#nail polish: fine fine fine fine fine fine fucked fine fine fine

[keo6323]

this is the worst and best thing ive done to date

[tddyhyck]

i don’t FUCKING THINK you introverted whores will understand what us EXTROVERTED SLUTS GO THROUGH

[qingxin-dream]

CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY WAHHHH🥹💖

[peanutworm]

Ive been thinking about it and i think if i paint my nails on my left hand black and put gold on just the ring finger it will give me gender euphoria

[sad-boy-mono]

The only thing I miss about being 14

And that's on my gender shifting 3 months in on T 🤠

[victory-cookies]

well boys. had an interesting time doing gel nails tonight (I passed out then vomited in the middle of doing them). welcome to was it the fumes or am I just sick?

[youmustfixyourheart]

I have decided that this year’s Halloween costume will be (drumroll please) an early 2000s emo kid. I have a very important doctor’s appointment and I need this guy to take me seriously, so no big intricate costume for me this year. I already dress enough like an early 2000s emo kid that I just need to do a little more than I usually do and it’ll work, but it will still be reasonable enough to see a rheumatologist and beg him for help. Anyway, time permitting tomorrow if I get enough homework done, I’m going to try to make a replica of some Bullets or Revenge era MCR merch, most of the stuff I have is Black Parade era or modern merch, which is fine but also I do want some early merch so if I can make some that will be cool. I have some printer compatible iron on sheets for light and dark fabric, and some plain black tshirts, I just need to figure out how to get white space to work on the iron on sheets bc I don’t have white ink and I need to get it to show up but also be visible, I have a few ideas but I’m gonna need to do some trial and error. So we’ll see. I do have a knockoff Bullets era shirt, the haunted castle one that usually has gold foil, but mine has a white decoration and it disintegrated in the washer so it’s all crumbly and leaves little white crud everywhere, but it’ll work if I don’t have time to make anything or I can’t get it to work. And I want to try to figure out how to put a hole and attach a grommet to my wallet so I can actually use the wallet chain I’ve had for ages. This is the third time I’m doing something MCR themed/adjacent for Halloween, the brainrot is so strong lol. I thought it was 3 years in a row but I forgot I was Viago from WWDITS two years ago.

[ranger-kellyn]

i love this gnc kid so much he is my EVERYTHING

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 15th. mattheo — brat taming / daddy kink.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: play bratty games, win…uh, your boyfriends cum down your throat?

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, glove kink, fingering under the table at a family dinner, dom!mattheo, denied orgasm, SLIGHT mutual masturbation, an absurd amount of dirty talk, daddy kink, ROAD HEAD (how tf does this man keep the car steady? idk), blowjob.

Malfoy Manor has always been stunning—the kind of stunning you've grown used to over the years of being with Mattheo, but that somehow still manages to take your breath away every time you step foot inside. It's perfect in a way that almost feels oppressive, the heavy weight of generational wealth clinging to everything.

The chandelier, the delicate flowers in the center of the table, even the soft scent of roses in the air—it's all so much. Too polished. Too grand.

You pick at your dinner, the taste lost on you.

On any other night, maybe you'd let the beauty sweep you up. But not tonight. Tonight, everything grates. The low hum of formal chatter, the fake, forced laughs that drift through the air—you hear it, sure, but you don't care. You can't care. You're too pissed off to care. It all sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

And the cause of your irritation? He's sitting right beside you, perfectly at ease. Mattheo's been charming the room for hours now, playing his part, all smooth smiles and well-placed comments. He was crafted for this. Moulded into it. He can waltz through these evenings like it's second nature, like he doesn't even have to try.

And that pisses you off too. Truthfully, everything about him tonight pisses you off.

But you sit there anyway, like the dutiful girlfriend you are, playing your role—smiling when you're supposed to, making small talk when you're supposed to—all while on the inside, irritation is bubbling, simmering just beneath your skin.

And maybe it's stupid—trivial—but you're mostly just mad that he dragged you here. Ignored your exhaustion. Dismissed it with that look of his, the one that said you'd survive, as if surviving was the same as being fine. And now, you're stuck in this perfectly orchestrated evening, playing a part you never wanted.

And you'd almost hate him for it—if it weren't for those fucking gloves.

Leather, black, soft and sleek. They move with him, something that masks his ruggedness and makes him almost look presentable—graceful—hiding cut knuckles and the strength within them as he picks up his glass, adjusts the napkin in his lap, brushing his fork like it's nothing.

You almost scowl in frustration of it all. Who the fuck let him wear those? You've been staring at them all night. You don't even want to, but it's like they've trapped your attention, pulled you in without asking.

You're mad at him. The gloves don't change that. But they do something. They make everything harder.

And still, you fight it.

It starts small. The attitude. A quiet, sharp kind of rebellion that only he'd catch onto. Your fingers tap your glass a little too hard when you set it down. Your words come out flat when he leans over to make some passing comment. You give him clipped responses, not looking at him, not giving him what he wants. You can feel the brittle edge of your smile, and you know he can too.

Mattheo notices everything. He always does.

After a while of this, a gloved hand slips under the table, brushing your knee.

A question without words; what are you doing?

You don't react. Not at first. You just shift your foot, barely nudging his ankle, pushing back in the smallest way. He tightens his grip on your knee—a warning, a silent conversation between the two of you, invisible to everyone else at the table.

"Dinner's been nice," he's prodding, testing, his voice smooth as ever. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You feel him watching, feel the weight of his gaze as he picks you apart, dissecting your mood. He knows you too well for this. You finally meet his eyes, and for a second, the room fades into the background. Just him and that damn hand on your knee, the soft leather brushing your skin in a way that makes your pulse stumble.

You try to shake it off, shrug it away like it's nothing.

"Hmm," you hum, pretending you're not affected. Your fingers tap your plate, and your eyes drift again—down to his other hand, resting on the table, playing with the edge of his glass. "I suppose."

His brow arches, just enough for you to catch it—another challenge posed to your audacity. He knows exactly what you're doing—you can see it in the way his lips twitch, the faintest hint of amusement. He's letting you play your game, but you know he's already winning.

"You're mad at me." His voice is low, slipping beneath the hum of dinner conversation.

You blink, keeping your gaze trained on the flicker of candlelight rather than him. It's not a question, not even a statement—he says it like a fact, just a certainty, a declaration dripping in the smugness that comes so naturally to him. And that pisses you off even more.

He’s always too goddamn sure about everything.

"Mm, no." You lift your glass, cool rim kissing your lips as you take a slow, languid sip, the taste biting your tongue. You let it hide the smirk threatening your face. "Nothing to be mad about."

His hand shifts higher, fingers tightening just enough to remind you he's there—dipping into your skin, the silent warning you can feel vibrating up your spine. You should be used to this by now, should be used to the way he takes you apart—but you aren't. How could you ever get used to this?

"Uh huh." He's not buying it. He never does.

His eyes flicker around the room, yours follow, mirroring his movements in a habit you loathe as you let him have that win. Everyone's busy—forks clinking, soft laughter bubbling up like champagne, far enough away to give him the nerve to push you harder. Your breath catches when you glance at his free hand again—black leather tapping idly against the tablecloth like it's got all the time in the world.

Gods, what's wrong with you tonight?

When had his gloves become the focus of your desire? They're just fucking gloves. Stupid, soft leather molding perfectly to those big hands—you’re chewing your lip without realizing it, and his eyes catch yours before you can look away—

Fuck.

"You keep staring at my hands," he's leaning in again, and your pulse skips, trips over itself like it's running from something. "Got something you'd like to say?"

The pit of your stomach tightens, twisting with a familiar dread, a sick kind of anticipation. Of course, he's noticed. The bastard catches everything. Nothing slides under his radar—not when it comes to breaking your attitude.

He likes to say he was born to tame brats—and you, of all people, make him prove it. Sometimes you hate him for it. Most times you don't.

"No, actually." You shift in your seat, trying to shake his hand off your knee, but he's relentless—doesn't budge, doesn't even flinch. "I don't."

Christ. His grip is ironclad, like those gloves were made for this kind of hold. For making you feel every fucking inch of them. You exhale as you gather yourself—you hate him tonight, hate him for dragging you here, for dismissing you so easily—and you want to let him know it. Want him to feel it.

"No?" His fingers slip higher. You glance down the length of the table, nausea curling at the edges of your vision when you spot Lucius' blond head gleaming under the chandelier. Mattheo's voice is low, just for you. "Nothing at all?"

"Mattheo." Your voice is a hiss now, strained, your composure hanging by a thread. You want to slap the smug look off his face, but you don't. You can't. "Leave me alone, okay? I'm here. For you. I'm not happy about it, but I'm here. Just let me be. You're being—"

He cuts you off with a tilt of his head, jaw clenching at the exact moment his hand slides further up your thigh.

Your words catch in your throat, suffocate on themselves, die there.

"Maybe you're being a brat because you want me to choke you, huh?" The words land heavy, like an accusation, but worse because it isn't a question. He knows. "Maybe that's why you keep staring at my hands?"

Your body goes hot—alive in ways it hasn't been all night. The room erupts into laughter, some joke you missed, but it only heightens the tension wrapping tight around the two of you. His fingertips are teasing dangerously close to where they shouldn't be, and you're suddenly very thankful for the tablecloth draped over your lap—

"No." The word slips from your lips, barely a breath, lacking conviction. "No, I—"

"A brat and a liar," he hums, not letting you finish. He's enjoying this now. "You're really racking up the bad decisions tonight."

Salazar save you—his fingers slip higher still, and you clamp your thighs shut, a last-ditch effort to keep him from pushing this into dangerous territory. He responds by hooking a foot around yours to spread you back open—you bite your lip so hard it hurts.

"Maybe I'm just annoyed because I had better plans for my evening," you can't let him win so you spit the words out, voice quiet, hoping he doesn't catch the tremor in it. “Not that you care.”

You don't look at him. You can't. More laughter fills the room. Drowns out the shake in your breath.

He huffs, wine breath brushing your ear. "Keep this up and you may just end up with the evening you deserve."

"And what evening is that?" You spit back, ignoring the way the leather sticks to the heat of your thigh. "The one where I'm stuck here, listening to Draco prattle on about his latest Quidditch practice? Or perhaps another mind-numbing dinner, this time with Dumbledore and friends?"

The flicker of irritation in his eyes is subtle, but you see it. Oh, he's seething now. Dread pools, thick like syrup. You drop your eyes to the table.

"Oh no, not even close," if anger was a voice, it'd be his. Right now, in your ear. "I was thinking more of the one where I keep you cuffed to the bed all night. How does that one sound?"

Your pulse hammers, too fast, too loud—you can feel everything—the candlelight burning your skin, the way the chandelier's glow twinkles overhead, the way his hand is still, still so high on your fucking leg.

No one at the table notices. No one cares. But the feeling is crushing you, pulling you deeper into this private hell of his creation.

"You lost the chance for that when you brought me here," you bite out, hand darting under the table to try and pry his fingers off your thigh.

But his grip only tightens, his foot hooking tighter around yours, keeping you in place. He's relentless. And you hate it. You hate how much you don't want him to stop.

"If you're going to act like a brat, just say so," he growls, his voice a low rumble, "you know I'll deal with you later."

You roll your eyes. "Promises, promises."

You can't help it. You're baiting him now, pushing him just as hard as he's pushing you. The inevitable looms over you, and you know you've already lost. He's not budging. He never does. And you know—God, you know—you're in for it.

If this is the hell of his creation, you were the muse.

"More than a promise," his patience is gone, you can feel it. You wonder just how close you are to him dragging you from the room by your hair, not caring who sees. "Count your blessings."

“Oh, I'm counting."

And with that, you reach for your wine glass again, taking another slow, deliberate sip, letting the bitter liquid slide down your throat—you're oblivious, don't even notice the line you've crossed until it's too late—

His hand moves fast, leather fingers slipping past the last scrap of dignity you were clinging to. You choke on the wine you'd barely had the chance to swallow, the world tipping, spinning, crumbling as his thick, gloved finger glides through your slick folds, sinking into your cunt without a moments hesitation. You hadn't worn panties tonight—a decision that felt normal in the beginning but now screams of poor foresight—but there's no time for regret.

Not now, not with your boyfriend fingering you under the table at a family fucking dinner.

"Quiet, brat," he mutters, eyes twinkling as you cover your mouth, still half-choking on your drink. "Keep making sounds and someone is going to notice.”

Your heart skips, the pulse between your legs responding to the threat, clenching involuntarily around him. You're soaked, the heat of it spreads shame across your cheeks, burning like wildfire in your veins. Why are you this wet? This shouldn't turn you on—it's humiliating, degrading—

"Then maybe don't make me make sounds," you hiss, gripping the table so hard you think the wood might crack. "This is on you—"

He cuts you off, slipping a second finger into your cunt—and the sentence dies in your throat, swallowed by a sharp whimper you disguise as another cough.

"I said quiet." His voice is thin, dangerous. His fingers slide deeper, knuckle deep, and the heat threatens to tear you apart. "Bite your tongue or so help me—"

You bite down, but on your lip instead, trying to school your expression into something neutral, something that won't betray the war raging inside you. You two haven't fucked in days—you're more sensitive than usual—and this forbidden thrill only makes it worse, heightening every nerve, every pulse, as his fingers move in slow, deliberate thrusts inside you.

"You can’t," you breathe, the words coming out weak, a poor imitation of protest.  "Mattheo—"

"Shhh," he replies, voice low, a quiet storm gathering in the pit of your stomach. He leans closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Keep your sounds for later."

You snuff a groan, mind racing a million miles a minute—eyes darting around the table in a panic, scanning the faces for any sign that someone might notice. But no one does. The conversation moves on, unaware, the oblivious hum of normalcy in stark contrast to the chaos brewing beneath your skin.

This is crazy. It’s crazy in a way that only Mattheo Riddle could manage and you’re so fucking lost in it you don’t ever want it to stop.

He's not even looking at you anymore, fingers moving steadily, thumb brushing over your clit with the kind of casual cruelty that makes your body shudder. He's laughing, speaking to Draco as though he's not knuckle-deep inside you. The audacity of it makes your head spin. You're teetering on the edge—so close, dangerously close—and if you fall now, if you let go, you'll be too loud—you won't be able to stop yourself—

"Mattheo—please," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely holding on. His thumb rolls over your clit again, teasing, torturing. "You're gonna make me—"

"Yeah," he hardly looks at you. "I am." He crooks his fingers, pumping in slow, agonizing drags that send your brain spiraling into static. "Gonna make you lose the attitude. Gonna make you be good.”

Oh, you loathe him right now, deliciously. "Matt—"

"And you’re going to take it, like it’s not killing you." He continues—leaning in slightly now, examining the way your breath is coming in shallow, broken gasps. “Just like I’ve had to take seeing you in that dress…and pretend it hasn’t been killing me.”

Your eyes flicker around the table again, still desperate for any sign that someone might notice, just to give him a reason to stop—but the conversation continues, oblivious. The leather of his gloves is slick with you now, a wet sound breaking through the steady hum of voices with every movement of his hand.

You part your lips to hiss another pathetic plea—a warning to stop before you explode—but he cuts you off—

“One more word and I'll make sure not a single person at this table leaves without hearing you scream.” He pulls his fingers out nice and slow, rubbing some of the wetness down your thigh before he moves back and pushes back in. “Do you want that?"

You shoot him a glare, but shake your head nonetheless.

"Didn't think so," he mutters, his voice dropping even lower, fingers working deeper, faster. "Look at them," he hisses in your ear, and your gaze flicks over the table again. "They don't even care. Too caught up in their own bullshit to notice, aren't they? But I see you. I see how flushed your chest is—" his thumb presses harder, sending a shockwave through you—"I know what that means."

"I'm not—" your thighs tremble, you’re denying it as though you have any power to stop it. He’s just too goddamn good at this. "I'm not going to—"

"You are," he whispers, and you almost let your eyes roll. "I can feel you soaking my hand. Little cunt is begging me to finish this, isn't it?" His fingers thrust deep, hitting a spot that makes you work to choke down a sob. "You and that fucking attitude can deny it all you want, but I feel how close you are.”

The room erupts into laughter, a sudden burst of noise that pulls all eyes to the other end of the table. Your breath comes out in a trembling exhale, letting out a whimper you know won’t be heard over the commotion—the distraction your only saving grace as you fight to keep still, to keep from rocking against his hand and giving him what he wants.

You lean into him, pleading. "Mattheo, please—if you don't stop, I'll—"

"You poor thing," he hums, his thumb circling slower now, torturously precise. "Sounds like a you problem, princess. Shouldn't have been such a brat tonight."

"I'm sorry," you choke out, words barely coherent but you see the flash in your boyfriend’s eyes. It’s the two words he’s been looking for all night. "Please, just—"

And then—his fingers slip out of you. As abrupt as a cold bucket of water over your head.

You blink, almost gasping at the loss, just as the table erupts into another fit of laughter and you're left aching, disoriented, while everyone begins to stand. Merlin help you—dinners over and you had no goddamn idea. You feel like a robot moving in slow motion as you watch Mattheo wipe his slick fingers off on his thigh, smirking. The room is a blur of goodbyes and handshakes, and before you can even catch your breath, he's got you by the wrist, pulling you away from the scene, dragging you out to the car.

The passenger door of his blacked-out Audi flies open, and you're urged inside, your legs trembling, the evidence of everything he's done to you still slick between your thighs. The leather seats beneath you remind you all too well of the feel of his gloves, of the fingers that had just been inside you, and your cunt clenches at the thought, still throbbing with unfulfilled need. Mattheo slides into the driver's seat, a silent inferno of fury, not sparing you a glance as he throws the car into drive, tearing out of the Malfoy estate.

His leather-gloved hand rests on the stick shift, and you stare at it, unable to look away.

"You're staring again," he breaks the tension, his voice tight.

"Yes." This time, you don't even bother denying it. Not after what he'd done. He’d long tamed your attitude. You can’t fight it anymore. “I am.”

His chest rises sharply, his grip on the gear shift tightening. You bite your lip, feeling your core throb painfully in response.

"Learned your lesson, I hope," he mutters, eyes focused on the dark road in front of you.

"I suppose," you murmur, still breathless. The wetness between your thighs is impossible to ignore, and so you reach for his hand—tracing your fingertips over the smooth leather before curling your fingers around two of his, stroking them. "I suppose I learned something."

His breath catches when you jerk his fingers, and he sucks in a shallow breath of air through his teeth. You clench at the sound of it. Oh, how you goddamn love being a little tease.

"Mm." His voice is gravel, rough and uneven—you notice the bulge in his pants, his cock straining against the expensive fabric. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You nod, your fingers still stroking his. "Yes."

"Yes?" His voice lowers, a prompt you recognize all too well.

"Yes, Mattheo—daddy—" you correct yourself, your breath hitching. God, you’ve been here so many times with him. You know what he’s looking for. "I want to cum."

His jaw tightens, and he wets his lips. "You want my cock. You need it."

"Yes, daddy," you repeat, the words spilling out easily, exactly what he wants to hear, and exactly what you want to say. "I want your cock. I need it."

"Then finish yourself off," he growls, his gaze flicking toward you for a brief moment, his eyes blazing. "Make your filthy little cunt cum, and if you’re a good girl, I'll let you suck me off."

The command sends an insatiable fucking thrill through you, and without a second thought, you move to obey him—night air biting your skin as you shift your dress up and your fingers find the slick mess between your thighs. A long, long over-suppressed moan escapes you the moment your fingers graze your clit, and Mattheo‘a eyes flash over, jaw working as he watches for a split second before focusing back on the road.

"Fuck," you groan as you push two fingers into your soaked cunt, your head falling back against the seat, back arching. "Oh, fuck—"

"That's it," he murmurs, free hand moving from the gear shift to palm his erection through his pants. You swear you hear him moan. "You wish it was me, don't you? Wish it was my cock inside you."

"Yes, daddy, I do," you whimper, your hips rocking against your hand, fingers fucking deeper into your pussy, lewd sounds filling the steamed space within the car. "I wish it was your cock…inside me."

"Fucking brat with a dirty mouth," he hisses, his fingers working at his belt, eyes darting between the road and you. "Cum for me. Show me how you’re good for me.”

You groan, unable to believe how fucking wet you are, slick coating your hand and thighs, dripping all over your boyfriends expensive leather seat—Gods, you’re so close, the edge that he'd left you teetering on earlier now drawing closer with full force. You add another finger, curling them against your throbbing walls, and Mattheo's breath stutters, his focus wavering as he watches you unravel.

"Look at you. So fucking shameless." His hand slips inside his pants, and he starts stroking himself, his cock already leaking. "I bet you wish I’d pull this car over right now, huh? Fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

You moan at how goddamn wrecked he sounds—forcing a smirk through your open mouth, words coming out shaky. "And how do I—ah—how do I deserve to be fucked, daddy?"

The car jerks, just slightly, Mattheo groans.

"Like the nasty little slut you are," his eyes flash to you again, his grip tightening on his cock, pumping faster. "Until you forget how to talk. Until you can't say anything but my fucking name."

Your world spins, orgasm roaring in. "Mattheo—daddy—oh fuck—"

"Earn it," he snarls, his voice raw. "Earn my cock."

One, two more deep pumps into your cunt and you erupt, finally—body seizing, orgasm crashing over you with violent force, leaving you gasping, your back arching off the seat as your wanton moans fill the steamy car. Mattheo watches you through hooded eyes, stroking his cock faster as you whimper and moan his name, orgasm intensified due to him edging you all through dinner—somehow managing to keep the car steady throughout all of this.

Part of you wonders if he’s charmed it.

"Good fucking girl—there we go," he purrs, and his hand reaches over, seizes the back of your head, urging you toward his lap. "Now take your reward."

You’re buzzing—breaths scattered, but there’s no hesitation, no argument. You shift to your knees on his seat, your mouth watering as you wrap a hand around the base of him, tongue teasing the tip before his hand in your hair directs you deeper—lips wrapping around his throbbing cock as he slides into your mouth, hot and heavy. He groans, his hips thrusting forward, just barely, and you gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat.

"Fuck, that's it," he grunts, his voice low and strained. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be choked on my cock. To be shut up like this."

You can't answer, your mouth too full of him as he directs your head to bob along him, as he thrusts into you, each movement deeper, harder. Tears prick your eyes, but you don't stop, your hands gripping his thighs as you suck him down, hollowing your cheeks and drooling.

"Fuck—yeah, that’s it. Choke on it," he snarls, other hand keeping the car impossibly steady. "Wanna see those tears, baby. Wanna hear you gagging on it."

You moan around him at those words, the heat of them shooting straight to your still-soaked cunt, tears spilling from your eyes as his hips buck up, slamming the back of your throat. Mattheo is the most impatient man you’ve known, and it shows in moments like this, when he’s sick of your attitude—when he drops the seat back, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the wheel, his knee keeping it steady as he thrusts deep into your throat. You’re gagging and moaning, working your tongue along the length of him, until with a final grunt, he spills into your mouth and you swallow every drop, his shaking breaths and gutted groans filling the car as he rides out his release.

"Fuck. That’s my girl. My good fuckin’ girl," he pants, his voice rough with satisfaction as he releases you, your lips swollen and wet as you slump back in your seat. "You earned that."

You know you did.

[hardrockshrimp]

I can't believe I'm gonna be back in the food service mines on Wednesday

[youaremysunshine-court]

Gender is a race and I've trained for years to get gold

[emeraldcreeper]

You’d think that post about sexualizing old men being a sign of distress was a joke but it sure isn’t! I sure am sexualizing that old man. To cope.

[silvercloverr5]

James Potter is easily the biggest of the three. He’s just so muscular and strong, but in a soft way. He’s got a soft layer of fat protecting his muscles, and I imagine he’s very freckled too. Not sure why. He is the epitome of a golden retriever boyfriend. He likes being the big spoon, and has an INCREDIBLE weak spot for getting his hair played with. Like, it’s literally orgasmic to him. He grew up with everything. Love, money, etc, etc, so he’s probably the touchiest (at first), and is all over you from the start. Also, I think he often forgets his strength and squeezes u too hard and you’ve gotta be like “uh.. Jamie..? You’re.. you’re kinda squeezing-“ and he just puts an arm over ur mouth like “shut up, baby. Sorry. Love you.” He’s adorable.

Remus Lupin is just a normal sized boy, and runs hot like a radiator. Honestly. He doesn’t even need all those knitted sweaters and warm coffee because he just is the embodiment of autumn warmth. He’s littered with silver scars from his lycanthropy, so when u see him naked for the first time, he’s so self conscious. He’d have his arms wrapped around himself, shielding his scars from your view, and you’ve got to prize his hands off of himself. “I’m sorry.. i know they’re not.. appealing.. it’s…” and you’re just like “woah, rem, what? You’re fucking beautiful.” You say that, and he’s yours. He’s not used to love like James is, but he’s probably the one to start getting cuddly. I imagine it’s winter and he’s reading in the common room, and ur shivering because by some miracle the fire isn’t on. He looks up from his book, admiring you for a while and then lifts up his sweater. You SHOOT underneath it and basically curl up like a cat against his bare chest. I repeat: HE IS SO FUCKING WARM. You’d probably have an ‘eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ moment with him at the start of your relationship though. You know when Clementine is saying she always thought she was ugly and Joel starts kissing her and saying “you’re pretty, you’re pretty, you’re pretty…” yeah, you’d be Joel and he’d be Clementine. But once he’s comfortable, he’s a fucking fiend. You’ll never be cold again, trust me.

Sirius Black is skinny and pale. Like a vampire. Endearingly. I imagine he has a nose piercing and an eyebrow piercing, and he’s all tattooed up. Will DEFINITELY get your initial on his abdomen or collarbone in swirly penmanship. Sirius will act like your best friend even when u two are dating. Bless him though, he’s so used to being hurt and abused by those that are meant to protect him that he can’t trust you at first. I think the first time he came to realise you were different is when you asked him what happened after winter break at his parent’s house, because he was being really quiet and flinching a lot which is unlike him. You cornered him in the common room when no one else was there, and asked him “hey, Siri? What’s going on, man? Tell me.” He insisted, “I’m fine. I swear, sweetheart.” You went to tuck his black curls behind his ear but he flinched, which shattered your heart. You said “Sirius, please. I need to know you’re okay, because I need you safe.” And hearing that, he broke down into your arms. From then on, he’s always in your arms. He adores comforting you, because he’s a big brother himself and so he has the instinct, you know? But man, does he fucking adore being in your arms. He WILL curl up beside you wherever you’re sitting or lying, and is always rubbing against you. He always says “I can’t help it, babe, it’s just the dog in me.” Which he seems to find HILARIOUS. Oh yeah, and he literally can’t sleep unless you’re the big spoon or his head is on your chest or in your neck. He likes to feel safe and protected for once, and you do that for him to no end. He’s THE 70s rocker stereotype, and he loves having matching nail polish with you. You’re best friends as well as lovers.

Sorry for yapping to no end guys!!!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

cherry

words: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ only! smut, stripper!reader, prostitution, protected blowjob, protected p in v sex

“that hot guy is back again.” sugar says, pulling back the curtain just an inch, pointing into the crowd.

“ugh, he is so fine.” you whine. “we never get hot guys in here.” it’s your number one problem with your new strip club, in a much different area than your last, therefore attracting a far different crowd, mainly, an older one.

“girl, i know. everyone wants to take him into the back.” sugar raises his eyebrows, knowing you share her proclivity for taking clients into the back rooms to get an personal “dance.”

“it’s gonna be a fight for who he picks.” you giggle, quickly closing the curtain when the strip club house mom walks into the backstage area.

“i know i’m going right to him when lapdances start, but so is every other girl.” sugar says, adjusting the bra she’s wearing.

“if he stays, remember he left after the shows last time.” you point out. he stayed for all the girls to do their solo shows, but by the time lapdances and duos and trios came out, he was gone.

“good point, cherry.” sugar nods, using your stripper name, which is always a bit of a shock when its the girls doing it, but you learned quickly here that its a sign of respect to keep your real name out of the workplace at this club, so you quickly adapted to only using stripper names.

“alright girls, music is starting!” the house mom shouts out. you are later on in the set, so you head back to your station and adjust your costume for the night, a cherry red number to fit your name, matching your nail polish and lipstick. 

you wait until its your turn to go on, hearing the music play and waiting for the right beat to walk out, the club letting out a cheer as you strut onto the stage. the routine is an old one that you’ve done a million times, and your body easily works through the motions, running almost on autopilot, giving you time to look into the crowd, gauge the reactions, including the handsome guy everyone wants sitting forward, eyes intense.

you are out of breath and completely naked except for your heels as you walk back behind the curtain, pushing your hair back that got caught in your face.

“girl, shut the fuck up! hottie was totally into you!” lola says, her voice sounding excited, despite a couple of the other girls giving you a jealous look.

you pull your next lingerie set, the one you liked for lap dances as you shrug. you noticed that he was paying very close attention to your dancing, but you didn’t know that he wasn’t giving everyone else the exact same heated look.

“i think its only fair we let cherry at him first.” sugar suggests, and there’s a smattering of agreement from the other girls, which is enough to set it as a rule, you get to approach the attractive man before anyone else could take their shot.

it makes you excited for the individual sets to end as you make sure to touch up your lipstick and blot any sweat and oils from your forehead. you saunter out as soon as you are allowed, the last stripper still making her way off the stage.

your eyes immediately set sight on your target. “hello there, handsome.” you purr, watching as the handsome mans eyes slowly drag up your body. “can i interest you in a dance?” he smiles, a closed mouth smirk that conveys powerful confidence. he doesn’t even use his words, simply pulls a bill out of his pocket. you smile with all your teeth back at him, knowing they’re framed by your bright red lips as you tug at the waistband of your lacy panties, letting him slip the folded bill against your skin, fingers briefly brushing against your hip.

you turn around as the man sits back in his chair. you place your hands on either side of the arm, giving yourself some support as you lower your ass over his crotch, hovering and moving side to side, teasing before you finally press down, letting your ass roll over his crotch and thighs.

“you like that?” you ask with a smirk, but the man know he doesn’t need to answer, not when you can certainly feel his excitement growing in his pants.

you continue your lap dance for longer than usual, even parting your thighs slightly to give yourself some pleasure as well, hoping its not too noticeable for anyone watching, and you’re sure some of the other girls are staring in anger as they have to give lap dance to old drunk men.

you rise up before turning back to the man. “would you like another dance? a private one in the back?”

he nods, standing up to follow you as you lead him into the back hallway with various doors, cracked if they’re empty, and locked shut to indicate someone else had already been taken back. officially, your club is a stripclub, but its an unspoken rule that lapdance time also meant that dancer could take clients back for anything they wanted to do in private, and that money would stay solely with the dancers, not needing to give the bouncers or bartenders a percentage. 

“whats your name, handsome?” you ask, gesturing him into one of the empty rooms, the lights already low, red velvet couches pushed up on either side of the wall with a small table in the center. the room is small, but plenty of space for just the two of you.

“rafe.” he answers with a smirk, hand coming to your waist, touching the bare skin there. “and money is no object so whatever we do, don’t worry, i can afford it.” he pulls a bill out his pocket to prove it, tucking it again into your panties.

“hot and rich, i like that.” you hum.

“is there anything thats not allowed?” rafe asks, fingers rubbing over your sides, clearly excited to get started.

“wear a condom. no hitting or leaving any sort of marks on my body. any hard kinks, you need to tell me beforehand.” you explain quickly, having gone over the spiel with other customers before.

“just wanna fuck you.” rafe smirks, his voice deep and alluring, making you for once feel yourself getting excited about sleeping with one of the clients.

“why don’t you sit down then?” you gesture to the couch. rafe sits down with the same smirk on his face, his arms resting on the back of the couch as you begin to dance, able to hear the music from the main lounge of the club, using it as your tempo as you move your body, slowly taking off your lingerie under rafes watchful eye.

you get yourself completely naked, all while rafe watches you with that same look on his face, clearly growing in his pants, his cock pushing against the zipper.

you kneel down between his legs, tossing your hair to the side while you rub over his cock before undoing the button teasingly slow, followed by his zipper. “so big.” you coo. it’s usually what you say to make your average sized customers feel better, but for once you mean it with rafe.

“gonna suck me, cherry?” rafe asks, your eyebrows raising slightly when you realize that he remembered your name from when it was announced on stage before your set. “get that pretty red lipstick all over my cock?”

you tug his pants down in response, taking his underwear down with it as you watch his cock spring free, already hard and pulsing with need.

“gotta put a condom on for oral too.” you remember suddenly, having gotten so excited you almost started sucking him without it.

“aw, come on, i promise i’m clean.” rafe says, his voice so sickly sweet you hesitate, but remember the horror stories of other strippers getting stds from breaking rules.

“sorry handsome.” you shake your head, grabbing a condom out of the bowl on the table before sliding it over his cock. you make up for the condom quickly by sinking your lips over his dick, the red lipstick transfering onto the condom instead as you suck.

“oh, thats good.” rafe moans, leaning back against the couch as you bob your head, his hands moving to your hair.

you work your tongue against his cock as you suck, pulling out all the skills that you’ve learned in your years of working in clubs. you resist the urge to smirk as rafe moans loudly, not afraid to have his noises of pleasure heard.

you nuzzle yourself against rafes abs as his cock slides down your throat, swallowing repeatedly to not gag as you deepthroat him. you go to pull off when rafe pushes you back down, his hips lifting to keep your lips pressed against his pelvis.

you flutter your eyes closed and breathe for your nose as rafe pumps forward, lifting his hips off the couch to fuck his cock down your throat. you hum, creating vibrations around his dick while rafe grips your hair, tugging you down to meet his thrusts.

you are about to tap out, needing to take a real breath when rafes cock throbs in your mouth and pulls you off, your scalp burning slightly from rafe using your hair to tug at you.

“god, you’re good, i was about to cum.” rafe groans, relaxing back into the couch as you’re still kneeled below him, wiping away the spit that has fallen down onto your chin.

“how do you wanna fuck me?” you ask, standing up over rafe.

“hands and kneels, cherry.” rafe stands, shucking his pants off of where they are pooled around his ankles.

you climb onto the couch, arching your back to present your ass to rafe. he rubs his hands over your bum before rubbing his fingers through your folds, surprised to find how wet you already are.

“you're actually turned on, huh?” rafe smirks, taking his cock and rubbing it through your folds. 

“yeah.” you whine, trying to push your hips backwards, to get him inside of you.

“damn cherry, you're acting like you're the one paying me here.” rafe laughs, and you know you should be more professional, and maybe you would have if rafe would have asked you to ride him, but being bent over the couch, waiting for his big cock to enter you has you actually turned on for the first time when with a client.

“come on.” you moan, arching your back to present your cunt to rafe, which finally has him satisfying your wishes, sliding forward as his cock stretches you open.

“fuck.” rafe groans, instantly snapping his hips forward, slick sounds echoing around the empty room as he moves.

you finally remember that you’re the stripper here and begin to push your hips back onto him, meeting every one of his thrusts. as soon as you start to move, rafe grabs onto your hips to help out, slamming your bodies together.

“such a pretty pussy, cherry.” rafe says, hands squeezing your hips, just gentle enough to not leave bruises.

“such a big cock.” you compliment right back. “feels so good in me.”

“yeah, you like this big dick, huh?” rafe smirks, moaning when your cunt clenches down on him. you’re determined to make him cum quickly, despite not wanting it to be over any time soon, you also want to impress rafe and show off your skills.

you spread your legs a little more and press yourself forward so you can sink down onto your elbows, giving rafe a whole new angle, which you can tell he likes from the groan that escapes his lips.

“so good for me, gonna have to come back here and fuck you more often.” rafe says, hips grinding into your ass.

“yeah, yes, please.” you whine out, reaching between your legs with one hand to rub at your clit, knowing you shouldn’t worry about yourself and just focus on rafes pleasure, but your clit is pulsing and begging to be touched as you massage it.

“such a dirty whore.” rafe says, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

rafe continues to fuck you hard while you get yourself closer to the edge, surprised how easily your high is building as rafes cock pumps into you.

“you close cherry? can feel you clenching round me.” rafe asks, sliding his hands to your ass, grabbing your cheeks and spreading them open, using the grip on your bum to continue to pull your hips back onto his cock.

“yeah, real close.” you moan, making sure to exaggerate your noises, hoping it would spur rafe along, and it does as he starts to moan incessantly, panting out a mix of curse words and your stage name.

“gonna cum.” he manages to warn seconds before he releases inside of the condom, grinding his hips into you as it triggers your own orgasm, fingers rubbing speedily as you cum, slumping into the couch as shivers rack your body.

rafe keeps himself lodged inside of you until your highs are thoroughly rode out. he pulls out with a groan, not able to help himself as he brings a hand to smack your ass, not hard enough to leave a print despite your no hitting rule, but you let it slide, especially as your wetness drips onto the couch.

“did i wear you out cherry?” rafe smirks, taking the condom off and tossing it into the trashcan before getting his clothes back on.

“fuck yeah you did.” there’s no use denying it, rafe can tell by the way you’re still breathing heavily.

“can you hand me a towel.” you point towards a small rack by the door that rafe hadn’t noticed before, clean towels stacked neatly on it. rafe grabs one of the washcloths, stepping over to you as you manage to turn yourself to sit upright on the couch.

“let me, yeah?” he kneels down, one hand gently rubbing at your thighs while he wipes your fluids away from your cunt, cleaning you off with surprising gentleness.

“thanks.” you mumble as rafe tosses the cloth into the trash as you redress in what little clothing you were wearing.

“how much?” rafe asks, pulling out his wallet as you collect the money that fell out of your waistband when you stripped for him.

you rattle off the number as rafe opens his wallet, pulling out more than enough to give you a generous tip, but he’s clearly not hurting for cash.

“do you go on again tonight?” rafe asks as you tuck the money into the cup of your bra.

“yeah, i’ve got one more number.” you nod as you head towards the door, opening it for rafe.

“i’ll stay just for you then, cherry.” rafe says, walking out the door past you with that signature smirk.

you feel your cheeks blush slightly as you watch him saunter down the hallway and then take his same seat as you rush backstage.

“tell me everything!” sugar shouts.

“oh my god,” you flop down on one of the couched, muscles still tired. “he is BIG.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645

[worldlxvlys]

PART 2 OF LAST TIME PART 2 OF LAST TIME PART 2 OD LAST TIME

maybe one last time…

chris sturniolo x poc! reader

warnings: smuttt, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public sex, ass slapping, choking, cockwarming, dry humping, grinding, getting caught, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), edging, cursing

summary: four times it was the “last time” and one time it wasn’t

a/n -> this is longggg, hence the plethora of warnings 😭

read part one for context !!

FOUR TIMES IT WAS THE “LAST TIME”:

ONE. SOMETHING IN HIS EYE.

“chris! stop moving your hand!” i giggled as i moved it back into my view.

“ok, sorry but it’s cold!” he spoke defensively, referring to the nail polish that i was applying to his fingers.

“you’re being dramatic, plus this is literally the last coat” i told him while i finished up.

“hey, i think there’s something in my eye, could you check for me?” he asked suddenly.

“uh, yeah. which one?” i asked as i shuffled closer to him on my knees.

i placed my knees on either side of his legs, cupping his jaw to make him look up at me. his hands immediately wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his lap.

“the right one” he whispered as he stared down at my lips, his grip on me tightening slightly.

“better not mess up those nails, chris” i reminded him as i gently lifted his eye lid, looking for the cause of his discomfort.

his hands gradually made their way lower and lower until they landed on my ass. i didn’t say anything, attempting to stay focused on the task at hand.

he squeezed my ass, making me jump lightly and pulling a groan from his lips. i shifted on his lap, readjusting myself so i could see what i was doing.

“blow it” he spoke suddenly, catching me off guard. “what?” i asked, unsure if i heard him correctly.

“to help clean my eye, blow on it” he clarified. “oh” i breathed out.

i leaned forward, making us impossibly close to each other, blowing into his eye.

“did i get it?” i asked as he moved his head back, blinking rapidly.

he moved slightly, causing me to feel something hard poking into my thigh. “chris” i spoke in a warning tone.

“just-please help me” he whispered, his head falling forward into my shoulder. “what about your eye?” i asked, rubbing his scalp with my fingers.

“oh- it’s fine, you got it. just please, please. i need you so bad”

“what happened to us stopping this?” i asked as he began to rut his hips into mine. “fuck, i know. i know. we gotta stop” he whispered to himself, continuing to grind himself against me.

he tilted his head up, his nose brushing against mine with his eyes closed. his jaw went slack as i pushed my hips further onto him.

he leaned forward, placing a kiss on my cheek. he placed another on the corner of my lips, moving to finally plant his lips on mine. before our lips could touch, however, the sound of his phone ringing caused us to jump away from each other.

“shit” he breathed out, reaching into his pocket to answer it.

“hello?” he answered in an annoyed tone.

yeah, there was never anything in his eye.

————

TWO. PAYING ATTENTION

“absolutely not”

“chris, you can’t stop me. i wanna watch my show while i take my bath” i shrugged my shoulders at him.

“our show” he corrected, “and i wanna watch with you. that’s the whole point” he whined, watching as i grabbed the clothes that i left in his drawer for when i ended up staying the night.

“sorry, my mind’s made. do what you gotta do to stay up to speed, i’m watching it” i told him before moving past him to his bathroom, closing the door behind me.

what i wasn’t expecting, though, was to hear a knock on the door once i was comfortable and my show was queued up.

i let out a sigh as i shouted a quick, “come in, chris!” . he came in, sitting on the edge of the tub.

i looked up at him, eyeing him curiously. his eyes met mine and he motioned towards my ipad that was playing the show, perched on top of the tray i had set up across the width of the tub.

“you said to do whatever i had to, i’m not missing a second of this show” he spoke, his eyes fixed on the screen.

i found that pretty odd, considering the fact that he barely pays attention to this show any other time we watch it together. now he just couldn’t miss a second of it? i wasn’t stupid, i knew exactly what he was doing.

“you’re not slick, chris” i told him. “i see what you’re doing here” i watched as he attempted to fight the smile growing on his face.

“i have no clue what you’re talking about” he spoke. he lasted a few more minutes before getting up from his seat on the side of the tub.

his gaze moved from the show to my body, never wavering as he pulled his shirt over his head. i did my best to hide the effect that his stare had on me, but the swishing of the water around me caused by my clenching thighs made it difficult.

“i need a better angle” he spoke, “can i get in too?”

him and i both knew that the show was the last thing he was worried about. if i was going to give in, i wasn’t making it so easy for him.

“here, i’ll just turn it so you can see it better” i spoke, moving it so he could get a better view. his face dropped as he realized there was no excuse to get in.

“i just wanna be closer to you” he spoke, his eyes softening slightly.

i’d never folded so quickly in my life.

“come on” i gestured for him to get in, moving forward to make room for him while he took off the rest of his clothes.

when he finished, he made his way into the tub behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull my body into his.

he placed a soft kiss to my shoulder, clasping the hands that were around me together and placing his chin on my shoulder while he watched the show.

i desperately tried to pay attention to the events that unfolded on the screen, but my focus was gone the second he stepped foot into the bathroom.

now my attention was directed at his hands, which started at my stomach, and slowly moved up. he stopped just under my boobs, trailing them back down to their original spot.

he began to leave open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder and neck, making his way toward my ear before stopping. while he did the same on the other side, his fingers trailed down towards my core.

“chris” i sighed out, head falling back into him while my hands gripped onto his thighs. “pay attention, baby” he whispered, gripping my jaw lightly to face the screen.

his long fingers slid through my folds, making my hips move to rub against them, craving more friction.

he pushed my hips down, keeping them still while he moved his fingers even slower, rubbing teasing circles against me. “just relax, pretty girl. let me take care of you” he spoke before sliding a finger into me.

i let out a long moan at the feeling, my fingernails digging into his skin while he stretched me out. “god, it’s been so long since i’ve touched you like this” he mumbled, watching as his finger disappeared inside of me.

he added another finger, his dick seeming to grow harder against my back with every moan that fell from my lips. “you paying attention, princess ? you just had to watch the show, right?” his words were taunting, yet he was able to speak them in a sweet, soft tone.

i nodded my head in response, not wanting to give him any reason to stop. “you sure? what’s been happening?” he asked, his tongue running against my earlobe.

“i-what?” i asked, my head spinning while he worked my tightness harder. “you said you were paying attention, right? talk to me baby, you gotta catch me up. i’ve been a little…distracted”

the second i opened my mouth to respond, he added in a third finger, pulling a choked moan out of me. i could barely recall a character’s name right now, let alone even try to take a guess at what could possibly be happening in the show. “i- i don’t know, chris. i’m sorry, i just-”

“should i stop? i wouldn’t want you to miss anymore” he was just playing with me at this point, but i was too busy chasing my orgasm to care. “no ! please, don’t stop! i’ll focus, i promise” i rambled on, telling him whatever he needed to hear to keep going.

“i think you’re just saying that” he spoke, curling his fingers to hit my sweet spot. my eyes immediately screwed shut, head falling back onto his shoulder. “you want me to keep going?” he asked, his free hand wrapping around my neck gently.

i nodded my head frantically, mouth hung open as he plunged his fingers into me. he used the grip he had on my neck to pull my head forward, facing the screen again. “watch.” he ordered sharply.

the background music of the show echoed around the room, accompanying the sound of the bath water sloshing around from the quick movements of his fingers.

for a while those were the only sounds that could be heard, apart from the occasional moans that fell from my mouth, until there was an obnoxiously loud knock on the door.

the sound made me lean forward instinctively, making his fingers rub against my clit. i couldn’t help the low moan that fell out of my mouth at the feeling, but it was low enough to be drowned out by chris’s voice, “what ?” he yelled.

“hey, we’re home. hurry up and get out here, we wanna show you something” nick spoke.

instead of stopping his movements, chris pulled me against him, covering my mouth with the palm of my hand. he moved his fingers inside of me quickly, managing to hit the perfect spot and rub my clit with his thumb.

“not stopping until you finish” he whispered into my ear in a low voice before answering his brother. “alright, i’ll be out soon" he yelled back.

“how long is soon?” nick questioned, making chris let out an annoyed sigh. “just soon nick” he spoke. nick seemed to accept that answer, as it was followed with silence.

my hands shot to chris’s bicep, gripping it tightly as i felt my orgasm creep up on me. i clenched around his fingers, signaling that i was close. “c’mon, know you’re almost there, baby. let go for me” he whispered.

my toes curled as i felt the pleasure wash over me, my moan muffled by chris’s hand. “so good for me” he whispered, leaving kisses all my face.

he stared at me for a few seconds, before speaking “god, you’re beautiful”. he began to smile as he watched me become flustered at his words.

i went to say something, but was cut off by nick’s yelling through the door, “ok, has it been soon yet?”.

———

THREE. THE COOKIES

i’m not sure how or why, but it seemed like every time our friend group hung out, i was the designated cook.

the friend group, consisting of me, the triplets, larray, tara, jake, johnnie, sam, and colby, all turned to me whenever someone complained that they were hungry.

“ok, what do y’all want me to do about that?” i asked, “last time i made myself food, you bitches ate it” i pointed out from my spot on the pool step.

“for the last time, we were hungry and you and chris were too busy fucking to answer our messages” jake spoke, “so if you wanna blame someone, blame him”

“ok, but we just ate. how could you possibly be hungry?” sam asked. “i just want a little snack, but something sweet…..maybe it’s cause i’ve just been staring at this cookie floatie under me” jake answered.

“ok, if it’ll get you to stop bitching and moaning about it, i’ll go make you some cookies” i spoke, getting up from my spot.

the group seemed to be satisfied with the answer, as everyone gave little gestures of approval.

“wait, i’ll help” chris spoke, following me back to the door of the house. “no funny business, you too. i swear if you come back here without those damn cookies, i will not hesitate to beat someone with this floatie!” jake yelled behind us.

“if you want the cookies, i suggest you shut the hell up” i yelled back, chris and i making our way inside.

“can you believe they have no faith in us?” i asked him, shaking my head as we made our way to the kitchen. “yeah…crazy” he spoke, but there was something that was off. he almost sounded…distracted ?

i turned around to try to figure out what had his attention, only to discover him checking me out. “seriously, chris?” i deadpanned.

“i’m sorry, but that bikini on you? you’re so gorgeous” he breathed out. “i mean, you look gorgeous in everything but…” he trailed off, fixing the strap that began to fall down my arm. “i’m just admiring you is all” he finished, placing a kiss on my cheek.

he walked past me, going to wash his hands while i attempted to calm my now racing heart. once i regained my composure, i grabbed the cookie mix from the pantry.

“ok, can you just grab the eggs, oil, and water for me? i’ll get the bowls and shit” i spoke to him, receiving a nod in agreement.

once we grabbed the stuff we needed, i bent over to preheat the oven. “sometimes i feel like an alien when using these fancy ass appliances. why is there no preheat button” i mumbled to myself, trying to figure out how to set it.

“chris, can you help me?” i asked, chris immediately moving to help me. he stood behind me, reaching over me to click the preheat button that i somehow managed to completely miss.

when i stood upright, i turned to face chris. “thanks” i told him, “i don’t know how i missed that”. chris’ face turned red and he didn’t say a word in response.

“chris? what’s wrong?” i asked, placing my hand on his chest gently. he grabbed my hand in his, pulling it further and further down until it rested over the large bulge in his trunks.

“you’ve been teasing me all fucking day” he spoke, turning me around and caging my body into the counter with his. he pushed my front half down, bending me over it in one swift motion.

“you think i haven’t noticed that little sway you have in your hips when you’re walking in front of me? the one that suddenly disappears around everyone else? if you wanted me to to fuck you, all you had to do was say so, baby” he spoke, landing a harsh slap on my ass, soothing it with a gentle rub to the skin.

“let’s hear it, beautiful. what do you want?” he asked. “fuck me, please. i need you chris” i told him.

“such a good girl for me” he spoke as he pulled the waistband of his trunks down, pumping himself a few times. he pulled the bikini bottom to the side, sliding his dick through my folds effortlessly.

“god, you’re so wet for me” he whispered before pushing himself inside. “my pretty girl, so fucking tight” he spoke before beginning to move.

his hips snapped into mine at brutal pace, my head immediately falling forward onto my forearms, resting on the counter. he gripped the bottom of my bikini, using it as leverage to drill into me from behind.

i bit my tongue harshly, attempting to hold back the moans that fell from my mouth, but was unsuccessful as they echoed around the kitchen.

i brought the palm of my hand to my mouth, not wanting to alert anyone of what was happening while we were supposed to be baking. every push of chris’s hips sent mine crashing into the counter, creating a continuous thudding sound.

“bet you love this, huh? fucking out here in the open, where anyone could walk in. you want everyone to know who this pussy belongs to?” he asked, squeezing my ass before giving it a slap.

i craned my neck to look back at him, “you, chris. it belongs to you, i’m yours” i cried out. his free hand slid under my bathing suit, squeezing my nipples.

my moans turned into whines as i got closer and closer to finishing. the lewd sound of skin on skin and the squelching of chris sliding in and out of my wet walls filled the space, while the thudding of my hips against the counter got louder and faster.

chris’s hands help my hips, fingernails digging into the skin as his grunts and heavy breathing echoed in my ears.

“oh my god, i’m so close chris” i moaned out, face scrunching up as i bit my lip as hard as i could. my head fell forward onto my forearms as my legs began to shake.

“yeah? come on baby, make a mess all over me” he spoke, his nose resting in the crook of my neck, his hair tickling my skin.

i let out a final cry as my orgasm washed over me, coating his dick in my pleasure. i shuddered as he continued to push himself in and out of me, chasing his own orgasm.

my slick was now dripping down my thigh, sticking to both of us as he twitched inside of me. just before he could finish, a yell made him halt his movements.

“you horny little fuckers!” i recognized tara’s voice immediately, making my head shoot up in the direction it came from. my eyes widened, mouth hanging open in shock as i tried to fully process what was going on through my post-orgasm haze.

luckily for us, tara and larray happened to be in front of the counter, meaning they couldn’t see anything from the waist down.

“did y’all even start the cookies?” larray asked, receiving blank stares from us. chris and i glanced at each other for a second, before turning back to them.

“y’all better get cleaned up and check your phones before jake comes in here with his pool floatie” he said before walking away.

THE ULTIMATE CROSSOVER ❗️(10 MEMBERS)

sam 👻🌝 4:03 pm

are the cookies almost done ?

matty b 💁🏻‍♂️ 4:11 pm

we have to stop putting them in charge of food

nick 👑 4:15 pm

i’m scared to go and check

johnnie 🧛🏻 4:17 pm

…i just wanted cookies

colby 👻🌚 4:19 pm

i was starting to feel bad about eating those pizza rolls…. i don’t anymore

jake 🕸️ 4:20 pm

i wasn’t joking about beating you two up with my floatie

larray 💅🏽 4:26 pm

…they didn’t even start making the cookies guys 😭

jake 🕸️ 4:26 pm

WHAT ??? THAT WHOLE TIME ?

tara 👅 4:26 pm

they were a little…busy

chris 🦌 4:30 pm

…. hey guys 🤗

jake 🕸️ 4:30 pm

fuck you

larray 💅🏽 4:30 pm

dw y/n got that covered already !

y/n ⭐️ 4:31 pm

and did

next time make your own damn cookies

——

FOUR. NETFLIX + CHILL 👀

chris wasn’t wearing any boxers. this was a realization that i came to earlier on in the day, when i saw his dick pressed against his sweatpants. finding this out was a happy accident, as i was simply admiring his grey sweatpants.

now matt, chris, and i were all in the living room watching a movie. the lights were off, the tv screen being the only source of illumination in the room.

chris and i shared a blanket, and i was sitting on his lap, per his request. matt was seated on the couch separate from ours, fast asleep.

my back was pressed against chris’s chest, fingers caressing his legs gently while i tried to ignore the fact that his clothed bulge was pressing directly into my core. his hand gripped my thigh, inching further and further up.

“chris” i breathed out, as his hand disappeared under my skirt. “no panties?” he asked. did i decide to take them off right before coming out to watch the movie ? possibly. he didn’t need to know that, though. “no boxers?” i countered.

“i know we said we were gonna stop, but i need you” he whispered into my ear. “can i…can you warm me? i need to feel you so bad” while he spoke, he used his fingers to spread around my arousal, “you’re so wet, this just from sitting on my lap?”

“yes, please chris. want you so bad” i whispered, squirming on top of him. i lifted myself off of him, letting him pull his his pants down to free his dick.

“you gotta stay still for me baby” he spoke, lining himself up with my entrance and pushing the tip in. i lowered myself onto him slowly, biting my lip to hold back a moan when he bottomed out.

he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him while we continued to watch the movie. “so tight, could cum just from this” he groaned into my ear. i craned my neck back to look at him, enjoying the effect i had on him.

his eyes were screwed shut, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. he was very clearly trying to hold back, his grip on my hips tightening.

“what are you thinking about, chris?” i asked, keeping my voice low enough to avoid waking matt up. “i wanna fuck you so bad” he whispered back, burying his nose in the crook of my neck.

he took a long inhale, softly moaning into my skin as his hot breath tickled me. “you smell so good, you know this perfume drives me insane” he breathed out. “i wanna watch you take me until you’re shaking and screaming”

my toes curled at the thought, but i remained still on top of him. “you know what i want? i want you to fill me up until you’re dripping down my legs” i whispered, my hand sneaking under the covers to play with his balls.

he shuddered at that, his dick twitching inside of me. “wanna feel your tongue on me” i told him, using my free hand to cup his jaw. “where?” he asked, his face inching closer to mine.

“everywhere” i answered, my lips brushing his. i took his hand in mine, running it along my body. “my neck” i spoke, guiding his hand to wrap around my neck, him squeezing it out of habit. “my chest” i pushed his hand under my tank top, brushing it over my nipples. “my stomach” i moved his fingers further down my body.

i placed his hand on my clit, watching as his mouth hung open, his pupils blown wide. he closed the distance between us, placing his lips on mine softly while he caressed my inner thighs.

he kissed me slowly and gently, rubbing small circles into my skin. we stayed like that for a while, lips dancing across each other’s until we ran out of breath. when we pulled away, chris immediately began to kiss my neck.

suddenly, matt fell off of the couch he was on, the sound of his body thudding causing me to tense up and clench around chris without warning.

chris’s hips stuttered against mine, his teeth digging into my shoulder as he shot his load inside of me unexpectedly. i leaned forward, holding onto his knees while i focused on holding back a moan at the feeling.

matt’s fall seemed to have woken him up, as he began to stir. “hey guys, i think i’m gonna call it a night” he spoke groggily, barely opening his eyes as he walked off to his room.

“good night” i called after him, chris and i sitting in silence until we heard matt’s door close. without a word, i lifted myself off of chris, breathing out sharply at the feeling.

i turned around to face him, sitting down on his lap. “you sensitive ?” i asked as i began to grind against his dick. “oh my- fuck” he whined, his hands immediately moving to my waist to guide my movements.

“you wanna tease me? fine. but you’re doing it at my pace” he spoke, rocking his hips against mine. “fuck, feels so good” i moaned at the feeling of his wet dick sliding through my folds.

i leaned back, hands resting on his knees as my head flew back. the blanket that was covering us fell onto the floor, having been long forgotten. chris reached forward, pulling my tank top up to expose my tits.

“god, you’re so good. you look so perfect on top of me like this” he breathed out, looking up at me with a dazed look. i leaned forward slightly, causing his dick to slide against my clit perfectly.

“c-chris, just like that. i’m close” i moaned out. i wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling my body closer to him. his hands found their way to my ass, groping and rubbing the skin under his fingers.

“my perfect girl” he mumbled, adam’s apple bobbing as he stared up at me with a glint in his eyes. his words seemed to push me over the edge, my head falling onto his shoulder as my orgasm hit me.

i immediately felt hot spurts of chris’s cum shoot onto my stomach, while labored breaths fell from his mouth.

“i’m glad you didn’t wear any underwear” i whispered into his ear, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. i received a tight squeeze in response.

——

ONE TIME IT WASN’T THE “LAST TIME”:

“you know, i’ve noticed you call me your girl a lot” i told chris from my spot next to him on his bed. we had spent the day out with his brothers and had decided to just cuddle and relax afterward.

i looked up to see his response to my words, watching a small smile creep onto his face. “yeah, cause you’re my girl” he looked down at me, squeezing my shoulder lightly.

“but what does that mean?” i poked, wanting to hear him admit it. we both knew what it meant, but it seemed as though he would never admit it to himself, let alone say it aloud.

“it means whatever you want it to” he answered. i raised my brow at that, not satisfied with his answer. “but what do you want it to mean?” i asked.

“you know what i want it to mean” he answered, "you want me to show you?” he asked, taking my hand into his own to play with.

“it’s just…you only say it in bed” i pointed out, shrugging my shoulders and looking away from him. “i can’t tell if you actually mean it or if you’re just saying it cause you know i like to hear it”

he hooked a finger under my jaw, turning it so i was facing him. “of course i mean it. honestly? i just didn’t wanna freak you out or anything, we both know we’re scared to take this any further. i wouldn’t want to cross any boundaries or anything”

“i’m pretty sure our lack of boundaries is the issue here” i deadpanned, earning a chuckle from chris. “i know, i just…” he let out a sigh before continuing, “i just can’t help what i say when i’m with you sometimes. it’s like we’re so close and intimate in the moment, how could i not tell you what i’m thinking? but i’ve never once told you anything during sex that i didn’t mean, i need you to believe that”

“ i do” i answered, fully believing him. “i just wasn’t so sure is all, but i am now” i told him, staring at our intertwined fingers.

“so, i’m your girl?” i asked, a bashful smile growing on my face. “yeah, you like that?” he asked, tilting his head at me, receiving a nod in response.

“so….you wouldn’t have a problem with me marking you up?” i asked, looking up at him through my lashes. my hands crept under his shirt, pushing it further and further up. “of course not, i want everyone to know who i belong to” he said.

“good” i whispered, ducking my head down to suck on the skin of his stomach harshly. i held his hips down, staring up at him as i soothed the dark spot with my tongue. i watched his breathing speed up, pulling his shirt off to give me easier access.

i left hickies going up his stomach, his chest, and neck. i paid special attention to his sweet spot right under his ear, earning a low groan from him. when i pulled away to admire my work, he immediately pulled me closer to place his lips on mine.

i smiled into the kiss at the sudden movement, fingers lightly running through his hair. the kiss was delicate, both of us savoring the moment, wishing we could just stay like that forever.

the scent of his cologne filled my nostrils, the familiar smell reminding me that this was exactly where i wanted to be. it was comforting, and it provided a sense of warmth and safety, something i always felt around chris.

his lips had a faint taste of cherry to them, a result of the lollipop he was sucking on not too long ago. his hands found their way under my shirt, resting on the small of my back and moving me even closer.

i pulled away for a second, pulling my shirt over my head. he left open-mouthed kisses along my neck and collarbone, his hand sneaking into my shorts.

“chris” i moaned out, his fingers leaving teasing strokes against my panties. “what’s wrong baby?” he asked, as though he didn’t know what he was doing. i countered his action by rubbing his stomach, my fingers dancing along the waistband of his pants.

“fuck” he groaned out breathlessly, his face falling into the crook of my neck. “was there something you needed?” i asked as his hips began to buck up into my hand. “fuck you” he groaned out, while my hand grazed his clothed bulge.

“been waiting for you to” i countered, receiving a harsh slap to my ass in response. i couldn’t help letting out a moan at the sudden action, the wet spot in my panties growing. “so fucking impatient, i don’t know if you deserve to cum” my eyes widened at his words, head immediately shaking in disapproval.

he turned me so i was laying on my back, pulling my shorts and panties down in one swift motion. “chris, pl- oh!” i cut myself off with a moan at the feeling of chris’s face having been shoved into my wetness.

“oh my god” i moaned out, legs pulling together instinctively, pushing his face even deeper into my heat. my hands flew up to his hair, gripping on whatever strands they could and tugging.

chris moaned against me at the feeling, making my head fly back as loud cries fell from my lips. he alternated between leaving kitten licks and pulling my folds into his mouth and sucking. he moved his tongue up, focusing on my clit while he poked a finger at my entrance.

“chris, no teasing please. i- fuck” my hips snapped up as he left a slap to my clit. “you’re gonna take whatever i do to you, unless you don’t wanna finish” he lifted his head to speak, his face glistening in my slick.

“i- yes, yeah. sorry” i spoke in shock, taken off guard by the sudden edge to his tone. when he moved away from me fully, i rolled my eyes, annoyed that he edged me.

he rid himself of the rest of his clothes without a word, his hard dick springing free. he slapped his length against my clit a few times, earning a whine from me. “i hope you know, i caught that eye roll” he spoke, glaring down at me.

“fix the attitude cause i promise, you don’t want me to fix it for you” he spoke before lining himself up and pushing inside of me. he waited until i signaled i was ready before moving his hips at a brutal pace.

he thrusted inside of me so deeply, i was left speechless as he knocked the wind out of me. i had no clue what had gotten into him but i loved it.

“you ok, princess? need me to slow down?” he asked, his eyes taking in my already fucked out appearance. i shook my head frantically at the question, willing him to keep up his pace. “i’m good, i’m good. keep going, feels so good” i rushed out.

“good, tell me if that changes” he spoke between grunts of his own. his hands rested on either side of my face, his biceps flexing as he supported his weight on the bed.

i caught his lust-filed gaze on my covered tits, staring as they bounced in my bra. i reached behind me, unclasping it and throwing it to the side, a moan falling from chris’s lips.

he moved his face down, his mouth attaching to one, licking and lightly biting it. my hands flew to his back, nails digging into his skin leaving bright red marks. “yes, yes, yes chris” my moans came out as choked sobs, eyes rolling back into my head.

“i’m close chris, please don’t stop” i moaned out. “hold it” he ordered immediately. “no, no i can’t chris. i can’t” i spoke, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes.

“no? you want me to stop?” he asked tauntingly. “no! please don’t stop, please" i sounded pathetic, begging him like this, but i was too desperate to care.

“be patient, i’m almost there ” he spoke as he continued to pound into me. “so good for me, i got you” he whispered, his praise caused me to clamp down on him, pulling a long groan from his mouth.

“cum with me, make a mess all over me” he spoke, causing me to let go. my juices spilled out all over him, while thick ropes of his cum coated my walls. when he pulled out, he watched our pleasure drip out of me.

“shit, chris” i breathed out, focusing on regulating my breathing. “are you ok? you’re not hurt, are you?” he asked, worry filling his face as he looked over my body.

“no, i’m ok i promise” i reassured him “that was insane” i spoke, bowing my head into his chest and laughing lightly. he moved my face toward his direction, “don’t hide from me, you being a freak is nothing new” he joked, earning a light slap to the chest from me.

“i’m glad you liked it” he spoke, a cheeky grin on his face. “i loved it” i whispered, pulling him into a hug.

once chris cleaned us both up, checking to make sure i was okay again, we went back to cuddling. “can i ask you something?” chris asked, his thumb mindlessly drawing shapes onto my skin.

“always” i answered back, looking up at him. “hypothetically, if there was this girl i wanted to ask out-” he started, before i stopped him. “are you serious? there’s no way you’re asking me for advice about another girl right now. you were literally just telling me i was yours and now you’re trying to ask out someone else?” i asked, staring up at him incredulously. what was wrong with him?

“ok, maybe that wasn’t the best way to ask” he spoke, narrowing his eyes in thought. “chris, are you kidding me right now? you seriously-” “it’s you” he cut me off.

“i just wasn’t sure how to ask, and i figured who would know better than you, right? but i see now how that was a dumb way to do it and i’m sorry for worrying you” he finished.

“oh my god, chris. you’re an idiot” i spoke hitting him upside the head. “ow! i’m sorry” he spoke defensively. “i should tell your ass no for the emotional trauma you just put me through”

“i did say hypothetically, though”

“what if i hypothetically beat your ass?”

“i’m still waiting for an answer” he pointed out. “you know, for someone who’s so big on patience, you sure don’t seem to have any yourself” i spoke, squinting my eyes at him.

“of course i’ll go out with you, chris” i answered.

“good. cause i wanna show off my girl”

the way i lowkey just fed y’all five fics in one 🤭

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nickgetsmewetter @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[syrma-sensei]

→ Hush Hush Behind The Shield.

gif credit.

pairing: soldier boy/ben x wife!reader.

rating: explicit.

warnings: vought's ungodly shenanigans, mentions of cheating, couple fighting, angst, misogyny, antiquated mentality, dub-con, power imbalance, fingering, forced orgasms, angry sex, cock riding...

word count: 3.4k

summary: being america's greatest hero's wife has its perks, but they don't come for free...

taglist: @zepskies, @deansbbyx, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deans-spinster-witch, @venus-haze, @thebiggerbear...

A/N: I'd like to thank my two pretty moots, @kaleldobrev who's been always there for me, listening to mental blurbs and chaotic spews of unhinged ideas and continuous mind dump ❤️ and @zepskies who bares my energy, which can be a bit much, each time I spam her dms with life cringing memes and awaful reacts ❤️

Kneeling down on one knee, your mitted hands hoisted the oven door close as you hummed a melody to yourself. Turning on your heels, you stood up and gave the dining table a once-over before allowing a proud grin slip on your lips.

“Perfect.”

Then your eyes glanced at your watch. It was half an hour past seven in the evening. Perfect. There'd be enough time to pamper yourself in a relaxing shower and spruce up with no rush before your husband was home.

You gave the dining room another glimpse to make sure everything was in place before you headed to the bathroom upstairs, walking through the living room where the T.V. displayed a Soldier Boy anti-drugs commercial.

A snore escaped your nose upon hearing the phrase: “Just say no.” Remembering how your husband threw a fit behind the scenes at how stupid it was, to the point of getting Stan Edgar himself on the line for him to find an alternative to it. Because no way he was saying that shit.

“God, I sounded like a fucking douchebag,” He'd told you in his dressing room, a smouldering reefer hanging between his lips — the irony, after they wrapped filming up.

You'd giggled, playfully plucking it from his lips to take a drag of your own, “No, baby, you did just fine.” You purred, and his mouth curled up into a small grin, “The public needs that y'know…” You tipped his chin up, your polished, long nails grazed lightly to his skin, “You're America's golden son, right? You're the man everyone should look up to.”

“Damn sure they should.” He'd chuckled, leaning down for a kiss which you gladly welcomed.

Being Soldier Boy's wife came with many many perks, but it also had its downsides, one of which was to have to deal with his short temper. But what could you say? You loved the man. Ardently so; you literally fought the world to have him all for yourself despite Vought's disapproval of your nuptial.

You savoured the victory when you married Ben in a small ceremony without Vought's blessing. It was like a slap to them when Ben imparted upon them the happy news, he delivered them a severe black eye, especially the vainglorious bastard Edgar. Who had once told you that you and Ben wouldn't work out, for it was simply "inconvenient" for a superhero like Soldier Boy to be involved in a serious relationship with a mere… human; it'd be a "disappointment" in the public eye, as he put it. Like he had a say in the matter.

But here you were, with a ring on your left hand to swagger about, and happily married to America's first hero, Edgar and Vought could say hello to your middle finger.

To nobody's surprise, you resented Vought, and held such abhorrence against them for not letting you and your husband live the life you wanted for yourselves. Despite your personal efforts, your proclaimed triumph was soon cut short because Vought declined to go public and endorse your marriage. Not that you and your husband gave two shits about their approval, but the rules were rules. And their lawyers affirmed that a public exposure of your marriage might damage Soldier Boy's rep, therefore, Vought's; given the fact that you were more than thirty years younger than him. They couldn't have it said that the hero of heroes was a creep even though they'd tried to conceal his age when he and Phoebe Cates starred in Love And War because it started to seem fishy. It was expected, though. But what you didn't see coming was Ben's response, or lack of response as to put it.

Despite being even more obdurate about this marriage than yourself. You felt terribly abjured by your husband. You'd thought he'd fight for you, for what you both had, and he'd want to let the world know about you. It'd broken your heart when it dawned upon you that Ben wouldn't risk his fame and glory for anyone, for you. Reluctantly, you bit the bullet, you had to, for him, because you loved him, and would do anything to keep this marriage intact. If you had to compromise for it, then so be it. You didn't care.

To your solace, Ben never changed after the frustrating incident; he was still the man you fell in love with. He might be smug, crass, and insufferable to everyone but you could still perceive the tender side he had though he'd never actually admit it, and you never pushed him too much. You were subtle enough to know when to stroke his ego and when to tease it. He was a man, after all. But it was obvious; he was a doting husband who cherished you in his own way. He showered you with gifts, and pampered you when he could. And he was eager to have babies with you. He never ceased to express how rapturous he would be if he were to have a son. A child with you.

Sure, you had your own qualms about that particular day, and there was more than a time you wanted to have a conversation with him about it. But you couldn't bring yourself to screw it up with stupid doubts. If Ben hadn't truly loved you, he wouldn't have treated you the way he did, he wouldn't have brought you to his workplace to have you at his side — and to poke Vought's eye every single time. He wouldn't have let you in and told you about his family and his dad, about his fucked-up childhood and how he became a hero.

No, your bond was bigger than any fleeting thoughts of incredulity.

You crooned softly as you wrapped a towel around your body after you finished your shower. Stepping out, you rubbed your hair with another towel and made your way down towards the kitchen to check on the pie.

Oh, Ben liked pies. You found it amusing how he'd swallow a whole pie alone and wouldn't affect him one bit; a supe sure required a lot of calories. Sometimes, you wished you had his great metabolism.

The moreish scent of baked dough and chocolate told you it was ready. You opened the oven door with a protected hand and placed the delicious pie by the window to let it cool down while you dressed up.

On your way back to your bedroom, you padded through the living room again. Your eyes glanced fleetingly at the screen only to stop abruptly in your tracks. A slight frown made it to your face as you saw a picture of Ben and Crimson Countess together. You never liked Countess. Something about her always disturbed you, and your guts were right.

Your eyes roamed the headline over and over, dilating in stupor.

Breaking News: Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess are officially together, Vought announced.

You shook your head in disbelief, hand grasping the remote control from the couch, shivering fingers shuffling through the channels.

Soldier Boy finally found the one!

Your heart paced up with each press.

A long awaited power couple is now here!

Vought just shocked the world by—

And here's Soldier Boy and Countess's statement…

It was hard to quell your simmering anger when you saw your husband smiling face with that bitch between his arms. Camera flashes and clicks swarmed around them with an entourage of reporters and interviewers.

“Hey, Soldier Boy, now you're together, what can you tell us about the first time you saw Countess? Was it love at first?” A reporter asked.

Ben scratched his beard with his gloved hand, drawling “First time I met Tess was when Vought concocted a hero collab years ago, remember that honey?”

You did remember that event very clearly. You were still Ben's secret girlfriend at the time, and it was exclusive to superheroes, yet Ben brought you there as his date.

Ben grinned as if dreamily reminiscing about the memory as he continued, “And lemme tell ya one thing, this one is a firecracker.”

Countess giggled playfully, gazing up at your husband in the most flirtatious way, it made you gag with disgust.

You scoffed bitterly at the blatant lies spurting right in your face. That specific night, Ben had childishly grumbled and complained about how much he wanted to be out of there. And to spice things up, he playfully dragged you from the pristine hall the event took place in, and fucked you raw against one of the wall of some other hall, keeping your panties as a souvenir for the rest of the soirée. He kept teasing you through the entire night, riling and messing you up. At the time, it was thrilling and venturous. Now, however, it knotted at the tip of your stomach. His focus that day was solely on you. He wasn't even aware of the bitch's presence for all you care.

“And when I first saw her… knew she was the one….”

You couldn't comprehend what Ben said after that point as a deafening buzz bolted through your ears. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and soon they were streaming from your eyes as you stood numb on your spot. Your tears splattered on the ground along with your heart.

“Honey, I'm home.” Ben announced once he stepped in the house. He sighed, putting his shield down and making his way to the kitchen where you usually would be, making his dinner. He didn't take his boots off though he knew you'd throw a fit about it, but let's just say that teasing and screwing with you was his favourite hobby. His anticipating grin soon dropped and a small scowl knitted his brows when an odd mixture of scents wafted into his nose. His eyes dilated at the unusual messy scene in the kitchen; the table was flipped over, glass splints scattered all over the floor, freshly-cooked food covering the carpet beneath the dining table, and a chocolate pie was squashed into the wall.

With a pacing heart, Ben cried your name, and hurriedly climbed up the stairs. His feet darted to the bedroom when he heard you sniffling and weeping.

An audible sigh of relief flouted out of chest when he saw you. Your hair was wet and a damp towel wrapped around your body, but his eyebrow quirked up when he noticed you packing a bag on the bed. The fuck?

“(Y/N), the fuck is going here?” You scared the shit outta me. He wanted to say, after the shitty day he had, he just wanted to have you in his arms and play with your hair.

You startled for a moment when you heard his southern accent. You used to be fond of it, but today you were certainly not.

“I'm leaving.” Your answer came out curt, your hands tugging your bag zippers close.

You heard his footsteps getting closer until you felt his hand on your bare shoulder, “What happened to you, sweetheart?”

You pulled yourself away from his hold, hissing, “Don't you fucking touch me!”

He didn't seem to heed your warning as he reached a hand to your face. Gritting your teeth, you spun around with your hand ready to deliver a slap to his cheek. However, and no matter how fast and pissed you were, he was always quicker and alerter. Fucking supe.

“You don't get to touch me ever again you asshole!” You shrieked, yanking your wrist from his grasp, your wet hair stuck to your face, chest heaving with each breath. 

“The fuck is wrong with you, woman?!” He growled with a deep scowl, “Just left you all happy and giggling in the morning, is it here? Your time of the month again?”

“Fuck you!” You spat, clenched hands rising up to his chest, “You're my fucking problem,” You jabbed a fist to chest, though he didn't move an inch, but damn didn't it feel good! You blew another punch to his stupidly firm chest again and again.

“Fucking Christ!” He grumbled, and with one strong arm, Ben wrangled your back against his chest and caged you in his steel hold, one hand securing both of your wrists above your head, “Calm the fuck down!”

Legs kicking and hands tugging, you tried to wriggle out of his arms but to no avail, you felt so helpless against his raw strength. Your anger and frustration poured out of your mouth in a wailing, broken voice, “Leave. Me. Alone!” You bellowed, “Go to your fucking Crimson Bitch!” Two rivulets of tears drizzled from your eyes again, “Go to your fucking Tess and let her fire-crack your nuts, you fucking pussy!”

“Christ on a cross, do you hear yourself talk, woman?!”

His eyes widened before his eyebrows scrunched deeply. He took you off guard when he brought you down to the floor as he crouched on one knee. Your towel unwrapped at the sudden movement and you were naked beneath his eyes. His hands were still holding you in place.

Two green eyes regarded you softly, “You really took that marketing shit for real?” He thumbed your lower lip, and his free hand trailed down your naked form. “Fucking hell, thought you were way smarter than that, sweetheart.” You shivered from both the cold and his touch, his sinful reaching your mound, “You really think I'd fucking leave you for her?”

You couldn't suppress the moan when he stroked your throbbing clit. A shot of arousal seeped out of your opening much to Ben's satisfaction. Anger made the colour of your face rise, “Fuck you! Fuck your bitch! Fuck Vought!” You spat, your eyes burning holes into his as he proceeded toying with your flesh until your voice broke, “Y-You want me to buy your shit — Ah!” Two of his thick and expert digits entered your slit, massaging your love spots thoroughly. “After you didn't stand up for our marriage?!” You groaned, hips rolling to the rhythm of his fingers.

“Is that so?” His brow quirked up amusedly. Was this funny to this bastard? Was your marriage some kind of a joke to him?

You gasped as he deliberately hit your weak spot; sweet, delightful coils fluttered at the tip of your stomach, “I was under the fucking impression that you had your pretty, little head wrapped around how this fucking business worked!” He snarled.

“Fuck you! I hate you!” Your body snapped as you came abundantly on his fingers which made him grin slyly down at you.

You felt his grip on your wrists loosen, so you took your window and jerked yourself free. He was shocked when you pushed him down on the floor and straddled his hips, your dripping cunt was drenching his pants with your cum. He raised a playful brow at you but soon was replaced by a shocked frown when you slapped his irritatingly handsome face.

“Fucking hell, you fucking little ballbuster—”

You shushed him with a finger on his lips, “You're fucking mine, Benjamin, you hear me! You're fucking mine!” You hissed, having no idea where your vigour came from as you tore his shirt off of his chest. His length poked you when you gazed with searing fire in your eyes at his, “You. Belong. To. Me.” You furiously tucked his pants and boxers down, his cock springing out with life.

A wanton moan came off your lips as you sunk yourself down his cock, whereas he grumbled in pleasure as you hugged him tightly with your wet and warm insides.

You snapped your hips harshly and he growled, “Fuck, doll—!”

Another snap, your voice was laboured, “I own you. You're married not to that whore, not to Vought, but to me!”

Your skin slammed against his meat vehemently as you gritted your teeth when another orgasm was spiralling in your body. You paced up your movement, a hand banging demandingly on his chest, “Say it! You're fucking mine!”

“Holy shit!” You watched his eyes roll backwards as he rasped, “Yours, babe,”

“Holy fuck, Ben! Ben, I'm coming again!”

That was his cue to take control again. He sat up, cradling you in his warm hold, “Cum to me, babe, fucking soak my cock.” You wabled his name, clinging to his shoulders as your climax stormed out of your body like a mad hurricane. You whimpered pathetically when his two large hands on your hips kept making you ride him through your high.

“Fucking stupid girl,” He growled, shooting his seed up your insides.

With laboured breaths, you glared at each other. You felt his cock softening inside of you, “Fucking idiot man.” You scoffed.

He chuckled with a boyish grin on his sweaty face, “That was fucking hot, think I like this wild side of you, darlin'”

You snickered, “You bet, wait until you see what I'm gonna do with that little fuck, Edgar.”

Ben rumbled a deep chortle, much to your annoyance, would this man ever take you seriously? “I swear to fucking Christ, Ben, if they—you don't break off that stupid shit with Countess and go public about us, I'll fucking burn that fucking tower to the fucking ground, because I'm fucking done with this—mhmmm!”

He cut you off with a scorching kiss and its heat made you thaw against his lips. His cock twitched inside of you.

“Jealousy looks pretty on you though, sweetheart” He teased, his lips brushing to yours.

God, damn this man and his endless ego! “Ben!” You nudged him playfully.

“Can't wait to see you wanting to snatch some ladies' heads off when we go to balls together.”

You smiled at him, biting on your bottom lip. The idea of finally being acknowledged as Ben's wife warmed your heart, and his willingness to do so made your heart race. However, disturbing thoughts loomed in your head again, “Think Vought will let us be?” You asked with hesitation. Fuck, that shit really got too deep into you.

He rolled his eyes, “Try not to work your pretty head hard 'bout this, doll,” He tucked a tress of your hair behind your ear, “The man who fucking beat the Nazis can handle some sweaty fucknuts at Vought.” There was something warmly reassuring about his smugness.

“See? All that shit wouldn't happen if you didn't stay silent while they fucking tried to play their fucking game!”

Ben chuckled, “Well, the fucking was totally worth it.”

You groaned in frustration, “Ben… I thought you abandoned me.”

Your husband furrowed his brows at you, “You women hardly think sometimes, don't you?” You scowled at his remark but he sighed, cradling your cheeks in his warm hands, “I fucking fought to make you my wife. I fucking put my whole career and name at risk for you.” You blinked at him, “The day before we tied our knot, I fucking told the boardroom that I was marrying you, that I'd fucking walk off if they tried anything funny… they didn't, till fucking today.” He sighed, “They fucking announced that bullshit before I was even told.”

“Assholes,” You whispered.

“After that pathetic act, I fucking stormed to Edgar like I stormed Normandy. Let's say that he and I did a little bit of chatting,” He gave you a conceited smirk, giving you no detail of how he got scared shitless when he saw the mess in the kitchen. He thought Vought dared to fucking do something to you. And when he heard you cry he feared the worst. But of course, he wouldn't tell you anything about that. Because he was the fucking man of this house; if his feelings of fear appeared, the sense of security he provided to this house, to you, would crumble. And he wouldn't have that. Ever.

You, on the other hand, had a weird combination of pride and happiness sprouted within your chest.

“I'm so sorry, Ben…” You said, cupping his face in your hands, “I-I don't know what came over me when I saw you with her,” You couldn't even say her name.

“Couldn't have your man stolen away, could you?” He teased you.

“Never.” You answered, “And I'm sorry for what happened, husband.”

“I mean you did make it up for me, wife,” He flashed you a cheeky grin, “Though, I don't feel particularly in a forgiving mood… yet.”

Head tilting to the side, your raised an eyebrow, rolling your hips teasingly on his cock, “Don't push your luck…”

“Try me.”