#say they communicated he isn’t a jerk

[soloavengers]

what stills cracks me up about the ulrika romance is you wake up in a room with two beds after the fade to black. was i wrong to assume??? did they not??? what is this. two tiny beds, come on if you’re gonna throw me into this at least do it proper

[tennessoui]

it’s like baby gorl there’s no way I, the author who wrote the fic you’re commenting on and who is the intended audience for this comment, am gonna agree with you 😿🙏 some things can just stay on your chest 🙏

[fatherbrat]

“what’d you do today while i was gone, hm?” suguru asks.

is he fucking serious?

even if you wanted to answer, you can’t. your mind is gone, any remnants of conscious thought leaving you the minute suguru bottomed out. all you can think about is the feeling of his cock pumping in and out your pussy. you think you might be drooling, and you’re sure he’s smiling down at you—the same way he always does when he knows he’s fucking you dumb—but you can’t bother to confirm that either, not with the way your eyes are glazed over, making everything you see look as fuzzy as your mind feels.

suddenly, he pulls out. you blink a couple times to clear up your vision, pussy clenching around the air.

“i asked you a question,” he says. his voice is in total contrast to his face. his expression is almost playful, but the words sound anything but.

“wh-what?” you’re scrambling to try and remember what question you’re supposed to be answering, but all you can think about is how much you need him to be buried inside of you again.

there’s mirth swimming in suguru’s eyes when you meet them. you frown, frustrated with how much he’s enjoying seeing you like this—completely and thoroughly fucked out.

his hand snakes down towards your clit, brushing against it with his knuckles. it makes your hips jerk, the consequence of already being overly sensitive from two previous orgasms.

“you wanna come?” he asks, abandoning his original question and slipping a single finger inside you. “again?”

it’s cruel. him asking you questions he already knows the answers to. expecting responses when he knows you can barely form a word, let alone a full sentence. teasing you with his middle finger while fully aware of how you ache for his cock.

regardless, you nod. frantic.

suguru only laughs, thumbing your clit leisurely. a shudder vibrates your whole body. “words, baby. use your words,” he taunts.

all you can manage is a shaky “please” as you writhe under his touch. he tuts, pushing your hips down into the mattress to keep you from moving. it’s maddening how vexed he looks when he’s the one who did this to you, denying your orgasm to satisfy his own sadistic whims. suguru catches the mean curl of your upper lip, your body communicating your irritation even when you can’t.

the smile he gives you is callous. “please what?”

your annoyance cuts through the brain fog enough for you to respond coherently. “please let me cum.”

suguru isn’t a fan of the exasperation in your voice, but he chooses to ignore it, murmuring a sweet “good girl” as he plunges his cock into you in one swift movement.

a string of curses falls from your lips, eyes watering as he thrusts at a steady tempo. he says something about your dirty mouth, but you hardly hear it over the hot, coiling feeling in your gut and the static sensation in your limbs.

it doesn’t take long for you to climax again, blissful and babbling again as your cunt flutters around suguru. he groans, not waiting for you to come down before pulling out for the final time.

he tugs your head up so he can tap the flushed tip of his cock on your bottom lip. the way you open your mouth is automatic, as if he pressed a button—a testament to how well trained you are.

you’re still shivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm when he comes in your mouth. it isn’t until after you’ve swallowed down his seed and he’s pressed a tender kiss to your lips that you come out of your cockdrunk daze.

when your vision refocuses, suguru looks smug. “you wanna tell me how your day went now?”

[rustyironskillet]

Day 12: Time Travel

“Sooooo Phantom, do ya have any siblings?” Kid Flash asked as he tried to make small talk with the newest recruit to the team.

A few days ago, Young Justice was called to a meeting by Batman where he introduced their new team mate, Phantom. Phantom was a tough looking dude, he was jacked and towered over them all, even Conner!

Batman didn’t give them much information about the guy but apparently John Constentine was the one who suggested him for the team since he needed “community service hours”.

The dude was currently drinking some soda next to the computer as Red Robin searched for any new info on their latest mission. He turned his attention away from the can, and stared at Wally, his red eyes piercing into his soul.

“Why?” 

“Well we are all about to go on a mission together and none of us really know you so I think it’d be best if we all got to know you better,” that was half true. Mostly Wally was just being nosey, but the dude really did make everyone nervous since he was this really tough dude with blood red eyes and apparently was here because John Constentine said he needed community service hours???? Constentine typically say some wild shit, but what the fuck do you mean by community service? Wally knows you can’t use those for school, he’s tried, and what else gave you community service? Juvie and prison!!

Phantom stared at him hard for a few seconds, his eyes searing into the back of Wally’s skull before saying, “Okay fine”.

The answer surprised everyone in the room, I mean the guy had barely even spoken the last few days and had rejected every question about his personal life.

“Depending on how you see it, I have 2 to 4 siblings”

“Is your father a serial adopter too?” Tim joked.

“Yes and no”

“Huh?” 

“It’s pretty complicated,” Phantom shrugged, seemingly deciding to end the conversation there and taking another swig of his drink.

However, Tim, out of annoyances of every attempt to get to know this jerk being thwarted and a bit of confidence his family was more complicated, decided to challenge Phantom’s statement.

“Ehh, it probably isn’t as complicated as my family, we got about 50 more siblings adopted each month, all with lots much trauma”

At this, Phantom narrowed his eyes at Tim.

“I see what your doing, your trying to get me to talk tell you guy more about my family by acting like yours are more insane”

“Am I?” Tim asked, trying to hide the shivers going down his spine from the way Phantom was staring at him.

Phantom to a huge swig of his soda, emptying it and throwing it into the garbage, before fully turning to Tim.  

“You’re lucky I am always good for competitions, now sit down this is going to take a bit”

Tim gladly obliged and soon everyone sat around Phantom as if it were storytime in kindergarten.

“Okay, so at first I only had an older sister and my parents” Phantom began, “but then they died because of a mistake I made and I had to move in with my evil godfather”

Megan raised her hand and asked, “Isn’t a godfather someone who is very close to the family? Why would your parents choose an evil person?”

“‘Cause my dad was oblivious to this and though they were good friends even though the dudes tried to kill him multiple times”

“I see,” Megan lowered her hand, no less confused.

“There I went mad with grief and had him remove my humanity and tried to kill all of humanity”

“I think that was a bit of an overreaction,” Wally joked.

“You tried to kill all of humanity? Why weren’t we told of this when it happened?” Kaldur'ahm asked.

“That was in a different timeline, I was a big enough problem that they gods tried to kill the younger version of me to stop me, so to avoid dying, my younger version decide to try to defeat me and the only reason he did was cause I was underestimating him,” Phantom emphasized the last part because he had to stress he didn’t not lose to a 15 year old boy because he was weaker than him.

“What happened next?,” Artemis asked, completely inraptured in the story.

“I was then imprisoned for sometime before escaping, causing problems and then realizing that causing younger mean the same pain I experienced won't bring my loved ones back,” Phantom continued to explain, “so I am now going to therapy, doing community service, and got the majority of my powers taken away”.

“Is your therapist open to seeing new patients?” Konner asked.

“No, but this timelines version of my sister is and she has a lot of experience so I can give you her number instead”

“Sure, that’ll work”

“Okay,” Phantom said before writing her number down and handing it to Konner, “The thing is I can’t go back to living with my real parents because they don’t know that I am Phantom so I have to go back to living this timelines version of my godfather”

“You gotta be kidding me” Tim groans.

“Exactly what I said!!” Phantom put his arm up defensively, “Fortunately, this version is a little better, he is no longer tiring to kill my dad and has stopped chasing after my mom, he did clone the other of me and now there is a genderbent version of him but my godfather treats her like a princess and will not stop spoiling her, which I am also guilty of”

Phantoms continues to explain more and in the back of Tim's mind he remembers he was supposed to be doing something but honestly this conversation was too good to care.

“Anyways that's how I technically have 2 to 4 siblings, Jazz and Elle are permanently my sisters and I love them so much, and even though the other Jazz is technically the same as this Jazz, I still think of her as someone else, someone I miss dearly. Also if I considered this Jazz my sister, I guess I’d have to considered the other me as my brother”

“Damn bitch your family is crazy” Wally said, happy he finally managed to get through Phantom’s tough skin.

As they finished up their storytime, the Zeta-tubes activated and Red Tornado and an upset looking Batman walked to the group.

“You all were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago”

[themeraldee]

Awkward sex prompt: homelander figuring out how to control his strength with a human reader, who still wants rough sex, but would prefer to be alive at the end of it.

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 1.2k | Homelander x gn!Reader | Realistic sex. Communicating during sex. Choking. Penetration (but not specified). Fluff at the end.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“But I want you to.” 

It really should have been no surprise to Homelander when you requested he goes a little rougher on you in bed. At first he was taken aback, stopping the pace he was fucking into you with, jerking his head back as if offended, choking on his breath in surprise. You know who he is, bringing up the use of his strength is no small ask. But you’ve shown the signs before. He could hear the spike in your heart rate anytime he’d showcase the incomprehensible strength he possesses. Whether it was him moving heavy objects, accidentally bending steel frames in his penthouse or breaking furniture—like that one time he ripped the headboard off during a particularly fine blowjob—you loved it. Though he never thought that your dirty little thoughts went straight to him using that strength on you. 

“What if I can’t hold back?” He looks down where you’re right below him, all flushed and spread out for him. He’s been giving you a damn good time but it’s like you can never get enough of him. Always wanting more, more, more.

“You can. You’ve been doing it your entire life. Adding a tiny bit more pressure isn’t gonna change anything.”

The one thing Homelander loves about you the most is the pure trust you have in him. After all you’ve seen of him you still believe that there’s no world in which he would purposefully hurt you. So to hear you all but beg for him to use strength that has more than decimated many gets his heart soaring. The feeling of acceptance and unconditional love blooms warm in his chest spreading all the way out to the fingertips currently wrapped around your neck.

“Come on, what’s the point of being the strongest man in the world if you can’t rough me up a bit? I’ll tell you if it’s too painful okay?”

Your hand sat on top, your fingers tracing over his as you squeezed your hand.

“A little more.” You guide him verbally and manually. Your hand is still squeezing around his own until you reach a point where you’re satisfied with his confidence to do this himself and you pull your hand away. “Yeah, that’s it.” You squeak out a little breathlessly as he restricts your airflow.

“That’s good?” He asks, choking on his words halfway at the way you squeeze around him while he’s still lodged firmly inside you. He jerks with his movement, giving you a very short snappy thrust but after your little intermission where you taught him how to choke even this little sensation made you moan.

Homelander’s eyes widen when he realizes the sheer potential of your request. Not only could he hear your heartbeat, your shaky breaths and moans, he could now also feel them. Right against his fingertips. The moan vibrated against his hot skin, your heartbeat constantly thrumming all around him. He felt it in the way you were tight and clenching around him and now he felt it under his grip.

He released his hand a little, settling the palm of it in between your collarbones.

“See? Wasn’t that good? I love feeling your strength, let me have a little more of it.” You say it with such conviction, inviting him in, accepting him exactly—no, especially—because of the way he is.

The last thing Homelander wants is to not be able to fulfill your needs. As much as the thought of hurting you—actually hurting you—kills him, if it’s something you find excitement in he’ll be damned if he doesn’t deliver.

He pulls you down the length of the bed a little bit to give himself more space and with a grin he pins your wrists above your head, holding them down against the mattress with little effort. He knows he’s doing something right when that startles you, you let out a cute yelp that quickly turns into a moan. God, he could eat you up with the way you’re looking at him. But he’s gonna need to leave that for round two. Now he’s here to fulfill a wish.

He slowly picks up the pace. He’s thrusting slow and deep while his other hand freely explores your body underneath him, giving it generous squeezes as he goes. He’s testing the give of you. Learning where he can apply the pressure you so desperately crave. 

He’s fucking into your faster now, grunting at the sheer heat of you surrounding his cock with every slide. His hand glides up your body, settling back on your neck. He gives you a look as if he was warning you of what’s to happen. Yet he still manages to catch you off guard. With the snap of his hips and the iron-clad grip of his hand your eyes widen in what Homelander only translates to fear.

Immediately, he lets go.

“Why did you stop?!” You look at him, your own hand gliding across where his hand was squeezing a second ago, as if to chase the phantom feeling, recreating it yourself.

“Why did I stop? You got scared and I don’t want to fucking kill you!” He sounds angry but it’s mainly to hide the genuine worry that comes with this irresponsible play. It’s already hard for him to hold back anytime you’re having normal sex. Wanting him to rough you up conjures very different imagery in either one of your minds.

“Baby, the scary part is the best bit. I know you’ll stop before it’s too much. You can feel the give of my body. Let yourself feel that, okay?” You say softly, soothing his fears. In your entire relationship he’s not managed to hurt you, you don’t imagine it was about to start now.

“Now come on, I wanna cum with your hand around my neck.” You give him a cheeky smile that breaks him out of any doubts he had about manhandling you the way you’ve requested.

He’s given you exactly what you’ve asked for. Just enough squeeze and pressure that you feel so overwhelmed with the greatness of his presence pinning you down and nearly squeezing the life out of you that you succumb to your release. Homelander follows you there, unable to hold off after seeing the way you look at him with such adoration right after he let your airways open fully and you regained your senses. 

After you’re both beyond blissed out you snuggle up to one another, locking the jigsaw pieces of your bodies together.

Homelander traces a finger across the bruised finger marks wrapping around your neck. Part of him relishes in the way he’s managed to brand you where you won’t be able to hide it easily. Even with a scarf or a turtleneck, any slight move of the garment will expose the impressive size of your lovingly placed bruises. 

The other part of him isn’t that happy about it.

“I hurt you.”

“Duh! I wanted you to!” You scoff as if it was the most obvious thing.

His fingers trace over them some more before he leans in, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin.  

“You’re fucking crazy.” He lets out a little disbelieving laugh as he pulls you closer into his arms.

“Yeah, you’ve been rubbing off on me.”

“Nope, this is all you.” 

“Maybe. Hey, can we try spanking next?”

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @infinetlyforgotten  @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss

[jaegerdilf]

pairings: choso kamo x f! reader

warnings: oral + virginity + non / dubcon + cumplay

💌: choso has been rotting my brain so so bad n i need to write smth for him 😵‍💫 pls accept this as my formal intro to the jjk writing community on here

to say choso is inexperienced is an understatement. he can count the amount of times he’s jerked off on one hand and he’s never even had sex, but ever since he met you all he wants is to bury his cock inside your cunt and fuck you til he’s spent.

it becomes increasingly more difficult for choso to resist taking what he wants, blushing a deep red every time you speak to him because just seconds before he was picturing you beneath him, pussy stretched beyond it’s limits as he fucks you raw and fills your womb with load after load of his sticky cum, wanting nothing more than to use you for his pleasure.

he bides his time, growing closer to you and gaining your trust, subtly sinking his grasp deeper and deeper into you before suggesting you let him fuck you. what he doesn’t know, is that you crave his dick just as bad, spending your nights humping a pillow to the thought of him rearranging your insides.

you make your move first, “accidentally” grinding against choso’s sensitive bulge or pressing your tits into his arms, tired of waiting around for him to do something and each interaction leaves him impossibly hard, seconds away from blowing his load and cumming in his pants.

he’s finally had enough when you bend over and flash your panties, his eyes locked on the wet spot on the gusset and he nearly salivates while staring at your cunt.

choso wastes no time forcing you to your knees, watching as your eyes glaze over and noticing how eager you are to obey.

“oh,” he says, laughing a little when the realization that you’re a cockslut hits him, “you wanted this, huh?”

you nod dumbly, unable to tear your eyes away as he frees his cock. the veins make your mouth water but his thickness scares you, wondering how the hell you’re meant to take that. it’s almost like he can read your mind and it makes you shudder when your hear him speak. “don’t worry sweetheart, i’ll make it fit.”

that’s the only warning you receive before choso forces his entire length down your throat, not bothering to ask for permission. he uses you like a toy, ignoring your gags in favor of focusing on the feeling of your throat tightening up around him, grunting when you use your tongue to trace a vein on the underside of his cock. you do your best to keep your eyes open and on his face. he isn’t usually expressive but it seems as though the white hot pleasure he feels has done a number on him, brows furrowed and his jaw tight while you work your mouth over him.

he can feel his orgasm approaching as he fucks your throat and reluctantly pulls you off his cock, a whiney moan escaping him as you suckle the tip before releasing him from your mouth.

“why’d you make me stop?” you pout, voice raspy from having your mouth violated. you’re itching to make him cum and drain his balls until he can’t anymore, desperate to finally taste him.

choso’s torso is flushed and covered in sheen of sweat, the view making your thighs clench while you wait for him to do something. “made you stop ‘cause i’m gonna cum on your pretty face.”

he curses when you look up at him through wet lashes, tears threatening to fall, tongue hanging out in preparation for his thick load and it makes him cum almost instantly. he doesn’t even have to stroke his cock before it’s twitching and he’s emptying his balls on your face. his load is thick and seems never ending, globs of it draping over your lashes and covering your face, making you moan when some makes its way into your mouth.

choso thinks he’s in love.

in love with how you drag your fingers across your face and slip the cum coated digits in your mouth. the urge to kiss you is strong and he gives into it immediately, pressing his lips to your clumsily before you take the lead and slide your tongue into his mouth, causing him to groan into the kiss when he tastes himself on your tongue.

[helloyellow17]

Idk man I might get torn to shreds for saying this, but I simply cannot understand the new trend, particularly among younger internet users, where people write a laundry list of their triggers in their bio and then expect everyone to read and cater to said list on a PUBLIC PLATFORM.

This is the same mentality that drives people to attack appropriately tagged fics on AO3 for having x y or z content because “How dare you post this when I have trauma about this???” Obviously if someone is going to write a super heavy and highly sensitive fic and NOT tag it properly, they ought to be called out on it. But this isn’t about that, it’s about the people who don’t curate their own content, it’s about the people who enter public spaces and demand that the general public cater to THEM specifically.

Additionally: Listing out your triggers for everyone to see is just ASKING for trolls to come into your inbox and flood you with triggering content. (Unfortunately, as much as we would like to believe otherwise, the internet is full of selfish jerks who don’t give a crap about anybody’s trauma.) Not only this, but the algorithm does not read your bio. The algorithm does not care about your triggers unless YOU make sure to block specific tags and content.

YOU are responsible for curating your own content, and nobody else.

Obviously this is not to say people shouldn’t try to tag their posts for common triggers, because that’s the common courtesy thing to do. But if Becky has a phobia of bees, it is on her to block that tag and curate her feed around it, and she does not get the exclusive right to suddenly demand that nobody talk about bees within a ten mile radius of her. If Alec has a phobia of dogs, then it is well within his right to avoid contact with them, but he doesn’t get to go to a public park and yell at anybody who brings their dog there. It is his responsibility to know his own limits and seek out parks that are dog-free. (If someone brings a dog to a dog-free area, that’s a whole different issue that I won’t be getting into rn but yes, the person who does that is in the wrong there.)

The internet is widely a public space. If you want to create a safe space completely and utterly free of your specific triggers, you have to put the work in to make that space for yourself. You don’t get to ask other internet strangers to do it for you.

I’m saying this out of genuine concern (and admittedly, frustration) because there are so many young teens in fandom nowadays who don’t understand this, and they end up putting themselves in extremely vulnerable and even downright dangerous situations because they don’t understand that putting your well-being in the hands of a stranger is a terrible idea.

Please be safe, and for the love of all that is holy, be reasonable. Curating your content yourself is just as much a protection for you as it is a vital key that allows public communities to function.

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @theotherbuckley @kitteneddiediaz

thanks darlins!

here's some of buck and eddie visiting texas post lightning strike because why not (for context eddie's parents are trying to have buck and eddie sleep in separate rooms)

A sigh so heavy it could break bone falls out of Eddie. “No, Mom. This isn’t up for discussion. We’re both adults, alright?”

And, despite how to this day Eddie believes he has to be the steady one and maintain any amount of peace possible, he allows his mouth to keep running, which is probably due to Buck’s bad influence.

Though he is sure Buck would say it’s because Eddie has pettiness in place of bone marrow.

Which, maybe that’s true and maybe it isn’t, but Eddie has never been one to back down and he likes having the last word and maybe he gets a little thrill from winning, so yeah, no amount of pleading from his parents or sweet looks from Buck that communicate his willingness to accept whatever Eddie deems appropriate is gonna keep him from being, well, him.

“Besides,” he adds, shrugging far too casually, “it’s not like I can get him pregnant.” He jerks his chin toward Buck as if there could be any mistaking who Eddie is referring to.

Beside him, Buck chokes.

It’s an awful enough sound that Eddie looks over at him in alarm, but Buck is fine, just red as a fire engine and coughing into his fist, the edge of a wild smile digging into his cheek which he’s trying to hide.

tagging: @shitouttabuck @spaceprincessem @hotshotsxyz @transboybuckley @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @bigfootsmom @queerdiazs @lemonzestywrites @try-set-me-on-fire @rewritetheending @sibylsleaves @shyaudacity @absolutelybifurious @exhuastedpigeon @bi-buckrights @lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @butchdiaz @wikiangela @hippolotamus @dr-shortsighted-owl @devirnis @colonoscopys and anyone else who wants to share!

[konpeitonom]

jimmy nsfw alphabet PLEASEE and maybe curly too

jimmy nsfw alphabet.

nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader — cw for jimmy overall.. manipulation/dubcon. this might be a little heavy to some so if you’re extremely sensitive to anything i’d just skip this one. he is misogynistic to hell. hints of bi jimmy :^

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; using every guy i’ve ever known as inspo for writing this. don’t like? don’t read. block button is right there. i never write jimmy in a positive light and never will! curlys is already posted!

nsfw under the cut! minors do not read

a — aftercare, (what they’re like after sex)

— i mean. if you ask for water or food he’ll give it to you (begrudgingly..), but it’s not something he’ll actively do. you know? he knows he can be rough at times but it’s not really a priority to him. besides, he kinda likes the sight of you all used up.

b — body part (their favorite body part, and their partners)

— for himself, his arms/shoulders. since he lifts i think he is quite lean..

— for you? probably your chest! he likes to grab at your boobs and squeeze at them, laughing at how you yelp or whatever.

c — cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— i think his favorite would be on your face, like it gets in your hair and it’s all gross and stuff. that or would force it down your throat. wouldn’t let you go until you’ve swallowed it full. he’s scummy!

— i’ve mentioned it once before but he’s not the kind to just. not pleasure you. he has to make sex worthwhile for you to wanna do it- without much work on trying to convince you on his end. he’ll make sure you cum eventually.

d — dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

— man where would i even start..

— i’ll keep it a bit light for now, maybe. he’s jerked off to you, on you, as you sleep. it’s into stuff like that. you just look so sexy laid there. sometimes he cleans it and sometimes he doesn’t.

— he always tells you the next day, however.

e — experience (how experienced are they?)

— he’s like the opposite of curly. very little committed relationships, many, many one night stands. he thinks if girls are willing to give their bodies up like that after one night, there’s no reason to be in any sort of committed relationship.

f — favorite position (self explanatory)

— you bent over some sort of table, or wall sex. whatever constrains you where he doesn’t have to do much work to do so. he also loves to pull on your hair so positions where he’s able to do that he’s into.

g — goofy (are they more serious in the moment?)

— he doesn’t think about it. like mood and tension? as long as he gets off. might make a few jokes here or there but doesn’t think much of it.

h — hair (how well groomed are they?)

— he trims if it gets too much, but it’s not really anything he cares about. doesn’t care if you’re bothered by it.

i — intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic wise?)

— he’s not the most romantic. maybe on special occasions like your first time together, or your birthday, anniversary.. he’ll say ‘i love you’, just maybe. but in the long run he really only does it so you’ll stay.

j — jack off (masturbation headcanon)

— he jerks off whenever possible. maybe a bit of an exaggeration. the type to just jerk off while scrolling on his phone, ‘just cause’- he doesn’t think much of it and doesn’t really have one to one sessions. if he’s alone and bored he’s jerking off.

k — kink (one of their kinks)

— as a community of jimmy fuckers (i am not apart of said community, but i see you) i appreciate how we all agree he is into ddlg. he’s gross. and honestly for kinks, i’d be better to write off things he isn’t into. he’d watch women get tortured to get off, there really isn’t much he wouldn’t do.

— i won’t elaborate much on the ddlg thing because it’s personally not something i’d want to write about. but he’s into it, 100%.

— things like slapping, air restriction, tying his partner up, free use, water sports, somnophilia, corruption.. fuck- anything. really anything. just ask and he’s probably willing to do it.

l — location (favorite places to do it)

— likes bathroom stalls in gas stations because he thinks they are especially degrading and gross. even more so when you’re on your knees and pleasuring him. semi-public settings just turn him on.

m — motivation (what turns them on)

— this man gets horny to the smallest things..

— tease him even a little- show him skin on purpose and he’s fucking you straight. doesn’t take much for him to get hard.

n — no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

— blank

— okay but anything that feels as if he’s not in full control. he likes tying you up, but he would not want to be. no way.

o — oral (preference in giving, receiving)

— he prefers receiving. eating pussy is not something he really likes to do. what pleasure could he derive from that, even? if you asked then maybe, if it’s something you really wanted.

p — pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

— fast and rough. maybe slow and rough if he’s tired. he thinks rougher is better, and maybe to him but maybenot for you..

q — quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often)

— he’s into them. his goal with sex is to just get off, doesn’t care if it’s quick or ‘intimate’ as people would say. if you like them then that’s great! he’d rather do quickies than bother with actual, actual sex.

r — risk (are they willing to experiment? do they take risks?)

— he’s willing to risk a lot.. nothing that would ruin his public image, but like.. fucking in a park late at night, where someone might catch you. yeah, he’d do that. he thinks it’s hotter if you’re all exposed, and he’s masked and shit.

s — stamina (self explanatory)

— uh. like 2 rounds? anything more than that would just tire him out i think.

t — toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on themselves or their partner?)

— owns a fair share of toys, i won’t lie.. yes he owns a dildo and yes it’s for himself. he has toys for his partner as well he likes to use them often, multiple forms of stimulation- and seeing your reaction to that is extremely sexy..

u — unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

— a lot, he teases a lot.. he likes orgasm delay and stuff like that- sometimes he wouldn’t let you cum at all. he’d say such mean things in bed to, to mock you and such. shaming you for letting him do this to you. all round horrible guy.

v — volume (how loud are they? what sounds do they make?)

— he likes your noises over his. is that a surprise? thinks it’s one of the prettiest things about you. so he likes to keep it down. he’d say some stupid shit like.. making noises is a ‘girl thing’.

w — wild card (a random headcanon)

— occasionally he likes to overstimulate you, making you cum over and over. makes him feel as if he could control you if he could please you like that. no other man could, right?

x — x-ray (what’s going on underneath?)

— his penis is extremely mediocre and regular. he’s seen curlys and is extremely jealous of him. it’s funny sorry. not every guy can have a good dick, and jimmy is apart of that percentage.

y — yearning (how high is their sex drive?

— pretty high. if you’re open to fucking 1-2 times a day he is open and willing. but if that’s too much, maybe once every other day.

z — zzz.. (how quickly they fall asleep)

— falls asleep quick, but only needs like- a 10 minute nap or so. not the type to sleep, sleep- even if it’s late at night.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

MICHAEL MYERS | THE SHAPE (any iteration | any canon timeline idc)

—

Sex w/ Michael Myers (Michael Myers x Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

NSFW, 18+, minors dni, shoddy communication (because Michael), mild dubious consent

Pic Source: Rob Zombie’s Halloween, Halloween II, & Halloween Kills(?)

Michael ain’t easy when it comes to letting you know he’s horny.

Let’s say you’re at your computer desk working when he’s suddenly behind you.

He’s all up on you in seconds, lifting you up, taking your place in the chair, and putting you on his lap.

His rough hands find your breasts shortly after. Michael doesn’t speak as he touches you but with him so close you can hear the small groans that crawl up his throat.

You arch your back against him as he tweaks your nipples. Rubbing the dark nubs between his thumb and forefinger incessantly.

Moaning, you throw your head back on his shoulder to pant out: “What has gotten into you?”

He doesn’t react much to the question, only getting just that much louder groaning in your ear as he starts to rut up against your ass.

No sooner is he rubbing his length against your core through the layers of fabric between y’all and you’re left moaning and wondering when he’ll get impatient (because now you’re turned on too and you’re getting impatient) when he hoists you over his shoulder to reposition you.

Michael isn’t a cock warming type of man but once he gets you on the nearest flat surface he’s stuffing his semi erect dick into you with zero hesitation.

He squeezes your thigh and grunts at you to get a move on until you start milking him to full hardness.

After that it’s all Michael for the next while until he gets off, you cuming when he’s trying to nut is not the goal but if you happen to then that’s nice (initially at least).

Mainly Michael deals with himself first before coming back to finish you off after. He will breed you - every time - if you do not dissuade him from the action.

Regardless of where Michael’s cum, once he’s taken care of himself is when whether or not you came while he was getting off will come into play. If you didn’t then you’ll be well taken care of by relentless, nicely overwhelming precision. If you did, on the other hand, then prepare to be thoroughly punished because Michael is going to give you special attention whether you still want it now or not.

This man will (and revels in it tbh) overstimulate you to tears. You wanted to come so bad well then here you go, he doesn’t care if you're jerking around and sobbing he’s more than strong enough to restrain you.

Any form of aftercare depends on the version of Michael. RZ!Michael is definitely going to try, and with some direction from you he’ll be amazing at it. He wants that softer, less frenzied connection with you after the fact, and aftercare soothes and reassures you as well as him. OG!Michael and Old Man Myers (or Peepaw, as the ladies call him) on the other hand I firmly believe won’t care for aftercare all that much; at most you’ll get some base level rearranging done so that you're on a more comfortable surface and whatever supplies you might need will be easy to find and that’s it.

In general; if you're not in the mood (or are alternatively never in the mood) Michael is more or less easily dissuaded. You kind of have to start the pattern of sex for it to be something he goes looking for from you in the first place. If he can’t let out his sexual frustrations with you though then he has plenty of other fleshy and easily stab-able ways to let that frustration out.

Michael also regularly goes dormant - usually of his own accord - and has periods where he doesn’t kill so it’s pretty safe to assume that the same goes for his sex drive. When he’s in the mood to fuck is harder to track, and more spontaneous, than when he’s about to gear up to unleash his bloodthirst on the world though.

On another note let’s say you’re the one in the mood but Michael’s pretty firmly not. Likely it’s because he’s obsessing over a target for whatever reason. During times like these though, when his stalking and slashing are in high demand, you’ll barely even catch sight of him until he’s satisfied regardless.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

I won’t say this was my best work, but I can only fuck around with a post for so long and I think a year was more than long enough for this to be ruminating in my drafts.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[bullet-prooflove]

In For Five: Tyler Owens x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hunterthecharmer @heylookwhoitis @shakespeareanwannabe

Companion piece to:

The Mechanic - Tyler faces a problem when Boone brings his mechanic ex girlfriend back into the fold.

Rigs -Tyler reflects on history with you

Ford Mustang - Tyler extends an olive branch.

Engine Parts - Tyler and you try to clear the air.

Your first job with the Wranglers is to get Tyler’s truck back to your garage in Lawton. When you step out of your tow truck and lay eyes on it, you know it’s going to be a bigger job than you initially reckoned because the poor thing is barely holding itself together in the aftermath of it’s adventures in a tornado.

“You can fix it right?” Tyler asks as you stand before the vehicle with your arms crossed over your chest.

“It looks like it needs an exorcism.” You tell him with a sigh before attaching the chain to the truck. “Let’s hope it holds together long enough for me to get it home.”

Arnett is almost three hours away from Lawton and Tyler decides to ride shotgun, leaving the other Wranglers with the RV as they help locals rebuild the community where tornado hit.

“It’s where the money from all the merch goes.” He tells you as you hurtle down the 60, your eyes on the road, Luke Combs on the radio. “We try to help out as best we can.”

He was the same back then too, you recall, throwing himself into the thick of it, pitching in any way he could.

It’s an hour into the trip that you realise he’s fallen asleep, the lyrics to Fast Car are still playing but Tyler’s voice isn’t accompanying them. You look over to see him tucked up against the door of your tow truck, head resting on the window, arms crossed over his chest. He looks so boyish in that moment, so care free and you remember what Boone had said when he’d taken you aside after Tyler had climbed inside your truck.

“He hasn’t been sleeping since the big one.” He confides in you. “He says he’s fine but what happened in that movie theatre scared the shit out of all of us especially when we almost lost Lily.”

Tyler hasn’t talked much about the tornado other than a brief outline of Kate’s work, it isn’t until that moment you realise just how close it had been for all of them. It explains the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes these days.

It’s when you pull into the garage that you try to wake him. You try saying his name but he doesn’t stir so instead you reach across to touch him, your hand lightly squeezing his shoulder. He jerks awake, his body tensing, his eyes wide and fearful and you know that he was back there again, trapped in that movie theatre along with everyone else, waiting to die.

“Hey, it’s alright.” You say softly, your hand coming to cup the side of his face, your thumb tracing over the dusting of stubble across his cheek. “It’s just me.”

His hand clasps your palm to his face, his heart thudding in his chest as he closes his eyes and his breathing stuttered.

“In for five.” You whisper and he draws in a deep breath. “Hold for five and then out for five.”

It’s a throwback to three years ago, when you used to wake up with your pulse racing in the middle of the night. He’d be right there with you, his forehead resting on yours as he soothed away your tears.

“Do it with me.” He’d say as he looked into your eyes, drowning out everything else but the sensation of his chest pressing moving in time with yours. “In for five.”

His breathing starts to even out, his shoulders relaxing. His lips brush over the underside of your wrist, his heated breath ghosting over your skin as his eyes meet yours. It takes you back to the last time the two of you were together in a motel room in Kansas, him undressing you by the light of the street lamp outside, his lips chasing over every inch of you before he took you apart.

“We’re home.” You whisper and Tyler sighs because home is where ever you are, it’s just taken him this long to realise it.

Love Tyler? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[charnelhouse]

moments

pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 2k+ summary: Joel and you in a hotel phone booth. warnings: rough sex. ooc joel loving danger. pain/pleasure for real. biting. oral. A/N: same reader as the one in bad people, but no need to read. Joel Miller Masterlist

His hands on you are unforgiving as he presses your back against the wall. It’s an old telephone booth in a dead hotel. The lobby is a swamp and the standing water taints the air with its own specific rot. 

The booth is nearly dry, though. The space is unforgivably narrow so that your bodies are enfolded together, collapsing like dominoes. He’d pulled you in here with no explanation, but that isn’t new. Joel remains the enigma he’s always been. You trust him even when he’s told you not to. He is noncommittal. He is a constrictor knot. Teflon. If he was tossed into the sea, he’d find the bottom and drag himself ashore. Pissed, but alive.

It's possible that he’s perfectly readable and you're the problem. Maybe, he truly is what he says he is because he has always declared his intentions. 

What do you want, Joel?

What kind of question is that?

Just a question. 

Why don’t you focus on cleaning that gun, okay?

***

Today, he’s got something howling inside of him. His arms are bound around your waist, his nose grazing your jaw before he bites your throat. 

“Joel!” you cry, jerking from the sting of his teeth. 

He draws away, licks the branded skin. “Silent,” he orders. “We don’t want to bring them down on us, yeah?”

Your heart leaps, sliding and catching on your ribs as you dig your fingers into his shoulders. He’d removed his jacket and you can feel how flame-hot his muscles are under his thin black t-shirt. “You don’t think they’re–”

“Quiet,” he repeats as he grabs you under your ass, lifts, and drops you on the small table connected to the wall.

This is so dangerous. This is so dangerous.

Joel catches you by the knees, forces them against his sides. He’s fired up about something, full of vinegar as he begins to undress you. Your jeans are roughly dragged down your legs as he uses his other hand to fiddle with his belt.

You swear you catch the fluttering click outside the glass partition. You hear creaks. Wails. Monsters communicating in the black space, waiting to devour you and yours.

Joel only seems determined. Defiant. Let us almost get torn apart in the name of an orgasm.

You have never met someone so willing to not only flirt with dire situations, but thoroughly fuck them. Joel continuously acts like he wants to die, then turns around and lives.

With his thick fingers, he snags them around the crotch of your panties and yanks them upward so that they scrape and agitate the seam of your cunt. You inhale sharply, smack his chest with an audible thwack, but it only encourages him. He jerks the panties again and the fabric bunches against your clit, stimulates you to the point that you get slicker and release a high-pitched mewl.

“Thatta’ girl.” The corner of his mouth curls smugly and you don’t know what he’s supposed to have won when you’ve already submitted. He releases your underwear before removing them and tucking them into his pocket. They’re probably ruined, anyway. “Take a breath,” he urges as he begins to stroke himself. His cock is an angry thing-thick, pink and beading pre-cum. “You’re working yourself up.”

You listen, inhaling, exhaling, and then another round. You watch the way he’s holding himself as he waits for you to unwind. This is a common occurrence. You get all panicky and overheated because sometimes Joel makes your heart thud at the center of your cunt. It’s too good and it’s frightening.

“There you go,” he soothes as your thighs open of their own volition. You lift your hips, offering yourself plainly. He braces one hand on the table beside you, the other under your ass before guiding himself into you. You feel it make contact, the blunt head smearing the lips of your pussy. He presses forward before angling to the right and then he’s sinking to the hilt.

He groans quietly as his forehead meets yours. He’s wet with sweat, the salt drips. He smells like kerosene and blood. Inside you, there is the heat of him-molten and sharp. He eases back before snapping forward, claiming you in fragments. At one point, he crushes your lips together, stealing your breath just as he drives to the hilt. No give. No inch.

Very Joel.

***

Joel maintains a steady, deliberate rhythm. Each pump of his hips jostles your tits, makes your teeth click. You’re falling, losing sense and then he snatches the nape of your neck and drags you back to him, his tongue licking into your mouth. “You stay with me,” he rumbles as his cock burns a curved line through the channel of your sex. You swear you feel him in your belly. 

“It hurts,” you breathe against his teeth. “You’re too-”

“I know,” he sympathizes. “I know, baby. You’re taking it alright, though. You’re doing fuckin’ good.”

The pain is, of course, secondary. You play this game like all the others. Joel and his rough, frantic fucking. You and your willingness to offer up your body because to have Joel at all feels akin to owning a panther. He’s bad. Nothing like your dead boyfriend, Luke, who would hold your face to his as he made love to you. He’d kiss your breast, worship the place above your heart. He’d lick you between your legs until he managed to pull some tiny, subtle ounce of pleasure from your ugliness.

Joel eats you out like he’s dying. Joel inhales you as if he could devour your sex, consequently leaving you shaking and bruised from his mouth. It’s unnerving that you prefer Joel’s style. 

Am I terrible?

Am I sick?

You realize you want that now. It’s a startling feeling. He’s got the side of his face against your cheek, the constant hum of his gravelly uh uh uh’s blurring through your hair. He’s driving into you punishingly, stretching you into two separate halves. You grasp his shoulders and turn your head, lips sliding against his ear. “Joel…”

He takes a ragged breath before he pecks your jaw as if remembering you’re there. “Yeah?”

“I need you…” you trail off, slightly bulldozed by the pressure of him when he picks up the pace, a vicious snap snap snap of his hips. You’re sweat-slick and overwhelmed. You think you’d be happy being attached to him, growing out of him. Addicted to the way he feels in your cunt. 

You want him to infect you.

You think that’s what your sex is like. Joel and you infect each other until the other burns away.

“Need what, honey?” he rasps. The pet names are few and far between. They are only administered when he’s pussy-drunk or has his cock down your throat.

“I want you to taste me.”

You utter the sentence with some grit to frame it as an order rather than a request. You know it’s because Joel is so far gone right now, he needs a harsh hand. 

He nips your neck as he slows his thrusts. Interested. “You want me to eat your pussy?”

You nod, clenching at his bluntness. Joel rarely speaks like that. But today? He’s on one. You clamp down again, vibrating with a frantic desire for his mouth on you.

“Fuck-you liked that.” He chuckles before slowly dislodging himself from your embrace. “So,” He draws away so you can see him. His face flushed and damp with sweat. His pupils dilated and glinting several shades of brown. He steps back just enough that his cock slips out. He glances down, his hand sliding from your chest, down your belly and to your cunt. Without warning, he shoves two fingers inside you, forcing a yelp from your throat. He slams his other hand over your mouth. 

“I said silent,” he hums as he continues to stare at your entrance that’s plugged full of his fingers. You’re utterly vulnerable: pinned down, thighs open, and your pussy loose and raw from how aggressively he’d been using it. 

“You want me…” He curls his fingers, massaging the inner lining of your walls. Your hips buck. “...to lick your pussy after I’ve just fucked it open?”

He lifts an eyebrow suggestively. His expression is menacing- hungrier than you’ve ever seen it. You’re dazed, completely gone, but his face anchors you. You’ve counted the lines in it’s surface: the scars, the sunspots and the grays. You’d know it in a crowd of thousands.

“Yes-s,” you reply with conviction even though he’s begun scissoring his fingers, jamming to the knuckle with a squelch that would be embarrassing if he didn’t appear so turned on by it. “I want you anyway I can have you.”

He blinks for a moment, seemingly surprised before the look flickers away as quick as it had come. It had been a confession on your part. A damn truth. Joel was incapable of being cracked open or brought to heel. He was hard-obsidian and graphite and the hero in a Greek tragedy. 

From what you had gathered, he had done nothing of note pre-outbreak. He’d been a carpenter. He’d been a father though that revelation had only been mentioned once and by Tommy. He had lived a quiet life and now? He lived with something screaming in his head.

Your own desperation is painted ripe across your face and body. You’ve proven how far you’d go for him, allowing him to fuck you in a condemned hotel that could be crawling with clickers. He’d been so worked up, still shaking from the earlier fight with a couple raiders. 

Come with me.

Why?

Just do it. 

Wordlessly, Joel begins to lower himself to the ground. He allows your legs to fall over his shoulders as he stares openly at your cunt. “Scoot forward, then,” he directs. “Bring it to my face.”

You could die. You could burn up and die, but, instead, you follow instruction. He doesn’t tiptoe around it, doesn’t tease or taunt. No, Joel just shoves his head between your legs and begins to lap at your cunt. His calloused, broad hands engulf you. One latched to your hip and the other against your throat as he pins you to the wooden wall of the booth. The blunt nails of his fingers skate your skin as he wiggles his tongue through your folds before sucking your clit between his lips. His beard catches on your inner thighs, his mustache tickling your mound as his nose digs into tender flesh. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, the pleasure swelling inside your core, turning over and over until it threatens to bolt. You knock your head back against the wall and the pain is welcome, it sobers you enough that you can look down and watch Joel eat you out. His lashes long as pen strokes, his tongue bulldozing through your nerve endings as he hauls you to the edge. He works a little harder, latches to your cunt. He suckles and slurps, messy and indecent, but everything about Joel is messy. His hand clamps more firmly around your throat, his other holding your hip down. Come for me. It says. Come now. 

You do, legs trembling as your pelvis lurches against his chin. He eases away, wiping his mouth and you feel empty. Detached. It wasn’t enough. That scares you.

“Joel,” you whimper, pleading as you reach for him. He stands, cock stiff and red jutting against his belly. You can see the patch of olive skin beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He steps back, grabs you harshly by the ass and drags you to the edge of the table. 

Silently, he fists his cock before guiding it back into your pussy. You’re so wet, it’s obscene. Your sex is swollen and sensitive and he jams himself all the way until he can’t go further. You’re all loose and slack, a doll without its strings. But Joel maneuvers you until he can fit himself.

“Good girl.” You think he says. You don’t know-can barely hear shit, but the sound of him working his cock into you. He rocks his hips in short snaps until your body once more accommodates him. 

He touches your cheek. “Don’t fade out, honey. We’re not done.”

He shoves your knees against your chest, effectively bending you in half. Immediately, he tilts his pelvis, fucks up into you, which makes the head of his beautiful dick bump against your cervix. You wince, bite the inside of your mouth, before you open your eyes and find his - dark and bold as pitch black night. They pierce your face, demanding your attention. His lips curl before he lowers his gaze to where you’re joined. You follow, mesmerized by the silver of his belt buckle clacking against the table, the shiny hairs at his groin and how slick his shaft is as he repeatedly shoves it inside you before ripping it back. 

He lowers his mouth to your breast and proceeds to sink his teeth into your chest. He claims the place Luke used to kiss-to love. Joel bites the skin above your heart before soothing it with his tongue. You shiver, throwing your arms around his neck to keep him closer. 

“I love it,” you praise him, breath warm in his ear. “I love it.”

You’re on fire-thrumming like a thousand-volt plug, but you can’t move an inch. You can only allow him to take you, dragging you like a violent tide and hope he’ll bring you to shore. 

[thornbutch]

One Night Only (Pt. 2) (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡ | pics r not mine.

Part One | Part Two

Pairings: Jordan Li x Fem!Reader, (brief) Andre Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Past experiences have wrecked Jordan’s perception of their true feelings. The pretty girl from a week ago isn’t making their situation any better. Cue angst and car sex.

Tags: Jordan Li x fem!reader, Gen V, Jordan Li is a toxic, jealous, sexy piece of shit, cursing, angst, sensitive reader, sapphic make out sesh, Corruption kink, smut, mature content, Jordan might be a little OOC? Sorry. I wrote this in two hours.

Word Count: 2.7k

Jordan Li was probably the most confusing human being she had ever encountered. Ever since that night, he had been ignoring her. She’d see him in the courtyard at lunch, wave, and be disappointed when he didn’t wave back. She knew he saw her. What was his problem?

A week went by since the night she entangled with Jordan. She had finally come to terms with the fact that Jordan didn’t see her as anything but a one-night stand. She couldn’t explain why she felt so hurt by this. Maybe Jordan regretted what happened. Or maybe she was some kind of revenge hook-up? She had dealt with that before; her body being used to make someone else jealous. But that didn’t seem like a thing Jordan would do. On the other hand, she didn’t know Jordan much. She knew he was number five on the list. She knew that he had been Dr. Brink’s TA, but other that, his story was a mystery to her.

The next time she saw him, she was determined to get his attention. She didn’t care if she embarrassed him. How dare he treat her like trash? He owed her an explanation. If she had did something wrong, she’d like to know. If he wished he could forget that night, she had a right to know. She doesn’t know why it bothered her so much, but it did. He didn’t have to fuck her again, but he could’ve at least waved or said hello when he saw her in public.

She had gotten information from Maverick, the dorm’s resident assistant. She demanded to know where Jordan’s room was in the sweetest way. She fluttered her eyelashes and put her hands together in a praying form, begging him over and over to tell her until he finally did.

“God, you freshman are so fucking annoying! Can’t a guy jerk off in peace?” She didn’t have time to wonder if he was jerking off in that moment, due to his invisibility. She’d question him again later on that, because ew.

She made her way to Jordan’s room, knocking on the door once, twice, three times.

“Coming!” She heard a feminine voice shout from behind the door.

Had she arrived at the wrong room? No, Mark was adamant on the floor level and room number.

Plus, she recognized that smell of hefty cologne from the night Jordan fucked her senseless.

So who was-

Oh. She had approximately five seconds to walk, no sprint, away from this situation. She could’ve made it behind a wall or scurried off into a communal bathroom. She had time.

But she stood there, dumbfounded and hurt.

The girl from the other side opened the door, “Can I-“

She stood there.

Her doe eyes brimmed with tears. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? She didn’t own Jordan. She wasn’t his girlfriend. He made it very clear that he didn’t want to be with her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Wrong door.”

Before the girl had anything to say, she was running down the hallway and exiting the building.

. . .

That was all it took for her to move on. Now, she was back to her normal self. Fuck Jordan Li, and fuck whoever that girl was at the door.

She was undoubtedly pretty, but also handsome at the same time. She kind-of looked like Jordan a bit, but she highly doubted it was a relative. Some guys were into shit like that, fucking the “girl” versions of themselves.

Ick.

She was tired of parties. They were fun, sure. It was nice to get out and get drunk and fuck here and there, but she needed an escape from that environment. She opted to go to a bar instead, one of the local ones near campus that served as a hot spot for the students.

She put on a black, tubed dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. She chose one of her favorite leather jackets to match with it and similar-looking black leather boots that came up just below her knee. It was different than what she’d normally wear. The white dresses, jean skirts, and pink accents made her look cute, but it seemed like people took advantage of that. They thought she was naïve and not aware of their schemes.

She was smart, that much was evident. As pretty as she was, she was also sexy, and she’d be damned if she didn’t own that shit.

The bar was far quieter than the frat parties, but still loud nonetheless. Supes and normals mingled here. One thing they both had in common was their love for alcohol. It seemed to bring them together and offer peace against outside situations.

The moment came when she was asked if someone could buy her a drink. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair and deep black eyes. He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that.

“I’m a freshman,” she stated. The man laughed.

“You say that like I’m old,” he said as he bought himself a drink, “I’m only a junior.”

She smiled, knowing that he was in her age range and a fellow student calmed her. “I’m (Y/n).”

He took a sip from his glass, “Andre,” he replied, “You have a coin on you?”

She nodded, reaching into her black velvet purse to retrieve a quarter. She handed it to him, and he examined it thoroughly.

“Look,” he held the quarter between his forefinger and thumb, “If I could make this-“ she watched as the quarter transformed before her eyes, the metal twisting and bending to create the shape of a bird, “into her drink-“ he looked over at a woman sitting down, holding a champagne glass in her hand, “then you have to come home with me.”

“Oh, I have to?” She smirked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged and grinned back, “Just enforce them.”

Before she could reply, she felt a familiar presence loom over her. She turned around, met with a firm chest and a heavy scent.

Jordan.

“She’s not into your lame ass party tricks, Andre,” Jordan said.

Andre scoffed, blistering a false offended look on his face, “Lame? C’mon, Jordan, don’t be like that.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, “She’s not interested, got it?”

Andre rolled his eyes as well, his fists bawled up and the once floating medal bird turned into a dense ball, “It’s 2023. Women can speak for themselves.”

“Right,” Jordan looked down at you, finally including you in on the conversation that he interrupted, “Are you interested?”

She was taken aback by the question. She sputtered a little, swapping glances between Andre and Jordan. Whatever this was, she did not want to be apart of it. Fuck Jordan for ruining this.

“No.” She said. Andre held his hands up in defeat, grabbed his drink, and walked away from the bar and into the crowd. She turned back to Jordan then and stood up. “Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said.

She pushed him then. “No, fuck you. Fuck you for being an asshole to me all this week and then popping up to ruin-“

“Ruin what, exactly? Where you going to go home with him, huh? Fuck him, too? Let him see you the way I saw you?”

“Excuse me?” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it. His grip was tight and bruising. A few bystanders gathered around them.

“Let’s go to my car.” Jordan tugged her towards the exit. She barely had time to register what was going on before she felt the cold breeze of the night air swift through her nostrils and blow on her exposed skin.

He opened the passenger door for her. A gentleman. What kind of gentleman would dare to ask to her that way? Just who did he think he was? Her fucking boyfriend?

She got in, and he slammed the door closed. She stared out the window as he felt the car dip a little with the weight of Jordan getting in on the driver’s side.

The car was silent.

“Are we playing the quiet game or something?” .

She nodded.

He sighed, “Look, you have every right to hate me-“

“I do.”

“-but I need to explain something to you.”

She could feel her anger bubbling up. Her knees bounced against the car floor. She continued to stare out the window. “Explain.”

“The girl you saw, she was-“

Oh, not this lousy and overused excused. He really thought she was dumb. It wasn’t just something she had made up in her mind. This was evidence.

She turned, tears just about to spill past her eyelids, “Your sister? Your cousin? Your best friend?” She scoffed, “You think I’m stupid. You ignore me for a week, a week, Jordan. Then you decide you can whisk me away like you’re some kind of Prince Charming?”

“That’s not-“

“You embarrass me in front a cute guy because what? You’re jealous? You don’t like to see your one-night stand hooking up with other people but don’t mind not bothering to wave back when she waves at you?”

“(Y/n)-“

“But maybe I am stupid. You asked if I was interested, and I said no. You opened the door for me, and I got in. You folded my panties and tucked me in and left and treated me like I didn’t exist.”

Jordan watched intently as she spewed all the horrible shit they had done to her. They didn’t think it would affect her so much. They’d hate to be ignored, too, but they’d get over it. They could tell she convinced herself she was over them, over the entire situation. If she was moved on, she wouldn’t have turned down Andre’s offer, and she wouldn’t have entered their vehicle.

“-and now you’re not fucking listening, great.” She folded her arms and dramatically laid back against the seat. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her makeup was ruined. Black streaks of mascara coated the skin.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “You’re right. Not about the stupid thing, the fucked up thing. It was wrong of me to ignore you, I just…” Jordan breathed in shakily. This was so out of character for them. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

She turned towards the window again, staring at her own reflection.

“And… the girl you saw wasn’t my sister, cousin, or best friend,” They could feel their chest tightening, “She was me.”

She watched in the reflection as Jordan morphed into the girl she had seen earlier. She turned back sharply, completely in shock at what she just witnessed.

“You-“

“Yeah. I’m bigender, or whatever the fuck,” Jordan sighed. They felt vulnerable in this form. They tucked a strand of their longer black hair behind their ear and looked beyond the front windshield, “I didn’t want you thinking that I-“

“That you’re into women who look like you?” She responded.

“Yes,” Jordan snorted, “But I was going to say that I wasn’t using you. Or- I didn’t use you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Do you normally fuck girls and abandon them?”

“I normally don’t get jealous when I see someone else flirting with them,” they looked at her then, “I didn’t like what I saw. When he flirted with you using his medal-bending ability. It was corny.”

She let out a small laugh, wiping away her tears, “It was kind of corny.”

Jordan nodded, “I was… afraid. I’m not used to feeling like this, but I am used to it at the same time. Girls, they fuck me in my masculine form and want nothing to do with me in my feminine form. Guys are vice versa.”

She listened to every word coming from their mouth.

“I guess I’ve grown accustomed to blocking people out without asking if they’d accept both versions of me.”

The car was quiet once more.

“Accustomed,” she whispered, “that’s a big word.”

Jordan rolled their eyes.

“I don’t mind,” she was no longer looking at them, instead focusing on her hands that she held in her lap, “I wouldn’t have judged you. I’m not judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“I think you’re the most handsomest and prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” she said.

They could feel their ears tint with red.

“I understand why you were nervous, but I wish you would’ve talked to me before doing all of this,”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know,” she faced them, bringing her hands to cup their soft jawline, “I forgive you.”

Their lips met with hers, but not like how they did at the frat party. This time was more passionate, sweeter, and less rough. She broke the kiss to climb over the armrest and straddle them. Jordan leaned the chair back as far as it would go to give her enough room to sit on their lap. She took off her leather jacket. Their hands held onto her waist, keeping her in place. She liked being on top and knowing that she had no control. They liked being underneath her and knowing that they were still the dominant one.

They began to kiss each other harder. More hunger. They craved her. She must’ve worn this black outfit in retaliation. She looked pretty in white. She looked pretty in black. She looked pretty naked. She was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen, and now they had her right where they wanted her.

She had been hogging their memory ever since that night. They’d slip their hands into their pants during late hours of the night, fondling their clit and breathing her name in heavy gasps as they imagined her touching them. They pinched their nipples, imagining her biting them. They wanted to see her between their thighs, eating them out with her back arched and her eyes closed because she was so into it.

“Am I doing good?” They imagined she would say.

They’d tell her she was doing amazing as they fucked their pussy onto her face.

They’d have to take a late-night shower, having soaked their boxers in their secretion. Their shirt would stick to their back from how hot they were and how much they were sweating during a simple masturbation session.

They wondered if she touched herself. Maybe she was so pent up with frustration that she couldn’t help but fuck it out of herself. She’d use two fingers right off the bat. Her legs would be spread open, and her clothes discarded into a heap at the edge of her bed.

“Jordan,” she’d moan.

“Jordan,” she moaned.

They were brought back to the present, pulling away from her lips. Both of their chests rise and fell with great intensity. They bought their hand up to her face, placing their thumb on her lip and parting them. She opened willingly, allowing their thumb to enter her wet cavern.

She sucked feverishly, all while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck,” Jordan cursed. They could feel how wet they were in their stiff jeans.

She pulled their thumb out of her mouth with a barely audible pop!

“I want to touch you,” she said.

Yes, yes, please, yes.

She pulled up their shirt, revealing a flat stomach that had the shadows of their abs present. They didn’t wear a bra. She was very understanding of that, too. It’d be extremely uncomfortable for them to shift and feel the hard clasps of the bra digging into their back.

She cupped their breast tenderly, swiping her thumb over the nipple. Jordan couldn’t tell if she’d been with women before. Was she an expert? Or was she just doing what she did when she touched herself?

She pinched and they shifted unexpectedly. She leaned back, her ass hitting the steering wheel and blaring the horn.

It was quiet for the third time.

They apologized for startling her. She told them it was okay.

Then, she busted out laughing, falling onto them. They laughed, too.

“I guess that’s a sign,” she said.

“A sign for what?”

“To take me back to your place.”

She didn’t have to say anything else.

[firemenenthusiast]

—“to love”

farleigh start x reader

summary: asking farleigh to let you go if loving you isn’t worth it

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing, fluff

a/n: i couldn’t decide between angst and fluff and i haven’t posted fluff for a while so yall getting BOTH. also sorry if this is kinda boring and cheesy and dramatic (me fr) 😞✌🏻

the sound of water drops drumming against the window fills your ear, tapping away at each droplets of the pouring rain, taking you away from the realisation that it’s been raining since the sun slipped off the horizon. it must be cold outside, you imagine, with the loud heavy rain and thunders.

must be the complete contrast of how warm it is inside, especially the room you and farleigh share in this mansion given that you always kept the temperature toasty. farleigh always fussed about it too, saying that it’s too warm for him and insisted that if you’re gonna keep it that way, he’s gonna have to be shirtless in the room. wiping away another stray tear rolling down your right cheek, your lips curl in a quiver as you shut your eyes.

it’s almost hysterical how even in a space that warm and cozy, having yourself all wrapped up in his blanket and sitting by the window, you still feel all alone. you don’t get it. you have all these people around you, well, all the people downstairs partying away because it’s felix’s early Christmas party yet you still feeling left behind.

farleigh’s downstairs too, you believe he’s doing all the things he usually does when he’s in the party mood. maybe by now he’s already had too much to drink for, or he’s plopped down against the couch and counting the stars dancing around at the ceiling.

normally you would be snuggling by his side, holding his firm arm close to your body so some of his warmth could radiate against your skin, but it’s been months since you and farleigh had that kind of time together. now, it’s just routine quick kisses on the top of your head, before he’s out again to catch a smoke by the courtyard and disappearing all day long, even with you in the house.

feeling all the pent up confusion, mellow and slight anger settling down, you can’t help the small hiccups escaping your lips as your shoulders jerk at every sob. you can hear the muffled music from downstairs, and sounds of people cheering for whatever reason you could easily guess at. they’re typical, you would say, but what’s not typical is the distance you feel with farleigh, and how his behaviour as of late makes you feel worthless, and that the spark you felt when you first started dating has gone into a mere strike.

you know you should’ve just told him how you’re feeling. you know you could’ve just said that you hate the way he doesn’t kiss you anymore. you miss the feeling of his lips against yours, his soft ones cradling your lips that is enough to make you melt into the moment because farleigh is such a good kisser. you know how they say to communicate, but you wish it was that fucking easy.

because you hate having to beg for affection. you hate having to tell someone to love you, you hate having to teach someone that you desperately love to no end, how to love you properly. if you were really worth it, you wouldn’t have to do all that, would you ? if farleigh really loved you like you love him, he wouldn’t make you feel like this, all disregarded and unimportant. truth is, you almost made yourself believe that the relationship is a dead end, and that he’s gonna break the news to you anytime now. what’s the point anyways ? it’s not like he cares, does he ? he certainly didn’t when he left you feeling the worst after getting back your test marks and it was so awful that you cried. all he said was, and you quote, “just a test” before leaving you to go tanning with felix when he knew you studied all night long for weeks. he knew, because he was there, watching you flip through your notes desperately.

as you sit looking out through the window, your eyes trailing the fragile looking droplets of rainfall down the pane, drinking in your sobs that were frantic a few moments ago. you’ve spent the past couple of months just smiling away and comforting yourself that maybe he was just tired, and that he wasn’t feeling like wrapping his arms around you when you needed him the most. yet deep down, you know that it wasn’t supposed to be like that. he shouldn’t get to pick and choose just whenever the fuck he feels like having a relationship.

at this point you’ve made yourself believe that farleigh only keeps you around for the sake of having a girlfriend. you don’t think he wants to be a boyfriend alongside of that, nor he cares that he’s made you feel worthless with the fact that he hasn’t kissed you on the lips for weeks now. not sure if he even realises that, having made himself busy with all the cigarette breaks and hanging out with the group. sometimes you think that he goes on all that cigarette breaks just to get away from you. it’s funny because it’s not like you couldn’t stand the smoke, if anything you don’t care if he does it around you at all, as long as you get to be with him.

leaning deeper into the farleigh-scented blanket, the fuzzy material hugs you nicely making you feel a little comforted. you could hear the knob turning before the creaking of the old hinge of the door screeches your ear. quickly wiping the tears almost dripping off your chin, you suck in a shaky breath, bumpy from the sobs and the huge lump in your throat.

“hey babe, i didn’t see you downstairs. how long have you been here ?”

of course he didn’t even realise that you were never downstairs. eventually you get sick of the annoying music and lingering smell of alcohol on everyone. you hated how reckless everyone would be, just bumping against each other that sometimes someone gets pushed to the ground. you know because last time it had happened to you, and farleigh was nowhere to be found. he was probably doing a line at the corner of the room with his other friends but hey, at least he’s not cheating right ?

blinking away your tears, you could feel your eyes are already puffy from how much you were crying. the sniffles caught his attention, halting his movements on taking off his santa hat as he settles it down on the nightstand before carefully walking towards you.

“hey— hey, what’s wrong ?”

the huge flat of his palm finds its way against your back, slowly caressing the skin through your sweatshirt as he struggles to meet your eyes.

“baby,, c’mon—look at me, hey”

his deep voice soft, but nothing’s new as farleigh had never raised his voice at you, or yelled at you. he was always so sweet when talking to you, so when he started becoming so distant, of course you’d feel it.

slowly pulling your body into his embrace, his arms wrapping around your shoulder as you lean your head against his chest. the warmth radiating off his skin spreads across your body as the both of you just sit there, sheltering against each other’s body, seeking comfort and reassurance.

“what’s wrong ?” he’d ask for the second time, holding your jaw in his hands with his fingers cupped along your cheeks. his thumb caresses the soft skin of your tear stained cheeks before looking deep into your eyes, his beautiful brown hues piercing into your orbs.

you’re still silent, knowing that if you were to tell him all the doubts in your heart that you have of him, you’d just burst into tears again. instead, you just give him your biggest smile, praying that it doesn’t look so forced and that you’re about to cry again in his arms.

farleigh can’t help his own smile at seeing your cute face squished into his large hands, though it pains him seeing you like this. it physically pains him looking at you so broken, the puffiness of your eyes tells him that you’ve been crying a lot, yet he knows nothing of it, or the reason why. when he asks you again, coaxing an answer from you, you’d just shake your head.

“you know you can tell me anything, you’re my girlfriend” he coaxes, smoothing his palms down your hair, cradling your whole head in his hands

hearing the title he just called you jerks a new stream of tears down your cheeks almost immediately, as you shut your eyes and softly sob into his hands. seeing your reaction worries him, making him desperately pull you closer into his arms, trying to shield you from anything that may be fear in your eyes, and just protect you from being hurt, ever.

“just say it, farleigh” you manage to sob out, quirking his eyebrows into visible confusion.

“say ? say what ?” pulling away slightly to look at your face, your eyes busy counting the stray threads poking out the blanket

“— that you don’t love me anymore” letting out the words softly, you realise that you sounded so insecure and it’s just going to make him mad. but you know what you’ve been feeling, and it’s not you being insecure.

farleigh couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth as they leave him speechless. slowly pulling his arms away from you, he looks at you to try to find an explanation.

“what the fu— what are you talking about ?” it was ridiculous, what you just said. he hopes that there’s a better explanation for it seeing that your lips are quivering and you’re looking at him with knitted brows.

“all the cigarette breaks, leaving me in the middle of the night to go sleep on the couch, hanging out with felix all the time when im literally right in front of you, do you think im stupid—?“

“what— he’s my cousin !” he retaliates, thick eyebrows furrowed at your reasoning, thinking that it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“and im your girlfriend, farleigh. i don’t even wanna talk about how i was never downstairs tonight and you didn’t care enough to even realise !”

“you’re being absurd, there was a shitload of people” he’s leaning back against his heels, moving further from you as he looks at you in disbelief.

“i guess you don’t even care that we haven’t kissed in weeks”

your last words leaves him dumbfounded, having realised that he hasn’t felt the soft lips he’s so obsessed with on his for weeks now. it started for a couple of days when he was busy and overall just dealing with his own mental issues but only now had he realised that it’s been weeks. taking a few steps back, he’s now fully on his feet, with his arms crossed before moving a hand to rest on his jaw.

“you don’t have to love me if you don’t want to, farleigh” you mutter out softly, the volume only enough to register in his ears

you hear him scoff at the words as you turn to look at him, pacing around at the edge of the bed before snapping his head towards you

“i can’t believe this” you hear him mutter under his breath before tilting his head towards you

“you know, i try— sooo fucking hard to love you-“ he cocks his head to the side, eyes squinting in your direction. if you want to argue on the love in this relationship, he’s been meaning to fight back.

“i care so deeply about you, i pushed away my own issues, i struggle with my own being, those voices in my head—“ you’re looking at him, your whole body tense as you blink away the tears clinging onto your lashes

“all just so i can be with you, all so i can keep you safe with me, even if it means that im fucked up in the head—“

“farleigh—“

“i don’t know how do you want me to love you, because the only love i’ve ever felt was from my mom. even that they take away from me—“

“so i try, so fucking hard to love you, as best as i could. so for you to imply that it’s not enough—“ he scoffs once again, a pained laugh threatens to blow out of his mouth. looking up at him, his face contorts in what you could make out to be disappointment. or even disgust, with the way his lips bend into a frown. scanning your eyes across his sharp features, you wished you could take it all back so you wouldn’t have to see him looking at you like that. it isn’t hatred, or is it ? but you’d imagine how you’re pushing him through his limits.

“— that’s just fucking selfish. i don’t know what else do you want from me”

just as you’re about to open your mouth to say something, a loud thunder booms through the clouds, tearing the peace from the whole estate. the eardrums shattering sound horrifies the fear you have of thunder that you can’t help the scream piercing out of your mouth. you’re clutching tight at the material of the blanket, your head throbbing from the loud noise of the following rumbles from outside, the flashing of lightning accompanying the thunder that almost rips your heart of your chest, if it wasn’t already being ripped out by your cries.

immediately as he sees the flashing light before the thunder, like a natural reflex farleigh practically throws himself over to quickly wrap his arms around you and pull you into him. he knows how bad thunder fucks with your nerves and how much you hated being alone when there’s thunders outside. rubbing his hand against your arms, smoothing over your sweater, you hear him hush softly on top of your head as he pulls you closer to his chest by the side of your head.

he rests his chin against your hair while he gazes through the window. amidst all the chaos of the loud booming noises and car alarms going off outside, you found yourself fisting at his knitted sweater, clutching your fingers, in an attempt to be as close to him as possible, to feel safe. after all farleigh’s still your safe place. it’s not like you ever want to seek home in anybody else.

“im sorry” just as you hear him say these words you softly push him away to tilt your head towards his face. all those things he said, makes you feel like a shitty person. maybe you’re the one who didn’t care enough to see what he’s going through. maybe he’s right, you are selfish.

“why, um-“ you begin with a coarse voice, the lump in your throat still clinging onto the walls before you clear it

“why didn’t you say anything ?—“ moving your head to follow his eyes, the glossy brown pair struggling to look into yours.

“—do i not listen to you ever, farleigh ?” you struggle to find the right question for him, having no understanding for why he feels like he couldn’t say anything and instead, just left you hanging all these while.

he’s silent, eyebrows knitted as he looks up at you with a tear rolling down his cheek. the corners of his eyes red, he’s been struggling not to cry since you brought up the issue.

a shallow regret claws at the walls of your insides when you look at him, with tears down his pretty face. moving to sit on your heels, you peel the blanket off your shoulders to pull him into the warmth, both of you sitting underneath the fuzzy material

“im sorry“ the only same words he manages to let out, again

“farleigh i should’ve-“ just as you open your mouth he cuts you off

“no—”

“—im sorry that you feel like i don’t love you anymore” it’s only when he says this does he look into your eyes, his hands moving over your face to move the strands covering your eyes away.

“because i love you, so fucking much—“ farleigh inches over, hovering his forehead over yours that the tip of your noses bump into each other. you can feel his hot breath fanning against your skin, as he smooths his thumbs over your jaw, catching the stray tear falling over your waterline.

“all those stuff you said,, fuck i didn’t know it was fucked up—“

“im sorry i made you feel like that. i didn’t wanna drag you along with me. i didn’t wanna make you feel unsafe” his words pain you, knowing that he kept everything that was wrong to himself. somehow it angers you, the fact that he feels like he couldn’t come to you. does he think that you were gonna leave him if he did ?

“you know you can tell me anything, farleigh—“

“i know, i just,,” as he searches for words, a hiccup makes his shoulders jerk.

“i was afraid that-“ trailing his words off his lips, he tilts his head to suck in a deep breath, his shoulders shaky as you search into his tear stained face. you offer him the softest look you could give, letting him know that if you’re gonna be here until the sun comes up just talking, so be it.

“i didn’t want you to leave— i thought,, i thought if i ever said anything, you’d think im weak” his lips quiver as he utter the last of his words before a single tear spills over down his cheek. his hand reaches up to wipe over his nose, his slender fingers almost covering the entirety of his face.

you know how bad farleigh struggles with the way the cattons treat him, and how they always disregard it all if he even dare to bring it up. everyone seems to think they’re this untouchable perfectly wealthy family but you know how small farleigh feels sitting among them. if anyone spends as much time around them and farleigh, they’d also see how they’re treating him like an outsider while desperately trying to make him feel like family. but you didn’t know it was getting to him this badly. you didn’t know it fucks with him to the point that ut gets this bad. you could just imagine how hard he tried to conceal his own insecurities while having you around, trying to make you believe that everything was fine.

“i thought if i just kept quiet you wouldn’t notice” farleigh pushed his words out from the strings of sobs restraining him to speak as he finally breaks down from all the blocks of boulder that keeps being dropped on him, weighing him down

“im sorry—” now it’s your turn to say these two words to him, pulling him down towards you into a hug, your fingers sprawled out across his back, letting him rest his head in the crook of your neck as he cries.

“—im sorry that im too selfish to notice” you cant help but sob out into his shoulder, your hands pulling at the fabric on his back. he’s crummed up into you, as the both of you just sat there by the window, listening to the sounds of water droplets tapping at the glass.

as he pulls away, he moves so he could look into your eyes, your fingers cupping his jaw as it’s your turn to wipe his cheeks with your thumbs. trailing your eyes over each of his features, taking in every details on his face, from his long lashes to his tiny freckles. closing in the mere inches in between you, you place your lips against his delicately, kissing at his bottom lips. farleigh closes his eyes as he returns the kiss, soft and gentle, as you slowly move in a rhythm. it’s been so long since he last kissed you, and he’d only realise how much he misses sharing your warmths in a kiss, how much he misses just kissing away all the doubts you have deep within.

when you slowly pull away you feel his hands gripping on your waist as he moves forward to catch your lips again, into another kiss. he feels like it wasn’t enough for him, he wanted to stay like this forever if he could. caressing his jaw, you lean back into the kiss as you hear him hum and continue to move his lips against yours as if he never stopped kissing you since your first kiss.

pushing him away by his chest, you had to take a breath as soft giggles leave your lips looking at his swollen ones. both from crying, and also kissing you like he hasn’t for years. he can’t help but let out a few chuckles too, your pained smile radiates warmth off his heart, melting it all over again.

“teach me how to love you properly” he starts, pulling at the blanket to peel it off of him and placing it around you again.

knowing that farleigh barely ever felt love from his own family, let alone be shown how it actually is to be loved, it’s only logical that the things he did for you, and the love he showed you, was the only thing he knew of love. and to compare to the scraps he receives in this house, the love that farleigh has ever showed you was everything in this world for him, and probably beyond the kind of love he could ever imagined.

“i will”

you promise, as you’re willing to fix this over and over again knowing that you’d also be fixing him, who’s been broken since the day he was born. if anyone else leaves when the only thing he seeks for is love, let you be his shelter.

taglist: @flipsconhelado @r4vn @love-me-pls @radioloom @farleighlover @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @luckystrikerealness @juniperhasfallen @themoonchildwhofell @khxna @inglourious-imagines @aracade

[alphajocklover]

You have to help me! I've been trying to get free of this... place for a long LONG time. After some time I've been able to gain back some free will, but it's really hard. Right now, as my "physicall" me picked his phone at the gym between reps, I've been able to log on here and I saw what you published about the Retsam Mirror. You have to help me. I've been stuck in it for years. I was a nerd when i first fell by accident on the mirror and i got sucked in. I can't do this anymore. The new me is a honry bastard and he spends his time getting fucked in front of mirrors, a lot and a lot of them. My reflections are exponentials and i feel every single one of them. Oh fuck he just got a notification from HungDomTop11in. Help m................

A Retsam mirror. You found a Retsam mirror. Another Retsam mirror. For those of you who didn’t see my earlier post, a Retsam mirror is an incredibly rare magical artifact that lets a person switch places with their reflection, which essentially traps the person in their reflection and leaves a very suggestable copy in their place. It was weird enough to hear that one guy had encountered one of those that hadn’t already been shattered, but if what you’re telling me is true… then whoever trapped that poor guy has been trapping people in mirrors for much longer than we thought. I can only guess, and hope, that you were one of his earliest victims. I know you said you fell in but… if that was true then your other self wouldn’t have acted any differently than you. Someone had to have pushed you in, and then used your reflections malleable state to change them. I have to say, as horrified as I am by all of this… I’m also kind of impressed. Not with the jerk who's been trapping people, but with you. It takes a lot of willpower to keep your mind intact while in a reflection. Most people lose themselves in it, not having the ability to choose their movements but still feeling everything. Yet what’s even more impressive is the fact you were actually able to take back control for a bit. From what I’ve heard, that's supposed to be impossible. For you to do that… It's truly incredible. I’m just sorry that it might not be able to help save you.  As far as I know, there isn’t a way to get out of a Retsam mirror, at least not on your own. Either your reflection would have to willingly swap back, which seems unlikely, or the guy who pushed you in would have to switch you again, which seems even less likely. I’ve been looking into ways to help get people out of Retsam mirrors since I first heard they were back, but I haven’t found much yet. So I’m afraid that, for the time being, you’re stuck there.

Don’t give up hope though! You’ve managed to do more than anyone else in your position has. Not to mention, the information you’ve given me may be invaluable to figuring out how to save and protect people from Retsam mirrors. I’ve been messing with a spell that might allow me to use my own Retsam mirror to help people stuck in reflections, or at least communicate with them, so there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I know this entire situation is horrible, but the reporter in me has to admit it’s kind of fascinating. It’s incredibly rare you get to talk to someone who's been inside a reflection, so I had no idea you could feel what was happening inside each and every reflection, even if you were reflected in multiple mirrors at once. That must be very overwhelming, especially if your other self is hooking up in front of mirrors. Feeling yourself get fucked by a a potentionally infinite amount of cocks all at once… As hot as that sounds it must be really intense.

Here's just hoping your other self doesn’t take advantage of it too much. 

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

You can watch but you can’t touch

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader 

WARNINGS: smut || 18+ only MDNI || voyeurism || reader is being cucked?? kind of?

A/N: Take any and all complaints to @miyabilicious who is responsible for this whole thing

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

____

If you were being completely fair, they had told you not to touch yourself.  It was a simple instruction to follow, and again, to be fair, they had warned you of the consequences.

But you were…well.  Impatient, for one.  Insubordinate, maybe?  But mostly, you were just curious.

They're beautiful, the two men in front of you.  

Beautiful in how their bodies twist and contort in graceful motion around the other.  Beautiful in their pleasure, even while they continue to deprive you of yours.  And Ghost?  God.  

Ghost looks almost ethereal to you right now, a face that’s clearly forgotten how to regulate its emotions, and so he wears his anger in his dark eyes and in the pink on the high points of his cheek and his jaw that’s strained and his mouth sealed tightly shut.  All the while, he watches your fingers move shamelessly, without abandon against your skin in direct defiance of his instructions.  

You can tell that he isn’t used to disobedience.  After all, who would dare to defy Ghost?

Except you, that is.    

So when he ties your hands behind your back and makes you kneel on the bed beside them, pushing you down so you’re sitting on your haunches, you figure you had it coming.  You’re still wet and achy and it almost hurts from how badly you want to come—you were so close when Ghost’s eyes had snapped to yours, attention drawn by your whining and whimpering—but you can’t get yourself off now, can you?  You’re completely at his mercy now, just how he prefers.

And if you thought Ghost would reward your good behaviour—you hadn’t struggled or squirmed against him in the slightest, you were trying to be good—you were mistaken.  He ties you up (military efficiency in his movements) and uses a finger to tilt your chin up so you’re looking at him.  But your attention is briefly diverted as you watch Johnny lying in Ghost’s bed—one arm tucked behind his neck, one hand moving leisurely over his cock, stroking himself like he has no care in the world, smirking at you.  Your eyes narrow at him slightly, and Ghost uses the opportunity to jerk your chin back so you’re looking at him again.  

“Be good.”  

You nod at him, your mind cleared of all thoughts that aren’t the two of them.

“Stay,” Ghost insists, and there’s little else for your brain to do but melt through your ears at his tone.       

When he turns back to Johnny, his spine straightens and it makes Johnny’s smirk widen.  “You,” Ghost murmurs.  “Come ‘ere.”

You watch as Johnny sits up, crawling to the edge of the bed to come to Ghost.  They don’t say anything to each other, just…look at each other.  It’s weird as fuck, and you’re about to say something, anything, to break the awkward silence before you stop yourself at the last moment.  It’s only weird to you, you realise.  It’s only awkward, for you.  They two seem to be communicating with the way they look at each other, and the more you look at them, the more you find yourself drawn into their strange spell.

“What do you need, Ghost?” Johnny whispers.  

You watch in fascination as your usually stoic CO extends his hand, and unusually ginger fingers wrap around Johnny’s chin.  He brings his face up to his own and they kiss.  It goes on and on, and Ghost’s hands find themselves wandering over as much of Johnny as they can reach.  You feel like a voyeur as you watch them kiss.  It feels more intense than you’re used to seeing, and you’re not quite sure what you should do with yourself.

You settle for just watching these beautiful men in front of you.             

Ghost’s hand moves over Johnny’s skin, over the soft, downy hair on his chest, down his abs, down his stomach.  When it reaches his cock, Johnny moans into their kiss, and his hips jerk upwards, leaning into the contact.  Ghost doesn’t seem to mind, deepening the kiss, and you can see how out of breath they both seem to get.      

When Johnny finally pulls away, it’s only to whine as Ghost’s grip on his cock tightens.  He doesn’t stroke him, no, he only grips him, and it’s enough to make Johnny’s entire frame vibrate with unbridled, unchecked need.  In a way, you like how you’re not the only one to be denied, though in all fairness, you’re the only one who broke the rules.     

It’s agony for you to watch but do absolutely nothing.  You try to shift a little, relieve the pressure between your legs by using the heel of your leg, but freeze when Ghost lifts a finger and points it at you in warning without breaking his kiss.  Shit. 

You stop wriggling. You'll get yours, you tell yourself. Your time will come too.

But then you watch your CO go down on his knees for Johnny, and you watch Johnny's eyes widen and his stare turn glassy, and all thoughts about your pleasure fly straight out the window.