#second of all i'm thinking he's being dragged back to work but he doesn't really want to go

[sweetcalebb]

Teaching Caleb how to touch you !

wc: 2k

a/n: this was another request!! you know who you are <3 this might've dragged a bit. sorry. ALSO, i promise i'm working on all your requests! i have 45 and i'm working as fast as i can 🙏. but i hope this was okayy

content: inexperienced caleb, it's his first time time touching you, he's super nerviee, like really nervous, titty sucking, fingering, dry humping, soft sub caleb

––

You’ve never seen him this shy—cheeks pink, fingers hesitantly tracing your body as he kisses you.

You smile against his lips when—finally, after a few long, breathless minutes of kissing—you feel one of his hands close around your waist. "Are you nervous?"

Caleb lets out a soft breath. "Of course I am."

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes half-lidded and soft as he scans your face like he's trying to memorize what you look like in this moment.

"I've wanted you for so long," he murmurs, hand trembling. "I don't.. I don't want to mess anything up."

You immediately soften. You bring your hand up to his face and rub soothing circles over his cheek. "You won't mess it up."

He swallows hard, his eyes darting down because looking at you too long right now makes him sweat. "But I don't know what I'm doing," he says, quiet and raspy. Almost as if he had to force the words out of him.

"I can help you."

Caleb looks at you again, uncertain.

"I just... I want it—this—to be perfect. I don't want to let you down.."

Your chest squeezes.

He's always been too sweet.

You slowly lean down pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Anything with you is perfect, Caleb. I promise."

Caleb lets out a shaky breath. "Okay..." His other hand carefully finds your waist. "Is this okay?"

"Mhm."

His throat bobs painfully, his eyes darting down to watch his hands skim up your sides. And you just sit there. You don't rush or push. You just sit in his lap, watching the reverent look in his eyes.

Caleb pauses at the hem of your shirt and looks up again, his lips parting with a silent question.

You nod. "It's okay, Caleb."

Then slowly, he's slipping his hands underneath your shirt and running his hands up your stomach, edging toward the swell of your breasts but not quite touching them yet.

He shudders, almost instinctively digging his fingers into your ribcage. He doesn't mean to. He just can't help it. Years and years of pining after you and now he was finally touching you like this. It's hard not to be greedy. To not touch you everywhere—kiss everywhere.

"Can I go..." he pauses, exhaling shakily, "higher?"

"Yes."

Caleb slips his palms over your breast and his lips part on a quiet breath.

You fit into his hands so perfectly. For a second, he think his hands were meant for this and this alone. Holding you.

"You're so soft," Caleb awes, squeezing gently. Then, he swipes his thumbs over your pebbling nipples. "Pipsqueak..."

"Do you want to take my shirt off?" You swallow hard, your legs squeezing around his torso. Are you being too self-indulgent? You don't know. All you know is that this—teaching him, being the first girl he's ever touched—feels too good.

Caleb's breath hitches. "Do you want me to?"

When you nod, he shudders.

"Then yeah. I really.. I really wanna take your shirt off."

At his answer, you reach down and start pulling the fabric up. Caleb's hands slip away from your chest to help, trembling slightly.

When your shirt falls away, he can only stare.

"Fuck, you're so pretty.." He brings his hands back to your breast, squeezing once more.

He licks his lips, his eyes darting up to yours like a secret plea. "Can I... kiss you here?" His voice cracks with nerves.

"Yes," you breathe, your heart racing.

Then he leans forward, his lips brushing over your breast, so soft you barely feel it. "Does that feel okay?"

"You can put more pressure."

Caleb purses his lips against your chest in another kiss and you nod. "Yeah, just like that."

He continues, peppering your skin with little kisses before getting bolder, letting his tongue dart out between his lips to taste you and you arch into him, your hand twitching with the urge to tangle in his hair.

He kisses you through the fabric of your bra, the touch making your back tense.

Caleb looks up.

"Too much?"

You quickly shake your head. "No, no. That felt really nice." You hesitate for just a second before murmuring, "You can take off my bra, too."

"You sure?"

You bite your lip softly. "Yeah."

He reaches behind you, fumbling with your clip a few times before your straps slip off your shoulders before it's tossed to the side.

Caleb stares again, pupils blown wide, like he can't believe you're letting him see you like this. He dips his head down again, pressing a slow kiss directly against your nipple. "How's that?"

You sigh, slipping hands through his hair. "That feels good..."

Caleb hums before flicking his tongue against the achy nub and can't help the way your hips jerk against his at the touch.

He groans. "You really like that."

You can barely nod before he's wrapping his lips around your breast and sucking. You let out another staggered breath and hold him tight.

"Caleb..!"

Caleb whines at the sound of his name, his hips giving an instinctive roll. "'M'sorrry. I just... can't help it when you sound like that." he breathes against your skin.

But you shake your head. "It's fine. You're doing... really good!"

He rolls his hips up again. He really can't help it. Not when you're in his mouth and talking to him like that.

He keeps sucks and licking, sneaking in little nibbles that make you gasp and arch your back. And then he's switching breasts, making sure he gives the other one the same attention.

It's only when Caleb's jaw feels sore that he comes off with a soft pop, your chest littered and kisses and his saliva.

"You're... You're even better than I imagined," he huffs, leaning up to kiss your lips while running his hands down your thighs, then back up, stopping at your breasts again.

"Am I doing okay?"

"Yes, more than okay," you assure, your voice shakier than you expected it to be.

Caleb’s breath hitches. His thumbs skim under the waistband of your shorts, hesitating.

"Can I touch you here too?” he rasps, voice wrecked with nerves and want.

Your chest tightens. “Yes, Caleb.”

He nearly whimpers. “Show me how. Please."

You guide his hand down, your own hand over his. When his fingers press where you’re already wet, he groans softly, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “God, you feel so good…”

You bite your lip, trying to keep your hips still, but they grind into his hand anyway. "You.. hah.."

Caleb can't help it; he runs his fingers through your slick, his stomach clenching at warm it is. Was all this really for him?

"What do you need?" he breathes, putting a bit of pressure on your needy flesh. Not enough to push in, just enough to (accidentally) tease you. "Show me... how. Please.. I don't—I don't know—"

"Shh, it's okay. I'll show you," you whisper, guiding his hand over your sex. You lead two fingers to your clit and press firmly. "This is the spot right here."

Caleb shudders, his fingers nudging at you like he's trying to memorize what it feels like. "Yeah. Yeah, okay.."

Then, you start guiding him in slow circles. "A-and just rub... small circles, okay?"

Caleb nods, nervous, but eagerly taking over. He does exactly what you taught him, clumsy at first. But he gradually falls into a steady rhythm.

"Like this?"

"Yes..!" You grip his shoulder and tip your head back slightly. "Just like that, Caleb!"

Caleb moans in response, rubbing tighter, rougher circles.

Warmth blooms in your chest—makes everything feel fuzzy. If Caleb told you, right now, that this was his first time, you wouldn't believe him.

You whimper, the sound making him twitch in his jeans.

"Caleb! Please! Please, please..!"

He groans, bringing his free hand around your hip and tugging you closer as he continued working over.

Warmth pools between your legs, soaking through the fabric of your panties. Just when you start to feel that familiar pressure in your stomach, Caleb stops, his fingers sliding down to tease at your entrance.

"Hah..! Caleb?"

You look at him again, blinking through hazy eyes.

"I'm sorry," he instantly says, his chest heaving like your pleasure was his own. "I just wanted to see you like this a little more—I'm sorry—I can go back to—"

You shake your head. "No, that's really sweet." You take a moment to catch your breath before asking, "Do you want to feel inside?"

Caleb nods. "Yes. Yes, please."

"You can," you reply, your voice quiet.

Caleb glances down, watching his hand bulge from your panties as he carefully—very carefully—slides one finger past your tight ring of muscles.

"Hah! You—Oh God.. You're so warm, Pips," he gasps, slowly sinking his finger inch by inch, watching your reaction the whole time. When he's knuckle deep, he breathes out a shaky, "Are you okay?"

You nod, fighting the urge to start grinding down on his finger. "Mhmm.. It feels so good, Caleb."

He starts pumping slowly. Agonizingly slow. Like any faster might break you. But when he sees you squirming and holding back whines, he quickens his pace.

"You can add another."

Caleb doesn't hesitate. He slips another finger in with one, slick push. "Fuck."

That's all he can say. All he can muster.

And the sounds your body starts to make are filthy. Straight out of his fantasies. With a small, embarrassed sound you hide in the crook of his neck, your cheeks burning.

But Caleb whines, leaning his head against yours.

"Don't hide, Pips. Please... I wanna see you." His voice is trembling, like not getting to see what this does to you physically pains him.

So slowly, you lift your head back up and he looks completely wrecked. And you're right there with him—brows knit with pleasure, lips parted with your breathless moans.

He's panting now, your breath mingling with his as he gently rocks his hips up.

"Please. Go back—go back to my other spot. I—I need it. Need you."

Caleb groans. You need him.

"Okay."

He eases his fingers out of you, pressing them to the achy spot at the cleft of your sex again. "Fuck... Pips.. I don't.. I lost it."

"It's okay." You guide him to that spot again. "Right there. Right there please."

He starts rubbing firm circles again, using the same pace you taught him. "There?" He asks, voice wrecked.

"Yes! Yes!"

Caleb grunts, jostling you in his lap as his hips jerk underneath you. "Fuck, fuck—sorry."

You don't even notice it though. You're lost in the feeling of his fingers. "Are you close?" he pants.

A moan tears from your throat at the same time. "Y-yes. I'm close. I'm—" You dip your head against his, your eyes drifting down between your bodies.

You bite your lip. The way his hand disappears into your panties and his arm flexes as he continues to rub tiny circles shouldn't turn you on so much, but it does. It makes your head spin and your stomach clench.

"Caleb..!"

"Y-yeah?"

"I'm—Oh fuck. Caleb, I'm—Please!" you whine. "Please, please!"

He doesn't have time to speak before you're going rigid above him—hips jerking against his hand, choked moans spilling past your lips, and your grip on him becoming bruisingly tight. Then you're going limp.

Caleb gently draws his hand back, marveling at the mess on his fingers before holding you close. "Hey, are you okay?"

When you only hum against his shoulder he shakes you softly. "Pips, look at me."

You pull your head back to show him the blissed-out look on your face and he lets out a sigh of relief.

He swallows hard, his chest falling and rising too quickly. "You're so pretty."

You smile, your chest giving a little tug. "Stop it.."

"I can't help it," he murmurs, pressing lazy kisses to your cheeks and lips.

You smile, leaning into his little pecks.

His lips find your forehead as he breathes out, "Did I really make you feel that good?"

"You made me feel amazing."

Caleb sighs, pulling you in by your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. "Thank you for helping me."

"Of course."

You're silent for a beat, then gently, he rolls his hips up, a staggered breath slipping past his lips. "I'm—hahh—sorry.." Even then, he doesn't stop.

Instead, he slides his hands down your hips and guides you against him. "Can I please? You were amazing... But.. but you feel so..nng.. nice."

"Yes, baby," you coo, forcing yourself to see straight again as you follow his rhythm. "You did so good."

Caleb whimpers into your shoulder. "Say that again."

"You did soo good, Caleb."

Another whimper, his hips rolling faster now, more desperate. His breath stutters, and you can feel how hard he is beneath you—how badly he wants it.

"Please… Pips…” His voice is wrecked, trembling. “I—I don’t think I can—"

You press closer, giving his ear a tender nip. "It's okay. You were so sweet for me. Just enjoy yourself."

His next breath stutters out of him, hot against your skin.

Everything after that blurs. All he knows is that you feel too good to be true. That he wants to stay in this moment with you. Forever.

––

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[yaburnaee]

photos can lie, just like people. @ mitch rapp?

Fall’s  well  and  truly  crawled  its  way  kicking  and  screaming  into  the  picture,    but  by  PNW  standards  it’s  a  predictably  wet  and  dreary  season.    It’s  chilly  enough  to  warrant  a  layer  or  two,    depending  on  your  preferences,    and  Mitch  wears  a  dark  fleece  quarter  -  zip  over  his  t  -  shirt.    Seated  in  a  booth  that  crunches  suspiciously  beneath  you  and  far  from  repelled  by  the  sticky  menu  he  pretends  he  isn’t  familiar  with,    he  looks  the  part  of  a  simple  man  out  for  early  breakfast  with  an  old  friend.    He’s  always  played  these  sorts  of  roles  well.

His  service  animal,    Charlie,    sits  closer  to  his  side  of  the  table,    unperturbed  by  neither  the  thunder  that  warps  the  windows  seemingly  made  out  of  plexiglass  or  the  lone  waitress  passing  with  stacks  of  pancakes  and  plates  of  bacon.    The  German  shepherd  watches  Mitch  dutifully,    tongue  lolling  only  when  he  reaches  to  scratch  behind  her  ear.    His  movements  are  orchestrated,    an  ensemble  of  ease  that  Charlotte  might  think  him  complacent  and  easy.    As  if  Mitch  Rapp  has  ever  been  easy  in  his  life,    retired  or  not.

When  he  presents  the  photos  after  they’ve  ordered  (for  him,    the  kitchen  sink  basically  with  an  extra  side  of  sausage  links  for  Charlie),    he  simply  takes  a  deep  pull  from  his  mug  of  coffee.    He’d  asked  for  the  carafe  and  he  takes  his  time  refilling  his  cup  before  finally  meeting  his  companion’s  unyielding  gaze.    ❝    That  sounds  an  awful  lot  like  a  confession.    ❞  He’s  not  really  looking  for  one.    Mitch  smiles  and  leans  back,    the  booth laminate  cracking  against  his  shoulder  blades.    The  surveillance  pictures  between them are  grainy,    but  unmistakably  a  mirror to her.    Mitch  shrugs.    ❝    Look,    I  don’t  really  care  what  you’ve  been  up  to,    Charlotte.    ❞  A  vein  thickens  at  his  temple;    Mitch  tilts  his  head  and  loses  the  grin.    ❝    Or,    rather,    I  care  that  what  you’ve  been  doing  could  be  useful  to  me.    ❞

— @absensia / A SLIVER OF DARKNESS.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Wendigo

Being out on the frontier ain't easy, 'specially not for a woman. And when a stranger wanders in from the plains, you know things ain't never gonna be easy again. 5.4k words. Originally published October 2022.

IT'S MORNING WHEN YOUR DADDY DRAGS A DEAD MAN INTO THE HOUSE.

You're curled up in front of the fire place, half dreamin' and half reading, when they stagger through the door. You notice your daddy first, breathing hard with the effort of keepin' the man up.

"Pa? What happened?"

Snow is thick on his shoulders and trapped in the brim of his old Stetson. But your daddy don't seem to care.

You get to your feet slowly. It's then that you notice the stranger.

A real tall fella, bent over like he ain't got much strength left in him. The winter was cruel to him and what's left of him is all bone, bone and hunger and aching need.

"Get the door to your room open."

Your daddy ain't askin'. That's his rancher voice - all hard steel. Your daddy is commanding you.

You stand still, too shocked to move. It ain't normal. Your daddy never talks to you like you're just one of the cowhands.

"But daddy, I don't want a dead man in my room."

You're whining, you know it. But you can't stop yourself. The stranger is covered in snow and bleeding too. You don't want him on top of your nice clean sheets, don't want a dying thing in the place where you sleep.

"Ain't dead yet. And he ain't gonna die, not if I can help it."

The stranger looks carved outta hunger and little else. Dark clothes and mean looking spurs, he ain't the type of fella you invite into your home.

"But why my room daddy?"

Your father is already dragging the man down the passage, his boots real loud against the wood floor. You follow behind them, your book still hanging from your fingers.

He doesn't wait for you to catch up. Just leans the fella against the wall for a second and opens the door to your room himself.

"But pa-"

Your daddy ain't hearing it. He spears you with a look to tan leather, a real mean glare that shuts you right up.

Your pa ain't ever cruel - not to you. You can't understand it. Why is he getting all worked up about a stranger? Ain't one man just as good as the next? Why go through all this trouble for someone you don't even know?

He drops the stranger on your bed and you flinch. When he speaks, his voice is still hard.

"He's half starved and half frozen. It don't look good and I want you to stay right here with him."

"Me? I ain't know a thing about him!"

Your daddy ignores you, dusting the snow off his hat 'fore putting it back on again. "Feed him and keep him warm, 'til I'm back with the surgeon. You hear me?"

You're staring at your daddy. He's gone mad, you're sure of it. The stranger is just another mouth to feed and you ain't got the food, not with winter already here.

Your daddy is tough and your daddy is smart - he tamed the west, made something out of the wild frontier. You don't like this starved man in your home, but if your daddy's asking you...

You nod slowly, shifting your eyes to the stranger.

"That's my girl." Your pa's voice is kinder and he grins at you. Then he's out the door.

In the silence, you finally take a good look at the man. He ain't much older than you really, but there's a hunger in his face you ain't got.

He's mighty handsome too, but it ain't...

It ain't a safe kind of beauty.

He's got plenty of scars but that ain't what makes you wary. 

There's something cruel in him - in the lines 'round his eyes, in the set of his jaw. He's winter lean. 

What was your daddy thinking? Leaving you to care for a wolf?

You take a deep breath. You can handle this. He's just a man, a man like any other. Ain't no kinder and he ain't no crueler.

But you ain't sure where to start. Lookin' at him is like lookin' straight into a grave. He ain't got no colour to him and his breathing is too slow to be normal.

Well, if you were sick and near dying, you'd wanna be comfortable, right? Get him all tucked away then get something for that hunger, that thirst.

His Stetson is covered with snow but underneath the ice, it's midnight dark. Slowly, you take it off. You're waiting for him to open his eyes, flinch, scream, anything.

But he's still as death and the hat comes off easy.

Underneath it, his hair is a dark blonde. Long enough to brush his jaw and still littered with snow.

The strands cling to his forehead and you smooth them away without thinking. His skin is real cold. Hell, he's probably frozen straight down to the bone. 

You sigh quietly.

His gun belt has two revolvers, both of 'em a bright silver. They ain't just for looking pretty either - the metal is covered in fine scratches from years of use.

You reckon it ain't a good idea to sleep with guns on and you reach forward, your fingers brushing the buckle.

He grabs your wrist.

He moves fast, faster than you've ever seen a man move. You try to jerk away, but he still has some strength in him and his grip is iron. Tight enough to bruise.

"The hell you doin' girl?"

The stranger's voice is deep but rough with thirst, a coyote learnin' to speak. You're frozen - you ain't expected him to be so strong or so fast.

You swallow and slowly drag your eyes up to look at him.

"Takin' your belt off."

It's his eyes that you notice first. Yellow gold and dangerous, he looks like he wants to eat you alive. Coyote eyes your daddy calls 'em.

"Oh really?" His eyes rake you up and down, lingering without an ounce of shame. "And you haven't even asked my name yet."

He ain't a gentleman and there's something in the way he smiles that makes you go cold. It's staring straight down the barrel of a gun, the way he makes you freeze.

"I ain't got a chance to ask your name on account of all the near fainting."

He laughs. It's deep, like his voice. But it ain't a kind laugh. The stranger don't have no kindness in him at all.

"I 'spose that's fair."

He's still holding your wrists but his grip ain't as tight.

"It just ain't a polite thing, touching a man's guns while he's sleeping. You get that darlin'?"

He lies down again and finally let's you go. Talkin' ain't done him no favors and his breathin' is real shallow. His eyes are closed again and you stand up, all slow and cautious.

"I'll get you something to drink."

He don't respond and you hurry away, your back burning the whole time.

Water is everything out on the plains and with winter outside your door, even the well has started freezing. You don't wanna feed the stranger, don't wanna quench his thirst. What good has ever come from having a coyote at your table?

But your daddy told you to do something and you listen to your daddy, 'specially out here. You listen to him 'cause otherwise you'd be dead and gone long ago. Buried out on the prairie like so many others.

Life ain't easy out west and the land belongs more to ghosts than people.

When you return, the stranger's eyes are still closed. Most folks look harmless in their sleep, like their dreams are all they care 'bout. But that ain't true of him.

Being near him is being near a bear just as the snow melts. Any moment, he'll open his eyes and chew straight through your heart.

You clench your jaw and reach out your hand. Your fingers rest on his forehead, then his cheek. He's still icy to the touch and you ain't sure how he keeps breathing.

"That feels real good sweetheart." His voice is low.

He opens his eyes slowly, and when they settle on you, he manages a smile. His teeth are sharp and his lips are bloody, like he's been chewing at them for a real long time.

"I brought you some water."

He sits up slowly but his eyes never leave you.

"Much obliged darlin'."

He reaches for it and his fingers brush yours. You flinch - his touch is cold as the grave.

He drinks slow but his muscles are tight and you know it ain't easy. He's fighting with himself for every sip - the desperate, thirsty part of him just wants to gulp it all down. He would drink a river dry, if you gave him the chance.

When he's done, he looks at you and he smiles. A twisted thing that never touches his eyes.

"You got some food too?"

"I do."

But you ain't eager to share it with him. What was it the ranch hands always said? Don't feed the wolves unless you wanna feed them everything you've got?

Your daddy was wrong to bring him here - wrong to offer him hearth and home when the men were lean and the crows were watching.

You don't move and he watches you. In the quiet, your heart starts to race. What's going through his head, that makes his eyes so dark?

"You ain't much like your pa, you know that?"

His wolf eyes look straight through your soul. You fidget with your dress, tryin' your best to look uninterested.

"Your daddy is a better man than most. But you...well, I reckon he spoils you."

He licks his lips and you realize the bleeding is worse than you thought - he's teeth are red with it.

He continues, "Your daddy ain't taught you enough about the frontier."

Who does he think he is? Lyin' in your bed, drinkin' your water and lecturing you?

"You ain't know a damn thing me."

You're scared of him but you're bitter too, and anger is easier to stomach than fear.

You don't mean to snarl at him, but your blood is up and you ain't good with your temper. Your cheeks are red hot and your heart leaps right up your throat, 'til you can almost taste your own blood. 

"Get your own damn food if you want it."

You turn to leave but his hand grabs the back of your dress and he yanks you toward him. He's strong and you ain't expecting it, ain't got any time to dig in your heels. 

You land hard on the bed, right next to him.

"I ain't done talkin' sweetheart. Ain't your daddy ever taught you any manners?"

He's voice is real close to you ear and he has a growl to him that makes you freeze. He smells of juniper and pine, of icy cold winter.

"Let me go."

You try real hard to sound brave and mean, to sound like your pa when he wants something done. But you ain't your daddy and the stranger is too close and too cruel. Your voice is quiet and afraid, a girl begging a monster.

You hate yourself for it.

"Why would I do that?"

His other hand curls around the back of your neck and he leans toward you, 'til you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear.

"You've got a real temper in you girl."

His voice is rough with somethin' you can't recognize. Hate? Anger?

He ain't a man to be disrespected, ain't someone to take an insult.

You should apologize, say your rage got the better of you. Say you won't let it happen again and that you're real sorry. Ask him to please let you go.

But even in your fear, your pride won't bend. How dare he touch you so easily? You don't belong to him - he ain't got a damn say in how you behave.

You swing around, your nails coming up to scratch his face, dig his eyes out, make him bleed.

But you ain't learnt from the last time.

He's faster than you and he catches your hand in his. His grip is tight and he's skin is rough, calloused from years of gun slinging.

He's face is just next to yours and the dim morning sun casts him in shadow.

"Temper, temper."

He chides, his gravel voice rumbling through you.

You're going to bite his face off, just lean forward and-

And he's smiling.

Not a cruel smile neither. All gold eyes and real deep dimples.

He's dangerous, you know it in your bones. But his smile is all honey, all sunrise gold.

There ain't a lot of men out here, and none who smile at you like that. None who look you straight in the eyes like you're all they've ever wanted.

"Let me go, please."

You ask politely this time. He's too handsome and he's too close and Lord help you, your hearts gonna run right outta your rib cage.

He hums softly. "Ain't happenin' girly. I let you go and you're gonna run right out that door and leave me to freeze."

You want to get away from him, it's true. He's twisting your soul 'round his fingers 'til you ain't sure whether he wants to kiss you or eat you alive. 

You shake your head. "I'll stoke the fire. My pa said to keep you warm."

He laughs, a real throaty laugh. "You always do what your daddy says?"

"Of course."

Why did it have to be him? If your daddy was going around saving strays, couldn't he have found someone else? Anyone else? 

The stranger is a mystery and you hate it. 

His grip tightens 'round your neck. "You ain't gonna run off?"

"Ain't that what I said?"

He's quiet for a real long time. You start thinking he ain't even considering it - he's just gonna keep you here with him 'til your daddy gets back. 

And then he let's you go.

"Alright sweetheart, let's see you keep your word."

You stand up slowly, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

Your room is the only bedroom with a fireplace and when you've put all the space you can between the two of you, you finally turn your back on him.

You stack the firewood carefully, feelin' his eyes on you the whole time.

"You ain't scared of me, are you?"

You flinch. 

"Why would I be?"

Your voice comes out real calm. It's easier when you ain't looking in his eyes, when he ain't spearing you down with the heat of his stare.

"I ain't sure. I promise I'm real nice darlin'."

You make the mistake of looking at him. He's smiling at you with those sharp teeth and he don't seem nice at all.

You drop your eyes real fast. Your cheeks feel all tingly and you ain't sure why, ain't sure how he does this to you.

Ain't you 'sposed to like men who are kind?

Not this stranger, not a man made cruel from years of hard living. And still...

"You got a name stranger?'

"I do."

You wait but he doesn't say anything more. He's giving you a taste of your own medicine and you loathe him for it.

"How did my daddy find you?"

"Is that really the question you wanna ask me?"

His voice is better, less harsh. But that don't mean he's kind. Don't mean he's good. 

You fiddle with the kindling, staying quiet. 

" 'Cause I think what you really wanna know is 'why.' Why your daddy brought me here, why he wants to save me."

You turn to face him. How did he know? You ain't that easy to read. Hell, most of the ranch hands can't even tell if you're in a good mood, much less guess what you're thinking.

Who is this man?

He has you full attention again and he smiles, runs his hand through his blond hair. 

" 'S what I was sayin' earlier. You ain't know enough about the plains. You can't survive alone out here. You've gotta take care of folks, gotta keep them fed when they need it. Your daddy knows that."

You raise a brow. "And what happens when you don't?"

He laughs but it's bitter as sand. "Hungry folk are dangerous folk."

But ain't he half starved already?

You turn back to the fireplace, finally striking a match. The fire catches quick and the light rims you in gold. 

The stranger watches you - on your knees and haloed in warmth, you're a sight for sore eyes. All those long months on the plains, always tryin' to be one step ahead of death and here you are, a just reward for all his suffering.

You ain't got a clue how hard life is, ain't got any idea how the nights stretch long and lonely. But he'll teach you. 

He'll make sure you learn the danger of hunger unsatisfied. 

"Come sit with me." He says quietly.

You stand and shake your head slowly. Being in here is stifling, makes you wanna crawl right outta your skin.

Is it fear or want? You ain't sure.

"Come sit with me. I don't bite." He ain't smiling no more.

You swallow and cross your arms, fold a little into yourself. He ain't anything you're familiar with. Folks don't order you 'round - not when you're the boss' daughter.

"I don't trust you." You say simply.

He's sitting on the edge of your bed, his revolvers glinting in the cold winter sun. He's a desperado, you ain't got a doubt about it.

"What am I gonna do to you girl? I just want a little company."

He taps his fingers 'gainst his knee, watching you with sharp eyes.

"You ain't got a clue darlin'. Out there, folk shoot 'fore they offer conversation. Is it so bad that I wanna talk to you?"

"Then talk. I can hear you just fine from over here."

He shakes his head slowly. "You grudge me food and water. And now you won't even talk to me. You always this charmin' sweetheart?"

You bristle. He's the one who ain't got any manners at all, not you.

"Fine." You snarl and stalk forward, stopping right in front of him. "Happy now?"

A smile is crawling 'cross his bloody lips. "Still ain't working on that temper, are you darlin'?"

"I ain't your darling! And I ain't got a temper neither."

He reaches out slowly and his hands come to rest on your waist. He don't hold you tight but his fingers are long and they dig into you just a little.

You freeze, not expecting him to touch you. His voice is real low, just shy of a growl.

"Don't me want to call you my darlin'? You'd better stop me then."

You slap him.

You're quicker than him for once and you hit him hard enough to twist his head, the sound cracking through the quiet. Your palm stings and it runs straight up your arm.

He touches his cheek gingerly, his other hand getting real tight 'round you, clawing straight into your back.

Oh no.

You're done for. He's gonna grab one of his guns and end you right now, shoot you straight through the heart. Or maybe he'll do it with his bare hands, just choke the life outta you. Or -

He laughs.

"God damn girl, I bet you've got a mean right hook too."

He grins and rubs his cheek.

"You're a real hellcat, ain't you?"

His other hand is still curled 'round your waist and you step away, pull yourself free of him. You don't trust his good mood. Don't trust his smile when his eyes ain't got no joy in them.

He ain't eager to let you go but there ain't much he can do to stop you - nothing gentle at least.

You've had enough of him - of his entitlement and his anger, of his values that mean nothing to you. You spin on your heel and aim for the door.

"I wish he left you outside to starve."

You ain't gotta share a damn thing with him. Who cares if he dies? What's yours is yours. You ain't gotta give him food or shelter or kindness. Ain't owe him.

Your daddy was wrong. You gotta look out for yourself first.

"Sweetheart I-"

You leave 'fore he can finish, shutting the door and leaning against it. Just tryin' to slow your heart.

He ain't a pious man and he ain't thinking holy thoughts 'bout you.

The first thing you notice when you turn around is the dimness. The fires burnt out, sure. But the sun should be shining through the glass.

You walk into the living room and stare out the big bay windows, your mouth fallin' open. 

The clouds are thick and dark, real storm clouds blowing in from the plains. And the wind has gotten stronger too. You watch it kicking up puffs of snow and hurling it past the glass.

A blizzards blowing in, you're sure of it.

But it's movin' fast, faster than you thought possible. When the stranger came in, there weren't even a breeze.

God, is your daddy gonna be okay? Maybe he's reached town already. Maybe him and the doc are drinking together and waitin' for the storm to pass. Your daddy's tough - he'll be fine. Right?

"You okay darlin'?"

You whirl around, your heart in your throat.

The passage behind you is real dark and you can just kinda see the stranger, a blurry silhouette. He's standing strange and his arms are real long looking. Has he always been that tall?

"I'm...fine."

There's something 'bout his voice you don't like.

Somethin' in it that makes you take a step back. And then another and another, 'til you're pressed right against the window sill. It digs into your back and the chill goes straight down to your spine, dulls its teeth on your marrow.

"What I tell you 'bout leavin' while I'm talking?"

You can just make out his yellow eyes. They're catching the light and glinting like an animal's.

He continues, "You're real slow to learn, ain't you?"

You frown, your heart stuttering inside you.

"No. 'Course not."

He laughs and it runs down your neck like ice.

"You're really somethin', you know that y/n?"

When did he learn your name? You sure ain't told him.

His voice is low but it has winter's bite to it. He talks to you like cowpokes talk to girls after a real long time out in the plains - all hunger and need.

"You're just the kinda girl I like. Selfish, greedy, gotta learn her place."

His eyes trace your body and he smiles at you, that mocking half smile that ain't got an ounce of kindness in it.

"Now come 'ere."

He lunges forward but you're ready for it and you dive outta the way. You land hard on your knees but you scramble up, your blood screamin' in your ears.

Gotta get a weapon or somethin' - he's still stronger than you, even if he's half starved.

Your daddy keeps a Henry rifle 'bove the fire place and you aim for it, movin' fast.

But the stranger ain't no ordinary man. He grabs you from behind and you both go crashing down.

His body is pressed right up against you and he's cold as ice.

"That blizzards keepin' you right here darlin, ain't no running."

His voice ain't human. It's the cracking of bone, the tearing of flesh, the hound dog howling. His voice is hunger and nothin' else.

His hands are pressed into the floor next to your waist and his teeth brush your ear. Even starving, he's lean with muscle and you can feel the hardness under his skin.

His breath is cold and it smells of wintergreen.

He's gonna bite straight through your throat. Rip you apart. Have your heart right between his teeth.

But you ain't dying today.

You snarl and try to buck him off, but he doesn't budge. His weight is pressing you into the floor and you can't take a full breath.

Your ribs feel like they're 'bout to snap inwards, shards of your own bone driving straight through your heart.

You struggle under him and he laughs.

"Keep doin' that sweetheart. I love feelin' you squirm."

His voice is husky and it ain't like anything you've heard before.

The dead fire is right next to you and the embers are still hot, still have some burning red streaking through them.

You reach out and grab one. It's scalds your palm and your whole hand is nothing but white hot pain. But you ain't gonna let that stop you.

You twist around and press the burning ember right in his face.

He shrieks like an animal and leaps back, light on his feet like he don't weigh a thing.

"Fucking hurts." His voice is a hiss, a rattlesnake under your skin.

You scramble up and yank the rifle down, swinging around with your finger on the trigger.

The stranger is in front of you and there ain't nothin' human left in him. He's crouched down on the floor and his limbs are too long - sticking out like an insect's. He ain't got no lips neither. Just ragged, bloody skin like he's eaten straight through them.

Corpse pale and cold as the frost, the stranger in your home was always a dead man.

His teeth are sharp and long and Lord help you, he has so many teeth.

He lunges toward you.

He's fast, faster than anything alive. But you ain't done fighting yet.

His body is in the air when you fire the first shot. The bullet hits him straight in the head and knocks him back.

Black blood sprays across the floor, across the furniture, across your face.

He crashes into the dining table, his spine shattering against the table legs.

You don't wait to check if he's still alive.

You aim for his chest and empty your daddy's rifle. Put bullet after bullet straight into his heart. The sound is thunder and when the firing stops, your ears are ringing.

His blood pools around him, thick as oil. The wendigo is still.

The wendigo is dead.

The blizzard is startin' in earnest now and the snow outside the windows is coming thick and fast. Your shoulder aches from the rifle's recoil and you can't get the shaking outta your fingers. You sink down to your knees, your breath ragged.

They were just 'sposed to be stories.

You keep your eyes on its body, scared of even blinking.

With a heart of ice, it's born in the cold, lean months.

The wendigo devours.

The wendigo is ever hungry.

But the wendigo is dead.

You wait a real long time. Until you heart ain't as loud and the blizzard rages, until the whole house is freezing. The wind screams and the wendigo doesn't move.

You're safe.

You close you eyes. You let yourself breathe. The gun slinger is dead and he ain't gonna hurt you, ain't gonna touch you.

You were right - ain't nothing good ever comes of strangers at your table.

The winter grows angry, but you're safe and you're warm. And the stranger ain't ever gonna have you. You smile. You open your eyes.

He's gone.

He was dead and now he's gone.

You jump to your feet, holding the rifle like an axe. The quiet stretches around you, nothin' but your own breathing to break it.

Where is he?

You keep perfectly still, squinting into the dark corners of the room. The light is scarce and every shadow hides him.

"You ain't getting away from me sweetheart."

You whirl around but he's quick as a cat. He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you toward him.

He ain't gentle and he shakes you 'til your jaws rattling. Holds you like a kitten.

He's pressed up behind you and he dips his head low, 'til his lips are right above your pulse.

"So selfish but so warm..."

You scream, try to pull away. But he ain't movin' and all you do is rip some of your own hair out.

He laughs, laughs deep and cold.

"You gotta start listenin' sweetheart. What I just say 'bout getting away?"

He uses your hair like a leash and tosses you straight across the room.

The floor hits you hard and knocks the air clean outta you. Pain spikes white hot right through your ribs.

He's stronger than any man has the right to be. He threw you clear across the room without even tryin'.

He don't wait for you to get up neither. He just grabs your jaw and drags you to your knees. His fingers dig into your cheeks.

He's human again but that ain't a kindness.

His nails - his claws - leave bloody scratches 'cross your skin.

You look up and he's staring down at you with those strange, hungry eyes.

Coyote gold. Wolf gold. Killer gold. 

His pupils are blown out wide, 'till they're all black rimmed in honey. He's staring at you and there ain't nothin' but want in him.

"Your daddy's a good man. He knows the way of the west. But you..."

He smiles that sardonic grin of his. Your bullets ain't left a hole but blood is running down from his hairline. It creeps down into his mouth and his smile is red and cruel. 

"You need to learn a lesson girl."

He pulls you up and you scream. You claw at him, dig your nails in deep 'til your fingers ache.

He holds you like a prize and his eyes drop to your lips. And then lower still.

You're crying, tears on your tongue bitter as poison. It ain't fair. You just wanted to keep yourself safe and fed and warm. You shouldn't be punished for it. 

He runs a thumb across your cheek but there ain't no kindness in it.

"Awww, am I scaring you darlin'?"

He said your daddy was a smart man, a kind man.

Would he have let you go? If you were generous or selfless or good?

He smells of the forest and your head is swimmin' with it. His thumb traces the outline of your lips and his smile is all teeth. He'll shatter your bones like glass if he wants.

He presses his lips against your cheek and whispers to you, his voice cruel as the snow.

"I'll be gentle sweetheart. I promise."

It's then that you realize.

A man's got more than one kind of hunger.

[krems-chair]

I'm always interested in analyses that portray a romanced Solas as a predatory hee hee trickster god manipulating a young and impressionable Lavellan into falling for him and if that's your world state go ahead and live your truth b/c it's frankly none of my business, but I sincerely think there are those who forget that for a lot of people, a romanced Lavellan is (with all due respect to my own Solasmancing Inquisitor Rielle Lavelllan) batshit crazy. Having her boyfriend turn out to be a wolf god is honestly the least of her problems but oh boy is she unafraid to become one to fix this mess.

This is a woman who woke up in a dungeon with a glowing hand, figured out she could fix the world, and thought "fuck it, it's not like I'll have anything else better to do if Corypheus sticks around. Also. Everyone here kind of looks like they want to kill me, so maybe I'll stick with the protective powers that be for a minute." And then all of five seconds later she gets her hand snatched by a sketchy elven apostate who knows exactly what to do with her shiny new powers and cannot stop himself from having a Mr. Darcy level hand-flex after he lets it go (in my heart and soul this happens just out of the camera's gaze) and goes "hmm maybe there's something to be said for this world saving thing."

This is a woman who brought an entire fucking avalanche down on herself and three of her closest friends (and I do mean closest as in physical proximity, she doesn't know these people who are looking at her like she's Thedas' Next Top Idol) because even if it killed her it was the proper middle finger to send to the wannabe god bringing his army tap-dancing down the mountain pass towards her on the one night she had scheduled off to celebrate finally taking a W.

This is a woman going Take 2 Electric Boogaloo on waking up with no idea where she is and learning she was successful in spite-dragging herself up a different fucking mountain in a blizzard. Except now everyone is fighting wait nope now they're Kumbaya-ing a song Andraste's Herald should really probably be familiar with whoops, oh thank God, time for a side convo with the same apostate who's been trying to turn her entire life into a history class only for her to dive in headfirst (much to his initial abject horror) and get that good good discourse she needs since she can't go around arguing with everyone else like she wants to. "The orb is ours." You know what? Of course it is. But if they need the world saved from an elven oopsie, who better to right things than an elf? Fuck it, we ball.

This is a woman who misses being close to nature and goes positively feral at Skyhold, yeeting herself over balconies and banisters and turning the ancient fortress into her personal parkour playground because she's got energy to work off and shit to do, and if the path of least resistance to hunt down everyone she needs to talk to is coincidentally the same path that will absolutely wreck her knees by the time she's sixty, that's just how it has to be.

This is a woman who finds herself back at Haven with a man she's found it possible to be unfetteringly unabashedly herself with and thinks, "hey, maybe there could be more than the flirations we've exchanged over heated discussions and philosophical deep-dives, maybe I can have just one smooch as a treat." And when she feels her slowly unfurling passion reciprocated only to be shut down? She resolves herself to fight for this fledgling love and all the fade tongue that comes with it. This is a woman who gets the tiniest glimpse of what a retirement plan might look like after this whole saving the mortal world thing and buys all the way in.

This is a woman who has Grey Wardens to save from themselves, an empire trying to self-cannibalize, and still finds the time to go rescue a spirit because she, as a fellow comrade caught up in this mess, knows damn well that no innocent deserves to suffer if she can help it while she's got this insane amount of power she never asked for. And if that happens to lead to the man she feels safe enough to nap on the library couches with confessing at last the feelings she knows he's been smothering beneath his all-too-collected surface? Yeah, she'll take that W.

This is a woman who gets absolutely blasted head-over-ass into the fade and goes "honestly things were going a little TOO well." This is a woman who sneaks a peak at the closest fears of the companions she's come to know and love and goes "not on my fucking watch." This is a woman who sees that the man she forces herself to learn the old language for, her vhenan, fears being alone more than anything in the entire knowing world and resolves herself to ensuring it never comes to pass.

This is a woman who gets the opportunity to shape the government of a straight up country and runs around collecting wooden fucking halla in a palace full of elven servants with no time to dwell on that particularly cruel irony because out here it's scheme or be schemed. This a woman who collapses against a balcony railing after putting out some of the sickest literal and metaphorical dance moves The Game has ever seen, resigned to bear her ever-increasing burdens alone, only to find her heart and his horrible horrible hat extending a hand, promising her that if he is not alone, then neither is she.

Like, do you feel me here?

And then he dares to think something as sudden and damning as the truth is enough to keep her away? The queen of tough conversations and tougher choices? No, no, dear readers who have made it this far into my descent into madness.

Inquisitor Lavellan is a master-class in encouraging the odds against her to fuck around and find out. She is a rift-mending false-god-bashing politcally savvy terror upon all of Thedas. Solas (and all of the living breathing world) is lucky she took time out of her busy schedule to notice the way his smile softens when talking about spirits or appreciate the fluidity of his form when they're obliterating venatori out in the field. This man cradled her cheeks in his shaking hands, looked into weary and wide eyes and called her beautiful, and had the audacity to steal her heart before trying to peace out and take it with him.

If she's got to track down a real god this time and frog march him into the fade to reclaim both her heart and the future she fought for because all he wants to do is launch himself like a meteor towards achieving his greatest fear, if she has to spend hours lecturing him on the sheer audacity of his ass while spirits float by and realize they're grateful they never had the chance to take on a body and subject themselves to a verbal lashing this brutal, if she has to do cartwheels around him while dropping all sorts of sweet nothings in the language she is now quite proficient in until he gets it through his luminous gleaming skull that when she said "var lath vir suledin" my girl meant it? Then that's what she's going to do.

"I wish it could, vhenan."

Oh it's going to, buddy. Buckle up to get wrecked, to get absolutely loved and cherished you fool, because Inquisitor Lavellan is not the Dread Wolf's prey, she's his hunter.

[kinichval]

kinich normally doesn't get jealous.

his history of that sharpshooter type of glare at someone who thinks they can have a slot in your contacts is literally just twice.

the first being a member of a group project, he wasn't blaming you for being oblivious to the flirtatious advances, but it was making him uncomfortable. although, it was around the early stage of your relationship, so kinich finds it hard how to voice it out without seeming like he's too possessive.

the second time was when you were spending a bit too much time with this new friend of yours, now kinich beats himself up for thinking that this new person has some malicious intent, but he just can't brush off the side glances and intentionally close proximity whenever kinich is in the same picture as that new face. good thing, this time kinich knew how to work around his jealousy and communicated it with you!

kinich fears this will be the third time.

it's ridiculous.

unlike the aforementioned circumstances, this one holds no third party. not a living one at least.

(no, we're not talking about the dead)

"can't you just move in with me? we go to the same university, my apartment is closer too."

you raise a brow at your boyfriend, it was early in the morning on a sunday when all your responsibilities are checked off the list and finally, finally, you can rest without the consequences knocking at the back of your head.

"my love, i would love to live with you, but where is this coming from?" you giggle, cupping his cheek. the blanket draping over your cuddled bodies drifts down as kinich repositions to sit up, towering over your face. "just because..." his cheeks flush the color of fresh roses displayed on your wall, except he wasn't really blushing at the intimate moment, especially with the way you find his gaze momentarily falling your line of stuffed toys beside you.

"kinich, what are you on about?" you tease him, the government name pulls his attention back to your gorgeous morning face. oh god, if living with you means seeing your pretty face every day, he'll go find the best ring and propose right now.

"you should kiss me first thing in the morning," kinich mutters as he retreats to your neck. "i kiss you every day, my love." you try to detach him from the depths of your neck, yet he resists and tightens his hug around your waist. "i said every morning." he emphasizes, still his point is nowhere to be seen.

"we see each other in the morning before classes start."

"no, i don't mean that."

kinich rolls over to his back, dragging you with him. you lay flat on his chest as he peppers your face with soft kisses: cheeks, nose, jaw, and a lasting kiss on your lips.

"i'm jealous," his admission further twists your brain, where is this conversation going? as far as you know you do not kiss anyone—

wait, hold up.

"are you jealous that i kiss my teddy bear?"

kinich is quiet, embarrassed, and mentally throwing himself off a cliff.

"i want to be the first one you kiss in the morning." he admits, and before he can find a hiding spot, your caress locks him to face you. "you want me to live with you because you're jealous of my stuffed toys?" you chuckle, heightening his already flushed out face.

"marry me first."

"will you marry me right now?"

[punkkture]

word count: 1.6k

dead dove warning: drunk simon, overstimulation

mdni

.ೃ࿔*:· —  simon doesn't normally go out to drink, but when he does, he comes back home absolutely hammered. clicking the front door closed quietly, and then kicking the shoes near the door and nearly stumbling.

its not enough to wake you up though. and it didnt wake you up when he sways open the bedroom door and the smell of alcohol fills the room. only when his heavy fingers start moving over your sleeping form do your eyes flutter open.

"what are you doing?" a sleepy voice parts your lips. not the happiest about being woken up - but glad he was at least home safe. turning over in the bed as fluffy covers twisted.

he doesn't think there's anything else he could focus on besides kissing you right now. so that's what he does.

"hey sugar . ." he mumbles while getting on top of the covers to smooch your face more. pulling down the blankets while pressing his lips to that spot he knows you love.

his lips are hot and persistent. like a drunken dog greeting its owner. a moan is felt against your skin as he buries his face in your neck. licking and sucking at the skin there. "mmm, i miss you." his voice muffled as he murmurs. his hands digging around for you despite how tangled the sheets are. "baby, wake up."

you are tired beyond belief. but when he comes home like this, there's only so much to be done. "simon youre drunk . . . get off me" you mumble lowly, sleep still seeping its way into your body. "jus' go to bed."

he whines against your neck at the words, his hands gripping your hips tighter. hes not in the mood to be told to go to bed. he doesn't want to go to bed. "im not drunk, i just . . ." he mumbles, his movements growing more needy, "wanna touch you, baby."

the hand that isn't gripping your hips moves to your chin again, tugging your face so you'd look at him. only met with dazed out eyes and a flushed face. "god i need you." he growls. his voice thick with desire and laced with whiskey and something that sounds close to frustration.

one of his big hands reaches down, grabbing your leg and pulling it up around his hip. it gets you to yelp. he's certainly more persistent tonight. "will you go to bed afterwards?" you throw back at him.

he breaths out a moan at the sound of your little annoyed voice. his breathing quickens at the feeling of you leg around his hip like this. he really does look so handsome like this. all red in the face with heated up eyes.

"yeah," he says, his voice a rough growl, "ill go to bed. after i'm done with you, sugar."

with his confirmation, you work to shuffle of your panties. just doing anything to get him asleep quicker. he moans at the sight. hes a complete mess. only staying awake to watch you wrap around him. but the alcohol is still flowing strong through his system.

he grabs your hips a second time now that you're exposed for him. dragging you onto his hips until you're almost on top of him. still tangled up in the sheets - his palms move to your thighs, big hands circling your thighs while his breath kisses your face.

"you're so pretty . . . i want you so bad. need you so bad. love you, baby" he mumbles.

he's being sweet, but its barely convincing you. "i love you too simon, just . . hurry im tired."

his hips jerk at the sound of your voice. his name on your lips just sounds so perfect right now. god, he loves the way his name sounds on your lips, the way it sounds when you say you love him.

"yeah. okay," he says, his voice a little hoarse. his warm hand sliding under your shirt and pulling it off. "just lay back and let me take care of you."

his eyes run over your body like he's taking in a feast. he kisses his way down your skin. savoring every centimeter he can get his lips on. his tongue leaving hot wet trails everywhere. simons hands are trembling to get his belt undone. his fingers clumsy from how drunk he still is.

he can still think at least, he knows what needs to happen . . . but he's so drunk on his desire that it takes a few tries to unbutton and unzip his jeans. finally, he gets his pants undone and he can start working them off his hips. he's practically panting by the time he manages to slide them down his legs, his shirt riding up a bit and baring his toned stomach and chest to you.

you’re tired. and you need him to know it. "c'mon simon" you whined.

"yeah. okay, yeah, yeah."

he pushes you down against the mattress, crawling on top of you. his face back in the crook of your neck while his hands shake. managing to hook a leg between yours, spreading them open so he can fit between them.

he just barely manages to shove his fat cock into your little hole. rocking into you with pure need. his heart picking up as he settles into your tight warmth. he's been itching for it all night he can barely keep his eyes open.

his breath comes out in shallow pants against your ear. he's just as restless and impatient and needy as he's ever been. his hips rocking against yours, trying to get as close as he can.

pushing his fat tip up against your cervix over and over again. he's a man with far too many needs, and right now all of them are being met.

"god," he mutters. "i'm not gonna last. 'm not gonna last."

his hips are instantly setting a ruthless pace against you. fucking into you with fervor and need. he lets out a low grunt against your skin. the sound alone is enough to drive him crazier. he's so close to the edge already. his dick is always too sensitive when he's drunk like this. he's trembling with how needy he is for you, and you're not even doing anything right now.

"that's it, that's it baby." he purrs.

and you can tell with how his hips are stuttering, you can't help but play him a little since he woke you up. "you're gonna cum already?" you pant out against his hot skin.

simon lets out another low noise. a grumbled groan mixed with a whine. his hands clenching hard at your hips to continue to rut into you. "mmm, n-no, i'm not . . " even though he's already a mess he's going to try and last. at least a little longer for you, even if he's struggling. "i'm fine," he assured, his voice low and strained, "just need a minute, baby. need to . . i . . just need a minute, okay?"

he's still panting against your neck. nuzzling his face against the sensitive skin there. his broad shoulders heaving as he struggles to breath. he's trying his best to control himself, but he's so close already.

your tight walls squeezing around his thick cock and bribing him to cum inside already. and its convincing, it really is. he can't even keep the pace steady. he absolutely is losing it. his head thrown back, moans escaping his throat like he's trying to muffle them on your skin.

"yeah, you gonna cum in me?" you continue to tease. breathless as he's bullying into you over and over again.

he lets out a long guttural moan. his eyes squeezed shut as you say that. there's no hiding the way it affects him, hes so easy to rile up right now.

"oh god, yeah. yeah, you want that?" he pants, voice is so strained and rough, hes going to let loose any second now, "you good if i . . . when i . ." he can barely think any coherent thought right now.

only focusing on how wet your cunt is and how it looks stretched around his cock. all it takes is a couple more pumps and he's spilling out inside you with a pathetic moan. he stills for just a second, watching his cock twitch as it empties out into you. and then he keeps going.

catching you by surprise he just goes harder. his growls turning into feverish grunts as he fucks into you even harsher. mewls escaping your lips with each thrust. your legs are shaking and you can barely keep hold of his broad shoulders. the headboard slamming back against the wall and nearly leaving dents.

"oh god," you pant out as he keeps going further and pushing your body to give him more. the desperate moans are now leaving your lips as his cock buries itself into you.

he's letting out such pathetic sounds. you've never heard a man let out such noises. his tip is red and so sensitive, but he can't stop moving his body against yours. eager to draw out anything from you.

your nails scratch at his back, begging him wordlessly to slow down. but he can't even register it. only focused on getting you to cum. his cum spilling out around him as he pushes into you over and over again.

its quick to get you creaming around him. moaning out against his skin and biting down into the muscle against his shoulder. he's shuddering and nutting into you again. his legs feel so weak and shaky.

both of you covered in sweat and panting. he didn't think he could cum a second time. but he also didn't expect to only last four minutes the first time. poor guy is just a mess as he pulls out of you.

"can 'ya suck me off?" he whines.

only getting a groan from you as you shove at his mountainous frame.

ೃ࿔* tag list: @vanillarosekiss @simonskitty @cu456 @silverwoodlynx @mlthree @vint4geroses @ktmjoslin @darlingchanse @xangelbnnyx @jgissle12 @asherscove @bunty-girl @diorpar @sky-robin  @ldrtypeofgirl @mentalhorror @teranya @chawitea @all-by-myself98 @jinx53 @alfiestreacle @frazzledfawn @iamtoriasworld @annierosesposts @dude1634 @happysmappy @itgetsdarksometimes35 @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @slut-lmao @theyluvlaur @bruisedfig @pinkthxt @hobiebrownenthusiast @h0lydrag0ns @cashmereandcookies @venuzdaugther

[viennacherries]

okay hi sorry i need to talk about the lucanis romance for a moment and why i think it's absolutely perfect. spoilers below the cut ofc

so obviously there are a limited number of romance scenes. i really do believe in the case of lucanis' romance this lends itself to telling his story.

we learn through party banter with him and emmerich that his relationship with rook is his first. and that's not suprising really, he's an assassin. he faces death constantly and aside from the fact that he could die at any moment, being in a relationship gives his enemies a weak spot to exploit. love and the weakness required to accept and give it is a risk he cannot afford in his line of work.

then you add on the fact that he's been in the ossuary for a year. he was definitely sure he was never getting out of there. and then he does but he's possessed.

so here's rook. and they're flirting with him and being all enticing and he thinks they're great. but he doesn't deserve love and he certainly can't risk it. he's an abomination, he'll put them in danger. and what happens afterwards? when he goes back to taking contracts? it only takes pissing off the wrong person once for rook to be in danger. so he mostly just talks around it. tried not to think about it or aknowledge it.

and then spite breaks through for the second time. and there's rook. again. and they're soft and understanding and kind and they remind him that under everything else, all of the trauma and the fear, he's human. they make him feel so safe and he starts to let his walls down.

we can't know for sure why he pulls away in that moment, but i think it's because he reminds himself how dangerous it is for him and for rook. he wants them terribly but it's such an awful no good idea so he drags himself away.

but he still cares for them. he makes them dessert and he keeps them safe and eventually he has to admit to himself that they're not just friends anymore.

and then rook is taken into the fade by solas.

he never tells rook, you only find this out in a bellara romance, but rook is in the fade for weeks.

all that time, lucanis is there and he's just full of regret. because holy shit he's fallen in love with them and now they're gone and he should've just told them. he should've held them like he wanted. because now he can't and he never will again.

and then they're back.

and he comes into their room and his words are so simple.

"i never thought id see you again. i thought id lost you"

and obviously the rest of his dialogue can vary in this scene but all of it is SO weighted if you consider the fact that he really did think they were dead.

"i do. i know how to feel."

"it's one of the things i love about you"

"i'm not going anywhere."

he is in LOVE with them and he's tired of fighting it. he's tired of pretending he isn't. he's tired of denying himself of what he wants because he's scared. because ultimately he did lose them, despite how careful he'd been, and it hurt just the same.

"i know how to feel." because he DOES now.

so in the last battle, before you fight elgernan, he tells you again just how much he loves you. how he'll do anything he needs to to be back in your arms when it's over. because those weeks without you were torture and he never wants to do that again. he wasted all that time terrified to hurt you but you got hurt anyway. why keep pretending? why keep denying himself the person he wants more than anything in the world? he goes from 0-100 because this is so much more real now. there's so much to lose.

"i've assumed you knew my heart because it beats for you. it's been beating... when i wanted you. when i was afraid to want you... tell me this ends with me asleep in your arms and i will kill any god you ask."

this one sentence conveys EVERYTHING. all of his longing throughout the game. how long he has loved rook. he didn't say it because he was afraid. but he's not afraid anymore.

so much of lucanis' romance is about subtext. it's about the things he doesn't say rather than the things he does.

i think it's absolutely beautiful.

[suksatoru]

despite being the adopted son of the greatest hero to live and attending the prestigious school known to the world as U.A. academy — tenko shimura was a bit of a shy hero.

it was only when you were partnered with the quiet boy who always sat towards the back of the class do you learn tenko has a bit of a... potty mouth.

"that fucking asshole shit-talking todoroki can dish it out, but i have never seen him take it."

you snort, taking another strand of tenko's raven hair between your fingers and rubbing his scalp with soothing circles

"uh huh... "

"i can't believe i got partnered with such a loser. you know, threatening to get the teachers fired on all might's behalf doesn't even work anymore! they know i hate his guts—and they still make me work with him." he goes on, folding his hands over his stomach with an angry huff as his eyes remain closed. his head shifts in your lap the slightest bit as he moves to get more comfortable.

your school's courtyard was somewhere you dragged tenko to often. he used to complain about the sun cooking him alive, but when you and him stumbled upon a wisteria tree towards the outer edges of the courtyard, he suddenly didn't mind coming outside as much anymore.

what used to be a homework spot transformed into a hang out spot. now, you and him catch up in between classes by sitting in the shade. his current dilemma was being partnered with touya todoroki for an english assignment — endeavor's son and all might's adopted one not getting along wasn't exactly a surprise.

"and you know what — i hate pretty boys like him. they think they're so much better than everyone else. egotistical pigs like todoroki can shove their sugar coated bullshit right up my—"

"i actually really like pretty boys."

tenko stills in your lap. half a second later, his eyes fly open, and he rises like jesus himself within a split second as he turns to you with an expression so mortified, you almost felt bad.

"wha—is this your way of telling me you have a crush on todoroki?!"

he squaks out the words like he can barely believe them himself. he glares at you, and you can only laugh

"no, i said i like pretty boys! you know, beauty is subjective. just because everyone else finds todoroki pretty doesn't mean i do." you grin, watching tenko get fired up even more by your words

"no way — you said you like pretty boys!" he whines, throwing an arm over his eyes like the confession physically pained him. you roll your eyes with a light laugh at your best friend's antics before gently nudging him

"ask me who i consider a pretty boy!" you beam, and tenko squints at you with a frown

"no."

"i promise you'll like my answer."

"there's no way i'm going to li—"

"you'll never know if you don't ask!"

tenko groans, dropping his head in his hands as he rubs his forehead. you watch his soft, dark locks flop side to side as his shoulders remained hunched in defeat. finally, he peers up at you—watching you pick at the grass beneath your fingertips with a sigh

"who would you consider to be a pretty boy?"

you hum, making a show of tapping your chin and pretending to be in deep thought. tenko tries not to let his eye twitch, but just the thought of you being attracted to another guy made his blood boil. whoever you ended up saying, if it wasn't him — tenko would personally make their life a living hell.

"if i really had to chose just one boy... " you trail off, furrowing your brows in faux concentration as tenko sits still — brimming with anticipation and expectancy before you send him a smile

"i suppose the prettiest boy in my world would be you."

tenko's eyes soften, so little that you barely notice it — before they harden.

"is this your way of trying to cover your slip up about liking todoroki from earlier? i don't care if you like him. half the school does, it's no surprise you do, too." tenko snaps, something sad and dejected just barely hidden in the dark shade of his eyes as you frown

"you don't believe me?"

"what the hell about me is pretty? nothing is," he mutters with an eye roll as he moves to sit beside you, resting his back against the tree you laid on as your frown deepens. you try to ignore the lack of warmth in your lap now that tenko's moved his head and focus on the situation at hand instead

"well... you don't give your physical appearance enough credit. for example—your eyes remind me of rainy days... the comfort and warmth they bring is unmatched!" you grin, tapping the side of his head and meeting his gaze with a smile — gray eyes peer back, and tenko blinks slowly at your sudden compliment.

"you have the softest hair ever, too — and you don't even have a good shampoo! i checked in your shower by the way, you're one of those 'three in one' wash people." you giggle as he huffs. but... he doesn't say anything. he stays quiet, but there's an unmistakable flush tinging his ears pink. you can see his resolve cracking with every word that leaves your lips

"it's not just your features, tenko. you're really smart, and i like how your face softens when you're really focused. like, on those video games you play—or when you're helping me study! you never get mad when i genuinely don't understand something, and you always help me whenever i'm in a tizzy! no matter what!"

tenko grunts in confirmation, eyes distant as he swallows the lump forming in his throat. his eyes widen a fraction when you scoot closer, and there's a mischievous gleam in your eyes that has him gulping

"but my favorite thing...the cutest and most endearing thing about you... would have to be this."

you tap the soft mole residing on tenko's chin, and his lips part as if he were about to say something — but not a sound comes out.

tenko's face feels like it's on fire. his fingers fist his uniform pants anxiously, and you're smiling so wide he thinks his heart might burst right out of his chest and fall right into your hands.

he suddenly drops his head into your lap, covering his face and muttering swears under his breath in a feeble attempt to cover his pink cheeks. your face falls to the side as you laugh, and the warmth of tenko's head in your lap returns — your fingers find his hair once again, and he seems a lot happier to be in your embrace than before.

[hedwig221b]

On the topic of OG Hale pack fics, any super good sterek ones that really focus on Stiles and the pack but have the flavor of your Derek? I love your Sterek fics but man I'm always sad the Hale Pack doesn't feature more prominently. (Og hales being derek, boyd, erica, issac, jackson, and peter.)

yk you should really ask the op @homemadesterekpie since she actually wrote that beautiful post

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf

"There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!” “We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.” Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

My Mother Told Me by Renmackree

Stiles joined the Emissary program to help Alpha wolves settle into their new roles and to follow in his mother’s footsteps. She had always told him he was destined to run with the wolves, but he thought she meant Scott and his pack. Instead, Stiles finds himself sent to Thingvallavatn, Iceland, with Alpha Derek Hale. It's clear the Alpha is hiding a part of him that Stiles can’t reach, but when a monster comes to threaten the pack, it’s always great to have someone in your corner with a little mischief up their sleeve

Choice by Omni

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings. Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't. (Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

The Comfort of Coming Down by MadcapRomantic

Stiles isn't the only human in the pack, but, more often than not, he's the most vulnerable.

Derek Didn't Know What To Do But Maybe Stiles Did by tiedtogetherwithadagger

He let his head fall onto Stiles’ shoulder with a sigh of relief. He wasn't losing his pack, at least not tonight. Erica would be okay. “Thank you,” Derek exhaled into Stiles’ hoodie. “Always,” Stiles said.

The Human of the Pack by smilingbuckley

Slowly, Derek's pack starts to act nice to Stiles and accept him in the pack after Scott basically abandoned him to have his secret moments with Allison.

The Boy Who Tamed the Sourwolf by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle

Stiles is used to being second tier in everyone's life. How easily people forget him and move on to bigger and better things. Used to always being in someone's shadow. Leave it to Derek Hale to shatter those expectations.

Go Away, Scott by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere

After the incident at the warehouse, Stiles is fed up with Scott. He finds himself drawn into Derek’s pack and in the process, drawn to Derek himself. With the Alpha Pack closing in, Derek needs to learn how to trust his pack and those around him. And who better to help him than Stiles?

Protect and Serve by MoonlitMemories

Stiles discovers the Nemeton starting to grow again in the preserve on Hale land. What does that mean for the pack? More importantly: why does the Nemeton seem so attached to Stiles?

Anthracite by LupusScintilla (inkandblade)

It's been a quiet few years, and the McCall Pack has grown and settled. But, when the Hale Pack return to Beacon Hills they find Scott isn't as welcoming as they had hoped. Soon they, Stiles, and Lydia, find out that not everything about the McCall Pack is as it has always seemed.

also if my fics make you sad then maybe write your own with all the characters that you want ❤

[masterlist link]

[starrdream]

Med bay shenanigans

Anakin Sykwaker x nurse!reader summary: Anakin seems to stumble into the med bay way too often.. includes: fluff

Anakin limped into the med bay with a dramatic wince, his right hand holding his left shoulder. You glanced up from your work, already rolling your eyes internally.

“Master Skywalker,” you greeted him, trying to keep a neutral expression. “What’s going on this time?”

Anakin gave you a pained look as he approached. “It’s bad, Y/n.” He said, wincing again for emphasis. “I think I’ve really done it this time. I can barely move it.”

Anakin was so over the top about it, and you’d seen him do the same thing too many times before. He was obviously faking it, but you decided to play along.

“Again? You’ve been here, what, three times this week already?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, let’s take a look then.”

Anakin carefully lowered himself onto one of the beds, his face twisted in discomfort, though it didn’t quite match his easy movements. He started to shrug off his robe, then tried his best to pull his shirt off without blowing his cover.

Nobody asked him to take any of his clothes off. Even if he was injured, he wouldn't need to do that.

He pulled one sleeve out before dragging the piece of clothing down his “injured” arm slowly, almost teasingly. You stared at him patiently, despite having a dozen other things to do instead of entertaining this behaviour.

You forcing your mind back to the task at hand. “Okay, let’s see...” you said, trying to sound professional as you gently guided his arm to examine his shoulder.

As your hands began to move his shoulder shoulder around, Anakin let out another exaggerated wince. “Oh yeah, it really hurts when I try to move it like this.” He said, his voice dripping with seriousness but not quite masking the playfulness.

“Hmm…It does feel a little stiff here.” You were teasing but kept your voice even and serious.

Anakin glanced at you, his eyes a little too bright. He leaned back a little, giving you the chance to examine him further. He lifted his arm slightly and flexed it—just enough for you to feel the raw muscle beneath.

“It hurts right here, too.” He added. “Can you feel that? Right there in my bicep. Maybe from all the training?”

You hummed, allowing him to place your hand over the tender-and completely fine-muscle.

“I see... Does this hurt too?” You squeezed his upper arm gently, pretending to give a massage of some sort.

He hisses dramatically, reaching over with his free hand to place over yours and stop the movement. He looks up at you with a Oscar worthy expression, full of pain and discomfort.

“Yeah..” He sighs defeatedly, shaking his head. “Feels a little hard, doesn't it?” He asks suddenly.

“Oh, yes, of course.” You nod, pretending to roll his shoulder around. You weren't stupid, you knew all he wanted was compliments on his physique. But hey, if that was gonna get him to stop disturbing your work-then so be it.

“Yeah, I'm glad we agree” He nodded again, pretending to think.

“I can't guarantee anything right now. I'll run some test and we'll go from there. You might need to lay off of training for a bit, just to be safe. You don’t want to make it worse.”

His face immediately fell, and you could see the flicker of genuine concern in his eyes.

You nodded, but the tiniest smile tugged at your lips. "Yeah, you should take it easy. It’s better to be safe."

Anakin’s eyes darted around, and for a split second, you saw genuine worry on his face. He shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe some painkillers or-”

You couldn’t help it anymore. You grinned and shook your head. “You were totally faking it, Anakin. I knew it.”

His eyes widened in surprise, and then he deflated, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Wait... you knew?” he asked, clearly caught off guard. “I thought I was being subtle.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Subtle? You’ve been in here more than once this week with a sore back, a bruised knee, and now a shoulder injury. It’s getting a little predictable.”

Anakin groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I wanted to spend time with you.” He muttered, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t think you’d catch on so quickly.”

You gave him a mock-serious look. “Could've just asked me out like a normal person instead of making a fool of yourself”

Anakin’s face flushed slightly, and he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. For a second, he looked down at the floor, trying to hide the embarrassed smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d say yes.” He muttered. “I thought maybe if I made it a bit… dramatic, you’d notice me more.”

You softened, a little more understanding now. You weren’t entirely surprised that he had trouble just being honest about how he felt. He always came across so confident, but underneath that, he was still figuring out how to navigate real emotions.

You gave him a pointed look. “You should probably start thinking of better ways to get my attention. I’m not exactly sold on your dramatic entrance.”

Anakin grinned, looking a little more like himself. “Yeah, I’ll work on that. How about a simple ‘would you like to go out sometime?’”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart warming at the way he was slowly letting down his guard. “That’s a start,” you said, giving him a playful nudge.

Anakin’s grin widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You shook your head, amused by his persistence. “You’re lucky I like you, Skywalker.”

[wholemeallbread]

... TOXIC BOYFRIENDS AND EXES / ꩜

with ... nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi x gn!reader

warnings ... cheating (rin), fem love interest (rin), lying (rin, isagi), parental issues-ish (isagi), nagi is just a bum (nagi), tiny emotional manipulation (isagi)

part one reo, sae, oliver

"SHE'S JUST A FRIEND" ��� ITOSHI RIN

you've known for quite a while that rin has had a... worrying childhood, to say the least. you're also aware that someone else has been his guiding light through his early teens, but is now long gone in the past. or that's what you thought. rin has been silent after hearing the news that his childhood "friend" recently moved back into town, but it's obvious that something else is going on.

especially when he's been visiting a certain house multiple times per week without telling you.

you've been aware of it for longer than he thinks. the moment you texted him "where are you?" instead of asking him to come home, he switched off sharing his location for good. he'll tell you he's just on a jog, but he's said it himself that he doesn't like bringing his phone because its too heavy. it becomes obvious when she starts coming to his games, waving and catching all of his attention while wearing one of his jerseys. you would know, because you accidentally stained one of them when you wore it.

even worse when his own brother that was miles away texted you, asking if you and rin were together. how did he even get your number? and why did rin not tell him you were already years deep into a relationship? oh, rin said he's stuck between the person he loves and the person he trusts? well, that shouldn't really be a question, should it? he should love and trust you, why is there somebody else that he could "pick"?

the break up was mutual. you could tell he was upset about it, but not as much as you, and you wonder why... maybe it's because he ended up in a relationship with said childhood friend only days later. you don't mean to pry in their business, but it's hard not to when you realise everywhere they go together, you've been with him before. this time, he's holding her hand, he's not hiding from the camera, he's smiling. rin has never smiled for you before. it hurts, it really hurts, but you're glad he didn't let things drag on. at least there's something left for you in his heart.

if he didn't love you in the first place, he should've just let you know from the beginning. it seems like you were some sort of test subject for his future.

BABY SYNDROME ꩜ NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi always puts in the bare minimum. you figured "maybe he puts in more effort for things he's passionate about?". well, one certainly is football; all of a sudden he has enough stamina to run a marathon and actually use his strength. since you're dating, he's passionate about you too, right?

keep lying to yourself. it's always you reaching out first, it's always you having to go to his house, it's always you waiting outside of his classrooms. on more than one occasion have you called him, been ignored under the thesis of "i'm too tired to talk, maybe tomorrow." and then being left on delivered for the next twenty four hours. and the cycle repeats over, and over, and over again. the last thing you wanted to end up being was a second reo (sorry to him, he's a lost cause) but when you're having to put his socks on for him like a toddler, unwillingly after he begs for help, that's where you draw the line. he's not a grandpa, and he's not sore. why would he need help?

it was unsurprisingly easy to break up with him. he let you go with ease, and it's not like he was going to argue to make him stay. one less person makes one less hassle, right? afterwards, it's inconvenience after inconvenience for him. now nobody wakes him up in the morning, or helps him with his missing homework, or does all of the work on group assignments so he can go "train". who's going to cook for him now? because it's not you or reo, and ordering takeaway is too much work.

nagi texted you to ask to get back together. you asked why. he said "it makes both of our lives easier". hell no.

MAMA'S BOY ꩜ ISAGI YOICHI

isagi is such a good boyfriend. honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he was the one you ended up marrying. he's sweet, his parents are sweet, everything was perfect. was perfect.

you don't know where or when you messed up, but isagi's mom doesn't seem to like you that much anymore. was it how you got awkward and didn't know how to respond? no, usually his dad helps you through conversations. were you a bad influence? no, surely not. isagi knows his own standards, and sometimes his attitude is worse than yours.

nowadays, isagi looks a bit nervous when you ask to come over. your usual routine together was completely disrupted. you can tell he's subtly avoiding you or keeping conversations brief. he doesn't even hold your hand when you're walking around school anymore. this man willingly used to sprint from your period to the other side of the school just to make sure you got to your class safely, and now, nothing. and why is he wiping his hands with disgust when he's the one sweating buckets? he would've apologised if it was his fault, so it's something to do with you.

"hey, so... my mom doesn't want us together..." well, excuse you? he's stuttering, trying to come up with excuses, but you don't even want to hear them. having your healthy relationship broken up by his mom? and what if you married him hypothetically? would he willingly divorce if his mom said to do it? you know he still loves you, judging from his longing glances and half smiles in your direction. you know it wasn't completely his decision. but if he really loved you, then creating a barrier between the two of you when she wasn't even around didn't make sense at all. he would risk his life for you, but not disobey her loose commands.

on some random important day, valentines or whatever, he tries to ask you out. he wants to "start over". can you even be angry when he looks so remorseful? coupled with flowers, your favourite sweet treats and everything... oh, you swear you can see tears in his eyes. maybe you'll think about it.

[sageo7]

ask and you shall recieve (regarding stiles req) anyway luv stiles seems like he'd be a munch if you feel me so maybe some stiles being annoyingly persistent in asking for a taste ... because he's a begging loser lol

thank god someone thinks like me ☺️ a bitch is sick so gonna start working through my requests !

it would be completely innocent at first, his head resting on your stomach while your fingers thread through his hair absentmindedly your other hand propping up a book while you read. he gets restless easily, practically trying to bury his face into you completely, arms wrapped securely around your waist. it doesn't take long before he's pressing kisses against your skin lifting the hem of your shirt to grant himself more access. you pause mid sentence to glance down at him curiously mumbling a small "what are you doing?"

he doesn't give you an answer just looking up with those puppy eyes, cheeks flushed scarlet. deep down you already know what he wants, it wasn't uncommon for him to just bury himself between your thighs for hours lapping at your cunt like he was utterly starved. you liked toying with him when he was like this though so you persist "i thought you wanted to cuddle?" you say feigning ignorance.

"please.." is all he murmurs out planting more kisses down your stomach "just.. wanna little taste"

you tut softly going back to your book like you hadn't heard him and that's how you really got him pleading.

"baby please.. just for a little" he borders on whining thumbs tracing small circles over your hip bones. "please."

the only answer you give him is spreading your legs slightly wider nose still buried between the pages. he doesn't hesitate for even a second fingers hooking in the hem of your sleep shorts dragging them down and groaning at the lack of panties. now stiles usually takes his time, making sure to tease and mark you as much as he can but something has him completely impatient this time. his tongue instantly finds your wetness licking a long stripe up and sighing contentedly into your pussy. he works languidly, really savoring the feeling of tracing through your folds and suckling at your clit every so often. with shaky hands you give in setting the book aside and carding your hands through his hair again making his eyes lock onto yours as he continues his ministrations. he was practically drooling into your cunt wetness smeared around his lips and down his chin. his tongue prods at your entrance gently before just shoving in fully making soft moans of bliss fall from both of you. his grasp wanders from your thighs up to your tits grabbing at the soft flesh desperately while he babbles out incoherent praises into your pussy. your thighs start to shake involuntarily and you can feel yourself start to tip over the edge making it your turn to spew pleas and desperate versions of "I'm close" while tugging at the hair locked in your grasp. even after you finally reach that peak stiles lapping up every drop you give him he doesn't stop. he's too pussy drunk to register the sounds of your complaints and protests, instead just spreading you a little wider for him so he can keep going how he pleases.

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Viktor x Reader Headcanons

Pronouns for reader: Gender neutral, AFAB undertones if you squint

Relationship type: Platonic to Romantic

General Idea: Some silly little headcanons I have for Viktor because he's still my silly little princess. Even after the whole glorious evolution thing.

Content Warnings: S1 Viktor, no S2 spoilers, But there as little bit of s2 viktor's mindset, I'm projecting a little bit (a lot) but it's fine.

~☆~

I honestly see Viktor as asexual with light aromantic undertones (kinda like demiromantic, I guess??). He rarely ever developes romantic feelings. Like its a once in a blue moon thing.

Like... he has to know you for YEARS before something in his head is like "Oh... hey they kinda cute?"

However, when he DOES develop feelings that go beyond friendship, Viktor HEAVILY struggles with coming to terms with them. Not in like a "I don't DO feelings" type way, but more in a "Well... no... it could be this" type of way.

Oh, his heart rate speeds up a little bit when you two accidently brush hands? It must just be his nerves.

When he does realize that he has feelings for someone, it's kind of like that scene in Gravity Falls where Dipper is like "It's not like I stay awake at night thinking about Wendy" and it cuts to him laying awake thinking about Wendy XD

If he likes someone romantically, he talks about them a lot. Like as if trying to bring them up as much as he can. Like "Oh (Y/N) mentioned something about that book, said they really liked it" Or "(Y/N) actually said something similar about that topic" If he could yap about you for hours, he probably would.

Even if you're being PAINFULLY obvious about your romantic feelings towards Viktor, he will firmly believe you're just being friendly.

Why he does it is a mix between two things: one is that he's just not awesome with people. And second is that he firmly believes someone like you could never love someone like him back.

One night, Viktor had been constantly working without break, so you practically dragged him to his room by his ear and forced him to get some rest.

Viktor has a strong habit of having his workspace FILLED with old mugs, sometimes days old. He doesn't really mean to, just too wrapped up in Hextech to really notice.

He also struggles with meals too. Just like above, because he literally just gets too wrapped up in his work.

If Viktor actually confesses feelings, it's such an interesting experience. Because he doesn't just flat out say "Hey I have feelings for you". He stumbles over his words and rambles about something random in the middle of it. So you gotta help him out a little bit.

Viktor's love language is quality time. He'll make sure his seat is next to you when it can, he always yaps about what he's uncovered about Hextech.

Speaking of Hextech, if you just sit there and watch him work? He'd about die of happiness on the spot. If you, someone he really loved, took an interest to something he truly loved DOING? Perfect.

He used to get really flustered about physical affection. Like you held his hand one time and he about combusted. He was red in the face for hours. He got better with it overtime, of course. But for the first few months, he was pretty much bright red the whole time.

Dates are rare, neither of you have the time for it. But when you two do have dates of some kind, they're mostly stay at home type things.

You know that thing kids do? Like playing their own separate things together? Parallel play, I think it's called? Yeah you two do that a lot.

Viktor will be reading some papers and you'll be reading a book, your feet in his lap.

Speaking of, Viktor is such a reader omg He doesn't read a lot anymore due to his constant workload, but when he does, he reads a lot of like... old books. The ones with yellowing pages and smell nice? Yeah... those ones!

If you two slept in the same bed, he'd be all like... giggly and nervous the first few times. Just like affection, he'd get used to it. But it's still cute.

When you two are cuddling, run your fingers in his hair. He'll melt right into you regardless of the situation. It's like an instant relax button for him.

Him laying his head on your chest, and you running your fingers through his hair? Something about it just... works. It calms him down a lot and makes him feel at peace.

His favorite place to kiss is the crook of your neck. Especially if you're around his height (he's like... between 5'7 and 5'10. I don't remember exactly).

Or your temples. It's simple, it doesn't attract a lot of attention. And let's be real, it's underrated as hell.

He's not big on PDA, but he'll hold your hand in public. He likes holding onto just one of your fingers, like your pinkie or something like that. It, just like temple kisses, is simple and discreet.

He doesn't often say "I love you". He feels bad about it, but you don't mind. He often says I love you without saying it. Things like holding you while you sleep, kissing your forehead as you two read in each other's arms, weaving your fingers with his while he works.

He gets self-conscious a lot. He thinks you could do a lot better than him and that he's not perfect.

Please kiss this poor boy all over and tell him he's perfect as is 😭😭

~☆~

A/N:The Arcane brainrot has gotten to me... This is how I'm coping with the finale. But I've wanted to write Viktor or Sevika stuff for a HOT minute now. I've been in the Arcane fandom for YEARS (a fanfic writer even longer) but this is my first Arcane fic... wild XD

For more fics: my masterlist!

~Squeed

[rottiens]

✮ tags. (18+), fem!reader, bf!geto, established relationship, domesticity and fluff, reverse comfort if you squint, cockwarming, petnames (baby).

✮ wc. 1.5K

✮ notes. guys...I swear I didn't mean to do this smut, I swear this was going to be fluff,,

"Hey."

Suguru calls out to you from the door of the shared room, his shoes absent, his white shirt unbuttoned —his chest exposed to your eyes, very few scars, the one or two moles and a marked abdomen, along with a path of curly, dark hairs ending where his pants begin— as he carries his uniform jacket on his forearm.

Your eyes filled with life, you've been waiting for him all day.

"Come here," you call him softly towards the bed patting the mattress, setting the cursed techniques book aside to focus on him.

Suguru shuffles his steps across the floor of the room, his shoulders are slightly down, his hair as he approaches you can see it getting more and more disheveled, loose strands sticking out from every corner of the perfect bun that once existed.

"What happened?" You question him, Suguru was at that point crawling his body to the mattress like a worm. His face remains just above your bare thighs as he looks up at you from below with eyes full of love, your fingers comb a lock back behind his ear. "I only missed one day and this is your state, huh? You missed me that much?"

Suguru rolls his eyes, then closes them, letting himself be dragged down by the weight of exhaustion. His long arms wrap around your waist and you lie like that for a while, so silent you think he's fallen asleep until his raspy voice shakes you, taking you by surprise.

"I'm tired."

"You want to talk about your day?"

Another grunt. "It's just that being a teacher is harder than I thought."

"This is only your second week." You speak in the same sleepy tone as he does, almost as if you're seeking not to wake him up.

"Satoru makes it look so easy," he says, still with his eyes closed.

"You know this is fun for him. He doesn't take it as seriously as you do." You try to comfort him, still massaging his skull.

You get a glint from his brown eyes as he opens one eye for you, squeezing the other.

"Baby."

"Hm?"

"I'm getting hard." You stop yourself from stroking him all at once, he moans. "Don't stop. I'm sorry."

"I thought you were tired." You were confused… this wasn't unusual but still, you couldn't help but frown somewhat incredulously.

"And I am… but I'm so stressed lately, I'm late from killing curses and you're not here, I get up early and you're not in bed and, ugh."

"Hm?" you insist.

"I've been thinking about you all day," Suguru sighs.

You swallow, nervous because you know where this road leads —you've lived it a hundred times already— your caresses become a little unsteady in his hair and Suguru notices, drawing a smile in his unconscious. Your skin feels very sensitive to his touch, his warm fingers hugging your skin where the pajama top can't cover.

"What have you been thinking?" you venture to ask.

"You know exactly what I've been thinking," he murmurs, scrunching his face against the warm flesh of your thighs. "About you, about your hugs, about your mouth, about your kisses, about your hands on me…"

Suguru opens his eyes wide, smiling without showing his teeth and your heart, never able to have adjusted to his effect, leaps. He leaves the comfort of your lap to get up, Suguru throws his shirt on the floor and settles on the bed to wrap his arms around you from behind, you arrange your body so that the two of you form a perfect arc.

You knew what that position meant, but as if Suguru thought you were in doubt, he adds, "Let's get some sleep."

Are you sure?" It was six o'clock in the evening, sleep now meant waking up like wide-eyed owls in the wee hours of the morning. It meant making coffee to keep you awake until you had to go to work again because there was no way you could fall asleep again.

"Just a little bit," he says, not mentally reasoning the same points you are. You let it go because he really feels exhausted and you know what it means to him in that state to have your him keep you close.

Suguru settles in better behind you, his strong arms holding you close to his body, impossible to escape even if you wanted to. His face is hidden in your neck and the warmth of your boyfriend after so many days of being away feels good, his hands are on your tummy making circles that lead you to close your eyes.

Suguru moves closer to you, and though his breath on your skin makes you want everything more than sleep you try for at least a couple of long minutes, until you feel his arms stir like snakes in your body and move up to your breasts and squeeze. You lie still, wondering if he did it out of inertia until he does it a second time.

You groan, inevitably pushing into him, bumping into an erection that digs hard against your ass.

His calloused fingers search for your nipples on the fabric finding them instantly hard. Suguru sighs deep in your throat, squeezing your body a little tighter, the tips of his pearly teeth grazing your flesh.

"I thought you were sleepy…" you moan, throwing your head back, giving him the space he needs to suck on your skin.

"Shh," he shushes you with another insensitive squeeze to your nipples, Suguru didn't used to be so rough, but his actions only hid behind the desire when he missed you.

His fingers enter through your top and fiddle with your nipples, playing with them back and forth. You both continue the game for a while longer, him squeezing and tugging at them, you rubbing against his hard cock directly ruining your pajamas thanks to the non-existence of your panties.

"Put it in," you barble full of ecstasy, you feel him grinning near your collarbone.

"Already?"

"Yes, hurry."

"Are you wet?" he doesn't let you answer as he keeps talking— "Let me see… No panties," suguru emphasizes. Without asking permission, he reaches through the elastic of your shorts and positions himself with his middle finger between the soggy folds of your pussy. He rubs your clit, you blindly reach for his erection in an awkward position where you throw your arm back but he stops it; ceasing to knead your breasts to make it prisoner against your back.

You moan, wanting to touch him too, but all prayer is half-hearted the moment his hooked fingers expand your pussy. Suguru is fucking it with his digits, you are obscenely wet, you soak him to the knuckles, staining your own thighs in the process and the room fills with the sticky 'click click click' sounds along with the chorus of needy moans.

Suguru kisses your wet temple.

"I missed you," he admits, increasing the rhythm, his wrist beginning to cramp.

"I missed you more! Suguru.. stop, I don't want to-!"

You try to stop him by pushing his hand away from you but this doesn't help much.

"Condom," he says through gritted teeth.

"We don't have…" you hate yourself at that moment for forgetting to buy but he hates himself more.

Reluctantly Suguru pulls his fingers out of you.

"Fuck it," Suguru growls. You hear him unzip and pull down his uniform pants, just enough to pull his cock out. "Let me fuck you like this…" he asks, taking your cheek and pulling it apart, exposing your ass and pussy from behind, Suguru spits on his hand and fucks the swollen tip of his cock for a while, just watching you dripping and squeezing around nothing. "I'm gonna pull out.." Suguru promises falsely.

"Hm," you nod looking back spreading your legs wider for him.

You feel him at your entrance, rubbing all over your wet slit with his even wetter head. Suguru taps your sensitive clit with his stiff cock and slides in one shot inside you before you have time to beg him.

You can feel him trembling and it's desperate. He doesn't move and you want to scream.

"Baby…" you call out to him, looking back up at him and he tastes the desperation in your broken voice.

"Let's sleep like this." Suguru wraps his arms around your waist again to the same innocent position as before, only now you can feel it throb and fill you to a point where you can't breathe.

"Babe…" you call out to him again, this time he spanks you lightly.

"Don't move, you're going to make me cum."

"Suguru…" You whimper a third time and he mischievously gives a deep thrust of his hips.

"Stay still. Let me feel you." He returns to his original spot, massaging your breasts and tugging on your nipples, you moan.

"I love you," you sob, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you needed to stimulate your clit, that it was throbbing and that you clearly weren't going to be able to sleep.

For a brief flash you imagine if you could make yourself cum silently.

[dollfacefantasy]

If you still write for jjk you should write for nanami blindfolding you with his tie :3

kento nanami x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, blindfold, daddy kink/ddlg, brat taming, overstimulation a/n: i totally still write for jjk <3

"ken..." you whimper as your bottom lip juts out into a wobbly pout.

he hums in acknowledgement. a short, low sound that doesn't offer much sympathy or relief to your problem. you're sure his face reflects the same mood. you can imagine it now - that flat line his lips settle into, the unyielding nature of his eyes. if only his stupid tie wasn't wrapped around your head, then you'd actually be able to see it.

"what is it, sweetheart?" he asks, as if he doesn't know. as if he's not the one who tied the knot at the back of your skull.

"i wanna- wanna see you," you plead. your voice breaks between words. it's hard to get out a coherent sentence while he's teasing you down below.

every few seconds, he drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds. the leaky head nudges your sensitive little clit, drawing more whines from you. he won't stop, but he also won't slip it in. and you're pretty sure your lack of sight only makes the feeling more severe.

you're already all twitchy. the aftershocks of overstimulation still fizzle around in your tummy. he'd spent the last however-long devouring you, lapping at your cunt until you were begging for mercy. now he has you spread out before him. a pile of pillows supports your upper-half while his body between your legs keeps them nice and wide for him.

"i told you what the price would be if you acted up," he says coolly. "you know not to bother me when i'm working."

"but they already make you work so much. why do you gotta do work at home?" you say.

"it doesn't matter why. the reason why doesn't change the fact that i told you i needed some time to finish things up," he says.

"i'm sorry," you whimper. you want to squirm so bad, but you know it'll only get you in deeper trouble. "i just missed you."

"hmm. well, what else did i tell you?" he asks, leading you into answering away your chances at redemption.

"that you would spend the rest of the night with me when you were done..." you respond. the will to argue fades with every word.

"that's right. i told you that you would have all my attention as soon as i finished. but you couldn't be patient, so now as soon as i'm done with you, i'll have to go back in there and stay up for another hour to get it done."

not seeing kento's eyes right now is killer. you can't plead your case as well without your vision. you can't gauge his reactions or predict his next move. and without eye contact, his tone is so much more biting. it actually puts some shame into you. maybe that's why he's doing it...

"i'm sorry," you say for what feels like the fiftieth time tonight. "i know i should've left you alone. i just really missed you. you've been gone so much this week. you know i get a little stupid without you looking out for me..."

"don't give me that. don't try and blame your bad behavior on stupidity," he scolds. "you're a smart girl. you don't get stupid. you get bratty."

and with that, he rocks his hips forward, sliding his cock into you.

your back arches off the mattress, and you gasp at the unexpected intrusion. he pushes all the way inside in one go, not being gentle or giving you time to adjust to his size like he usually does. you whine at first, but the sound melts down into a pitiful symphony of whimpers. your body is on fire, burning in the best possible way. you're aching with sensitivity yet yearning for more all at the same time.

"mhm. my sweet, bratty girl. you're not dumb. you just choose not to think. you want what you want, and you believe you deserve it whenever it is that you want it," kento continues to lecture.

you feel the pressure of his palms dipping the mattress on either side of your head. your wish for the blindfold to come off gets even more intense as images of his flexing biceps and strong forearms fill your head.

"you don't care about my time or what i'm doing," he says with a particularly deep thrust.

you moan and grab at his shoulders. even though you can't see, you know exactly where they are and what they feel like.

"i- i do care. i-" you try to defend yourself. but he cuts you off with a sharp tug of your hips, spearing you further on his length and making you yelp.

"shhh, shhh. no more excuses," he hushes. his pelvis rolls against you rhythmically, thrusting his cock nice and deep every time. "you were a bad girl earlier, and nothing you say will change that."

a little cry escapes you upon hearing that. nothing you say? nothing can make it better?! so you're just supposed to accept the eternal damnation that is him considering you a bad girl? you can't. your eyes water under the silky fabric of the blindfold.

"but daddy," you whine, the title slipping out under the pressure of both your emotions and physical pleasure, "i don't want you to be mad at me."

"i'm not mad at you," he says simply. "i just want you to understand the consequences of your actions."

kento always wins at this game. it's just not fair. you got all whiny and needy so he'd do this, but of course, he had to do it in a way to make you genuinely regret it.

"you miss me, and you feel neglected, don't you? but instead of talking that out with me like a big girl, you get so fussy and throw a fit. and that never works out for you, does it?" he continues.

you shake your head, lip quivering. your too spun out of place for words.

"mhm, so next time, what are you gonna do?" he asks.

"use my words," you whimper.

"that's my good girl," he praises.

his thrusts are still deep and evenly-paced, but he's starting to pick up some speed now. you loop your arms around his neck, pulling him down close as can be. he reciprocates your desire for closeness with a tight hold on your waist.

he lays some kisses on your face. you feel his lips pepper over your cheeks and jaw, past the strap of silk and up to your hairline. every touch lets you know without words that he still loves you and you're still his even when you act up.

it's easy for you to fall over the edge. you were already half way there at the start from the overstimulation. but kento cums too after a few more breathless pumps. he grips you tight and buries his face in your neck, letting out a deep groan against your skin.

you feel his warmth flood you, and your eyes flutter. he fucks the ropes of cum into you, thrusting erratically against your center.

when he's all spent, he stays on top of you for a few moments, just basking in the afterglow. but once he's come down enough, he starts peeling himself off of your body. he pulls out and sits up beside you.

the first thing he does is pull his tie of your head. he unties the knot with his nimble fingers and then lays it on the nightstand. after that he gets up and goes through the normal routine - puts some clothes on, cleans you up, gets you tucked in.

only this time, he doesn't join you in bed. he stands at the edge, petting your head. you look up at him with guilty eyes.

"do you really have to do it tonight?" you ask.

he nods. "i want you to get some rest. i'll be back by the time you wake up. think about this before you try distracting me again," he murmurs.

he kisses your forehead once more before shutting off the light and slipping out of your bedroom to head down the hall towards his office.

[arietem]

you're a damn fine bartender

masterlist

jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: after your first meeting with jj leaves you aching for more, you find yourself at the country club where jj is the bartender

this is part two of you + me + the bathroom all thanks to @angvl3tears, much lovee darling

smut and suggestive content

You are at the country club, absent-mindedly twirling the straw around your drink, bored out of your mind. Usually, you're not one to hang out here, but every once in a while, your mom drags you here to show face. Whatever the fuck that means.

You are seconds away from excusing yourself to the ladies' room when you look up and, well, well, who do we have here? JJ Maybank, working the bar. Now that you really think about it, you have heard something about him being the bartender here. Maybe that's why you didn't object too much when you were ordered to come along with your mom and her fake friends.

"I'll just go get a refill," you say, motioning to your glass as you get up from your seat. There's no response as everyone is seemingly very interested in this year's landscaping trends. Whatever, it's even better if they don't notice you're not there.

Deciding to just go for it, you make your way toward the bar, fluffing up your hair and straightening out your shirt as you go. For days after that fucking party, you couldn't get his face out of your mind. His blissed out expression as he was cumming inside you was tattooed on the inside of your eyelids.

JJ is cleaning something behind the bar, his back to you. He seems to be focused on having the glasses be the shiniest they've ever been because he doesn't hear you walking over. You take the stool in the middle and cross your arms on the bar top, the leather beneath your ass feeling stiff.

"So, what's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?" you say with a playful tone, flashing him your sexiest smirk when he turns around. JJ's eyes widen and sparkle in recognition once he takes a good look at you. His white work shirt is cuffed to the elbows, exposing strong forearms. This time, his messy blond hair is lightly slicked back, restrained to be up to par with the so-called classiness of the place.

You much prefer his chaos to this dimmer appearance, though. Even if his ass must look delicious in the black slacks, mandatory bartender uniform. "Didn't peg you to be a Kook, darlin'," JJ drawls, cleaning a glass. Just his voice is already doing its thing to you.

You squirm a little on the stool, crossing your legs, trying to keep the heat from spreading throughout your body. "That's because I'm not a Kook," you reply, flicking your hair over your shoulder. JJ's eyes follow your movements, his lips twitching. You aren't a Kook and you aren't a Pogue either, always somewhere in the middle, or on the outskirts rather. Hence, why your mom is trying to win over those stuck-up women.

"Yeah? Coulda fooled me, hanging out here with those ladies." He bends down, takes another glass, and starts to wipe that one too. With every pass of the rag, his arms flex, reminding you of what they were doing to you a few weeks ago.

You roll your eyes, tracing the bar with your fingers, your long nails tapping gently on the marble top. JJ licks his lips once and puts the rag away. "My mom wants to be one of them all of a sudden, for some unknown reason." You tilt your head a little, as if you are debating on something. "I think she's just lonely."

As JJ looks at you intently, you are trying to figure out what lucky star is shining on you to have his attention again. Even though you aren't friends and don't run in the same circles, you've always known about him. He never noticed you, though, always too busy with being a rebel or an adventurer or a heartbreaker. Well, not until that fateful moment in the bathroom anyway. Now you feel weirdly in the spotlight.

You wave your hand at him, your bracelets clanking together. "Let's not talk about that."

JJ leans closer to you over the bar and says in a low voice, "what should we talk about then?"

You remember what he said about you being a good girl. Desperately, you want to hear him say something like that again. You glance back at your table, your mom and the others still talking animatedly. Slowly, you bring your finger to his bicep and start drawing imaginary circles. "We don't have to talk at all," you whisper, leaning on your elbows more, showing off your cleavage. "I was such a good girl, you know?"

JJ takes in a quick breath, and you can literally see his pupils get bigger. He starts to walk toward the back area of the bar, shooting you a look over his shoulder, his order clear. With a smile to yourself, you eagerly obey, jumping off the stool.

You slip behind the bar in the employees-only area and spot JJ leaning on one of the fridges. The swinging door closes behind you, and all the noise quiets down. Walking toward him, you tie your hair up in a ponytail. Without any words, you kneel down, your hands coming to caress his thighs, slowly traveling up to his ass.

You were so right, his ass is delicious in these black slacks. When your fingers reach his belt buckle, JJ hisses and grabs the back of your neck. He starts lightly pressing into the knots of your neck and shoulders. You work on his buckle and zipper, lowering his pants. JJ's already hard, his dick straining against his boxers.

Your hand goes under your skirt, where your underwear is wet already, too. Guess both of you are still worked up over the bathroom encounter. JJ confirms so, saying "couldn't stop thinking about that sweet pussy, baby. Damn, was wishin' to see you again."

"I was wishing to have this cock in my mouth," you shoot right back. You bite your lower lip, and JJ follows the movement. "I wanna feel you everywhere, JJ." Finally, you take him out, stroking from the tip all the way to his balls. Your thumb circles his tip, spreading the precum. Your mouth is watering at the sight of it, so you spit on him and spread that with your fingers.

JJ's hand tightens around you, his head falling back, a moan escaping him. "Oh, m'gonna fill that filthy mouth, sweetheart," he says, his voice rough. Your pussy clenches, liking the sound of that, liking it very much.

"Eyes on me, Maybank," you say, and slowly take him in your drooly mouth. His head straightens, and his face is flushed, a smirk on his lips. You fix your eyes on his, not breaking contact while you work on taking more and more of him inside. He's big and thick, and you struggle to take as much as you can. You don't want to gag, not yet, so your eyes fill with tears, one escaping from the corner.

"I think you can take more, baby," JJ says when he notices the tear rolling down your cheek. His hands go from the back of your neck to your ponytail, pushing just slightly, but enough to bring his dick even further inside your warm mouth. He's at the back of your throat now, and you can't help but gag on it, more tears trickling from your eyes.

"Oh, fuck, that feels g-good, " he stutters. You hum and moan against his cock, knowing the right tricks to bring him closer to busting. One of your hands travels upward to scratch against his abs, and the other cups his balls. JJ whimpers and whines, the sounds echoing against the metal of the fridge. You hope everyone can hear you, you wish you can set his whimpers as your ringtone.

"Touch yourself for me, baby." You take off your hand from his abs and start circling your clit, already swollen and ready. Collecting some of the moisture from your pussy, you take those fingers and wrap them around the base of his dick, slicking it and stroking him some more.

JJ's moans are now broken and deep, your touching and sucking bringing him to the edge. With another grunt, he explodes in your mouth and you do your best to swallow it, but some of his cum spills down your chin, the stickiness spreading down your neck. You release his cock from your mouth and smile up at him, your eyes still glassy from the tears, mascara all over.

The way he looks at you stops your breath halfway, and you have to cough a little and swallow thickly, your mind hazy and filled with lust.

Of course, just in that moment, you hear somebody calling your name, probably your mom, though the sound is muffled. This time, you have to run, so you quickly get up off the floor, wipe the excess makeup, and blow a kiss in JJ's direction. Hopefully, this is the last time your hookup gets cut short. Third time has to be the charm.