#sorry it’s short I kinda ran out of ideas

[princesseilish]

RELAX, PLEASE

Clarisse la rue x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, kinda short? light teasing

Synopsis: y/n wants her gf to be more mindful with her emotions

It was a calm afternoon at Camp Half-Blood, the sun casting its golden glow over the clearing. Y/N sat on one of the logs near the campfire, flipping through a book that had been handed down from the Aphrodite cabin. Clarisse was nearby, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed as she glared at the empty space in front of her.

“Claire, are you really just going to stand there and brood all day?” Y/N called out, an amused smile tugging at her lips. Clarisse huffed, clearly annoyed by something—probably the usual day-to-day nonsense that always seemed to get under her skin.

“Don’t start with me, Y/N,” Clarisse muttered, her voice tight with frustration. “I’ve had a day, okay?”

Y/N closed her book and patted the space beside her. “Come here, Claire. Let me show you something.”

Clarisse shot her a look, then rolled her eyes. “What is this, some kind of… emotional therapy session? I don’t need a lecture.”

Y/N grinned, her tone playful. “It’s not a lecture. Just trust me, okay?”

Clarisse hesitated for a moment before she stalked over and sat down beside Y/N, still clearly on edge. Y/N took a deep breath, her gaze softening as she spoke.

“You don’t always have to use frustration to deal with your emotions. There’s more than one way to handle things.”

Clarisse snorted, clearly skeptical. “That sounds stupid.”

Y/N chuckled. “It’s not stupid, Claire. Look, we can start small. When you feel that frustration building up, instead of taking it out on everyone, just… breathe. Like this.” Y/N took a slow, deliberate breath in, holding it for a second before exhaling. “See? It’s simple.”

Clarisse shot her a deadpan look. “Are you serious? Breathing? That’s your big idea?”

Y/N tilted her head, grinning mischievously. “You’d be surprised. You know, if you don’t at least try, I might have to—”

She paused, looking away dramatically before turning back to Clarisse with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“—break up with you.”

Clarisse blinked, her face dropping as she stared at Y/N. For a moment, it seemed like she didn’t even know how to respond. Y/N, realizing her joke had landed a little too seriously, scrambled for something to say. “I’m joking! I’m just kidding, Claire, relax!”

But Clarisse was already standing up, looking down at Y/N with a frown.

“No. I don’t think that’s funny.” Her voice was low, tense, and Y/N could see the hurt behind her words. “You want me to change how I handle things, and you threaten to break up with me over it?”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the misunderstanding. She stood up quickly, grabbing Clarisse’s wrist. “No, no, listen to me, Claire. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear, I just wanted to get you to give this a shot.”

Clarisse, still not looking convinced, pulled away slightly. “Well, you didn’t make it sound like a joke.”

Y/N’s heart ached a little, seeing Clarisse’s walls go up. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to help you feel better… and not always use anger to deal with things.”

Clarisse let out a breath, her shoulders sagging as the frustration from earlier melted away, replaced by the weight of the conversation. She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m just so… tired, Y/N. Tired of fighting everything all the time. It’s hard.”

Y/N stepped closer, taking Clarisse’s hand gently. “I know, babe. I know. But you don’t have to fight alone. And you don’t have to be angry to be strong.”

Clarisse looked at Y/N, her expression softening as she realized the depth of what Y/N was trying to say. “I… I’ll try. For you. But I can’t promise I’ll be perfect.”

Y/N smiled, pulling her into a tight hug. “You don’t have to be perfect, Claire. You just have to try.”

And for the first time that day, Clarisse actually smiled, her frustration fading into something more peaceful.

“Okay. I’ll try,” she murmured, resting her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Clarisse’s face. “Good. And just so you know… no more breakup jokes, okay?”

Clarisse let out a small laugh. “Deal.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world seemed just a little bit lighter.

[scaryman-fancam]

REVENANT - misc - how Revenant behaves during a crush - implied violence/canon typical behavior

- Revenant would never tell you he has feelings for you. Likely you’d draw your own assumption based on the instances you’d caught him following you, a silent chase you’d chosen to ignore as it never ended in your demise. You had caught him one night, but didn’t want him to know you’d seen him. How would you escape him otherwise? You play it cool, deciding to extend your walk home to 30 minutes, avoiding heading directly home, or to anyplace you would be cornered. 30 minutes came and gone, and he still followed. The longer you were out, the less people you saw, and he was still following. If he were to kill you… why hadn’t he yet? Was he toying with you? You give up and hurry home, hiding in your home and waiting for his ambush, but you survive another day. The next few nights are the same. It almost becomes routine to watch for his reflection behind yours in shop windows across the street out of the corner of your eye, or to listen to the eerily soothing sound of his quiet footfalls some distance away. He mimicked your step pattern, hoping you’d believe it was an echo, but by now you’d grown fond of the quiet metal scraping that shadowed your own steps. He’s like a guard dog, in a way.

- If you were a fellow legend, you’d be extremely aware of this emotional affliction of his, whether you were certain it was positive or negative though, is really a toss up. Many of the other legends worry about your safety. They had never seen Revenant behave so strangely, so they assume he’s got some grudge against you. On the field he’s either right up against you, observing you a little too closely, those glowing eyes burning into the back of your head as you try to ignore him and focus on the game, or he’s criticizing and questioning your every move.

- This may just be Revenant’s first ‘crush’ since becoming a simulacrum. He doesn’t understand it quite yet, so instead of being nervous around you, he feels agitated. Everything to do with you makes him feel… funny. You must be messing with his programming, or something, or at least that’s what he assures himself. So starting off he is more aggressive, chastising you for getting too close or being too chatty, and even chasing to interrogate you when he witnesses you hanging around coworkers like Crypto, Loba, or Caustic. Are you teaming up with the hacker to do something nefarious to him? Or have you formed a pack with Caustic to weaken his defenses and dissect him once in for all? He does manage to realize his feelings once he discovers he’d be more upset by a third option: you are simply getting to be ‘closer’ with any of them.

- He definitely throws tantrums, and they aren’t pretty. He is usually an unreadable person, especially because he can’t make facial expressions, but when he’s jealous? He’s still unreadable but just frighteningly so. He sulks away after seeing Elliott “innocently” talking to you about a “mirage a trois,” his hands extended fully as he drags the claws along the ground, the walls, the doors, the windows; pulling up carpet, scraping paint off the walls, and pulling doors a little too hard, leaving them hanging crooked off of their hinges. Once he finally has a moment of peace and solitude, whether that be in the training grounds or in his quarters, he destroys EVERYTHING in his path. Its not until there’s so much gunshot residue on his hands that it’s making his metal joints stick that he finally gives it a rest, jamming the gun through one of the dummies as a final “fuck you” to the substitute for the object of his current hatred. You wouldn’t see him for a few days, that’s for sure. He’d try not to hold it against you, but if he finds that you’re not on his team, he’ll use the opportunity to satiate his grudge against you, and to feel needlessly close to you again.

[luveline]

Hiii!! Could I request a bombshell reader x Spencer where someone (a local police maybe) says something rude to her about her appearance or something and normally it doesn’t really get to her, but something snaps and she kinda shuts down/is rude to Spencer until he coaxes it out of her? Sorry it’s long I had an idea and ran w it loollll

ty for requesting angel! confident fem!reader, 1k

Spencer shouldn’t expect his colleague to hold his hand, especially one so confident. What sense would that make, a woman as established as you are, who smiles without a lick of worry nor smugness, wanting to hold his hand? 

But you do it all the time, is the thing. In the car on the way to crime scenes, in the hallways of the office, under the round table. It started as a tethering for his distractedness, when one day he’d wanted to talk but hadn’t had the presence of mind to walk at the same time, so you’d taken his hand and led him to the office. You’ve been taking it at your discretion ever since.  

Spencer knows something is wrong —you haven’t tried to hold his hand all day. And even if you aren’t interested in him romantically, Spencer has come to crave the touch. He’ll accept platonic hand holding. Anything, really. 

“You’re staring very deeply, Dr. Reid,” you mutter, shades from your usual lightness. 

“I’m thinking.” 

“Aren’t you always?” 

“About you.”

“Well,” you smile fleetingly. “You should always be thinking about me.” 

“You’re truly humble.” 

His joke doesn’t land, it crashes and burns; your smile fades completely into a short, sharp line. Your gaze moves back into the restaurant, waiting for the team's food order in silence once again. 

Spencer’s pinky finger twitches across the gap. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Fine.” 

You stay quiet, Spencer worries. He takes the bags before you can when they bring your food to the collection desk, two lumps of heat he holds to his thighs as you begin the walk back to the hotel. Tonight, the team will pick at their food together and rehash the same arguments they’ve been making all day, filling in each other's gaps, and tomorrow the work will start again. He can’t have you this unhappy again tomorrow. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, watching you turn to him from the corner of his eye, “you know you are, we all do, everyone who meets you. I know you don’t need me to tell you that, or to feel better, but… I’m here for you. If you want to talk. It’s been a hard couple of days, and talking about traumatic events as they happen and directly afterward make them easier to recover from.” 

“I’m not traumatised.” 

“Upsetting,” he corrects. “Having a shoulder to cry on is good for you, and I can be that shoulder. You know, if you need me to be.” 

He can’t know this in the moment, though maybe one day you’ll tell him, further down the line when the hand holding is better defined, but you look at him and you love him. To know Spencer is to love him. Or at least that’s how you’ve always felt. You’d love to cry on his shoulder about what transpired that morning if it weren’t embarrassing to think about, you’re upset over a throwaway comment made by nobody important. 

Spencer offers his company earnestly. He stammers. It’s amazingly sincere, as he usually is. He won’t mind if it’s embarrassing, he’ll just listen. 

You clear your throat. “I know I’m not to everyone’s taste. I know that the way I… present myself isn’t what most men like. People love confidence, but not when it’s bossy, not when it’s– when it’s vain. And I am vain. I think about my appearance a lot, I think I’m beautiful most of the time, I try so hard to have that be true.” You eye him thoughtfully. “Do you realise that?” 

He shakes his head gently, one ear toward one shoulder and then the other, as though balancing. “Sort of. I know you put effort into your appearance, but I also assume a lot of it to be natural.” 

“Right, well. It’s not natural. Not really. My natural beauty wouldn’t be all the beautiful to most people. And I’ve accepted that, I know what I like about myself, and–” You’re losing the thread of your point, an upset creeping into your melodic tone and turning it ragged. “When people tell me they don’t like how I look now, I guess it hurts because I know they wouldn’t like me before, either, and I feel defeated because I know I can’t win.” 

“Who said they don’t like how you look?” Spencer asks, confused, on his way to annoyed. 

“Officer Friendly.” You look to your shoes, watching the steps you take. “Guess he wasn’t as nice as we thought.” 

“What did he say to you?” 

You shrug. “Same story. He doesn’t like girls who wear makeup. Doesn’t like uppity women.” 

“Did he call you that?” 

“What are you gonna do if he did?” you ask without malice. 

“Morgan’s teaching me self defence for a reason.” You smile at his light joke, though it doesn’t last. He transfers the takeout bags into one hand, the other held out to you, his fingers sliding down your arm to your wrist. “You know you’re beautiful, with or without makeup. And you’re not uppity, you’re out of his league. There’s a difference.” 

“You’re flirting with me.” 

“No.” He wishes he had the wherewithal sometimes, but this isn’t flirting. “I’m being honest with you. Men like that don’t like you because they know they’ll never, ever have you, or anyone like you. There isn’t anyone like you,” he adds, sliding his hand into yours. 

He squeezes all your fingers together twice in quick succession. 

“Don’t let a jealous chauvinist halfwit make you think you’re not good enough,” he says. 

You curl your fingers around his before he can take his hand back. Slowly, you squeeze his hand. Then, smiling, you let him go. 

“I’ve never heard you say something mean like that,” you say. “Halfwit. That’s crass.” 

“I was going to say he’s an asshole, if that’s better.” 

Your laugh echoes off of the sidewalk. “That’s perfect. Say something meaner.” 

The insult he uses next doesn’t bear repeating. 

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we��ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[libraryofolive]

when you send them a photo in lingerie

featuring: Satoru Gojo, Choso Kamo, Suguru Geto and Kento Nanami

genre: smau, crack, suggestive (18+ - MDNI)

warnings: language, suggestive

Like this? You can find my other smaus here and my drabbles and fics here!

Want to send me a request? They are currently open and you can find my rules here!

a/n: sorry this is a bit short! I kinda ran out of ideas ngl

[blvdprn]

— GLOOMY STALKER

idia shroud x dom!male reader

somebody has been following you around, but every time you look behind you all you were able to find was an empty space. that is until you cornered the perpetrator and he had nowhere else to go.

nsfw — handjob, grinding, consent IS there it just wasn’t mentioned, stalker!idia, self-deprecation (it’s idia guys), popular!reader, reader is kinda into it, semi-public?, no actual sex

wc: 1,024

Again, just like every other day, the feeling of eyes following your figure accompanied you everywhere. It’s been weeks since this started. The irritation on your face whenever you felt the unknown presence made your friends concerned, worriedly asking if you were alright. You always made sure to tell them “Yes, everything’s fine, I just haven’t slept well.” At some point, they knew that was a lie, but they kept asking the same thing, hoping you’d tell them the truth.

One day, you had the great idea of separating yourself from your friend’s side. Your lack of presence goes unnoticed, for a short while, that is. And while they were running around like headless chickens trying to find you, you were already far gone, almost sprinting to an abandoned hallway —one that held rumors of ghosts haunting it.

Hiding behind an old, and dirty human-like metal armor, you waited until you were able to hear the footsteps of the one you were excited to catch. With their back turned toward you, all you could see was that they had their hood up, blocking their hair from view. They were also skinny and quite tall, but their hunched shoulders made them look smaller.

With them looking the other way, they didn’t notice you inching closer. Now, with you a couple of feet away from them, you could hear their heavy pants, almost like they weren’t used to running a lot.

‘Unathletic.’ You noted.

Hurriedly, you took long silent strides, slamming your left hand over their mouth while the other arm wrapped around their waist, dragging them back into the quiet corner.

Turns out, the somebody was the resident's gloomy house warden. He’d been following you around like a lost puppy, either by looming over your shoulder or by watching you through the hallway cameras. That would explain why he followed you in here. He didn’t know about this place, seeing as there were no cameras for him to use.

For weeks, he tried hard to get rid of his crush on you. Often spying, he hoped that he caught a slip in your persona, thinking about how nobody was that perfect. Sometimes, Idia wanted you to catch him, to reveal an awful side of you so the one-sided crush he had would forcefully fade away with the humiliation you would surely show him. After all, he was nothing but a gross otaku. An ugly loser virgin that was nothing compared to you.

This is why when he ran after your silhouette, the last thing he expected was for a deity like you to do something out of a hentai.

Which is what brings you to now, hand deep in somebody else’s pants, his face buried into your shoulder.

Your dick was hard, begging for some attention. Right now though, you were too busy making the third-year moan in pleasure, seeing as he’d never experienced something like this with somebody else.

“Mmh…” Idia let out, biting your shoulder with his sharp teeth, making you hiss at the pain.

“Tch,” you clicked your tongue in annoyance. “Don’t hide your moans, you don’t deserve it after what you did.”

He whined in embarrassment, reluctantly releasing your shoulder from his shark-like teeth. Instead, he tried to stop his sounds by thinking of something else, but that quickly failed when your thumb rubbed around his tip.

“Ah!”

You huffed. “Pay attention to me. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Mmm— ‘M sorry..”

Your remaining hand then went inside his pants, grabbing the base of his cock. Rubbing it up and down, the other twisted at the top, your wrist aching a bit with all the movement.

“Ngh! Ohhh!” With Idia’s face in clear view, hood down, you could see the way his hair changed from blue to pink, eyes rolling back a bit.

‘Shit, he’s so cute.’

Not being able to take it anymore, you pulled out your hands and released his dick. Grabbing him by the waist, you turned Idia around so his face was against the wall, back arched towards you.

“O-ow.”

Quickly, you resumed what you were doing.

With Idia’s ass facing your direction, you pushed your hips against it, instantly liking the way his round ass and both of your pants created delicious friction. Rolling your hips and grinding, you saw the way Idia struggled with deciding on what to do. On one end, all he wanted was for your hands to jerk him off until he couldn’t cum anymore. On the other, he wanted and craved the way the outline of your dick just barely rubbed in between his ass.

Gosh, he couldn’t believe this was even happening. How could someone like you do this with someone like him? Were you not disgusted?

“What did I say about paying attention?” you groaned, increasing the pace of your thrusts and hands.

“S-sorry didn’t mean to.”

Hips shaking, you knew Idia was close, the twitching of his cock and the way his hair flared up gave it away. As if it wasn't enough, his moans and whimpers also grew in volume, and you saw how Idia’s nails scratched the thin wallpaper in front of him.

Your grinding against him turned rapid and damn near savage. One of your hands slid down, playing with the heavy set of balls below his dick. Not even five seconds later, Idia let out a pleasurable scream, feeling his orgasm come from the set of skilled hands that were still working.

With Idia’s hot cum all over your palms and fingers, you rutted your hips against him. Letting out a fat load inside your underwear, you could do nothing but wish that it was instead inside your stalker’s hole.

“HaaaAh— Please, it h-hurts!”

‘Oh shit.’

You forgot that you were still fisting his dick.

Hands instantly letting go, you had to wrap your arms around his waist so he wouldn’t collapse onto the floor. All you could hear were his loud gasps, echoing around the empty hallway.

Later on, you’d come to hear about a new set of ghost rumors. Ones that contained weird noises coming from the hallway you two were in.

notes: idia is so cute i need to give him a sloppy handjob and hear him cry about it. 😕

[jasmines-library]

hi love! idk if you are interested or not but i had an idea of reader being friends with lilly and severus but also with the marauders untill the oh so fateful day were sev ruined his friendship with lilly and reader. i love the idea of lilly ending up in james's arms and reader in sirius's (they are my boys sorry sev🤭)

thank you and again, only if you want! have a wonderful day lovely!

Only Human

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Warnings: Slurs (mudblood), swearing bullying kinda, negativity but fluffy ending

Word Count: 1.7k

⛧ MARAUDERS MASTERLIST⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Severus Snape was resting against a tree when it happened. The castle sat opposite him, just a short way across the clear water. The small ripples created by the creatures in the lake and the summer breeze often distracted him from the book that he rested between his knees and his chest as he tucked them up closely. It was this exact reason that he hadn't noticed the band of robe-clad gryffindors trudging up the slope toward him. James Potter led the group, he wore his signature charismatic grin; a smirk that twinged the corner of his lip upwards and made his nose scrunch beneath his glasses, and he had his wand held loosely in his hand. He twisted the delicate tool between his fingers as you would a drumstick. Sauntering over to Severus, he chuckled at his friends, nudging them playfully with his shoulder. 

“Snape!” He jested, calling out to him. 

His head snapped up, but he kept his back planted firmly against the tree as the group of marauders ran up to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, just hoping that they would turn and leave. But they were bored and Severus, who had been particularly troublesome toward them, had caught their eyes. Severus inched himself up against the tree so that he rose to his feet and began to turn back in the direction of the castle. 

James frowned, a look of mock pity set on his face. “Leaving already, Snivellus?”

Snape reached for his wand, but kept his back to them.  “Fuck off, Potter. I don’t want trouble.”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to turn your back to someone when they’re talking to you, Snape.” Sirius asked him. 

Severus whipped around quickly, his wand poised to cast a spell at them but James beat him to it; with one flick of his hand Snape's wand went flying across the river bank. He paled, the four Marauders stepping closer to him. 

“Nice one, James.” Sirius cheered. 

The dark haired boy backed up slowly, setting his gaze. The four of them were edging closer, threatening him with their wands when you spotted them. You had just finished class and were heading over to the lake with Lily, arm in arm. The two of you were over there in seconds when you saw your friends threatening each other. Much to your boyfriend's dismay, you and Severus had been friends from the beginning of the first year. You met him on the train; a shy boy with long hair who didn’t quite seem certain of the world. Lily bonded with him quickly, and you followed soon after. It wasn’t long after that that you met Sirius Black. Charming, brave, daring; he was the complete opposite to Snape, but you supposed that was what drew you to him so much. It was their clash in personalities that made the two clash. It seemed as though they were always doing something to wind up the other.

This time it had gone too far. You were unsure of what Sev had done to wind up the Marauders so much, but you and Lily were skidding to a stop beside them in a heartbeat. 

James caught a glimpse of Lily’s fiery hair out of the corner of his eye. “Lilyflower-”

“Leave him alone, James.” It wasn’t quite a demand, Lily never had that sort of aggressiveness in her, but her voice was firm. She didn’t want her friend to get hurt. 

“Ah, Evans, Don’t make me hex you.” James sighed, a playful twinge on his tongue.

“I’m serious.” Lily repeated when James refused to lower his wand, letting it loll around between his fingers. 

“No,” Sirius smirked. “I am.”

You gave him a hard stare through narrow eyes, and his smirk dropped. “Siri. Please.”

The boy nodded, nudging his friend who promptly pocketed his wand. Severus seemed taken back, his steps faltering. He glanced gratefully in your direction, though his anger and embarrassment were unmistakable in his eyes. 

“You’re lucky that they were here to help you, Snape.”

“I don’t need help from filthy mudbloods.”

You had expected many things from Severus, but those words were not one of them. He spat them with venom; malice intending to bite deep. And bite deep it did. 

You froze, eyes glassing over with tears. Serverus Snape had made an incredibly low blow; as a muggleborn, it was safe to say that it took some time to come to terms with your letter to Hogwarts. You were excited, of course but your parents were far from keen. Lily experienced the same thing with her sister too. Things didn’t get much better when you arrived at Hogwarts either. Some saw you as ‘impure’. Unworthy. Sev knew this and he had chosen to use it against you. Perhaps it was in a moment of spite, perhaps he hadn’t meant to say it at all. But all that mattered in that moment was that Severus Snape was just like the rest of them.   

You could see Sirius glance your way out of the corner of your eye, but when he took a step toward you you backed away. 

“Fuck you, Snape.” You spat back at him, trying to hide the waver in your voice. 

“You should watch your mouth, Snivellus.” Lily glared at him before turning on her heel and making her way promptly back to the castle before anyone else could say a word. 

You were left standing between the two groups, both slightly shell shocked, in silence.

Sirius, now full of guilt, opened his mouth to talk, but you pursued Lily before he could even form the first syllable.

 The tears came flooding in quickly after that. 

~

Sirius hadn’t seen you for the rest of the day. and that was partly because you refused to come out of the girls bathroom. He had even tried to get Moaning Myrtle to coax you out to talk to him, but still you refused to show your face as you curled up on the bathroom tile. It made his stomach churn. 

His pit of guilt dug itself deeper as he sat in class. Sirius’ leg bounced restlessly during potions and there was just as much ink on the page at the start of the lesson as there was at the end. The detention he was also given didn’t help ease his thoughts. His mind wandered to the worse case scenarios. It was his fault for provoking Snape… What if you never wanted to talk to him again? He was up in an instant when the fateful day came to an end and he could return to the common room. He dragged his feet up to the portrait and muttered the words to open it. Every part of him itched to see your face mingling amongst the crowd. 

At first, he didn’t see you. But he managed to make out the crown of your head resting against an armchair tucked away in the corner by the fire. His face softened when he saw the tear tracks staining your face where you had failed to wipe them away properly.  

You had spent practically the last two hours crying. Everytime the flood stopped, it seemed to start up again. Severus was supposed to be your friend and he had discarded you just like that. The back of your eyes stung, glassy beads threatening to spill again. When you finally braved it enough to make it back to the common room, you couldn’t bear to go up to your room. You hardly spent any time there anyway because you spent much of it lounging around in Sirius’ bed with the other marauders…and you were angry and Sirius. 

No… perhaps angry was too strong a word. Hurt. Hurt by his actions and his and James’ thoughtlessness. Being up in your room would have just reminded you of that. So instead you settled down with a book by the fire trying to distract yourself and let the world move around you. 

It didn’t take Sirius very long to reach you. He crossed the common room in a few wide strides. 

“Love?” Siri asked hesitantly. 

You peeked up at him meekly. Your eyes were red raw and puffy, it made the boy frown. Sniffing, you wiped your eyes with the hem of your sleeve. “Oh.. hi Siri.” you mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“Oh Lovey. I’m so sorry.” He melted, sliding onto the arm of the chair beside you. 

“ ‘ts okay. It’s not your fault…”

Sirius scowled. You were far too kind for your own good. He knew exactly what you had been through and made him sick just thinking that you weren’t allowing anyone to take the blame for it. “But it is, Dove. I shouldn’t have provoked him. If I had stopped James and just kept my mouth shut then you wouldn’t have had to come over in the first place.”

A tear spilled from your eyes and all of a sudden you broke all over again. “He was supposed to be my friend, Pads.” You blubbered, voice wavering. “He’s just like the rest of them…”

Sirius took your hands in his, pressing a kiss to them. “You didn’t deserve any of this, my love. I am so, so sorry.”

“Maybe they’re right….” You trailed off. “Maybe I am worthless. If Sev thinks so too then-”

“Shh.” Sirius pressed another kiss to your temple as he scooped you up into his arms. Burying your face into his chest you continued to cry. He trailed his fingers over your back. “You’ve never been more wrong in your life, Lovey. You are worth so much more than that. You’re kind, brave and not to mention the most beautiful girl in the world. You’re worth everything to me. Who gives a crap what they think?”

You sniffled, unsure. 

“I mean it.”

You looked up at him, wiping away your tears; a ghost of a smile on your lips. 

“I love you.” Siri whispered, kissing you softly.

“I love you too.” You settled your head against his chest, shifting to curl against him. 

It was there that James and Lily found you later, entwined with each other and sleeping peacefully. Safe within each other's arms.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

MARAUDERS TAGS:

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[whore4gwen]

Can I request a Smut with Alcina and reader where reader was actually sent to eliminate Alcina but then Alcina kinda like catches and hate fucks her? Only consensual ofc but something akin to enemies to lovers?

🐰-anon

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙･ﾟ･｡

A/N: I LOVE this idea omg?? I’m so incredibly sorry for how long it actually took me to write this. With my classes starting up again, I’ve been so overwhelmed and busy.

This may not be exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

Tags: Enemies to lovers dynamic, talks of death & torture, teasing, blood, fear play (?), praise kink, submissive/ dominant dynamics, top Alcina, bottom reader, unwanted yearning, delusions, fingering, degradation if you squint, hand riding, daddy Alcina vibes, ambiguous ending, I think that’s it lmk if I missed any!!

Word count: 2.4K

I apologize for any grammar mistakes, as of current it’s unedited, but I’m so tired so I’ll do it later tomorrow.

———————————————————————-

You had one mission. One seemingly normal, manageable mission.

All you needed to do was observe her, and gather as much information as you could about her.

Alcina Dimitrescu.

That name did wonders. It almost excited you as much as it infuriated you. The damn nerve of that woman was what drove you so impossibly close to the edge.

Her heated gaze burnt into the back of your mind. Gold ripples clouds your vision.

You didn’t have time for this. Any of it really. Chris, along with several other BSSA members would be there any day to take them out. Every monstrosity they call ‘family’.

In the four short weeks at Castle Dimitrescu, you unintentionally became Alcina’s head maiden.

How you managed to accomplish that was beyond you. It did make you wonder. You hadn’t exactly done anything in particular to acquire such a position from the mistress of the castle. Your mind buzzed with possibilities. Was she onto you? No. Of course she wasn’t, she couldn’t be, could she?

With shaky hands, you took a deep breath trying to further compose yourself. The portable tray in your hands suddenly feels like a ton of bricks.

The lady was expecting her afternoon tea and isn’t too keen on waiting. Her patience grew weary by the moment.

Slowly you brought your right hand and gently knocked on the brooding wood that distinguishes right from wrong, safe and dangerous.

A muffled “Come in,” filled the unorthodox silence. Leisurely you opened the door, making sure to keep your eyes lowered as you approached the ornate vanity, and set down the tray.

Lady Dimitrescu’s predatory gaze burned holes as she watched you intently. Seemingly lost in her trance, she doesn’t realize when you’re standing right in front of her, tea cup in hand.

“Lady Dimitrescu?” you said questioningly, curious where her mind might be.

“Yes, sorry, dear. Thank you.” She replies quickly, taking the seemingly hand painted tea cup. A faint metallic smell infiltrated the small space between you. It was no secret what the lady of the castle preferred in her afternoon tea. Regardless, a shiver ran down your spine at the mere thought of who that could be.

“Is that all my lady?” You asked as you made your way back to the vanity to retrieve the silver tray.

“Actually, there is something I wanted to discuss with you.” She said slowly. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

As if you even have a choice in the matter. Alcina Dimitrescu, always playing with her food. Utterly ridiculous.

“Something makes me think it’s not really up for debate, is it?” You ask knowingly, growing a bit bold.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She responds teasingly, while smirking. Vague as ever.

Even though she’s a ruthless vile woman, whos committed several dozen atrocities, you have to admit, she’s painfully attractive

Beauty and confidence radiate off her, making her all the more alluring. The air around her is absolutely intoxicating. You know it’s wrong, but you just can’t help yourself.

Tirelessly, you try to derail your mind that convinces you, you need more, that you need her..

Each and every humaneless act she’s committed plays before your eyes, yet the image of a broken woman stuck in her own mortality alway wins.

“Well, I hope I can acquire whatever you desire to know.” You reply plainly.

She eyes you almost cautiously. Observing you shamelessly. Her heated gaze makes you all too aware of the situation you’re in. The danger, the unknown, the claws of a monster.

Red paints your vision. For a moment, you feel you might just lose consciousness. A terrible feeling churning in your gut. This could go one of two ways. Either you talk and she miraculously lets you go or you talk and she uses your blood as wall decorum. One option seeming more likely than the other.

“Oh don’t play coy with me, darling. I have a brain, you know.” She says suddenly breaking the silence. “I must admit though, you do have a good facade. Dare I even say, you almost fooled me.”

Option two then.

Your heart beated rapidly at the confrontation. A dull ringing sounded in your ears. This is as close to death as you ever want to get. If you make it out alive, Chris will never hear the end of this.

You opened your mouth to speak, but just as fast as it opened, it shut. You were genuinely at a loss of words. She’s a clever woman, sure, but how did she know? Or even better, how long has she known? And if awhile, why hasn’t she sent you to the cellar?

Your impending doom hung above your head as your mind scrambled to find any sort of excuse, or anything really to get yourself out of this situation, with all your limbs intact.

“Don’t go all shy now, pet.” Lady Dimitrescu says as she leans closer, filling the gap between the two of you.

Pet? Your brain nearly short circuited at the nickname. “I.. I..” You mumbled lamley, still trying to formulate a coherent sentence. Unfortunately, there really wasn’t anything you could say or do to protect yourself. All you could do now was draw your inevitable death out for as long as you can.

“You know, I considered killing you when I found out. Or maybe sending you to the cellar to be my daughter's newest plaything.” Lady Dimitrescu says lowly. “But..” she drags out slowly, anticipation and fear consuming you as you waited for what she would say next.

“But?..” You repeated slowly, wondering what else she could possibly say.

You subconsciously leaned forward slightly, hanging on each and every word that spilled from her crimson lips. Exactly as she wanted. Eagerness coursed through your body like electricity.

“But, I thought something better. After all, it would be a shame to dispose of such beauty.” She finally responded, once again leaving suspense in the air.

Like a pole nailed to the ground, you were so impossibly still; you even forgot to blink. What exactly did she mean by that, you thought to yourself.

Lady Dimtrescu throws her head back in laughter at the apparent confusion painted along your face.

“Come here, now.” She demanded, no longer laughing as she was momentarily.

Quickly, deciding to keep your head as long as you could, you were standing in front of Lady Dimitrescu in seconds.

“Good.” She praised with a fond smile, and by the Gods, was she a sight to see.

“Now then, I’m going to tell you exactly how this is going to go. Do you understand me?” She asked authoritatively, leaving no room for retort.

While maintaining eye contact, you haphazardly nodded your head in understanding.

“Oh no, sweetheart. You’re going to have to do much better than that. Use your words like the big girl you are.” She responded.

Nervously, you swallowed the lump residing in your throat, “Y-yes, Lady Dimitrescu.” you whispered.

“Good girl.” She praised in return.

Her affirmation made your head fuzzy and core ache with want. There was absolutely no way this was happening right now. Whatever happened to her being the enemy?

Smirking, she grabbed the side of your face and ran her pale, slender finger down the expanse of your jaw, hooking two fingers under your chin and forcing your eyes to meet.

Your skin felt hot. Feverishly so, almost like you were lit on fire. Her burning gaze keeps you trapped in a fevernet daze. There’s no going back now, not even if you really wanted to.

“How about we play a little game?” She asked slyly.

A game? What kind of game? One wear she ruthlessly tears my head off? Or maybe chases me around the castle for sport? I’m not sure I'd like to play any ‘game’ with her, you thought to yourself.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked cautiously, but curiously.

For a moment, she was silent. Her eyes tracing your figure up and down. It was hard to read her, she had an impressive poker face, but as the lady of the castle you didn’t expect anything less. Alcina was a force of nature, which was what made her so incredibly dangerous.

A beat.

The palpable silence was consuming.

Then suddenly Lady Dimitrescu raised her hand and firmly patted her curvy thigh, “Sit.” she said indifferently.

Strangely, you’re more scared of sitting on her thigh than her slicing you into millions of bits and pieces. There was absolutely no way you were about to sit on Alcina Dimitrescu’s thigh.

Wide eyed, you stared at Lady Dimitrescu astounded. You almost couldn’t believe what was happening, no, you couldn’t believe it. Surly, this is some sick and twisted dream your mind conjured to torture you. You weren’t exactly into her, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least morbidly curious about her.

“I don’t like repeating myself, dear.” She said mockingly, your distress clearly fueling her. She wasn’t quite sure yet, but something reeled her in. She was almost certain had you been anyone else you’d be long gone by now. But this was different, you were different.

Slowly but surely you made your way to the large pristine chair, and hoisted yourself onto the expanse of her leg. Embarrassed, you faced away from her and diverted your gaze to the floor.

Expertly, Lady Dimitrescu wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you flush against her front. Heat burns your cheeks at the quick action.

“Much better.” She purred in your ear as she slowly licked the shell.

Heat went straight to your core as you tried to close your thighs. You couldn’t help but squirm at the feeling of her hot breath down your neck.

Her hand drew lazy patterns on your leg as she slowly bought her hand up to where you desperately wanted her.

“Do you want it?’ She asked in a hushed voice as if she didn’t already know the answer.

Yes. Of course you wanted it, even if it was against your better judgment. Figuratively and literally, you undeniably fucked. There was no way in hell you’d be able to tell Chris about this. You’d most likely lose your job and any shred of dignity you have after this.

A groan slipped past your lips, “yes.”

“Yes what? What do you want?” She replied teasingly. She wanted to poke and prod till you burst. She knew exactly what buttons to push to evoke a reaction.

Your brain fogged with indescribable want. The neurons in your brain failing to cooperate and make any logical response.

“You.” you said needily, almost like a whine. Oh how pathetic you looked. She hadn’t even done anything and you were already ever so desperate for her. She loved it, craved it even.

So submissive, so compliant.

“What do you want me to do, darling?” She asked in response. Of course she knew, but how amusing would it be to make you voice it to her?

“Anything, just do anything, please.” You begged while clenching your thighs once again. You were sure your core was absolutely dripping by now.

“Begging are we?” She asked rhetorically. You could practically hear her shit eating smile.

How she loved it when you begged. The sound was addicting to put it plainly. She could definitely get used to hearing it.

Finally, she brought her hand all the way up your thigh to your aching center. Her slender finger rubbing your folds through the fabric of your underwear.

You gasped at the sudden contact as you pushed yourself closer to her.

“Oh my, you’re absolutely drenched.” She teased. “Is this all for me?” She asked breathily in your ear, just as before,

All you could do was nod in response., your mind too taken with the way her fingers felt against you.

Seemingly tired of the foreplay, Lady Dimitrescu pushed the side of your black lacy thong to the side, exposing your glistening core. A chill ran down your spine at the sudden change in temperature.

“Absolutely beautiful, darling.” She praised as she ran her middle finger through your folds. A low moan erupted from your chest at the notion.

“More, I need more..” You begged, feeling yourself grow impatient.

A smirk plastered on her face as Lady Dimitrescu had a borderline evil idea. “As you wish.” She replied as she quickly plunged two fingers into your soaping core.

You threw your head back onto her shoulder at the rough treatment moaning loudly. Her pace was bruising, but the stretch was undeniably delicious. There was something so attractive about Lady Dimitrescu man handling you.

As she continued,your moans were near pornographic. You were sure anyone in the castle knew what the lady was up to. Not that you care all that much, but it’s still a bit embarrassing.

Your hips jerked up into her hand as she used her palm to apply more pressure on your swollen clit. You felt euphoric. There was nothing in the world you could compare to the way Lady Dimitrescu was making you feel. Even if she did kill you when she was finished, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” She asked while prepping kisses down your neck.

You moaned in response, not being able to form a coherent response.

“Good girl.” She uttered whilst kissing your cheek. “You’re doing so good for me, darling.” She encouraged.

“Come undone for me, show me how much of a needy whore you are for me.” She said as she curled her fingers into your sweet spot.

As if her plethora of praise wasn’t enough, she was so precise, so experienced with her fingers.

With one final thrust, you came all over her fingers. Your juices running down her hand, and ruining your underwear.

She finished with a few slow thrusts while you rode out your high. Once your breath evened out, she skillfully removed her fingers from your core.

“You did wonderfully.” She praised once again while placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

This Lady Dimitrescu was foreign. Incomprehensible even. And yet, for some reason, you adored her this way. Soft spoken and light, she almost seemed human, almost.

What’s to come after this is completely beyond you, all you can do is pray it’ll all come full circle.

[henry7931]

Head Swap/NBM Shorts

My Head Can Be The Ball

“Bro! If we need a ball, I got us!,” says Brad with his detached head laying on his lap.

“Dudddeeeee!!!! That’s so funny! Your heads perfect!,” says his friend Kaleb.

The boys grab Brad’s head and carry it outside to head to the practice field with them.

Meanwhile, Kaleb’s brother Jared comes downstairs and shocked to see Brad’s headless body just hanging out.

Now Jared has always found his brother’s jock friends to be hot! And when he peaked out of the window and saw them carrying off a head in a helmet into Kaleb’s truck… Jared felt excitement knowing it was just him and Brad’s sexy body left behind.

So he grabbed brads and pulled him up out of the chair and said, “you’re coming with me.”

Jared laid Brad’s body back in bed and stripped him down. He picked up Brad’s smell jock foot and placed in his face. He runs his hands up brads thighs until he was met with his cock and balls. He starts licking and kissing the semi hard dick. He played with his junk until he knew that brads body was close. Only to stop right before he comes edging Brad’s now very horny body…

Jared thought to himself, ‘God they could be hours before they get back… this maybe the best day of my life.’

Meanwhile the game started and Brad could feel what Jared was doing to his body… At first he thought about saying something to Kaleb but damn Jared soft lips feel way to good!

So Brad got to enjoy being thrown around while also getting a BJ. Talk about some good head!

My Body’s in Jail?

Tommy:

Shit! This was supposed to be something goofy and fun my brothers bet me to do!

That thought it would be funny if I ran around the stadium naked with this stupid sign! So I thought it would decrease the chances of my identity being caught if I did it headless just in case a camera can see me.

But what I wasn’t prepared for was my body being arrested!!!

I don’t even know what to do now… I mean one of my bros could take me to jail and I can turn myself in but known of them want to get in trouble!

And the crazy part is… I can somebody toying with my cock! Is my body in a cell with someone? Is an officer playing with my goods?!?! FUCk!!!!

Just Through Vacay

Justin:

Wow this is such a weird trip, I’m not sure why my brother Daniel and I agreed to doing a three way head swap with our dad but I’m kinda loving it!

I’m the youngest and now I have Daniel’s body. Daniel has muscles, he’s taller than me, and his junk is wayyyy bigger than mine. While Daniel has our dad’s body and dad has mine. I think I lucked out the most. I mean dad’s body might have been cool but I’ll take Daniel’s abs over dad’s beer gut any day!

And the crazy part is a bunch of guys have started to take notice of me. Do you think it would be bad if I hooked up with Danny’s body? I mean I’ve jerked off enough this week with it.

And he’s been at the tiki bar every night so he might not notice if I’m gone.

What The F*ck Robby???

Justin:

You know, I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to tell my friend Robby that my body builder uncle’s headless body is at my house right now while his head is out of town. Robby is staying the night with me while I’m watching my uncle’s place and told him to not go into his room.

But then u went to go take a shower and I come back to the guest room I’m staying in, still wrapped in my towl. As I swung open the door, I find Robby— laying in bed with his head attached to my uncle’s body.

“Sorry Justin! But I just couldn’t resist!”

“Dude!! I told you my uncles body is off limits!!”

“But he’s so freaking hot!!! Look These muscles! His dick… ITS HUGEEE!!”

“Robby! Take his body off right now! Side where I even is your body?”

He gestures to the corner of the room and I see his headless body just standing completely naked.

“Holy shit! Your body… it’s naked and you have a boner…” my eyes can’t look away at Robby’s junk.

“I know, I told it to go stand in the corner so I can get a background show while I play with your uncles junk but you’re trying to ruin my fun!”

You know, I’ve always wanted to fool around with Robby. Especially right now seeing his headless bod all exposed… fuck!

“You know what, I’ll make a deal with you. You keep my uncles body for the weekend and your body is mine to enjoy this weekend. Sound fair?”

“Fuck yeah! I always knew you had the hots for me Justin. Too bad I’m in to big muscle daddy’s and not cute twinks. But you can do whatever you want with it. I’ll be here having my fun!”

“Bet!”

I grab Robby’s headless bodies hand. “Follow me sexy,” I say to him.

“Can you bring it back in a couple of hours, I wanna feel your uncles dick inside of my hole.”

“Sure but be prepared to be swore because I’m wilding out with it.”

“Ugh fine!”

[robin-evry]

what if!!! hear me out 🙏🙏 yuu was a robot/miku inspired…IT SUCKS but like…miku kinda..yuu mikyuu…😓😓

Sure no worries, no judgement from me, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓 🤖👾🎤

A robot is a machine—especially one programmable by a computer—capable of carrying out a complex series of actions automatically. A robot can be guided by an external control device, or the control may be embedded within. But they can act independently if their creators allow it.

( English is not my first language )

Day 3 : robot!yuu

In a world full of technology and robots. Robot!yuu was the number one idol during that time and was in the number one group of the century ; vocaloid, imagine during the middle of a performance one of their solo concerts, a black carriage arrived and they suddenly shut down.

They turned on when it was an orientation ceremony. Since robot!yuu isn't technically an organic being, they would be put between the ignihyde dorm or ramshackle.

After Crowley gave them a cellphone or asked idia if he could do maintenance to connect them to social media of twisted wonderland, by doing this they started to upload their albums towards the internet and it blew up, people are loving it, it's getting headlines about a new genre of music, and the music getting about stream by millions around the world, Robot!yuu created a genre of music. A revaluation towards the music Industry.

This managed robot!yuu to get rich overnight and allowed them to buy more expensive and to fix the ramshackle dorm more to get more expensive technology for their maintenance, Robot!yuu was planning on giving half of the money to Crowley as a thanks but he only received 1/4 half of the money.

Even tho robot! yuu is an idol, their master builds them with an offensive and defensive system, they have extremely tough metal that is hard to find as well an offensive mode, they have a lot on their arsenal attacks, energy beams, rocket launchers, shield mode, and more.

They are also able to connect to any device and hack it without any issue, they manage to hack ignihyde technology without an issue. And they are waterproof

Robot!yuu also can digest and drink things without an issue, they have a special component on their stomach to make sure they can digest things normally.

During VDC they dominated the competition. Lasers, mist appears and light sticks wave around for their presence. They change outfits depending on the song, it was literally a Miku concert.

Congratulations neige Leblanc is now one of their fans, when going down the stage, he literally ran towards you and started asking a billion of questions with stars amongst their eyes

Vil was a little sour but also amazed about robot!yuu performance, he would ask them for choreography and music ideas from them as well as fashion opinions. He originally wanted robot!yuu to transfer into ignihyde but they refused due to ignihyde has the complete equipment for them or ramshackle.

Pomifiore dorm started to take notes and tried robot!yuu fashion styles. Idia is also a supporter of them and basically a super fan, robot!yuu would come to ignihyde to help him with games or help him maintain ortho, Robot!yuu is basically a sister towards Idia and Ortho.

sorry if it's short, this is by far I could come up anon

[locomoqo]

first time for everything

— taehoon seong x reader

details: NSFW under the cut, fem bodied reader, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v, protected, its reader's first time!

A/N: WAHHH HI TO THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS (I lost ur rq while editing im so sorry TT) i hope i did ur request right!!! kinda went overboard with this (wc 2.1k lolol) also one down on my list yippee!!

Taehoon isn't known for being expressive. Stoic and cold, he's got the looks and the body, but ask any girl he’s dated before, and they'll tell you he was distant, maybe even an ass. But ever since meeting Hobin and the rest of the group, he’s started to change, little by little. He still keeps up that tough exterior around others, but when he's with you? That facade crumbles, piece by piece, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He still remembers the first time he met you, and to be honest, he didn’t care much for you back then. But over time, he began searching for your presence in every room he walked into, his hands instinctively seeking yours whenever you were near.

He’s realized something important: he could exist without you, sure, but living without you? That’s something entirely different.

So, he’s been trying—trying to be romantic, to show his affection, just like tonight. It was supposed to be a perfect evening. You and Taehoon had planned a simple night out: dinner, followed by a quiet stroll through the city. The weather was fine when you left, the sky clear, and neither of you bothered checking the forecast.

But, of course, halfway through your walk, the sky darkened ominously. The first raindrop hit Taehoon’s cheek, and before you could even register what was happening, it was pouring. The kind of downpour where even an umbrella wouldn’t have been much help—not that you had one.

His hand found yours as the rain came down in sheets, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes almost immediately. “C’mon, we’ve got to find shelter.” he said as he put his jacket over your head. You both broke into a sprint, your shoes sloshing in the growing puddles, water splattering up your legs as you ran.

After a few minutes of dashing through the rain-soaked streets, you found temporary cover beneath the awning of a small convenience store. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, flickering occasionally as if protesting the weather.

“I don’t think it’s stopping anytime soon,” Taehoon muttered, pulling out his phone from his pocket to check the weather. It was almost as if he had been cursed today because, to his surprise, his phone was dead. You shivered, your wet clothes clinging to your skin like a second, uncomfortable layer.

“So… now what?” you ask, trying to sound optimistic, but even you could hear the weariness in your voice. He scanned the street, brows furrowed. Most places were either closed or looked far too expensive for a short stay. But then his gaze caught something in the distance—a neon pink sign glowing faintly through the mist of rain.

A love hotel.

His gaze drifts over to you, observing your tired and freezing state. His gaze drifts back to the hotel, it’s embarrassing, but you’re both soaked, cold, and honestly exhausted. “...I have an idea.” He hesitantly suggests the idea of staying at the love hotel for the night. You followed his gaze, spotting the hotel’s unmistakable pink glow.

A sigh escaped your lips, half-amused and half-resigned. It wasn’t the kind of place you’d ever imagined staying in, especially not under these circumstances, but you were soaked to the bone, and the idea of a warm, dry room was becoming more appealing by the second.

“Sure I guess we don’t have much of a choice,” you say with a nod, your voice tinged with humor despite the absurdity of it all. With a shrug and a mutual understanding, the two of you dash through the rain once more, making your way towards the hotel entrance.

The lobby was clean but unmistakably catered to a certain type of clientele. Soft, suggestive lighting bathed the room in a warm glow. The hotel clerk barely looked up as you approached, not fazed in the slightest by the soggy couple in front of her. Clearly, she’d seen it all before.

You can’t help but laugh a little at the situation as she handed the keycard to him. “Never thought our first stay at a love hotel would be like this,” you joke, nudging Taehoon with your shoulder. He only grumbles and nudges you back, pocketing the keycard before walking off to go to your room.

“Well… this is cozy,” you said with a small laugh, trying to break the tension. You grabbed one of the complimentary robes from the closet, grateful for something dry to wear. Taehoon did the same, tossing his soaking wet jacket over the back of a chair.

The robe was soft against your skin, warming you almost instantly. You both slipped into the large bed, the thick blankets swallowing you up in their warmth. Despite the slightly awkward circumstances, the room itself was comfortable, and you found yourself relaxing into the plush pillows. The rain outside continued its relentless rhythm, drumming softly against the windows. It was oddly soothing now that you were out of it, tucked away in a cozy room with nothing to do but rest (or at least that’s what you thought).

Taehoon watched you for a moment before he reached out, his hand finding yours under the blankets. He didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a gentle squeeze. The sudden contact has you turning your head to him, “What?” You ask with a small smile, squeezing his hand back. “Nothing.” He says, “You just look pretty in this lighting.” He tucks your hair behind your ear. You giggle at his words, “Is this really the Taehoon Seong I know?” You joke, shuffling under the sheets to get closer to him. 

The space between you narrows, your eyes flickering briefly to his lips. That subtle movement prompts his hand to slide to the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. It was meant to be soft, sweet—just a gentle press of lips. But when his leg accidentally grazes against your core, drawing a soft moan from you, he instinctively rolls you onto your back, hovering over you. The kiss deepens, becoming more intense than either of you intended.

He nudges his knee against your heat again, and the needy whine that escapes your lips spurs him on. Your hand guides him to your breast, slipping it beneath the fabric of your robe. His thumb circles the sensitive peak, the kiss growing even deeper, as if testing the limits. Your hands tremble slightly before finding their place on his chest, pressing gently against the warmth of his skin. The lingering kiss stirs something between you, a tension that had been building all night.

You’ve been here before—kissing, touching, letting your hands roam—but tonight feels different. There's an urgency in the way he touches you, a hunger that hasn't surfaced before. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a heated path in their wake. The soft sigh that escapes your mouth only encourages him further, as your body arches into his touch.

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice thick with desire but still filled with care.

You nod, breath catching in your throat as his hand slides your robe open, his thumb grazing the underside of your breast. Meeting his gaze, you see the mix of tenderness and longing in his eyes, and it sends your heart racing.

“Taehoon…” you whisper, and he hums in response. “You know how we’ve never actually...done it before?” you ask, your voice hesitant. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “What if we changed that? Tonight?”

His brow furrows slightly, processing your words. “Are you...sure?”

“Yes.” You nod, your hands tracing the lines of his arms, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers. With that, the atmosphere shifts. The kiss becomes hungrier, more insistent, your bodies pressing together as the heat between you both rises. His hands explore your body with newfound confidence, pulling you closer until there’s hardly any space left between you. Anticipation builds, making your pulse race.

A mix of excitement and nervousness washes over you, but it’s overpowered by how much you want this. How much you want him.

Taehoon pulls back for a moment, his hands cradling your face with such gentleness, grounding you amidst the growing intensity. He looks at you like you’re his entire world.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. When you nod again, he stares at you for a moment longer, feeling his restraint slowly breaking.

“We’ll take it slow,” he promises, his voice soft but heavy with desire.

His hand ventures lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear, his long, slender fingers sliding effortlessly against the slickness of your arousal. You bite your lip as he smiles, murmuring, “Already so wet.” He glances at you briefly, then back down at the glistening wetness between your thighs.

Throwing the covers over his head, he adjusts himself on the bed, moving closer to your core. A shiver runs through you as he pulls your underwear down, and a sharp gasp escapes when his tongue traces a slow line between your folds. Instinctively, you want to close your legs, but he holds them apart, his grip firm.

The way he devours you is intoxicating, and you can feel the walls of your cunt clenching around nothing as he thrusts his tongue deeper inside. He knows exactly how it's affecting you—the sounds spilling from your lips make him grind against the bed, chasing some of his own relief.

“T–Taehoon-!” you moan, and that's when he decides to bring his fingers into play. He thrusts them inside you with deliberate, powerful movements, causing your thighs to tremble and your moans to come faster. He hums against your core, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through you. The knot in your stomach tightens with every precise curl of his fingers and the attention his tongue gives your clit.

It's clear this isn’t his first time. You know it’s not. But it’s the first time he’s doing this with genuine intent to please, rather than just seeking a quick release. As you come undone beneath him, he withdraws his fingers slowly, savoring the taste of you. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before leaning up and pressing his lips to yours again. Your hands fumble with his shirt while he works to remove his pants. He breaks the kiss, his gaze shifting to the bedside table.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, confused by the sudden pause. He opens the drawer, pulling out a condom.

“Protection,” he says simply, tearing the packet open with his teeth. You giggle, “You should do that more often.”

“Are you implying we’re going to be doing this more often?” he asks with a smirk, positioning himself at your entrance.

“Well, that depends,” you tease, a playful smile on your lips, “on whether or not you do our first time justice.” Taehoon rolls his eyes but there’s a touch of seriousness in the air. “Just tell me if something doesn’t feel right, okay?” he quietly says, searching your eyes for any hesitation. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for what’s to come.

Slowly, he eases himself inch by inch into you. You gasp, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you adjust to his size. He stays still, giving you time to get used to the feeling. “You alright?” he groans, pressing gentle kisses to your face, wiping away your tears. His hand finds yours, fingers interlocking. “M–Mhm,” you manage, squeezing his hand as you exhale shakily. He begins to move, dragging his length out slowly before thrusting back in, drawing a sharp moan from your lips.

“Fuck…” you breathe out, your body trembling as he finds a steady rhythm. He starts slow, not wanting to overwhelm you, but soon his pace quickens. Your soft walls grip him with each stroke, and his breathing grows heavy as you pull at his hair, your nails leaving crescent marks on his skin. The sound of your moans drives him wild, his own deep groans mingling with yours.

“You feel so good, too good,” he grunts, burying his face in your neck, biting and kissing as he continues to move. Your moans fill the room, echoing off the walls as sweat beads on your skin, your head lolling to the side.

“I’m gonna–I’m gonna cum–!” you pant, legs tightening around his waist as you approach your peak. Taehoon’s thrusts become more urgent, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice strained with desire.

You let out a loud moan, your body shuddering as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. Taehoon follows soon after, his movements slowing as he cums into the condom, his body finally coming to rest.

“So,” he starts, lifting his head from your neck with a smug grin, “did I do our first time some justice?”

[cre8inghavoc]

Can't help it...

Part 9

inumaki x f!reader

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

summary: Transferring to a new school is tough, but having your three best friends there makes it easier. Things get even more interesting when you start falling for the mysterious boy who rides his motorcycle to school every day. What will happen next?

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

Inumaki's POV:

I’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours now, and I don’t understand why I can’t sleep. I mean, I’ve always had issues with sleeping—insomnia’s been my constant companion for as long as I can remember—but I thought it was getting better. This past week, for the first time in years, I actually slept well. It was odd, sure, but I wasn’t complaining.

But tonight? Tonight, it’s back to the old ways.

Back to no sleep.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I glanced over at the clock.

4 a.m.

Great.

Should I even bother going to school later? Maybe I should just skip. But then… I wouldn’t see y/n.

Fuck.

The thought of not seeing her tomorrow... or today, technically... made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to think too much about. I let out another frustrated sigh and turned my head to look at my phone on the nightstand. For a moment, I just stared at it, my mind running through all the reasons why texting her at this hour would be a terrible idea.

She’s probably asleep. You’ll wake her up. She’ll think you’re being annoying. Just leave her alone.

But then again… what if she’s awake too? What if she’s thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her right now?

Before I could overthink it anymore, I grabbed my phone, my thumb hesitating over the keyboard. I typed out a message and stared at it for a second, debating whether or not to hit send.

This is stupid. She’s not awake. You’ll look like an idiot.

But my thumb pressed send before I could talk myself out of it.

Hey… you up?

I tossed my phone on the bed beside me and ran a hand over my face, already regretting it. But now all I could do was wait.

Honestly, I was kind of hoping she would respond. It’s not like I can sleep, so maybe talking to her would help. But at the same time… I kind of hope she doesn’t even see my message. Because… what if I’m being too much?

What if she sees it, rolls her eyes, and thinks I’m just some guy who can’t get a grip? Someone who’s bothering her at 4 a.m. for no reason?

I sighed, staring at the faint glow of my phone screen as it sat on the bed next to me. What was I expecting? That she’d magically be awake, texting back right away? And if she did… what would I even say?

Hey, I can’t stop thinking about you?

Yeah, right. That would go over well.

I shook my head, feeling the frustration bubble up in my chest. Why was she in my head so much? Why couldn’t I just… let it go? Ignore it? Pretend I wasn’t thinking about the way she looked at me earlier, or the way her voice shook just a little when she was mad?

I groaned softly, rolling over onto my side and staring at the phone again. One minute passed. Then another. The screen stayed dark, and the silence stretched on. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe it was better if she didn’t answer.

Because if she did… I wasn’t sure what I’d say next. Or worse, what I’d admit.

But then, to my surprise, my phone buzzed.

I blinked, staring at it for a moment as if I’d imagined the notification. The screen lit up, her name glowing back at me. My heart skipped a beat, and I hesitated before picking it up, as if seeing her response would somehow make this real.

WARNING: SMUT (18+ ONLY) & HEAVY FLIRTING/TEASING

A/N

things are getting veryyy spicy now 👀

hope you enjoyed this little tease

im so sorry this took so look... it was very unexpected ive just been extremely busy and honestly haven't had the energy to write much

yes this is very short butttt i kinda just want some of yalls opinion on this... like would you actually wanna read the smut (next part)

ik its late ASF BUT ENJOY IT PLEASE OR ELSE ILL CRY FR

TAG LIST <3

@madaqueue @mikko-mikko @arabella0001 @swarachxle @s3ns4ti0n4l @jdgfsgdgdvf @tomikixd @arabella0001 @emotionalasf @unofficialsapphire @miowxh @hansl0ver @miowxh

[number1jeonginstan]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a story in which hyunjin overstimulates y/n? And if you want, could you make y/n sensible and scared? Ty! I love your writing btw!

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to get this out, I’ve been kind of in a slump for writing and then I got the idea for what I should do because I was kinda struggling for a minute. I hope you liked it and I’m so thankful for the request! Thank you so much for your time and patience, I really appreciate it.

WC: 1.25k

Pairing: Hyunjin x (established relationship) afab!reader

Minors don't interact, 18+

Warnings: SMUT, overstimulation, some light slapping, good girl, baby, use of that stuff, idk what else tbh this was written at like 1 am

It was a lazy day between you and Hyunjin. Both still in your pajamas, you in silk shorts and one of his t-shirts, and him in his matching yellow and white checkered pajamas. You enjoyed this new mystery novel on his bed while he painted in his studio. It was the comfort of being next to one another that you had no idea what was yet to come. 

As you turned to the next page in your book, Hyunjin got up coming towards you. “Wanna have sex?” He asked, lying down next to you on the bed. You barely paid attention to him, too immersed in your book, simply humming. 

“Come on” he groaned lifting his head to you, “I need you baby” he huffed, still not eliciting a reaction from you. To try and get any reaction out of you, he began to run his fingers on your thighs. 

Ts when he ran his fingers along your thighs, placing wet kisses along your smooth thigh. “Jinnie, please” you whined “I want to finish this chapter, they are about to say who did it” 

“Wow, a book is more interesting than fucking your insanely hot boyfriend?” 

“Right now, yes!” you giggled, finishing reading the page you were on. Before you could even turn the page, he snatched the book out of your hand. “Don’t you dare fold the corner” you yelled, trying to snatch the book back. He giggled adding the bookmark he made you as a gift to mark the page. He got up and placed the book on his easel, far from your reach. 

“Fine” you groaned, falling back onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow. He walked back to the bed, crawling on top of you so his thighs locked yours in place. He placed a kiss on your lips, causing a giggle to leave your lips.

He moved to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the spot that drove you crazy. You could slowly feel yourself getting wetter. “Jinnie, please stop teasing” you whined, rubbing your thighs together to get any sort of stimulation. “I need you” 

“Be patient baby, we have all the time in the world”

He kissed your lips once again, trying to savor your taste. He began to move down your body, lifting your (his) shirt slightly to kiss your stomach, slowly moving down to your shorts. Without hesitation, he pulled down your shorts and underwear, throwing them somewhere in your shared room. 

“Fuck baby, this pussy is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” he ran his fingers across your folds, capturing your wetness and putting his finger in his mouth, licking it off his fingers. “And you taste even better” 

You moaned watching him, and before you could even say anything, he dove into your pussy. His plush lips kissed your clit as he slowly inserted one of his long fingers into your hole. You grabbed his hair in his hand, forcing him to eat you like a man starved, and he was happy to. 

He was licking every inch of your pussy, slowly inserting another finger to give you the extra stimulation you needed. His fingers were long, not as long as his cock, but longer than your own and he was skilled with them. It took him another minute for you to cum around his fingers, moaning his name as your walls clenched around them. 

He began to kiss down your thigh, his plush lips covered in your cum from eating you out. “Jinnie, please, need you” you whined.

“You are a greedy little girl aren’t you, just made you cum with my mouth and fingers, but you are still begging for my cock” 

He slapped your thigh lightly, moving so he was on top of you, in between your legs. “Fuck, you are such a slut” he groaned, pulling his already hard cock from the confines of his boxers. The tip was already red, pre-cum slowly dripping out of the tip.

“Who’s the slut now?” you giggled, trying to joke around, but it only made Hyunjin to tease you more. Before you could react, he grabbed your face, making you look directly into his eyes. “If you keep acting like this, I’m going to fuck you like the little whore you are” 

“Sure Hyunjin, you can try and do that” You rolled your eyes, knowing that your boyfriend would never “fuck” you. Whenever the two of you had sex, he always liked to describe it as making love. He was someone who believed that sex was something that should be cherished. 

“Don’t test me baby, tonight you are going to be my cocksleeve” Before you could even react, he thrust his cock inside of you, not even giving you a warning. “How can you be such a whore and have such a tight pussy” 

You just moaned you had never seen him this way, and you were a bit scared, and your face reflected it. “Aww, baby don’t be scared, you’ll get to cum, don’t worry”

He nibbled on your ear softly, his pillow lips wrapping around your lobe as he continued to thrust into you. He slowly began to lift your legs slightly, signaling you to wrap your legs around his back, allowing him to hit that one spot inside your cunt.

“Such a good girl, moaning for my cock. Is it just that good?” 

He continued to thrust into you, not faltering his pace as he continued to abuse that one spot inside of you. All you could do was moan out in response. You were too fucked out, getting fucked too well to even understand the words coming out of his mouth. 

He slapped your face slightly, causing you to look up straight into his eyes. “I asked you a question, is my cock that good” 

“Yes Jinnie, your cock is the best I’ve ever had” you moaned out loud. He kissed your lips, muttering “good girl” on them, and with him thrusting into that one spot that made you whine, it was all you needed to cum. 

“Fuck baby, I can feel your walls clenching around me, but just because you came, doesn’t mean we are done” You whined, feeling overstimulated as he continued to abuse your pussy like there is no tomorrow. 

It all felt too much, him continuing to thrust into you even though you had just cum. You thrashed around slightly, not being able to take it. Just as you thought you were going to break, like the world around you was going to go black, he came inside of you, kissing your lips. 

You were still out of it as he quickly got up, getting a cloth to clean the cum that was spilling you out of with as well as a glass of water. “Baby, I need you to drink this” 

You just nodded, slowly drinking the glass of water that your boyfriend was holding in front of you. 

“Sorry if I was too rough, I just overheard you say that you wanted me to fuck you more often, I hope it was okay” 

He looked like a hurt puppy so you pulled him close to you, kissing his lips gently. “It was amazing Jinnie, but next time, give me some warning because I was scared shitless” 

He just giggled as he wrapped his arms around you as you both fell asleep together. Maybe not knowing the end of the book is worth it. 

[chrisgirly4l]

Fantasies

dom C.S x sub reader

summary- Chris finds out about your sexual fantasies with him in your journal.

Word count- 1033

a/n- This is my first fanfic I've ever written so I'm sorry if it isn't good I tried lol.

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

"y/n, for this project you will be partners with Christopher" your English teacher says with a smirk on her face, almost like she did this on purpose. Putting the quiet girl with the most popular guy in school.

Chris looks at you from across the classroom as his friends laugh and make fun of him for getting a "bad" partner.

After everyone gets assigned their person he walks over to you, pushing the nearest empty desk beside yours. You look down at your lap and fidget with your hands trying to avoid eye contact.

"hey, so I guess we're partners..." Chris says awkwardly. "yeah, I guess we are." you mutter quietly. The silence between you two lingers uncomfortably, though the rest of the class is conversing at full volume.

Chris finally decides to break the silence by saying "do you know what we're supposed to do, I wasn't really listening." You roll your eyes and reply sarcastically "clearly. All we have to do is make a slideshow about the book we read, you did read the book right?" He looks at you with a lopsided smile and sheepishly says "I was kinda hoping you did.." After exchanging numbers and summarizing the book for him class was over, finally.

If you didn't think so before it was now confirmed that this was going to be a shit show. A total complete shit show.

Later that night as you laid down to go to sleep, you couldn't help but think about Chris. The way he ran his fingers through his hair, his kind, genuine voice, and his blue eyes that almost seem to twinkle when he smiles. You start to overthink the situation, Do I have a crush on him? Does he have a crush on me? No, it isn't possible there's no way i'm falling for a guy I've only talked to once!

Since your thoughts were barring you from sleep, you decided to do what always helps you relax, journaling. Though it may seem like a stupid hobby, you've done it for as long as you can remember. It's never failed you and you know it won't fail you now.

You lay stomach down, pen in hand on your bed and begin to write, after what feels like a short period of time you check your phone and you've been writing for close to an hour! When you go to read back the many pages, you realize what was supposed to help convince you why having a crush on king of the cafeteria was not a good idea, was really just you spilling all of your most sexual fantasies you've imagined with him.

Walking into English the next day you pull out the same journal to write down all your homework you have to do tonight. Chris takes a seat next you, your shoulders brushing slightly, but the touch enough to make your heart skip a beat. While your distracted your journal falls off your desk, on the floor directly beside him, the pages flipping one back onto your entry from last night! You quickly reach to pick it up, but he already has is and has started scanning the page. "woah! who's this about, I guess your not so innocent after all." he says with a smirk clearly trying to tease you. "shut up Chris, just give it back!" but it's too late by the time you get your sentence out, he read his name at the bottom.

You stare at him anxiously waiting for his reaction, but instead he puts the notebook down and walks out of the classroom silently. You cover your face with your hands, utterly embarrassed when your phone dings, It's from Chris "Bathroom, now" You gawk at the screen, not even able to believe what your reading. Nevertheless you get up and walk to the bathroom.

Hesitantly, you push open the restroom door, and scan the room. You don't see him or anyone else, for that matter. You walk down the line of stalls till you're swiftly pulled into the handicap one at the end of the line. Without delay he immediately holds you against the wall, his knee in between your legs and his lips planted on yours.

You pause before relaxing into the kiss, your body pressed against his and your hands sliding into his hair. He slips his tongue into your mouth gently, gaining intensity gradually. Your body heats up as the realization hits you that your making out with the Christopher Sturniolo, one of the most sought after guys at school!

While deep in thought Chris whispers in a gravelly tone "Wanna make those fantasies come true?" Your face turns bright red as you slowly nod before his lips come down to your neck. He sucks and nips at the skin, leaving dark bruises, and causing you to whimper faintly. Steadily, he slides his hand under the waistband of your pants, leisurely rubbing circles over your clit with his thumb. You look into his eyes, your moans pleading for more. He quickens his motions and palms your ass, your whines only getting louder.

Suddenly, echos of the bathroom door swinging open spread across the whole room, startling both you and Chris, but instead of stopping the lustful act, he covers your mouth and slams two slender fingers into you. You gasp under his hand with suprise and pleasure, as he begins to finger you at a moderate pace. "You're such a slut, letting me finger you at school, now shut up and take it like I know you can." He whispers seductively, his lips moving back to yours, the kiss needier than the first, his hands accelerating pace inside you. Your muscles tighten around his fingers "I'm gonna-" You cut yourself off with your orgasm, pressing your face into his shoulder while squirming under his touch.

The bathroom door slams shut, as Chris pulls out and chuckles "You did so good for me baby." You blush at the praise and nickname. "...thank you?" You instantly feel embarrassed at your reply, but the feeling quickly subsides when Chris smiles at you and leads you out of the bathroom at the bell.

"Same time tomorrow?"

[stevesbipanic]

Eddie was scared.

The room was bright and the walls a pale blue, the AC was running combatting the summer heat. He was sat in the corner having been left in this room a few minutes ago.

"Hello! Do you want to colour with me?"

The young boy who'd been sitting at the short table by the couch had seemed to notice his presence. Eddie glared at him, he wanted to be left alone.

"Why are you angry? Do you not know how to colour?"

That was a stupid question, of course Eddie knew how to colour. Sometimes Mrs Martin across the street would watch him and she always had crayons for her grandkids.

"I know how to colour," he replied sternly not moving from his spot.

The other boy brightened at this however, "Then come colour with me! I'm not very good at staying between the lines but I'm getting better! Miss Sarah always has colours in here."

Miss Sarah had been the one to bring Eddie here, she'd told him to wait while she made a phone call. Begrudgingly, Eddie stood up and plopped down next to the boy.

"Do you come here often? You said you colour a lot?" Eddie asked picking up the big red crayon for his picture of a truck, it kinda looked like his dad's truck but that was blue. Eddie didn't want it to look like his dad's truck.

The other boy nodded, his mood seemed to dim at the question, "Yeah, I missed too many days of school this time so they called Miss Sarah. But it's not my fault the bus doesn't go by my house and it's too far to walk!"

"Doesn't your mom drive you?" This boy seemed like the kind to have a mom, his clothes didn't have any holes in them like Eddie's.

"When she's home, she's usually away with my dad though, but I'm glad when he's gone, he yells a lot."

Eddie nodded at the admission, his dad yelled a lot too.

"They took my dad away, and I don't have a mom anymore," Eddie said, his eyes began to itch.

The other boy put down his crayon and moved around the table wrapping his arms around Eddie, "It's ok, Miss Sarah will help you, I promise."

"Why hasn't she helped you?" Eddie asked, if Miss Sarah was so good why was this boy always here?

Before the boy could answer, Miss Sarah returned, "Eddie, sweetheart, your uncle is here, you'll be staying with him from now on ok?" Eddie hadn't seen his uncle in years but he could remember that his truck was a bright red colour.

"Really? Uncle Wayne is here!"

"Yep, he's already got your backpack so you can see him now."

Eddie got up quickly, he stopped at the doorway as Miss Sarah continued, "Steve, I'm sorry honey but your dad's lawyer got involved again, he's here to pick you up." Steve, at least Eddie knew his name now, nodded sadly like he'd expected this answer.

"That's ok Miss Sarah, you tried," she knelt down to him giving him a big hug, "Next time you call the number I gave you right away ok?"

"I'll try Miss Sarah, the phone isn't always on."

Miss Sarah led the boys out of the room to the waiting room. Eddie's uncle stood up immediately opening his arms which Eddie ran to.

"I'm sorry son, if I'd have known I'd have come got you years ago. Your daddy ain't hurting you no more." Eddie squeezed him tighter. As he and his uncle passed by Steve he gave him a smile and a wave.

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing this was Steven? We'll be having a long discussion about this when we get home." Steve looked like he needed that smile.

Years later, when they were grown Eddie would find a carefully folded piece of paper amongst the other knick knacks the kids had given Steve over the years. He unfolded it to find a bright red truck.

"You kept it?"

"Had to give myself hope she'd help me like she helped you, plus your dimples were adorable."

It may have taken awhile, but eventually both boys found themselves a happy home.

[crguang]

moonlit thoughts

You find that Kafka is most photogenic when she doesn’t try and is instead authentically going about her day without a care for the camera following her every movement.

established relationship, fluff, this is a lot of banter i suppose, gn!reader, g!p kafka but there’s no actual smut, very suggestive at the end though, 4.3k words

A/N: a new kafka fic from saturn after all these years… somebody please check up on them this might be a clone… in all seriousness, i wrote this bc i’m going through a rough patch writing wise and i’ve had this idea in my head for months that somehow brings me comfort so i tried to put it into words but kinda flopped. there was supposed to be smut at the end but i ran out of juice, i’m sorry </3

She takes up the right half of the frame; dressed in nothing but a white unbuttoned shirt twice her size and mini shorts to match, her backside faces the lens and is illuminated by streaks of silver from a moon you cannot see. Her tousled hair paints some of the scene amaranth against the midnight sky beyond. It’s a shame the glimmer of stars can’t be seen at this distance, it’d make for a prettier picture. Her lit cigarette is also hidden, though its fumes dance in the air ahead of her and visibly swirl above her head for only a few seconds after each soft exhalation of her lips. You adjust the frame. The clear patio door on the left, Kafka leaning on the hotel room balcony on the right. She lifts her head, blows the smoke in her mouth, and the shutter clicks. In the quiet undisturbed by the circulation twenty stories below, the sound is distinct and impossible to overlook. You take more pictures.

Kafka straightens up and slightly turns to face the adjacent bedroom, her cigarette held loosely between two fingers and the other arm resting on the railing. She brings it to her lips, smiles when the shutter clicks once more, then exhales through her nose. Her features are partially obscured by the smoke and her hair sways with the light breeze. You take another picture.

“See something you like?”

She asks you this often, whenever you stare too long or fish your camera from your bag to point it towards her. Her tone is teasing, her smile amused, but she particularly enjoys the honesty you reply with.

“Always.”

You sit up in the bed and fiddle with your camera to adjust some of the settings. Kafka pushes herself off the balcony and saunters to the bedroom, leaning on the doorframe. She watches you press buttons and rotate the lens to the left, then to the right, before lifting the camera back to her without a word. In between three shutter clicks, she runs her fingers through her locks to tame the stray hairs flying about. She doesn’t care how she looks through your lenses, she’s said so once back when you first asked for permission to capture her that way, so this is just Kafka. She takes another drag from her cigarette. Her bare chest falls with her next exhalation, not a goosebump in sight despite the cool air outside. The shirt covers her nipples and offers a peek into the gentle swell of her breasts. You zoom out to include the waistline of her shorts. After the tenth picture, she speaks up again.

“Can’t get enough, huh?”

You smile and press the shutter button. “Well, you know what they say— I’m making sure the sight lasts longer. Can one get enough of their muse? I don’t think it’s happened before.”

“Your muse?” Kafka chuckles at the comment and crosses her arms over her chest. “You almost make me sound like some kind of artwork you’re trying to capture.”

“Not quite. Just trying to recreate my reality.”

She hums low in response and shifts, her back against the doorframe, tilting her head towards where you sit cross legged on the thick comforter. The butt of her cigarette glows orange. Your shutter clicks.

“And what exactly are you recreating right now?”

“You, smoking after sex a little past midnight in a hotel room we’ll leave behind in the morning. Speaking of, blow your smoke the other way.”

“For the picture?”

“For my nose.”

Kafka lifts her eyes to the sky but the corner of her lips curves in a subtle smile. She relents and walks further onto the balcony. “Oh, fine, I’ll take my smoke elsewhere.”

She resumes her position against the railing to finish her cigarette in peace, no longer facing you. The minutes pass in quietude, you catch every shift of movement and straying lock of hair through the lens of your digital camera. You lie on your side and the device follows your line of sight. Since it serves as a substitute for your eye whenever it’s turned on, her frame now fills the screen in portrait mode. You don’t know what she’s thinking as she silently basks in this moment of calm, free of the things she likes most— excitement, movement, gunfire. A multitude of thoughts could be running through her mind, you still haven’t learned to read every part of it. What she keeps from you is often pictured by your camera anyway. She has a dozen kinds of smiles, all tucked away in a hard drive you keep hidden even from her; part of you is unsure of how she would react to the implications of your scrutiny and wishes to keep the semblance of authenticity she demonstrates once you find yourselves out of the crowd. Each unedited clip or photo represents your eyesight and is inherently intimate, something Kafka likes to pretend she doesn’t struggle with through confident smiles and half-truths.

Not hearing the soft clicking of your camera anymore, Kafka turns to glance into the room. You haven’t moved on the bed, the device hiding your eyes from hers.

“You still taking pictures in there?” She calls out, her voice carrying through the open door.

“No, I’m filming.”

She raises an eyebrow in mild intrigue. “What’s the film for? Making a documentary?”

“Maybe,” you answer noncommittally, “it won’t be the first I’ve made of you.”

You can see her rack her brain for memories of the last time you've shared a film you’ve edited with her as the main character and suppress a smile. While she’s seen some of your pictures, nowhere near the extensive collection you hoard, and even posed for impromptu shots before, she can’t recall witnessing any movie from you. Kafka snuffs out her cigarette on the railing and lets it free fall on the streets below. She doesn’t wait for it to hit the ground, instead padding into the room and making her way to the chair her favorite velvet coat is carefully draped over. You follow her steps with the camera.

“You’ve made a film about me before?” She asks curiously as she slips a hand into the front pocket and pulls out a green pack of chewing gum.

“Mhm. Are you surprised?”

Kafka pops a mint flavoured gum into her mouth. “More like curious.”

“It’s nothing grand. I just edited the numerous shots I’ve taken of you over the time.”

“That’s usually how you make a movie.” She’s unfazed by the deadpan look you send her way and climbs at the foot of the bed, sitting back on her knees. “How many shots are we talking about here?”

You finally lower your device to think. The last time you bothered to check the amount of content you have sitting in various files on your hard drive was a couple of months ago, and it went as high as twelve thousand. You can’t say for sure and you’re suddenly uncharacteristically embarrassed by the number.

“I don’t know,” you reply, “they’re all in my drive.”

“Mmm… Can I see the film?”

You pause. You don’t actually have anything to hide since she’s consented to all of these, it’s just that each shot is deeply personal despite them being of her. You feel they tell a story about yourself more than they do of her. They’re special in their own mundane way because they belong to you in every sense of the word, they embody your perception and thought process and everything you can only express through visual language. Kafka allows you a minute to ponder her request, her gaze flickering from the camera in your hands to your creased brow.

“…Really?” You’re still unsure, your thumb nervously tracing the device’s power button.

“Yes, really. I’m curious to know how you’ve perceived me through your lens so far. Sounds interesting.”

“I don’t know…”

She observes you for a moment and you can tell your hesitation feeds her desire to know more. Her index finger absently drums an unknown melody on her thigh.

“What’s holding you back?”

“I know you’re the subject, but these shots especially are… personal, I suppose.”

“Personal? I guess that’s to be expected,” she says, tone light. “I’m still interested in seeing them. I can handle seeing a few intimate shots of me.”

You sit up against the pillows and look down at your hands. The world is dark and quiet, and it’s just the two of you in this hotel room seemingly suspended in time. There’s nothing but open curiosity in the pink depths of her eyes bare of her beloved contact lenses; she sits in a dress shirt she stole earlier that day from a local clothing shop that isn’t standing anymore, the skin of her chest still slightly flushed with her previous arousal, and silvery highlights compliment her hair with a soft glow that contrast the shadows across her facial features. She’s chewing gum because you’re not a fan of tobacco, keeps a packet in her right front pocket that she no longer thinks twice about. She waits patiently for you to cave in, she knows you will eventually. You meet her gaze and a triumphant smile stretches her lips.

“Alright, but just one.”

Kafka crawls over and plucks a tissue from the box on the nightstand before she spits out her gum and bundles it up on the small desk. She settles near you with an arm propped against the pillows, brushing some strands of hair out of her face to see the screen better. You briefly leave the bed and rummage through your discarded bag for your laptop and encrypted hard drive before joining her side once more. She watches you power it up and type in your password. She’s a warm presence beside you, the familiar feeling calms your nerves somewhat. You take a couple of slow breaths as you retrieve a specific file— K in moonlight. You’ll be adding the pictures and clips you took just now to the same file when you get the time.

“It’s meant to look a bit old. I like how movies looked back then.”

She hums pensively but doesn’t add anything, her attention fixed on the video’s cover image: it’s unassuming enough, a simple picture of her relaxed brows and closed eyes while she dozes off, taken from the point of view of the one sleeping next to her.

You press play. The silent movie is short and made of decomposed footage of Kafka filmed in the various planets the Stellaron Hunters have fleetingly stayed on during their ongoing journey. Though the hours are never the same, the shots are all filmed at night. The editing is reminiscent of a visual diary, almost, where continuity doesn’t exist and every frame is filled by her in the moonlight; the moment when she’s just fallen asleep on silky sheets; in an empty, raining street walking ahead with an umbrella and a crimson moon above her head; footage of her coming closer to the camera, framed to emphasize her usual lazy strut, before it cuts to a chaste kiss captured through the standing mirror of your bedroom. The low lighting makes it so specific parts of her are visible through the lens. Her full face is rarely shown, just whenever she sports the same relaxed expression in her sleep. The Kafka next to you is captivated by the images progressing on screen, the one in the film is mostly unaware of the camera pointed at her— or pretends to be, used to your scrutiny.

As the movie continues, the tone shifts. The first seven minutes put a visual to words you haven’t uttered to each other yet, spinning mundanity into tenderness, or perhaps simply bringing forth the underlying affection that accompanies your routine. The next few ones attempt to convey sensations best felt through touch onto the screen. As is the theme throughout the video, the setting is dark, filmed in a pristine bedroom at night not unlike the one you’re currently in. Edited shots show pieces of Kafka's bare body with no barrier between her sensuous curves and the almost voyeuristic eye of the camera. Clips are cut and replayed to create discontinuity. You remember that night, she impulsively posed for you and gave you full access to her body, naturally, you jumped on the opportunity to record. The moment wasn’t planned so the footage is a little rough, as is the editing considering you’re not a cinematographer, just someone with a camera. Due to the inauthenticity of the subject, her eyes are hidden to frame her perfect smile instead. You’ve used the shadows of the room to your advantage, from Kafka’s on the wall to the ones created by your hand on her moonlit skin as it brushes her ribs, thigh, collarbone. There is movement all through the film, from the subject but also from the camera, who travels up the slope of her neck then abruptly cuts to the length of her spine and the thorny rose stem tattooed along its curve. The movie’s erotic and sensual undertone is an undeniable constant despite nothing explicit happening on screen.

You glance to the side. Kafka’s stare follows the movement of shadows on her own skin and the brief, tantalizing glimpses of her naked body. There’s an element of anticipation that sustains the viewer’s attention, leaving them hoping to see a pink nipple or further down her toned pelvis. You don’t intend to share this with anyone but you still decide to leave the most intimate parts of Kafka’s body to the imagination, kind of like they are with you. She watches your clumsy filmmaking attempt with a private smile and doesn’t say a word until the screen turns black and announces the end of your short film. Her pupils are noticeably dilated and with a slight bite of her bottom lip, you can practically see her mind wander into a realm of quiet contemplation.

“…Well, what do you think?” You speak up first, softly so as to not break her train of thoughts, and nervously tap the “delete” key on your laptop with a forefinger.

Her head tilts to look at you, the same smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes you’re not sure how to decipher. “It’s…” she begins, choosing her words carefully, “bold, sensuous, provocative… Very me. The first half is pretty sweet, lowers your guard for the rest.”

“It’s kinda sloppy.”

“It’s me. I didn’t even know you filmed something like this,” she admits, looking back at the laptop and reaching over to replay the beginning of the video.

She means the implicit intimacy of her life alongside yours, this side of her she never thought could be so obvious, yet it’s laid out for the both of you to see, plain as day and indisputable.

“You’re the one who posed for it, babe.”

She laughs quietly, not denying your words. She watches herself smoke on a rooftop she remembers trespassing on, blood spatter across her white sleeves. “True, I was the subject. But I didn’t know you took such artistic liberties with the footage. Didn’t think you could spin it into something so… seductive.”

You press a little closer to her on the bed, folding your knees and resting the laptop on your stomach. Her gaze is on the film while you turn your head to take in the soft lighting on her face.

“It was mostly you,” you say. “That’s just how you look.”

Her eyes crinkle in pleasure. “It’s all thanks to my natural beauty, then?”

“Not all, I did work on it. But yes. I think this is my favorite shot.”

You fast forward to a shot portraying dancing shadows on Kafka's bare chest like multiple hands seeking to grab a piece of her body.

Kafka hums in recognition. “I remember when you filmed this one, it took a couple of tries because you wouldn’t stop playing with my boobs.”

“Yeah, I have some clips of that actually.”

Kafka gives you an unimpressed look and rolls her eyes when you respond with a lopsided smile.

“In my defense,” you press pause to look at her, “you have very gorgeous boobs. They’re perky and sit prettily on your chest.”

Your straightforward assessment makes her chuckle but she absorbs the praise like a sponge in water. A teasing smirk forms on her lips, the creases around her eyes her very own way to preen.

“Oh, really?” She replies lightly, pleased. “Well, I’m glad you find them pleasing to the eye.”

“And to the touch.”

“Of course, you’re not only an admirer but an experienced connoisseur.”

Her voice lowers and takes a huskier tone as she maintains eye contact with you, her right hand deliberately drawing patterns on your abdomen. You shut your laptop and discard it on the nightstand then turn around to press a palm on the center of Kafka’s naked chest, pushing her onto her back and against the cool sheets.

“Yeah,” your knees are planted on each side of her hips and your hand brushes her open shirt further to the side before cupping her breast. It fills your palm with a satisfying weight. “They’re really pretty.”

Kafka lets out a low hum as you take command, she settles into the firm mattress and her chest rises steadily beneath your gentle touch. You caress the familiar path around her breast, the sensation sending a low thrum of pleasure through her.

"They are, aren't they?" She agrees, her words laced with anticipation while her gaze drinks in the desire etched on your features.

“Ugh, I can’t even reproach your cockiness this time because it’s true.”

Her smile turns smug at your playful chiding and earnest praise. Her body responds positively to your touch, arching into your absent kneading and snaking an arm around your waist to bring you closer. Her lips part silently when you flick her nipple with a fingernail. Her gaze darkens past the amusement in it though she keeps still for now, ignoring her growing arousal and instead focusing on your expressions as you run your hands across her sensitive skin. The fingers not groping her chest travel down her abdomen and leisurely trace her navel. You regard her body with unashamed admiration, it’s in every caress and every glance, and it’s a sort of high that she chases by baring herself to you.

“Don’t get excited now,” you warn her, eyes briefly flitting to hers, “I’m just enjoying touching you.”

She chuckles, a hint of a challenge in the air following her teasing reply, “Oh, I’m well aware of your enjoyment, baby. You’re not exactly subtle about it. But I won’t lie… I’m definitely getting excited.”

“We just had sex.”

“True, we did…” She slowly concedes and purposely trails off in a sultry murmur. Her splayed fingers trail up the expanse of your back over your shirt. She lays a hand on top of yours on her breast and encourages you to squeeze more firmly. She makes a show of gasping softly at the sensation. “You should know, though, the thrill doesn’t just stop at one time. It lingers, it builds… and it craves more.”

You harshly pinch her nipple in reprimand. “Don’t be corny.”

Kafka’s eyes shut for an instant, relishing the pleasure-pain zapping along her limbs like an electrical current. She inhales sharply through her nose.

“Corny, huh? Maybe I’m just feeling especially poetic tonight.”

“As I’m playing with your tits?”

A playful smile quirks up her lips. “Sometimes inspiration strikes in the most unexpected moments. And I happen to find your touch very inspiring.” She lifts her torso off the bed, pressing up against yours, and tilts her chin upwards. Her mouth brushes yours with every word she speaks and her hand guides your own down the lines of her chest and over her toned stomach to rest on the waistband of her shorts. “In fact,” she purrs, “your touch makes me want to write sonnets.”

“…Incorrigible.” Your hand doesn’t progress further and Kafka feigns a pout. “How are you still horny?”

“How could I not be with you touching me like that?”

You lightly tug at her shorts and your fingertips graze the coarse hairs that greet you, prompting a quiet sound of satisfaction from her.

“Like what?” You ask innocently, now fully feeling her soft hair and ignoring the hardening bulge that’s starting to take shape under her clothes.

“Mmm, like you’re going to be in trouble if you keep teasing me…”

Unashamed, Kafka grips your wrist and leads your hand lower, to the firm tent in her shorts silently demanding more of your focused attention. As your palm deliciously presses against her, her fingers curl around your nape and she captures your lips in a languid kiss. It’s slow and deep, meant to rouse your dormant passion, and she doesn’t let you go until your chest burns with the need to breathe freely. You lightly squeeze her growing erection in warning, she nips your bottom lip in retaliation. You can feel her smile into the kiss before her lips part in a gasp when you palm her just so, cheekily tracing the defined length of her shaft. She’s not wearing any underwear, courtesy of your earlier activities, and you can feel the warmth of her skin seeping through the thin garment. Kafka moans into your mouth as you stroke her, never one to hide how nice she’s feeling, especially since her throaty sounds of encouragement spur you on like nothing else. She gets what she wants without asking, and you forget why you were ever going to deny her in the first place.

“Aeons, you’re hot,” you breathe out against her lips after another raspy moan from her, “I could hear you make those noises for me forever.”

Kafka’s laugh is breathless, “Yeah? Are you going to pull out your camera, immortalize this moment too?”

“Don’t tempt me…” You let her steal another kiss from you and tilt your head upwards to allow her mouth to travel down your jaw. “I could make a compilation of every groan out of your mouth when you enter me.”

“A compilation, hmm…?” She licks a long stripe up to your ear, then sucks the lobe into her mouth. Her voice is hushed and sultry against your eardrums. “You have a collection of my moans, baby?”

“You’d be surprised. Though not that much, considering you knew I was holding the camera each time.”

You think your short film might have aroused her more than she let on; paired with her sensitivity from her previous orgasm just an hour earlier, she’s easily worked up in the palm of your hand. Your thumb applies pressure on her already weeping slit, staining the inside of her shorts with pre-cum you can’t wait to clean off of her throbbing cock. You feel her teeth graze your skin at the motion, and her grip on your neck tightens a tad. She doesn’t urge you to touch her properly yet, enjoying the pleasant sensation of anticipation swirling through her belly.

“I did know,” she agrees shamelessly, panting softly into your ear, “there’s something so exciting about you watching me twice… first through your own eyes, then through the camera lens, like you can’t get enough of me.”

You don’t contest her words. Your hand moves to her base and cups her balls firmly, and you swallow the intoxicating noise she makes with insistent kisses on her wet lips.

“I could show you,” you whisper, your breath short.

“Yeah?”

You withdraw from her not without a lingering kiss, bringing your wandering hand along, and climb off of her to reach for the laptop on the nightstand. Kafka exhales long and deep to regain some of her bearings. She glances down at her aching length and bites her lip, already missing your eager touch, but brushes some hair out of her face before turning to you lying flat on your stomach. Your chest still heaves with excitement as you look through your folders. She gets a premium view of your backside like this and can’t help slowly running a hand down the pretty curve of your spine while she waits patiently. You quickly find what you’re searching for.

You click on a video. Her eyes flit to the screen. The camera work is shaky and the room is dark so not much can be properly discerned, but a few seconds later the distinct sound of your voice rings out through the laptop’s speakers, soft and whiny, almost immediately followed by Kafka’s deep, throaty groans. She intently listens to the sweet, heated cries of pleasure you make and the recognizable, wet sounds of sweaty flesh slapping against flesh. Your head turns to catch her eye over your shoulder, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

“What do you think? Don’t we sound great together?”

Kafka smiles in response, eyes dark yet burning with an intensity that can only promise sore limbs in your near future. She drapes herself over you, her thick cock pressed against your ass and her chest flushed to your back as she pulls the tip of your ear between her lips. The video continues though it’s not very long, a harmonized version of your voices filling the otherwise quiet of your shared hotel room.

“I think…” Kafka murmurs hotly directly into your ear, patting the nightstand’s surface for your digital camera until her fingers close around the desired object, “we should make a different kind of movie. Don’t you?”

Kafka also gives you full liberty this time around but unlike the first short film you made of her in the moonlight, every blissed out roll of her eyes and flush of her skin is entirely authentic.