#please be patient as i figure out how to fucking draw again

[littiaye]

If you have never considered pretty Macaque before... this is my offer.

Wanted to credit the hair stick and bun inspo! No idea who the original artist is so if you do comment it or something thaaanks

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/807481408207048363/

[nariism]

neuvillette is aware that he shouldn’t have let you get so close. but he did, and now he’s lamenting the fact that your hands are grasping at his soft horns — his fucking horns, of all places — and he might like it.

uptight and strait-laced, you’ve never known the chief justice to be someone so easily flustered. yet here he is with heat crawling up his neck, so warm that you can feel it against your palms as they ghost over his skin.

you can’t help but laugh at his current situation.

he was vehemently against you coming anywhere near his hair at first, grumbling about how his horns were on the sensitive side and he would rather not have to go into work feeling uncomfortably aware of their presence on his head.

however, you were hard to deny with that little smile on your face and such soft hands grabbing at his arms, tugging him closer. a sweet voice chanting, "please, honey? pretty please?"

neuvillette has never been good at denying you what you want.

it’s how he ends up sitting at your shared vanity. you comb through his long hair, watching him with amusement in the mirror as he huffs and jolts with every brush of your fingers against his horns.

the fact that he was letting you get anywhere near them was surely a testament to his trust in you. he was completely vulnerable here, at your mercy.

“sorry,” you mumble disingenuously, clearly enjoying seeing your usually serious husband falling apart with a simple action. you quickly tie off the end of his hair with a bow and he sighs in relief, thinking that the torment is over.

it's far from over.

he draws a sharp breath when you lean forward and press two gentle kisses on him; one on either side of his head just beside his horns.

neuvillette glowers at you in the reflection, disapproval written all over his face. "stop that," he scolds.

you do, but only because you're worried he might melt into a puddle before your very eyes if you continue.

it becomes a daily routine after that, with him sitting patiently in front of the mirror while you brush and tie off his hair. and you always end it the same way: two kisses, a soft "have a good day at work," murmured against him, and a mischievous little smile that makes him sigh.

he responds everyday with the same two words. "stop that," with a narrow-eyed glare.

the day you do stop, he's confused and irritated.

not only because you have the audacity to throw a wrench into routine again, which you know he hates, but also because he can't figure out why he misses your lips so much.

"what are you doing? i am going to be late."

"hm?" you peer up lazily from your spot on the bed, still half asleep.

"you have to do my hair."

"i thought you didn't want me to, so i slept in today."

your husband is eerily silent for a moment as he mulls over your words. then, he carefully perches himself on the edge of the bed, back turned to you expectantly and still wordless.

no, he would never admit he likes it just a little bit — the vulnerability, the trust, the feeling of your hands threading through his hair, the intimacy of it. hell no.

but neuvillette doesn't have to say a lot of things for you to understand; not when the way his skin heats up says it all; not when you're the first person to touch his horns in centuries; not when he’s saying stop that with such an affectionate glimmer in his eyes.

you give him four kisses that morning, two on either side.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“You’ve fallen for them, haven’t you?” Price asked, following Simon’s line of sight, his eyes landing on your figure.

Your laughter filled the air, causing a smile to form on both the men’s lips. They’d been watching you for the last few minutes, casually joking about with Soap.

Simon was quiet as his mind filled with thoughts of you. The way you always smiled at him, even in the worst of times. The way you laughed so care free, a laugh that could cure any ailment Simon could possibly have. The way you cared for him, more than he’d ever had someone care for him in his life.

Prices eyes drifted back toward Simon, a small smile dancing on his lips. “It warms an old man’s heart you know.”

Simon looked over at his captain, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s that?”

“I’ve known you for how many years, Simon?” Price rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he held Simon’s gaze. “Never once have I seen you smile the way you do around them. You deserve to be happy, son.”

Simon let Price’s words sink in, the prospect of being with you in that way was not entirely unwelcome for Simon. But he was scared. Simon was such a broken mess of a man that he truly believed nothing could piece him back together.

Price stood, drawing Simon’s attention back to him, and clasped Simon’s shoulder firmly. “Don’t let that thick skull of yours prevent you from being happy. Take it from someone who knows.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon found you again later that day, his palms sweaty from his nerves. “Hey, you got a sec?”

You looked up from the stack of paperwork in front of you, the warm smile lining your lips as you looked at Simon had his knees nearly buckling. “Of course.”

Any confidence Simon had walking in there, was now gone as he stared down at you. Your E/C eyes melting his insides as he struggled to formulate the words he’d just practiced earlier.

“I..” Damnit! What was wrong with him? He was Simon fucking Riley for god sakes. He was supposed to be fearless. Yet here he was rendered a stuttering mess in front of you. “Fuck.”

You let out a soft giggle, causing Simon’s insides to warm. “Is everything okay, Si?”

Your nickname for him always had Simons brain in a fog, and it certainly wasn’t helping his case in this moment. “Yeah, yeah I just uh..”

You patiently watched as Simon struggled to form the words, your smile never faltering as his eyes drifted toward your lips.

“Are you free later?” He finally asked, his words coming out rushed.

“Is there a training?” You pondered, your mind flicking through the upcoming training schedule. “I wasn’t made-.”

“No.” Simon interjected. “It’s uh.. it’d just be you and I. There’s this pub I like to go to by base.”

Simon didn’t think it possible, but your smile widened even more, taking up the entire lower half of your face. “Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Riley?”

His cheeks burned crimson as your teasing, his belly doing flip flops as he gave you a curt nod. “Affirmative.”

“I would love that.” You said, as you stood to your feet. “It’s about damn time you asked me.”

Simon smiled brighter and wider than he’d ever had in his life, his mind now swirling with thoughts of the perfect first date. For the first time in a long time, Simon Riley was excited.

Maybe something could piece together his broken self after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: please excuse my multiple Simon fluff pieces. Ya girl has to heal🥹

[yuki-world]

那维莱特 | NEUVILLETTE ; TEACH

summary | you're just so sexually inexperienced, surely neuvillette, someone who has lived for millenniums, could teach you a thing or two about pleasuring someone?

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, slight corruption, first-time blowjob, throat bulge, face-fucking, cum swallowing, praise kink, mentions of virginity, 1.9k words

a/n : you have no idea how down bad i am. pt 2 here —> learn

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

neuvillette is not amused.

he’s always open to sharing his knowledge with others; in fact, he has been teaching you a plethora of things, more than you could’ve imagined. you admired neuvillette, he knew that very well. experience was definitely something he didn’t lack.

but some things… aren’t meant to be shared, especially not whatever you were asking for.

“its not that big of a deal,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “you said you would teach me anything.”

“please, it's unwise to joke about things like that,” neuvillette says. he looks at you for any hints of a smile, a giggle, anything to indicate that you were joking. he sees nothingー just you with your head slightly tilted, waiting patiently for his answer. quite cute, he must admit.

look, he understands that you are a curious person; you’re always up for expanding your knowledge. but isn’t this… a little too much? asking him to teach you how to give a blowjob? it's not like he didn’t have experience with… that. but this topic wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he said you could ask him anything.

but neuvillette has a soft spot for you; he’s come to grow fond of you. what started from him finding it annoying how you pester him on the daily, to him looking forward to seeing you as an escape from his work. you’re like a breath of fresh air. he has no obligation to, but he feels like it's his job to guide and protect you.

the room fills with silence, and you attempt to draw an answer out of him again. he’ll probably give in, you think. after all, he does have a soft spot for you. “oh, but i’m not joking,” you rebutted. “why won’t you teach me?” you try again, hoping your question would be answered.

its silent yet again, the lack of response making you click your tongue. its hard to figure out how he’s feeling, because the look on his face tells you nothing. that’s when you thought you could tease him a little to get a reaction out of him, if that would even work.

“how disappointing. i suppose i’ll just have to ask someone else, maybe wriothesley? i’m sure he’ll be happy to teach me.”

the mention of another man’s name has his attention back onto you immediately. sure, he’s hesitant on teaching you about pleasuring someone. but no way is he going to let you ask someone else about this; he won’t allow it. won’t even consider it. the image of you sucking another man off has him furrowing his eyebrows.

“what do you think? or maybe i should askー”

“i think that’s enough, y/n.”

at this point, you think you might’ve actually made him angry. he’s never sounded this strict with you before, it almost sounds like he’s about to give you a whole lecture on why you shouldn’t be asking for these types of things. but he doesn’t.

it’s such a dirty act, it feels terribly wrong, but he simply couldn’t deprive you of such knowledge. if something like this piques your curiosity, then he will go along with it to satisfy you.

neuvillette clears his throat, composing himself. “i will only teach you onceー once and we won’t speak about this again. does that sound alright?”

he sees your face light up in an instant, nodding eagerly. “thank you, neuvillette! i will be forever grateful!” you exclaim, and he feels his cock twitch in his pants. fuck, he thinks. you’re going to be the death of him.

“kneel for me,” he asks of you, and you lower yourself obediently. you’re directly facing his crotch, and embarrassment creeps onto you. you shy away from the image in front of you, nervously playing with your fingers. your face is flushed red no matter how hard you try to hide it.

he notices immediately, hand reaching to stroke your hair, intending to provide some sort of comfort and reassurance. “are you nervous?” he questions, and you nod slowly.

“oh, love. don’t be nervous. i’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

your heart jumps at the pet name, eyes widening. that felt way too good to hear. you don’t ask if he called you that by mistake, partially because you were too eager to proceed, but also because you didn’t want him to correct himselfー if it was even a mistake at all. “please do, neuvillette,” you urge.

he finally releases his cock from the confines of his pants, hard and erect as it lightly slaps your cheek when he pulls it out.

you almost start drooling at his length. it was so large, so long, so thick. you haven’t even put it in your mouth and you’re already starting to think about how it would feel inside you. the pink tip leaks pearly drops of pre-cum. your hands reach up to his cock immediately, and he hisses.

“eager now, are we?” he teases, while you’re still in awe over his impressive size. he silently chuckles at how you admire his length, almost like you just found treasure. “have you ever seen a cock, y/n?”

you’ve… seen a few. not in real life though, and definitely none similar to his size. it's different, in a good way, seeing it up-close. it’s even more special because it's neuvillette. “not in real lifeー not like this, no.”

“i see,” he says, exhaling as he pulls your hand off, giving himself a couple of pumps. were you really that pure? it makes him so hard.

“are you ready? listen very carefully, yes?” he guides his cock onto your lips, tapping a few times. “take it in slowly, and ensure your teeth don’t touch,” he tells you.

he taps his cock on your lips again, and you open your mouth again without any hesitation. he guides his cock into your mouth inch by inch, and you taste his pre-cum on your tongue immediately. a tad bit salty, but you can take it.

“y/nー oh…” he sighs in pleasure as he feels your mouth wrap around his cock-head. he was in heavenー your mouth was so warm and wet, he could barely control himself from fucking into your face. he should be the one composed, he should be the one staying calm, he’s the one teaching you for fuck’s sake; yet he’s the one struggling as you start taking his cock further into your mouth.

“just like that, a little moreー mmh… thats it,” his breath hitches when he feels the tip hit the back of your throat. he was so deep in, but he wanted to just thrust it in further. you took it so well, he thinks. not even gagging like he expected you to, and no teeth just like he told you to. how obedient.

you adjusted your mouth on his cock as your drool started dripping down onto your lap. your hand reaches up to stroke what you couldn’t take in, and it elicits a gasp from him. he doesn’t instruct you to, but you start moving on your own as if you’ve done it before.

you drench his cock with your saliva as you suck him off, your hands holding his thighs for support.

“such a good girl, y/n. you take my cock so wellー don’t even need to teach you,” he praises and you hum around him as a form of thanks. you take that as motivation as you suck faster, occasionally swirling your tongue on the tip. you tongue his slit, licking up every drop of pre-cum that leaks.

he throws his head back when you take him particularly deep in your throat, and he almost couldn’t take it anymore. he stops you, pulling you off his cock. copious amounts of saliva drip out, a string of saliva connecting his cock to your mouth.

this was a sight he could only ever see in his dreams. your lips swollen, cheeks flushed red, your eyes tearyー god, he loves you, he really loves you. he thinks you look absolutely beautiful even with your face covered in your own spit. this does it for him.

“stay put, and let me fuck your face, alright? can you handle it, love?” there it was again, calling you ‘love’. you’re smitten, you’d do anything after hearing him call you that. “iー i can handle it.”

neuvillette smiles, wiping off some of the drool on your face before he slides his cock inside your mouth again. “as expected of my good girl.”

his hands hold the sides of your head for stability, slowly thrusting into your mouth to test the waters. when he’s sure you’re okay, he starts fucking into your face, making sure you feel every inch of his cock down your throat.

he can’t stopー he’s addicted. truth be told, he’s been deprived of sexual pleasure for so long, it felt like heaven. you took him so deep with no complaints, you deserve so much more for being so good to him. he can’t stop thrusting into your mouthー it feels like he was fucking a pussy.

and then thoughts of fucking you invade his mind. if you’ve never given a blowjob before, surely that would mean you’ve never had sex, which makes you a virgin. fuck, he wants to take you so bad. you’d be so tight, so warm, so sweet. would you like to know about sex too, then? would you let him take you?

he’s brought back to reality as your hand grips his thighs, signaling for him to stop. he thinks he might’ve hurt you, but you continue to your administrations. he’s so close, he feels his climax approaching, but he needs slightly more.

“give me your hand,” he requests, and you raise your hand up. he takes it gently, guiding it his balls as he squeezes them. “yeahー ah, keep doing that.”

what a fast learner you are. you massage his balls as you continuing to deep-throat him. the grip on your hair was getting tighter, louder groans coming out from him. “you’re going to make me cum, love. god, i’m so close.”

he breaks when you take him in so deep, he sees a bulge in your throat. it was his last straw. “ohー fuuuck…” he thrusts into you as he blows his load straight down your throat. you didn’t even have time to taste him or even react, widening your eyes as he throws his head back.

he pants, pulling his cock out slightly till only the tip was left in your mouth, pumping out weak spurts of cum. you swallowed it all, even going so far as to licking him clean of any remnants of cum.

neuvillette is a mess. you’re a mess. he’s so far gone, he still feels the effects of his climax. he pulls you off his cock, helping you up before tucking himself back in his pants.

“are you alright, y/n? are you hurt? my apologies, i should have asked for your permission,” he caresses your cheek, referring to how he came in your mouth. you shook your head. “it’s fineー i… liked it.”

“oh? how naughty,” he scolds, smoothing your messy hair down from how he gripped it earlier. “so, was this a helpful lesson, y/n? do you know nowー how to pleasure someone?”

you nodded. “really insightful. thank you, neuvillette. but…”

“but?”

“maybe... you can teach me what an orgasm feels like next?”

“i see. i will gladly indulge.”

ー @yuki-world

[anantaru]

DAY 19 — EDGING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — zhongli, xiao, ayato

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, edging & orgasm denial, nipple play, praise kink, oral (male! receiving), petnames used: good girl & baby, dom/sub dynamics

𖧡 — ZHONGLI

patience and thoroughness, two cardinal commodities that zhongli had, without fail, used as a well fortified hold in an abundance of undertakings in his long life.

keen to obey, you immediately open your arms for him, afterwards wrapping them around his head as zhongli's warm lips patiently ghost over your chest before hovering his tongue to study the shape of your beautiful breasts, his teeth lightly taking notes of the pulsing perception on your erected nipples before concealing them with his mouth.

although in spite of that, your momentary flash of excitement to experience some sort of pleasure had soon fled a few breaths later, when zhongli abruptly pulled his mouth off your chest, licking at his wet lips before drawing himself back to brush gentle kisses all over the wet splotches on your skin— and at the start, you believed that there wasn't anything ulterior going on and that zhongli wouldn't make you suffer in such ways, yet, thinking back at it now, on how gullible you were to believe that truly only amplified the paining pleasure and yearning in you more.

soon enough, he showed you the fruits of his ministrations when you're writhing underneath his warm figure— your thighs plastered with an abundance of your arousal sticking and soiling the linen beneath you with his seedy cock messy and oozing of pre.

"you trust me, don't you?" he whispers over your lips as your hearts thud in sync with your chests pressed together, a mirage of heavy pants and whiny hiccups gradually inhaled by each other as his erection slips and prances through your quivering pussy, easing his tip as deep as it could go in as you squeeze around his girth.

"of- of course," you mewl back weakly, "but please— just once, baby, just once," and you haven't been this sensitive in ages it's almost embarrassing, harboring the weight of his well above average length swelling around the margins of your ribbed walls stole all sense of self control inside you.

but zhongli, oh how much he was enjoying this, stills his hips once again, robbing you of yet another orgasm as his hand slowly looms over to cup your cheek before exploring your face— unhurriedly tracing over to your puckered up lips, silently brushing against your brow, noticing the immediate love and how you practically melt into his palm.

fuck, you're so beautiful when you're frustrated, that much he was clear on, there was nothing more bewitching then your naked frame quivering and yearning to climax, or when you suddenly begged him for it, even when he repeatedly tells you to be patient, his cock remained crowded inside and pulsing against your creamy walls as he taps one finger above your mouth.

unhesitating, your jaw falls open to welcome two long, slender fingers slipping into the swelling of your warmth, letting zhongli's digits spread over and rub across your tongue before pressing down— for some reason, the way zhongli was watching you eagerly through golden eyes, admiring you and focusing on your face, was a bigger turn on than you originally expected and there's a fetching, delicious burn buzzing over your lower region as his girth moves again, harshly thrusting back to pick up on where he left off.

undoubtedly, he'll take his precious time to examine the rest of you— after all, rushed studies breed lousy results— and morax wanted to inspect you entirely, almost possessively, so he'd always know which buttons he had to push on you.

𖧡 — XIAO

"i know baby, i know," you coo out before hitching your hands into the sides on xiao's hips while perfectly slotted in between his thighs, mocking the very sentence he always seemed to mutter whenever it was him who was pleasuring you that night.

while now, it's a certainly contrasting picture when you slurp up his creamy cum that splattered all over your tongue and lips, cheeks and chin, drinking it up before spilling a little on top of his shaft, eagerly smearing the mixture of spit and seed on top of his semi erect cock before palming his balls, practically starving with his pants remaining bunched up around his ankles.

you just love having him deep inside your mouth, rob an orgasm off him before giving him one to salivate on, his length throbbing and thudding over your pink muscle while you're fluttering your lashes up at xiao, so you could watch how he was silently succumbing into nothing but your warmness engulfing his most sensitive part and your throat feeling like a soft wet vice, showing no signs of gagging when you let him slowly thrust into it.

you begin to curl your hand over his balls before applying a gentle pressure that made him jolt up from his chair, his breath quickening as he hardens entirely under your tongue— xiao couldn't figure out if you're going to allow him to cum again or if you're going to rob him, edge him on and delay his delicious, although slightly painful orgasm from how unbelievably reactive and sensitive he had gotten all because of you having a little too much fun tonight.

"don't—," he grunts, his sweaty chest glowing under the dimly rid room as he watches how you're tilting your head, his cock head squished into your cheeks so he'd see the silhouette of it, "i'm so close.. ’so close,"

it's too much sensation at once thrown at him, but xiao braces himself, each hand resting into the arm chair before digging his nails into the leather, because in truth, he doesn't want this to end and hoped he'd ve able to survive your unforgiving pace.

you lift your eyes back up at him and his flustered expression prances above you like the sweetest eye candy, a moan uttering from your lips as it quivers over his shaft until reaching his base— soon after, xiao cums again, much faster and sooner, his cum warm, thick and heavy inside your mouth as he turns in his chair just slightly, shivering all over and looking down at the mess in between his thighs where he met your hungry gaze instantly, your tongue leisurely trailing over his tip like you haven't coaxed out yet another orgasm out of the man— the mere sight of you sinful, your chin plastered all over with his salty whites and your tongue dripping of it.

but it's still not enough, xiao fears, not when he feels you palm his shaft again.

𖧡 — AYATO

despite ayato's long-lasting pursuit of bringing you to the edge enough times that you had honestly lost count, the satisfaction in his voice, brushed together with small praises consisting of, "you're such a good girl to me," and "you always handle me so well," only made you crave it more, crave him more, whilst being tied down by your wrists hovering above your head, a small cloth tightly attaching you to the headboard.

all too soon, you notice that ayato's restless thrusts and fondles with your body turned all the more sloppy in their ministrations— the soft, insistent brush of his slender fingers sliding over your erected nipples drawing an overflow of convulses on your fluttering pussy before he moves his restless cock again, collapsing his entire weight into your frame while you're too sensitive to even voice anything, your heart hammering fast and blenching over your ears as your legs shut around his hips, the weight of his cock nestled hard inside your slickness.

more than the absent sounds of your needs— despite a couple broken hitches and pitchy begs, ayato continued to thrust into your spongy walls, letting transparent desire become visible in his glimmering gaze as he raises your hips up by himself, so he could easily lunge you back and forth, back and forth, with a deep strike of both pleasure and pain clustering your overflowing keenness, his cock head repeatedly touching the ache that coiled around your sweet spots, sharpening the edge of your orgasm

and yet, ayato ponders, the thought of gripping your hips as you took him so perfectly, the desperate sounds you would exhale together with the wet smacks of skin on skin resounding over your ears— the taste of your beauty, made the yashiro commissioner shiver fathomlessly, realizing that he could not deny your orgasm for as much as he wanted, or was able to, without also denying his own before he bites down on his tongue in pain, sweat bedding above his brow bone as he drags his seedy cock along the spots of your walls before making you both experience it. 

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ficmenrhot]

Hiiii idk if u take requests but if you do could you write a smut with Finnick Odair where basically finnick is eating her out and she’s tooooo overstimulated and reader pulls his hair a little to hard, in which Finnock replies with

“Yank my hair like that again I won’t touch you for a month.”

PLEASEEEE

Self-Control

Pairing: Dom Finnick x whiny fem reader

Notes: oral (fem receiving), punishment, hair pulling, slight degradation, overstimulation, fingering, edging

A/N: OKIE DOKIE so actually, in my head, Finnick loves it when you tuck on his hair but for you I’ll change it a bit, also I slightly altered the idea of the request ;)

Minors DNI

—————————————

Your shared bedroom is set alight by the pearlescent moonlight shining in through curtain gaps, a light scent of sea salt and musk whiffing through the air from Finnick. The scent is intoxicating; you’re sprawled out on the ruffled sheets with Finnick buried between your legs, your loud moans echoing through the room.

The two of you had attended a party earlier on, and from the lack of attention you received from Finnick who was too busy socialising with the other victors, you decided to tease him in hope that he would finally satiate the immense desire you felt. You tried to pull many tricks-softly running your fingers down his arms, tugging on his sleeves needily, and batting your eyelashes at him knowing he can’t resist.

“Honey, I know that you’re needy tonight, I’ll give you what you want when we go home, I promise,” he’d say at your attempts to break him, but you’d whine with a slight pout, unable to wait any longer.

Finnick’s last straw was at dinner when you decided to run your hand up and down his thigh underneath the table cloth, circling that sweet spot of his through the fabric of his pants. Finnick is a patient man, and you knew you were in deep trouble when he sent a stern look your way instead of his usual sweet ‘not now’.

This is how you end up with your legs wrapped around Finnick’s head, hands tugging on his golden blonde hair, as he continues with his assault on your clit. His tongue skilfully flicks and draws patterns on your swollen clit as he fucks you with two thick fingers at a torturously fast pace. You feel your climax building up for the fourth time tonight but is denied that sweet release as Finnick purposely pulls his fingers out before plunging them in your heat again.

You mewl as your climax is ripped away from you once more, feeling so overly stimulated. Your face is tearstained, whining as you accidentally pull at Finnick’s hair a little too hard, making him groan whilst his mouth is still attached to your clit, sending vibrations through your body.

“Careful now, sugar,” Finnick warns as his teeth gently grazes your clit as a warning, making you whimper quietly.

“I-It’s too much…I said I’m sorry Finn, I’ll never do it again…please let me come” you beg, sounding so desperate as you attempt to grind on his face, earning some friction.

“Please-”

Finnick lifts his head up from your throbbing heat, scoffing as he tilts his head at you, his fingers continuing to thrust deeply as he stares you in the eye with a mocking look.

“I expected better than you honey, but you acted like a desperate whore. I told you I would give you what you wanted when we came back home but you were just such an impatient little slut, weren’t you?”

Finnick sneers, his pearly white canines flashing as he does so, “you really can’t go an hour without riding my fingers huh?”

His head dives back between your legs, angling his fingers, and he finds that sweet spot once more which makes your back arch in pleasure. He adds his tongue once more, circling and tracing figure eights on your clit which makes your body shudder and mouth agape.

Finnick has been edging you for nearly an hour, denying you releases after releases, and the overstimulation you feel is almost painful. Every single touch drives you insane and the sensitive you feel is certainly not helping.

Finnick suddenly switches to sucking your clit instead, and you have to use every strength in your body to stop yourself from coming right then or else the punishment would be worse. You forget about Finnick’s warning from earlier, and you accidentally yank at his hair, a raspy growl falling from his lips.

“What did I tell you huh, sugar?”

“Mark my words honey, tug at my hair like that again and I won’t let you come for a month, let alone touch you. It’s time to teach you some self control.”

You whimper at his words. If only you had listened.

———————————

A/N: to whoever requested this, I hope it lived up to your expectations. I did kind of change it a bit so I’m sorry if it’s different to what you wanted 😭 once again, reblog and likes are appreciated, a follow would be great :)

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — sometimes nagi’s want for you keeps him up at night.

warnings: f!reader, all characters written 22+, just v sleepy needy vibes! note: i swear this was like my first or second nagi post i ever wrote but i posted on private for some reason (?) so i’m reposting! idk why i’ve just let it rot for a bit ^_^

it's 4am and he's got practice in two hours, nagi realises, but the last thing he wants to do is sleep right now when he's pressing himself into you.

his forearms sink into the pillows to either side of your head as his own rests in the crook of your neck, he can feel the push of your tits against his chest and his abdomen twitches against your own everytime he rolls and grinds into you. sinking his cock even deeper into your plush walls as he feels you jolt underneath him.

"you're—ah! you're gonna be sleepy, sei." you gasp as your nails scratch underneath the neckline of nagi's shirt, and he thinks you sound pretty when your voice is still thick with sleep, eyes resting closed as your features break with the pleasure he digs out of you.

"eh, i guess.. but need you more than sleep right now, pretty thing." he couldn't help myself, not when you feel so warm when you're pressed against him - thigh thrown over his hips as you hug yourself closer.

nagi was normally a heavy sleeper, even more so when he's comfy and he always was when he had you next to him. but that just happened to be his downfall today, when the warm press of your figure roused him with the heavy weight in his cock.

he can feel the weight of his arousal consume the fatigue that he knows will kick his ass at training in a few hours, his eyes still heavy with sleep as he nuzzles into you. but your body feels like silk against his and suddenly for someone so lazy, his stamina feels limitless when you feel this fucking good.

your toes curl with the next particularly deep kiss of his cock, making your voice break with your next exhale of his name before his pace stutters on his next thrust. "ffuck—sound so pretty, can gimme more, angel.” nagi groans, low and breathy as his lips trace along the crook of your shoulder - leaving suckled, wet kisses against the skin with every particularly tight squeeze of your walls around him.

even when you both barely have a grip on clarity, he still feels so fucking good with every heavy, wet grind of his hips into yours — the blunt head grazing just right along the sweet spots where he knows you need him most.

you can barely breathe with how deep it feels like nagi reaches, caging you against the mattress as his pelvis rubs along your swollen clit everytime he sinks into you. you're both so sensitive - both still caught in a dreamy mindset that only draws you closer to your end, faster.

he draws himself back when he feels a sharp little vibration on the bedside table, and the sound brings his drowsy, lidded eye movement to the mocking 4:30AM staring right back at him before his eyes are back on you. there's a pout on your lips as you rub at your face and you whimper, sleepy but content before your eyes flutter closed again when he speaks. "s-sorry, jus’ take it so well, pretty thing. stay up w' me a lil longer — don't wanna stop yet"

nagi shudders when you grab at him, squeezing at the broad muscle of his shoulders before you're hugging him closer — hooking your thighs around his hips to ease him into a slow, rocking pace.

“‘ts fine, feels so good, sei. mmmm, don't want you to stop either.” your words are like honey as they drip through him, making him whimper when he feels your lips tease the shell of his ear and pull another throb from his heavy cock as his pace turns to slow, languid strokes.

"fuck— y're g'nna make me cum. come on, can give you more.. jus' gotta be patient with me. can nap w’ you later, angel.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[zumicho]

blueprints — one : floor plan

two three main masterlist

cw: language, argument, kiss, short-tempered reader, suggestive, no smut, sfw mostly, not proofread

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it doesn’t even look like a word anymore.

that’s what living with keiji is like.

“do you ever draw circles?” you once asked.

you’ve been standing in the hallway for the past twenty minutes.

not that he makes you uncomfortable. not that you’re fighting, either. It’s the serious expression he wears, hunched over the wooden desk, meticulously hot glueing a scaled down replica of the seattle space needle out of popsicle sticks – visibly frustrated – that jails the question you’re waiting to ask, behind your teeth.

“sometimes. circles are harder to turn into buildings.”

he’s drawing them today. maybe it’s a good time.

“feel good enough to talk about the house today?” you hear yourself repeat the exact words that expired about three months ago. he looks over his shoulder.

akaashi’s voice echoes from the past again.

“I’d rather stay here, apartments are less commitment.”

he struck a nerve.

”is this relationship not a commitment to you?”

“don’t misunderstand me—“

“make me understand, keiji.”

“okay, okay. I need you to promise that you’ll let me explain. and finish explaining. please?” patient as expected.

“fine.” you stuck out a pinky. he took it.

“this place has housed so many different people. a house is different.” he puts a hand up reluctantly, sensing your interruption. “building a house means it’s empty. it’s personal.”

“we already live together. and you’re an architect, for fucks sake. let’s build a home, keiji.“ you suck up the tears threatening to fall, because it’ll ruin the ‘tough’ image you’ve built up. you refuse to break over something this stupid.

“not now.”

“then when?”

no response. so you break your promise. sort of. you never promised to agree with what he says—right?

“I’m tired, keiji. tired of trying to understand how you think. tired of figuring out how your brain is wired. I need it to stop being a one-man effort. I asked you to talk to me. explain, not patronize me like I don’t understand what my own words mean.”

you sucked in a breath as you walked to the door— “I don’t think I’ve ever hated something so much as me wanting you.” —and slammed it shut.

it took exactly 91.25 days (three whole months) for you to remember why you did in the first place.

you liked lunar paintings. expressive and colorful. messy and sporadic. akaashi, preferred black and white. careful, calculated, in painstaking detail. he stays calm and collected while you lose your temper. you plan out dates for him. he comes home exhausted.

if a scientific study was conducted on the theory: opposites attract, you two would be the main subjects. it was smooth sailing at the start, worth all the down days and disagreements.

akaashi keiji, who doesn’t say I love you often, but will occasionally mumble it as he fills the cups on the nightstand with ice cold water before leaving for class.

akaashi keiji, who would kiss you deep and slow as you take the elevator up to your apartment. he refuses to wait and fumble with his keys before getting his hands on you. you push him to the edge.

for all these little moments,

fragments of a real, genuine relationship,

he was worth the trouble.

at least to you.

akaashi keiji, who texts I’m sorry after an argument—even mid lecture. he’d never do that for anyone else, he’s serious about his education. he wants to excel in everything he does. every distraction is a risk he’s not willing to take. but,

to keiji:

you were worth the trouble too.

when did that all change?

© froyaoya all rights reserved.

a/n: if u haven’t go check out off the charts it’s my child !! + the links in the chapter titles are music recs <3 expect jazzy songs

I know it’s sort of a cliffhanger / unanswered question but it will be answered do not fret !!! next chapter wink wink

this whole thing was inspired by an excerpt I saved in my notes folder from Hot Hand Fallacy - Jasmine Gibson. do I know what it’s about? no. did I take inspiration from one quote? yes. go play spot it

tags @causenessus @wyrcan @greninjafan5000 @aliensstolemyheart @nursedflowers @whosmiadotcom @cr4yolaas @jeoo-saw @httpsivy @cnnmairoll @yenonnoff @phoenix-eclipses @tobiosluvr @rory-cakes @frvppe @mollyrolls @miyamoratsumuu

[archangeldyke-all]

HIIII. I’m gonna like try one last time to make a request cause I understand you said there’s something up with your inbox and idk if like tumblr keeps eating mine but anyways—

How about sevika with a reader who’s fucking hilarious/super nice and makes her laugh but when it comes to actually being alone with sevika they are horrible at eye contact and are like supppperrr shy and embarrassed.

Especially like during their first time together (✂️✂️), THE GIRL CANT EVEN SPEAK.

I wonder if sevika would be patient- or if she would be the one to say she’s inlove first.

Idk but it’s up to you to answer this so ofc as alwayyyssss I hope you have annnn amazing day!

tumblr always manages to delete the cutest fucking suggestions thank u for sending this in again omg

men and minors dni

you're the life of the fucking party. no matter you go, you manage to make a friend. you've always got people laughing, you've always got a funny story to tell, and you can keep a conversation with a brink fucking wall. sevika thinks you're fucking amazing, the funniest person she's ever met.

she also thinks you hate her.

when you're alone with sevika, you're completely silent.

she thinks you've got something against her, and she's desperate to make it up to you somehow.

which leads to her being extraordinarily nice to you. which only leads to you being more awkward and standoffish around her.

you can't fucking help it. she's the most attractive woman you've ever met, you just can't help how tongue tied and shy you get around her.

it takes you guys a long fucking time to figure it out.

six months-- six months of sevika being incessantly nice to you, and you basically being silent to her-- and sevika finally gets fed up.

"look-- i don't know what i did to you-- but can you please just fucking tell me so i can figure out a way to make it up to you?" she asks one night at the bar. ran just left-- leaving you and sevika to sit in the typical awkward silence that follows the two of you around.

you blink at her. "what are you talking about?" you ask. she groans.

"oh for fuck's sake! you never fucking talk to me! i've seen you hold conversations with toddlers longer than you hold conversations with me! i don't get it! what did i do to you that makes you so fucking quiet around me?" she asks. you blink again, embarrassment creeping up your spine.

"y-you haven't done anything--"

"--oh bullshit--"

"--except be very attractive." you finish. sevika freezes, your sentence catching up to her. you bite your lip. "you're... incredibly hot. it... kinda makes my brain... mush." you finish.

sevika blinks at you in shock for about five seconds, before a cocky smirk ticks up at the corner of her mouth. "is that so?" she asks, sitting back in her seat and eyeing you in an entirely new light. you gulp.

"shut up." you mutter. sevika chuckles.

"oh... this is fucking amazing." she says, grinning at you.

the first time you guys fuck, you keep trying to hide your face behind your hands. sevika fucking loves it, laughing down at you and smacking your hands away as she grinds her cunt against yours.

"show me that pretty fuckin' face, baby." she says. you whimper.

"s-sev." you whisper. she chuckles.

"fuck happened to you, huh? where'd all those words go? y' were talking up a storm earlier to silco-- makin' fun of me all night long-- what happened?" she asks.

you just whine. she laughs evilly, then ducks down to press her lips against yours.

she never stops teasing you about your uncharacteristic shyness around her. ever.

even when you're trying to tell her you love her.

"w-would you stop looking at me like that?" you ask. sevika smirks. she's got you on her lap, her hands on your waist. you had told her you wanted to tell her something important, and she had sat the two of you on the couch like this, as if her thumbs drawing circles on your hips wouldn't distract you at all.

"keep going... 'we've been dating for a few months now'...?" she prompts, starting where you had left of before she started smirking at you like that.

"w-we've been dating for a while and i-i wanted to tell you that..." you trail off again, your eyes locked on where her tongue is licking across the top row of her teeth as she grins.

"that?" she asks. you sigh shakily, and sevika chuckles.

"you're a fucking asshole." you mumble. she bursts into laughter and darts forward to kiss your lips.

"ouch, babe." she says. you roll your eyes at her. "you shoulda told me that before we spent so much time together-- woulda saved you a whole lotta trouble."

"fuck off." you grunt. she pinches you hip and you huff.

"c'mon, tell me." she says. "i'll stop." she promises, miming zipping her lips shut. you roll your eyes at her and look away.

"i love you." you mumble.

sevika's quiet for a moment, and you gulp. then, her finger is under your chin, guiding you to look back at her.

she's grinning, and your anxiety melts away.

"i love you too." she says.

your stomach does a somersault, and you lean forward to bury your face against her shoulder. "oh fuck." you mumble. she chuckles, her hand coming up to rub your back.

"you're so fucking cute it kills me a bit." she says. you huff against her.

"i hate what you do to me." you groan.

"oh yeah? because last night you seemed to like it quite a--"

"shut up sevika!" you cry. she just laughs.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[imaginesbymonika]

“Shame” (Part 4)

A Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader fan fiction / someone else joins the story...

Plot: For the last four years, Y/N and Pedro have been dating in secret. The fear of rejection has turned them into a mystery that could only be encountered in yearning looks on red carpets or hands that are touching one another briefly. However, for the longest time, things have been working out that way just fine. But now Pedro's agency wants him to have a PR relationship with another woman and neither Y/N nor Pedro is sure if their love is going to survive that.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, feelings of cheating, grief and eating disorders

Masterlist

She stares at Pedro from across the crowded room. That's where the two of them are, relationship-wise. She gazes at him like he is a tempting stranger in a bookshop. Melissa's hands are drawing circles on Y/N's boyfriend's back while she whispers something into his ear. A sigh leaves her lips, it feels strange to call him that. Even though it was true, he used to be Y/N's boyfriend… no, he still is her boyfriend, right?

"You're not seriously asking me that!" Y/N had no idea, what facial expressions Pedro was doing because her eyes were concentrating on the floor. On the black and white tiles, where there was a minuscule crack in one of the black ones right beneath her chair. Has it always been there? Like some bizarre fucked up foreshadowing, just waiting patiently to be discovered.

"Are you even listening to me?" All she has ever done was listen to him. She nodded her head. "Y/N. Please.", she hears how he moves closer and after a few seconds, he kneeled down in front of her:" Look at me, darling." She really didn't want to, because she understood very well that the moment she did she could no longer conceal her feelings. "I love you, okay? Nothing has changed."

And when she ultimately raises her head, she noticed it in his eyes. The first time she saw that emotion was when she first met his siblings. Pedro's oldest sister made this desert and he declared that he really loved it. That he would need her recipe and that he couldn't wait to eat it again someday. Late on, he told Y/n that he lied. Simply because he didn't want to hurt his sister's feelings.

Pedro didn't want to hurt Y/N's feelings. And she let him.

Y/N swallows thickly before she turns her whole body back around. "Is everything alright?", a voice asks from behind her and she figures that it has to be one of her co-stars. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine.", the y/h/ced woman responds, without looking at them:" I just thought that I saw someone that I know, but turns out I was wrong."

The man chuckles:" Happens to me all the time. Not only do I have a really bad memory, but my eyesight is super crappy. Which is just a poor blend of important things." Y/N wrinkles her forehead and turns around. Only to be met by two very kind-looking eyes. "Oh my- I am so sorry.", she hides her face behind her hands for a moment, before looking back at him:" I thought, that you were one of my friends. That's so rude of me." Y/N immediately holds out her hand for him to shake:" I'm Y/N." "Yeah, I know.", he states, and when he touches her a shiver runs down her back:" I'm Matthew Gray Gubler. It's nice to meet you."

And that's when she senses it. For the first time in a long, long time. Y/N doesn't have to turn around to know that Pedro's eyes are lingering on her form. Something about this situation makes her feel like a criminal, but truthfully, she couldn't care less.

"So, are you nominated tonight?", Matthew asks, and takes a sip of his wine. His eager gaze is not once leaving hers. She shakes her head:" Oh, no. But the show is." "Barry, right?", a laugh escapes his lips:" I'm sorry. Of course, that's the show. I'm sitting here, pretending I'm not a huge fan of it and- of course, you." Y/N bites in the inside of her cheeks, while she notices how his eyes move down her face. She clears her throat and he echoes it.

"Anyway.", he says and crosses his legs, while the lights in the room dim:" It was nice talking to you, Y/N. Good luck." She nods:" Yeah, it was. Thanks." Matthew only tears his eyes off her once the room goes completely dark, and there is this sensation in the pit of her stomach that feels so unbelievably sinful and good at the same time. God, she's in big trouble.

[luck-and-larceny]

FFXIV Write: Reticent

She flipped a card over. King of Hearts.

“Ah. So there's a man who has been occupying your thoughts lately.”

It was important to deliver her readings more in statements than questions. Confidence was the key to convince people to pay you. That was rule number one in these kinds of games.

The woman on the other side of the cards didn't react. She didn't agree. She didn't disagree. She simply stared at the revealed card.

Ok.

Malika gave the woman space to think about it before adding, “It's important that I mention here that this does not necessarily mean you've been thinking about him romantically. The hearts represent depth of feeling and affection, but not necessarily a desire to be romantic. It could be a father figure, a mentor, or even a co-worker you've been worrying about.”

Again, no rising intonation. 

And, again, no response.

Malika tilted her head slightly to get a better look at the midlander woman’s face as she peered down, unblinkingly and wordlessly at the card. Nothing. Blank.

“Let's turn over the next card then,” she said and bit back the urge to nervously clear her throat. No nervousness here! Only sport!

She turned the card over to the 9 of hearts.

“Ah,” she said, “More hearts. Now why do you think that'd be, hmm?”

The first rule of the game was: Don't ask questions, make statements.

The second rule was: Fuck it, break the rules when you need to. In this case, she hoped asking for a response would make her sound like a patient teacher allowing her student to draw her own conclusion.

“Dunno,” the midlander answered and shrugged. And that was it. Nothing. 

Malika was quickly losing her patience. The way this woman stared at the cards you'd think she was watching paint dry on a wall!

“This card represents satisfaction, contentment and joy,” Malika said… emotions she, herself, was quickly forgetting how to feel. “Paired with our handsome King there it looks like things are going pretty good for you!”

Why even come get scammed by a shady asshole peddling fortunes with a regular ass card deck– not even a cheap divination deck!-- if your life is going so well? Tell me why you're here! You owe it to me! 

“Oh.” The midlander answered. Flatly. No emotion.

Was she alive? Had someone created an automaton to come get their fortune read? Was this a trick? Evander was pretty good at designing machines… She looked around for evidence of him. Nothing. There was a lot of that here today.

“Oh.” Malika repeated it and then turned another card over. Ace of Diamonds. “More good fortune. Literally. You'll receive a letter soon saying you're to receive money you did not expect. Tied to the hearts here, it suggests the letter will either include good news about the man or maybe be sent by him. Is there a man you're hoping to receive good news from?”

More nothing. Absolutely nothing. Time to pack up and call this a bust. She hadn't expected to get anything too significant for reading playing cards, but she'd at least hoped for fun. Or gossip she could use at a later date on another scam. Anything at all! Reading someone else's good luck in the cards and not even getting a conversation from it left a terrible taste in her mouth that only getting sloppy drunk could fix. 

She started to pack up. Silently. It's what the “customer” deserved.

The customer reached out a hand and gently held Malika’s wrist. 

Weird.

“Please turn the next one over!”

Malika raised her eyebrows. Finally, something interesting. Finally feeling like she was back in control, she exerted her power by not packing up but also not turning the next card over. And not speaking either. She could feel the switch of fortune in the air, could sense the tables turn. Exhilarating.

The woman across from her blushed and released her wrist. Then, blessedly, began to speak. “I didn't want to give too much away,” she explained, “because I'd been warned these sorts of set ups could sometimes be scams.”

“Hurtful,” Malika responded. “You wound me.”

“I'm sorry! I just… I thought to protect myself I shouldn't give anything away. I should see what you say and then, you know, see if it was right. Then I couldn't be scammed, you know?”

Malika nodded. “I know. These streets can be dangerous. People can be so unscrupulous. It's a good practice to watch out for that. You did the right thing.” She smiled warmly and tried to keep a predatory grin from overwriting the warmth. “But card reading requires two people working together to create the– we'll call it a narrative. I don't have oracular visions.”

Well, not usually anyway.

“I just have the ability to read vague messages in the cards. You've got to lend your personal experience to them to make the message more specific. It's like we're dancing together when we do this. If you don't move with me, it's clumsy and unsatisfying.”

“Ohhhhh, that makes sense.”

Did it? Good! Malika rather liked the dancing analogy…even if her first thought for comparison was less polite.

“The King of Hearts is my uncle, I think. I adore him! He’s a professional “treasure hunter” and he's opening a new museum in La Noscea that is going to be full of all kinds of ancient items and artifacts and other stuff like that. He sends me letters all the time telling me all the things he's found that he'll put in the museum and other stuff he's just planning to sell and he says he's been making so much money off it all. I asked if I could become a partner, so maybe that's what the letter will be about! Next time we do a reading maybe you'll pull a card for me that shows me as Queen of Diamonds!”

Malika had to keep her head down staring at the cards. She couldn't lift it or her wolfish grin and the bad intentions in her eyes would be far too visible to Red Riding Hood. 

“Maybe!” she agreed.

She turned the final card over. 2 of Spades. Its meaning: Bad luck. A need to be extra cautious. A cheat or bad actor in your life.

Malika lifted her head and her smile was nothing but sweetness. “2 of Spades! It means you've been needlessly cautious. You've been hiding so much away when you need to learn to be more open and honest. You've shut the door on your thoughts and feelings when you really need to throw that door wide open and impulsively do anything your heart desires when you desire it. Transparency is the key to your success!”

“Ohhh, that makes sense!”

“Doesn't it though! Now tell me everything about your uncle and yourself.”

[jamiesfootball]

Augusnippets Day 11

Prompt: breaking the conditioning

cw: past emotional/psychological abuse and manipulation, overworking, control issues, diet control

Summary:

Life after Zava. During a workout with Roy, Jamie struggles to keep count.

Follows after this one

Here on AO3

After thirty-five reps, Roy tells him, “You don’t have to count out loud.”

Jamie stiffens, his arms fully outstretched as he holds up the weight bar. Roy’s palms are out, ready to catch if Jamie drops it, but he doesn’t dare take the bar away from him – not after the last time he doubted Jamie.

“What?” His arms begin to shake, and he adjusts his grip. It’s a heavy load.

“You count your sets out loud,” explains Roy in that low, growly voice that Ted advised him to think of as patient. Coach sure doesn’t look patient. “I don’t need you to count them out for me. I trust you to do the amount I tell you to do.”

Icy uncertainty runs through his veins. It’s not like he hasn’t noticed that he’s the only one who counts out his sets in the weight room during training. The rest of the team, they mostly chat or listen to music, but Jamie had assumed that was ‘cause he was better than they were, more serious where they preferred to slack off under the weak demands of an inexacting coach.

Never occurred to him it might be a rule.

“Sorry,” Jamie says automatically. His face burns. Hopefully the flush of exertion hides it; after all, the weight is really heavy. “I’ll- yeah. In my head from now on, Coach. Please?”

The ‘please’ adds itself on out of habit. Even Jamie doesn’t know what he’s asking for, but Roy must figure it out. After a moment of staring at Jamie with dark, intense eyes, he nods at the bar, a clear gesture to get on with it then.

Jamie gets on with it, this time sure to keep the counting in his head. He reaches forty, nods to Roy, and Roy tacks on the next set of weights. Too easy.

Jamie resumes pressing, all the numbers shut up behind his teeth where they can’t get on anyone’s nerves. He focuses on his form. Good form is paramount, otherwise he risks rendering the exercise useless.

….five….six….seven….eight….eight….eight….

Fuck. No, wait.

Jamie tries to replay the count. The numbers smear together in his head.

He realises belatedly that he’s stopped mid-press. Perched above him, Roy cocks his head like a vulture, waiting to descend at the first sign of weakness.

Jamie keeps going.

He still doesn’t understand why it has to be Roy who trains him – even Zava had trusted Jamie to do whatever the personal trainers told him to do after the first six months. But ever since Jamie’s knee gave up that one time, the man’s insisted on following Jamie to every appointment he has with a trainer or physio. Mental behaviour, the kind Jamie should definitely put a stop to. And he would, if it didn’t take his mind off the yawning abyss growing in his head every time he goes home to his empty flat and remembers that this is it for him now. His own fucking life, with no steel-fisted grip to guide him.

His heart clenches. What fucking number is he on?

He remembers getting to nine. He’ll add five. Add five to nine, and do five extra at the end, and if Roy asks, he’ll lie and tell him that he felt like it. That the training regime at Richmond is shit, and that Jamie expects a real challenge, the kind where you can’t even lift your arms when you’re done. That’s what Jamie deserves. Jamie is better than this.

He picks up at fourteen and keeps going.

At twenty-three, he feels like he’s already done twenty-three so that can’t be right. At twenty-eight, he gets distracted by how similar threes and eights look when he draws them in his head, and at forty-three, he can’t figure out if he skipped thirty-three or just thought about it too hard, so he goes back and does it again.

A memory rises unbidden: those first few months of rehab under Zava’s care, one of the few times he drove the man past any reasonable level of frustration. Too distracted. Unfocused. No more music at the gym, until Jamie learned to be present in the here and now. Until he learned to appreciate the opportunity he’d been chosen for.

Equally unbidden, Roy’s face the week before last when Jamie had used the word ‘unbidden’ in a sentence. How his mouth had curdled at the corner and how his brows drew together. The way he’d sneered, exasperated, “Do you actually talk like that?”

Then Beard, almost equally mocking, when Jamie had flubbed the word ‘philistine’: “You’re gonna want to look that one up.”

Then Ted, frowning and unhappy in a way that Jamie couldn’t grasp, when Jamie refused his book recommendation because he’d already read Fitzgerald before, it’d been on the improving books list Christina made for him a few years prior. Was fine with him if Ted had any other books he wanted to recommend, but his list at home was pretty long, so he’d probably need to let Jamie know if he had a deadline.

He didn’t tell Ted that the list was years old by now. That Zava had grown disillusioned with him once he realised how slow Jamie took to anything off the pitch.

Ted had given him a disappointed smile like he’d heard it all the same. “Maybe what we need is a different approach.”

He still hadn’t given Jamie a different book.

With a start, Jamie realises that he’s forgotten to count at all. Daggers have etched their way into the stone of Roy’s face. All sense briefly flees Jamie’s mind, and he finds himself sacrificing his picture-perfect form for the sake of doing the last twenty reps as fast as he can just so he can be free of that hard look.

By the time he gasps, “Stop,” his eyes sting with frustration. Roy grunts as he lifts the barbell free from Jamie’s sore hands. With an apocalyptic expression on his face, he drops the bar onto the rack with a heavy clang.

Neither of them say anything. Roy, because fuck if Jamie knows why; and Jamie, because he knows without having to be told how shit that was. 

It isn’t his turn to talk.

He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to downplay his nervousness, which feels as transparent as the windowpane to the coaches’ office that separates them from Ted. His tender hands ball into fists, and Jamie resists the impulse to speak out of turn, to bite first and draw blood before Roy takes a swing at him, to shout for help instead of accepting whatever discipline is given to him.

He knows in his nature to argue – Zava always said so – and since day one, emotional regulation has been his biggest weakness. Too willing to snap back, too sensitive when it came to petty slights, too willing to egg on his opponents instead of focusing on the ball, too abrasive, too loud, too needy, too much too much too much. Despite Zava’s best efforts, he could never quite break Jamie of his defects. Maybe that’s why he finally threw in the towel. He could see the front Jamie put up for the sham it was. Could see the ugly acid boiling inside. Could see the Tartt lurking under the surface, the shadow of his father tattooed under his skin.

In the seven years since he’s seen his father, Jamie’s failed to cleanse himself of the flaws he inherited when the only brand he should carry was Zava’s. 

He doesn’t even have that anymore.

Jamie needs to do better. Without Zava, Richmond’s all he’s got left.

With his shirt sweat through, he feels glued to the bench. So he stays there. He doesn’t sit up. He doesn’t push himself into Roy’s face. He doesn’t argue. He keeps his expression blank and he tries to draw up a ‘non-confrontational aura’ and he readies himself for Roy to bring the hammer down.

“Right,” says Roy gruffly. He won’t look Jamie in the eye. “We’re done for today. Go hit the showers.”

Jamie stares at him. The fight disappears out of his chest in a puff of smoke, like someone’s gone and blown out the match.

It takes Roy tapping him on the shoulder for Jamie to sit up. Then Roy tugs at his arm until Jamie’s on his feet. Then he starts towelling off the bench and setting the weights back into place.

That’s Jamie’s job, and the sight of someone, of his coach, of Roy Kent doing his job makes his breathing go ragged. Makes him feel lightheaded and unsteady on his feet. He’s not sure if mentioning it is something that could be construed as arguing – just the thought has him rocking back on his heels, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the tattoo on his arm.

When he feels like he might actually die if he doesn’t say something, he snaps with more force than he means to, “That’s it?”

Roy doesn’t mention his tone. He raises an eyebrow and asks cooly, “What, that isn’t enough?”

Aren’t you gonna tell me where I fucked up? Criticise me for letting my mind wander and losing count? Tell me what I’m supposed to do next, because training might be over but if I want to be better, I need to stay late. Where’s the extra sets? How bad did I do? How late do I need to stay before I can eat dinner?

Quit playing mind games and tell me what to do next.

But that’s not the right response, not with Roy. Until he figures out what his coach is looking for, Jamie bites his tongue and doesn’t say anything.

When Jamie stands for too long with his teeth grit together tight, Roy gives him an assessing look and just. Nods.

“Hit the showers,” he repeats, gentle in a way that makes Jamie want to scream.

After Roy leaves the weight room, Jamie waits another minute to see if it’s a test. After standing there for five minutes, he figures he’s running the risk of disobedience by not listening to that last command, and he hustles to the showers.

Cold showers are best for athletes, and if he’s supposed to do something different, then someone will tell him.

Roy’s never told him otherwise, so the shower stays cold.

The shower is always cold. 

He’s used to it.

[memberment]

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE

So the Trinitarians brain worm is back and Morning Glory is now longer and biting the dust as far as my focus goes.

But like, I genuinely want to talk to anyone who's invested in what's to come as far as part two goes. SO PLEASE. I IMPLORE THE FOUR OF YOU WHO PERPETUALLY TAKE NOTICE OF MY SCREAMS INTO THE VOID.

We're all aware that Trin is a time loop fic. That is confirmed.

BUT THE PROBLEM IS HOW I'M GOING ABOUT DOING THAT. AND I NEED INPUT FROM PEOPLE THAT ARE NOT ME AS FAR AS PLEASES AND SPARKLES GO, YES?

Because like sure I'm writing it and like fuck everything else, let me tell my story. But it's the how of it all like if I'm gonna throw another 200 give or take hours into this I would at least like one person to be having a wonderful time drinking and driving (I have since remembered this is not a common phrase, I do not mean this in a literal sense, it's an expression) with me right?

Part two is going to be 50 chapters, give or take. (Part one is about 37 for reference.)

So the plan for part 2 rn is (ROGUHLY):

(1-10) is the second timeline. There are a lot of importants and I cannot just glaze over it all more than that. But we're also working in a bit of a shorter time period than the original events of the story and introductions do not need to happen again, right?

(11-40)ish would be me running through the next timelines in a set up structure -> what changes -> the results of said changes and then inevitably what sends our looper backwards. It wouldn't be running through all the timelines but the more notable ones in kind of a four chapter structure, I am not fully sold on four, but rough estimate yk.

And then 41-50 would be the finale of part two. It's literally the last timeline in its glory and then the epilogue which kicks off part three.

COULD AT LEAST ONE OF Y'ALL SIT THROUGH THAT OR DO YOU GUYS HAVE ANY NOTES AT ALL BECAUSE LIKE

I personally kinda like it but if not a soul is reading this I am throwing myself on the curb with the rest of the garbage LMFAOOO.

I NEED THOUGHTS. OPINIONS. COMMENTS. CONCERNS. ANYTHING.

Anyways, I'm going to work. I have off tomorrow and I broke the ff investment seal for today so insanity and updates will be here tonight and homework will be tomorrow.

HOPE EVERYONE HAS A GOOD DAY <3

(9:30) I am literally falling asleep as I lazily write this angel based on Danse Macabre. Expect all of maybe one more update tonight if the tacos I am abt to receive don't wake me up LMFAO.

Also, I am almost saddened by not having something to post tm. Anyone want an early chapter of something that isn't Genesis/Desolation bc they're both on Monday?????? (I am feeling like a menace rn)

(10:19) tacos and the absolute yap session I just had did wake me up a bit. MAAAYBE might write some more. Idk I slept like three hours last night and went to work I'm kinda dead. But we're at 98.2k!!!!!!🥳

(11:06) okay we made it to 99.6k everything besides the flashback for 31 is done. I'm about to relax and watch something and figure out mechanics of some of this because god this series is A BEAST. Like, I still have six planned chapters left.

Pure insanity. I love it here. I hate it here.

Holy shit wait I just came to the realization that I started this fic exactly one month ago. I have belted out 99.6k for THIS FIC ALONE. (Moreso if we're including future shit that hasn't happened yet)

IN ONE MONTH.

THAT IS FUCKING CRAZY WHAT HTE FUCK LMFAOOOO

I may or may not be cooking we’ll find out in 6-26 business hours

(5:28) So I just had a very interesting past few business hours. I read a fic I've been waiting ever so patiently to finish. That's cool, right. I go for a walk at 4 in the morning because I'm insane. Fantastic. I get home at five and I'm like ohhhh well what do I do now it's not sleep time yet. Oh write I'm supposed to be drawing.

Nope I reread the epilogue of morning glory and realized Tweek's first address is for my morning glory and Craig's last sign off is your morning glory and now I'm ready to throw myself on the curb with the garbage as I sob. Someone call a trusted adult for me thanks.

[depravity-n-savagery]

I loveee your billy head canon about riding him. So good.

I have a request Drabble

Billy making reader squirt infront of a mirror overstimulation with praise kink

Ask and you shall receive 😌❤️‍🔥 This drabble ended up being longer than I planned 😅 so I hope you like it lolz

"I've got you baby. Do you trust me?"

Most people would laugh if Billy Hargrove asked them the same question. Trust? In someone like him? As his girlfriend, you saw the side of him that had your heart swelling. The side that made you fall for him in the first place. "Yes." You answer, just above a whisper. Using his beautiful ocean eyes as an anchor to keep you grounded.

It was that trust in him that allowed you to go along with this. After one too many times of Billy correcting you whenever you talked about him being 'out of your league'. Feeling self-conscious next to Billy and the attention that came with dating someone like him. Girls and women staring, some even glaring at you with open disapproval. Wanting your place. Feeling like they deserved it more. Some of them were so gorgeous, it made your jaw drop when Billy simply ignored them. Instead, putting an arm around your shoulder or palming your ass with a devilish grin.

"You just need to see yourself the way I see you." Billy said. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, as he seated himself behind you. The large mirror in front of you both felt like a spotlight. Drawing attention to you, and making your skin crawl with the urge to run and hide. Or at least cover yourself. Billy insisted on you both being bare naked for this little 'exercise' of his. Unlike you, he stared into the mirror dead on. Drinking in your image with lust-filled eyes. His cock twitching against your lower back.

You were so busy trying to avoid your reflection, that you didn't notice his hands in motion. One of them reached around to rub softly at your breasts. The other, took a gentle hold of your jaw. "Look." He redirected your line of sight. Forcing you to see yourself. To see the goosebumps that rose, following his hand's motion. Squeezing at your nipple until you whimpered. You could see the effect it had on you both. Vibrating against your back while Billy spoke. "Good girl. Don't you dare look away."

Too stunned to speak, you just nod. Disappointed that the view of his perfectly sculpted figure was being blocked by your own. 'This isn't about me', he said. So you had no choice but to watch. Fully aware of the way your pussy clenched around nothing the closer Billy's hand got. The moist squelching made you squirm. "Billyyy..."

"Be patient." It was so stern. Contrasting the affectionate kiss he pressed behind your ear. "Unless you can repeat something for me. Then maybe I can touch that pretty pussy for you. Is that what you want, babydoll?"

Yes. Needing his touch the way your lungs needed air. Longing to feel him all over you in any way he desired. At the price of a few words? Deal. "Y-yess, please. I'll say whatever you want."

"I knew you would.~" He purred into your ear. Pausing with his fingers just above your clit. So close, but still not close enough. "Keep your eyes on that mirror, and tell me how sexy you are."

"What?"

The pad of his index finger dragged across your sensitive little nub. The slightest touch made you whimper, and wind your hips into his hand. Then he pulled it away. "Tell me how sexy my girl is."

"I-....I'm..." You were so timid. Meeting his eyes in the mirror's reflection. "...I'm sexy."

"Again."

True to his word, the rubbing on your clit resumed. A choir of angels singing the song of your building pleasure. "I'm...sexy.." The last word mixed in with your moans, giving it a sinful bite you didn't expect. It felt foreign coming from your lips. But fuck, did it sound good.

Billy must've thought so too. Moving on from rubbing, to stuffing you full with his two fingers. There was so much slickness between your open thighs, he slipped in with ease. Pumping into you so deeply you were coating his knuckles with your arousal. "That's my girl. You've got a five-star pussy-"

"I've got a five-star pussy..." You echoed his words automatically, no longer needing a command. So caught up in the moment. It felt like a trance. Hypnotized by his eyes, peering over your shoulder with the power to ruin you.

" -and you know how to use it. Don't you baby?" His tongue crept over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. His teeth pinched your lobe and tugged softly. Amplifying the wet sounds of his mouth. "You bring me to my knees every fucking time. Feels like heaven."

It was inevitable. Your undoing, at the tips of his fingers. Fucking you just as roughly as he would with his cock. Only this time, he focused on curling his fingers. Assaulting the spongy place inside of you that brought tears to your eyes. That made your toes curl into the carpet. Building and building, higher and higher until you leaped off the edge.

"Holy shit!"

His voice sounded miles away. On the far end of a tunnel somewhere, muffled by the pounding of your heart. It filled your ears with heavy drumming and wet pattering. Were you drowing? It suddenly felt a lot wetter than usual, and you could hardly get air into your lungs.

The pattering continued as Billy kept pumping away. Using his other hand to swipe furiously across your clit. Cranking and twisting your insides until all the air was forced out of you. The pleasure was too much. "Billy!!" He only released you when the flowing ceased. Leaving behind the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"There you go... I got you." The comforting voice became more clear. Arms wrapping around you, pulling you out of the depths. "I got you, babe."

The world came back into view. In the moment, you didn’t even realize you had closed your eyes. The fuzzy corners of your vision were clearing up, and you could finally see the 'damage'. The carpet area beneath you was darker than the rest. Soaked. Just like your thighs and Billy's entire hand. A hand he brought to his lips and began to lick without a second thought. Savoring the taste like it was his favorite meal.

Fully drained, you let yourself lean back into his chest. "Did I...?"

"Yeah." It came out with a chuckle. He was beaming. Shining above you in rays of pride and astonishment. "You squirted. Shit, I didn't even know you could do that."

"Neither did I." You croaked. Keeping your eyes open was turning into a difficult task. Shit. You tried to find yourself again, fumbling around until you could squeeze your hand between the two of you. "You didn't let me help you finish."

Instead of the throbbing warmth of his hard cock, you felt... more moisture. Too thick to be sweat. "You don't need to." Softly, he pressed his lips to your temple before scooting away from you to stand. "I just watched the hottest girl in Hawkins squirt all over my fingers. What did you expect?"

With a newfound confidence, you gave him a playful grin. "Just Hawkins?"

"Babydoll..." He extended a hand to help you up, settling you on unsturdy legs. "...Hawkins, California, anywhere. If you're there, no other woman stands a chance." Sealed with a kiss, you couldn't help but swoon.

You always felt lucky to have Billy by your side. Maybe now, you could fully believe that he felt just as lucky to have you beside him. ♡

Masterlist , Ao3 ☆

[iznsfw]

Your Chaeyeon smuts are so good. Please post more if you can!

Spectacles

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 5 - Lee Chaeyeon

IZ*ONE's Lee Chaeyeon x Male Reader Smut

2568 words

Categories: girlfriend!Chaeyeon, date night, blowjob, deepthroat, facial, Chaeyeon looks so good in those glasses AAAAA

For @brokennightmares01, one of the best writers out there and my first collaborator <3 All his fics are so good and deserve all the love out there! Love you, man!

It's been a while since the waiter left to deliver your orders for this date night to the kitchen. Probably thirty or thirty-five minutes max. And the only thing keeping you patient is Chaeyeon, who looks extra pretty today, even for you, the guy who gets to wake up and see her beside you in bed everyday. She just looks so gorgeous, so damning pretty that she seems like the kind of girl that you'd take home to your mother and keep a secret due to.... frisky sessions in between visits and a wildness your conservative and reserved parents cannot handle.

Maybe it's because she's just so charming. She draws you in and keeps you hooked, and tests the waters with her free laugh. But, if anything, it's her laugh that made her for keeps. You like how she isn't like other people who tried to modify their chuckles just to seem attractive. Nothing against them, of course. Everyone can do anything and anyone. But it's just so much more satisfying meeting someone like Chaeyeon—or, much better, is Chaeyeon—who doesn't hold back or hide anything. With you, she can be herself, and vice versa. That's the definite reason as to why you like her so much.

As you rant in your head about her beauty, Chaeyeon looks at you with a laugh at the ends of her eyes. She finally lets it out, breaking into a fulk and beautiful smile, raising her brows as she offers you a rhetorical question that you'd answer anyway: "What, are you, like, that in love with me or something?"

You shrug with the same casual arrogance. Two can play this game. "Probably."

Chaeyeon interlocks her fingers and rests her chin on top of their formed flat, smiling at you again. "It's the glasses, isn't it?" she asks, semi-seriously this time.

Not a rhetorical question anymore. There's a knowing certainty in that grin of hers. She has finally figured you out. Nothing you can do about it now. Sigh and raise your hands in the air. "You got me."

"Ha! I knew it! You were looking at me weird the whole time since I put them on. It's like you wanted to fuck me in front of everyone."

She is... well, sort of right. Chaeyeon, besides having a gorgeous face, has a body to die for, so the 24/7 horniness allegation she holds against you is partially true. Her toned torso and legs have you salivating more than any meal in this expensive restaurant. But surprisingly, it's not her body that was the cause of your staring; like she found out, it's mostly the glasses. The round black-rimmed spectacles that sit formally on her nose and taunt you degradingly. Yeah, you like seeing your girlfriend look like a stereotypical book nerd, huh? Fucking pervert.

"Fine, okay. I have a thing for girls in glasses. The nerdy ones, the dorky ones... that sort of girl. Which is why I was a little shocked when I fell in love with you, and you didn't have them at first."

"So, basically, me being visually impaired and having astigmatism make me ten times hotter? And—oh, thank you." Chaeyeon thanks the waiter who has finally returned with your food and gives him your split check, before resuming her playful expression.

You nod, a little sheepishly. You aren't used to talking about your kinks so publicly, although the words you carefully chose and wove together didn't make it seem sexual, the polar opposite of Chaeyeon's choice. But you cannot help what you feel: so worked up just because of your girlfriend merely existing with those stupid frames.

"There's food now, oppa," Chaeyeon says. She gestures simply to the heaping bowls of rice, gravy, fish and chicken on the table. There is even a small cake between the two of you. Their mixed delicious scents make you even hungrier. "Eat it all up."

"Oh, I would. If I'm guaranteed a dessert."

Chaeyeon swipes her finger on the icing and places it in her mouth. Bite your lip to try and keep yourself together, but what she says doesn't help at all:

"Oh, it depends. Do you want dessert to come early?"

Your shoulders shudder slightly. "Kind of," you say.

Chaeyeon considers this and seemingly weighs her options. But in the end, she shrugs in a way that is similar to your earlier shudder and eats her meal. You are a little disappointed, but sex is not what you are here for. You are here to celebrate your third anniversary with Chaeyeon. Nothing will take you away from focusing on having a cuddly and happy evening.

The two of you eat the meal happily. You talk about the funny stories at work while Chaeyeon responds to each with a hilarious laugh. Meanwhile, she relays to you her dance practices and the moves she learns for each. There's Hype Boy by a new rookie girl group, Newjeans, and Fiction. Chaeyeon is a passionate dancer; it is her greatest talent, besides her singing.

In the middle of eating, she suddenly gets up. "I need to use the bathroom. You coming?"

"Sure, no problem. Wait." You stop, making Chaeyeon stop, too. "Is it a separate bathroom here?"

"What do you mean?" Chaeyeon is a little irritated now. Her impatience shows a lot.

"I mean, is it a bathroom for both men and women or—?'"

"It's a bathroom for both. Come on."

You feel a little guilty now for holding off Chaeyeon's bathroom break. But you just want to make sure you aren't accused of being a peeping tom by going in with her anyway at the women's bathroom. Not that you'd be one, anyways. You may have your kinks, but being like... that is not one of them.

You go with Chaeyeon to the bathroom. It is a single room with plenty of stalls. There is even a shower stall on the other aisle, which makes you wonder: Who the hell takes their shower in a restaurant? Definitely not you. You do not even like bathing in fancy hotels. It just feels wrong.

It is probably a stall for the night shift workers who haven't showered yet, you tell yourself.

There is no one else inside the comfort room. Everybody else is too preoccupied with their expensive meal, so Chaeyeon opts for the family stall, which is significantly wider than the rest.

"Want me to wait outside?" you ask meekly.

Chaeyeon shakes her head. "No, you come in [with] me."

She grabs your wrist with a wild tug, effectively dragging you inside the stall with her. The lock slides into its latch and shows the customers who may enter the bathroom a red color, an indication that someone is using it. But not necessarily to relieve themselves like the normal way of using them.

Chaeyeon drops to her knees in front of you. You gasp audibly. "Chaen, what are you doing?"

"Shhh, giving you your dessert! You said you liked me in glasses, right?"

"Yeah," you say, confused.

"How much more would you like it if you can cum all over my face while I wear them?"

Chaeyeon states the words so casually that you almost ignore the explicit context. But seeing her on her knees, looking up at you with puppy eyes behind that damned pair of specs, you kind of wonder what your answer would be to her statement.

She grows impatient. She is as impatient as she is insatiable. "Let me help you find out, oppa, okay?"

She fishes out your cock, gives it a few beginning jerks, and licks its sensitive underside. Let out another gasp that is again caused by her. She smiles cutely, then kisses your girth with an open mouth. Her tongue slides over your stressed veins and tip.

You are already so weak. "C-Chaen," you stutter out vulnerably. That's a fallible action from your side. Now, Chaeyeon knows your answer even if you only say her name. She now knows what exactly to do to fire up your senses and fill it with her only. Her smirk is as wide as day.

But she stops pleasuring your cock by mouth for a moment. Replacing her tongue with her jerking hand, she leans closer and gives your heavy balls a strong lick. She laughs at your shudder, but continues on as if she hasn't noticed it. She sucks lightly on them, coating them with her saliva, and then proceeding to your base again.

From there, she sucks you like a lollipop she can never get enough of. Your tip already leaks with precum; she collects it in between her fingers and plays with it, looking fascinated by it before daintily licking her fingers of them to test their flavor. Seems to be delicious; she moans a little after she tastes it.

That is when she decides to drink the precum directly from the source. Chaeyeon's lips circle your tip, then, her tongue swipes up and down between your slit. In response, your hand involuntarily reaches for her head. Shove it all doen her throat in one go, which she seems to be unprepared for. Must be the reason for the strange tightness in her throat that only happens when she cums while you pound.

Which brings the question: is she touching herself? Look a little down and find your answer. She is! While she sucks lovingly on your head, she inserts her fingers in between her legs, which are taut under the tight pencil skirt. Fuck, she looks so hot, feeding on your tip and getting off from knowing you find her so pretty in this position. Chaeyeon is truly your girl.

"Naughty girl," you say with a mock tsk tsk of disapproval. Your voice sends an exciting chill down Chaeyeon's spine. She loves it when you talk to her in "that" voice, when you call her names during sex. "Were you planning this all along? The glasses and all?"

"Hm. Maybe." Chaeyeon takes half of your girth in one go. Her tongue rotates around the taken length seconds before she lets go again. She looks up at you now with her hands on her lap, looking like the most obedient girl ever. "You never knew how to erase your search history, or use incognito."

Your blood runs cold. "I—I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't you now?" Chaeyeon lewdly bobs her head back and forth to accomodate your cock in swift, wet jerks. Her mouth lets out the warmest breaths, making your sensitive dick twitch in her mouth. "Don't worry, babe, I'm not mad. It's just that... you could have told me about your preferences a long time ago. You know you can tell me anything. You know you can tell me to do anything."

She fires you a flirtatious wink. You feel the sudden tightness that even your cock struggles to venture inside and you know she has deepthroated you. She is particularly skilled at that, with the way she lets your tip rub the back of her mouth and effortlessly takes you down her tight throat. The caress of her lips on your highly sensitive spots also shows that she knows what she is doing, and knows that what she is doing absolutely turns you on.

Moan a little as she deepthroats you again and again. There is minimal gagging from her end, but whenever she slips, her throat seizes your sword even tighter, making it a wonderful experience in any which way. "I'm sorry," you say. "I was too, fuck, shy to say it back then."

Close your eyes tight, but then remember that Chaeyeon is performing your sexual fantasies onto you right now, and choose to look down. Of course, you are not disappointed. She feigns an innocent and scared look in her large doe eyes, and sucks you off with a suction greater than any vacuum. Her mouth truly is a perfect cocksleeve, just as much as her pussy is.

Chaeyeon whimpers and squirms against her own fingers. They dip in and out of her silken core, stimulating her while she stimulates you. Her fingers must be pretty good if her cute, spankable ass backs into her hand just to feel the delicious entering of her digits.

But her mouth is just as good. You talk from experience; the suction of her lips feels amazing, combimed with her innocent doe-eyed look and the way her tongue laps you up like a treat. You are going to cum anytime soon.

"Chaeyeon," you say weakly. Breaths suddenly become hard to take as she increases her pleasuring of your dick. It is as if she wants to cover every bit of it with saliva, and due to that, each inch of your length is wet and sensitive. "I'm gonna cum."

Hearing this triggers her to remove her mouth from you. It's the last thing you want her to do, but at least she is giving you a frisky handjob. Her grip is a little too tight, squeezing a little too strongly, yet you enjoy it. You enjoy being jerked off by her.

"Cum on my face," Chaeyeon orders. "Don't be shy, I want all of it."

"Fffuck!"

Chaeyeon places her face closer to your cock and sticks out her tongue. It's just another deadly factor that adds to your violent orgasm.

Little of your semen lands on her tongue. Most go onto her face and glasses. But the look she gives you before you erupt—a slutty ahegao, a perfectly facial-worthy face—is the one that drives you the most crazy. The glasses are just the cherry on top.

WATCH HERE! Innocent nerd gets a facial in bathroom stall from boyfriend—So Hot! is the best title you can think of for this moment, as you take a mental snapshot and slip it into your heart forever: a messy, slutty Chaeyeon gazing up at you with ruined makeup and glasses, above a puddle of her own cum on the floor.

She swallows the cum she has gotten in her mouth languidly with a gulp. She can barely see now, but she knows you are just worked up as she is. "Happy anniversary, babe!" she tells you sweetly.

"Um, sir?"

There's a person directly outside of your stall. Judging by the formal black pants, you guess it is one of the waiters. Shit!

Try to be as casual as possible as you open the door. The waiter is met with the sight of a ruined Chaeyeon on the floor. "Yeah?"

"Um, I... no sex is allowed in the bathrooms," he says awkwardly. You can tell it is his first day. At the very least, he might be just another regular employee who is shocked at what he is hearing.

"Oh, we weren't having sex!" you lie. "I was trying to help her wipe off the birthday cake from her face. Her friends made a prank and got her like this."

"Oh." The waiter's face turns red. "Oh! I'm so sorry for assuming, forgive me."

"Nah, it's not a problem," chimes in Chaeyeon sweetly. "To be fair, I do kinda look like I got a facial."

The waiter hands you tissues to help Chaeyeon take off the "icing" from her face. After the two of you fix up, you continue eating your meal like nothing happened. It doesn't matter; there is more excitement awaiting you at home.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Eight.

Thank you so much to everyone for your readership, it means the world to me :) And now here we have it at last, Emma's story in full. Grab a drink, maybe a snack, too. It's a long read!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Words - 4,623

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters.

“Fuck,” he whispered, not immediately knowing how the hell to handle it. Try and talk her down and risk her getting further triggered in her catatonic state, thus heightening the likelihood he’d have his head blown off, or risk the same by wrestling the gun from her. “Emma, Emma it’s me, Guero. You’re alright, you had another dream again. He isn’t here, I promise you. He’s nowhere near you, you’re safe. I really, really need you to hear me and lower the gun.” 

He stayed still as a statue, going for option A, figuring any sudden move could prompt the deadly result of her finger squeezing upon the trigger, and his brains splattering across the bedroom wall. Much to his understandable relief, her eyes focused, Emma blinking rapidly, gasping suddenly. 

“Shit!” she whispered, lowering the gun and turning the safety on, placing it on the floor with a soft clunk. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what... I... shit!”  

He breathed a sigh of relief, the tightness his insides had coiled into all relaxing, yet his face remained set. “Come on.” He stood, reaching for her hand, leading her from the bedroom into the lounge. “Sit.”  

Her heart somersaulted with nerves as she took a seat on the couch, drawing her knees up and pulling the t shirt she had on over them, making herself small, reading his emotions. He was not happy. Not in the slightest. He went to go pull on a pair of sweats before joining her, placing a bottle of tequila and two glasses upon the coffee table. Pouring out two large measures, he sunk his quickly, his jaw tightening.  

“I’ve been real patient with you over what it is that causes these episodes, Emma. What just happened kinda changes that, though.” 

Her eyes flitted to him, curling up tighter, beginning to tremble. “You’re mad, and I’m so sorry. Please, please don’t be mad.” 

Picking up the glass he’d poured for her, he thrust it in her direction. “Drink that and calm down.” She did as instructed, uncoiling herself, knocking it back in one gulp, setting the glass upon the table again.  

He refiled it, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m mad at you, but that’s all that’ll happen. I’m not gonna slug you, and I won’t shout. I’m not about to do whatever the fuck it was that Rocco did to you. PTSD, trauma or whatever, you just gotta understand that sometimes people get mad, but that’s all that’ll happen. And I am, because you pointed a fucking loaded gun at me, and you won’t tell me whatever the fuck it is that’s dark within you causing this.  

He paused there, softening his tone. “So yeah, you’re gonna sit here and drink as much of that tequila as you need to until you damned tell me what’s up. I’m trying to help you, Emma, I ain’t trying to get shot. I can’t help you until you help yourself. You say I’m your safe person, so trust me enough to tell me.” 

He panicked for a second that his mildly, yet firmly delivered outburst was too much, watching her carefully. She slid to the edge of the couch, reaching for the tequila and sinking it in one gulp, pouring herself another from the bottle.  

She’d crossed a line, even though she hadn’t meant to and she knew, she knew now it was time to tell him what she’d fled from. He’d be the first person ever outside of her situation to hear what had happened to her. Her bravery in giving herself the push to kiss him now had to extend further, filling all the gaps in her story to him.  

Turning to him, she blinked rapidly, swallowing hard. “It’s going to take me a while to explain it all.”  

His shrug was soft, holding his hands up expressively. “We got all night, blue eyes.”  

With the tequila poured down her throat, another splashed into the glass, Guero’s too after he sank his, she took a deep breath. “When I was ten years old, my family and I went on vacation to New York. I remember how busy it was, how the streets were so full of people. My dad carried me on his shoulders a lot of the time just so I could see above everyone, my mom carrying my little brother. One afternoon, though, Dylan wanted to go up on his shoulders, so I walked with mom instead, and we went down to where you queue up to go over to Liberty Island. 

“It was rammed with tourists, I remember. Dylan had started to fuss, screaming that he needed to go take a pee, so my mom was trying to sort him and dad was at a merchandise stand, so I went with her to go find a restroom. It was in the crush of people that suddenly, a guy grabbed me. I tried to scream for her, but he put a rag over my face with something on it. I remember picking out the pink baseball jacket she was wearing and thinking if I could just fight him off and get away, I didn’t have to run far to get back to her. Then I saw that jacket multiply, my vision going treble, and I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up again.  

“I was at this house, this fucking beautiful, palatial home, all Italian marble and huge renaissance style paintings, high ceilings and columns. It was decadent without being gaudy. This is where the first of one of my many blank spaces in memory comes in, I think there’ve been a few times over the years I blanked things off in order to deal with what happened to me, because I don’t remember clearly what was said to me, or how I responded other than being told that I lived there now. Like, I can’t remember exactly how it was explained, but I remember it was Rocco who did.  

“I remember being upset in the days that followed and crying for my mom and dad. He told me that they wanted me to have a nicer life, and that they’d given me to him for that to happen. “Just look around, kid. Ain’t this a nice place?” That’s one thing I do remember clearly. He kept me down in a basement bedroom, though, locked me in there every night. He was nice to me to begin with. He’d give me little jobs to do and reward me with candy if I did them well.  

“I now know what he was doing. That was the start of him conditioning me, rewarding good behaviour, and in those first few weeks, I was always faultless and tried hard. I thought I had to, to earn the better life my parents apparently wanted for me, even though I missed them terribly and really wanted to go home. I was heartbroken, thinking they didn’t want me any longer. 

“I know what I was now, me being there within his home specifically. I was the blueprint, the test subject, to see how easily it could be done, a child snatched, destined for a life of servitude, or worse. No other kids came into the house, but as time went on, I learned that I was the first of many children taken by the mafia and sold. But anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. 

“It was just me and him for the first few days. His wife had been away with her girlfriends on a trip someplace when I first got there, but when she found out what he’d done, she went wild. I remember that, because despite how intimidating he was, Marie always fought her corner. 

“I remember her screaming at him, something along the lines of me being the kid off the news who went missing, that there was a manhunt going on and her demanding to know why he was behind taking me. I have a vague recollection of him slapping her and shouting, and it being so jarring, because he’d been nice to me and it was such a difference in demeanour.  

“It was shocking, seeing him hit her, this nice lady who he was supposed to love. It really confused me, and I remember wondering if I really was there because my parents wanted me to be, or if what she’d said was right and people were looking for me. I needed answers, I was scared and confused, and on that first night she was home, Marie gave them to me. 

“She snuck down to my room and sat on my bed. She told me that she really wanted to look after me, but that her husband could be not so nice sometimes, and it was easier to do what he said. She was so kind and caring, she made me feel like I had somebody on my side. That night was the first time I saw it, the fear in her eyes, and I knew that one day I’d probably be that frightened of him, too.”  

She paused then, her eyes misting as she remembered back to that night... 

“I can’t get you back to your parents, but maybe I can be your mommy?” She held out her little finger, Emma linking hers through it, the coolness of her diamonds pressing against her little hand, Marie’s eyes full of earnest warmth. “Pinky swear, Emsy. We can’t tell nobody though; Rocco can’t know, or I’ll be in just as much trouble as you.”  

“Emsy. She always called me that, and it sounded so lovely in her broad, New Jersey accent. Her voice was shrill and loud sometimes, but she was so kind and soft. I don’t know why she ended up with him. She went to Wellesley; she had a decent education and could have been anything. She worked in fashion before she got married, was a buyer for Bloomingdales and then later Donna Karan. She travelled all over the world, a real highflyer.  

“Anybody could tell she was well-educated; she always spoke so properly. She was smart, she was a real catch. Marrying him to be a housewife, though? I always wondered why she’d do that, make herself small when she was so much better than him. It wasn’t until I was older that I began to see how much he’d worked the same kind of manipulation upon her, too. She was terrified of him.  

“But anyway, because of that for most of the time she’d just tell me to do as I was told, and in front of him she’d be indifferent towards me. She’d tell me to be a good girl and do my chores, act like a robot. That’s how he liked us to be, totally compliant. Then late at night, when he was out doing whatever illicit business he had, she’d sneak to come and see me and be soft and warm again.  

“She’d bring me up to her bedroom and we’d watch television together if she knew he wasn’t coming home. We’d eat chips in our matching pyjamas, and she’d cuddle me tight and blow raspberries on my tummy to make me laugh, telling me she loved me all the world and always would.  

“It was about six months after I arrived that he tried to take me from the house, and Marie put her foot down hard,” she continued, remembering it, the screaming match, Marie shielding her. It replayed vividly in her mind’s eye as she recalled it... 

“You won’t take her, you won’t!” she screamed, pushing Emma behind her. “If you won’t let her go back to her parents then I am not letting you sell her, Rocco! No. She stays here with us, with me! This is a child, these are children you’re snatching from their families, and for what? What? We have enough money! You don’t need to traffic kids, mother of god, it’s beyond a sin! God strike you in shame for what you’re doing!”  

“Of course, he beat her for it. Badly,” she continued to explain, remembering how Marie had slumped to the floor, her face bleeding, her own screams filling the vast welcome hall in horror as he’d laid kicks to her body. “He left soon after, and I remember fetching a washcloth and trying to help her, she was bleeding so heavily. She was more worried about me. We both sat on the marble floor crying, with her saying she’d pack our things and we’d escape while he was out.  

“She tried, but since I didn’t have a passport, we had to try and get across the country via greyhound, and his guys found us at the station and dragged us back. He said if she ever tried again, he’d kill us both. It was no idle threat, either. He’s made people disappear for less.”  

“He got her pregnant with their first child just after that, making it impossible for her to escape him. He had her watched everywhere she went. Marie was just as much of a prisoner within that house as I was. After she gave birth to Joey, she couldn’t focus on looking after me quite as much. It wasn’t like she ignored me, but it became tough for her. I took on the extra load of work around the house to help her since she had her hands full with the baby, but if I ever slipped, god, he’d make me regret it.  

“When I was little, it was just spankings, but the bigger I got, the worse my punishments became. I’d get full on, bloodied beatings. He fractured my cheekbone when I was thirteen. I didn’t go to hospital, instead I saw a mafia doctor. He had no choice when my face swelled up to the size of a grapefruit. 

“He continued to become worse, too, with what he expected of me. After Marie gave birth to their second child, she came down with post-natal depression really badly, and she wouldn’t let him anywhere near her sexually. That’s when he turned his eye to me. I was fourteen.”  

If he hadn’t felt his anger bubbling steadily enough as it was throughout her explanation, that revelation in particular made a flame of rage flare within Guero. He stayed where he was, but his hand moved firstly to pick up the tequila and sink it, reaching tentatively into her space, Emma grasping his fingers tightly as she began to sniff. “He said if I was good for him in bed, then he’d reward me, so I was, and he did. He bought me this Chanel rosary style necklace, one that Marie had and I always admired. Like gifts made my lack of real consent all okay. I felt sick when I wore it. 

“I hated it, what he inflicted upon me. Every single time I had him on top of me, I’d run to throw up after and scrub myself down in the shower. He made me feel so unclean. I felt like I was betraying Marie, too, having sex with her husband. Of course, after so long without my family by that point, she truly was mom to me. It messed my head up, the implications of that. If she was mom, then by default wasn’t he dad? And yeah. ‘Dad’ was routinely raping me. 

“It broke her heart when I told her what he’d been doing. I waited until about eight months after it had begun, when she was better, because I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it with how depressed she was after Alessia was born. I remember sitting on her bed with her, and she hugged me so hard, told me over and over how sorry she was. I hated it, hated how upset it made her, and I hated that in the end, I didn’t protest it, him coming down to my room to have sex with me a couple of times a week. If I didn’t fight it, he was nicer to me.  

“He started to become more lenient about my freedom when I got to seventeen. All those years I’d been hidden away from anyone other than the family - and by that I mean the crime family - I’d never left the house, I guess because of him knowing I might be recognised. Once I was older, I not only looked different, but he could explain my presence in the home.  

“He told people I was the live-in nanny and nobody ever questioned it. He also told people that I was going to college out there too, despite me never actually finishing my education formally. Everything I know and learned came from Marie, she gave me little classes when he was out, so that I wouldn’t fall behind on learning everything a child needs to know, spelling, English, math, health, all of that.  

“She might have been a trophy wife who loved shopping and luxury on the surface, but like I said, she was smart. She encouraged me to read and read, every book I could, keep on learning. They had a huge library I used to like to go sit in, and I was allowed more time there the older I grew. Oh, god, if I ever spoke with anything even resembling a Jersey twang to my accent, too, she’d correct me. She always said it was important I keep the way I spoke, the only identity he couldn’t take away from me. “You must retain your individuality, Emsy.” That’s what she always said to me. 

“But yeah, the older I got, the more freedom I was allowed. It still wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. I could leave the house, I’d go with Marie to pick up the kids from school or take Alessia to dance class and Joey to little league, especially when Marie got pregnant with Mikey, their third child.  

“It crossed my mind so much, to just take a car and make a run for it, fill up with as much gas as I could afford and drive out of there, but he’d find me. I mean, I can’t even drive but still, I’d have tried. Automatics don’t look tough to learn. It would have been my only option since I don’t have a passport. On paper, I don’t exist as an adult under my real identity, being a missing person.  

“He always warned me against doing anything stupid, though. “I got eyes everywhere, kid. You’d be gone an hour before I dragged you back and made you sorry, I promise you. Remember when you and Marie tried before? It’d be worse for you than it was then, if I don’t decide to make you disappear for it. Don’t even think about going to the cops either, police are on my payroll.” He was right, of course. It’s how he gets away with it. He spends millions in bribe money to keep everything he wants within his grasp. 

“I might’ve had a modicum of freedom, but it was always at the end of a very long, invisible leash. With that little bit of freedom though came the requirements to earn it. He began coming down on me heavily if things weren’t exactly to his liking, and his punishments got worse. He’d beaten me, kicked me, punched me, throttled me and even pushed me down the stairs a few times in the past. One of the worst was when I actually had the courage to stand up to him, when he started yelling at me about the floor not being spotless.  

“I told him it would be if he simply removed his shoes, because he’d tracked the dirt in and that I’d clean it as soon as I’d finished cooking. I was sitting waiting for the pasta to cook, and he kicked me in the sternum out of my chair, straddled my chest and pushed a gun into my mouth. “You ever smart mouth me again, and I’ll blow your fucking head off!” I remember him snarling at me. I didn’t think it could get much worse, but then he began burning me with knives.  

“He’d heat them up while holding me down by my neck in the kitchen, then make me pull up my top and press the metal against my sides and lower back. I look hideous under my clothes because of them all. It hurt, it hurt so fucking badly, and I’d beg and plead with him not to do it, just to hit me instead. He enjoyed it, though. He gets off on it, other people’s pain and fear.  

“So, July just gone I turned twenty-nine, and Marie and I had secret cake like we always did. I could barely believe I’d been there that long, nineteen years. Nineteen years of clandestine birthdays, little gifts sneaked to me at Christmas, anything she could do to make it better for me. She always used to say that she felt tremendous guilt that she couldn’t stop him doing what he was doing to other kids, but at least she could make my life a bit more comfortable. Until something happened that she couldn't. 

“Two months after that, he got me pregnant. I wanted to keep it, figuring it would be my only chance to be a mother since he was never going to let me go. He marched me to a clinic, though, and made me have a termination.” Her long explanation halted, sinking a tequila, chewing her thumb as her grip tightened on Guero’s hand. “It was horrible. They couldn’t give me a medical abortion as it was about two weeks too far along, so I had to go through the hell of the alternative.  

“I’ve never felt more alone than I did lying on that fucking examination bed, having my baby ripped from me. I hated him more than ever for putting me through that, and that’s when I knew I had to find a way to escape him. I had to be smart about it, find a way to vanish without a trace, and the perfect chance presented itself a few months after that. Down in the basement of the house, he keeps a huge, hidden vault below the floor. It’s where he’d have your money taken from, save leaving it at any of his businesses, since he’s under federal scrutiny.  

“I’m the one who used to count it all up and get it put into the crate, ready for his guys to collect and then drive to the port in New York and load it onto the container. I knew that was my chance, so one day when they’d come to collect, I told them that I’d hurt my back and couldn’t carry the crate up as usual, made them go down into the basement to get it.  

The night before, I’d hidden my backpack out in the bushes that bordered the drive, and also adjusted the CCTV cameras so they were all just out of shot of where the van would park. I planned well, because it was my only chance, and I couldn’t fuck it up. Mother Mary, how I couldn’t fuck it up. Rocco was out, of course, and Marie had gone to the market, so it was just me in the house. As soon as they’d gone in, I scooted around to the van out of the path of what I knew the camera reach was since I’d moved them, grabbed my rucksack and hid away in the back.” 

“I felt so much guilt for leaving Marie without an explanation, but she couldn’t have come with me, us and the three kids in there, we’d have never survived. I’m surprised I had enough oxygen to last the journey, to be honest. Plus, it would have been harder not to be noticed, five people fleeing opposed to just one. 

“When the van got to the port, I snuck out and hid before they could see me, and watched which container they carried the crate to before running down there and getting inside. I knew I’d end up in California, but I didn’t really have a plan beyond that, probably because part of me didn’t think I’d ever be able to pull it off.  

“For the entire journey, I had nineteen years of trauma playing out in my head, lying in there in the pitch black. It really fucked with my head, not to see daylight for so long, and just have it all replaying, everything I’d been through. It’s why I was so bent out of shape, it all just collided in me, and I finally processed everything that had happened, felt it all, everything I’d stuffed down in order to survive his abuse. After twenty-three days at sea, the ship ported, the container got looted, and then there you were. My safe person, at last.” 

She hadn’t looked at him once in her entire explanation, Emma picking up the tequila and taking a big gulp, wincing slightly. When she turned to him, she saw his face wet with tear trails, Guero moving to seat himself close to her, his hand cupping her face as he rested his forehead to hers.  

Any anger he felt at her holding a gun to his head had faded long ago, the unpleasant twisting within his guts at what he’d heard forcing it out like an exorcised spirit. It wasn’t about him. It never would be. God, she was so strong, so brave to have survived this. It was little wonder she’d fallen apart while within the container, nineteen years of the trauma stemming from captivity finally washing over her, like the waves beneath the vessel that had spirited her away to freedom.  

“I don’t fucking know what the fuck to say.” He truly didn’t either. Everything he’d just heard had shocked him right to his bones. What in the hell could he say, after hearing of her being a kidnap victim, only saved from being trafficked by Marie Lombardi, a prisoner within the tight hold of an iron fist for most of her life? “I’m so, so fucking sorry that happened to you. I don’t know what else to say, other than I wanna go empty my gun in his fucking skull.” 

He’d taken her life from her, all those years she should have been focusing on school, college, making friends, having boyfriends, everything normal for a child, and then a young woman to enjoy. Worst of all, he’d taken her baby from her, before it was even a baby at all. No wonder she was the way she was. 

To say his heart broke for her would have been an understatement.  

“You don’t have to say anything else,” she whispered, nuzzling his cheek softly as he pulled her onto her lap, his strong arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. “Just sitting and listening to it all was enough.” She sighed, tucking her head beneath his chin as he lay back on the couch, taking her with him. “I’m so glad you found me.” 

He stroked her hair, kissing her forehead. “I’m so glad I found you, too.” Sharing silence, it suddenly hit him, why she’d reacted with such horror at the very thought of placing a bird into a cage. 

Caged was exactly how she’d lived for the past two decades. 

He took a breath, his brow creasing as he let the fury he’d felt bubbling within him boil up, his slow exhale gravelled on a soft growl. “King of the mafia or not, I’d shoot him in the fucking face before he ever came near you again.” 

She believed he would, too.