Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(
I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.
Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.
But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?
Wrong.
Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.
So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.
While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.
Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.
It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.
Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.
It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.
His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.
Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.
In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.
The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.
In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.
You'll have to remember for next time.
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Okay, now I need something about bf!logan and his girl making a porno (bonus points if wade finds out after the show they put on for him and that man is willing to RISK IT ALL to see that sex tape😩🤣)
cw: porn link; f!reader; smut; consensual filming during sex; slight sexting at the end // divider by @/plutism!
this is definitely the porno they were making <3
logan has you on your knees, your ass dimpling with every one of his greedy caresses, his heavy hand kneading your flesh. you’re whining to be creampied—to be bred—and logan indulges you with a quiet chuckle because you’re so adorable like this, all needy and demanding, babbling nothing but nonsense because he’s fucked you to the point of incoherence.
you jut out your chin at his croon. he tells you to do it yourself if you really want his cum; says that you’ve got to show him how much you need it.
“an’ here i thought i was bein’ a gentleman,” logan says, sighing in that what-can-you-do? tone like he hadn’t been fucking you so hard, you were sure that the condom was on the brink of ripping.
you grumble, rolling your eyes even mid-tears, before reaching back to where he’s got his cock rutting along the cleft of your ass. you give it a stroke, giggling breathily to yourself at its sheer girth and weight, before sliding your hand down to the pinched tip and tugging.
logan moans, and it rumbles deep, sending tingles to rise from the tips of your toes to the base of your neck. he sounds just a little too excited, and you wonder how you must look as you reach for the rubber, tugging it off the expanse of his cock. do you look desperate, the camera capturing the way you’re shivering like you’re on cum-withdrawals? or do you look like the brat that you are, whining how sex is not enough until logan’s pumping you full of his sperm?
god, the thought that this moment is being immortalized makes you clench at nothing, your hole puckering as it waits to be filled.
the condom comes off with a pop, the rubber snapping off and into itself. it sounds so lewd and dirty, like the two of you are really starring in a corny porno, and it fills your cheeks with warmth as your need wanes in the face of your shyness.
you fling the condom to the side, before burrowing your face on the pillows, as though that alone can hide the palpable hunger rippling from you. logan laughs at your reaction like he’s not softly humping his cock between your thighs, rutting it along the wet mess he’s made out of your cunt.
“y’ready, bub?” logan asks, still giddy with his laugh. you grumble a reply, before jutting your head in a stilted nod.
he taps his weeping cock along your folds, testing, and you shuffle in your impatience. you feel the itch exploding, the need to be stuffed bloating, but logan continues to tease and god, pleasepleaseplease—
“i’ve got you, darl,” he grunts, then he’s pushing in, steady and filling, and, and—
the moan that’s ripped from your throat sounds foreign, like you’re a damn wounded animal. you don’t even get to adjust to his width—pussy lips going taut at his thickness—before logan’s drawing his cock out until all that’s left is the head. there’s a bated breath that you two share, leaving you suspended in anticipation, then he’s bullying it back in.
you flop on the bed, all useless now like you’ve got your strings cut loose. logan doesn’t seem to mind, not with the consistent ringing slaps of his pelvis meeting your ass echoing in your quaint room. god, your brain’s being scrambled right now, you’re sure, because you can’t even think of anything but logan—
loganloganlogan.
you’re already cross-eyed by the time he sprays his first load inside you.
.
wade gets a five second clip from logan’s number. the thumbnail is just a blur of colours and wade’s interest is piqued because logan rarely reaches out to him—a video is just unthinkable.
he was expecting many things—that the video is the one of deadpool being broadcasted on national television with the words “hero or criminal?” after he’s accidentally set the robber’s van on fire, or that the video is an accidental recording of logan’s butt because that wolverine suit was tight and wade can’t even think where logan must keep his phone with him.
but this—
wade wasn’t expecting this.
it was a video of you—wade’s not even embarrassed to admit that he’s memorized the way you look from all angles; what? one doesn’t get a show of wolverine fucking his girl without gaining a new hyperfixation—reaching for logan’s monster cock. wade breathes in sharply as he watches you reach for the condom before tugging it off with a filthy, filthy pop. the video cuts into a next scene of logan relentlessly fucking you hard; the audio is a mess of squeaks and slaps, but also the wet squelches of logan’s cock fucking in-and-out of your gaping cunt.
two things:
1. that’s fucking hot.
2. that video has clearly been tampered with; it was edited to show the barest of the highlights.
this was a conscious decision, with deliberate efforts. this was personal.
an invitation.
wade rubs one… okay, fine.
wade rubs three out before he’s running back to that apartment he’s daydreamed about. mid-parkour, another notifcation comes in. wade falls, because of course he does, but while he waits for his ankle to mend itself back into its socket, his eyes devour the new message.
> darl wants to know if you’re in.
wade sends a dick pic as a reply.
wade busting a fat nut behind tim hortons because he’s patriotic like that
(ext)
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Flames on Thin Ice
Pairing: jealous!Theo Nott x fem!Ravenclaw!reader
Word count: 2.9k
TW: cursing, jealousy, ridiculous amounts of yearning and fluff
Based on this request! Thank you :)
Summary: You and Theo Nott are something much more than friends, but just less than lovers. He would very much like to change that, as he’s no longer able to control his rapidly intensifying feelings for you. But when Slughorn’s exclusive Christmas party approaches and Draco Malfoy asks you to be his date, the limits of Theo’s jealousy are tested like never before.
“Come here, bella,” Theo smiles and gestures towards you as he strides over to where you stand, surrounded by holiday decor. He approaches you from the side, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you gently. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you hook an arm around his shoulders, placing the star on top of the Slytherin common room holiday tree.
Decorating the common room tree is one of your favorite parts of winter at Hogwarts. This year, the Slytherins asked for your help after hearing how amazing you did with the Ravenclaw tree for your own house.
Theo can’t say the same, but he’d do just about anything at this point to spend time with you. His crush on you has blossomed the last couple of months, your pull on him amplifying each day. Any opportunity he sees to touch you, help you, or make you laugh, he takes. No question.
“Grazie, cara mio.” You respond, looking down into his heavy, perfect blue eyes. You always try to speak to him in Italian whenever you can, picking up on his more common phrases. You’re the only one that goes to that kind of effort for him and he notices it. God, does it notice it.
He spins you around, earning a series of giggles from you before he lets you back down on your feet. Your hand lingers on his for a few seconds, which feels like an eternity to him. If only he could kiss you right here, right now. But the graze of your fingertips on his palm is enough for him, for now. He’ll take what he can get.
You step back, turning towards the fully decorated tree, ready to show off your hard work. He wants to watch with you but he can’t bear to when you’re looking this beautiful, this stunning. His eyes obsess over your every perfect feature, his eyes drinking in your essence.
This might be my favorite outfit of hers. The plaid skirt, the knee-high socks, the cream colored sweater. No- the one from my birthday, when she wore my necklace…
Oblivious to his longing stare, you take out your wand, tucked into the waistline of your skirt.
“Lumos,” you say, a look of wonder and awe blossoming on your face as the tree lights up. The warm glow makes you gasp, the sudden joy jolting through you.
Your hands quickly grab his bicep, pulling yourself towards him. A squeal of happiness escapes you, prompting a laugh from Theo. His smile, your favorite smile, triggers your heart to flutter. The way you’re looking at him sends his mind spiraling.
Gods, she is perfect.
It takes him a second to recover from the profound effect your touch has on him. His skin burns like fire, his heart aching for you.
I’ll win her. I’ll win her so she can spin around in my arms again next year.
Your soft voice brings him out of his thoughts. “What do you think? Is it good enough?” you ask, your eyes contemplating your creation.
He reluctantly removes his arm from your hands, wrapping it around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, your head resting gently on his shoulder. In a moment of risk, he drops it to your waist, his fingers fiddling with your sweater. Your face quickly turns to his in surprise.
His pulse stops, his breath with it as your hand slowly makes its way to his chest, resting above his heart. Your head tilts up to meet his dark stare, your eyes locking in on each other.
“It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. It is glaringly apparent he isn’t talking about the tree anymore.
You swore his head leaned down, his lips parted slightly, his hand pressed your whole chest against his, before-
“Y/L/N! Where is that pretty little Ravenclaw?” You hear a familiar, yet obnoxious, distant voice crawling its way into the common room from the dungeon corridor. A disgruntled Theo shuts his eyes in defeat.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding.
He notices the look of disappointment etched in your features, it’s enough to send a pang of longing and frustration slamming into him. His heart drops as your body detaches from his, putting a space between you. His side feels colder without your warmth against it.
I had her.
Draco rounds the corner, a skip in his step as he confidently strides over to you. His eyes light up with glee as Theo’s darken, seeing red. Draco takes your hands in his, kissing each one before speaking.
“My lovely little Y/L/N, just the girl I was looking for. I’ve got something to ask you,” he starts, your eyes widen as he gets down on one knee, keeping your hands clasped with his. A quick glance at Theo shows you the tension in his jaw, the dagger-like stare he casts on Draco.
Why’s she looking at him like that? That look was for me not even a minute ago.
“I have been personally invited to Slughorn’s holiday party and I couldn’t think of a more perfect date to bring. Will you be my plus one?”
The look of hesitancy on your face prompts him to continue. “Consider it the best Christmas present you could give me.”
Normally, Draco wouldn’t even entertain the idea of taking anyone outside his own house. But the Slytherin crew has a soft spot for you, so much so that the common room door doesn’t argue when you say their password anymore.
You giggle, taking a step closer to Draco. “Well, I do love a Christmas party.”
His bright, smug smile draws you in as he stands up and pulls you in for a hug, resting his head on top of yours. “I know you do.” He smirks.
He shares the time and dress code details with you before heading off to meet up with Blaise for dinner. You look around, only to find you’re alone in the common room. Theo left, admittedly, before he blew a fuse.
—
The next couple of weeks are interesting to say the least. Theo has been pining for your attention, trying to distract you from the other boys as much as he can. But mostly, he’s been keeping an eye on Malfoy.
In one instance, Draco came to Theo’s dorm, where he knew you were hanging out, to ask what you were going to wear to the party. “Hmm, we should match, I think.” He suggested.
Nope. Not today, mate. And certainly not in my fucking bedroom.
Theo suddenly picked you up off his bed bridal style, physically removing you from Draco’s presence before either of you could agree on an accent color.
“Theo!” You yelp, wrapping your arms around his neck and peeking back at Draco. “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere that prat isn’t.” He responds with haste.
In another instance, Draco sat across from you in the Great Hall during breakfast and gifted you a pair of earrings for the event. “They sparkle almost as much as you, love.”
The gesture brought a heat to your cheeks that had Theo making fists under the table. He can’t stand to see you flustered over Draco’s pathetic attempts to buy your affection.
Thin ice, Malfoy. Thin. Fucking. Ice.
Draco continues. “My mother picked them out special. She was beside herself when I told her I was taking you.”
At this, Theo happened to “accidently” spill his tea directly into Draco’s lap, earning him a public scolding. But the words go through one ear and out the other. He remains unscathed, because Draco left, and you’re all his again. And really, that’s all he cares about.
—
The day of the party arrives, one Theo has been absolutely dreading. No amount of self-soothing could keep his mind from imagining the shit Malfoy would pull without him there to interfere.
In your dorm, Theo watches as you fix your hair and apply your makeup. He observes your every move, trying to etch each one into his memory, noting all the things you do that drive him crazy.
The way she bites her lip while putting on mascara.
How she hums Christmas carols while pinning up her hair.
When she asks me what shade of eyeshadow she should wear.
When you finish dolling yourself up, you change into your dress in the bathroom. A pout of frustration escapes you as you realize your hands can’t reach the zipper. You decide to ask for Theo’s assistance.
When you walk back into your dorm, you’re met with a completely awe-struck Theo, his tired eyes grow wider than you thought they could even go. The boy is seemingly paralyzed by you.
Holy bloody hell.
His trance-like gaze runs over the lace neckline, down the curves of your bodice, and over the shimmering gown. He’s never seen you dressed up before, and you have him wondering why it took so long to.
“Spin.” He demands, begs. “Please.”
You slowly turn for him, a small smile adorning your face. The gown flows like water, splaying out as it twirls around you. You have to admit, both the dress and his reaction are feeding your confidence.
Nothing matters in the whole world except for her.
He stands, having noticed the undone zipper in the back. He saunters towards you, jumping at the opportunity, his eyes unwavering from your body. He places his hands on your hips, turning your back towards him.
Can I just marry her now? Can she wear this to our wedding?
You feel his soft breath grace your neck, a whisper of affection envelopes you. “Mia bella ragazza,” he says, each word dripping with pure adoration. He zips you up with the utmost delicacy and care.
He wraps his left arm around you, pulling your back to his chest. He sways you both back and forth, imitating a slow dance.
“Y/N.” Theo says, ready to pour his heart out for you. Right here, right now. As your eyes meet his, you share a moment of yearning, his lips dead set on meeting yours…
Until an abrasive knock that could only belong to Draco breaks your stare from his.
Please don’t take her away from me now.
He, of course, opens the door without being granted entry. You slide away from Theo’s embrace, slipping on your heels and grabbing your cover-up. Draco beckons you to him, grabbing a hand and twirling you around.
The sound of your laughter plagues Theo. You link an arm with Draco, tucking into his side. Theo’s mind silently explodes with jealousy, trying to identify everything wrong with the sight in front of him.
He looks like dirt compared to her.
Draco reaches to fix one of the earrings he gave you, setting it just right. Heat begins to course through Theo’s very being.
I’d rather eat slugs than see my Y/N on his arm.
Draco leads them out, nodding a silent goodbye to Theo on the way towards the door. “I think we look rather dashing together, don’t you agree?” he asks, his ego caking each word.
Theo takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure as he’s left in silence. He vowed to himself that he would behave for you, for this one night. For your sake.
But just before you leave his line of sight, you steal one last, desperate glance at Theo. And that’s enough to break his vow.
—
I can’t believe she makes me this stupid.
Theo thinks as he peers into Slughorn’s party from a tiny window. His feet perched on the ledge, several feet above the ground. His knuckles go white as his fingers grip the wall tightly.
He spots you next to Draco at the table, noticing his hand covering yours. The students engage in lively conversation, mostly Malfoy telling boring stories about his father.
Though Theo tries hard to keep his focus on Malfoy, he can’t help but obsess over your breathtaking beauty.
His ears recognize the first few notes of the song you were humming earlier coming over the speakers.
You gasp and whip your head towards Draco, your eyes lit up with excitement, your hands tugging his suit jacket. “This is my favorite song!! Can we dance?” You ask him.
He stands and offers you his hand, which you take immediately. “All night, if you’d like, love.”
He doesn’t deserve this. He can barely carry a tune, let alone dance.
Theo hops down from the window, using the moving picture frames as leverage. Once he lands, he finds the back entrance to the party, peering through the sheer curtains.
Good luck pulling this off, Malfoy. I hope she laughs in your face.
But that’s not what happens. In fact, it is hard to deny how absolutely gorgeous you two look together, each step perfectly placed, each twirl calculated. Everyone watches you both sweep across the dance floor with ease, like you’ve rehearsed this a thousand times.
And even worse, it looks like you’re enjoying it. Theo’s hand drags down his face in agony.
Fuck… he’s killing it.
Theo’s inner fire intensifies as Draco’s hand moves to rest on your lower back. Too low for his liking. And the way you’re eating it up drives him mad. Draco leans in near your ear, sharing smirks and whispers with you.
The bloody fool is talking during her favorite song instead of letting her sing.
An idea sparks in Theo’s head, one that would probably disappoint you. But he doesn’t care anymore. Especially as he watches Draco cross the final line by dipping you backwards, his eyes obviously lingering on your chest. When he lifts you back up to him, you hear a faint, boyish voice call from behind you.
“Confundus.”
Suddenly, Draco stumbles over, tripping over his own feet and falling on the floor, bringing you down with him. Slughorn swiftly strides over and accuses Draco of drinking too much champagne, despite your efforts to defend him. When he’s asked to leave, you follow him.
“Are you okay?” You ask, patting down the front of his suit jacket and fixing his hair. He rolls his eyes, shrugging you off and mumbling something to himself about how “Slughorn will pay for this.”
As he sulks away, you find yourself alone in the corridor, sighing and stepping out of your heels. A humming sound emanates from behind you, the familiar tone easily identifiable to your ears. You can’t help but smile as the pieces fall into place.
“Really? Confundus?” You joke, turning your head to the side with a smirk. Theo’s arm wraps itself around your front once again, swaying you in his slow-dance way. What you didn’t expect was the feeling of his lips on your cheek, kissing you ever so softly.
“Si, bella.” He responds, switching to kiss your other cheek. “With the way he drooled on you all night, he’s lucky it wasn’t a Crucio.”
You remove his hand, letting yourself turn to face him. He kicks your heels to the side, allowing you to step closer. Your hand reaches up to caress his cheek, your finger tracing the edge of his jaw.
“Mio bel ragazzo,” you say, lifting yourself up on your tippy toes. He pulls away, catching you off guard, grounding yourself to the floor again.
“I’ve waited forever to kiss you, Y/N. Dreamed of it, even.” He pauses for a moment, gathering his words, his finger twirling around one of your stray curls. “Let me.”
The blush on your face hits a crimson peak, nodding a silent grant of permission. Your heart races as both his hands firmly cup your face, pulling you gently until you feel his lips join yours, melding into each other.
The kiss is long and earned, his lips moving against yours with intention. When he finally breaks for a breath, you tug on his collar, quickly crashing your lips back onto his. A low moan travels its way from his mouth to yours, his hands now wrapped securely around your waist. Good luck getting this boy to let go.
You pull away, letting Theo rest his forehead on yours, a stupid smile adorning his face as he processes the moment.
“For what it’s worth, I told Narcissa I wanted those earrings. I think she almost felt bad that I had to go with him.” You laughed, playing with the jewelry on your ears.
“He’s not allowed near you- no, he’s not even allowed in the same room as you from now on,” Theo says, a shadow of the tension in his jaw lingers. “Or it’s lights out for him.”
You both break into a fit of laughter at the threat, leaning on each other for balance.
You pause for a second, his eyes brimming with unspeakable joy. Your hand finds the back of his neck, grazing it with your fingertips, feeling the resulting chills it sparks on his skin.
“There’s only one room I want to be in right now, and I’d like you to take me to it.” You whisper, Theo’s expression becoming eager as he immediately lifts you up, swiftly carrying out your order. You could tell him to burn down a city and he’d do it for you.
“Am I dreaming this, bella? Am I really taking the most extraordinary person who’s ever lived back to my dorm?” He asks, relishing the feel of your arms around his neck and the scent of your vanilla perfume encompassing him.
“Wow, the most extraordinary person? Ever?!” You giggle, your voice coated with exaggeration. “What does that make you?” You ask him.
“The luckiest.”
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
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