#some kinda fucking weird fanfic or something'

[maeedrg]

NEW PIERCINGS ?

Gojo x nipples pierced reader

ᯓ★

Synopsis : in which reader just got her nipples pierced, and wants to make it a surprise to her boyfriend. Well, he really liked it.

Words count : 3k

Warnings : fluff, swearing, smut, reader is fem, nipple play, half public sex, squirting, p in v, pet names, kinda jealous Gojo ?

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I got my nipples pierced this weekend, so I needed to do a fanfic about it.

｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆｡⋆✧⋆˚｡⋆⋆ ｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆

Ouch. It’s so damn sensitive. Why is it so cold outside, anyways ? And the damn wind that goes through your clothes and hardens your nipples really wasn’t what you needed right now. Barely some minutes ago, you went to your favorite piercing shop, and got your breast pierced. On both sides. The fresh jewel on your flesh that gets colder because of the wind, reminds you how sensitive the area was for now. You sigh, sucking up a breath and deciding to look at your phone. You didn’t answer the texts of your boyfriend, after all. But you had a good reason. These new piercings were a surprise ! 

From ‘ Kakashi 2.0 : 

“I just ate 11 mochis, my belly hurts”

“nevermind I have room for more lol”

seen

“uh why aren’t you answering your beautiful boyfriend…. the fuck”

“alright girl in what position you guys are”

“HEY ARE YOU DEAD ?!!!!”

“The way I’m going to hollow purple this bitch you are with if you don’t answer right now”

seen

Oh oh. You can’t stop yourself from having a laugh escaping your lips. Both from silliness at Satoru’s text, and from nervousness. Yeah, maybe you did ignore him for half of the day… But hey, your excuses are valid ! And you didn’t think he would notice, since today he had a busy schedule, normally. As you walk back home, a bit like a truck, to avoid your clothes from brushing too often your nipples and the pain that comes with it, you decide to text back your boyfriend. The moment you start to type, suddenly two long arms wrap around your stomach and smash you against the chest of someone. You open wider your eyes, startled, but quickly relax when you recognize this familiar cologne that you love oh so much.

“Police, got the cheater ! What can you say to defend yourself, baby, uh ? I bet he didn’t even fuck you that well,” exclaims Satoru’s voice in your ear, pouting slightly and when you turn your head you can imagine how his eyebrows frown behind his blindfold.

“You scared me here !” you answer, breathing back normally and keeping your body rigid. Without knowing, the way he was hugging you from behind made the tissue of your clothes tighter. Which means hurting your sensitive breast. You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid hissing of pain.

“You are the one that scared me ! Why didn’t you answer for so long ? Didn’t you say you had nothing to do today, and would stay at home ?” continues your boyfriend, frowning and looking at you up and down. He directly notices how your body is tense. Weird…

“I wasn’t cheating on you, you idiot. But sorry for not answering, I had something to do,” you answer vaguely, taking off his arms from your waist. At first he keeps his iron grip around you, but sighs and loosen his hands when seeing your discomfort.

“Awww, you’re so mean. I still manage to text you when I’m killing curses, so what got you so busy to not be able to do it for a whole afternoon ?” he asks, pouting even more as he slides his hand in the small of your back while walking next to you towards your shared apartment.

You couldn’t tell him that you were occupied with going to the piercing shop (which was a bit far away from home), waiting your turn, then getting pierced, and everything that comes with it until… now. Yeah, it took longer than you thought. 

“Well, I'll tell you later,” you simply answer. Satoru opens his mouth and closes it back, frowning more and tightening his fingers on your hip. You open the door of the building at the same time, and he whines.

“What do you mean ? Is it a new way to torture me by testing my patience ?”

“Poor baby. The Great Gojo Satoru gets bullied by his girlfriend,” you roll your eyes saying that, grabbing his arm to pull him towards you and kiss his cheek. He immediately grins back at the contact of your lips against his cold skin.

“You gotta tell me quickly, then. If you don’t want to face the wrath of The Strongest…” he jokes, before taking your face and chastly kissing your lips mischievously. 

“I’m shaking from fear…” you tease back against his mouth.

A bit later, and after some silly back and forth, you force your boyfriend to wait in the bedroom while you go to the bathroom. Indeed, before showing him your surprise, you needed first to clean it from the small amount of dried blood. Even if Satoru was used to seeing gruesome things everyday, you insisted in your mind that you didn’t want it to be his first impression of your new decorated nipples. So you carefully wash them, with delicacy and care. You hiss slightly, trying to not move too much the jewel, the sensitivity of your skin making it a hard task. Once you are done, you put back your shirt on top and exit the washroom. 

At the sound of the door opening and closing, Satoru perks up and straightens back his seat on the bed. He looks at you, legs sprayed on manspread as he puts down his phone to the side.

“Took you long enough,” he complains.

“Don’t pout. Now are you ready to know the reason why your amazing girlfriend ignored you all afternoon ?” you ask teasingly, tilting your head to the side.

The white haired man quickly nods, eager to know. He even was bouncing his leg up and down, clearly impatient to finally have his answer. You smile, wider, and lift your shirt, exposing to your boyfriend your pierced nipples. Satoru pauses, and then slowly lifts his blindfold to reveal his blue eyes. The look on his face was something you needed to remember. You could feel his Six Eyes staring right back at your chest. 

“No way….” he whispers, cheeks slightly turning red and a cheeky grin forming on his lips as his pupils swing left and right to look at both.

“Yes way. You like it ?” 

He suddenly brings you closer, making you stand in between his legs as he analyzes your breast. He knew it like the palm of his hand, but he needed to discover it all over again now. He was fascinated, intrigued, biting his lower lip in excitement.

“I fucking love it. That’s so hot ! Why didn’t you tell me ? I would have come with you !” he cheers as he looks up at your face, then back down, then your face, then down. His long fingers help you remove your shirt completely, having free rein to touch your skin and admire your torso.

“I wanted to surprise you, that’s why,” you explain.

“Did it hurt ?” Satoru asks as his left thumb softly caresses the bottom of your breast, while the right one brushes your ribs.

“Yeah. But it was quick, to be honest. So it wasn’t that bad. But it’s very sensitive right now, even the brush of clothes can be uncomfortable or hurtful,” you describe as you recall the feeling of the needle, and how a hassle it was to walk down the street with your shirt and jacket touching them every second. 

“Sensitive, uh ?” he muses, his fingers about to touch your bundle of nerves, but you quickly snap it away. He pouts at your glare.

“Nuh-uh. No touching. Your hands aren’t washed, and it will hurt. Plus, I have to avoid touching the jewel or moving it as much as I can for one month,” you quickly explain, facing the sulking face of your man-child boyfriend. He opens wider his eyes at your words.

“One month ?!”

“One month, yes. My piercer said too that I can’t have any contact with… a mouth on it. For at least one month.”

The moment you say that, you see all colors leaving the already pale skin of Satoru. He couldn’t believe it. One of his favorite activities, which was sucking on your tits when having sex, was taken away from him. No way, no way ! He was doomed, cursed ! At what cost ? He couldn’t deny, it looked incredibly hot. But by seeing them, it made him crave touching them, toying with them, and exploring this new aspect of possible sensitivity on your body. That was like a new game to him ! And damn, he couldn’t even play with it for at least one month. That was hell on earth. Alright, maybe he was being a bit melodramatic right now. But Satoru liked to exaggerate when he couldn’t have what he wanted right on the spot.

“Y/n, you’re killing me here. That’s too looooong !”

“You gotta wait, love. Safety first,” you retort, shaking your head as he sighs theatrically, letting his face be buried in your stomach.

“I promise, when it’s healed enough, I’ll play with your tits so much you’ll cry for me to stop,” he pouts, muttering that, gazing back up at your face. You chuckle, caressing his hair. He really was a menace.

“Hey, don’t make me suffer here. I’m just doing what my piercer told me to do. He was clear about no contact-”, you start to say, before Satoru cuts you in the middle of your sentence, “he ?!”. 

You roll your eyes, trying to not laugh at his over exaggerated facial reaction. “Yes Satoru, he.”

“I can’t believe that you betrayed me like that… First you cheat on me with your piercer, and now I can't suck your tits for one month. What a tragedy ! The downfall of The Strongest…” he exclaims, dramatically falling backwards on the mattress behind him, bringing you to straddle him while he puts his free hand over his forehead as if he just fainted. 

“It’s literally his job ! You really are a drama queen…” you slightly chuckle, flocking his forehead and he whines at the pain. When he was with you, he really reminded you of a husky. Always being loud over every tiny inconvenience, or just any situation, to be honest.

“Well, maybe I can’t suck on the gorgeous boobs of my girlfriend, but I can still eat her out. Right ?” he suddenly states, lifting himself on his elbow and eying you down with his stupid wolfish grin of his. 

“Well, technically yes, but I didn’t shower so-”

“Perfect then !” he interrupts you as he flips you over, gently actually, to be sure to not hurt you, and then in a swift movement takes off your pants and pry open your thighs.

“Satoru, I still didn’t have time to shower !”

“You think I care ?” he answers as if you just said the dumbest thing ever, bringing your leg over his shoulder and kissing the inside of your flesh.

“Satoru…”

“That would be my distraction for one month, deal ?” he asks, eyes meeting yours as he kisses the top of your panties.

Oh, you were in for a ride. Of his face. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

Heavens could be applause, time has come. You finally, finally could go back to your… activities with Satoru, as your piercings were healed enough. Through the weeks of healing, you realized that the myth of having this area pierced could possibly bring a higher sensitivity wasn’t fake. And your boyfriend was adamant on testing that right now. He was eager, way too eager, maybe. Satoru couldn’t wait, to the point that when you gave him the green light this morning by text, he decided that the moment he would finish his daily missions of exorcizing curses, he would do it.

Hell, he was being for real ! You were walking in the corridor of the campus, when a tall figure teleported right in front of you. You lift your head, a bit startled, and sigh when you realize it simply was your boyfriend.

“Satoru ? You already finished your miss- ah !” you get cut off the moment he grabs your legs and swings you over his shoulder, lifting you up and carrying you like that without a care in the world. His hand slaps your butt, staying on it to keep you steady as you now are hanging over him.

“I made it quick,” he simply answered in a tone of voice that meant business. Oh, the tension was high, very high.

He opens the door of an empty classroom, and closes it swiftly behind him, locking it in a soft thud. He puts you down on a table, looming over you.

“Love, it’s a classroom, what if some students enters-”

“Nobody will, I made sure of that,” he answers quickly, taking off his blindfold and looking at you with such hungry eyes that you shiver. Oh, the man was starved. 

He unbuttons your jacket and throws it on a chair, before doing so with your shirt while he smashes his lips against yours, not letting you answer him. There was no time to even talk, his mouth was eager. Why talking, anyways ? When he could instead please you like you both dreamed since the night you came back home with your little… surprise.

 His lips were moving against yours with need, and in no time you felt his cold fingers cup your breast. He presses himself in between your thigh, and at the same time his thumb caresses your hardened nipple, toying finally with the jewel. You open your eyes at the feeling, and let out a strangled moan of surprise. Fuck, it indeed was more sensitive than you remember it being before. After so long, this area was damn touch starved. And God, how good it felt, and that just from a small tiny touch.

He smiles against your lips, and presses his hard crotch against yours. Painfully hard, actually. Satoru bites your lower lip as he pinches your bundle of nerves, his other hand doing the same on the right side. His tongue invades your mouth and you quickly start to feel overwhelmed. He swallows your sweet moans of pleasure and whines of relief at the sensation. It started to feel warm, and you wanted more stimulation. Why was it so exciting ?

He chuckles and trails his lips down your neck, to your collarbone, tongue sliding towards your left tit. Without more useless teasing, his lips are on your nipple, and his tongue swirls around the jewel. You yank your head backwards, biting the inside of your cheek. His eyes are on you the whole time, drinking your cute facial reactions each time his tongue flickers on the top of your nipple, or on the way the jewel slightly moves left and right. He goes to suck on the right one, using his left hand to continue to stimulate both at the same time. 

“Feels good, uh ?”

You nod, not understanding how pleasurable it was. Because fuck, your body was on fire right now. The sensitivity of the area went skyrocket, and you squeeze your thighs around the hips of your lover as he continues to grind against your clothed cunt. He lifts a bit more up your skirt, allowing him more space to stimulate you down there as he eats your tits hungrily like the starved man he is.

“How cute,” he muses, sliding your panties on the side and pulling a bit down his pants to press his boxer against your slit. His voice rumbles against your piercing and makes you giddy. He was sucking on them so much it started to be sore, but you didn’t want it to stop, because you craved it to the bones.

You have no time to ride your pleasure that you feel his cock tapping a few times against your clit before smudging his precum and your wetness together, and then entering in one go inside your pussy. It went as easy as damn butter, you were so fucking soaked. And Satoru couldn’t help but roll down his eyes at the sensation, biting slightly your nipple to tease you and make you squeeze your walls around his dick. Just like the way he loved. Good, very good.

“So fucking tight-” he mutters, kissing back your lips to slide his tongue inside your mouth, using both of his hands to play with your breast now while he pounds quickly, chasing some relief and wanting to drive you faster to the edge. After all, it was risky, and you guys couldn’t fool around too long. He just wanted to make you cum first, to drive you slightly crazy. Tonight he would have all the time of the world to completely take care of you and your tits. Right now it was just… a trial.

“Wait, I’ll-” you babble, moaning louder as he tugs both piercings at the same time, thrusting hard inside your dripping walls. 

“Wait ? Nah,” he chuckles lightly, slamming his hips faster as he yanks your hair to allow him access to your neck, sucking on it and leaving a red mark. Well, that was inappropriate, other people could see it, but who cares. Satoru didn’t give a damn about that, anyways.

He slaps your tits before sucking back on them, gripping your ass to bring you even closer. You clench your pussy around his cock, the feeling overwhelming, his hot and wet mouth stimulating exactly where you wanted him too, his tongue working magic. Both the sensation of the coldness of the jewel, and the warmth of his tongue, was an amazing duality that made your head spin.

The pleasure was so good that you suddenly cum all over him, legs shaking and accidently wetting a bit of his boxer and the bottom of his shirt. You breath heavily, his lips kissing your tit before looking slowly back up at you while you come down your high. He smiles, still inside your cunt, not done yet with you, and straightens back as he bites his lower lip. He then asks : 

“Maybe I should get my nipples pierced too. What do you think, sweetheart ?” 

THE END 

[oc-cinematic-universe]

joe may not be fourth wall aware but hes totally genre aware. the moment things start turning into a survival horror he goes Oh I See Whats Happening and then he proceeds to cheese everything. monster chasing you? just use a designated hiding spot until the monster loses aggro. and it literally works. this horror shit is fucking easy

[msnihilist]

It is worth noting that I get a lot of anon hate, mostly insults and vague threats, but that's just the thing — I get anon hate.

By which I mean, no one gets anons about me. There's no call out post circulating about me.

There's nothing to say that I'm not very open about. Everyone who follows me and is friends with me is very much aware of what I write about and what kind of dynamics that I enjoy in fiction.

Anons don't tell other people that I'm a horrible person, they tell me that I'm a horrible person.

Because they know that I'm not. They just want me to hate myself.

[snekdood]

ig my biggest issue with fandoms is the almost... false closeness thats there in them? ig since i was a kid and wasnt good at enforcing boundaries and was just excited to find ppl with the same interest I didn't really think about it but be real like, there was a vibe that it was "okay" and "fine" to expose a lot about ourselves to eachother that... i think if we knew eachother irl... we'd hafta be a lot closer than that to see or hear about that stuff...

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

*strolls into tumblr and falls on my face pretending I haven't been missing for like a month I was out getting the milk hello maggots*

Doctor Who But I've Never Watched It 2.0

For those of you feeling deja vu YES I HAVE MADE POSTS ON DOCTOR WHO BEFORE OKAY but back then I was a young uneducated lad, just a fresh blossom unfucked by tumblr. Now I am surrounded by you lot and by god do y'all love Doctor Who. And I am Educated. My DW virginity is deflowered. All that.

SO HERE WE GO, EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SHOW I'VE NEVER WATCHED:

The show started in 1963, and then was rebooted in 2005 and the showrunner was... Robert de Neiro? Idk all I know is he gives Pedro Pascal vibes. Like his name. His name is Robert.

There have been 15 Doctors so far. One is a lesbian and it is not Jodie Whittaker, it is actually the 12th doctor.

There's someone called the Master. I don't know what that means, or if it's some kind of BDSM thing, but he has intense sexual tension with the Doctor.

He's also emo and has bleached hair and is kinda babygirl. And is called Missy.

The Doctors all have intense trauma and the 15th Doctor kind of girlbossed it by leaving David Tennant intact when they binary-fissioned.

Donna is a person played by Catherine... Tate? Not Hepburn. And she knows less about Doctor Who than I do. And Donna is in a QPR with the David Doctors (there are two of them).

David Doctor loves Donna very much. And then he kills her. But doesn't kill her. And then they have dinner together with her husband and kid.

The original show had shitty effects. The new show does too, and everyone is happy about this.

Rose is someone the David Doctor is in love with and then she ends up with a human AU of him and he leaves and the fans are very divided and passionate about this.

The human AU is called Tentoo because y'all hate using W's. What the fuck is Tentoo. What is Nuwho. Why isn't it New and Two. Help me.

THERE IS SOMETHING CALLED THE TARDIS, IT IS BIGGER ON THE INSIDE, I HAVE HAD WEIRD DREAMS WHERE IT WAS A FUCKING AUTO-RICKSHAW WITH RIBBONS FOR SEATBELTS, AND IT IS BLUE AND NOT YELLOW BUT IT WAS YELLOW IN MY DREAM. Because of a Drarry fanfic that I misread.

The 15th doctor dances homoerotically with someone during the French Revolution.

The 9th doctor kinda vibes with like his head jiggling idk I've only seen one gif of him.

The 13th doctor keeps forgetting she's in a woman's body.

It is all very gay.

David Tennant's arms are too long.

The sexiest person is a head.

The Meep's pronouns are Meep. Meep is not friend. IF NOT FRIEND THEN WHY FRIEND SHAPED??????

A buttcheek skin talks or something yeah this is all I got.

have at it y'all @robinprinceofchaos @multidimensional-trashcan @wispedvellichor @queermarzipan thanks for the second hand brainrot

*sneaks away under the cover of night* i was never here

[lilithandherharlots]

Too shy to tell you

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

Miguel hides your heals in hopes of making you forget you ever owned a pair...he confesses about his theft during a hot and heavy night of sex.

Warnings: This might be interpreted as possessive or an unhealthy bond. Though its supposed to be just a very shy and respectful Miguel who let's loose during sex.:]

Authors note: I am not a writer!! This is my first time righting fanfic.. like.. ever!!! So don't attack me. Though honest, constructive criticism is something that I would love to hear. Sorry if there are spelling mistakes. Also, I don't know how to put proper description..... enjoy!!!!

:::

"Miggy?" I call out to my boyfriend who's currently towering over the coffee machine, waiting for it to brew.

"Yes, my love?" He responds with a look over his shoulder.

"Have you seen my black pointed heals? I can't seem to find them."

"No. Have you checked by the door?" He was lying.

He was lying. He was lying, and he didn't feel bad about it. The truth was he had stuffed them in the highest cupboard of the laundry room. He knew you couldn't reach it. He liked it that way. He couldn't let you open it since he had stuffed at least 4 pairs of heals in there.

"No miggy, they aren't here." You say after checking everywhere by the front door.

"Idk what to say, baby... we have to leave soon. Just throw on a different pair and I'll buy you some new ones later."

He was a liar... and he was damn good at it... until he wasn't.

:::

It was 2am. This insanity started hours ago, but Miguel's stamina wouldn't let down. Your soft moans could fuel him till sun rise, and he would love to do this forever. But unlike him, you have limits. Limits to your ability to stay strong, or at least keep yourself up right. But he doesn't really care. Your begs for a break won't succeed with a constantly starving man like him.

"One more round, please baby... please. I need you." His desperate begs caress your tear stained cheeks as he whispers them softly, leaning over you and filling you with sloppy thrust.

"Miguel- please.. It's too much.." You whine as you try to pull away, gripping desperately onto the sheets.

"Last one.... I promise..." he lies.

He said the same thing the last 4 rounds. If he could have it his way he'd continue. But he knew you couldn't keep going for much longer, so he used this opportunity to tell you what he couldn't bring himself to say otherwise.

"I lied..." he confesses. Watching your tits bounce with every rough trust, keeping himself busy while you tried to form a reply. It took you a while, but you managed to let out a soft hum, waiting for him to explain himself further.

"I took them. Your heels.. I fucking hate those things.." he thrust get faster as he says it. Hoping to make your brain foggy enough to not remember his confessions in the morning.

"I like your height, so why do you wear those weird things?" His heart felt lighter as he told you.

"I like that your height forces you to get on your tippy toes every time you want a kiss from me.. and even then, I have to bend over to reach you.... I like that you rely on me to reach those high shelves. Every time you ask me, you grow as red as a rose...."

You can feel his movements speed up. You can barely hear him... your mind fuzzy from pleasure. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin felt like white noise at this point. The dim shadow of his frame covering you completely.

"You're so small under me.. your body falls any way I bend it..." At his point, he was just speaking the first thing to cross his mind.

You didn't hear him, and he knew it. Seconds later, you feel his weight shift, the mattress by your head sinking under his heavy hand as he leaned in and whispered.

"Please don't take that away from me."

His words were demanding. He felt exactly what he said. Even though your eyes were shut tight, you knew his eyes were locked on you. His breath heavy, as if he just confessed a dirty secret. He kinda did...

"Promise me.... Promise me you won't wear them and I'll help you cum."

As tired as you were. You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. So you give in.

"F-fine... I promise."

"You promise what?" He smirked hearing your whiney voice.

"I promise I won't wear the heels!!"

The pleasure he got from you saying that was immense. He shifted his weight once more as he changed your position like a marionette doll. Spreading your legs apart. His hands wrapped around your thighs, and his claws dug into your skin. The stinging pain of it was a wake-up call, causing you to gasp for air.

This position caused him to go deeper. The sticky mess from your previous rounds was being pushed out of your aching hole. The sound of his hips hitting your ass grew louder with every precise thrust. They got louder and louder until they stopped. Your thighs had clenched closed as you hit that high you were chasing. And you took him with you. Tightening around his pulsing cock in a way that made him fill you to the brim once more.

He watched your body shake. Your hips jerking forward. He would usually take that as his sign to keep going, but your fucked out face was telling him you couldn't take another thrust.

"You did great my love..... my little angel~" He cooed gentle praises as he rubbed your claw marked thighs.

"I'll buy you the cutest flats."

:::

A thing he didn't know.. is that you lied, too. His secret cupboard was emptied, and your heal collection was restored... and yes.. he pouted in silence.

The end

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

Take A Sip: Your best friends engagement party was a dreadful reminder of your painfully barren dating life. That is until you laid eyes on the tattooed waiter who can’t stop staring - after all, the wine tastes sweet but he tastes sweeter. https://ve1vetyoongi.tumblr.com/post/187396891085/take-a-sip-jjk

Pretty Kitty: You’re JK’s baby, his toy his pretty little pet. https://venusiangguk.tumblr.com/post/652198771964411904/pairing-jungkook-x-reader-gamerjk-x

Closeted: Jeon Jungkook doesn’t like you and you don’t like him. Your friends and his friends decide enough is enough and they lock you in a closet together to settle your differences. Mhm. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/648755227111063552/closeted-jjk

A Kiss From The Moon: All these years, all these summers, Jeon Jungkook has loved you. His problem? You have no idea. Mostly because he has always said it far too platonically and thrown up in your lap after saying it. Drunk. Fuck. Oh, yeah, and you’re also Park Jimin’s best friend since preschool. Shit. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/657157661890150400/a-kiss-from-the-moon-jjk

Bullseye: Are you the insufferable, cocky, absolutely-no-good-for-anyone female equivalent of a fuckboy? Maybe. Okay, yeah. But guess who decided to come along and interrupt your conquests? Jeon Jungkook. What now? Complain to your best friend Kim Taehyung all day or fucking do something about it? https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/650762333721870336/bullseye-m-jjk

BB/GG: Jeon Jungkook is the lead singer in a rock band and failed his Biology class last semester, so he has to take remedial classes over the summer. You’re the Biology TA, double major in Psychology and Biology, watching him freak out over his make-up exam because he had overslept. Both of you are surrounded by rumors. Does the title stand for bad boy / good girl or bad bitch / good guy? Who knows. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/653944091277754368/bb-gg-m-jjk

What Lovers Do: Jeon Jungkook has decided for Chuseok this year he’s going to get his parents off his back and hire a pretend significant other. Rent-A-Girlfriend, if you will. Attend the family party with you, make small talk, split. You’re an expert at doing what lovers do. Easy. But if it’s so easy, then why does the heart stutter? https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/661440006188138496/what-lovers-do-m-jjk

Call Me Back: You know that feeling where you look at someone and you know they’re not going to call you back? You know you shouldn’t try to fuck them, but for some reason you can’t look away. You’re just looking at them across the house party and they’re looking at you, and, shit, Jeon Jungkook is being dared to talk to you, so here goes nothing. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/671505923277209600/call-me-back-m-jjk

Irresistible: Jeon Jungkook provokes you into fucking him. Just not before you finger-fuck his mouth in the middle of a kitchen that belongs to neither of you as a summer party rages outside. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/722251720235843584/irresistible-m-jjk

Seven: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He’s crazy. Okay, it’s kinda complicated. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/722988758026338304/seven-days-a-week-m-jjk

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply <i>her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a <i>little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he <i>knows</i> that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and <i>fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

[dear-ao3]

Question for the mods....

HOW IN THE FUCK DID YOU MEET???

Like what???

How??

I am so god damn curious about you two. I wanna study yall under a microscope lol

Also ngl kinda envious of how close of friends you two seem to be. (Being an introverted shy af mofo sucks lmao)

I would actually probably read a whole ass book or watch a sitcom or something of the seemingly ever present weird-ass shit that seems to happen on a day-by-day basis.

/gen /lh /nf /pos

2018 newsies fandom. we weren't overly close but we bonded over race and albert a little and then katya dropped off the face of the earth for about a year.

during 2020 lockdown we both independently got into the witcher fandom and somehow ran into eachother again and had the fingers pointing OH MY GOD Y O U !!! moment in our dms. we bonded over hating jaskier. during this time we realized we were both dancers and katya was looking at dance colleges, i was already in college for dance and since it was lockdown and we couldn't go anywhere i told katya my experience auditioning at places to give him a good idea of places. and then i broke every internet safety rule known to man and said hey what if you had applied to my college but didnt know it?? and then one thing led to another and i dished out all the tea on my school. (only After that did we face reveal and give eachother our names lol) and then katya applied. mostly as a joke. until it wasnt a joke because that school gave katya a shit load of money and actually had stuff katya wanted to do. katya ended up coming to one of my zoom ballet classes and it took everything we had to not loose our shit on camera.

during this time we mostly kept eachother sane in lockdown writing witcher fanfic, and sending eachother awful thirst traps on instagram to pitbull music. one of our awful bits was using the dilf filter to make bad frat boy edits.

come august of 2021 we both moved into college. the same college. in the same building. it was wild. i pinched myself several times in shock. we went on a walk around campus with some worms on strings and were like what the hell how did we get here.

we continued to hang out and did weird insane things together. we took a class on the french revolution together where i had to put up with katya and fennec awkwardly flirting (read: making finger guns at eachother).

and then, since i was 2 years older, i was graduating and was going to stay in the area for a job and was like hey. what if we got an apartment together? and then we did. several adults agreed to this. idk why they let us. but now we live together in a real life apartment and we haven't even killed eachother yet. neither of our parents know that we met online. each of them have a different fake story as to how we know eachother and we really just hope they are never in the same room long enough to ask eachother about it. but its insane. 12/10 would recommend.

katya wanted me to include old tumblr screenshots of us talking, heres what i found from circa 2020:

we've always been like this lol

and heres some ancient greatest hits from instagram, i dont have context and trust me you dont want it:

every now and then the two of us look at eachother and go. how the fuck did we end up here??? (we have no idea)

[k0yaz]

miguel o’hara x female reader smut + fluff + hes 🥺an overprotective yandere 🥺🥺🥺

overprotective miguel hcs

Pairing(s): miguel o’hara x fem!reader

CW: nsfw + sfw, overprotective themes, jealousy, mentions of violence, clingy miguel, switch!miguel, afab reader, rough sex, mentions of manhandling, grabbing, jealous sex, choking, biting, you press your knee against his dick ig??? Slight mention of praise kink

A/N: not sure if you wanted a full fic or hcs but your request sounded like hcs so that’s what I did if that’s okay, also I excluded the yandere part since my rules state i don’t write for yandere/obsessive themes <33

Fluff hcs

Miguel gets excited to see you when he gets back from his work as spiderman

Clingy man <33

Takes you out often, but you two have to go when he starts showing his overprotective side

Let’s just say he gets a lil violent if anyone oversteps

Gets jealous quite easily

Like someone could literally touch your shoulder, and if he finds it even remotely suggestive he gets jealous

but don’t worry, even though he gets jealous easily, he mostly remains respectful of you and your boundaries and keeps the feelings to himself if it’s just something he’s overthinking

Not to mention…yes, overprotective Miguel does overthink a lot and requires cuddles and reassurance from you when necessary. Not that you mind though.

However if you’re out in public and you’re being legitimately harassed, he either intimidates the person harassing you, or he just beats the shit out of them-

If you’re scared after that encounter, he’ll definitely hold your arms and whisper comforting words into your ear

Literally the sweetest man ever when you’re in his arms after that encounter

it’s as if he never beat some creepy dude up badly just 10 minutes ago

Overall, overprotective and easily jealous, but hella sweet to make up for it <3

Nsfw hcs

Speaking of easily jealous, Miguel really has a thing for initiating jealous sex

If you were being a little “suggestive” with someone else, or doing anything that got Miguel jealous, then you have a surprise for tonight

Miguel will quite literally throw you onto the bed when you two get home

Of course, he will stop if you say no, or are visibly uncomfortable with it

He’s a switch with a dom lean

he will grab onto you and hold you against him while thrusting into you

occasionally bites your shoulder/neck if you’re okay with it

he sometimes chokes you during sex

Like, he lightly wraps his fingers around your throat and digs his fingertips in as he pushes his palm down while he slams inside you

Kinda a weird one but I feel like he’d start getting more aroused when he sees your fucked out face

Just seeing your eyes rolled back, and drool dripping down your chin as you beg for him, mixed with the sensation of your walls clenching around his dick, makes him cum almost immediately

Submissive Miguel on the other hand…

Loves it when you choke HIM instead

lowkey wants you to use your knee to stimulate him

Needily grinds his cock that’s leaking with precum against your knee pressing against him

bro definitely whimpers and groans you can’t tell me he doesn’t

curses under his breath in Spanish

once you two are done, Miguel is a literal god at aftercare

He’ll take a bath with you, shower you with kisses and cuddles, and constantly ask if you’re okay while holding you against his broad chest.

A/N: again y’all, that’s two fanfics in one day skskkdnjf

also ik y’all probably wanted Spanish dialogue from Miguel but my curry muncher ass doesn’t speak Spanish and I always zoned out in Spanish class so no sorry 🙄

but anyways have a nice day y’all don’t evaporate or anything <33

[bucketspammer4life]

what i think your favorite PO boxer says about you

based on my biases and a year of experience (if you get mad over how i talked about your fave im going to turn you into a can of spam)

first time ive ever maxed out the tags

if i missed your fav tell me ‼️

doc louis - you have good taste and are starving for content about him, you really are a survivor

little mac - you either project onto him or just like calling him your son

glass joe - you have a thing for pathetic men (understandable tbh) and like calling him a wet cat since he fits that desc well

von kaiser - same thing as joe but add a hint of "oh no hes hot"

disco kid - you literally have no enemies i love you so much its not even funny (platonic)

king hippo - my god you are good at making up lore, how the fuck do you make a solid personality for a character that only roars and grunts

piston hondo - im 100% youre a saint, no hondo fan i met has ever been unpleasant to talk with

bear hugger - you either see him as a father figure or just think hes hot or (secret third option) you like making jokes about him being a disney princess, either way youre cool

great tiger - oh you have been here for a long time, literally every great tiger fan i know has been in the fandom since 7.000 BC or something, also youre prob really good at art

don flamenco - you use the word "cunty" on a daily basis or just like making fun of his stupid bald head, also yes he has eyeliner on 100%

aran ryan - you'd overthrow a goverment for this greasy rat, youre extremely extremely gay and/or neurodivergent and thats very good for you, you also like making him say lad and have had to go ankle deep in irish slang when making him speak in fanfics

soda popinski - ive never seen someone have soda as their fav, hes always 2nd place somehow so im just gonna go take a shot in the dark and say you like the color pink (mental gymnastics who??)

bald bull - you are a mixed bag, i gen cant put a finger on what kind of personality bull stans have but i can say you either find him hot or like making fun of him, maybe both

super macho man - least serious people ever with some traumatizing lore for the boxers & their own ocs, you prob make him say bogus 88268292 times in a sentence and i can respect that

mr sandman - ive only seen 2 (two ) ppl who have him as their fav and its kinda sad, youre starving for content of him and i wish you the best

birdie mac - hes your son (im not elaborating)

gabby jay - same thing as joe but you went over the top with liking dilfs

narcis prince - gay. gay gay homosexual gay. you went for the self obsessed blonde twink and you thought it wasnt obvious?? you fucking homosexual

heike kagero - youre 1000% queer, sorry to be a broken record about the gay thing but ur fav is literally a man with long hair & makeup that has to be some flavor of queer

hoy quarlow - you are/were another ancient punch out fan, you def shitpost a lot

bruiser bros - where are you??? ive gen never met a bruiser bros fan and its concerning like dude where did u go

texas mac - im sorry but you dont exist, ive never ever seen a texas mac fan, not even someone who mentions him

mad clown - you foul clownfucker. you have weird taste in characters you find hot and tbh im all here for it

masked muscle - same thing as texas mac but theres a slight chance you exist, if you do please show yourself

dragon chan - another punch out ancient fan, you probably were most active in 2013-2019 and kinda miss old shitposts and have either moved on or dont participate much anymore

spo aran - (this is mostly for Charlie but i have hope that theres some other spo aran fans out there) youre probably looking for other spo aran fans, goodpeed soldier, goodpeed

mask x - you arent getting away with this fuck you

[helluva-simper]

The urge to write a fanfic was too strong

So I am awake right now with the need to write a fanfic that i really need someone to make a actual fanfic out of because my hopeless romantic ass needs something to relate to. So here ya go.

-------------

      You were lying horizontally on the armchair in the lobby of the hotel. You were reading one of those romance books you called, “The source.” The source of what, they may ask. Wel, they never get an answer. Before they can protest you change the subject. 

      You were feeling kinda restless tonight so you decided to chill in the lobby till you felt tired. 

       “He silently chuckled before grabbing her by the hips hearing a small gasp escape her lips. A hand rose and rested on her cheek, slowly caressing it. 'You look stunning.’ (Male character) said with a grin. (Female character) rolls their eyes as they grab his collar and-” “What's got you up so early?” A voice from behind you questioned, making you jump and quickly shut the book like some teenage boy trying to hide their weird fetish from their parents. 

        “O-oh, Alastor. It's you. I was just reading. Didn't feel tired, you know?” You tone screamed how nervous you were even without the complete book throwing moment. Well… not actually. The book rested on your stomach but it felt like it. Alastor hums reaching for the book, grabbing it before you could stop him. “I'm guessing this is some romance story you found?” Alastor asked, examining the book. You weren't surprised by the comment though. Those were the only types of books you read. What did they call those types of people? Oh, yeah. Hopeless romantics. 

        Not saying your partner wasn't great at being your… well partener. But there wasn't much- no. There wasn't any touch in your little arrangement. They thrived off of pure words and small gestures. Which was absolutely nice, especially from them. Who are they? Well, they're standing right in front of you reading the back of the book with an unreadable expression. 

         Alastor hums before placing the book back on to your stomach. “So.. You like… those types of books?” Argh! This man! Why did he say it like that?! You just wanted to strangle him. Yes, your book has its spicy scenes but nothing Angel dust would reenact. You chuckle nervously. “Y-yeah. I guess they just interest me.” You replied. And God! It sounded so wrong. “I mean like the plot. The plot is good. Because you kno-” You were quickly interrupted by a cold, yet soft plush against your lips.

           Your eyes widen when you notice what, or shall I say whom, is causing it. Alastor. Alastor was fucking kissing you. You couldn't believe it. Yeah, you two were pretty much dating but he never wanted physical touch of any kind. At least that's what you thought. Now you kinda feel a bit stupid. 

              You wrap your hands around his slender waist since he has to lean all the way over just to make it to your face. 

                He breaks the kiss standing all the way up making you reluctantly pull your hands away. He offers you his hand. “Now, Darling! Let's get you off to bed!” He says as you grab it. It pissed you off how nonchalant he was acting after all… that. And how warm your face felt.

----------

I wrote this on google docs without rereading it or writing on paper 1st so I apologize if it's shitty. Because its like...

in the goddamn morning. And my phone is literally on 2% so yeah. Night! Also if created Plz give credit 😜

[olderthannetfic]

Since you've mentioned that you use Scrivener as a word processing software, I have a bit of a weird-ish question. I have looked at the programme and it seems incredibly useful, and then I looked at the pricetag and- gulp.

I currently use Word which costs 5 euros per year thanks to university, but am thinking about switching to another programme that isn't related to my uni as I feel too paranoid about my smutty fanfic ideas being looked at by my uni and them disapproving of my writing. XD (Word keeps marking "fuck" with a squiggly line and suggesting I choose another word to avoid offending my readers, but if canon doesn't give Barclay some holographic MMF action taking place during "A Fistful of Datas" and turning both his holographic partners into holographic Data and therefore inducing maximum tension and insecurity due to feelings in poor sandwiched Barclay whenever he meets actual Data after that, I will have to write it myself! :P )

According to the website where one can buy a Scrivener license, one pays for the current version of it and will have to buy later versions anew if I haven't misunderstood. You seem to have used it for quite a while, and I haven't managed to find out when the different versions came out. I know the current one is 3, but I am unsure how much time passed between 1 and 2 and 2 and 3, and am unsure whether it's a good idea to buy a license now or whether it would be wiser to wait if it's likely that another version might be released in the near future (that is within one year for example) because then I might wait a little while with my purchase, heh. It probably sounds quite stingy but I am solely getting it for my tiny and too seldom indulged hobby of writing fanfic, and currently have to kinda sorta pay more attention to my wallet and where its contents go, so to say, which is why I'm hesitant.

The question basically is: As a (probable?) long-time user, do you think it's likely a new version of Scrivener will be released within the next year or so or do you think it's likely the current version will be tha latest to purchase for a longer while than 1-2 years?

I hope this rambly mess makes sense, haven't really slept for quite some time, so I am sorry if this is terribly incomprehensible. Sorry for the weird stingy question. Have a nice day and I hope you have slept and will sleep better than I currently do, heh!

--

I've only used it for like three years.

A quick google suggests that Scrivener 2 was released in 2010. 3 was released in 2017 basically to keep up with OS changes.

(IDK what you searched, but this isn't hard to find, dude.)

Scrivener is a fairly... old-fashioned style of software, I guess I'd call it. Some dude wrote himself a program to write his own novel and then people liked it. Some other guy decided to port it to Windows.

They update approximately never. When they do, recent buyers of the old one upgrade for free and everybody else gets like half off. The trial period is 30 days of actual use. The current retail license for 3 is only like sixty bucks. It's a commercial product, but... not like you've been trained to expect by your average modern software that wants to nickle and dime you at every turn.

Do you need Scrivener? Well, no. Not unless you want customizable high-level ebook output formatting and fancy features like that. You could just use some other free option if you just want to type stories in something that isn't Word. But Scrivener is priced extremely low for what it is.

[juliasturnz]

“My teenage dream”

🜸 - this fanfic is requested again, @monroesturnns !! Make sure to follow her!♥️

★ - summary:

you and Chris haven’t been more then just friends.. you always had a crush on him, later that night you and Chris have a really deep conversation and some things don’t go as planned.

༆ - warnings!:

kissing, cussing, slightly sexual touch and use of alcohol (lmk if there is something else that triggers u!)

✫彡 - writers note :)

hi guys i just wanted to thank you all for the nice comments and follows, it means alooott thank you again 💖

★ - other role again!:

good friend chloe.. Good friend? Idrk she is js the type to leave you behind at a party..

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

You are going to this huuuge party, it’s so exiting but you haven’t been to a party in a long time so you have no idea what to expect.

You are wearing something that will make a guy completely crazy.. a mini dress and your ass-cheeks are slightly visible. You’d always love to dress that way and you still do, but this old friend of yours is organizing it, he has always been nice to me but something is just feeling different.

Chloe has been texting you nonstop, ‘stop fucking texting me, oh my god!’ You say when she send you at least more then 10 messages. She has been telling you about the party for a hour long, ‘I’m getting ready rn I’ll be there in a half hour.’ You send her a voice message, I don’t feel like typing rn bc the black wand from my mascara is basically glued in my hands. Even when you send a voice message she just ignores you and talks further about boys and again the party.

When you finally type ‘I’m done’ to your yapping friend she finally stops talking, ‘okay I’ll be there in 20 minutes!’ She yells through a voice message. Your phone finally has been stop going off, until a familiar number pops up it’s Chris. You are texting with him while your doing your last things like putting on a perfume, checking your bag if you have everything and a few things more. Only a little time was left and he asks you if you want to face time.

‘Hey Chris, how r you!’ You act like you haven’t been talking the last 10 minutes, you kinda forget how well you guys went along and he basically starts acting with you ‘oh I haven’t spoken you in a long time y/n how are you?’ He looks at you through the phone with a little grin right before you two start busting out laughing. ‘Do you wanna take a little shot before the party?’ he asks you with a smile on his face. You take a good look at his face, hm he hasn’t changed a lot only his hair. You catch yourself looking at his blue eyes through the screen. ‘Oh wow.’ You cover your mouth when you realize you said that out loud. ‘Huh? Is there something wrong?’ He looks at you with a confused face and give you a little smile. Oh fuck do you think he noticed. Before you freak out and just stand there in silence you hear a ring from the doorbell. ‘I-I am sorry Chloe is here I’ll see you at the party bye!’ ‘Oh uh bye!’ I really hope I didn’t make thing weird.

Before you could even open the door someone has been screaming on the streets ‘hurry up we gotta go!’ You hear her high pitched voice so you hurry up before she starts yelling. ‘On my way!’ I think she heard me at least I hope so.

when you arrive at the front door she’s already speaking about the party and the fact that we have to hurry even though we had about 10 minutes left. ‘Can you hurry? We need to go there quick!’ ‘Chloe we have literally 10 mi’- she interrupts you immediately ‘no? We need to hurry like right now!’ ‘Girl calm down’ you whisper to yourself, you definitely don’t want her to hear what you were saying, bc that would 100% cause drama.

you put on one last time your favorite cologne and again deodorant and leave the house with Chloe talking about boys once again. ‘Girl you need a man in your life, you’re kinda boring.’ She casually says and turns around to your face completely in shock. What did she just say? ‘You heard me, we are going to find you a man tn.’ ‘What I don’t n’- once again she cuts you off

The rest of the car ride y’all stay silent which is surprising, normally Chloe would be either talking shit, brag about her “amazing” boyfriend or either talk about parties.

You arrive at Chris’ big house, ‘dang this mf has a big house!’ You stand right in front of a big mansion with already drunk teenagers in the front yard and the sound of music that hits your ears. ‘This is gonna be amazing!!!!’ Chloe is literally screaming. You just follow her in silence to the front door.

Before you could even ask her a thing she is already standing with her “amazing” boyfriend and her other friends, you look around to find someone to talk to bc no way your going to be standing with them. You look around and catch a glance from someone across the room and the someone is Chris. He looks so good, even tho he only wears a pair of baggy pants, a see through blouse with a light blue tie. Just perfect. He catches you looking at him and walks over to you. He is only a few inches away from you when you start apologizing right away, he makes you nervous. ‘Look I’m so sorry about what happened when we’- ‘shhh it’s okay, don’t think about it too much. I know you stared at my eyes,’ ‘well yes your eyes are pretty gorgeous.’ You look at him with a little shy but a naughty smile on your face. ‘Should we take that shot then?’ You follow him into the kitchen.

It isn’t really busy in here, but you’ve never seen this much red plastic cups around you. Chris catches your looking around mostly at the amount of red cups that are just laying around. ‘Please don’t mind this fucking mess.’ He kinda looks disappointed, ‘the way you said that sounds promising.’ You grin at his face still scanning almost every cup. ‘Anyways should we do 3 vodka shots?’ ‘Sounds good to me.’ You give him a warm smile as he fills the fancy shot glasses.

He hands you the pretty full shot glasses and looks at you and says ‘to the pretty woman in front of me.’ You blink twice, did he really said that oh my god. ‘You heard me.’ You giggle at his reaction and let the strong drink fall back into your throat. ‘This shit is disgusting.’ ‘Do you want a martini? I can make one for you.’ ‘Oh okay mr bartender.’ He giggles at your reaction.

You drink your martini while he has just a casual Pepsi, ‘so what brings you here tonight?’ He looks up at you with a very flirtatious look, ‘tbh like actually, even though my “friend” dragged me into here.. you.’ You keep looking at his now lightened up eyes. You can’t help but stare at them for a while. He interrupts your intense look, ‘wait what do you mean “friend”?’ He always seems to aks you things in a deeper level, something always felt connected between the two of you. Well she’s just idk not really my friend idk what she is.’ He gives you a worried look, ‘it’s okay I’m here.’ He lays his hand on your shoulder, what makes you tingle by his touch. ‘Thank you.’ ‘Ofcourse anytime.’ your curiosity bottles up ‘why did you even invite Chloe in the first place, not to be rude but she isn’t nice at all.’ ‘Oh my god is your “friend” Chloe?’ ‘Yeah I guess, why?’ ‘She cheated on me.’ He blurred out. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to bring i’- you’re being interrupted by her storming into the kitchen. ‘Ugh I need more drinks,’ she looks everything but sober. ‘Oh no here come Chloe you need to rest.’ Chris helps you with her, you bring her upstairs to a free bedroom. ‘What a surprise.’ He stands in the doorway after he helped you let her lay down in a strangers bed, kind of waiting for you and watching you while you tuck Chloe into a strangers bed. ‘I’m so sorry about what she did.’ You turn your face to his face. ‘You don’t have to be sorry about this, but why are you even her friend, she’s such a dumbass.’ ‘She helped me through a rough time, but she became popular and she forgot about me.’ ‘Damn I’m sorry.’ He walks up to you and give you a hug out of nowhere. ‘It felt like you needed one.’ You sink into his shoulder and start sobbing out of thin air. ‘Hey hey, your okay your here with me come.’ He takes you to the bathroom to help you fix your perfectly done makeup.

‘You are really pretty you know that.’ You couldn’t focus on anything rn but his pink lips. ‘Oh your needy.’ He gives you a whole different tone. He leans into a kiss. You kiss him back right away. His hands fall on your waist and moves down to your thighs and while he squeezes them just the slightest bit. This was the best kiss you probably ever had. There is going so much through your head rn, “his lips are so soft” “he smells so good” “his lips taste just like vanilla” when you stop the most perfect kiss ever, you kind of wake up again. ‘You are a really good kisser mr bartender.’ You would never said this in any universe, it might be the drinks you had or the strong confidence you got while you were around him. ‘Am I? Should we get another drink then?’ You follow him to the kitchen again.

you surprisingly hold his hand while you walk through the dancing, drunk or smoking people. But trust me you definitely got eyes on you. When you and Chris reach the kitchen you fall back into the cheating topic, your friend. ‘And then she just cheated on me.’ You catch a little tear that flows down his cheek. ‘I’m so sorry Chris, you honestly don’t deserve that.’ You get of the barstool and hug him tight and go with your fingers through his soft hair. ‘Do you wanna take a walk or smth?’ He removes his head from your shoulder. You nod right away, ‘don’t you got to focus on what’s happening inside of here?’ Your kind of worried someone might literally burn the house down. ‘They’ll be alright the most of them are drunk anyway or Nick and Matt will take care of it, I hope so.’ he shrugs his shoulders and takes a Pepsi. ‘Oh okay then, should we go?’ ‘Yes.’ He sticks his hand out and you and you hold his hand while you walk out of the front door, holding each others hand.

He takes you to a small beach just at the end of the block, ‘it’s beautiful here!’ You can’t help but keep looking around even though it’s already night. ‘I know right, this place brings me so much peace.’ You and Chris are still holding hands, he looks down at the hands holding each other and slightly squeezes your hand. He gives you that one smile you missed a lot. ‘I love your smile so much.’ His cheeks turn slightly pink in the bright moonlight. ‘Should we just sit down and talk, I just wanted to get away from those people. I don’t know why I invited the half of those people. I didn’t wanna be rude yk?’ ‘Trust me I know. He lets his hand go while you nod at his first question. You keep on knowing exactly what he means in different scenarios, ‘I know exactly what you mean.’ You can’t help but keep on saying.

You are having such a great time with Chris, you missed this a lot. You reach the topic from the friendship between you two. ‘I really missed this,’ he looks at you with a sudden serious look. He is speaking exactly what you thought not even 20 min ago. ‘I really did too.’ He looks at your lips and kisses you once again. ‘Y/n I really love you, but I can’t keep you on a friend level. You make me so happy, you know me on a different level and I feel so co’- you interrupt him what kinda makes you feel bad bc those words were so beautiful. ‘I wanna be your girlfriend Chris. Your little speech was so beautiful btw.’ That makes him giggle a bit. And he kisses you in the bright moonlight at the beach once again.

🜸 -

Hey beautiful human🤭 make sure to like this post and comment if you wanna be tagged in my upcoming fanfics! I love you so much, you are loved <3 take care!💋

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[mirusuchanne]

✦ Desperate for you, bunny ✦

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

ʟᴏʀᴇɴᴢᴏ ᴢᴜʀᴢᴏʟᴏ ⌕ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ ғᴀɴғɪᴄ!

You and 𝙝𝙞𝙢 were always enemies. Enemies with some deep connection, but nothing close to positive.

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎: smutt; drinking; mention of stalking; unknown gifts; unprotected sex.

A/N: this is my first fanfic on here, eagerly waiting for support!

𝑫𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔: Y/n (Rawenclaw) and Theodore have been lovers, but their relationship got messed up after some accident of Nott with other Slytherin girl, which turned out 𝗡𝗢𝗧 to be true. They become enemies and Theodore starts 'hiding' from his ex in advance to do something else.. But then the carnival party which is only held once in 4 years is announced, and the plot twists backwards..

"Y'know about the carnival party right? In two days" Pansy asked me and I nodded.

"Yeah, and I also have a plan" I widened my face, which turned into a devilish smirk.

"Whats up?"

"Nott."

"Not what?" Parkinson asked again, with a slight confusion on her face.

"Theodore" I chuckled.

"WHAT?" She lost her complete control and coolness in less than a second. "Wait what are you even going to do?"

"Just a little teasing.. You know I gotta remind him who he lost"

"Oh come on.. THAT'S GOING TO BE SICK"

"I know" I laughed, she laughed too and our laughs mixed together turned into something harmonic, the early taste of karma itself.

"But you're kinda bitchy bitch for not telling me about your stupidly awesome plans earlier" she rolled her eyes.

"I know right" I added.

Many days had passed since our breakup few months ago, but I hadn't seen Theodore Nott. Not in the hallways, nowhere. Nowhere to be seen. Well, I did know his popular friend group was going to drag him into the carnival party, since it was only held once in 4 years. He wasn't going to miss the fun, just like me. I was going to meet him again after such a long time. I was going to prove to him that disappearing from my existence wasn't that easy. He was going to come back to me just like a little puppy. Just watch.

I hadn't even talked to him. I just heard rumours of him trying to get away from me. I even heard rumours of him stalking me, following me everywhere I went. I only got to see his silhouettes in the hallways, but he wasn't there the second I looked at the strange figure.

Next day when Y/n went to her dorm, she saw a strange gift next to her bed. She went to it, and carefully examined it.

Before actually letting her fingers to unwrap it, she quickly got back and thought.

"I'm a fucking idiot.. What if it's a death gift"

She watched it for hours, and when she couldn't bear the curiosity anymore, she just went to the present and unwrapped it, closing her eyes shut, hoping not to die. But actually, it was not a death gift. It was a dress.

Y/n swiftly took the box and put it on her bed. She took the dress and examined it. It was a very short, over revealing black dress with cut just above the chest and an enormous cut on the back. It had diamonds on the side. Y/n casted a spell. Those were real diamonds. Her eyes widened. She started searching for a note, looking for any sign of the gifter. And she found it, the note on the bottom of the box. Somebody had written with a messy handwriting:

'I can't imagine how sexy you'll look in that dress tomorrow.. Almost unbearable to fuck you just right here and there.'

Her eyes widened more. "Fuck" she thought. She was turned on. But she had never had official, so-called "sex" with Nott before. It seemed.. Weird, but also exciting for the extreme side of her. The side that wanted to make love with her ex.. The side that was scared to say it in other side's face, but really wanted to get fucked by him. The side that imagined a lot in the nighttime, but disappeared in the daytime.

The day passed. Y/n woke up the next day, and to her suprise, she was scared a little. She also had an odd feeling down her center, but she didn't know why. She was in a deep confusion.

Theodore p.o.v.

I just can't fucking take it anymore. I'm afraid she hates me. Afraid that we will never be able to make it out. We will never meet each other again after Hogwarts. I want to talk to her, I'm afraid that she'll dump me and go on with her life. I've never been so scared. I'm a fucking loser. I want to feel her lips, her soft flesh, her ass, her hips, her soft waist, her wetness again. I want to hear her screaming my name, moaning in my ear, biting my earlobe, squealing to me to not stop, coming on my fingers. But I'm afraid I won't feel that anymore. Only thing I do is hiding from her and watching her every move, flinching every time I see her with another guy. And beating the shit out of every guy who even talks to her. Then watching her as she's wondering why her little date didn't come, why did she see her 'date' in the hospital, with his face full of blood and body full of bruises the next day? It was all me. I've gone possessive and obsessive over her. She has possessed me. I'm going all in today. Chatting her up will end into her acceptance, and who knows, wild sex? I'm up for it too. Or else, I am going to fucking kill myself. I'm gonna please her the way, make her feel the way nobody has ever had. I'm going to reach and touch the places in her body, that nobody has ever even known about.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦.

At the carnival party (yn POV)

I looked around the whole Hall, as I gripped my hips and looked down at my dress in disbelief, because I actually wore it. The dress some stranger told me to wear. The fucking amazing dress which wasn't as appropriate for the carnival party.

All my friends left.. To fuck and make out with their boyfriends or one night stands. And I was left alone. I just decided to go up to the counter and drink as many as I could. I ordered one, two, three, wait, now six? Seven, Eight.. I slowly turned out to be gone all blank, but to my suprise, I didn't faint. I did not even see 𝘩𝘪𝘮 anywhere, which upsetted me the most. I swallowed everything by myself.

I was going to raise my hand for another drink, but somebody came up to me and said with a deep voice:

"Try this" and handed me a cup. I just took it without hesitation and let it run down my throat in one single gulp. The stranger lightly chuckled out of suprise.

I tried to raise my hand for another shot, but he took my hand and stopped me.

"Relax, it will be too much for you, bunny"

The nickname.. It was familiar. Something Theo used to call me. But I probably couldn't think that way in that moment. My brain couldn't filter the information. It just swallowed everything and left me without a single conclusion. I looked up at the figure. He had his face painted.

"Nice mask, I like it" I looked down at my hands. I couldn't even recognize my own hands.

"Thank you, gorgeous" he chuckled lightly. "And since when are gorgeous girls like you out here, all alone on the carnival party? Where are your friends?"

"Hooking up" I looked up at him. I noticed his eyes getting dangerously low and dark as he asked:

"And why aren't you hooking up with anyone? I'm sure many guys want to.. Do stuff with you."

"I'm not here to fuck" I felt myself get more sensitive and emotional as I felt tears form in my eyes, followed with them streaming down my face the next minute.

"Then why are you here, huh, principessa?" He took my face and caressed my cheeks with his fingers. I noticed his perfect eyelashes, laying on his perfect eyes lightly. It was like falling in love with first sight. But the familiar firey scent was telling me otherwise: it was 𝘯𝘰𝘵 the first sight.

"Fuck.. You're familiar" I mumbled and closed my eyes.

"I might be" he whispered.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

It was silence.

"Tell me the truth" I added firmly, still having my eyes closed.

"Yes, you do. And I can't stop thinking about you" he said in a deep voice, already waiting for my response.

"I can't stop thinking about you too.. My mind is in chaos right now" I whispered again.. It was such an erotic whisper, I got surprised by myself.

"Y/n..you're fucking turning me on, bunny" he groaned and his grip tightened on my waist. I didn't even remember when he laid his hands there. The next moment he was gripping my hips.. Going down my ass as I felt the touch. Finally I recognized the touch and I whispered:

"Theodore.. Shit"

I fainted. It was the end of the party for me. Only thing I knew was that I finally found him, he was always right next to me.

I woke up in the morning. I was in my dorm. Familiar. But the thing that was more familiar was something I lost from my eyes the day before. I didn't want to lose him, since now we both knew that we wanted each other. Or maybe the feeling wasn't mutual? I just gulped and stood up. I was in my pajamas. I looked around and realized, it wasn't my fucking dorm.

"Good morning, principessa" the familiar deep voice said. I squealed and ran to the door, just to bump right into him. He had just showered, and had a towel wrapped around his lower waist, revealing his v-line. His hair was wet, and water was dripping down from it on his back and chest slowly. He noticed me looking at his abs hungrily and smirked.

"My eyes are up here" he said. I couldn't NOT say it, so I answered:

"Fuck, your eyes are much more difficult to look at"

it was probably the best compliment I had ever given to him. He looked at me with a serious expression and said:

"You are fucking driving me crazy"

He went up to me and cought my chin, looking at my eyes and after acknowledging my acceptance, taking his tongue inside of my mouth, exploring every single inch.

"Why did you hide from me.. " I said in between the thursts of his tongue in my mouth.

"Because I was gone nuts about you, and I still am.. I was afraid of losing that pretty little face, bunny, do you understand?" He was desperate, but I was more needy for his touch. I quickly undressed.

"I do, Theo" I whispered in my erotic tone.

"Just let me do some things to you right now, principessa" he unwrapped his towel and revealed his already hung member. I gulped when I looked at it, and looked back at him. His eyes were mesmerizing.

I took my hands to my pajamas to undress and asked:

"Did I faint?"

"Yeah, You did. Don't worry, I didn't see anything, I changed your clothes with a spell. You still might be wearing a bra" he smirked.

"Well.. I am yours, I always was, so you could do that too" I said as I took my shirt off. His eyes wandered around me. His smirk widened and he asked:

"Do what, principessa?"

"Undress me with your bare hands."

"Fuck.. Bunny you just keep suprising me" he said and went in closer, I could feel his hot breath on my collarbones. I started unclasping my bra but he stopped me.

"No, let me.." His eyes were still glued to my eyes, and his hands went to the back of my bra and started unclasping it.

This process was so peaceful and slow, but it was also eating me from the inside. We both wanted to make this special for both of us. It was full of contact, full of love.

He finally removed my bra and looked at my already swollen nipples, my breasts bounced a bit which made him smirk and I blushed from embarrassment. He was admiring my every move.

I laid back on bed and looked at him as he went up to me and removed my shorts, then underwear. I was fully naked, laying in front of him.

His harmonic eyes went in complete chaos, wandering all over my body, praising me and shining every time they went to my glimsing centre.

"You are a goddess, mio caro" he whispered against the inside of my thigh. I flinched and moaned out as he started sucking and kissing.

He sucked on my nipple and massaged the other one. He went to my core then, teasing my clit. He entered me with his tongue. I looked at him with my mouth slightly open, gasping for air as he did unbelievably pleasurable things to me.

"So wet for me" I blushed as he said that. It was true.

"You're so soft and delicious, bunny" he whimpered in my ear, squeezing my breasts tightly. I moaned again, signaling him for more. Once I was wet enough, he took my hands and put them above my head.

"I am going to enter you right now, tell me if you want to stop" I nodded at him and he slowly traced his tip on my cunt up and down, making me shiver and wanting more already. I was hungry for him, we were 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 for each other.

He slowly entered me and groaned, and once it was fully in, he slammed it inside and started fucking my like it was the last thing he got to do in his life.

I moaned, squirmed, squealed and he groaned, fucking me like an animal. he whimpered between his strong thrusts "Sei così perfetta, principessa" (ᥡ᥆ᥙ ᥲrᥱ ⍴ᥱr𝖿ᥱᥴ𝗍, ⍴rіᥒᥴᥱss). Even though I couldn't understand Italian, his words caught me off guard, made me blush and go crazy, moaning and yelling his name as he fucked me like an eclipse hit us.

"Fuck.. I am coming, Theo" I moaned out as I noticed my stomach was curling into a tight string.

"Scream my name as you come, bunny" he whispered, he was holding in his cum too, waiting for me this whole time. "You can come" he said and I released while screaming his name like it was the only thing I've ever heard of. He pulled out his cock, erecting on my face and tits.

"You're so fucking perfect" he mumbled once again while caressing my collarbone and breasts.

I smiled and said "I love you". His face became all red as he answered " I love you more, bunny. Now let me clean my principessa up, I'm not leaving you like this"

I smiled even more as he took me by my waist, in his arms.

[lennadanvers]

Hi! I love everything youve written with my entire fucking heart like you dont understand there hasnt been a single thing of yours that I havent liked! Anyways, I was wondering if you could write some more Simon Riley? You write him so well it isnt even funny. If you cant, no worries! I think youre amazing!!!!

Hi! Thanks a lot for the praise, it means a lot (you don't even know how much, I'm pretty new to fanfic writing and posting stuff is still kinda terrifying, but when people say things like this it warms my heart). Anyway, I had this sitting in my drafts for way too long, and found the energy to finish it today. Sorry for the delay, I hope you still enjoy it.

Thanks for your patience <3

Every coin has two faces

Ghost doesn’t like to think about himself.

Maybe the mask is an effort to conceal his own face when he walks past a mirror, rather than to guard his identity. Maybe it has a double purpose. Maybe it’s just one: to hide. Whatever the case, Simon Riley avoided thinking about himself. Of how he looked. How he sounded. Or moved-

Until he had met you.

Fresh blood. As in a new recruit and as in that you were bleeding the first time he saw you. Despite the bloody nose, there was something there. A burn in your eyes. The sharp smile you threw to the recruit laying at your feet. To the one responsible for your pain. Sparring wasn’t supposed to be this dirty, but they had crossed the line. And you had slaughtered it in response. A fucking demon; you had become violence on the flesh and unleashed something nasty upon them.

Once you had won the fight -not fair and square, but they had asked for it-, you stopped. Put the leash on whatever it was that took over you, and stepped back, hand to your bloody face.

Simon smelled something rotten.

For the untrained nose, it wasn’t noticeable. Most people would have looked at you and seen a surprisingly skilled recruit, that’s it. But he saw himself. Broken recognizes broken, he supposes. The anger ready to jump out. The control; years of training that someone as young as you would only have if they started before even learning to talk.

That’s what it was, wasn’t it? You were another survivor. Another messed up past. Another broken child who grew into a desperate, cold monster.

Ghost saw himself in you.

It went downhill from there. Simon Riley knew it was a bad idea, he was a bad idea. But you were so good. Scary good. Too damn close to perfect for him to be at ease. He kept an eye on you. From afar. Very, very far. From a second-floor window. From his elevated position as a sniper in the field. From a couple dozens of yards in the training area. Through Soap’s gossip.

Simon Riley had never been so close to liking himself. You were fast, methodic, smart and precise. You were strong, witty, sarcastic and poisonous. He was interested, involved, captivated and weirdly vulnerable.

It haunted Ghost how much of himself he saw in you. It just made the few contrasts (sparkly smile, short body, soft curves) feel sweeter. Just made him want to be closer. If you were so… So beautiful, so elegant, deadly, appealing, valuable… Maybe he was, too. Maybe it happened to you too. Maybe, when you looked at him, you saw yourself. Maybe you understood.

That’s why the way you looked at him it chipped his heart a little.

He had never considered himself particularly handsome. Just a man. But this man had a good body -strong, healthy, taller than most. He was good at his job- effective, respected, he had earned his position. He knew not to get into other people’s business, and he had a decent sense of humor. Some women had even complimented his accent- apparently his voice was quite attractive. The few that had seen his face hadn’t complained, either.

Obviously, he didn’t expect everyone to be interested in him. Simon knew the mask weirded some people out. But it wasn’t the mask, was it?

It was him.

You looked at him like he was the president of the welcoming committee of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Like you’d shoot him if he took a step too close (he never stood within less than six meters from your personal space, mind you). Whenever he entered the room, you stabbed him with your side eye. If Ghost had to walk past you in the hallway, you’d stick to the wall like a fucking tree frog, for God’s sake. And he hadn’t even talked to you directly.

Simon hadn’t been able to wrap his head around it.

Until now, that is. After you had been chosen to go with the team to a mission. One that was supposed to be easy. In and out. No more than a couple hours. No finding a place to stay the night. No ending up divided in a couple different locations. And definitely no spending the night hiding with you.

Alone.

There had been bullets flying everywhere. He was calm, fast. You knew better than to give him dirty looks when he dragged you to safety. But you were looking at him now. And he was terrified.

All this time, the scarred, broken kid inside him had recognized the scared, lost kid inside you. Ghost had seen himself in you.

But you had seen someone else in him.

His broad figure and trained muscles weren’t attractive, were they? They were menacing. His stealth, aim and training weren’t worthy of admiration, but fear. The hard-earned respect, the power, was nothing but a weapon, a strategic position from which to attack. Your dirty looks were the hate you had spent years nursing. God, the way you pressed against the wall in the hallways- your most basic instincts keeping you away from the predator.

Simon is a threat to you.

And you’re looking at him as if he was his father.

Ghost stares back at you from across the abandoned building you’re going to have to spend the whole night in. He’s going to be sick- you look sick. Simon knows how you feel. Being trapped in a house with a man who can beat you into a bloody pulp. Someone bigger, stronger and more powerful. Big body, hard knuckles and labored breath. Next to him, you’re so small. You’re weaker, have less experience and power over him. And you can’t leave: it would be worse. You’re trapped with him.

Alone.

It kills him, the way you step away from his body as soon as you can. How you don’t look him in the eyes, following his hands instead. He feels disgusting.

Simon takes a deep breath and forces his voice to sound calm- he’s not- and quiet.

“You alright? No wounds?”

He knows both answers: no and no. But he has to ask. Has to let you know he cares. He’s on your side. Here to take care of you. Not to hurt.

You shake your head.

“Good. Gonna stay ‘ere tonight. The others can’t be far. Contact Price to let ‘im know our position.”

A nod. He’s used to giving orders, but right now his voice sounded harsher than he would have liked to hear. Ghost winces.

“Thank you.”

It’s the surprise in your eyes that ignites his hope. He’s not an asshole. Maybe.

You don’t trust him, either way. After you eat- pressed against the wall, knees between you and him-, it’s time to prepare for the night. Simon knows how he’d feel if he was in your place. He’s more than sure you’re not happy sleeping in the same room as the big, creepy guy with military equipment who reminds you of a nightmare.

He takes off the gloves first. Someone told him he has nice hands, once. They’re brutal. But human. The mask is next. Usually- always- it stays on during missions, even if they last days. He can make an exception. His naked hand undresses the chin, the mouth, the nose- the scars. Simon bats his short eyelashes, as if the dim light of the sun setting was bothering him- he wants to show you he’s weak. He can be.

You stare at him from the other side of the room, still, a deer in headlights. Simon tucks the mask and his gloves into one of his pockets. Decides he’s keeping the bulletproof vest. But he can spare his gun. And the sniper rifle. And his knives- except for the one hidden inside his pants: he’s not undressing in front of your terrified eyes, and at least he has something to defend himself with, in case the enemy finds you. Everything else goes into a pile on the floor. He then steals a glance at you.

You’re looking at him unsure. He’s not only your superior, but a ruthless soldier. This is not the protocol. In fact, he’s being quite stupid by choosing to spend the night disarmed.

Simon shrugs. He’s not going to explain himself to you.

“’s uncomfortable to sleep with all that metal. ‘m a fucking bell.”

You give him another nod. It’s weird, how much you talk around other people. You’re usually loud, even your laugh. You laugh with other people. He’s seen you laugh at Soap’s jokes. He’s heard you teasing him about his accent.

Or, rather than that, the weird thing is how quiet you are next to him.

Ghost likes his recruits obedient and focused. Makes it easier to give orders if people have a cool head and are ready to follow. But you’re not. You’re ready to fight, flight or freeze, and you don’t trust him. You don’t trust he’ll keep you alive and well. Because you’re too busy making sure he can’t hurt you.

Except he can. He could. If he wanted. He doesn’t. For the life of him, he does not want to hurt you. Simon himself is terrified of the possibility.

Ghost knows it’s an absurd idea. He has no reason to. He is your superior, and you’re together in this. You’re supposed to watch each other’s backs. To be a team.

But right now, all you are is terrified.

And he doesn’t know how to make it stop. So he resorts to giving you choices.

“Wan’ the first watch?”

Say no, and he’ll make sure not even a cockroach crosses that door. You’ll be safer than in base.

You nod.

He bares his neck. Ghost has seen your teeth, and they’re more than enough to cause serious damage. Go on, he’s telling you, make sure I can’t fight back. Simon doesn’t say it, of course. Instead, he lays on the cold floor, away from the door and from you. Look, he’s out of the way. You can run, if you want to. You can wait until he’s asleep, grab his weapons and disappear. You can hide somewhere else until the sun rises. He just knows you’re good at hiding. He turns his back to you. There, it is yours to stab. If he ever gave you any reason to feel like this about him, by all means, go on. End his misery. But, most importantly, end yours. Take your pick, he left you an arsenal. He’s dying a death by his own weapons either way.

The shadow your body casts on the wall stays still a long time. It’s been well after an hour since he slowed his breathing down when you finally move into a comfortable position. The ruffling of your clothes and the little sigh you let out make him feel a little less cold. A little less like a monster.

When the sun wakes him up the next morning, you’re still sleeping. Ghost should reprimand you severely; should have woken him up, should have made sure someone was watching the door. But he can’t find it in him to do it, to betray this shadow of trust.

So Simon takes a mental picture of your relaxed face- he’s never seen it so close, it’s a sight worth risking his life for- and turns around. He pretends to sleep until you wake up and start making noise.

I hope you liked it, thanks again for the ask <3

If you (or anyone) have an idea/request/suggestion, I'll be happy to read them. It may take some time, but I promise I'll do my best. Also, I'm sorry if I made any mistakes, English is not my first language and today my brain was particularly confused. Just let me know and I'll fix it.

Masterlist here