are home or how “this is the fifth time they’ve complained.”

Because his girl’s pretty lil’ cunt is fucking perfect and he needs you to know.

Gojo presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. Thrusts growing more and more careless. Losing his sanity with each stroke - with each word that comes out of his mouth. “I know you like it.” he groans, “I can see it in your eyes, n’ the way this slutty lil’ pussy squeezes me so fucking tight.”

Dragging - not pushing - you both closer to the edge. Frantic now, syllables slurring together and Gojo’s hips stuttering into yours. Drunk off of you and your cunt and the way he can’t stop talking and talking and-

“Yes,” your words were a barely audible whisper - but Gojo hears. Of course, he does. “I love it. Fucking love it, Toru.”

And then he’s cumming - and cumming so hard that Gojo thinks he’ll never be able to stop. Not, that he’d ever want to.

Because Gojo keeps pumping the thick, hot spurts of cum oozing out of him into your sloppy pussy. And shit you look so pretty underneath him, his seed dribbling down your thighs, eyes fluttering shut as you cream around his cock. And, of course, he has to let you know - babbling about how cute you were milking his cock and how warm and wet.

And Gojo’s still running his mouth as he pulls out, over your disappointed little mewl. All the way down till he’s swiftly centered between your open legs. Breath fanning your cunt, a devilish grin curling his lips.

“Time to help you remember exactly how much you love this big mouth.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[ultravioletrayz]

I’m trying to get to sleep but now I am WIDE AWAKE WITH MIGGY IDEAS AAAAAH help 🙈 Miguel trying to sleep and his f!reader not being able to so she keeps ‘bugging’ him with little kisses or fidgeting or nuzzling her soft curves into him - things keeping him awake until he can’t take it anymore and tries to ‘expel her energy’ one way or another 👀🤔 aaaaahhhhhh my heart ❤️

kikiiiii this is so sexy!!

Pairing: miguel o’hara x curvy!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, prone bone, lazy sex, unprotected p in v, hair pulling, miguel is a little bit mean but that's just because he's sleepy

Summary: a tired, frustrated miguel gets fed up with your restlessness and fucks you to sleep

A/N: just a little blurb because the idea short-circuited my brain and I can't write properly 😭

Those wandering hands that had been twirling and tickling at the curly hairs decorating Miguel's nape are now firmly gripping the sheets as your body rocks back and forth in tandem with the squeaking mattress.

You're lying on your tummy, ass cheeks held apart by big, rough hands so that the lewd squelching of your drenched pussy can't be muffled. Miguel's hips slam into the flesh of your ass with each of his deep, pacifying strokes, giving you everything you so clearly wanted from him a few moments ago.

Miguel is a groaning, sloppy mess against your back, hunched over you lethargically as he grinds his pelvis against you, his fat tip massaging your insides, making you whine against the pillows and sink further into the mattress, your body already tired as you close your eyes and take his big cock as well as you can.

Until one of his hands leaves your ass, reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair, long fingers getting tangled in the strands as he yanks your head upwards, leaning down to look at your fucked-out face, a cocky smirk gracing his own sweat-covered features.

"Nuh uh, sweetheart. If I don't get to sleep, neither do you." He grumbles, both of his hands now reaching beneath your stomach to hoist you up slightly, his dick reaching impossibly deeper, spearing into you at the perfect angle, fucking you like he wants you to lose all of your energy but not giving you a single moment to catch your breath.

You may not be sleeping now, but it's obvious that you won't be able to get up for days after tonight.

this prompt is my new favourite bedtime story

[swordgrace]

𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘.

༺ aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS: in the aftermath of rook’s rest, you seek aemond out to inquire about his wellbeing. instead, you find him somewhere else — somewhere unexpected. (set after S2 EP4).

༺ FORMAT: one-shot — not requested.

༺ WORD COUNT: 5.2K.

༺ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni) , spoilers for s2 ep4, public sex / risk of getting caught, knifeplay, imbalance of power, rough sex, darkish!aemond, dom!aemond, p in v sex (unprotected), oral (f!receiving), fingering, brief tiddy sucking, groping, biting / marking, hair pulling, choking, fucking right in front of the iron throne, inaccurate high valyrian, brief dirty talk, lots of aemond’s inner thoughts, breeding kink if you squint, aemond is extremely possessive of the reader to an unhealthy degree.

༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: to preface, I am working on requests, this just happened to make its way out of my brain before anything else did. This was inspired by the single shot of Aemond standing in front of the Iron Throne in the S2 EP5 trailer, you can tell how desperate I got as soon as I saw it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! There will be a Jace fic dropping tomorrow, too! ❤️

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄 — a seat of power constructed by Aegon the Conqueror in the aftermath of a bloodied war, forged from thousands of surrendered swords.

In the days of Aegon the Conqueror, it was said that the Throne was sometimes too high to climb, a jagged labyrinth of blades melded by dragon’s fire, a throne fit for any ruler. Men impaled themselves upon one another’s blades for it, turned against one another, endless betrayals and treacheries ensued all for the sake of the endgame, to see themselves upon the Throne.

Brother turned against brother — you didn’t expect anything less from Aemond, whose desire to exact revenge boiled just beneath the surface. The Battle at Rook’s Rest had proved a slaughter on all fronts, between the decimation of both Cole’s armies and the castle they laid siege upon, to the death of the Princess Rhaenys and her dragon, Melys.

Whispers spread through the Red Keep in regards to King Aegon’s condition, bones crushed beneath the weight of Sunfyre, who plummeted from the skies in a ball of fire. His flesh was scorched, half of his body melded to the Valyrian Steel armor he wore, burnt beyond recognition.

If they were to be believed, King Aegon was gravely wounded — and if a fatality ensued, who would then bear the mantle of King?

A restless dusk gripped King’s Landing as the surviving soldiers from Cole’s armies arrived at the city gates, King Aegon amongst the wounded. In what you considered to be a mass panic and hysteria, Maesters rushed to diligently attend to their King, who seemed to be meeting a simmering grave inside of his armor — it would be his tomb if they weren’t careful.

Merely a handmaiden and servant to nobility, the antics of your masters didn’t interest you — you were wholly preoccupied with your own survival and self-preservation, amongst other things. It was said that Aemond and Vhagar had swarmed the battlefield and come to King Aegon’s defense, but by the time they had, Aegon had been swallowed by dragonfire.

Part of you had difficulty believing that Aemond truly attempted to save his elder brother, given Aemond’s embittered sentiments. Your relationship with the Prince had transcended all bonds of propriety — and if anyone were to find out, they would likely have your head for sullying his virtue.

Nevertheless, as chaos swarmed around you, you knew exactly who to seek out. Queen Alicent had little desire to be hounded by handmaidens while her eldest son struggled to hang onto his own life, something you could understand. Instead, you made for Aemond’s chambers, the route embedded into your mind.

You sought him — all of him. His lilac hue, a maelstrom of forlorn emotions, and his silvery tresses, like cascading silk, embedded themselves into your mind. His cunning countenance and beguiled expression were like hot-iron brands cast onto your thoughts, tormenting you with each waking moment.

As you stepped closer to the Throne Room, no longer guarded by Kingsguard, you saw the great door ajar — no King atop the throne. You wondered if he would live, Aegon — a drunken, broken man who preferred his cups and whores over ruling — or if he would perish.

You knew who would sit the Iron Throne, should Aegon fall.

A heavy darkness had befallen the throne room, fitting for the many tragedies, like the gloom of a shadow haunting all who dared to enter. Curiosity gripped you as you stepped inside, a place well above your station, yet you wondered if there was anyone inside.

The doors remained shut, save for the one you slipped through, the gap slim. Flickering braziers provided some illumination to such a grandeur hall, but it seemed so dour and lifeless without the presence of the day, without subjects fluttering in and out. Instead, it provided an ominous sense of dread, as if luring those inside with dark omens and false promises.

A familiar crown of silvery tresses stood at the very center, before the throne — he didn’t need to turn around for you to know who it was. He seemed entirely unscathed by the battle at Rook’s Rest, hands carefully folded behind his back, posture poised and dignified.

Aegon’s dagger flashed within his right hand, clutched tightly at his side. You wondered how he had acquired the blade so swiftly after a tragedy — but you knew. You had always known of Aemond’s nature, of his restrained resentment towards his brother, the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Aemond.” Your voice reverberated throughout the throne room, carrying a fair distance as you closed the door behind you. The studded mahogany groaned in protest, yet bent to your will as it closed with a noisy thud. Admittedly, you were surprised to see him here, and not in the comfort of his chambers.

He didn’t move, rigid and still as you quietly approached, dresses sweeping across the smooth stone beneath you. His violet hues remained transfixed upon the Iron Throne, a throne that would soon be his, if fate favored him. So many swords, so much strife and conflict that forged such a chair — so much bloodshed.

Aemond often wondered what the weight of the crown would feel like upon his brow — and even then, he knew he would wear it better than Aegon ever could. He had stood by the wayside for far too long, learned in his studies and a talented swordsman, wondering if it would all have some reward, some payoff.

Now, his opportunity was swiftly approaching.

Whatever anger he’d often kept leashed, it had struck out, like the bite of a poisonous viper, sinking into its prey with all its bitter viciousness. It was the same tempestuous rage that had lashed at Lucerys Velaryon, and now it had struck his brother, Aegon the Magnanimous.

A stupid sobriquet for a stupid man — a drunken fool. Aemond would simply pass it off as an unfortunate accident, with Aegon carelessly stepping into the line of fire whilst tangling with the Queen Who Never Was. Swift decisions had to be made on his part, his brother a victim of such action.

Any silver-tongued words that would placate his Mother, he was prepared to let them fly. Aemond knew enough to know that the consequences would be slim, and those of true action and cruel intentions would take Aegon’s place — men like himself.

Soft footfalls fell across black stone, and you called his name again, like a siren’s song luring the sailor into deeper waters. “Aemond.” It was saccharine, dripping with genuine warmth that the Prince was simply unaccustomed to.

The unexpected lull of your voice broke his fixation, and he looked to you with a gaze full of desire. It was a farcry from the frustrated, despondent man you’d encountered days prior following the incident at the brothel. There was a newfound fire within his eyes, a confidence restored — a sense of triumph.

Admittedly, you were rather perplexed by this invigorated side to Aemond — that wild gleam within his lilac eye only seemed to grow in intensity as you approached him. “I heard the news of what happened to your brother,” You began, pondering his reaction. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

The admiration he had for you only seemed to blossom, knowing that you were simply keeping up appearances for his sake. Aemond’s mouth tilted into the ghost of a smirk, feigning melancholy despite the truth of his own actions. “It was a horrible thing, what happened to the King,” He uttered, glancing toward the throne. “I wish for his swift recovery.”

A facade was a mere understatement — you could almost taste the smug bemusement that rested within Aemond’s tone. The slight quirk of his mouth, the manner in which he spoke — his sympathies for Aegon were nonexistent.

“As any good brother would.” You replied, stepping closer until you stood before the Iron Throne, gaze falling upon the thousands of swords swarming the seat, blades of many shapes and sizes. You wondered about the people behind each sword — who swung it, what their lives must’ve been like.

A brief hum escaped Aemond, who observed you hawkishly as you approached, violet hue greedily drinking you in as he had many times before. You had stood so faithfully by his side, never admonished him for the brash actions taken against his family, never deemed him pathetic for what happened at the brothel.

He cared little for your station, little for your status as a lowborn — if he sat the Iron Throne, he could have whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter if you were a commoner, Aemond could envision you as his wife, a Queen — no longer bowing to the whims of greater men and women who cared little for you.

“Did my Mother dismiss you this evening?” Aemond questioned, digits tense around the pommel of Aegon’s knife — now his. Seeing as he was no longer fit to carry the weapon, it was only just that it pass to his brother, his next of kin.

“She did,” A gentle exhale escaped you, one that allowed you to maintain your composure. Being in Aemond’s presence seemed to make you dizzy with desire with each passing moment — not a new sentiment, but an intoxicating one. “I was coming to find you, to see if you were well after the battle.”

Shamelessly, Aemond became quite aroused at the thought of you wandering about the Red Keep with the single-minded desire to see him. His blood ran hot after the battle — the surge of adrenaline did not lessen in your presence.

His jaw tensed slightly as he appraised you, taking a step closer, brazenly closing the distance between you both. He could smell your perfume, the warm bouquet of flowers and a touch of honey. “How thoughtful.” His voice dropped to a low purr, dripping with the first inklings of lust.

Your breath hitched, words turning to ash upon your tongue as your fingers curled into your dress. Aemond enticed you in ways that no man had before — and he saw you, a woman beneath the gowns of a servant. The hammering of your heart within your chest had stirred something powerful — your want for him consumed you like a tidal wave.

Before you could utter his name, he descended like a starving wolf to kiss you, open-mouthed and bleeding lust. You shivered, wanting to coax him into returning to his chambers before things became heated. His hand dropped to seize your hip, hauling you closer to him until no space was left between your bodies.

You reciprocated his kiss, able to hear a faint growl of approval building up within his throat. It was fiery and hot, with little concern of who might see you. Aemond was growing emboldened, brazen knowing the power he now held within his grasp.

“We should return to your quarters,” You whispered, a strained whimper tearing past your lips as Aemond kissed your jaw, sucking at the flesh of your neck. “Aemond, we can’t — not here.” Your breathy pleas fell upon deaf ears — what better place to claim you than before his new throne?

“We can,” Aemond murmured, pushing your tresses aside as he claimed your throat, laying waste to your flesh in his rabid kisses and hungry bites. “The rest of the Keep is preoccupied.” His reassurance was threadbare at best, but you were beginning to slip off of the deep end, fingers clawing at his tunic.

“What if someone sees?” Fear trickled into your voice, a subtle fright that Aemond found to be enticing. You worried for your own skin — he could understand that. A moan escaped you as Aemond nipped at your jugular, squeezing at your hips.

You failed to comprehend that he would protect you, shield you if needed. He did not need to justify his obsession for you, just as Aegon never offered any justification for his nightly whore hunts. Aemond seemed quick to soothe your worry, hand clasping at the nape of your neck.

“Then I will have their head,” His delectable purr dropped an octave, scratching the itch within your head. “You needn’t worry, ñuha dōna. I can do whatever I wish.” Aemond assured you, a great fire burning within his lilac hue. The leather of his eyepatch concealed the listless sapphire beneath.

He only needed to serve himself — his family cared little for him, and the world was often against him. He looked forward to facing Daemon whenever the time came, should he be bold enough to challenge him. Aemond dismissed it all — Aegon, his mother, Criston Cole — the only thing that mattered were the both of you.

Aemond’s streak of possessiveness had grown into something uncontrollable, a festering desire to keep you close, spiraling into obsession. You were many things to him, many things he coveted for himself.

After a moment of hesitation, you decided to make things tempting for Aemond, loosening the bodice of your dress. His breath hitched, the noise subtle if one wasn’t observant enough. He seized the back of your head once more, hungrily pressing his lips to yours, consuming you in another heated kiss.

A dour portrait of dusk hovers around the Red Keep, its shadowy tendrils slinking into the throne room. Only moonlight and dying braziers are your guide, and Aemond is at his prettiest whenever he’s touched by the silvery rays. It strikes his narrow visage, paints his silky tresses in pale light.

He is closer to a god now than he is a man — fortunately, you were willing to return to religion if it meant that Aemond was who you worshiped. As much as you liked to believe it was the foundation of your relationship, he thought of it alternatively, the roles reversed.

Your digits slip beneath the overcoat he wore, marred by speckled dirt and brimstone. His broad, sinewy shoulders are concealed by his tunic, and he seems vastly overdressed compared to you, still wearing your servant’s clothes. Aemond had gotten you a dress to wear with him before — you never wore it otherwise.

There is a certain intensity in the way he kisses you, as if each embrace might be your last. In the aftermath of a battle, you understand such sentiments, given the fate of the King and the Princess Rhaenys.

A growl reverberates within the depths of his throat as he pries his mouth away from you, gesturing toward the flight of obsidian steps that ascend toward the Iron Throne. “There,” He uttered, more of a command than a suggestion. “Lay down.”

A shudder rolls down the length of your spine, followed by an onslaught of goosebumps that snake across your flesh like a fever. Your stomach churned with anticipation, filling with the sensation of sloshing heat, burning brighter as each moment passed.

Without question, you step toward the throne, noticing the sharpness of some blades, the dullness of others. You find your footing upon the last step, feeling Aemond stalk closer. The rustling of his belt makes you shiver, only to find the steely chill of the Conqueror’s knife pressed against the dip between your shoulder and neck.

Aemond closes in behind you, caging you against his chest, like a predator swarming hapless prey. His narrow nose brushed along your soft tresses as he dragged the tip of the knife from your shoulder to ribcage. “Shall I cut this from you?” He uttered, digging the Valyrian steel into the fabric of your dress.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you brace yourself for the bite of the knife, for the unruly tear of fabric, but it never comes. Instead, Aemond’s mouth pressed vigorous kisses against your neck, hand seizing you by the throat.

“Ao sytilībagon naejot nyke.” Aemond purred, feeling you turn within his grasp. Desire oozed between you both, an onslaught of carnality soon to follow. His lilac hue flickered over your countenance, drinking in your beauty with unrestrained rapture. You belong to me.

From what little High Valyrian you’d learned in the time you’ve been with Aemond, you strung enough of the sentence together to know what he meant. “Iksan aōhon.” A soft whimper emerged from between your parted lips, noticing the way his pupil dilated with amorous intent.

I am yours.

A flame of obsession roared within his gaze, enough to burn you alive where you stood. Aemond reveled in your submission to him, drank in your devotion — a devotion that would prove fruitful, should he ascend the throne. The tip of the knife prodded into your sternum, and you absentmindedly leaned forward.

Aemond captured your mouth once more, laying claim to you — his paramour. There was nothing sweeter than your desperate mewls and reciprocated passion, the succor of your mouth, the saccharine scent of your perfume.

The both of you descended to the floor, icy and stony as it prodded into your back. He knelt between your legs, gaze momentarily flickering between the shadow of the Iron Throne and your mesmerized visage. Aemond kissed you again, nipping at your lower lip before rucking up your skirts, pushing them toward your hips.

With one knee, he bullied his way in between your thighs, breaths heavier, wrought with anticipation as he lowered his mouth to your collarbone. In one smooth tug, he loosened your bodice, wrestling with the coarse material as he buried his face into your silky skin.

The throes of passion filled the air — short gasps and labored pants accompanied by the constant shuffling of fabric. “Aemond,” You moaned, watching as he bit the leather of his glove, removing the garment in one jerk of his head. Flesh to flesh, he moved to drag his digits along your weeping slit. “Aemond.” Urgency crept into your voice, strung-out by need.

“Hm,” His cajoling hum sent shivers down your spine, heat sloshing around within your stomach. Arousal pooled between your thighs, nectar sticky and gathering swiftly. “What a delicious gift you’ve given me.” Aemond uttered, slender digits continuing to stroke at your cunt, his pace agonizingly slow.

Lifting his fingers to his lips, he let them rest upon his tongue, gathering your juices to taste. A satisfied grunt of approval escaped him, one that made you meld into the floor. It was an uncomfortable surface, yet any thought of discomfort dissipated the moment Aemond’s lips pressed against the inside of your knee.

Instinctively, your hands flew toward his crown of silken tresses, digging in with an ironclad hold. Aemond released a low hiss of satisfaction, pressing hot kisses along the inside of your thigh. He dipped lower, breath fanning across your cunt.

His tongue raked hot embers across your aching core, delivering a series of deliberate strokes that were sure to make you squirm. Aemond preferred to savor you, consuming every drop of your nectar as if it were the finest of wines.

“Aemond!” Your voice rose above the cacophony of lewd noises ensuing below, noisy enough to reverberate throughout the throne room. It worried you, the potential of someone finding you with the Prince-Regent between your legs, but pleasure began to outweigh logic.

His name felt sweet from your mouth — if Aemond had it his way, he would make you say it a thousand times over. The sharp bridge of his nose buried itself into your mound, cock twitching within the leather of his breeches.

Another breathy moan left you, stomach pooling with a rush of molten heat. It oozed between your legs as your arousal fell upon the Prince’s tongue, much to his delight. He did not waste a drop, mouth traveling wherever he pleased, lapping at every inch of your cunt.

The Iron Throne overshadowed the both of you, a jagged mess of swords surrounded by dusk. Slats of moonlight trickled in from the stained glass above, falling across his visage, violet hue sparkling with lust. His lips greedily kissed at your clit, causing your hips to lurch forward.

“Look at me.” A pointed demand spoken from an edged tongue, one that commanded your attention without wavering. With a strangled moan, you turned your head to him, furthering the fire within your belly. Your doe-eyed stare locked onto him, lips falling apart.

As your eyes flickered over his poised features, your hand tightened within his tresses, coaxing him closer toward the apex of your thighs. Aemond wasn’t sly at suppressing the delight he felt in that moment, greedily lapping at your cunt.

You watched, enthralled by the ministrations of his mouth, the flick of his tongue, the tantalizing efforts made to draw you back in. His features were carved like marble, by the steady hand of a sculptor — godly, in the best way possible.

Aemond hoped that your blissful cries would alert the guards — perhaps, all could bear witness to his carnal delights, know that you belonged to him and him alone. His lips crawled to a sluggish pace, made only to torment you as he peppered feather-light kisses against your clit. The lack of pressure nearly made you wretch, digits curling into a fist.

Every fiber of your being felt as if it had been set ablaze, washed within the fires of his affection. He knew your body well, as well as he knew his own, tongue dipping to have a taste of your core as it lightly jutted against your entrance. You whimpered, the noise pathetic and pitiful, yet overwhelmingly eager.

“Please,” You moaned, breathy and clawing for some shred of release, canting your hips forward. Aemond retreated, just enough to leave you writing upon the steps before a sly chuckle reverberated between your thighs. His torture of you was playful and intimate, intended to make you beg. “Please, Aemond!”

How could he deny you when you sounded so sweet?

With a soft hum, Aemond returned to devour your cunt, drink from the nectar that oozed between your legs. His hands situated themselves against your thighs, nails digging in enough to leave behind traces of angered crescent marks.

The heat between your legs intensified, arousal stinging your bones, body bent underneath Aemond’s will as he lapped at your core. His lips were accompanied by his spindly digits as two fingers prodded at your entrance, feeling the crescendo of your whimpers before sinking themselves into your tight cunt.

Squelching intermingled with that of brazen pants and your myriad of moans, a cacophony of lust that permeated the throne room. It felt sinful, to defile the steps of a seat of power, but that shame swiftly contorted into bliss — it felt good.

It felt good to be desired, for Aemond to feel not an ounce of regret or remorse for being with you or for the carnage his actions wrought. The darkness that festered within his eye only grew, once a flickering shade, now growing into something sprawling.

At last, his lips pursed around your clit, stimulating that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your back arched from the stone, thighs rattling like falling leaves as he brought about your ruin. His digits viciously pumped in and out of your cunt, preparing you for the act that was to follow.

His tongue lashed across his lower lip, not wasting a drop of what sweetness you provided him with. Aemond’s mouth hastily abandoned your cunt, yet the curling of his fingers seemed to make up for the loss of pleasure. You felt his wet lips purse around the pebbled peak of your breast, suckling like a greedy babe.

Aemond’s senses drowned in desire, cock throbbing within his trousers, desperate to be inside of you. It wouldn’t be much longer now as he bit and kissed your chest, letting the work manifest as love bites, evidence of his carnal want for you.

“I need you, Aemond. I need you inside of me.” The suddenness of your words left him reeling, a snarl stirring within his chest as his teeth gnashed into the soft flesh between your breasts. You longed to feel his cock lay waste to your cunt, for him to fuck away his anger, his frustration.

Hastily, his hand flew to the ties of his breeches, loosening the threads of leather. You grabbed the front of his tunic, enough to effectively grab his attention as you pulled him in for a hot kiss. Passion bled through, and you could taste yourself upon his tongue as it danced with yours.

The warmth of his cockhead prodded against your folds, already slick with your cum and his own. It was messy, an entanglement born of desire, of the will to possess one another — a claim eternal. Aemond’s hand snaked toward your hip, the other keeping himself afloat before he snapped forward.

His cock invaded your cunt without any sluggishness to it, the deliberation gone entirely. A wild shimmer glistened within his eye, a domineering edge that seemed to wrestle with itself. Aemond wanted to submit to you, but in the wake of Rook’s Rest, adrenaline and a desire for power simply wouldn’t allow it.

As he fucked you like a hound, as Aegon had colorfully put it, Aemond could see you seated beside him, a crown upon your brow, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. A commoner, crawled from dirt and from nothing, into his arms — into a seat of power that none would dare challenge.

Fantasy consumed him, making him mad with lust. He wanted to crawl beneath your flesh, reside there, hear your heart hammering within your breast. He seemed pleasantly surprised when you claimed his mouth, your tongue advancing past his parted lips.

With your skirts having fallen to the swell of your hips, you hitched one leg around him, hand clawing at his back, between his shoulders. “Aemond,” You moaned, overwhelmed by his barrage of erratic thrusts. His stamina was something to witness as he kept a rather vigorous pace. “My King.”

A low growl stirred within his throat, a stark warning not to continue with your current line of thought. Aemond bit at your lower lip, prompting you to moan into his mouth, but you surprised him again when you reciprocated. Things were intense, far more fiery than they ever had been before.

Battle made him hot — such a sensation wasn’t aided by your presence, intensified tenfold. With Aegon wasting away inside of his chambers, steel melting into his flesh, swarmed by flocks of Maesters, Aemond felt no remorse — none at all as he fucked you before the Iron Throne.

He felt no remorse when he ordered Vhagar to burn his brother, he felt no remorse when he brought you into his bed — and he would feel no remorse when he ascended the throne and made you his Queen.

His cock furiously battered away at your cunt, the lewdness of flesh and intermingled breaths being the only sounds that mattered. That lilac hue of his studied your countenance, the devotion and rapture that rest upon it, your complete and utter joy. Aemond had been blessed with the loveliest creature — you.

The stretch you felt as Aemond invaded your nethers was a pleasant one, your walls tight around his length as he continued to fuck you. Face to face, chest to chest — there was no room left for deception, nowhere left to turn to. With a groan, Aemond kissed you yet again.

“Kesan mazverdagon ao ñuha dāria.” I will make you my Queen; he growled into your ear, biting at the shell, the act enough to make you whimper. He filled your cunt with his cock, the only one that it would ever take. In the heat of the moment, he bit at your neck, hand gripping your thigh so hard that it was bound to leave bruises.

Darkness swallowed the hallowed halls — braziers flickering out completely, leaving only moonlight. Even through the silvery haze, Aemond’s face remained a picture of living perfection, his brow creased with concentration.

The fervor of his pace began to slow, cock throbbing with an onslaught of arousal, one that flooded his body with waves of bliss. He wasn’t neglectful of your needs, swiftly placing a hand between your bodies, thumb rubbing circles around your clit.

Heavy footfalls of guardsmen resonated from outside of the sealed doors, a nightly patrol, prompting you to shiver from worry, but Aemond did not stop — and he wouldn’t. His blazing eye bared down upon you, glistening with the sheen of lust, of obsession, a man starved of the love and devotion he so desperately chased.

Your lips felt swollen, a byproduct of Aemond’s biting, of the many shared kisses that had turned into hunger. You were ravenous for him in ways that you had little knowledge of, scraping the surface of what desire truly meant.

Silky, pale tresses fell through your digits as you threaded them within his hair, gripping it in fistfuls as you continued to kiss him until every wisp of air was stolen from your lungs. Aemond did not relent, continuing to adopt a rhythmic pace of fucking you, cock halfway out before he thrust forward again and again.

As the both of you approached the precipice, falling into a white-hot abyss, you could hear him murmuring something in High Valyrian, strings of sweet praises and compliments. His thumb continued to circle your clit even after you had your release, milking his cock with an onslaught of your nectar.

Aemond grunted, forehead nudging against yours as he snapped forward one final time, cock sheathed inside of you as he found a warm place to spill his seed. The recklessness of it was of little consequence to him — an herbal tea could remedy it, yet the thought of filling you with an heir became tantalizing.

Not yet — not now.

If his seed were to take, it would sow discord across his house, and there was enough of that already. Aemond huffed, gathering his composure as your whimpers dwindled into soft pants. His claws sank so deep into you, talons wrenched into your heart, your body, everything.

He placed a kiss upon your brow, a subtle gesture that reminded you of his lingering duality. Aemond pulled himself out of you with an onslaught of stickiness, a mess that would only be remedied by a long soak in the bath — something he would need you for.

Your chest felt tight, both from exhilaration and the intensity of it all. As you adjusted your skirts back into place, Aemond gently coaxed you to your feet, pressed close against you as he stared at the throne. “Perhaps, once I ascend, we will have to make use of the throne.” His salacious purr made you shudder.

“There is no law forbidding us from acting upon that now,” You challenged, and Aemond had to restrain himself from acting upon such a lascivious impulse. For as coy as you could be, you were just as lustful as he was at times, a quality that he greatly adored. “Your Grace.”

As much as the teasing title seemed to provoke him, Aemond grabbed your hips, lips twitching into his familiar smirk, a near-permanent expression. “Aemond,” He corrected, pressing a kiss against your jaw. “For now, I will need assistance with drawing a bath.”

The Throne’s harrowing shape cast its shadow as the both of you abandoned the dark halls and into the light of Aemond’s chambers.

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not attempt to steal or translate my works onto other platforms or claim it as your own.

[vifilms]

Dude I keep thinking of that farmhand/cowgirl Abby thing where you’re cuddling and her belt buckle gets imprinted on the inside of your thigh *sighs dreamily*

suggestive content, eighteen+

farmhand!abby is my fucking girl. can you just imagine her just spooning you, back from plowing the field and her body is just so exhausted, a lack of energy finds home over her restless body and all she wants is to hold you in her arms and she does. everything about makes her feel right at home but the. you’re like um no i need to see her pretty freckled face and those gorgeous blue eyes, even if you love the way her burly bicep is cradling your neck. throwing your leg over her strong waist, nothing but a shirt of hers and a pair of panties and the cool metal chills you to the bone — it’s not what you expect — but you welcome it with open arms. the welded home state on the buckle wedges into your high and abby grins when you slightly yelp, not expecting the intrusion. you cling onto her, arms thrown around her neck, pulling her closer. “you alright, darling?” but her grin is entirely mischievous. hoping to elicit such a reaction out of you, with sweet and sugary lips, pink as peaches, finding the apple of your cheeks before she makes her way to your mouth, locking your lips in hers until your minty breath is saturating her tongue. simply, you can’t get over how delicious the oversized buckle feels against your skin and instantly your mind drifts to where else it could feel this good. “of course i am, abs. nothing a sweet girl like me can’t handle.”

[iamnotoriginalphil]

A Study in Possession (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Rio returns, looking to cause more trouble, but you refuse to let her break something that isn't broken.

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: Student/teacher relationship, power imbalance, toxic relationship, age gap (all 18+), marking, discussions of exhibitionism, mentions of bondage, possessiveness, jealousy, swearing, oral (R giving), praise kink, mentions of face sitting, hair pulling

Some days, a restlessness seemed to take root in your bones. It spread through your veins, ensnaring you, turning your insides to mulch if you didn’t do something about it. Pacing circles around Agatha’s living room, you were hoping to wear yourself out.

She reclined on the sofa, watching you, blue eyes intent as they followed you around the room. Her chin rested on her fingers, delicate and distracting and it only made the itching under your skin worse. Every pass by, you let your fingers trail over her shoulders, again and again, until you thought you might be smudging the outline of her.

“You’re wearing through my carpet, pet,” she said, after the umpteenth pass.

“Sorry,” you said, pausing until your bones ached with the need to move again.

“Shall I tire you out?” she asked, fingers curling around your wrist.

A flash of heat, burning through you, leaving the taste of ash on the back of your tongue. You lingered, fingertips brushing over her lips. She nipped at you, a smirk unfolding over her face.

“I can put you to rest,” she said, voice lowering into a soft hum, “you won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“I don’t think I could stay still for long enough,” you said.

“So I’ll tie you up until you can’t move.”

Her lips brushed over the pulse point in the wrist she still held. Looking up at you from under lowered lashes, she let her tongue flick out, tasting your skin, feeling your life thrum. You trembled but the burning, the ache, the gnawing in your bones would not quiet itself, even as you throbbed for her touch.

“Maybe I should go for a walk,” you said.

“After,” she replied, “if you can.”

Her hands grasped your hips, pulling you closer. Pushing up past the sweater you’d tugged on that morning, her fingers pressed into your skin. You went, willingly, knees falling either side of her hips. Her kiss was slow, maddeningly so, taking her time until you were vibrating in her lap. She chuckled, drawing away from you.

“I like you like this. You’re so impatient,” she said.

“Agatha,” you whined.

“I’m going to take my time with you. Do you think I’ll drive you mad? I’m game to find out if you are,” she said.

Her lips trailed down your neck, lingering, stretching out the time as she sucked a hickey into your skin. You whimpered, fingers digging into her shoulders, hips rutting against her, finding no friction. You couldn’t stay still, not with the ache and the throbbing and the absolute overwhelming need for more of everything.

“I could spend hours, right here, before I even touch you,” she murmured.

“Agatha,” you whined again.

“You don’t like that thought, pet? You don’t want me to take as much time as I want with you? You’d rather I rush through this and not drag out every single moment of pleasure your body can handle? You want me to be a common whore, just bang one out and leave you be?” She did not sound happy, “if you’re looking for a quick fuck, I can send you out to some frat party.”

“Don’t want a frat boy,” you said, “want you.”

“Then you’ll stop complaining,” she told you.

She returned to her place on your neck, open mouth kisses pressed into your skin. Her hands were slow as they ran up your back, nails dragging down your spine. Over and over again, maddeningly slow. You thought your bones might shatter from how slow she was being. You tried to stay still, to be good for her, but it hurt so much.

“Do you want to tell me what’s got you so worked up?” she asked into your skin, thumb brushing the underside of one breast.

“It’s just.” You hissed when her teeth sunk into your flesh for only moment, “I’ve been sitting too long.”

“Oh?” She sounded amused.

“I keep rewriting my introduction for you and you keep asking for changes and so I’ve spent days sitting and writing and not doing much else except when you…”

You lost your train of thought as she nipped at your collarbone.

“When I do what, pet?” she asked.

“When you do things like that,” you replied.

“I thought you liked when I did things like that,” she said.

“I do,” you sighed.

Your fingers moved from her shoulders, winding themselves in her hair, long and wild and free. She grinned at you, the kind that felt dangerous. With racing heart and throbbing need, you pulled her into a kiss again. She let you control it for a while, taking what you needed from her, before reminding you she was in control. She was always in control. You liked her being in control.

“So what’s the problem?” she murmured against your lips.

“I think I need a change of scenery. Some fresh air. Just to blow the cobwebs away,” you said, breathless and needy and trying to drag her closer.

“You want me to fuck you in the park?” she asked, a touch of meanness entering her voice. She was mocking you. It shouldn’t have had you grinding down, trying to find any hint of friction you could.

She laughed, tipping her head back, away from you. You whimpered, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

“You are full of surprises, pet. I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” she said.

“That’s not what I meant,” you muttered, but the heat between your legs said otherwise.

Wasn’t there something exciting in the thought of Agatha having her way with you in front of an audience? For the entire town to see that you were hers? That she was yours? To so publicly claim one another?

Maybe you were an exhibitionist when it came to her, and her alone.

“Even if it was, you know I can’t do that,” she said.

“I know.”

She couldn’t be caught with you. Plausible deniability and all that. You wanted her but you didn’t want her to lose her job over it. It would remain a secret until you’d graduated and then she could publicly say you were hers.

“But know I would, if you really wanted me to, and the circumstances were different,” she said.

You clenched around nothing and she seemed to draw joy from the needy little noise you made.

“But if you want to get out, you should go take that walk,” she said.

She pushed you off her lap, onto trembling legs, disappointment a sharp slap. Your fingers were still wound in her hair, keeping you close, caught in one another’s orbit.

“Go on,” she said, “you were so desperate to go for your walk. I might be able to get something done without your constant pacing.”

“I thought you were going to tire me out,” you said.

“Don’t pout.” Her thumb ran along your lower lip, “it’s not as endearing as you think.”

“Will you tire me out when I come back?” you asked.

“We’ll see,” she said.

You lingered another moment. You tugged on the ends of her hair until her lips curled up into a small. Her hands were gentle as they shoved you away.

“Go on,” she said, but there was an undertone of fondness in it.

“I’ll bring you back something pretty,” you said.

It wasn’t until you were out of the room that you heard her say, “you’re the only pretty thing I need.”

With the flush of pleasure still on your cheeks, you put your shoes on and walked out the door. You shoved your hands into your pockets, hurrying your steps, turning your feet towards the park. You’d walk laps, imagining being there with Agatha, knuckles deep inside of you, uncaring of who was watching as she fucked you in the open air.

It was oddly empty for a Sunday afternoon. No children running about, no families picnicking, no dog walkers. A few people were by the pond, looking at the ducks, but for the most part you had the park to yourself. Your pace was fast as you walked, trying to force the jittery feeling out through your fingertips.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You startled, stumbling, almost tripping over your own feet. A hand shot out, catching you. You looked up, dark eyes sweeping over your body.

“I don’t suppose Agatha is with you, is she?” Rio asked.

“No,” you said.

“Good. Then us girls can have a chat.”

She placed your hand in the crook of her elbow as she continued walking along the path. You went with her, not sure if it was a good idea, not sure if Agatha would be okay with it. Actually, you knew she would not be happy when she found out. And she would find out, even if you didn’t tell her. But you would, especially knowing that she would want to know. And that Rio was sure to tell her if you didn’t.

“Tell me, is she a good mentor?” she asked, slipping into perfectly pleasant conversation.

“Wonderful,” you said.

“I’ve been listening in to some of the students. The rumours about her are pretty intense,” she said, “she doesn’t scare you? Intimidate you?”

“No,” you replied.

“Really?”

You chanced a look at her, finding her head tilted and interest in her eyes. You shrugged. She lent closer to you.

“You can be honest with me, sweetheart. I won’t tell,” she whispered, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“She doesn’t scare me,” you said, firmer, refusing to give her any ammunition after last time.

“Do I scare you?” she asked.

You turned your head, nose brushing against hers. Your breath caught. It was so easy to see why Agatha would find herself entangled with this woman. There was something about her that was like a blackhole, pulling you in regardless of how you might feel.

“No,” you said but you whispered it and you weren’t sure the single word rang with truth.

“It’s not true, you know,” she said, leaning away from you, letting you get away with your lie.

“What isn’t?” you asked.

“Whatever she told you about me,” she replied.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” you said, sniffing.

Her chuckle was soft and she shook her head.

“I knew you were a liar but even I’m not sucker enough to believe that,” she said, “I know Agatha. She’ll have told you to stay away from me. That I’m evil and I do awful things. That I can’t be trusted.”

“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think,” you snapped.

“Oh, no, I know her perfectly,” she said and you didn’t like the possessive tone she’d adopted, “you’re the unknown in this equation.”

“Agatha knows me,” you said, stubborn and refusing to let her think that their history gave her the upper hand.

“I think we can be honest with each other,” she said, “you will be honest with me, won’t you?”

“I don’t even know you,” you said.

“Let’s get to know each other then,” she said.

You hadn’t noticed as she’d steered you towards one of the more isolated parts of the park. Trees kept your portion of the path from easy view, the twist and turns giving it the facade of privacy. Her hands landed on your shoulders, pushing you back until your spine hit the rough bark of a tree.

“We’re going to be best friends by the end of this,” she promised you.

“What do you want?” you demanded.

“To have some fun.” Her eyes travelled over your body, tongue dragging over her lower lip, “we can have fun together, right?”

“I suppose it depends what kind of fun you’re talking about,” you muttered.

“The kind that leaves you feeling satisfied,” she replied, voice turning into the rasp of a whisper.

“I don’t think I want that kind of fun with you,” you replied.

“Really? You haven’t thought of me once?” Her face drew closer, “you haven’t considered what to would be like to play with me? You wouldn’t even have to hide it with me.”

“I’m not a toy,” you said, echoing Agatha’s words.

“Prove it.”

You shoved at her shoulders, but she didn’t relent, forcing you further into the bark of the tree. You gritted your teeth, jutting your chin out, refusing to be cowed by her. She had no power over you.

“You were so accommodating last time,” she said, “where’s that girl gone?”

“I know better now,” you said.

“She has done a number on you, hasn’t she?” Her head tilted to the side, “has she made you feel special?”

“It’s none of your business how she’s made me feel,” you snapped.

“You’re not the first, you know? She has a pattern. She finds a pretty little thing interested in witchcraft, invited them to study underneath her, and then she gets them underneath her in every single way,” she said, her words a sharp blade that you were sure was intended to slash at the vulnerable places inside of your psyche.

“I didn’t expect her to not have a history,” you said.

“Would you like to know our history?” she asked.

Damn her, you did. But you weren’t going to ask. You were never going to ask anything of this woman when Agatha so clearly did not like her.

“You do,” Rio said, delight, colouring her words.

“Agatha will tell me when she’s ready,” you said.

“Or I could tell you right now. No more curiosity. No more wondering exactly what we are to one another. I could tell you every single thing she and I have done together in excruciating detail,” she said, drawing closer again, “have you imagined what we’ve done to one another?”

You slapped a hand over her mouth, not wanting her to continue. Of course you’d thought about it, but each time it left with you with the taste of something sour on your tongue. You weren’t stupid enough to assume there hadn’t been anyone before you, but you hardly wanted her ex back in her life. You didn’t want to think about the two of them in bed together.

Something growled in your chest, and all you could focus on was how much you never wanted anyone else in bed with Agatha ever again. She was yours. Your’s and no one else’s. When you returned home, you’d make sure she knew.

A wet tongue ran over the skin of your palm. You made a noise, snatching your hand back from Rio’s mouth, wiping it dry on the denim of your jeans. She grinned.

“I could show you,” she offered.

“I’ve already said no to playing with you. What makes you think I would change my mind?” you snapped.

“Wouldn’t you like to know all the ways you could please Agatha? I’ve catalogued so many ways,” she said.

“I’m doing perfectly well on my own,” you said, jutting her chin up.

“You’ve got fire. That’s good. I’m sure she’ll enjoy dousing it,” she said.

“What do you want from me really? Because I know it’s not for a quick fuck against a tree,” you said, tired of the game.

“Don’t I?” Her smile was predatory.

“No. You want something and I want to know what it is,” you replied.

“Fine.”

She took a step back, finally releasing you. You crossed your arms over your chest, waiting, impatient and uncaring of the other woman’s wants. Her eyes swept over you, assessing, different from last time. It was as if now, without the facade, she was looking at you as a threat.

“You’re not the first student she’s been with,” she said.

“So you’ve said,” you replied coolly.

“Has she told you about Wanda yet?” she asked.

“Whatever we talk about is none of your business,” you replied.

“So she hasn’t.” She nodded her head like it confirmed everything for her, “you should ask. I think you’ll find her answer fascinating.”

You tipped your head to the side, eyes sweeping over her, trying to work out what she was hoping to gain from this, what the game was. You knew the game with Agatha, enjoying it, knowing that if one of you won, you both did. This time, this woman, was a mystery to you.

“You think her answer will make me run away,” you said, the words slow as you tried to work it out.

“I think you should know what happened,” she replied with a small shrug.

“You want me to leave her. I heard you. You think I will and then she’ll fall back into your arms.” You took a deep breath, “it doesn’t matter what she tells me, I’m not leaving her. Not ever.”

“The naivety of youth is endearing. You really can’t think of anything that would make you leave?” she asked, drawing closer again.

“No.” You were giving her nothing.

“Even if she’d done something really bad?” she asked, still approaching.

“No.”

“Even if she’s murdered someone?” she asked.

You laughed, the idea preposterous. But she remained serious as she watched you with increasing interest.

“Has she?” you asked.

“Would it matter?” she asked in return.

“You have no idea, do you?” you said, realising for the first time that you had the upper hand.

“No idea about what?” she asked.

“That there’s nothing about her that could make me leave,” you said, “I love her and I’m not going anywhere. So say what you need to say and do what you need to do, because if it’s a fight for her you want, then you’ve got it. She’s mine, and I’m never giving her up.”

Her lips ticked up into a half smile. You could feel the vibrations of anger in your body, coursing through you, determined to let this woman know that you weren’t the fluffy little bunny she seemed to think you were. You had claws and teeth and a fighting spirit. And something to burn for.

“Quite the performance,” Rio said, “and I think you really believe it.”

“You’ll see. Come graduation I’ll still be here and she still won’t want to see you,” you said, hardening your voice, your eyes, your stance.

“I could just report this to the administration,” she mused, “you’re hardly being subtle.”

Her thumb ran over the hickey Agatha had left on your skin not even an hour ago. You let her, arching your neck to give her better access, wondering if seeing it burned in her gut the way you knew it would in yours.

“That’ll just hurt her more than me,” you said.

“But she’ll blame you. Pretty little thing, unable to keep her mouth shut about taming the great Agatha Harkness. It shouldn’t surprise her. Not all toys are smart,” she said.

She pinched at the bruised skin, your hiss making her smile. You smacked her hand away, glaring.

“You wouldn’t risk it,” you said, “or else you would have done it already.”

“Perhaps.” She shrugged, “or maybe I’m just waiting to see how this plays out.”

She stepped away from you, tugging something out of her bag. A thick book thumped in the dirt by your feet. The same leather bound tome that Agatha had sent you to the library for all those weeks ago. You were hesitant as you picked it up.

“Give her my regards,” she said.

You brushed off the front cover, fingers lingering on the filigreed title. When you glanced up, she was gone, leaving you in the shadows with a book on witchcraft and a sense that something was coming that you weren’t sure you were ready for.

Whatever feeling had compelled you to walk had left your body, leaving it cold and desperate for something else. You turned your feet towards Agatha’s house, needing to see her again, needing to run your fingers through her hair. To whisper your devotion into her skin and remind her that you were a permeant fixture in her life.

You were nothing like the other students who had all left her behind.

You shoved the door open, dropping the book on the hall table and throwing off your shoes. You called her name, following her response into the kitchen.

“Feeling better, kitten?” she asked, thrown over her shoulder, focused on the drink she was pouring for herself.

“Yes,” you replied.

You wound your arms around her waist, lips finding their home on the skin of her neck. Wet kisses on her skin, tongue darting out to taste. She chuckled, neck arching towards you, giving you the access you craved.

“You’ve returned in a good mood,” she hummed.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled into her skin.

Your hand skimmed over the hem of her shirt, slow to push under it, seeking out her skin. She lent back against you, letting you hold up her weight. Your lips found their home on her skin, hands stroking higher and higher. She allowed you to indulge in her for a long moment.

“Rio found me in the park,” you admitted, hand climbing to cup one bare breast under her shirt.

“She did?” she asked, a growl in her voice.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, thumb brushing over a nipple, feeling it beginning to harden.

“And what did she want?” she asked, head tipping back onto your shoulder.

“To scare me off,” you replied, “she threatened to tell people about us.”

“And what did you say?” she hissed as you pinched at her nipple.

“That I’m not going anywhere.”

Your teeth sunk into the juncture of her neck and her shoulders. The pleased noise she made could have been due to your words or your actions, but you felt her arch into your touch. You were determined to leave your mark on her, the way she always did to you. You wanted to paint her skin purple and blue, sign your name over her body, make it so she couldn’t look in the mirror without thinking of you. You wanted to consume her, to sink beneath her skin and never return, to go up in a flash of flames and turn you both to ash.

“Are you trying to prove yourself to me?” she asked but she sounded breathless.

You didn’t answer, busy making a mess of her. Your other hand was running along the waistband of her trousers, fingertips ghosting in a teasing manner. You listened as her breathing grew heavy, revelling in the fact that you were doing it. It was all you. You were making her feel this way with nothing but your lips and your teeth and your hands.

It was an honour.

You took your time, playing with her body, tasting her, feeling her begin to melt into you. Your fingertips dipped into her trousers, finding the lace of her panties waiting for you. She sighed your name, so soft in her voice, and you wondered how much longer she would let you get away with this. You had to assume not much longer.

“Answer me, pet,” she said.

Her hand pressed to the back of your head, holding you in place, fingers tangling in your hair at the nape of your neck. Your tongue ran over her skin, her body shuddering against yours.

“All I’m proving,” you murmured into her skin, “is that you’re mine.”

Her laugh was more of a cackle, loud and braying, shaking her whole body. You hid your smile against her neck, hand pushing into her underwear. Her laughter choked off when you ghosted your finger over her clit, collecting her wetness on your fingertip.

“You really think that, do you?” she asked, breathless, almost a moan.

“I don’t think anything. I know you are,” you replied.

You brushed over her clit again, feeling her hips jump towards you. Rolling her nipple, you enjoyed the way she arched into your touch.

“You sound very certain,” she said, but her fingers were tightening in your hair, and you knew you were right.

Your fingers teased her entrance, enjoying when her hips pressed back against you.

“Do you want to see what I’ve learnt while I’ve been studying under you, professor?” you asked, keeping your mirth at bay.

“I think it’s time for your practical exam,” she replied.

With a finally tweak to her nipple, you retracted her hands from her bare body, gripping her hips. Softly sucking on the skin of her neck, you pressed your thighs together at the thought of what you might find there later.

You spun her, pressing her into the counter, finally kissing her the way you always wanted to. Tongue in her mouth, moans muffled, hot and dirty. You could spend the rest of your life doing exactly that. Her fingers in your hair were pulling, pain blooming over your scalp but all it made you want was to devour her.

Sinking to your knees, you looked up at her from under lowered lashes. She stared down at you, fingertips stroking over your cheeks. You felt breathless, knowing this goddess of a woman before you was all yours. She tilted your head up.

“You may begin.”

You helped her step out of her trousers, dropping them to the floor beside you. Your tongue dragged over your lower lip, looking at the wet patch on her panties. All of that because of you, for you, yours in ways that had your mouth watering. You pressed her hips to the counter, sucking on the vulnerable skin of her inner thigh. She groaned, a rumbling sound from her chest.

You sucked a matching hickey into the other thigh, tracing over it with soft fingertips as pride filled your chest. She chuckled but didn’t argue with you, letting you drink your fill. That chuckle broke off as your tongue pressed against the damp patch in her panties, tasting her on the silk. You hummed, placed a chaste kiss over her hot cunt, then dragged that scrap of lace and silk down her legs.

She glistened in the afternoon light. You ran your hands up her legs, soft skin warm in your palms. Dragging your gaze back up, you found her already looking down at you, eyes smouldering, lips curled in a smirk.

“My good pet,” she murmured.

You shivered, loving when she called you that. Her fingers in your hair gave a sharp tug, reminding you that you had a job to do. Leaning forward, you let your breath ghost over her folds, feeling her fingers tighten.

Your tongue gave a soft kitten lick, barely there, more a graze than a proper touch. Her body shuddered.

“Go on,” she said, “don’t be a tease.”

You tasted her properly, letting your tongue explore her folds. She pressed you closer. With a strong grip, you tugged her leg over your shoulder, pressing her more insistently against the counter. She moaned your name, soft and guttural and so beautiful. You groaned, her hips bucking against your mouth.

She tasted exquisite. You’d spend hours between her thighs, doing this, if only she’d let you. Days lost to making her cum over and over again with nothing but your mouth, not letting a single drop of her go to waste. She rocked against your mouth, heel pressing into your spine.

Wrapping your lips around her clit, you felt her tremble. The sounds she was making, the constant praise falling from her lips, the small gasps and moans, were addictive. The sweetest music you could imagine came from her. You shivered, sucking harder, wanting to see how loud you could get her. There was no reason to be quiet in her own home. No one was about to barge in on them, catching them doing something they both knew they shouldn’t. You wanted to unravel her.

Slowing, you lapped at her entrance, nuzzling against her cropped curls. Her fingers were harsh as they tugged, trying to press you closer again, commanding without words. You chuckled, tongue tracing the letters of your name over her clit, soft and gentle and definitely teasing.

“You’re a devil,” she gasped.

You hummed into her cunt. Her body was taut, almost trembling. You gave in to her, sucking on her bundle of nerves again, letting yourself drown in her. Her hips rocked against you, almost as if she wanted to grind against your face. You’d have let her, if you were in a different position, if she was above you instead of standing.

Later. You’d convince her to sit on your face later.

Your finger teased her entrance, the other hand gripping her thigh tightly. You wondered if you could bruise her as easily as she seemed to bruise you. If your hand prints would linger on her skin long after this moment was done. You hoped so. Some physical sign that you’d been there, with her, like this. That you had been offered the honour of bringing her so much pleasure.

You set a slow pace, wanting to draw this out, wanting to make sure you knew how to care for her body, that you knew how to make her lose her mind. She didn’t complain. You glanced up, finding she had rucked up her shirt with her free hand, playing with her own tit as you feasted on her. You’d never seen something so hot as Agatha Harkness touching herself, bringing herself pleasure while you tasted her. If you could, you’d take a picture of this view, paint it, hang it in all the art galleries of the world. There was nothing so beautiful. You were obsessed with this view.

You whimpered, muffled against her. Lazy eyes dragged down to you, hooded with pleasure. Her chest heaved, arching into her own hand, tweaking one of her nipples. You curled your fingers and the curse that fell from her lips was the most gratifying thing you’d ever heard.

You pressed her more insistently against the counter, tasting more, pressing deeper. She threw her head back, moaning like it was her job. It was a symphony in your ears.

When she came, it was with a guttural cry, loud in the kitchen. You kept lapping at her, not wanting to waste a drop of her arousal. Her fingers tightened in your hair, and you growled, refusing to leave that place between her legs. Her hips jumped towards you, and she groaned your name. You didn’t care, losing yourself in her.

“Pet,” she said, breathless and wanting and so very turned on. You knew her well enough to know what she sounded like when she was turned on.

You ignored her, fingers curling. Her hips were rocking again, without her say, and those same fingers that had been trying to drag you away were now pressing you closer. You swirled your tongue over her, almost certain you could feel her heartbeat throbbing in her cunt.

You weren’t soft this time, demanding her orgasm. Thrusting your fingers into her roughly, you kept twisting, curling, forcing her to give you more. Her head was tipped back, hand clutching the edge of the counter as she tried to keep her balance. You weren’t helping, only caring about how to get her to fall apart. A reminder that you knew her body so well.

Who cared if there had been others before you? Who cared if Rio thought she had a chance to be back here? You were the one in her home, in her bed, between her legs. You were the one she was choosing. And you were going to make it so she would never be able to forget you. You were going to burn yourself into her skin until you were as much a part of her as she’d become of you.

She clenched around your fingers, a cry ripped from her throat. Your grin was hidden against her, still buried between her legs. You cleaned her up, your tongue careful, and yet still you wanted more. When you brushed over her clit, she hissed. You nuzzled against her hip, a gentle kiss to her skin doing more than words could.

“C’mere, kitten,” she murmured, her fingers in your hair pulling you.

The ache in your knees was worth it as you climbed to your feet, lowering her foot back to the ground. She tugged you into her, uncaring as you crashed against her body, forcing her against the counter again. Her hand caught your chin and she kissed you, tasting herself on your tongue, a filthy groan muffled by your mouth. Her fingers dug in, nails scraping across your skin, ignoring the slick on your chin from your hard work.

“How’d I do?” you asked, breathless, curling your arms around her waist.

“Passed with flying colours, kitten,” she said.

She brushed your hair out of your face, so soft with you. You nuzzled against her, enjoying the feeling of her hand on your cheek. She gave you another kiss, softer, sweeter, turning you into goo as sunshine melted through your veins.

“There might be some truth to your statement,” she whispered, lips brushing yours, still sharing the same breath as you.

“Which one?” you asked, pulling her closer.

“The one about me being yours,” she replied.

Your smile stretched, overtaking your face. She shook her head, but her own lips were tipped up in a small smile. Tugging out of your hold, she slipped from between you and the counter, pulling her shirt over her head. Your mouth grew dry, eyes sweeping over her naked body. The bruises you’d left littering her skin had you shivering with pleasure.

“Come along, pet,” she said, walking out of the kitchen, “it’s time for your oral exam.”

You chased after her, not willing to be late to that particular exam.

[grimesbunny]

when you sleep

cw dubcon. somnophelia. unprotected piv. dirty talk. prison era. secret relationship. not proofread idc.

the exhaustion festering inside rick’s bones takes the form of something more heady once his eyes adjust enough in the darkness to make out your sleeping form. clad in just his shirt and your cotton panties, rounded, plump flesh peeking out just enough to feel purposely teasing. it takes everything in him to constrain his groan, cock quickly filling the front of his blood stained pants. you’re none the wiser— turned away from him on your stomach as slow breaths cause your chest to rise and fall rhythmically.

gently, he reaches over your figure, brushing your wild hair behind your ear to get a better look at your pretty face. the lack of ponytail or braid leads him to presume you fell asleep on accident, probably succumbing to restlessness after having been waiting for him all night. that thought is what has him reaching down to palm at his bulge.

“my sweet girl.” he coos lowly. his voice sounds gravelly to his own ears after having spent the majority of the journey back to the prison in silence. “so beautiful, aren’t you?”

it’s as if a magnetic force brings his lips to your cheek, his calloused hand to your hip. cant help himself.

the bed dips under the weight of his knee, sliding it where one of your legs is perched off to the side. his warm hands feel you up innocently at first, sculpting the dips and crevices of your pliant body. reveling in how soft. . . how alive you feel. “missed you so much. missed touchin you.”

his inhibitions falter the longer he sits there, hovering over you. breathing you in. he lets his hips fall slightly to catch the friction of your ass against his hard on.

“god.” he laughs out in disbelief at himself. “feel that baby? feel me throbbin for you in your sleep?”

he looks up for a reaction, any indication that you’re somehow consenting and enjoying this, because he doesn’t know if he can just stop here. he pins his hands on either side of you for leverage as he bucks into you. the side of his brain nagging at him for how perverted he’s being is overtaken by the part that’s chanting desperately for more.

“drive me crazy. make me need you so bad, don’t even have to try.” he grits out the misplaced blame, his thrusts becoming more deliberate. he’s chasing his own high, using your unconscious body to get off. humping you like a dog in heat.

one particularly rough thrust jostles you slightly, making you shift in your sleep. rick doesn’t stop, not even when a soft groan slips out of your mouth. not even when you blink awake.

“rick? is that you?” the mixture of confusion and innocence in your voice only spurs him on, his breathing growing heavier by the second.

“shhh, it’s me, baby.” he places another kiss onto your cheek, soothing your hair out of the way in attempt to comfort you. maybe coax you back to sleep. his lips trail down to your shoulder, the snap of his hips never faltering. “so soft, honey. how’s it that in a world like this, you still feel so fuckin soft?”

your next words sound more clear, more awake. you turn to look at him in the dark. his hair falling over his forehead, still fully clothed and unshowered from the run. the lustful glint that has turned his eyes almost completely black. “what’re you doing, rick?”

“i know, i know. fuck.” he’s sympathetic, even as his hand travels up your shirt. as it trails along your stomach, as it gropes the fat of your breast. you gasp, your own hand coming to weakly circle around his bulging bicep. as if you could ever fight him off. “can you feel how hard you made me?”

you don’t respond verbally, because rick doesn’t count whimpering into your pillow as a response, but you push your ass back to meet his thrusts, still meek from sleep. he groans out, long and throatily and low, a proud grin etched onto his lips.

“there’s my girl. d’you miss me too?” his breath tickles the shell of your ear, followed by a rougher kiss to your jaw. “waiting for me to get home and take you?”

you nod as best you can in your position, letting yourself bask in the pleasure of having him pressed against you. you’re leaking, soaking the spot where your groins connect. rick has to reach down and feel it.

“sure feels like you missed me.” he chuckles, cocky. the rough pads of his fingers dip into your panties from behind, sliding along your slippery folds. “fuckin’ say it.”

“missed you s’much, rick.” you whine through delirium and pleasure, bucking down into his hand involuntarily. “was getting worried.”

“poor thing. gonna make it up to you.” he hums absently. too lost in the feeling of you. your puffy mound, the scent of your hair. he dips a thick finger into your spongy entrance. “look at that, always open up nice and easy for me, huh? could slide right in.”

you instinctively clench around him at that. your thighs threaten to close— they would if it weren’t for the way his knee has rooted in between them. “yeah? want me to stuff this little pussy?”

you manage to squeak out your confirmation and he removes his hand, but the sound of his belt unraveling behind you is enough to make you whimper in anticipation.

“yeah, you need it just as bad as i do.” he states. he takes a pillow from beside your head, lifts your hips with one hand and slides it under you in one swift motion. it’s a position he’s taken you in several times, but neither of you have gotten used to just how deep it sends him. and it’s one of those nights where he needs to be as deep as possible, breach uncharted parts of you. “don’t you?”

you feel his spongy, thick tip press against your entrance in the dark and squeeze your eyes shut. he’s painfully hard at this point, and it takes every last bit of resilience from rick not to shove himself inside and pound your cervix until it’s bruised. of course, you would take whatever he gives you without complaint. but he’s not a barbarian.

“oh— mhm. need you, rick.” you confirm, though it feels like you’re speaking through cotton with how exhaustion and pleasure are playing tug of war inside you. it’s far from a lie. you need him in more ways than one, much like how the rest of the group needs him.

only this part of it, the one saved for when the two of you are alone, spoken through silent glances and subtle touches throughout the day— this is sacred. just between you.

“you’re gonna get me, honey.” he knees your thighs farther apart to make room and eases his way in. his ego soaks up your gasp at the intrusion, the stretch.

it winds him too, sends him toppling forward and landing with his hands pinned on either side of you for stability. he’ll never not marvel at how warm and tight you are inside, sucking him in like you never want him to pull out. it’s almost gotten you pregnant more than a few times.

“yeah, that’s it.” he groans, careful not to wake anyone in your cell block. the heavy weight of him envelopes you from behind, pressing you uncomfortably into the prison mattress. your bones are sure to be sore and bruised from it tomorrow, but all you can focus on is his voice, his breathing, his scent— his cock. filling and stretching you so nicely. curving enough to slot inside your stomach.

he’s grunting out strings of praises into your ear — “so fuckin’ perfect. takin’ care of me…” — and all you can manage out are mindless mewls, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. he doesn’t warn you before he cums inside, just fucks into you rapidly until you feel the warmth blossoming in your abdomen. it momentarily snaps you out of your entranced state, and you attempt blink back at him.

“rick, did you—”

“couldn’t find condoms, baby. i tried.” he sounds completely unfazed. he kisses your cheek one more time before he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. “go back to sleep.”

and with that, he rolls over next to you. it’s not seconds later that you hear snores falling from his mouth. you try your best to ignore the feeling of his come leaking out of you and close your eyes as you snuggle up next to him, knowing he’ll be out of your bed long before anyone else wakes up in the morning.

[byllsbytch]

Cumming home to you <3

Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Ok, it’s pretty shitty, I’ve written this in 30mins, n im too lazy to write smut. (Besides I’m shit at it on a good day.)

here ya go cuties.

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Nicholas Alexander Chavez comes home late to his gf after a long day of filming, after many attempts of trying to get freaky they decide - fuck, we’re both too tired.

Warnings: Girl none?

I’d sat on the couch watching a cooking show, it was the most entertaining channel on at the time and seeing as the night was drawing to a close, I needed something easy to watch. It was my first week in our new apartment and Nick certainly was working his ass off for it. I numerously checked the time on the microwave in the kitchen and watched as the minutes passed.

I pulled the blanket up higher to my chin, slowly fluttering my eyes trying to keep them open. A tough inner battle. Being alone in the house it wasn’t hard to keep them open, when alone I’m always restless, however I was overtired. A wave of sleepiness hit me harder causing me to slump to the side of the couch. The words from the television became unintelligible and I began to drift away.

It felt like it had been two minutes before I woke to see Nicholas had finally gotten home and stood over me, pecking my cheek and playing with my hair.

“Come on princess off to bed.” He whispered. I struggled to open my eyes and glanced at the time again.

“2am! Nicholas! Are you ok baby?”

He smiled at my concern.

“I’m fine babe, just let me get you to bed.”

I mumbled before nick swooped me up in his arms and carried me to bed. I stretched and sprawled out in the centre of the bed before groaning in satisfaction.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so tired.”

“You’re fine my darling girl. I’ll just go for a shower and I’ll be right back. I’m sorry for coming home late and waking you.”

He walked into the bathroom the next room over and turned the water on.

-

The steam began to snake its way into the bedroom. After a few minutes I managed to pull my dead weight up off the bed and dragged my body to the bathroom doorway staring at Nick’s physique behind the shower glass.

I slowly began to pull off my shirt and kick off my pants. I heard the water turn off and Nicholas got out drying himself then wrapping the towel around his waist. He finally noticed me standing in the doorway in my old, ratty underwear. He bit his lip before coming close to me.

“What are you doing babe? You ok?”

I smirked at him, placing my hand onto his abdomen. He looked down to my hand and smiled closing the gap even more.

“I was going to get into the shower.”

“Oh damn it!” He joked, “Come on baby, let’s just go to bed it’s late.” He lent over and kissed me on the forehead.

I looked up at him and gave him puppy eyes a slight frown.

He looked away. “Oh come on! I feel bad that I woke you up.”

I placed my hand on his cheek before pulling him into a kiss.

He leant in with no hesitation and tangled his fingers into my hair. We both closed our eyes in each other’s embrace as Nicholas began to make his way from my lips down my neck. I took my hands behind my back before undoing my bra. He kept all his attention to my collar bone leaving sloppy kisses. He pulled away sensing the warmth from my breast and stepped back to glance at them. My forearms rested in his, he stared in complete adoration and love.

“You’re so gorgeous and perfect.”

He placed his hands onto my chest before going back into the kiss. I moved my hands down to his towel and gently tugged, teasing him.

“Mhmm” He hummed, nodding in the kiss.

I pulled it off before he lifted me up and carried me back to the bed.

He placed me down delicately before crawling over me.

He was out of breath and visibly excited.

“How was work handsome?” I asked keeping my hand on his face his stocky frame above me.

He stopped puzzled, already panting from the little action.

“Yeah it was alright baby. Long and boring but it’s ok because we’re about to wrap up filming soon. Tell you what got me through it, you. I couldn’t help but think about you all day. I’m so happy it’s over so we can be in this moment right now.”

I felt a grin grow wider across my face.

“Especially the snap that you sent earlier, that REALLY helped me wind down.” He chuckled, winking.

My eyes widened as I gasped, slapping him playfully on the chest, “Nick! Oh my god!” I couldn’t help but laugh and he soon joined in with me placing his forehead against mine.

“You know what this is nice. How about we just do this.”

“Oh thank god!” I said, “I’m so fucking knackered.”

I rolled onto my side and felt Nick press himself up against me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his head into the crook of my neck.

He smirked at my reaction. “Oh ok! You came onto me remember!”

I smiled at him, “Well it’s hard not to.”

“You wanna know what’s hard?”

I turned my head back to look at him grinning before rolling my eyes.

We had some more pillow talk while he continued to spoon me.

“We’re definitely on in the morning, you know that?”

“Oh yes!” He triumphantly pumped his fist.

[leqonsluv3r]

PROMPT 21 WITH OG RE4 LEON PLEEEASEEE

false god

prompt: “i love the way you look with my fingers inside you.”

— re4 leon x reader

contains NSFW content, MDNI, 18+

masterlist taglist prompt game

he had been at this for hours it seemed, it was either his face or his cock or his fingers. you had been dragged to the edge over and over again, your body shaking from the overwhelming release.

you didn’t know how much more you could take if you were honest, the push and pull of pleasure on your body was starting to take its toll.

but he was determined to make you forget all about the other guy who was hitting on you at the bar. he was determined to make you scream his name until you were a shaking and trembling mess.

if you had any rational bones in your body right now, you’d be upset with him being so possessive, so jealous and toxic over nothing. but he had such a sweet way to remind you that you were his and his only.

you couldn’t even tell how many times you’d fallen apart at this point. your body shaking and your chest rising and falling fast. he was giving you a break for now, tracing his fingers along your spine as you lay next to him in the bed you two shared.

you felt him press a kiss to your shoulder, a tender gesture to remind you that he wasn’t using you, that he loved you. he just needed you to know that you were his, that guys couldn’t just flirt with you.

“you okay, baby?” he asks in low timbre against your shoulder as he peppers kisses across the blades, running his hand over the curve of your hip.

“yeah, i’m okay. i’m just tired now, you fucked the life out of me.” you laugh softly as you feel your eyes strain to stay open. your body sagging against the caress of his fingers, a teasing but loving touch that made you melt every single time.

he tsks and shakes his head with an almost feline smile, “don’t you dare fall asleep. just one more, okay? one more.” he says in a daring taunt, the tone you’ve heard a million times before. he could see the exhaustion on your face but he was ready to go out with a bang before he let you sleep.

no pun intended.

you groan in somewhat annoyance and pleasure as he presses kisses to your neck, his hand that was on your hips traveled up your stomach and to your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples, making you keen and whine.

you squirmed uncontrollably like you had truly no control of your body anymore, leon did that to you. he was the only one that had ever made you feel so desperate and restless with just a simple touch.

he smirked against your neck as he played with your breasts, your back arching against his chest as he gently kissed up your neck and nipped at your earlobe a little.

you were already worked up all over again, didn’t matter that your clit was sore and swollen, or your breasts hurt from the constant arousal. you were already all wound up again, ready for leon to fuck the life out of you.

it was almost ridiculous. your mind was fuzzy and tired but your body was awake, ready to play.

leon knew this, he wasn’t an idiot. he had been with you long enough to know when you were aroused, ready for more. your body and mind would never tire of him, it made him very possessive deep down. he knew he was the only one that could touch you like this, get you all hot and bothered, make you a whining mess just for him.

it made him so aroused, so painfully aroused.

his cock was already hard again, never in his life had a girl had an effect on him like you did. it was bizarre, it needed to be studied by scientists.

“such a sweet girl, i love you.” he whispers huskily against her ear as he drifts his hand down from your breasts, cupping your wet pussy. you nod into his touch, “i love you too…” you whisper out.

his touch on your pussy, it’s making you keen, making you want everything all over again. even though the exhaustion hummed deep within your bones…you felt like you were all of a sudden alive.

like he was an injection of morphine, his touch aiding you to feel more alive just for him. it was addicting. he knew your body like a map and he was tracing the roads he knew better then anyone.

he stroked his finger over your clit, causing your head to fall back, your lips parted as you moaned softly. he chuckles lowly, “so fucking easy underneath my fingers. only for me.” he said whispers against your ear.

you moan as he continues rubbing at your clit, making you shake and shudder, your body still pent up from the previous orgasms. “only you…fuck…” the only one who could get her like this, this many times was him.

he adjusts so that you roll onto your back, his fingers rubbing over your clit and making your back arch underneath him. he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, swallowing your moans.

you can’t even focus on kissing him back, your heads a mess of his touch and the euphoria your feeling in your body. he slides his fingers down inside of you, his mouth moving down to your jaw.

“f-fuck…leon…i can’t…” you struggle to even get out words between whines and whimpers, your body and your pussy on two different wavelengths. you feel like that coil inside you is gonna snap, it’s going to be huge. you can feel it in your belly, “yes. you can babygirl.” he nips at the skin below her ear.

you whimper and keep writhing underneath his touch, your body practically vibrating as he pumps two fingers in and out of you. you feel like your whole body is on fire, you don’t know if you can last much longer. but his words, his encouragement is making you try for him.

you want to come for him.

he’s pulled so many orgasms out of you tonight, your body is pulled tight like a rubber band. he looks down at you though, his fingers pumping in and out of you. you look like the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen before.

your breasts covered in sweat and all puckered with arousal, your beautiful lips parted and pink and all swollen. he didn’t think you could ever be more gorgeous then you were right now, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

he can’t resist the words of lust that spill from his lips, “i love the way you look with my fingers inside you.” he says huskily as he watches your hooded eyes and how you moan, small pants of air leaving your mouth.

you could feel that coil inside of her become more tighter and tighter at his words, the way his fingers curled inside of her and made her fall apart into a shaking mess.

he presses a kiss to your lips, swallowing your moans as you fall apart and gushes over his fingers with one more curl of them. you moan loudly against his lips, your entire body shaking.

you look up at him with a small grasp of your hooded eyes. looking up into his eyes, you feel him remove his fingers from inside of you and trail them up your body. he trails them up over her stomach and to her mouth, “suck.” he says in a gentle but firm tone.

you don’t hesitate, licking out at his two fingers and sucking them into your mouth, tasting your release on his skin. “so good…” he says in a gentle tone, his praise sweeping over you.

you press a kiss to his lips and let him taste you on your tongue. you look up into his eyes, “you still okay? you ready to sleep now?” he says with a small lazy smile as he looks down at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

you nod and yawn a little, your eyes opening and closing sleepily. you knew that he would do this for you only, the previous partners you’d been with had never given you orgasm after orgasm. and given you good aftercare and cuddles afterwards.

you were lucky, so mindlessly lucky.

you would worship the ground he walked on because he loved you and your body unconditionally and that was good enough.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @nic-nat @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @laceycoffins @porcelainseashore @squazmine (interact with the link at the beginning if interested)

[eggrollforyou]

Let me worship you

Ace x F!reader

Word count: 1630

CW: MDNI, smut,unprotected sex, fingering, service Dom Ace, straight up porn with no plot lol, but it's sweet? At least I feel like it's sweet 🤣

A/N: my semester is done! Yaaaay! So I'm celebrating with getting this fic done. Ace has been heavy on my mind lately. I hope you enjoy! Also, as usual, barely proofread.

Likes, comments, reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated. Lemme know what you think!!

The moonlight was shining in through your window. Feeling restless, you got up to open it, craving fresh air. Leaning on the windowsill you inhaled a deep breath of the cool salty breeze, instantly clearing your chattering mind. Closing your eyes, you smiled in comfort. The cool breeze felt good as it carried into your room.

You hear shuffling behind you and a warm hand makes its way to your hip. You feel Ace’s calloused hand gently caress your thigh and wrap to grab the plush of your hip. “Hmmmm, hey, what's up?” you quietly ask.

“Nothing. Just came here to admire is all,” he grins as his other hand goes to your other side, kneading your soft hips and pausing to firm his grip. You lean your back to his chest, breath shortening in anticipation, unsure of what he was doing. After all, you were getting ready to go to sleep. The day taking it out of you, feeling your exhaustion settle into your bones.

His hands travel down further. One playing with the waistband of your underwear, the other groping your ass and suddenly his warm palm reaches underneath you and he presses his hand over your clothed sex. You realize you made the ‘mistake’ of wearing simply an oversized shirt and no shorts that night for bed. Your breath hitches at his boldness and you hear his deep chuckle. “Whatcha doin’?” you whisper breathlessly, his hands exploring your clothed sex and backside. “I'm just appreciating this nice butt,” he replies matter of factly as he playfully rubs his hand in circles with an open palm on your cheek. You hear his grin in his words. “Hmmm, oh really,” you hum in contentment. “Yeah, it's a nice ass,” he smiles as his hand pushes underneath your underwear. His fingers sliding up and down, collecting your quickly building slick. “Mmmff,” you moan, biting your lip. “What's wrong, baby?” he asks, voice dripping with desire and suddenly he plunges two fingers into you, immediately on a mission to undo you.

Pulling your underwear down, they fall to your ankles and he fingers you at a quick pace, curling his fingers. Knowing exactly what it takes to unravel you. He knows your body inside and out- which buttons to push, which strings to pluck, playing you intimately in ways only he knows to get you to sing for him. “Ah! Ace…,” you call out, not sure what to say as your mind goes blank. Your whispers and moans, honey-sweet, making him more ravenous to drive you to the edge. The room is quiet except for your cries and whimpers that Ace tries to draw from you with bated breath.

“C’mere,” he whispers into your ear, hands grabbing your shoulders as he guides you to the bed. You pull your shirt up and as you remove it, Ace lightly pushes you onto the bed. You giggle, landing on your stomach, “W-what?!”

“It's nothing, don't worry about it,” and suddenly, he's climbing on the bed. You feel the mattress dip from his weight on both sides, his body warmth radiating as he gets closer, and suddenly he's rubbing his length up and down your drenched folds. You gasp and he hisses at the contact, “So wet f’me, baby,” he growls.

As you lie prone on your stomach, he inches is cock into you, your breath hitching at the stretch until he's as far as he can go. He grips your ass, massaging you as he slowly drags his cock back to his tip, making you feel every inch and vein. “F-fuck, Ace…please, I need you,” you whimper. “Shhhh, I've got you, pretty girl,” he replies as he slams his hips into you. After that thrust, he picks up his pace, unable to hold onto any semblance of control any longer. Filling the room with the sounds of skin meeting skin and he throws his head back as your walls clench around him. He leans over grabbing the crook of your neck and presses you into the mattress chasing your release more than his own. His other hand pulls your hips off the bed slightly, making you arch as you moan and cry into the bed.

His pace never falters as his body overtakes yours. All you feel, smell, and think is him. “Fuck, Ace, m’gonna….m’gonna cum! Don't stop” you cry out. You feel him twitch as he continues to drag his cock-in and out, in and out- and his grip on you tightens as you hear him moan. And the coil he's been building in your abdomen suddenly snaps as you orgasm. Crying into the mattress as his hips slam into you and your walls flutter. He pulls back and turns you on your back as he litters your body with open mouthed kisses, you feel a pulse of desire every time his hot breath hits your skin. Jolts of pleasure flushing your skin at each contact as you hum in pleasure. He spreads your legs wide and rubs his thumb on your clit making you gasp. His eyes are dark as he watches you writhe in ecstasy from his touch. Your whimpers and moans honey sweet. He lines himself up for just a moment and plunges into you to the hilt, all at once. “Ah” you cry out into his neck as he fucks into you. The once quiet room, again filled with your sinful sounds- his growls, your cries, and the obscene sounds of your slick as his cock works to ruin you. You're gasping as he bottoms out, hitting parts of you so deep, you never thought they'd be reached. And each time he hits that spot, he rolls his hips, making your eyes rolls.

Your walls tighten again and he knows you're close. He presses into you harder with each thrust, pushing you further up the bed. He leans up, bracing over you and you both look down, watching how your body so readily takes him and that coil releases again. You feel your orgasm crashing over you and you fall into it. Tears pricking your eyes as your walls clench him again. “That's two,” Ace chuckles darkly as you're panting, slowly turning into a babbling mess beneath him. He slows down to an aching crawl, watching still where you greedily suck him up.

He pulls off of you again as you're to recover from an even more intense orgasm than the first. He grins, “C’mere. I'm not done with you yet,” as he helps you come to a stand at the edge of the bed. He pulls your back to his chest, wrapping his arms around you possessively. His hands exploring and kneading your breasts. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger pulling more sweet sounds from you as he grinds his length into you from behind.

He uses his knee to spread your legs slightly. Holding your hip in one hand, he grabs your shoulder and forces you into an arch. You're completely pliant to his movements, simply existing, lost in pleasure and desire. He pulls his hand off your hip to fist his cock, coated in your arousal and cum, and presses into you slowly. You press up on your tip toes and suddenly he pulls you down into his length. “Shit, baby, this pussy is fucking perfect,” he mumbles. He's as lost in you as you are in him. He watches your backside as he thrusts into you, watching how your ass shakes when his hips slam into you.

You quickly feel another orgasm approaching as his tip curves into you, pressing your g-spot over and over at this angle. You're quickly unraveling in this position, his hand on your hip, pushing you down to stay flat on your feet and his other hand lightly tightening around your neck. He's gripping your hip so tightly you wonder if it'll leave marks. We he rolls his hips again and this position it's so intense you don't even have the time to tell him you're coming, “F-fuck,” you cry out as your third orgasm takes you and you squirt as he continues fucking into you. “Yes, baby, give it to me. You're being so good for me,” he commands and suddenly he folds you over, pressing you into the mattress again. Your eyes tear up from the pleasure and fall into the mattress as he somehow speeds up his pace. You feel his cock throbbing as his pace becomes more erratic and his hips snap into you harshly, then suddenly he pulls out and fists his cock moaning praises to you as he comes on your ass. You lie there, left spent and breathless as your eyelids immediately get heavy as sleep tries to take you. Ace kisses the back of your head. Gently brushing away your hair as he kisses the nape of your neck, your shoulder, and down your back.

He grabs a towel and gently cleans you up and he lightly presses his fingertip into you, swirling it as he watches your form. You pick up your head, “H-hey! What are you doing?!” you giggle breathlessly. He gives you a look like a kid that got caught with their hand in a cookie jar, “Nothing! I didn't do anything,” he says as he tries to keep a straight face. He adjusts your limp body on the bed and lies down, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You hum in satisfaction, pulling your leg up to rest on him. “That came out of nowhere…but thank you,” you whisper, sleep pulling you closer and closer. “Anytime sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you let sleep take you.

Tags: @shy-writer-999

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[lizzieisright]

My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

power bottom!reader x subtop!Abby

Summary: Abby comes home agitated and asks for a different way to blow off her steam.

Tags: fingering (r and abby!receiving), oral(r!receiving), strap usage(r!receiving), tribbing, face sitting, Abby has to sit and watch as a punishment, light primal play(????), cumming untouched, Abby wears a collar, reader is a little bit of a pain slut, slight degradation (no name calling), begging.

wc: 6.3k

a/n: I was this 🤏 close to writing puppy play with werewolf alpha!abby, I swear

MINORS DON'T INTERACT I'll hunt you for sport 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Abby comes home from her usual “gym rats hangout” with twitchy fingers. You've learnt to notice those things because they signal the same thing to you: Abby is in the mood. 

“Hey Abby.” You greet her from your place on the bed where you've been reading the book Abby recommended a week ago. “How did it go?”

“Pretty normal.” She answers and you note her higher than usual tone: she is not telling you the whole story. “I'm gonna go shower.”

You hum and go back to your book, giving Abby the space she needs when she lies to you about her feelings. She will come and talk eventually, so you're not anxious - Abby has a very complicated relationship with being emotionally vulnerable and you follow her pace in these moments, letting her come to you. 

Abby takes a shower and comes back in her usual joggers and a muscle tee - you ogle her as a dutiful girlfriend should and she smirks at you. 

“Nice to know I don't spend my time in the gym for nothing.” Abby chuckles and you nod, eyes following her movements until she finally collapses on top of you, putting her head on your tits. 

Abby doesn't speak but starts to draw circles on your waist and you sigh from contentment: it's nice. Abby's hands always feel nice, and you tune yourself to her mood and relax, giving her the reins: restless Abby likes being in control, likes being busy and likes to take her mood out on you. 

“Hey um- Can we try something?” This is not dom Abby's voice. Dom Abby is quiet and cold, concentrated, scary even. This Abby is soft and warm, which confuses you for a second as you come back out of your lazy bliss. 

“What's up?”

“I got so pissed at these assholes today and I really want to not think about it.” She admits and you hum again, listening to her. “But I don't want to be in charge.”

You take a second to give Abby's words more precise form in your head. She is not in her usual subby mood, her hands are still gripping you tight, so she is not talking about subbing right now, but she doesn't want to have control...

“So you want me to dom you? But you want to top the whole time?” You finally say.

“Yes.” Abby looks at you with hopeful eyes. “Can we do this?”

You take a moment to think about it. You don't let Abby touch you when you dom her because she is usually in a subspace to escape her daily responsibilities and you decided long ago to spoil her, give her space to do nothing but be pretty. So right now your brain is trying to figure out how to get Abby into subspace by making her work. Ideas pop up in your head fast, and you smile at her. 

“Come here.” 

Abby climbs up and you weave your fingers through her unbraided hair, massaging her scalp before guiding her into the kiss. 

It feels different, having Abby press you into the bed and still maintaining your control over her, but there's really no dominant bone in her body right now. Yes, her sculpted arms are caging your face on the sides, but her mouth is so fucking soft you can help but smile into the kiss. 

“You want to fuck me, princess?” You whisper into her lips and Abby nods a few times. “Use your words.”

“Please let me fuck you.” Weak, weak little baby, you think as you caress her pink cheeks while she looks at you with big eyes. “Let me, please-”

“Bring me your collar.”

Abby's eyes glaze over for a second and she rushes to get the collar and give it to you so you can put it around her neck. You fasten it quite loosely, since you got into a habit of tugging on her collar and you don't want to hurt her.

“That's my good girl.” You tell her and Abby tries to kiss you, but you stop her roughly. “Who told you you can do that?”

“I'm sorry, ma'am.” She says, but you hear her impatience, her eagerness. “Can I kiss you, ma'am? Can I?” Abby's hands are twitching by your sides as she restrains herself from touching you.

“Oh baby.” You chuckle, amused. “Not yet.” 

“Fuck.” Abby whispers to herself, desperate. “Sorry- I'll be good, I'll wait.”

This is interesting. You are so used to Abby giving you all the control, asking you to do something instead of asking if she could do something that it throws you off balance a little. But you take your time and take a breath, then tug on her collar and kiss her. 

Well, you tease her: you make Abby chase your mouth, stopping her from crossing the distance when she almost touches your lips, and you can see a small frown forming. Oh, Abby is not happy with your game. 

“Ma'am-” Abby growls and you smirk. 

“Watch your tone or go sit and watch me touch myself.” The steel in your voice quickly puts an end to Abby's antics. 

“Please, ma'am, let me touch you. I've missed you today.” 

Abby's hands hover over your thighs and you take pity on her: you guide her hands to your hips and let her squeeze them. 

Feeling Abby's hands on your body reminds you of a second reason why you don't let her touch you when you dom her: she just feels so good. Her strong fingers digging into your flesh make your thoughts go out of your head and you take another breath to collect yourself. 

“You wanna kiss me, princess?” 

“Yes, ma'am.” Abby rushes closer, a little bold, like an over excited hound who has zero discipline. She likes it, you realise. Abby likes the game, likes pushing on your buttons. She moves her face dangerously close, testing the limits, her breathing fanning your lips. You put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and she listens, but watches you almost maniacally, tracking your every movement. 

“Oh princess, you’re really impatient.” You say, amused. “If you want to kiss me, you’ll have to earn it.” 

Abby nods.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll do whatever you want.” Abby whispers feverishly as she kneads your thighs. “I’ll be good.”

Seeing Abby so desperate but so determined makes you wet in your pants: it’s a new, more delicious kind of power trip. Abby wants to be active and do everything, but your one light touch stops her. One light touch against 5 '10 built like a brick woman who can do whatever she wants with you if she decides to - it makes you dizzy, to have so much power when Abby is not giving up hers. 

“Use this pretty mouth and make me cum, princess.” You order and Abby’s eyes go dark. She’d manhandle you usually, but right now she is looking at you, waiting for permission, even though her grip on your thighs is strong. You decide to drive her crazy even more and once again you move your face until you almost touch her lips with yours. “My good girl knows what I like, doesn’t she?” 

“Yes ma’am.”

You lick the corner of her mouth and Abby tenses, restraining herself from kissing you. You move your lips to her ear, slightly touching it, and Abby’s hold gets tighter.

“Mark me.” You kiss her under her ear. “Bruise me.” You kiss her under her chin. “Hold me down.” You murmur in a low voice right into her ear and Abby growls, really growls.

“Please, ma’am.” Abby pleads and tentatively tugs on your waistband. “I’ll make you feel so good.” 

You lift your hips up and Abby takes them off in a hurry, throwing them somewhere, not caring. You’re tempted to make her go and fold everything to tease her more, but you can’t ignore your own needs: your clit is pulsing, your skin is on fire, and you need Abby’s mouth on you. 

“Can I take your shirt off too, ma’am?” 

“Go ahead.” 

Abby’s fingers are even shaking a little as she takes your shirt off, leaving you fully naked. Her eyes are devouring you, the obsession and lust overpowering her. She doesn’t waste any time and tugs on your thighs to get you comfortable before she buries her face in your cunt, but you tug on her hair in return, moving her head away.

“What did I tell you to do?” You ask her sternly. “Don’t think just because you get to touch me you can do what you want.”

Abby kisses your thigh apologetically, grazing it with her teeth, and you pet her head. 

“That’s better.”

This is all Abby needs to latch onto your thigh and suck a bruise into your skin while you hiss and grip her hair tighter.

“Good.” You sigh, your voice breaking just a little when Abby moves to the other thigh and bites you, holds you between her teeth like a prey, sinking her canines to cause the pain she knows you like. “Yeah, good girl.”

Abby snakes her arms around your thighs and pins you to the bed - you know you won’t be able to move until she lets you, and it makes you roll your eyes from arousal. 

Abby watches you as she licks her way between your folds, opening you up - your taste weaves the moan out of her and she puts her whole mouth on you, licking and rubbing your clit as you leak on her tongue and sigh so heavy, so pretty above her. 

You look back at Abby and she looks absolutely fucking feral, her eyes trained on you like you're her prey, and you can only smirk at her tauntingly. 

“Big bad wolf, aren't you?” You mock her and grip her hair to push her further into your pussy. “I might get a leash then.” 

The grunt Abby lets out into your cunt and the hold getting tighter signals she likes the idea, and you chuckle before breaking into a moan as Abby doubles the effort and really eats you out. Her devilish tongue destroys you piece by piece, contrasting with the pain of her grip on you as she squeezes your thighs, spilling your flesh between her fingers. 

“You're doing, uh- so good, baby, fuck-” You whimper for her and Abby's brows go up in a pleading manner, as if she silently begs you to cum for her. “Add your fingers.” You order her and Abby listens right away, pushing two fingers inside you. “Fuuuuck..” 

“Can I make you cum, ma'am?” Abby asks in a low voice and you push her head back into your cunt.

“Yes-yes-yes-yes, fucking- give it to me, princess.”

There is a millisecond pause before Abby gets overpowered by her own desires, and then Abby's fingers start to curl inside you violently, almost lifting you up with the sheer force of each curl. Your moans get higher and higher until you're almost screaming on her fingers and her tongue as your orgasm builds up in geometrical progression, taking you out fully. 

You cum, gripping into Abby's hair painfully, clamping down on Abby's fingers as she continues fucking you through your orgasm, lazily rubbing your clit on her flat tongue. You feel like you just exploded, fell apart and can't find your own pieces again after what Abby just did to you. Abby sucks another hickey into your thigh and you melt into the bed, feeling high. 

“Can I get my kiss now, ma'am?” Abby asks, almost smirking at you.

“Spoiled little girl.” You murmur, but motion her to come closer. “Barely did her job and already asking for rewards.”

Abby whines quietly, her previous smug face turning into pleading one again. 

“Ma'am-” She can't argue with you, you have all the power, but Abby is desperate. “I made you cum, I was good.” She begs and you chuckle, caressing her cheek, cleaning your cum from her chin. 

“You fucked my brains out, princess.” You kiss her and Abby moans, turns into mush on top of you, opens her mouth for you, because hearing you say this almost makes her cum in her pants. 

You make out for a while, your wet hot mouth on her soft, warm one, feeling each other with your tongues. You calm down from your high, but Abby just gets more restless. She needs her energy released, she needs to burn through it, and you know exactly how she can do it. 

“Do you want to fuck me with your strap, babygirl?” You tease her, but Abby can only nod. 

“Yes, ma'am.” She gets bold again and kisses your cheek. And then she grinds against you and you can't help your surprised chuckle when you feel the hardness in her pants.

“Oh, you naughty girl. You took it to the shower, didn't you?” You can't help your smile when Abby blushes, caught, hiding in your neck.

“Ma'am, I wanna fuck you so bad.” She admits into your ear and your clit throbs. “Wanna see you cum again.” 

“You're so spoiled.” You scold her and tug her hair to make her look at you. “Straighten up.”

Abby sits up and you take her strap out of her pants, lining it up with your hole, and Abby, naive Abby, thinks she can just thrust into you, but you stop her with your other hand on her hip. Again, it's such a light touch, but it stops her immediately.

“No, you're just going to watch, greedy little girl. You're not pushing inside until I let you.” 

Abby nods and can only helplessly watch you play with yourself using her cock. You run it up and down between your folds, smearing your slick, and Abby watches it glisten in the lowlights of your bedroom. God she wants to fuck you, she wants to make you scream and leak onto the bed, she wants to hear you whimper how good she is, how good she is making you feel, but instead she watches you nudge your clit with her dick. 

You watch Abby's tortured face with a smirk, the soft silicone rubbing you just right. 

“I can cum just like this, grinding against your cock, princess.” You tell her and Abby looks at you, genuinely terrified. 

“Please, ma'am, I'll do so much better for you, I'll make you feel so much better.” She begs and you smile when her hips twitch. 

The relief Abby feels when you nudge your hole with the head of her strap is downright religious. She looks at you, waiting for permission, her fingers lightly squeezing your thighs. 

“Prove yourself, then.” 

You both moan when Abby smoothly slides inside after you coated her dick with your slick. She watches you, how you arch, how your naked body reacts to her, how your tits spill to the sides and your nipples tighten. She sees the shiver cover your skin from how good she feels inside you, and Abby can't stop herself but to go as deep as she can in your pussy. 

“You're beautiful, ma'am.” Abby sighs, her voice trickled in lust, as she thrusts into you slowly, her hips hitting the underside of your ass. 

You moan and tug on her shirt so Abby would get closer, and then you push your fingers under her collar, wrapping them around it, and hold Abby down while she ruts into you, desperately grunting into your ear. 

“So good f’me, princess.” You sigh and then moan when she thrusts into you so hard it makes you move up on the bed, knocking the air out of you. “Fu-ah-ck, shit, you're barely holding on, aren't you?” You tease her with your broken voice and Abby growls into your neck. “Look how you're fucking me, baby. Fucking look.” You growl in return.

Abby listens and tries to move away to see properly, but you only let her go as far as looking between your bodies since you still hold her by the collar. 

“God, ma'am- you're so wet, fuck-” Abby sobs and fucks you hard and slow, hungrily watching her strap move in and out of you.

“You did it.” You say between your whimpers. “Like a good girl.”

Abby scrapes her teeth on your neck, desperate, but you tug her back so she continues watching fucking you while you moan and dig your nails into her shoulder. 

“Ma’am, fuck, please-” Abby pants and looks up. “Can I go faster? Please, I'll be good for you, I'll fuck you so good, please.” 

You pull her closer and kiss messily, feeling as feral as Abby looks right now, bite her bottom lip painfully and feel her hips snap into you in response.

“Go ahead, princess. Make me cum on your cock.” You pant into her mouth and Abby's eyes go dark. 

“Thank you, ma'am.” She tells you in her scary fucking voice and you feel like the power shifts between you for this one second. She places both of her hands by your sides for stability, and you know this is it. You're going to be destroyed. 

The first hard thrust makes you squeak and then there is no break: Abby's pace is unrelenting, her hips are strong and she uses it to her advantage, slamming into your pussy, going so deep on each thrust it becomes hard to breathe for you. You moan and whimper into her ear, scratching her shoulder when Abby hits the spot just right, but you keep holding her by the collar to make her remember who is in charge here. 

“Fuck, unnnhhh, you're so good-” You tell her and Abby looks into your eyes like she can find a proof there, like the noises she fucks out of you is not enough. 

“Thank you, ma'am.” She pants and buries her head into your neck, licking your skin with her whole tongue, lapping at your collarbones. 

You feel animalistic, like both of you are stripped down to your instincts with all growls and grunts that leave both of your throats. Abby sucks on your skin and grabs your hip painfully, pinning you down so she can move even faster, harder, making your cunt squelch with how wet she gets you. You don't cling to her - you grip like a predator grips their prey in their claws, and the desire to hurt, the same desire Abby has in her, makes you dig your nails into her throat. Abby whimpers and gently bites your shoulder, licking her bite right away to soothe you, and she feels how your walls grip her strap, not letting her pull out easily, almost with a pop - you're close, you're so close Abby can't help but moan. 

“Ma'am, would you cum for me? Please, please cum for me-” Abby says into your neck as her hips keep drilling into you: by this point she doesn't care how tight you are, she is going to keep fucking you until you cum. 

“Fuck!” You sob, every movement of Abby's cock making you open up for her. “Fuck, baby- shit, keep going, yeah?” You feel like you are about to cry: it feels so intense, your legs start to shake in anticipation. “Holy shit-” You sob and Abby looks up at you, watching your now wet face with blown out eyes and an open mouth: you look like a god to her. “Baby-”

You squeeze your eyes shut from how much you feel as your orgasm bursts out, dragging you to the pits of hell with white hot pleasure and you can't help the scream ripping from your chest. 

Abby moans involuntarily: seeing you like this while she is in subspace, while she is serving you, is goddamn holy. She feels how her own clit pulsates and the desperation takes over her.

“Ma'am, can I cum?” Abby asks you shyly while she is fucking you through your orgasm, but you barely register her voice, so overwhelmed. 

“You better, princess.” You growl and then squeak as Abby gains her speed back.

The mess of whimpers and grunts gets louder as Abby approaches her orgasm while she is watching you cry from overstimulation, feels your fingers grip her throat, listens to the best sounds in her life and this all trips her over the edge. Abby ruts into you, chasing her orgasm, and moans into your shoulder when it finally hits her. Her hips erratically slam into you and you tug on her hair: the perfect mix of pain and pleasure makes Abby see stars.

You can't help the quiet moans that leave your throat on every exhale: you're still pulsating around Abby's strap, and Abby lies on top of you, making your sensitive skin feel her everywhere, even though she is fully clothed. 

“Holy fuck.” You chuckle, surprised. “Are you okay, babygirl?”

Abby hums in agreement. 

“Tired?” You are gentle now, smoothing Abby's hair out: you don't know her limits in this.. order of things, so you're being careful. 

“No, ma'am.” Abby presses her forehead to yours and you smirk. “Whatever you want, I'll do it.” 

“Yeah? Did it feel good to cum while you fucked me?”

“Yes, ma'am. You're so beautiful when you cum.” Abby looks into your eyes, needy, definitely waiting for something. “Can I kiss you, ma'am?”

You hum and pull Abby into the kiss and she gets bold, kissing you a little too aggressively than she is supposed to, but you let her - she deserves it. She shifts her hips and the strap presses inside you, making you gasp into her mouth. Abby gets excited and presses harder, but you stop her. 

“What do you think you're doing?” 

Abby just looks at you dumbly, caught in the act. 

“Please.” That's all Abby can manage. 

“Please what?” You hold Abby's chin between your fingers, making her look at you. 

“I want to make you cum again.”

You pretend to think, but then you let Abby go. 

“Take your clothes off.” You tell her. 

Abby nods and slowly pulls out of you: you feel your hot slick dripping down your ass and it makes you smile - you like knowing how well Abby fucked you. 

“You see this, princess?” You nod at her absolutely soaked strap. “You see how good you made me feel?” 

Abby swallows, really tempted to lick the strap clean since it has your cum on it, but you asked her a question and she has to answer.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I bet your pussy is drenched as well.” You smirk and Abby blushes while she takes her clothes off. “Come here, princess, and ride my clit.” 

Abby freezes for a second, taken aback, so, “Colour?”

“Green.” Abby says in the husky voice and gets on top of you. She slots herself between your legs and- “Oh my God-” Abby gasps when she feels your hot wet cunt on herself. “Oh my god it feels so good.”

You pant as you look over Abby: her collar is loose around her neck, her hair sticks to her back and her eyes are so wide it is almost funny, and you'd have teased her for this, but Abby starts grinding on your clit and all thoughts leave your head. 

Abby's legs and glutes are strong, meaning she moves fast and hard on top of you, bumping your clits together: she slides so smoothly since you're both soaked and you moan quietly, and the idea comes to you. 

“You're not allowed to cum until I do, do you hear me?” You tell her as sternly as possible and Abby whimpers. 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

You smile at her, mean - you know between the two of you Abby always cums quicker, so you just set her up for failure. And Abby knows it as well, looking at you with pleading eyes and an open mouth as her moans leave her lungs - she hopes you'll be kind to her. But you won't. 

You try to calm down your breathing and hold off your orgasm, even though Abby is moving perfectly: she is fast and her clit brushes over your clit just right. And then you feel how Abby sneakily tries to slow down. 

“Are you tired, princess?” You ask with mock concern. 

“No ma'am.”

“Then pick up the speed and make me cum.” You tell her with the steel in her voice. 

“But ma'am, I'll cum.” Abby whines. “I wanna be good for you, please.” 

“I told you, you don't get to cum until I do. Figure it out.” 

You're being mean to her and Abby doesn't have a choice but to pick the speed again and try to not cum, even though she feels how close she is: she is already twitching when your clit touches hers just like she needs it, and it won't take long for her to fail you. 

And Abby knows you are good at punishments, so she decides to do only one thing she can:

“Ma'am, please, I can't hold it any longer, please-” You frown and slap her thigh lightly, not pleased. “Please, I'll be good, please can I cum now, I'll do anything you want, I can't- It's too much-” 

Abby is sobbing but keeps going, driving herself insane: she can't stop herself from cumming but she also can't stop moving without you punishing her and Abby feels her adrenaline going up at the thought of what you might do when she fails you. 

“Don't even think about it, princess. I said no cumming.” You growl at her and Abby is done. 

She keeps moving pathetically, riding out her orgasm and thinking you will forgive her if she just keeps going even though her clit is pulsing and her slick is dripping down on your pussy, her pace lost and erratic. You move up and grab her by her collar, letting her moan into your lips as you watch Abby ride out her high. You're pissed off and Abby gets the tingles - the fun ones when she is scared of you but she is also absolutely fucking thrilled about what is to come. 

“Oh, this is a bad, princess.” You tell her coldly. You look so calm and collected while Abby is a mess. She can feel her lower stomach quivering from the aftershocks, her hair is stuck to her body and her face is fully red. “I didn't give you permission, did I?”

“No, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am.”

“Sorry is not gonna cut it.” You snarl. “You had the audacity to cum before I was satisfied.”

“I'm sorry, ma'am. Can I make you cum? I promise I will make you feel so good.” Abby pleads, but it's to no avail. 

“No. You fucked up, you won't get to touch me until I let you. Go sit at the edge of the bed.” 

If Abby could whine like a puppy, she would. But she listens and sits where you told her. 

“Give me your strap.” 

Abby perks up with a small hope as she passes you the harness: maybe you will let her fuck you again? Maybe, at least, she will get to lick your cum from the strap? Oh Abby would give anything to just taste you right now. 

But you take the dildo out of the harness and spread your legs, showing Abby your soaked pussy. 

“Hands behind your back and spread your thighs, don't even think about touching yourself. Bad girls only get to watch.”

Abby swallows and does as she is told and just watches as you drag the dildo between your folds, smearing it with your slick.

“You see this? Your cum is all over my cunt.” Oh fuck, Abby thinks. Oh no. She will have to- “Watch how I'm going to fuck it back in and make myself cum, since you were so busy being a brat.”

Abby whines. She can't help it - she is supposed to do it. It's her job to serve you, to please you and make you feel good, and you took it away to punish her. 

“Yeah, I bet it felt nice, not listening to me.” You murmur and moan when you push the dildo inside. Abby watches how it stretches you and her fists tighten, it is supposed to be her. “Can't wait to have your cum inside me, princess. The only good thing from this.” You scoff.

Abby bites her lip to cope with what she is seeing; you pull out and rub the strap on your pussy to collect the slick on her strap just to push back in. Her cum is in you. This thought makes Abby dizzy and desperate: she really considers not listening to this order as well and just- just touch you and taste you. 

“Your cock feels so good.” You taunt her and Abby whimpers. 

“Ma'am, please! Let me do it, I'll make you cum, please-”

“Quiet.” You bark at her and Abby listens. “You don't get to ask for anything. Be grateful you get to watch.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Abby says in a small voice and quiets down. 

You relax and continue playing with yourself as if Abby is not even here - you're concentrated on your own needs right now, fucking yourself with the dildo, feeling how it rubs all over your walls, and it's not enough now. So you lick two of your fingers and put them on your clit, rubbing and flicking it the way you like, moaning when you feel yourself tighten around the strap. 

Abby is going to cry, she thinks: everything you're doing now is torturing her. She needs to be the one who fucks you and plays with your clit, it's her job. There are red crescents on her palms from how hard she is digging her nails into her flesh, and she is leaking on the bed, because you're so fucking hot. Abby can't take her eyes off you, off your perfect pussy with her cock inside, off your pretty face contorted in pleasure. 

“You're beautiful, ma'am.” Abby blurts out, not controlling herself.

“Yeah?” You smirk. 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

You like it when Abby compliments you, but she is being punished, so you don't give her a chance to redeem herself. You start rubbing your clit faster, feeling your orgasm approaching, and Abby whimpers again: she can see it as well. She wants to beg you again, she needs to make you cum, but Abby also needs to be good, so she stays quiet and doesn't look away. Your thighs start twitching and your moans get louder now, and Abby can't sit still anymore; she almost bounces on the bed, trying to cope with the fact that you're going to cum without her. 

“Fuck, it feels so good.” You taunt her again, knowing how much it upsets her. “Oh, I'm going to cum-” You whimper when you feel the first wave of orgasm washing over you before the whole tsunami of pleasure. 

Abby is panting, her mind is empty, and she watches you again like a predator, feral eyes trained on your face: you look so good when you cum. 

Tsunami hits you and you moan deeply, frozen in place as your cunt pulsates around Abby's strap. Abby doesn't even breathe, waiting for you to come down from your high. She tries her best to be good and patient for you, and you notice it. Abby is damn near tears, but she is still sitting like you told her to, and she is being quiet as well, waiting for you. You feel like this is enough for her and motion her to come to you when your high subsides. 

Abby is super fast as she climbs on top of you, getting comfortable between your legs again. 

“Hi, baby.” You tell her in a sweet voice and Abby buries her nose in your neck, squeezing you in her arms. “You did so well, sat through your punishment like a champ.” 

“Thank you, ma'am.” 

“Do you want to stop?”

Abby looks borderline hurt at your suggestion, and you laugh kindly.

“I’ll take it as a no.” You caress her cheek gently. “Well, since you’ve been so good, I suppose you can choose how you want to fuck me, princess.”

Abby moans at your words - she is so greedy she can’t pick an option right away, she can’t believe her luck! 

“Sit on my face.” Abby says in a low voice that faintly reminds you of her dominant side, but she quickly remembers her place. “Please.”

“Lie down.”

Abby listens and watches impatiently how you get up and swing your thigh over her chest, your soaked pussy so close to her face she feels how her own cunt pushes more slick onto the sheets. 

“Hold me down and leave bruises.” You gasp when Abby immediately wraps her strong arms around your thighs and pulls you down, making you sit on her face. “Good girl.”

Abby moans into your pussy and opens her mouth wide, as if she is really trying to eat you, and you relax in her grip - the pain from her fingers digging into your hips is mixed with the pleasure from her soft flat tongue and you feel amazing. And Abby is so eager, she eats you out feverishly, watching your every movement. Abby needs to make you cum, to hear you choke on your own moans, but right now you only make these quiet breathy moans - so she sucks on your clit and you twitch, overstimulated. Abby grins into your pussy and you frown.

“Oh, you wanna play games, princess?”

And then it’s Abby’s turn to twitch because you push two fingers into her and curl them. 

“Don’t you dare to cum before me again.” You growl at her and Abby mewls pathetically, tugging you even harder, pinching your thighs when you curl your fingers and hit her sweet spot. You whimper, getting high on pain-pleasure equilibrium, and all hell breaks loose. 

Both of you can’t stop your moans, and everything becomes a chain reaction where you fuck your fingers into Abby and Abby drags her tongue over your clit, sucking and rubbing it while her hands try to break your bones with the force she is holding you down. Your thighs are suffocating her, but she is in heaven: you’re all around her, all she smells, tastes, feels and hears - it’s only you. This is how it is supposed to be: Abby under you, serving you, making you feel good like no one, not even you, can.

“Fuck, baby, just like that-” You choke on your moan and Abby moves her hands to your hip junctions, keeping you in one place as her tongue fucks you like you need her to. “Yes, princess.” You hiss and buck your hips into her mouth, but the iron grip she has on you doesn’t let you. 

You keep curling your fingers inside her and Abby closes her thighs around your hand, trying her best to concentrate on you and not cum before you do, but your pace doesn’t falter even when your voice breaks and your hips twitch. Abby concentrates on your puffy, warm cunt and listens to your moans - but it seems to only work against her, spiking her arousal even more, bringing her closer to the inevitable. 

“You are tightening on me.” You smirk and thumb at her clit, making Abby’s hips jump. “You’re gonna cum when I cum.” You manage to tell her and then there are only moans and whimpers as Abby sucks your clit. 

And then she gently grazes her teeth over it and your climax hits you suddenly; Abby eases her grip on you, letting you ride her tongue while you moan and whine for her. You feel how her cunt sucks your fingers in and Abby is such a mess now, cumming on your fingers while you use her face to prolong your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” You whimper and sit on her chest, looking at Abby’s red wet face as she keeps moaning. “Came with me like I told you to, good fucking girl.”

You take your fingers out and Abby makes eye contact with you when you suck your fingers clean. 

“Oh god-” Abby sighs pathetically. “Fuck, ma’am.”

You chuckle, still riding your high, but you find your strength to move and lie next to Abby, petting her head gently with your shaking hand.

“You want to cuddle, princess?”

“I wanna hold you.” You are surprised, but you go back on top of her and Abby wraps her arms around you, caressing your back. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, princess.” You gently kiss her shoulder and then her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. High.” Abby chuckles. “Thank you. It was amazing.”

“You did amazing, baby. I’m proud of you.” You kiss Abby gently, feeling her whole mouth, trying to show her all the love you have for her.

“You got so pissed at me.” Abby grins and you roll your eyes with a smile.

"Was it too much?"

"I think if you want to punish me again like this, you'll have to tie me down. I almost broke, wanted to fuck you so bad." Abby murmurs and you kiss the marks on her throat. "Does anything hurt?"

You're surprised once again - usually you ask this question, but given the circumstances...

"Deliciously." You murmur into Abby's lips and kiss her again.

"We need to get a leash." Abby says suddenly and you snort.

"Yeah, we do."

[urcallousedbaby]

Shit. I Need A De-Stresser

Kyle Gallner as Joel 

Warnings: 18+, one shot, pwp, cabezaaaa (male receiving) gn! reader, degradation, facial.

You go visit Joel at his job and are met with a restless, annoyed, and silent boyfriend. 

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

You went down to the New Jersey station after not seeing your boyfriend for 2 days. He would send you messages saying that he was gonna stay after. You were tired of having an empty bed all by yourself, especially with all the recent suspicious suicides and killings that were happening around town. You grabbed your keys and went into the car, a bit anxious in the state I was gonna see him in. You arrived at the station after 15 minutes and were met with one of his friends. His eyes widened when he saw you, you immediately knew that something was wrong.

“He’s bad y/n…” he said and realized you somehow were already at the door of his office. 

You hesitated knocking but ultimately did so, you needed to see Joel, needed to feel him on you, his eyes looking at you. You wanted your boyfriend. You sighed and knocked on the door. You were met with a “come in” and you did. You were met with an absurd amount of bloody ways a person could end their own life. You weren’t used to it but ignored them and looked at the silhouette in the corner. 

“You’re.. here. Why?” I heard Joel say in a raspy monotone voice. 

“I came to see you, been missin’ you for the past couple of days.” I said, he came out of the corner and I saw what looked like my boyfriend but this was not him. His eyes were bloodshot red and he had big bags under his eyes. His eyes looked sunken in, his hair was messy and his clothes looked like they’d been slept in. His eyes looked different. As if he was desperate for something. 

“What do you want y/n?” he said, in a rather rude tone. 

“No, you’re not about to avoid this situation by trying to argue. Babe, what's wrong?” you replied. You read right through him and his avoidant personality when something’s stressing him out. He looked at you defeated, letting out a big breath. 

“This fuckin’ case is just so confusing, we haven’t got no real breakthrough. It’s stressing me the fuck out. Shit. I need a de-stresser.” he said. 

Something about the way he was in a sense, begging for you to help de-stress did something to you, you were just wanting to jump on his bones. You grabbed his collared shirt that was already distressed and sat him down on his couch. You smashed your lips to his and felt his hands reaching inside your shirt, unclipping your bra. He successfully unclipped it and started tugging up at your shirt to which you proceeded to dry hump him over his clothes. you looked at him and could feel his desperation in wanting you, you wanted the same. 

You grabbed his belt buckle and quickly unbuckled him, letting his dick spring out. Your mouth latched on it like a Garra Rufa, producing saliva in your mouth to suck him sloppily. you spit on his balls and started to slowly massage them. you spit on your hands and started kissing his balls, looking up at him and started sucking on them. while sucking, you were pumping your hands on his base, going teasingly slow since he didn’t wanna come home. 

he could sense the brattiness in the way you was teasing him, he yanked your head back, grabbing your hair and saying

“oh? a slut wants to act up knowing they’ve probably been touching theirself every night since i haven't been home.” he let go of your hair and you went back to sucking on him, hands on the base pumping up and down, your tongue swirling around his shaft.

 He pushed your head all the way down to where your nose was getting tickled by his pubes. He wasn’t messy, he maintains his hygiene and they had been freshly trimmed since the last time you went down on him. You were trying to come back up for air but he kept you down, situating himself in a way that would give him better access to your mouth. With his grip still on your hair, he started moving you up and down at a more faster speed. 

you couldn’t breathe but you were moaning around him, sending the vibrations up his body— earning groans from him. you started tapping his thigh as a sign to let you get air and he did. your face covered in your own saliva, he liked his lips and grabbed your face and smashed your lips together. your tongue was swirling in his mouth and he started sucking on your lip. 

you could feel his muscles getting tense so you quickly went down on your knees and he positioned himself right in front of your face and you kitty licked his tip to which he came all in your face. 

“did that de-stress you enough?”

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

-j 

suciassss

[gladiatorcunt]

patrick probably whines when you bounce on his cock.

cw: 18+ mdni, au of the ending where patrick wins (no infidelity btw, he and tashi never did anything), implied drug use, car sex mention, riding, afab reader, reader is naked/patrick is fully clothed, lowkey gross & nasty, breeding kink (i’m ovulating rn), unprotected p in v sex, slight degradation, unedited

You’re just so proud of your boyfriend, you can’t help but jump his bones immediately. You see Patrick running towards after his match, and you race to vault yourself into his arms. He laughs wholeheartedly and spins you around, partly happy because you seem to be so happy for him. He’s still in a state of shock, to be honest. Everything was leading up to Art cementing his place in his career, but Patrick had managed to beat him in the end. No one could believe it, Patrick’s hope had been almost completely gone by that point. But he did it, and maybe now he can leave behind the needles and scrimping pennies.

He still hasn’t processed anything, but your lips and giggles are too good to ignore. You gasp as he picks you up by gripping onto your thighs and hoisting your legs around his waist. You rock your clothed core against his abs for a second, in dire need of a little friction. Patrick makes the kiss messy, pushing more of his spit into the intense lip locking. He flicks away the string of saliva that connects your lips when he ducks back to look at you. You grin, eyes wide and cheeks blazing with heat. It’s a stupid decision, but you throw your body weight around to get Patrick to fall onto the bed with you.

“Fuck!” He shouts, darting his hands around the back of your head and digging his knees into the mattress so he doesn’t fall out. “Couldn’t have waited a little bit, are you a greedy whore all of a sudden?”

You shrug, “Maybe, but you’d like it if I was. Now come here, we have to celebrate.”

With that, you leg your legs fall open and put on your most convincing pout, beckoning your boyfriend to get a move on already. Seeing him sweat in those slutty shorts and hearing him grunt whenever he hit the ball really gets you going, something that you didn’t think was possible until you got an athlete boyfriend. It’s a competition to find out who can be the most insanely horny in the relationship at this point, and if Patrick ever got a hold of your diary, he’d agree that you win by a landslide.

Patrick latches onto your shoulders and spins to lie flat on his back with you on top of him. You adjust your position, jostling your hips until you’re positioned right over his hard bulge. You’re too busy getting lost in a flurry of clothes as you both kind of awkwardly undress on the bed, but eventually his pants are pulled down enough for his cock to spring free while you’re fully naked. You look like a porn star to him, teasingly swiveling your hips in the most seductive way possible.

He smirks and throws his arms behind his head, “I thought you were supposed to be my prize, what happened to making me feel like a winner?”

You bite you rlip, digging your nails into his pecs, “It’s not my fault you’re too keyed up to not cum immediately, savoring this is possible, you know?”

Patrick rolls his eyes and smiles, not picking a fight with you on that. Sometimes you like to get yourself worked up too, with his thick cock gliding in between your folds and mixing your juices together.

You lift your ass and throw a certain look towards him, and he tries not to be too smug as he wraps a large hand around the base of his hard cock. He holds the rigid length upright so all you have to do is hover over it and plop yourself right down on it. He doesn’t pump himself while he waits, he wanted to fuck before the match but you wouldn’t let him. You said it’d be better for him to have all this energy stored up.

You get restless and start to sink down on his cock, the stretch always takes some breath out of you but you were the one that decided to wait until now. Once he’s bottomed out, you’ve given up on teasing him until he breaks you entirely. You lift your hips until the tip of his dick catches on your hole and then slam down, starting off with a realsitically unattainable fast pace.

His fingers dig into the fat of your bouncing ass cheeks, “You’re inflating my ego too much, making me feel like a big shot getting fresh pussy in his hotel room.”

You moan, keeping eye contact as you fuck him into the mattress, “You- You are a big shot, babe. Shit- Just lie back and relax…”

The smell permeating in the room is already so pungent. Patrick’s natural musk intertwining with your own, if anyone else walked in they might faint, but to you two, you could cum from the scent of your sex by now. Being the same kind of freak in that regard brought you both so much closer if anything. You grind your pubes down against his, clenching on his dick on purpose. The friction is delicious for your clit, so you do it again.

He throws his head back, reaching up to curl one of his hands around your throat as you ride him, “Uh huh, that’s my dirty slut, so wet and tight for me.”

His words trail off into a squeaky whine as you speed up, truthfully losing stamina a bit but still determined to celebrate your boyfriend properly. You lean to press your sweaty tits right up against his own, and you whisper in his ear about this being a repeating occurrence.

“Maybe someday we’ll have a baby to put to bed first before we can do this, get them to wave at you from the stands and then pass them off to you when we’d see you after you win.” You lick the shell of his ear as you speed up, ignoring the embarrassing wet smacks of your slick ass against his hip bone. “Wouldn’t it be cute, me with a chubby baby on my hip that looks like you and another one already in my belly?”

“You’re a fuckin’ demon, i swear.” Patrick moans, giving you little whines here and there when you seem to really hit the spot. “Yeah, it’d be cute.”

What better way to celebrate than by having a baby?

He pulls you down by your neck to french kiss you, his tongue twisting around yours. The sheets are soaked by now and you don’t want to even imagine what the staff who have to clean his room will find. Random bits of fluid and the stench of sex heavy in the air, you’ll have to remember to leave some cash for a tip to ease your conscience.

You tighten your walls around him in short bursts until he’s clawing at your ass and smacking it extremely hard as he cums inside you. The stinging is a pleasant catalyst for your own orgasm soon after. You can’t wait to see how dirty you get his car seats.

[joelsrose]

Burning Desire

warnings: 18+ content !!!!! dirty talk, handjob, m! receiving oral - eeeeek I don’t write smut that often bc I’m not sure if I’m the best at it so if you enjoy pls let me know!!!

my masterlist

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It was hot—too hot in Jackson. The type of heat that clung to the air like a second skin, so heavy and unrelenting that even the faintest whisper of wind brought no relief. It was the kind of hot that seeped into the walls, turning your home into a suffocating box, the kind that made sweat gather in the crook of your neck and slide down your spine.

“Fuck this,” you muttered, wrestling with the old fan. Its blades gave a weak, uneven groan, the sound of a machine long past its prime. It sputtered for a moment before giving up entirely, leaving you alone to suffer in the still, sweltering air.

The ventilation system had been out for three days now. At first, you told yourself it was fine, no big deal. You’d lived through worse before you came to Jackson.

By the second day, you were over it. The sweat, the restless nights, the way the heat sucked the energy from your bones. You’d tried everything—propping open the windows, draping wet cloths over your forehead—but nothing seemed to help. The thought of another day like this was enough to make you want to scream.

You sighed, swiping at the bead of sweat that clung stubbornly to your forehead. The thick, humid air inside your house had grown unbearable, pushing you out the door and into the blistering sun. The heat wrapped around you like a smothering blanket, the kind that didn’t just sit on your skin but burrowed deep into your bones, pounding relentlessly on every inch of exposed flesh.

You made your way down the dirt path to Tommy’s house, your irritation building with each sluggish step. By the time you reached their porch, you were half-ready to tear the door off its hinges. Before you could knock, Maria opened it, greeting you with a sly smile.

“Well, hello there,” she said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Not now, Maria,” you muttered, brushing past her playful tone. “Where’s your husband?”

Maria chuckled knowingly, folding her arms. “Your ventilation still down? I told you, you could stay here.”

“And listen to you guys have sex every night? No, thanks.” You shot her a dry look before stepping inside and calling out, “Tommy!”

The sound of boots against wood echoed from another room, followed by a gruff, familiar voice. “Christ, what’s goin’ on here?” Tommy appeared in the doorway, brows raised, his eyes sweeping over you. “And why do you look like you just ran through a damn sprinkler?”

You glared at him, swiping at the sweat-soaked neckline of your shirt. “Because it’s a hundred degrees in my house, Tommy. And because someone”—your tone sharpened, the implication clear—“hasn’t come by to fix it.”

Tommy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression one of mild exasperation. “Alright, alright. Let me grab my tools before you melt all over Maria’s floor.”

“Baby,” Maria interjected, her voice lilting with amusement. “You got that thing?”

Tommy froze for half a second, his hand moving from his neck to scratch the edge of his jaw. “Oh… fuck,” he murmured under his breath, his posture stiffening in that telltale way that said something had slipped his mind.

Your brows shot up, arms crossing as you stared him down. “Tommy, I swear to God,” you started, your tone sharp and cracking with heat-induced frustration, “I’m not even being dramatic right now, but if this thing isn’t fixed by the end of the day, I legitimately might shoot someone.”

Tommy chuckled, low and easy, as though the idea of you snapping didn’t rattle him in the slightest. “Well, we can’t have that,” he drawled, his hands settling on his hips in that casually smug way that always made you want to throttle him. “Alright, I’ll send Joel over this afternoon. He’s free.”

He was already moving toward the front door before the words fully registered. “Wait—what?” you blurted, following after him. “Joel?”

“Yeah, Joel. You’ve met him, right?” Tommy glanced back over his shoulder, his tone as nonchalant as if he’d just told you the weather. “Big guy, mean face?”

You had, in fact, met Joel. A handful of times since he’d arrived last month. To be honest, you were still trying to figure him out. He was brusque, gruff, and always seemed to have this permanent scowl etched into his features. To this day, you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that he and Tommy were brothers. They were so different—Tommy with his easy charm and constant smirk, Joel with his sharp eyes and the kind of silence that always felt a little heavy, like it might snap at any moment. Then again, you didn’t know Joel. Not the way you knew Tommy.

“Fine,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back toward the porch. “As long as it’s fixed.”

You didn’t wait for a response, stepping back into the searing heat. Behind you, Maria’s voice rang out in mock cheer, “Nice to see you too!”

Without turning, you threw a hand in the air, flipping her off as you walked away. Her laugh followed you, light and teasing, and somehow, despite the heat, it managed to make you smile.

⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

You lay sprawled on the bench of your front porch, eyes closed against the bright glare of the sun, lazily fanning yourself. The heat inside your house had been unbearable, so you’d come outside, hoping for even the slightest breeze to ease your suffering. But the air was still, and the heat clung to you no matter where you went.

You’d resorted to wearing your tiniest pair of shorts and a worn-out singlet, an outfit you wouldn’t dream of being seen in beyond the safety of your porch. But right now, the mere thought of adding another layer felt like cruel and unusual punishment.

The creak of the gate and the sound of heavy boots on the porch’s wooden planks barely registered in your haze. Then came a cough—a quiet, gravelly sound that snapped your eyes open.

Standing there, broad shoulders framed by the relentless sun, was Joel. You blinked, suddenly unsure if it was the heat making you lightheaded or… something else. Had he always been this handsome? The sharp set of his jaw, the flecks of silver in his beard that caught the light, the way his shirt stretched over arms that looked like they could build or break anything in their path. You’d noticed him before, sure, but not like this—not when he was standing so close, with his presence so solid and consuming.

“Uh… Tommy sent me over,” Joel said, his low voice breaking through your trance. He stood there awkwardly, one hand resting on his hip, the other rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze swept over you briefly before landing somewhere just past your shoulder, as though he was deliberately trying not to look at you too closely.

“Oh. Right. Shit, sorry.” You scrambled to sit up, brushing at your shorts like that would somehow make this less mortifying. For some reason—maybe the heat, maybe pure instinct—you extended your hand toward him. A handshake. Really? What were you, a fucking realtor?

Joel’s brows knit together in confusion, but he took your hand anyway, his grip firm but hesitant. His rough, calloused palm dwarfed yours, his skin warm and textured in a way that made your stomach flip. You prayed he couldn’t feel how clammy your own hand was, though judging by the flicker of something on his face—amusement, maybe?—he definitely noticed.

“Uh,” you stammered, withdrawing your hand too quickly, as though it had been burned. “Thanks for coming over.”

Joel gave a slow nod, his gaze finally meeting yours. “No problem,” he said simply.

You cleared your throat, trying to swallow the warmth rising in your face—not from the sun but from the way Joel’s presence seemed to pull at something inside you. “Well… follow me,” you murmured, stepping past him to open the door, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a curt nod, his boots echoing softly against the wooden planks as he followed you inside. The air in the house was stifling, thick and oppressive, but Joel didn’t seem fazed. You led him through the narrow hallway toward the ventilation system, your fingers brushing over the walls for balance as you fought to ignore the weight of his gaze lingering on your back.

“This way,” you said, your voice tighter than you meant it to be.

When you reached the corner where the old, battered system sat, Joel was all business. He crouched down without a word, his hands moving with practiced precision as he inspected the unit. His brow furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he adjusted a panel.

You stood off to the side, arms crossed, trying not to stare too openly, but it was impossible not to notice the way the sweat on his neck glistened in the dim light, or the way his broad shoulders filled the space.

“Been runnin’ this thing into the ground, haven’t you?” Joel muttered, mostly to himself as he fiddled with the system. His tone was dry, almost amused, as though the sorry state of your ventilation wasn’t exactly surprising.

You shrugged, “I’m just a girl.”

At that, he paused, turning to look at you with a raised eyebrow, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and mild amusement.

It was distracting—how good he looked like this. The sun streaming through the window seemed to catch every rough-hewn line of his face, the sweat on his brow glinting faintly in the light. And then there was his shirt, the hem riding up as he reached for something in the toolbox, exposing a sliver of tan, muscular skin that made your stomach flip in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away as you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to play it cool. “So, uh…” you started, your voice coming out too soft. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “How’d you know how to do all this?”

Joel sighed, the sound low and almost weary, as though the answer wasn’t worth much to him. “Was in construction. Worked with Tommy.”

“Really?” you said, tilting your head as you watched him. “Guess that explains the whole ‘fix anything, grumble about it later’ vibe you’ve got going on.”

Joel paused for a moment, glancing at you over his shoulder. His brows furrowed, lips tugged into the faintest frown. “What the hell’re you talkin’ about?” he said, his voice low and gravelly, laced with genuine confusion.

Your face burned. You waved a hand in the air, trying to dismiss the awkwardness. “Nothing. Uh, I’ll be back,” you muttered, spinning on your heel before he could say anything else.

You escaped to the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter as you tried to compose yourself. “Get it together, girl,” you muttered under your breath, taking a few deep, steadying breaths.

Spotting a pitcher of water on the counter, you grabbed a glass. Offer him water. Be normal. That’s not weird, you told yourself. Glass in hand, you walked back toward him, your heart thudding unreasonably loud in your chest.

“I got some water—” you started, but before you could finish your sentence, your foot caught on something—probably that damn rug you hadn’t straightened out. The glass slipped from your hand as you pitched forward, stumbling with an embarrassingly loud yelp.

The next few seconds blurred together. Joel turned just as you fell, his hands moving quickly to catch you. The glass hit the floor with a clatter, shattering everywhere.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, his strong hands steadying you, one gripping your arm and the other braced on your waist. His eyes scanned you, his voice gruff but laced with concern. “You alright?”

You blinked up at him, your face inches from his. His hand was warm and solid on your waist, and the way he looked at you—stern, steady—made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the fall. “Yeah,” you breathed, your voice a little too shaky. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… clumsy.”

Joel’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “That much’s obvious,” he said, his tone dry as he helped you straighten up. “Maybe let me get my own water next time.”

After what felt like forever, Joel finally let go, his hands dropping from your waist. You stumbled back, the heat of his touch lingering on your skin as you scrambled to the ground, muttering under your breath, “Fuck,” more to yourself than anyone else.

Your eyes darted to the shards of glass scattered across the floor. You reached out quickly, eager to clean up the mess and avoid any more embarrassment. But as your hand shot forward, Joel crouched down at the same time, his larger hand moving to grab the same piece of glass.

And that’s when it happened.

Your hand missed the glass entirely and landed firmly… on him. Right there.

Time froze, the air between you suddenly too thick to breathe, the moment stretching unbearably as you both registered what had just happened. Your heart slammed against your ribcage, panic and mortification washing over you in waves. But that wasn’t what truly hit you, what really sent your mind reeling. No, it was something else entirely.

He was hard.

Rock solid beneath your touch.

You gasped, your breath catching as your gaze snapped up to meet his. His expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched tight, and his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. The tension between you was electric, crackling with something neither of you wanted to name.

Your shock quickly morphed into something deeper, a slow, smoldering heat coiling low in your stomach. Your lips parted, but no words came, your mind too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. Joel cleared his throat abruptly, breaking the charged silence. He stood in one swift motion, his voice gruff and uneven as he muttered, “I’m gonna… get some water.”

You stayed there for a beat, still kneeling on the floor, the cool shards of glass forgotten in your hands. The room felt stifling, the tension from moments ago lingering in the air like smoke. But then you heard the faint clink of a glass in the kitchen, and before you could second-guess yourself, you stood and followed him.

When you stepped into the doorway, Joel’s back was to you, his broad shoulders pulling taut under the fabric of his shirt as he raised a glass of water to his lips. His head tilted back, exposing the thick column of his neck, and you felt that heat inside you flare, spreading through your limbs like wildfire.

He turned then, lowering the glass, his gaze meeting yours. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his jaw and the flicker in his eyes betrayed him. He didn’t say a word—didn’t have to. The charged silence between you said enough.

Your breath caught in your throat, and before you could think it through, you stepped forward. The air shifted as you sank to your knees in front of him, your fingers trembling as they reached for his belt. His breath hitched audibly, his body stiffening as he looked down at you.

“What are you doin’?” His voice was low, strained, but there was no mistaking the way his hands hovered at his sides, unsure whether to stop you—or help you.

You didn’t answer, your hands moving instinctively, your gaze locked on his as you worked the leather strap loose.

You yanked his jeans down in one swift motion, the fabric pooling around his ankles. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as you knelt before him.

Just as your fingers moved to the waistband of his boxers, Joel’s hand shot out, gripping a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back, forcing your gaze up to meet his. The movement was firm, commanding, his expression shadowed and intense.

“The fuck are you doin’?” he growled.

You smiled up at him, unbothered, as though this were the simplest thing in the world. “Helping you,” you said, your voice soft but sure.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his jaw tight, his breath ragged. “Fuck,” Joel muttered under his breath, his grip loosening slightly, his eyes darkening. “You’re dirty, y’know that?”

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmured, releasing you.

You didn’t hesitate. Your fingers slipped under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down in one smooth motion. His length sprang free, slapping against his abdomen, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet room. The sight of him made your breath hitch, heat pooling low in your stomach as your eyes traced every inch of him.

“Shit,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, your lips parting as your mouth watered at the sight.

Joel’s hand found your hair again, his grip firmer this time, guiding your gaze back to his face. “You gonna just stare, or you gonna show me what that smart mouth can do?” he drawled, his voice thick with tension.

You smiled as you began to lean into him.

“Wait,” Joel said, his voice rough and strained, stopping you just before your lips could meet his tip. You froze, looking up at him, the hunger in your eyes mirrored in his.

“Wanna taste you first,” he murmured, his words slow and deliberate, like a promise. “Before you’re all full of me.”

The heat in his voice sent a jolt straight to your core, leaving you breathless. Before you could even process what he meant, his hand tightened in your hair, pulling you to your feet with an almost desperate force.

His lips crashed against yours, feverish and unrelenting, his kiss filled with a raw, unspoken need. A muffled “mhmm” escaped your lips as your body melted against his, your hands bracing against his chest.

But your hand didn’t stay there for long. It slid back down, wrapping around his length as you began stroking him, slow and deliberate at first, before picking up the pace. The weight of him in your palm only made the ache inside you worse, and the quiet, guttural noise Joel let out against your lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice deep and reverent, his forehead pressing to yours for a brief second. “Alright,” he said, his tone commanding now, his hands moving to your shoulders. “Back down.”

You didn’t hesitate, sinking to your knees once more, the hunger in his eyes making your pulse race.

Your mouth enveloped him slowly, your tongue working along his cock, tasting the salt of his skin. Joel’s breath hitched sharply, his hand moving to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his other hand gripped the edge of the kitchen counter for balance.

“Fuckkk, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, his head tilting back slightly as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

Then his gaze snapped back down to you, and the sight of you looking up at him—lips wrapped around him, eyes wide and full of intent—made his jaw tighten. “Shit, you’re good at that,” he groaned, his tone full of awe and desperation.

You kept your pace steady, bobbing your head as your hands worked to cover the rest of him, your fingers curling around his base.

The heat in the room felt almost unbearable now, the sweat on your skin mingling with the faint stickiness of the floor beneath your knees. It hurt—your knees digging into the hardwood—but it didn’t matter. The sound of his breathing, the way his fingers tightened in your hair, made every discomfort worth it.

Joel’s free hand reached down, his thumb brushing a bead of sweat from your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the tension in his body. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice rough and uneven.

You hummed in response, the vibration pulling a deep groan from him, his hips bucking slightly despite his effort to stay in control.

Joel’s hand tightened in your hair, gathering it into a makeshift grip as he began to move, his hips thrusting into your mouth with a newfound urgency. The pace was hard and fast, his rhythm rough, but the desperation in his movements only fueled the heat pooling in your core.

Your fingers clutched at his thighs, trying to ground yourself against the intensity of it all. The muscles under your hands were taut, flexing with every drive of his hips, and the sheer force of him overwhelmed you, pushing you closer to the edge of control. You gagged around him, your throat tightening as he hit the back of it, but instead of pulling away, you let out a muffled moan, spurring him on further.

“So fucking good for me,” Joel groaned, his voice raw and strained as he looked down at you. His hand stayed firm in your hair, guiding you as he took what he needed, his eyes burning with a mix of hunger and awe. “On the floor, like this… Jesus Christ.”

You freed one hand from his thigh, letting it slide down to cup his balls, your fingers massaging gently as you continued your rhythm. Joel’s breathing grew heavier, a sharp inhale escaping his lips as his head tipped back slightly.

“Shit, darlin’,” he groaned, his voice rough and strained, every word drenched in desperation. “Not gonna… not gonna last much longer.”

Abruptly, Joel pulled himself out, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and hungry “Where d’you want me, baby?” Joel asked again, his voice slower this time, almost a drawl, but it didn’t lack intensity.

His free hand brushed the side of your face, rough fingers tracing over your cheek like he had all the time in the world—though the look in his eyes told you he was on the brink of losing control.

You licked your lips, the salty taste of him still on your tongue, and let the words tumble out before you could second-guess yourself. “In my mouth,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, thick with arousal. “I want you in my mouth.”

“Yeah?” Joel breathed, his jaw tightening as his hips jerked forward instinctively. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You nodded eagerly, your breath hitching as the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. The hunger between you was almost unbearable now, the air charged with a raw, unspoken need.

“Fuck,” Joel grunted, his voice strained as though he was barely holding himself together. His grip on your hair tightened, and his other hand braced against the counter for support. “Okay, baby. Go ahead.”

Without giving you time to respond, he thrust back into your mouth, his movements rougher now, his pace relentless.

His head tilted back, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest as he buried himself in the warmth of you, his hand tightening in your hair to hold you steady. You let him take control, your hands gripping his thighs for support as you worked in time with him, your mouth and tongue doing everything you could to draw him closer to the edge.

Joel’s breathing turned ragged, his body trembling slightly as he braced himself against the counter. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, his voice breaking. “So damn perfect. Can’t—fuck—can’t hold it much longer.”

His grip faltered for just a moment, his movements growing erratic as he chased his release. And then he was spilling into you, a string of low curses falling from his lips as he held you against him, his cum sitting heavy and warm in your mouth.

“Open your mouth,” Joel commanded, his voice rough and steady, his hand tightening in your hair to hold you in place. His tone left no room for hesitation, and you complied instantly, parting your lips and tilting your head slightly so he could see himself on painted all over your tongue.

“Shit,” Joel murmured, his eyes darkening as he looked down at you, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths.

“Now swallow,” Joel commanded, his voice rough and full of authority, his grip on your hair firm as he watched you.

You swallowed instinctively, your throat working around the command as the taste of him lingered on your tongue. Your panties dampened at the sound of his deep groan and the way his chest heaved as he took in the sight of you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice gravelly, a low growl rumbling from his throat as his hand moved to your face. His thumb wiped away a bead of his cum from the corner of your lip.

Without another word, Joel reached down, pulling his pants back up with a practiced ease, as if nothing had happened. His movements were calm, deliberate, his face unreadable as he fastened his belt.

You stayed on your knees, still dazed, your mind spinning from everything that had just transpired. The ache in your knees was nothing compared to the heat coursing through your body, leaving you breathless and utterly unmoored.

Joel glanced down at you, his expression softening for the briefest moment before he leaned down, his rough hands sliding beneath your arms to help you up.

Once you were on your feet, he straightened, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh. “Now,” he muttered, his voice gruff, “let’s fix this damn thing.”

And just like that, he turned, moving back toward the broken ventilation system as if nothing had happened, leaving you standing in your kitchen, stunned.

Your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, your body still trembling, still achingly hot—for an entirely different reason now.

[nekovmancer]

I love you, it's ruining my life

bunch sad taylor swift lyrics always has me breaking my own heart writing fanfiction *sighs* guess this is my debut in the gf fandom as a writer !! hiiii

warnings: sfw, gn!reader, established relationship, language, angst

“You are the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made.”

The words still echo even when the sentence is already finished, growing faint as the seconds pass by but never fading at all; still on the back of your mind, replaying over and over again as if they were part of a broken record.

Once spoken, that fucking phrase couldn’t be swallowed back, less forgotten. God knows how long it would take for them to be gone for good, and not a haunting whisper to follow you through your worst nightmares; one of them now becoming reality.

But that’s not the beginning of your history with Ford. No, it's the end. 

Feels like carving the epitaph on a tombstone. In memory of a love which once lived greatly, now may rest forever in the cold embrace of death. Quote, the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made, unquote. Should you credit Ford Pines in the end? The motherfucker who just put the final nail on your coffin?

You wish you could tell him to shut the fuck up and leave you alone, pretending this won’t be anything but another stupid fight you will manage to forget tomorrow. Maybe you could’ve, if you weren’t too occupied with your hollow chest, asking yourself where did you heart go — or if it was too broken to even manage a last beat.

"What the hell did you just say?" you don't even have the energy to shout back at him. It all comes out in a whisper, one that is not enough to fit your anger; less your sadness. Sometimes, you've got to recognize a lost battle. Yet, this one changed the course of a whole fucking war, one you were exhausted to fight. 

So there you stood: the loser. Feeling small and insignificant as one of the particles of dust hovering in the thick air between you. The body count so far: your home, your engagement, your love, your heart. And the last thing you could ever lose, a loss to mourn for all of your days, was already slipping through your fingers.

Just one last battle to thrive: the tears threatening to flood through your eyes, which you were trying hard to keep for yourself. Ford does not deserve them, not anymore, not when he doesn’t show a single trace of remorse.

You knew he meant it, and that was the very reason it hurt so bad. Sometimes, retrieving the knife from the flesh just meant more pain. You should’ve let it there, rooting in between the bones of your ribcage instead of opening a fresh wound. 

"You've heard me quite well." 

Your throat goes sore, unspoken words scratching it, trying to climb out of your mouth. The last sparkle of a long gone flame lights up, enough fuel for you to bite back. "Right. So I am the mistake, while your freaking muse-"

Sadly, the great amount of bad words on the tip of your tongue didn’t have a chance to be spoken.

"Do not bring Bill into this again,” his words cut you off; more bleeding to stanch on the way.  Ford was responsible for the hollow inside of you, a quiet torment bursting out to destroy what was left from the previous catastrophes. Lies pouring from lips which once kissed you so dearly and now couldn’t even speak in your favor. “It was never about him, any of it."

"It's always about him!” frustration wins, and a restless tremble finds your fingers as the volume of your voice grows louder. It hurts to speak, to think — existence itself feels excruciating. Your last strings of hope were now cut, disappearing into nothingness. What’s left, you still don’t know. “There's no you and me, not anymore. Not without Bill, not without the portal.”

A shredded breath has your whole body shaking, your cue to remember breathing; unevenly as it may be, you still need it to survive, no matter how your frenetic heartbeat tells you’re going to the very opposite way. Whenever your anxiety hit such a peak, Ford would be the one by your side. Now, he was standing on the opposite corner of the room, staring at you as if you do not belong there.

In this, you both could agree. It’s been so long since you’re no longer part of his equation, but an unpleasant variable Stanford, the genius himself, can’t solve, which would end up better erased; long forgotten. 

“Fine,” you barely manage a mutter, rubbing your temples to ease off the ache pulsating through your skull. Someone could have hit you with a hammer and the pain would be softer. “Fiddleford is already gone, and now you want me out of the picture,” you capture your lower lip between your teeth, grazing the soft skin. The taste of blood somehow leaves your mouth less bitter, still not enough to stop you from actually being bitter. “Maybe it will give you and your triangle partner enough space to shove that stupid machine up your ass.”

He’s outraged, of course. Bill has become his everything, dethroning you from that spot you once thought was granted forever. How dare you speak so low of him? His muse, his mentor, his… fuck, to think of finishing this sentence is makes you nauseous. 

Storming out of the room with Ford hot on your trails, you let a few tears find their way out. It’s fine as long as he can’t see you crying, nor hear your strangled sobs under his own voice. You don’t want him to be a testimony to your misery any more. It’s terrible already the whole house seems to have eyes staring at you from every wall.

If Bill was actually watching, you can bet that fucking triangle is damn amused.

Your own thoughts are too loud for you to hear what Ford is saying, or best, vomiting at you. Yet, you can distinguish the screaming is there as you lead the way to what used to be your shared bedroom. 

God, when you’ve come this? 

The love of your life now inhabits the skin of a stranger, and you can’t bear his shit for longer than you already did. You could’ve endured anything for your Ford, but that wasn’t him. Where did he go? When did you lose him for good? But it’s a little too late to ask yourself these questions, and you know the damn answers already, so it’s pointless to keep the torture of knowing the truth.

You feel the urge to crash every small piece of triangular shaped decoration on your way. They are everywhere, in every damn corner, even in the pattern of the curtains when not resting upon the furniture — standing in the middle of your family pictures, among vases with dead flowers, a cemetery of memories from better times.

You stop your tracks for a while just to wander your eyes on some of them, lips trembling to conceive a faint smile at the sight of the portraits. One displays you and Ford outside a newly built shack, smiling from ear to ear as your faces are pressed together so tightly his glasses went crooked. If you squint your eyes enough, you can see a red blur in the bushes just behind you — a little gnome hiding just in time. 

Suddenly, it becomes harder to keep the tears away as reality hits you hard. Those times are gone, and nothing you could do would bring them back to you. 

“You don’t understand,” you can hear Stanford clear as day now, as if you had just emerged from underwater and abruptly became aware of your surroundings. Ford has been repeating this same bullshit nonstop from what? Weeks from now. Nedless to say you were fucking tired of such a nonsense accusation. “The work I’ devoted my life to is about to change the whole world for good and you can’t even-”

Your turn is so abrupt that Ford stops himself from finishing the sentence, swallowing a gasp. “Listen to me,” biting your lip to not curse at him, all of your strength is dealt into the final blow — more like a last resort. “You think Bill is about to make you someone as if I didn’t spend the last years seeing you as my fucking north already,” he’s a little taken aback by your sudden burst out, you can tell by the tip of his ears going pink. “I did everything for you, Stanford. Your dream, your house, your anomalies… and what the fuck you did to me in return? Not even bothering to sleep in the same bed as me for months?” shit, saying it aloud only made it sound more pathetic than it already was. “Or having the nerve to accuse me of not understanding you after everything I gave up to be with you in this shit hole of a city?” 

Ford's response was nothing but silence. Of course it was. What could he say on his behalf when you’re damn right? This time, though, you wish you didn’t.

But you waited for him to say something nonetheless. Anything would do, really. Worse than his rage, his hatred and the damn obsession for his muse was the indifference he has been meeting you with.

The meanings of you have been changed in his dictionary long ago. Did it matter now?

Every move of his was strategic, closer and closer to a checkmate — his dream coming true. And if you were to be sacrificed so he could win… well, a side effect. As long as his king was safe, pawns were pawns.

You’ve just taken too long to realise it.

“Don’t you think you can come crawling back to me after this,” it’s a statement more to yourself then to him; a reminder to not let him inside your heart again after all the damage Ford has done. “When your false god gets tired of toying with you, when your ego stops being enough to feed your delusion, I won’t come back to pick up whatever’s left.”

You stare at him — at Stanford’s eyes. He’s perfectly still, aside from the dramatic rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath he takes. While your eyes silently begged him to change his mind, to take back what he just said… his did not show any emotion but resolution.

Ford is a man of science. He would never affirm something with such a conviction if he wasn’t absolutely sure of it. And as it seemed, he thought of you as a mistake with certainty enough to say it out loud and keep his mind until the very last minute.

“Fine.”

So this is it. The end.

“Fine it is,” you wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, dampening the sleeves of the sweater you’re wearing; which is actually Ford’s. You debate whether to leave it behind or keep it with you while packing your things.

Ford doesn’t stay any longer after this. No goodbyes were said, and his last glance upon you earns a cold shiver running down your spine. You could’ve spitted right into his face and he would still be less mad than he was at the moment, thanks to your audacity of blaming Bill on the failure of your relationship. 

It’s not like Ford needed you, or anyone else at the matter. He had gifts you failed to comprehend, and a view where you were the one crawling back to him as soon as the portal was completed.

Delusion upon delusion… which of you were the worst?

You were left alone, but the whole house was watching silently — every triangle window had an eye of its own, and the dark corners somewhat got darker, casting enormous shadows around you.

Ford must be down at his lab, in the company of his muse… fuck, you don’t want to think of them and whatever they did when you’re not around. Which now would mean pretty much every time. 

It’s a bright summer day outside when you leave the shack, but not even the warmth of the sun seems to be sufficient to dispel the coldness clinging to your bones.

Your fingers are still trembling since the whole fight went out of track, and so they stood while you were folding your clothes slowly, still thinking that things would change by some miracle… and now, as you open the door to your car.

You tell yourself to not look back, and shit, it's not easy; especially when your own mind don't shut the fuck up. For the hours you spent wandering around the city, you leave the radio on the highest volume and keep the cool. You come and go until you’ve reached the "you’re leaving Gravity Falls" sign.

With nowhere else to go, you throw your engagement ring out of the window and speed up to God knows where. As long as it’s far, you suppose you’ll be fine.