#sue x reader

[maskofmilves]

Would give you anything if you wrote a smut where Sue makes reader ride her strap after she finds out you have been flirting with Elisabeth 😵‍💫

CONTROL YOURSELF (Sue x Reader)

Contains NSFW content: strap-ons, vaginal sex, violence

a/n: Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy!

Words: 227

“What got you to be this much of a slut for you to flirt with HER of all people huh?” Sue gripped harder onto your hips, making you grind down on her toy cock.

“Because-”

“Spit it out or I stop.” She threatened. Thrusting up into you harder.

“Fuck you-”

“You better after this.” She hissed.

It was painful the way she continued driving herself into your cunt, but it was addicting.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you and her. I don’t know why she just moved out. I swore I saw her last week-”

“You did and you talked to her. Don’t lie.”

Finally, you give in. “I talked to her because she’s actually really nice to be around once you talk to her for a bit! Fuck. Unlike some people, I know.”

“Why!” Sue was furious with you at this point. She had pure hatred in her eyes instead of lust when this started. Even has a neighbor, it was hard to get around her, like walking on eggshells.

“She’s lonely- I felt bad for her-”

Sue stopped thrusting and practically tossed you off the couch. “Do NOT talk to her. She’ll get to you. She’s destroying me.” There was a drawl to her voice.

“Why do you hate her?”

“She’s all crybaby because I took her job…FAIR AND SQUARE. Now, get out.”

[cum-cowboy]

We need The Substance fanfics so bad like Elisabeth sparkle x Reader and Sue x Reader 😩

[lilly-townshend]

okay so there's NO WAY in hell that Silco, Vander and Felicia never got themselves in a life or death situation before the bridge incident THEREFORE I have this fun little foreshadowing headcanon

So basically baby Felicia initiates a mission that almost gets Silco killed (my boy didn't even want to go) - but he survives by pure luck and immediately forgives Felicia (bc he's a child still and friendships mean more than common sense)

The kick is that Felicia feels so horribly guilty that Silco suggests they keep the whole thing a secret from everyone - including Vander, who was not there when everything happened. Vander never finds out.

‘A GOOD TRAGEDY IS ALWAYS BOTH PREVENTABLE AND INEVITABLE’ - I scream as they drag me away to the asylum

[tojisun]

the squad goes to an aquarium for team building whatsoever and simon falls absolutely in love with this nerd who keeps spewing fish facts to their own group who, for the most part, are interested and intrigued.

he doesn’t even realize that he started shadowing them until one of the girls turned around, perfectly trimmed brow cocked up, and goes, “uhm sir, what the actual fuck are ye tryna do?”

“uh,” simon utters, unintelligible because yeah, what the actual fuck was he trying to do? “fish facts? i, uh, wan’ t’hear more, s’all.”

“oh!” you cheer, chuckling, vibrating from where you’re standing. “that’s great! we’re on our way to see the invertebrates — d’you wanna tag along?”

“sure,” simon murmurs, not really clocking into what you said, just that you are finally looking at him and simon is gone. taken away by the crinkles of your eyes and the creases when you smile, and the way your hand flaps in uncontainable excitement. “i’d love that.”

you hum, nodding, before turning around to go. only then does simon notice your friends’ knowing looks.

“what,” he bites out, blushing in embarrassment at being caught.

the one who’d confronted him just sighs like this is a common occurrence.

(meanwhile, simon’s friends are blowing up his inbox because they just fucking lost their tank of a best friend.)

[ohimsummer]

pumping puppyboy! satoru’s aching, drooling cock, slick and sticky, endless beads of pre bubbling out the tip. his hands fist at the sheets, hips bucking up into your relentless hold as ceaseless whimpers slip by his lips no matter how hard he bites his tongue. even more embarrassing is the involuntarily kick of his leg whenever you squeeze his base, tongue gliding over that sensitive vein on the underside of his cock. his limbs twitch, and then there goes that leg again, itching back and forth as you stroke your tongue along the underside of his weeping length.

his back arches off the bed, head sinking into the soft sanctuary of pillows as you fondle at satoru’s sensitive balls. the movement of his leg quickens as he nears his orgasm, voice cracking as whimpers of ‘f— fuck—!’ and desperate begs of ‘please please please please…!’ grace the air.

with one last squeeze to his cock, satoru’s cumming with a strangled cry, painting your face and chest with thick, hot ropes of his seed. his flailing leg slows to a tired bounce before dramatically falling limp with the rest of his body.

you lean over satoru and his heaving chest to press featherlight kisses on his warm cheeks, murmuring praises of ‘good boy, you did so well for me’ into his pricked ears. he gives a whine through shuddered breathes. another twitch shoots through his restless leg, tail wagging at your affections; you open your arms wide, and satoru leans into you immediately, tired and eager to melt into the tranquil comfort of your embrace.

🐶: @staryukis @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @neptnszn @anthoosies @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @rosso-seta @sapphireandange @starlightanyaaa @neptuneblue @babytoshiii @kissesfrombelle @v0ctin @biscuitsngravie @purplegemadventures @luvvforliaa @apatauaia @sataraxia @leilalilox @sugu-love @manyno @deepenthevoid @blkkizzat :3

[k3n-dyll]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; 18+, wlw, subtop!sevika, dom!reader, bondage, strap referred to as a dick/cock, afab!reader, strap sucking, strap on usage (r!receiving), riding, spit, oral (S!receiving), squirting, porn w/o a plot, not proofread

𝐖𝐂 - 3.3k

𝐊𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆ Took a break and just yapped for a while but the fics are back! Sub!Sev truthers, come get y'all juice!

Subtop!Sevika that was...reluctant to let you do this at best. Initially, when you asked, she fully thought you were joking.

"You want to what?" Her head tilted slightly to one side as she questioned you, her brow quirked upward as an amused, almost teasing smile played at the corners of her lips.

"C'mon Sev, I'm serious." You say, playfully rolling your eyes at your girlfriend. "I wanna be in charge tonight...and...maybe, I dunno... tie you up?"

To her it was kind of funny, actually - the woman she so often reduces to nothing more than a whining, drooling puddle beneath her suddenly thinks she would even know what to do in the event that Sevika went along with this. It was bold of you to even suggest it. So bold that she decided to say 'fuck it' and entertain your little fantasy.

Subtop!Sevika who almost chuckles at how gently you lace the ropes around her wrists, teasing you about how you can pull them tighter.

"I'm not made of glass, baby"

You just shake your head a little, but you do go in to tighten them a little more before stepping back and admiring your work. She looks more vulnerable than you've ever seen her like this - wrists bound to the headboard, naked except for the silicone strapped to her hips. The sight sends heat pooling in your panties.

As much as she tries to hide the movement, Sevika finds herself squirming against the harness in an effort to soothe the growing ache between her legs. You chuckle but you can't say you blame her. You aren't exactly aiming to make this easy for her - tauntingly ridding yourself of one article of clothing at a time, moving painstakingly slow as you watch her try to keep it together.

The frustration that courses through her at the realization that she can't touch you isn't something she anticipated. She's always prided herself on her restraint, her ability to keep herself grounded. But as she watches you crawl up toward her, settling your body between her legs, that confidence is lost.

Subtop!Sevika who groans like she can feel it when your lips wrap around the tip of the toy, her brows pulled together as she watches your head begin to bob up and down, coating it down to the base with your saliva, lightly gagging as you work.

"Fuck you're driving me insane, baby..."

Her sharp silver eyes track your every movement, her own hips gently bucking upward to make sure it goes deep into your throat, the visual alone making her gush. You pull your mouth away with a soft 'pop' before leaning up to kiss her, a string of spit connecting your lips as you pull back to lower yourself down on her, letting out a soft groan as you feel yourself stretch around the girth.

"Don't move" You warn, the slight shifting of her legs behind you indicating that she intends on bucking into you the first chance she gets. "You do that, you don't cum tonight."

Sevika scoffs at your words, but she doesn't try to call your bluff. She's made that threat before. Hell, she's made good on that threat before and she has no doubt that you would jump at the first opportunity for payback if it came to that.

"Fine." She huffs out, forcing her hips still.

Subtop!Sevika who knows with one good tug - she could easily break these binds and go to town on you if she wanted. You know it too. Even if her flesh hand wasn't able to break through, her mech arm could saw, slice, or yank its way through the ropes without so much as a strain. And yet here she is, letting you torture her. Letting you use her.

"You look s'good up there...riding my fucking dick like that" Sevika stifles a whine, the base of the toy pushing up against her clit with every movement, her eyes drinking in the sight of your body moving on top of her. The way your chest heaves with heavy breath, your hair wild and sticking to you with sweat, the way your tits bounce as you ride her. "I- I wanna move... I - let me move, please"

She'd intended to sound much more commanding than she had, her flustered expression indicative of just how unintentional that desperate plea had been. Her brows are furrowed in frustration, fingernails of her flesh hand curling deep into the calloused skin of her palm. A soft, mocking chuckle escapes your throat at the sight.

"Are you begging, Sev?"

"No, I'm not fuckin'-"

You cut her off with a soft shake of your head, a hand resting loosely on her throat as you slow your movements to a stop.

"Wrong answer, Sev. Try again"

Her jaw clenches and she lets out a huff, opening her mouth as she readies herself to protest, but your hand tightens around her throat before she can get another word out, the action shocking her enough to shut herself up again. You have a lot more restraint and conviction to this than she'd initially thought.

"You're really serious, aren't you?"

You just tilt your head and stare down at her, squeezing a bit tighter at her throat. A shiver surges through her body, abs clenching as she tries and fails to ignore how much the sudden authority you have over her in this moment is turning her on.

"Fuck - fine, baby, just...just lemme fuck you... please? I wanna make you feel good..."

You can't help another dark chuckle that escapes past your lips at the sound of her normally strong, commanding voice becoming shaky and frustrated as she begs to fuck you, her sharp, scowling features softening into what could almost be described as a little pout. It's cute. And as tempted as you are to make her beg more, that vulnerability in her expression is something you rarely get to see. It warms you to think about how much trust she has for you to even let this happen in the first place, and god, you'd be a fool to say 'no' to those big pretty eyes.

"Well, since you asked so nicely pretty girl..."

You lean down to press your lips to her own, and before you can pull back or say anything else her hips are bucking up off of the mattress in a single hard thrust, Sevika grunting into your mouth at the limited freedom she's been allowed. You take her hands in yours, holding them to either side of the headboard. It's the only thing that stops her from pulling out of the binds on her wrists and grabbing your waist, and the only thing keeping you balanced with each, slow, aggressive upward snap of her hips.

Sevika's gaze is fixed in on your hips and thighs, watching them jiggle as she fucks up into you, her large hands wrapping around your own to keep you there. Her restraint visibly falters as her pace picks up, the muscles in her legs and core being forced to do most of the work with her arms no longer being an option, the added obstacle just making her grunt and moan and huff that much more, the usual filth that spills from her lips barely coherent through her haze.

"Love doin' this t'you baby, fuck...could fill you up like this every day.."

You, of course, aren't any better, your responses coming out as nothing but whimpers and unintelligible praise at how good she's doing for you. For a brief moment, you forget your role in this, begging to cum nearly just as much as she's begging you to let her take you, and, though uncharacteristically, she doesn't even try to take advantage of the slip, too focused on pleasing you to care who's in charge right now.

"Fuck, I'm- Sev-" You stumble over your own words, but she knows exactly what you mean to say, forcing herself to keep up her pace despite the burning in her muscles, her grip on your hands becoming more firm.

"Cum for me, please... wanna see you fall apart"

You're practically done for at the sound of her breathy pleas, the sight of her desperation and the tip of her cock hitting up against your sweet spot pushing you over your boiling point all too easily. The mess you make would be embarrassing if not for how good it feels, your core tensing up, breath caught in your throat as your juices squirt against Sevika's strap as well as her lower stomach. It takes every bit of energy you have to not collapse on top of her quite yet, knowing full well she needs to cum just as badly as you had, and you intend to give her that

"Such a good girl for me..." You murmur breathlessly. "See how easy it was to listen to me?" You ask, though you don't give her the chance to answer with much of anything but a lazy nod before your lips are on hers again, the kiss hard and messy. When you begin trailing said kisses down her neck though she takes pause, a look of slight concern taking over her features

"You're tired, take a break" she murmurs, pretending to be okay with not getting what she wants yet despite her obvious squirming.

You just roll your eyes and shake your head, not stopping your advances in the slightest, hands already running down her body and undoing the harness to the strap-on to pull it away from her soaked cunt.

"You don't get to say when I'm done this time, love, remember?"

There's an unmistakable tinge of shyness that consumes her when you pull the toy away from her body, the woman having to shift her eyes to the side to stifle a whine as you stare down at just how wet she's gotten, the patch of dark hair above her slit glistening with arousal, her clit swollen, walls clenching around nothing - all from just watching you use her.

"Eyes on me pretty girl" You tease, to which she just grunts in mock annoyance. It's a short-lived reaction though. Sevika can only feign indifference for so long, and the sight of you sinking down in between her legs isn't exactly helping her case. She spreads them apart without needing to be asked, unconsciously showing just how fucking eager she is to have you touch her directly, and you waste zero time in obliging her, licking and sucking at the skin of her lower stomach and thighs, tasting the mess you left behind on her body. You don't tease, or try to make her wait or beg this time - as obedient as she's been, she's only going to be able to take so much more, and overpowering you would be an easy feat.

Sevika watches with bated breath as you keep the mix of saliva and squirt in your mouth, your middle and ring fingers tracing gentle lines along her slit before you push the tips of them into her entrance.

"Oh fuck..." A shaky moan pulls from her mouth at the sight of your lips parting, the liquid flowing freely from your bottom lip and onto her already soaked pussy, leading a path from her pulsing clit and down to your fingers as you begin working them in and out of her hole, the combination of juices squelching inside of her with each pump. You can already tell this won't take long with the way her thigh muscles are flexed, a miserably failed attempt to keep them from shaking.

"So fucking pretty, Sev..." You press a kiss to her hardened bud, which makes her twitch against your lips, her soft, warm walls fluttering around your fingers. She's completely abandoned the idea of keeping her little whimpers at bay, making this all the more amusing to you.

"You've gotta let me do this more often if you're gonna sound like this every time..."

"Oh, shut up"

You hum in response, nodding slightly. "I guess there are more fun things I could be doing with my mouth right now, huh?"

The second your tongue makes contact with her sensitive core, Sevika's back arches up off of the bed a bit, her body tensing a little. She wants so desperately to grab the back of your head and shove you further between her thighs but she forces herself to stay calm and in place, balling her hands up into fists and screwing her eyes shut when she feels your tongue start to move in gentle circles against her clit.

"Eyes open, love" You remind her, your free hand coming down to leave a stinging slap against her leg. She whimpers a little but does as she's told, her lids low as she makes herself keep eye contact with you. The only sounds to rival her unrestrained moaning and hard, heavy breaths are the almost obnoxious wet sloshing of your tongue and fingers working her closer to orgasm, your own moans muffled as you press your face even closer to her cunt, her hair tickling against the tip of your nose.

"Please...more - fuck - more, I need more, please"

Begging comes much easier to her now, both because her brain is scrambled and because you're purposefully going so. Fucking. Slow. The gentle pump of your fingers and soft lapping of your tongue against her feels amazing but hell if she doesn't need more than that right now.

"I know, baby, I know..."

When Sevika's in your position, she's much less susceptible to whining and pleading. She loves edging you - getting you right up to that peak before forcing you back down again and repeating it over and over until you can't take it anymore, but you're also much more used to being made to wait. You like it, actually. Sevika on the other hand looks like she might cry or yell and given that this is an entirely new side of her, you're nothing if not a sucker for her right now.

Your lips wrap around the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs, gently sucking and pulling her further into your mouth, your fingers plunging in and out of her, curling up inside of her dripping hole nearly fast enough to hurt your wrist. You ignore the slight burning in place of allowing her increasing volume and the trembling of her body to distract you, watching her core clench and unclench as her breathing becomes more labored and uneven. She's a sight to behold in this state - brown skin glistening in the dim light with sweat, bottom lip wet and swollen from incessant tugging with her teeth as she uselessly tries to keep herself from being too loud, her short dark hair tousled messily atop her head. Her hips are grinding hard against your face, wetting your nose and chin with her arousal as she tries to pull you impossibly closer to her cunt than you already are, her thick thighs trapping you against her body with no way out - not that you were ever intending to move away from her in the first place.

"Fuckfuckfuck - I'm g'na cum, please let - lemme cum on your fucking face, baby"

Sevika's speech is that of a drunk woman - slurred and vulgar despite the lack of alcohol in her system - and when she's finally pushed to orgasm whatever words she was going to say are reduced into little more than random, breathy syllables that don't so much as start a full sentence. By complete accident, her body tenses up so much that she winds up breaking the rope her flesh hand had been tied up in completely, her fingers quickly finding their place tangled into your messed hair to keep you flush against her as she uses your face to ride out her orgasm, her hips stuttering with the aftershocks of finishing so hard. As difficult as it is for you to breathe like this you allow her to get what she needs out of you, even going a bit further until she starts palming at the top of your head, trying to push you off.

"Stop - too much" She manages through quivering breaths, a small and utterly fucked out smile crossing her lips.

You plant one more kiss against her clit before you come up for air, letting out a breathy chuckle as the cool air hits the bottom half of your face in stark contrast to the warmth you'd just been snuggled up against. Sevika finds herself giggling breathlessly at the sight of you - you're wet up to the tip of your nose, her scent filling your nostrils with each inhale. Not that you mind, clearly. Slowly, you slip your fingers out of her, causing one more full-body tremor to go through the half-tied-up woman beneath you, your hand immediately going up to your mouth so you can clean up her mess, moaning at the taste of her.

"Guess I should tie you up a little tighter next time, huh?" You say, a playful look in your eye as you gesture to her now free hand and the broken rope hanging limply around the headboard.

Sevika only nods. You half expected her to question your statement about there being a 'next time', but by the look on her face, she wants this to happen more often between you two. She loves being in charge, but being able to just let go for a bit - to not think and just allow you to do as you please - it felt good. Your lips trace sloppy kisses up her body until you reach her lips, catching them in a soft kiss that lingers for a few moments before you pull back. The sheets are drenched, and so are both of your bodies and your face - clean up would be the next logical step here, but Sevika has no intention of letting you up yet. She twists her mech arm out of its binds and wraps both arms around your waist before your foot gets the chance to hit the floor.

"Stay." She grumbles, pulling you beside her again despite your confusion.

"We can cuddle after we get you cleaned up, baby"

Sevika just shakes her head again, almost petulantly, her brows knitting together in annoyance at you for daring to care about being clean right now.

"Just for a bit. Then we can clean up" She mumbles again, standing on her point.

Sevika isn't usually this adamant about cuddling. She enjoys doing it, of course, but when the roles are reversed, getting you clean and comfortable on a new set of sheets is her first priority. Realistically, she knows she's going to wobble too much if she tries to get up now, but she's still bullheaded, even after everything. She doesn't want to give you the satisfaction of saying it aloud so she just holds you down instead.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head a bit at her stubbornness, but you do as she asks and stop resisting her, nuzzling against her chest as you lay down with her, the woman rolling the both of you over a bit to avoid to cold spot on the sheets. Mindlessly, you pull her leg up onto your hip, tracing patterns into her thigh and massaging the muscles there, her real hand doing the same against your back.

"You okay?" You ask after a beat of silence.

She nods.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine...don't...make me get sappy" She mutters and you laugh. You know Sevika like the back of your hand at this point, and it's always been a bit hard for her to verbally express when she's feeling vulnerable. You know that entire display was the most open she's let herself be with anyone in a while, and she's likely more than a little embarrassed at the moment even though she won't say it. You chuckle a little bit.

"Okay, love. Get some rest for me...you big baby."

Reblogs are appreciated || Donations 4 Palestine - Arcane Masterlist

Taglist ; @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut @sevsbaby, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,  @strawberry-shortcakey , @dinakisser, @urbayolet

[suksatoru]

HEAVEN AND BACK.

SUMMARY *��✩‧₊˚ he's destroying a rivalry villain base when he finds you there, a prisoner. known to the world as a villain - Dabi becomes your hero.

Dabi could be very cruel sometimes.

It was instances like this where he knew he was born to cremate. To reduce the world to ashes and nothing more as he kills every low life he comes across. Each one more pathetic than the last, Dabi erases them all within seconds.

The Meta Liberation Army had given the League resources and access to facilities they could have only dreamed of before. The base they were on currently belonged to a rivalry villain group - one which the League despised. They were a pathetic group of people really, power hungry in all the wrong ways.

Dabi hears the sound of what seems like rattling chains from across the hall, and he pauses his movements in confusion, the man in front of him withering on the ground and pleading for mercy-

Dabi finishes him off before carefully making his way towards the source of the sound, his boots maneuvering through the bodies on the ground stealthily as he narrows his brows. Dabi thought he had cleared this floor.

He hears it again - it was unmistakable now, he had mistakingly left someone alive.

Dabi slams the door open with a single kick - it was reinforced with welded hinges, but it was no match for his flames - which melted the metal easily. He steps inside the dark room, hands raised and ready to end whatever unfortunate soul roamed inside.

He sees someone moving in the corner of his eye - the dim light concealing their figure. He moves his flames closer, attempting to shine some sort of a light on the stranger who so stupidly made no attempt to escape while Dabi was distracted with the other villains.

His flames glow in the dark, and he finally sees you, shackled to the ground with wide eyes trapped in a trance - like a deer caught in the headlights.

Your lip trembles as you tug on your restraints once again, a pitiful whimper leaving you as you glance at Dabi with a sheen of panic glossing your pretty eyes

Slowly, he lowers his hand. Trying to understand just what he'd stumbled upon.

A prisoner.

Dabi had a knack for figuring out what kind of people deserved to die. He liked to think that he's always been able to know who was worthy or living and who wasn't. But...

He makes no move to save or end you as he watches quietly, his hands lowered by his sides as gentle, blue sparks glowed from his large palms. His fingers curl into a fist as he remains utterly still, his gaze burning as hot as his flames as you tug again on the cuffs secured around your wrists. You're crying now - tears gliding down your soft cheeks as you peer up at him

You're so quiet, he notices. Even as you cry, not a sound leaves your throat as you keep tugging on those damned restraints. The sound of metal clinking against metal has Dabi snapping out of whatever trance he was in as he slowly takes a single step forward

Seeing him move closer has you kicking against the ground in a weak attempt to get away, backing yourself up against the wall as your eyes shake - hands fumbling as you tug harder and harder-

"Don't move."

You want to cry just at the sound of his voice. His tone sounded like if you did move, those flames you'd seen earlier would return as death finally takes you - it was so cruel. The whole world - that's all you can think as your squeeze your eyes shut and pray for him to not have some sort of an liking to watching his victims suffer as they burned.

You tuck your knees to your chest and lay your head down, your hands hanging limply as your breathing becomes erratic - you're scared. Absolutely terrified.

He uses one hand to hold both of your wrists in place as his fingers shove between your wrist and the metal around it. Slowly, he focuses his quirk to push through the thin space and melt the bounds around you. You don't look up - make no major movement as Dabi breaks them - the metal clangs noisily against the floor. Your breathing has calmed just the slightest bit by now, and you finally look up as you feel the dead weight lift off.

It's quiet as you wait for his next movements - anything that shows that he has intentions to hurt you, to kill you - but he's still kneeling beside you - palm flat against the wall beside your head as he watches your gaze flutter to his - you catch your lip in between your teeth once you realize what he'd done - an attempt to keep yourself from bursting into grateful tears.

"Can you stand?"

His hot breath tickles your ear, warm and the most soothing thing you've felt in so long. He tucks a single arm under yours when he's met with silence, easily bringing you to your feet as you quickly gain composure - breathing unevenly as you lean against the wall

Dabi's heart stutters in his chest when you turn and look at him like that.

Like he put the stars in the fucking sky.

You're sitting beside him in a very crowded get-away car, his coat draped over your head while you peer around at the cheerful number of people - villains - around you. The Liberation Army talked and bustled around you loudly as Dabi remained completely silent from where he sat beside you, a single, protective arm laying on the railing behind you.

He told anyone who asked about you that your quirk is useful - a healing one that pairs great with him for his burns. And while he's lying his ass off completely knowing no one could reverse the damage, he has an excuse for Re-Destro to get you a room right beside his.

You'll be knocking on his door just about every morning, holding a plate with a shy smile as you hand him the fresh food he missed - 'because you weren't at breakfast, Dabi'

He found out you had a habit for drawing when he saw you sketching him onto a fogged window - your finger dragging carefully through the thin layer of frost as you draw his signature scars and soft, puffy hair. All with a smile on your face as you gaze longingly at it. The sight is too much to bear - and he'll leave before you can catch him standing on the other side of the room.

He'd sneak into one of the offices of the building and steal a notebook and various pens for you - leaving them outside your door, in hopes you'll capture the blueness of his eyes and the soft crook of his rare smile amongst the pages.

He'd let you lay with him on nights you couldn't sleep, never once protesting to your soft pleas or questions. You asked him about all sorts of things - and he indulged in you, because what the fuck? Life had been a bitch to him the moment he entered this world. If there was a mistake in the cosmos that led him to his angel, he would take advantage of it and allow himself this one good thing to keep forever.

"Why do you even stick with me anyways, doll? You got the whole world - I bet they'd love you better than I ever could." He whispers, knowing nobody could hold a candle to his love for you. A love that was bigger than life itself.

"Because. You're my hero."

He stills at your words, before kissing your temple.

"I'll be a villain to the rest of the world, but not for you, baby. I'll be your hero - I'll be your everything."

[gilverrwrites]

Sure, canon likelihood aside, the idea of a JayRoy 3-way is hot as fuck, but do you know what’s hotter? BirdFlash

CWs: Mildly dubious concent, overstim. Afab, fem reader.

Imagine being used by Dick ‘make a nun swoon’ Grayson who fucks like it’s his job, and walking sex toy (affectionate) Wally West who eats pussy like it’s his last meal.  

Imagine sitting on Dicks lap, as he presses hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, holding your legs open with strong calloused fingers as he lazily fucks up into your throbbing, drippy cunt. They’ve already made you cum more times than you can remember, you’re a needy babbling disaster. The only thing anchoring you to reality is your hands threaded in Wally's fiery locks.

The man has infinite stamina, Dick may have slowed but Wally is still working your aching clit like he just started. His tongue actually vibrates between noisy, wet, sucking. Every time he groans into your folds you tug harder on his hair. Every harsh thrust from Dick makes a loud, damp, slapping sound due to the obscene amount of saliva and cum.

You can squirm, and cry, and beg as much as you like. There’s no getting out of Dick’s merciless grip, no getting away from Wally’s hungry mouth.

“I-fuck- I can’t take anymore.” You sputter.

Wally pulls away to look at you. Whining with swollen pouty lips. Eyes big and face soaked. “Babbeee, don’t say that!”

“Wally hasn’t even gotten to fuck you yet.” Dick coos, sending a shiver to your suddenly unstimulated bud that makes you clench around him. “Are you gonna deny him after he made you feel so good?”

“N-no, I want...” Your answer is shaky, interrupted by the snapping of Dick's hips.

Dick laughs, right in your ear. Relishing in your broken words, in the way you wither against his hard chest. “What do you want pretty girl? Tell us.”

Wally is on upright now, palming himself at the sight of you; glassy-eyed and stretched out Dick’s cock like a work of art. You reach out helplessly for him, but he rocks back on his hips, defiantly keeping just slightly out of your grasp as he jerks off. Cocky smile on his lips as he encourages, “Dickie Bird asked you a question, what do you want?”

“I want your cock, Wally. Wanna make you feel good.” You cry, and Wally leans forward again. Closing the gap so you can finally paw at his heated, freckled skin as he plants his lips on yours. Kissing you open-mouthed, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Making a real show of it for Dick’s amusement.

“We better make Dick cum then, yeah?” He pulls away, trailing more hurried, careless kisses down your body, eager to get back to lapping at your core. “Get him to paint your insides so I can suck it out of you and fill you back up again. Is that what you want, baby?”

[theorist-fox]

There's no butler in The Usual Suspects

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

18+

Self-indulgent piece because I need some fluff in these hard times

Summary: Simon gets distracted while watching a movie, and then he gets distracted while watching you.

Word count: 2.8k

CW: Kevin Spacey Jumpscare and big fat spoiler for "THE USUAL SUSPECTS". Also, smut in established relationship (Simon is so whipped).

Let me know if you've been cockblocked as well.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

“’S Kobayashi,” he mutters.

You give him a look. “Kobayashi?”

“The—the criminal thing,” Simon gestures vaguely at the TV, legs spread in the spot next to yours on the sofa. “Wha’ was his name.”

He sees you connect the dots slowly, head tilted in question, and then you stifle a laugh when it hits you.

“The criminal thing? You mean Keyser Söze?”

He snaps his fingers at you in recognition. As if you haven’t seen the movie already and only sat down on the living room couch to have him watch it—because that’s a great film, you said. One he can't apparently miss.

“Tha’ one.”

“How can it be Kobayashi.” You deadpan as the TV buzzes with dialogues you’re not paying attention to anymore.

He shrugs. “S’always the butler.”

You chuckle, tucking your legs on the cushions. “Kobayashi’s not a butler.”

“Closest thing.”

“Have you been watching the movie at all?”

Simon gives you a side eye, arms crossed on his chest. Thinks. His gaze falls down your legs inconspicuously before rising up and following the curve of your hips, up until the plump of your breasts outlined by the fabric of your t-shirt. It’s a quick swipe you could’ve missed, but he knows you’ve caught him red-handed.

“Sorta.” He replies, though his voice has a certain hoarseness to it, now.

You give him a knowing smile, echoing the word right after him with so much skepticism he tastes it on his tongue.

“C’mere,” he says, beckoning with his fingers, before gently curling them around your forearm to tug you in.

A quick pat on your thigh has you straddling his lap. You take the blanket with you, draped over your shoulders like a soft cape. Simon cups your hips with his palms, thumbs drawing mindless circles at your hipbones.

“The movie, Si.” You say softly, placing your hands on either side of his neck. 

But his eyes are already tracing the fine lines of your face, tiny imperfections he adores because they make you more real and less of a dream. 

“S’the butler, trust me.” He murmurs, and you chuckle under your breath.

“It's not the butler. There’s no bloody butler.”

It makes his lips curl in a smirk, because he knows you like being right—and he’s more than aware that you are, because, as you've told him for the nth time, there is no fucking butler in The Usual Suspects.

But he stopped watching the whole thing thirty minutes in, when he got the gist of the film, instead favoring to focus on you.

Can’t fucking believe he gets to witness this firsthand, eh?

Gets to have a pretty thing like you share her home. Share her meals. Her bed. Her thoughts, her glances, herself. Fuck, how he’d like to show this to his fucking father. Show him that you chose him, no matter how hard that bastard's tried to turn him into the same worthless sack of shit that he was.

So, frankly, sue him if he doesn’t care about this movie when you’re so obviously there—looking divine in your simplicity.

And now he has you exactly where he wants you. Plush thighs sitting atop his, tongue peeking out to wet your lips.

He leans forward and leaves a peck at the corner of your mouth. Then one kiss on your chin, one down your throat, to your collarbones. He's not choosy, kissing wherever his lips land.

He puckers his lips around your nipple, sucking through the cotton of your shirt, and you arch into him, inadvertently grinding your hips against where he’s already hard. You hiss and glower when he sinks his teeth around it, and his shoulders shake with a breathless laugh at how powerless you look, even if you’re trying your best to appear otherwise. 

Before you can chide him, however, he blinks up and gives you the softest of smiles—aware that he rarely offers them. Aware that they melt your resolve easily, like snow under the morning sun. 

So, really, it’s not long before you drop the blanket on the floor, pooling at his feet—his briefs and sweatpants coiled around his ankles. Your own clothes freckle the coffee table, or the armrest of the couch, or the carpet underfoot—he took them off you and tossed them away blindly, uncaring of where they landed.

It’s not long before he’s worked you open with his hand. Not long before he has you fuck yourself on two thick fingers he occasionally scissors inside you, watching you drag your clit across the heel of his hand—your breathless moans somehow louder than the barrage of gunshots blaring from the TV. 

He stuffs those same fingers in your mouth once he's satisfied with how wet you are. Watches how your cheeks sink at the suction. Feels the rough texture of your tongue coat his pads. He takes them out, then. Smears your spit on your lips only to kiss it with his own.

Soft hands are placed on his chest as he holds the base of his cock to help you sink on him. The screen of the TV creates a halo of light around your shoulders and back, and Simon thinks he’s being blessed—he’ll never get used to it, neither the sight of you nor the warmth of your sex.

Within minutes, he has you stretched around him, taking his cock as if you were born to do it. His palm lies flat on your lower belly, thumb rolling circles on your clit. Simon lets you ride him, watching mesmerized all the things you hate about yourself, all the things that make you so real to his eyes. 

He loves to watch you cum, but for selfish reasons. Not only do you feel heavenly clenching around his cock, milking it for all it's worth, but also because, unbeknownst to you, all those details you seem to despise suddenly bloom before his eyes.

The rolls of your stomach, and how they ripple when your orgasm stalks closer.

The lines curling around your mouth, the way they stretch when you stutter your moans, when you whisper his name among them—like a fucking prayer, like you only know how to say his own.

The crow’s feet at the corners of your eyes—you say they came too early, he says they make your eyes smile. 

And fuck if all that doesn’t make you prettier in his eyes, no matter what you think.

You’re entranced. Heavy lashes curtain your eyes, casting shadows on your cheekbones. It’s ethereal to look at you, wonderful thing in his arms, so abandoned in bliss because of him. Nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders, but there's no pain—not when the plump of your rear slaps against his thighs each time you come down to take him to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He grunts against the tightness of his throat, “You wanna cum, yeah?”

He feels the knot of your clit getting raw under his thumb, so he grabs your jaw and sticks his finger in your mouth. Your lips close around the knuckle, and he watches with heavy eyes how you suck on it, lathering his pad with your spit, before he returns it to your sex. 

He draws his thumb back and forth on your clit, unsheathing it from its hood so that each stroke sends sparks up your spine. You jolt above him when he touches it right, and he drinks in the sight of you trembling when you try and resume the pace.

“You do, don’t you?” He asks again, "Sweet girl."

Your head bobs limply in a nod, and your lips twitch in a smile, because you know he’s going to comply. He'd never take a thing from you—always giving more, and more, and more.

“Fuckin' hell.” He curses under his breath, mouth dry like sandpaper. “I got you, love. I got you—c'mere."

Simon’s arms wrap around your waist to bring you in, allowing you the chance to rest the tireless work of your hips in order to favor his. Your forehead is in the crook of his neck now, and you’re curled into him as he holds you steady and fucks his cock into you from below. 

He whispers nothings in your ear. Calls you beautiful as you come apart piece by piece, unraveling like a spool of thread between his fingers while his calves burn from the strain. Let him be consumed, for all he cares—as long as you're there, sizzling hot and clammy and soft.

He laps at the sweat like dew on your neck, sucking love bites while being careful not to leave any dark spots behind. Though he would love, if anyone were to ask, to mark you up like you’re his property. Symbolic—someone his, and his only.

However, he figures his cock spearing you open is enough of a statement.

The TV drones muted dialogues, drowned in the slap of skin against skin and your soft breaths in his ear. Sweet fucking sounds, he thinks. Would taste like honey, feel like silk.

Liquid warmth wraps around his cock, a cocktail of your arousal and his. It makes something tighten at the apex of his thighs, makes his fingers twitch against the fat of your hips.

He wants to cum inside you. Wants to see it leak out and push it back in only to fuck you again. He wants your face warm and dizzy, your eyes rolled back, and his name on the tip of your tongue.

So, he bucks his hips and fucks his cock into you again, and again, and again. Until you're a shivering mess and your nails are leaving red marks on his back. Until you stumble over your moans and his grunts echo with your own. Curses, praises, whines pitching upwards and—

A bang from the TV.

You jump in his hold, whining something unintelligible over the ringing in his ears.

His mouth twitches in annoyance as he goes and resumes the pace, trying to give you back the orgasm you've clearly lost. One he's fucking lost, too.

But whatever’s happening in the movie must require some build-up of tension, because the volume suddenly skyrockets. 

He tries to pay it no mind. However, you seem to do.

“Turn off the thing,” you mumble through heavy breaths, gesturing blindly to where the remote should be. 

He huffs and looks around for it, using one hand to keep you still as he slows down with his hips. He finds it tucked between the cushions of the sofa and snatches it off before pointing at the TV. 

There, his eyes land on a scene. A close-up of two shoes, walking with a limp at first, and then straightening their step. Cut to a hand lifting a cigarette being brought to a pair of lips. 

“Bloody hell.” 

His voice is so croaky that it has you lift your head in worry, movements coming to a halt. You palm his jaw, your breath puffing against his cheek.

“What? You alright?” You fumble, brows pinching right above your nose. “Did I hurt you?”

“T’was Kint.” He mumbles, frowning in thought. 

The air still smells of sex, but there isn’t an ounce of it left in either of you. You blink, as if the motion could bring you back to earth, as if it could make you forget how painfully tight you’re stretched around him.

“Wh-what?” You pant, confused. Clearly, blood still hasn't made its way back to your head. “Who?”

“Keyser Söze.”

You almost flinch when he says that. Eyes wide and a big, fat question mark floating above your head. Slack-jawed. Befuddled. 

Only when your fucked-out brain connects the dots do you snort.

“K-Keyser So—what the fuck, Simon?” You chuckle under your breath, “Now? Really?”

He blinks. Drops the hand holding the remote next to his thigh with such abandon one might think he’s just received the worst news of his life. Then, he looks up at you, one arm still wrapped around your side, fingers grazing at your tailbone.

“Really fuckin’ thought t'was the butler.” He mumbles in disappointment, but his lips twitch in a smirk.

You burst into a laugh above him, throwing your head back. It ripples through your stomach in waves that rumble against his own, and he realizes that it looks even better when it happens because of this instead of an orgasm. 

It tugs at his heartstrings, and so he tugs you a little closer. 

When you return your eyes to him and bring your hands to cup his cheeks, he nuzzles your palm and presses a kiss against it.

“Told you there was no butler in The Usual Suspects,” you say a little smugly, but with a smile that could brighten up a room.

Simon holds your eyes for a moment longer, and then he wiggles his fingers against your side to steal another laugh out of you. 

“Yeah, alrigh’ smartarse.”

He lifts you up enough to place you on your back on the sofa, tucking his hips between your thighs. He slides his cock inside you again, but you’re so wet that you barely react to it. His hand comes to cup your cheek, while the other one slips between your bodies to brush against your clit.

It throbs under his touch, asking for attention. He gives it, reverently, as he slides in and out of you at the slowest of paces, rolling idle circles that cause the air to lodge in your throat.

You hold him with your arms around his neck, occasionally grazing his scalp with your fingers. Your lips travel from his cheek to his jaw, until you’re softly biting into the meat of his shoulder when he hits something that feels particularly good.

He fucks you languidly this time, as the credits of the film roll like background noise. Simon makes love to you with each lazy kiss down your neck and each slow drag of his cock—deliberate movements that give your orgasm the chance to build up slowly, coiling around your belly up to your throat in a blazing warmth that Simon feels stick to his chest.

It’s not long before you cum around him, huffing heavily from your nose while your teeth sink deeper into his skin. That does it for him, and the knot at the base of his cock finally snaps, causing syrupy hot warmth to travel all the way to the tips of his toes. Simon cums with a muted groan, and his body gives out until his chest falls flush to yours. He spills inside of you and traps your lips in a heavy kiss—because you taste so much better when you’re still shivering underneath him.

Your breath is hot as it hits the damp skin of his neck. Your mouth is warm when you press it to the shell of his ear. And when he comes back to his senses, he props his weight on one arm and looks down at you, basking in the afterglow.

The telly drones silently as it displays the front page of some streaming service you pay for. It’s the only light in the living room, and it bathes you in soft oranges and ruddy shades.

You look lovely like this, he thinks.

He pulls out of you, careful when you wince as his cock drags against your sensitive walls. He watches with rapt attention as his cum leaks out of your hole—it makes his eye twitch and his cock ache once again.

But you seem sated, glassy eyes slow blinking at the ceiling. Chest rising and falling softly.

So, he relents to your wishes and stuffs the thought of having you for a second time in the back of his mind.

And since he knows neither of you can be arsed to clean the sofa in case it stains, he uses his fingers to gently push his cum back inside. You read his mind and cant your hips upward so it won't leak out again.

“Guess perception wasn’t one of the SAS requirements, uh?” You tease him breathlessly, toying with the hair at his nape. A snort escapes you, and you mock his gruff voice. "S'always the butler."

He narrows his eyes and flicks your nose because he knows it'll make you smile. Then, he brings his hand between your faces, watching how his middlemost fingers glisten under the soft light from the telly. 

“How ‘bout you put tha’ mouth of yours to better use, mh?”

You scrunch your nose in a smile. “Like what?”

“Could clean this up, for starters.” He mumbles with a smirk.

You snort. “Charming.”

He gives you a cheeky side eye, but ultimately moves his hand out of the way to kiss your smile. His chuckle is hoarse against your mouth, inviting and warm, as his kisses turn playfully sloppy just to rile you up and have you giggle underneath him.

And you cherish it—like you do every time—by kissing him in kind.

[click4rainy]

Wade Wilson Boyfriend HeadCanons

👽:slowly but surely getting back into my writing 💅🏼 (not proof read just super horny like a clown 🤡 HONKAH HONKAH)

SFW ♥️

★ Wade is a silly guy. So silly in fact, he’ll crack jokes or shoot a sarcastic comment your way—mid argument. “How am I supposed to listen when you look this good right now?” Fear not! Because he knows when to shut up. (When you tell him to)

★ Bro defo has a Roblox account. Not elaborating.

★ Despite his chaotic and reckless behavior, Wade is actually super protective and would go to extreme lengths to keep you safe. And then some. “Hey! Back off! Don’t you fuck with her! Unless you wanna fuck with me too. In that case we’ll need a sit down discussion for—“ “WADE!” “Right—sorry.”

★ Expect big, wild romantic gestures. Like standing outside your window while holding up a boom box. (playing ‘what you won’t do for love’ by Bobby Caldwell) or (attempting at) writing your name with fireworks. (There were definitely ‘unexpected’ explosions)

★ “I know it’s only Tuesday, but I totally, legally rented a helicopter so we can pretend we’re in the aveng—no? Okay…plan B then: Breakfast in bed with (penis) questionable pancakes.”

★ Cuddle bug Wade. Are we surprised? This man lives off of physical touch and affection. Wrapping you up in his arms, not letting you go with a shit eating grin. “Nope, you’re not leaving this couch. We’re practicing the ancient art of Wade Wrapping, which requires at least three hours of cuddles, just sayin.”

★ He is nonstop teasing you. It’s a hobby for him, really. (And his love language) Coming up with silly nicknames for you, challenging you to random games or chores, he’s not below making fun of himself to see you smile either.

★ “Oh-ho? You think you can wipe the track with me in Mario kart? That’s cute.” “Honey—you look fine. Approachable even. Unlike me…” (he says while laying limbless on the bed. Literally….)

★ Uses his dark humor to comfort you in times of ‘what the actual fuck?’ Knowing how to turn even the bleakest of moments into something a little lighter. “Hey, I know life might suck granny tits right now…but at least we’re not in a rom-com where one of us has to die or something worse for the other to grow emotionally, right?”

★ Unwaveringly supportive of you in any conflict. He is going to take your side. Every. Single. Time. Backing you up even if he has literally no idea what’s going on or why. “You said Rick was out of line at work today? Well guess who’s getting a strongly worded letter in the form of interpretive dance in the parking lot?” “Is it Ri—“ “it’s Rick.”

★ Wade loves experimenting in the kitchen with you! Attempting to make meals that sometimes end up in hilarious disasters, followed up by a take out order.

★ He breaks this…’fourth wall’ sometimes. Like looking off into the distance and talking to an invisible audience or camera while addressing you. This dead ass bewilders you at times. But mostly you roll your eyes at his antics.

★ “Can you believe this shit?” He’ll ask, turning to an imaginary audience. “I’m over here being the perfect boyfriend—funny, handsome, protective, all that—and you guys still think Peter Parker is the ‘Ideal Boyfriend’ pffft. Get real.” *turns back to you* “anyway, where were we?”

★ This overgrown man child is a PDA enthusiast. Unashamed of hugging, kissing, or trying to dip you during a playful dance in public. He doesn’t care, he’s proud to be with you and wants everyone to know it. “You know what this sidewalk needs? A spontaneous make out session”

★ One hundred percent would insist on wearing matching or theme outfits. Whether it’s full on costumes or something little like matching socks. “Ta-Da! Matching Taco Cat shirts—no, no. Don’t fight it. This is how we show the world we’re a team. Through peak fashion choices.”

★ Loves movie nights. They’re full of commentary, with your boyfriend narrating or making fun of the movie plots. He’d insist on watching rom-coms or action movies for sure.

★ You’ll receive unconventional love letters in the form of doodles, short jokes, or notes saying “I love you more than The Golden Girls. And that’s saying something. ;)”

★ Wade is a pretty chill dude. He’s not overboard with jealousy. But that won’t stop the man from making his classic (not so jokey) jokes when he feels like someone might be getting too close to you. “Oh, flirting? With you? Cute. Should I go over there and casually mention that I’m the love of your life and also really good with sharp objects?”

★ Beneath all the jokes and chaos, he has moments of genuine, heartfelt affection. Whispering his love and gratitude for you at unexpected times. “I know I never take shit for real. But I’m serious about you, about us. You’re my safe space, the one part of my life that makes sense on this stupid chunk of rock floating in space.”

★ Remembers odd little details about you. Showing it with unexpected gifts that align perfectly with your interests. (Even if they’re a bit off beat.) “I saw this super limited edition action figure of (favorite character). I had to get it for you—don’t ask me how, just say thank you and let’s run—“

★ Randomly belting out terrible renditions of love songs at the top of his lungs, just to get a laugh from you.

★ Acts tough for your amusement, like he’ll pretend to be all macho around your friends to make you laugh. “Yeah babe, I’m like, indestructible. Just gotta…” *struggles to open a jar of pickles* “wait—hold on. This jar is definitely cheating…”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

NSFW 🍆💦

★ Wade love love LOVESSS making you watch while playing with your pussy. Using his mouth, fingers and all kinds of cute little toys.

★ Tying your hands together, behind your back and sitting you in front of the mirror with your legs spread wide as he slowly circles your clit with a bullet vibrator, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “You see how fucking wet you are for me, baby?” “Look. At. This~” “did I say to look away? Didn’t think so…”

★ He’s into all kinds of crazy shit—high key an exhibitionist.

★ Fucking you in a theatre bathroom, pressing you up against the stall while he covers your mouth, dipping the head of his cock teasingly into your aching cunt.

★ “I don’t give one shit if someone hears us, I need you. Now.” “Shhh baby, gotta stay quiet if you wanna cum.” “Stay still now…”

★ Eating you out in the back of the car, hands kneading your plush thighs while looking up at you with that knowing, shit-eating grin. Not even bothering to wipe you from his chin.

★ Struggling to keep your eyes on the man, a red flush taking over your face as the vibrations of his groans send shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

★ Fingering you under the table/using a remote control vibrator on you when you’re out having dinner. “Yeah that’s it for me and uh, what about you babe?” He asks nonchalantly, as if he weren’t bumping the bullet to its highest intensity or running his fingers over your panty clad pussy. All the tasty stuff. It’s the thrill of almost being caught for him.

★ Baby girl also LOVES when you take control. Straddling him, tying him up to the bed, slapping his face. He’s fucking into it.

★ F-fuckk~ wan—wanna touch you so bad~” he whimpers, hips bucking involuntarily while you ride him, bouncing in his lap with your hands on his shoulders and his cuffed. “Mmff—need to cum…please, please—I’ll do whatever you wa—aaah, fffuck!”

★ Wade loves to buy you new toys/lingerie sets all the time! He’ll come through the door with a bag full of new things to try out or on. “Oh, come on—put the bunny ears on…I’ll let you do that one thing you like.”

★ Costumes, dressing up, role play. Cops and robbers, Professor and student, Master and pet. He loves that shit and has a lot of fun with it.

★ “You have the right to remain silent, on your knees, now.” He’ll smirk, cuffing your hands behind your back, trailing a finger down your cheek before fucking your face. “Cock hungry bitch, aren’t ya? Such a good girl…” he croons, pulling at your leash.

★ “You call that begging, honey? Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but you’re gonna have to be louder than that if you want me to fuck you silly.” He teases, sending a sharp smack to your ass while prodding at your slick pussy with his shaft, making you arch and whine out for him.

★ If you’re into it, he has no issue with knife/gun play. “How does it feel…?” he purrs into your ear, slowly sliding the cold metal up your stomach, circling your belly button before trailing up your chest, then collarbone, pressing the blade/barrel to your throat/temple. “Scary? Hot? Scary-Hot?”

★ Loves making you squirt, finger fucking you into oblivion, thumb pressed against your clit until you can’t take anymore. “Fuck yeah, baby.” He pants, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and cleaning them with a simple ‘pop’.

★ “Mhhh…” Wade hums in delight before shoving the same fingers into your mouth—pushing past your teeth, forcing you to taste yourself with a groan “You’re so yummy, don’t you think?”

★ If you’re being a brat, expect proper punishment. “Oooh, talking back to me, huh?” He’ll ask, gripping your face with one hand, forcing you to keep eye contact. “Watch that damn mouth of yours, pretty bitch. And keep riding me—I didn’t say stop.”

★ He’ll make you grind your hips until you’re sore. It’s so fucking good it hurts. “Awww, my poor baby…look at you crying and riding. You must be exhausted, hmm?” Wade grunts, bouncing you on top his lap as if you were a rag doll. His cock slamming into you, hitting that sweet spot—never missing a beat. “Keep going—be a good girl and keep going…”

★ Once you’re both a spent, panting, boneless mess beside each other, he’ll shower you with praise and pepper your face with kisses, combing your unkempt hair with his fingers as he caresses your arm.

★ Wade would set up a diy spa in the bathroom for you. Complete with cucumber slices, a glass of wine (or whatever you want) and a bath that’s wayyy too bubbly. He’d try and give you a foot massage while joking “Only the royal treatment for my queen. Minus the actual royalty…those guys were more fucked up than half of Alabama…”

👽:I wanna be SAVED Deadpool PLEASEEEE SLUT ME OUTTTT

[samkerrworshipper]

close your eyes

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader, arsenal x reader

part 1 of beautiful girl series-> pt.2 -> pt.3

warnings: drug abuse, drug addiction, mentions of sexual assault, sexual assault, jordan and leah r broken up, basically a trauma dump, unedited, if you are not in an okay headspace this fic is not for u, based on beautiful boy

You find it hard to remember the last time you felt loved. 

Not the kind of love that people tell you everyday, no, real unconditional, meaningful, purposeful love. The kind of love where a person looks at you like you single handedly hung the stars and the moon, the kind of love where it feels like nobody could love you in the same way, the same love that shakespeare wrote poems about, the same love that you know that you could never be capable of receiving. 

You don’t really blame anybody but yourself, how could people love you, how could people want to love you? You weren’t a loveable person, in your opinion you were quite frankly the exact opposite. 

Maybe when you were eight, when you were cute and loveable, when you had cute little piggy tails and wore pink overalls and only wanted to dance and talk about unicorns. 

Maybe when you were ten and you spent every afternoon practising football in the backyard with your moms. 

Maybe when you were twelve and your only aspirations for life were to win your school spelling bee and captain england just like your mom. 

From then on, it all seemed like one big blur. 

From 12 onwards you don’t think a lot of you was lovable, hell you hardly thought eight year old you was lovable, a tiny little orphan who had seen so much of the world and yet none of it, yet your moms had spent every single day trying to make you feel like you were and it had worked. For possibly the first time in your life, you’d felt that love, like a whole galaxy revolved around you, like no matter what happened in your life, you could face it. 

It was funny how fast that feeling could fade. 

It wasn’t really that surprising that you’d seeked out something to fill the hole inside of you, or at least that’s how you saw it. 

It started at 14, when you were so consumed with all of the pain around you, the shit storm of broken relationships and the broken home that now replicated the same one you’d come from. Babies learnt to self soothe by being left to cry, teenagers learnt to self soothe through pain. 

First it was spending as much time as possible out on the pitch with your moms, every single one of your afternoons spent practising, and any minute you weren’t on the pitch it was non stop studying. 

You formed a anger for it, a pure hatred for the sport that your moms were so fond of, a sport that had brought them together and inevitably forced them apart. 

At 15 you left football behind, you focused on your school, spending every spare minute on your studies, they headaches and migraines, the stress, the anxiety, it was all good, it proved that you were trying, it filled the hole inside of you. 

When you were 15, you stopped caring. Your mama stopped caring, she moved 3 hours away for her own career, she didn’t have time to care about your school work, as for your mom, it wasn’t an easy job captaining the lionesses to a european championship, she had bigger problems then you.

When you turned 16, everything changed. Your mom tore her acl, Lia moved in, there wasn’t any room for you, let alone room for you to be loved. Your mama stopped visiting as often, only when it was necessary, for the first time in a while, you felt alone, truly alone. 

When you turned 17, you found other ways to self soothe. Babies cried for attention, out of hope that they’d find some of that love that they were missing when they were alone. Babies cried because they had no other way of conveying the loneliness and desperate need they had for whatever they were seeking. Teenagers do stupid things in search of the same thing, love, attention and in search of something. Teenagers are stupid by default, you weren’t unbeknownst to that, the eight year old version of you though would have swore six ways to sunday that you’d never behave in the way you were, out of fear that you’d end up back where you’d come from, that you’d lose the only family that had ever showed you a glimpse of love, teenage you figured there wasn’t any more love for you, it had all been swallowed up by younger you, taken before you could really understand the magnitude of that love, before you needed it the very most. 

Maybe it was the pot speaking, or the nicotine from your vape, or it was just the overwhelming cloud that always seemed to hit when you were high. It would fade eventually, it always did, all the deep emotional shit that made you want to cry would go, and you’d be left mellowed out, all of your feeling sucked out like a deep exhale, sometimes it just happened to be that you had to feel it all before you felt nothing, before the overwhelming numbness hit you and the hole in your heart was filled once again. 

You flinched at the knock on your bedroom door, you were grateful enough for the warning, it had taken a lot of convincing to your mom and her best friend before they’d finally agreed to it. 

You didn’t bother trying to hide your vape, the joint you had been smoking had been put out a couple of minutes ago. 

“Come in.”

You stayed sat on the ledge of your window, your head hanging halfway out, the cool london winter breeze making your lips numb and your face pink. 

The door opened slowly and you kept your eyes on the outside street, watching the cars drive past underneath you. 

“Hey, dinners ready if you want to come down.”

You nodded absentmindedly, avoiding Lia’s eyeline. 

“It’s freezing, close your window.”

You looked over at the swiss woman, a woman who was now so familiar in your home that you saw her more than the woman you called your mama. 

“I’m good.”

You took a deep breath, one last inhale of the chilly air before turning to face Lia and uncurling your body, standing up and walking towards the door where she was standing. 

“If you want to live in Antarctica then that’s your call.”

You try your best to suppress the eye roll, instead opting to pull your vape from your pocket and take a deep inhale, it’s not as good as the cold air but it’s something. It also helps to cover the weed scent that you’re trying to cover up. 

Lia walks behind you, shaking her head at the puff of vapour that hits her right in the face as you make your way down the stairs and into the living room and then into the dining room. 

Your mom is sitting at the table, fiddling with the cutlery and looking down at the meal that you know she most definitely did not cook. 

It was one of the only bonuses of having Lia around, when jordan left the healthy and yummy food had turned into mostly take away and food that wasn’t cooked on a stove top because Leah had learnt her lesson after the multiple calls to the fire department. 

You sat down in your normal chair, taking another hit of the vape in your hand before setting it down on the table and replacing it with a fork. 

“I thought we’d talked about no vapes at the dinner table, bubba.”

You focused down at the bowl of spaghetti that was in front of you, it was the night before a game, which meant carb loading, you’d never been fond of pasta, although you supposed that had slipped Leah’s mind in the last couple of months. 

“I’m not using it at the table, am I?”

You could feel the look of disapproval from your mother from the other side of the table. 

You pushed your fork into the pasta, searching for a meatball instead of the pasta that you were desperate to avoid. 

“Bubba I think you can put it away for half an hour every night, please.”

You pull your spare hand out of your hoodie, grabbing at the vape and slipping it into the pocket. 

You focus on stabbing the meatball that your focus has locked onto, keeping your eyes downcast and focused on locating all of the saucy balls and shoving them into your mouth as quickly as possible. 

Just as you’ve located and eaten all of the orbs that you can guarantee Lia made all by herself, your mom directs conversation at you once again, pivoting from whatever she was talking to Lia about, 

“We’re playing in Manchester tomorrow night, you’re welcome to come with us on the bus if you want, or you could go with mumma, I think she’s planning to drive up to watch the girls. The girls haven’t seen you in a while though, Lotte has been missing you, she’s been asking me about you.”

You’d distanced yourself from your moms club teammates for a multitude of reasons, but it all stemmed down to the hatred that you had for arsenal, the love that your mom had for the club, the club that took all of her time, her teammates that saw more love then you felt you did. 

“I think I'll just stay home for the weekend, mama is going to be in town anyways. Plus Maya and I were planning to do something tomorrow night.”

She was going to be in town, it didn’t mean you had plans to see her. 

“Maya? Do I know a Maya?”

You tried your best not to be annoyed at your moms sudden concern about your social life. 

“She’s just a friend.”

You could practically feel the eyebrow raise from the other side of the table.

“What were you and Maya planning on doing tomorrow night?”

You looked up for the first time, gritting your teeth.

“I don’t know, hang out, have some fun, nothing special. I want to see mama and I want to hang out with friends, is that not enough for me to stay home for the weekend,? It'll only be a night.”

You watched your mom collapse in, her eyes straying to the side to look at Lia. 

“So it’s friends now, plural? I talked to Jord yesterday, she didn’t say that you had anything planned with her for this weekend.”

You wanted to bolt upstairs back to your room, light a joint and stick your head back out of your window and enjoy the serenity that came from it, but you held strong. 

“Yes, friends, I have more than one, we’ll probably just hangout at someones house, no biggie. I haven’t talked to mama yet because I didn’t know what I was doing this weekend.”

Your moms eyebrow only raised further up her forehead, the line of hair practically melting into her hairline. 

“I was a teenager once, you think I don’t know what a hangout turns into?”

You were about to rebut, answer with some snappy answer that probably would have gotten you in more trouble than you would have wanted, but you were silenced by the swiss woman sitting to your left. 

“She’ll be fine Le, she’s smart, she’ll leave her location on, she won’t do anything you wouldn’t. Right?”

You nodded cautiously, a little bit shocked by the swiss woman’s attempt to help you out. 

“Yes, I’ll leave my location on and I’ll meet up with mama the next morning, I’ll be responsible, I always am.”

You were grasping for anything, any reason to make your mother agree. 

“Fine, but you do anything stupid, and I mean anything, then you’ll be in big trouble missy, and I want you to eat some more of that dinner, Lia puts a lot of work into feeding us.”

You swallowed the argument about your hatred for pasta, in favour of nodding your head meekly and twirling some of the noddles with your fork, forcing them into your mouth even if it made you cringe internally, it was a hard meal to swallow, but you did it for the sake of making your mother happy, something that you seemed to constantly be doing. 

Once you’d eaten half of the pasta you called it quits, walking up towards the kitchen sink and cleaning out your bowl before placing it into the dishwasher and sacking it properly before closing it up. 

You grasped for the vape hidden in your pocket, depserate for something to take the edge off from the conversation you’d had, the flavoured air providing a temporary comfort. 

You dragged your feet back up the stairs to your bedroom, locking the door behind you and turning off the lights in your room. 

Your room was cold, but you didn’t find yourself minding it. 

You checked your lock for a second time, making sure it was definitely clicked shut before sliding underneath your bed frame and reaching around aimlessly for the container that was wedged into a corner of your mattress. 

It didn’t take long for you to find it, your hand connecting with the rough plastic and pulled at it almost immediately. 

You opened the container, forcing the lid open and picking out the bag that you were searching for. 

Walking across the room in search of a card and flat surface was a mission that didn’t take long, both necessary factors found at your desk. 

You opened up the bag, the answer to all of your feeling and struggles. 

You shook a bit of the powder out of the bag, it was a routine that you’d adapted. 

You’d always had routines, at eight it had been your nighttime routine. Bath, pyjamas, toilet, bed time story, cuddles, trying to get to sleep in your own bed, inevitably sneaking into your moms bed. At 12 it had been your pre match routine, wearing your moms first arsenal jersey to bed the night beforehand, a banana and bottle of water before the game, socks, shinpads, boots and a bottle of lucozade. At 14 it was your pre test routine, cue cards with one of your parents the night beforehand, a 12 hour sleep,  a good luck hug from one of your moms and using your lucky pen. At 17 it was the little kit you kept underneath your bed, open it, find the baggy, spill enough of it onto your desk, push it into a line, take a deep breath through your nose. 

It was a routine that kept you going, one that you clung to like the oxygen you breathed in. 

When your mom tore her acl, your life changed permanently, no longer was any focus on you, it shouldn’t have really been a surprise that you’d fallen into a rougher crowd, that you’d turned to something else to help soothe the pain that had been coursing through your blood stream as everything changed around you. 

It had started with pocketing a couple of your moms post surgery meds, oxy’s, they felt good, they felt so much better than anything else you’d tried to help fix you. But they were in limited amounts and it was hard to steal pills when Lia was monitoring everything that your mom did and took. You’d made friends with the girls in the form above you, and then their friends who were older, and eventually you’d found yourself out at parties on nights when you told your mom that you were spending the night with your mama in Birmingham, it had been eays enough, she was too focused on her knee to pay much mind to what you were doing and who you were doing it with. 

There was enough money lying around the house, it wasn’t hard to find and subsequently it wasn’t hard to find somebody who was willing to give you more than you could find at the parties you where going to. 

It had felt good, like for the first time in a while you had people who you could relate to, who were dealing with the same problems as you, you felt like you’d found a somewhere that felt more like a home than anywhere you’d been before. 

The vapes had been a way to disguise it, to make your mom feel like she could control the bad things that you were getting up to, if she monitored your vape usage then why would you search for anything else? 

Self-soothing. 

You finished your routine by pushing the baggy back into its box and securing the box back into the spot it had come from, making sure that it was hidden from sight, before climbing into your bed and waiting for the proper high to hit you. 

Weed and nicotine were good, it had been where you started out, but nothing hit better than a real high, a real proper feeling that made you feel inundated with complete numbness in the best way possible. It made everything quiet, every doubt and pain in your soul quietened down and it made you feel at peace. 

You supposed it was what made drugs so addictive, specifically meth. They made a person in pain feel normal, it made an angry person feel calm, it made a sad person happier than ever, it made a person searching for everything yearn for nothing. It fixed every problem known to man and every problem man knew. 

When the high hit you felt it across your whole body, your thoughts, pain and the loudness inside of you faded, everything faded, all you felt like was a body, devoid of everything besides the body you were inside of. To you, it was the best feeling in the world, it was a feeling you’d been searching for since you were a kid, when you’d felt so alone and unloved that you would have sold all of your internal organs if it meant that you could have felt the same amount of nothingness that you were in this very moment. 

You would lie awake for hours riding it out, staring up at the ceiling of your room, studying the different ridges and bumps across the white plaster. Once upon a time it had been blue, with white clouds all over it, little stars and rainbows across it, when Jordan had moved out you’d forced your mom to cover it up, it was just another reminder of the love that you’d once found in your house miraculously fading away. 

It normally took a few hours for the initial high to fade, for the endorphins and adrenaline pinging around in your bloodstream to calm down for you to be able to drift off to sleep, you didn’t really mind, you were used to it. Once upon a time it was the same feeling you’d gotten when your moms would smile at you, or when you would step off a football pitch after 90 minutes, or when you’d get a good score from one of your exams. Once upon a time it had all been organic, it had been natural, now it was all forced, a chemical reaction that your brain craved. 

Somewhere around 4am you drifted off, it was convenient because it meant you’d be dead asleep when your mom and Lia left for the training ground, saving you from the interaction with the two of them.

You awoke around 12 o’clock, you dragged yourself downstairs and into the kitchen, enjoying the emptiness that surrounded you. At your mama's house there was Blu, and for some reason it always felt more crammed. At your mom’s house everything was open, quiet, tucked away. It was the way you liked it, plus she was gone more often with media commitments and Arsenal playing in the Champions League, so it meant you were home alone most of the time. 

You chugged your coffee like it was your first drink in days, groaning when your mom’s contact started buzzing up in front of you. 

“Mom?”

You tried your best to sound awake, you don’t think your efforts were very successful. 

“Hey bubba, how’d you sleep?”

You didn’t really think your mom actually cared about how you’d slept, more like it was a conversation buffer. 

“Fine.”

You could hear the sound of your mom’s teammates in the background, a couple of months ago you probably would have been there with her, nowadays there was nothing you wanted less. 

“Good. Look, I talked to Jord this morning, she’s going to come and hang out with you tomorrow until we get back, she should be around in the morning.”

The same anxiety that always seeped through your mom’s voice when she talked about her ex was easy to detect, like she was nervous to utter her name or mention her. 

“Cool.”

You wondered why she hadn’t just left it up to you to organise something with your mama, but you supposed you hadn’t been great at that recently. Jordan’s number was something you had a aversion to. 

“Which means I want you home before 1am, and I want you to be sensible tonight, your mama is very excited to see you tomorrow and I don’t want you being a dickhead or being dead to the world, You’ll be polite and spend time with her, understood?”

She made it sound like an assignment, like you had to be on your very best behaviour, like you had to put on a show for Jordan. 

“Whatever.”

You heard a huff of annoyance from the other side of the phone, it was a sound you’d gotten used to, Leah used it frequently. 

“Don’t whatever me, bubba please, Jords is really looking forward to it, she’s been feeling a bit left out by you recently so please for me, just try your hardest to be good for her. Be safe tonight, I know you and your friends like to have some fun but just stay safe, if you need anything don’t hesitate to send me a text or a call, I love you bubba.”

It felt empty, like your heart, like everything around you, like something she had to say. 

“I love you too mom.”

The call fizzled out and you let a deep breath that you’d been holding in go, you did love your mom, it just didn’t feel like she loved you anymore. 

You went about your day in a haze, your friends were due to come to yours before the party around 5 o’clock, so you had some time to yourself before then, time you were undoubtedly planning to do not a lot with. You tried watching tv, tried organising and cleaning your room, none of it took off the edge, none of it made the world silent like you needed. 

It had all started with parties, a way for you to get out of your comfort zone, a way to make parties a little bit more enjoyable. Now you craved them to make your life more enjoyable, to make it all a little bit more bearable. 

It was all one big routine. 

For a while you throught it was getting better, everything was solving itself. You’d lie awake in your bed at 3am, riding out the last bits of your high and you’d realise that it wasn’t, that there was no solution to solve what had gone wrong with you and made you so fucking unlovebale. 

You knew your existence wasn’t eays, hell Jordan and Leah had adopted you when you were at rock bottom, and they’d still found a way to love you, to make you loveable, but you figured somewhere along the way they’d run out of things about you that were loveable. 

You weren’t normally someone who got high during the day, but you were home alone and figured why not, you’d been taking them at night for months now, what would a day time fix change? Everything felt better when you were riding on a high. 

You spent the rest of your afternoon sat on your window sill, counting the cars as they drove past. When your friends came around at 5 o’clock you were ecstatic, hurrying down the stairs as fast as your woozy body would allow you. 

You had friends that your moms met and friends your moms didn’t, these were the ones you were yet to introduce to Leah. 

You didn’t think that she would approve of the friends that you hung out with when she wasn’t around, especially considering they were quite a bit older than you. 

There were benefits to it, they bought you alcohol they could drive you around, they were smarter then the kids your age. 

Maya, Olivia and Scarlett were nice enough, a little bit stupid but it didn’t bother you too much, you were all like minded, you liked to have fun and party, with the assistance of some recreational substances. 

None of them batted an eye at your clear intoxication, pushing a bottle of something or another into your hands before walking with you up to your room to start getting ready. 

The drink burned as it made it’s way down your throat, it was therapeutic, a reminder that while you felt disconnected from your body because of the drugs, you were still present. 

You let one of the girls do your makeup, packing your face until you looked well over the age of 17, then allowing one of them to sort through your monstrosity of a closet until they found a cute corset top and skirt. Leah Williamson was a lot of things, a fashionista being one of them and that had always carried through to your wardrobe. You were more than equipped with clothing for every occasion known to man. 

By the time you’d downed your first drink of the night the euphoria was starting to hit and you were starting to feel good. 

By the time your second drink had been downed you were being thrown into a car and were on your way to the party, sharing a joint with Liv who was sat in the back seat with you, the two of you occasionally shotgunning the smoke or blowing a puff at eachother. 

It was good, it was relaxing, it was what made you feel at peace.

Pulling up to the party was a whole different kind of feeling. 

You didn’t know who’s party you were at, who’s house, where it was, it didn’t matter to you, not really, all you cared about was having a good time by your standards. 

You flicked your phone onto silent, desperate to avoid any contact from anyone, instead focused on the spectacle around you as you stepped into the threshold. 

Maya introduced you to someone she went to school with, a man that looked like he was nearly as far gone as you felt. You smiled at him, giving him a hug and nod, trying to rush the introduction so you could get a drink in your hand and take a seat. 

“You’re quite cute aren’t ya, how old are you sweetheart?”

You looked across at your friend, curious as to whether you should lie or not, she nodded her head and you took it as approval. 

“17.”

His smile only grew, his head cocking to the side. 

“A youngin? I’m sure we’ll have some fun tonight, the young ones always know how to go harder, whaddya like, sweetheart?”

You tried your best not to appear uncomfortable, even if his attention was putting you off a little bit. 

“She’ll take whatever, although she has been having some fun with ice recently, she likes her vape and some molly sprinkled in with it.”

Matt slapped you on the back, his smile only growing. 

“Definitely a fun time then, I’ll catch up with you later sweetheart, I reckon I have something you might like, head on in guys, I’ll catch you later.”

It wasn’t a big house, it wasn’t small either though, it was full enough that it probably seemed smaller than it truly was. 

There were people everywhere, which surprised you considering it was only early, not that you minded, it was more convenient anyways. 

You were dragged to a couch with your friends, they were less far gone than you and almost immediately were sniffing up lines of whatever was on the coffee table in front of you. 

There was so much happening around you that you struggled to understand it all fully, there were puffs of smoke coming from every direction, needles being handed around, different pills being popped, lines being sniffed. It was the kind of environment you liked to think you’d come to flourish in, it made you feel more relaxed then anywhere else on the planet. 

You relaxed into the couch, enjoying the spectacle around you and subconsciously taking hits of your vape as you watched the splendour occur around you. 

There wasn’t a single legal thing about it, but you didn’t care, there was a cold drink in your hand and the scent of pot and vapour surrounding you, it was the best place to be on the planet. 

The night slowly started to fade into a blip as you made your way through more drinks, your body surrendering to the feeling of the alcohol coursing through you and the high slowly starting to fade. You were cautious of the fact that you needed to be home at a certain time, you didn’t want to push your mom’s wishes, you were also aware that you could manage another shoot up before getting yourself home. 

“Oi, where can I find some meth.”

Maya had headed somewhere with some boy she knew from highschool and Olivia had left in search of a spot to smoke, leaving you and Scarlett. 

“Go find Matt, he’ll hook you up.”

With legs like jelly and a swaying head you stood up from the couch, your vape clutched in one hand and empty bottle in the other. It didn’t take a lot of searching to find the man you’d been introduced to earlier, he was sat on a couch, a girl on either side of him, who both looked about as far gone as they could get without being passed out. 

“Pretty girl, what can I do for you.”

You didn’t like the way the term of endearment slid off of his tongue so easily, in almost a condescending way. 

“Do you have meth?”

You didn’t care if you were being too straight forward, you were itching for something to get you back 0onto the high that you’d been riding out for the past couple of hours. 

“I do, but it’ll cost ya.”

You rolled your eyes, money was hardly a problem for you. 

“I’ve got money.”

His head cocked the same way it had earlier. 

“I don’t want your money sweetheart, c’mon, I’ll get you some meth.”

The same slippery term of endearment that made your throat hurt. He shook the two girls off of him, standing up with a lot more composure than you and beginning to walk out of the lounge room you were in and towards the staircase. You followed him up, holding onto the banister with everything you had and trying to keep up with him as the both of you arrived at the top and he began walking down a corridor, until he made it to the end and opened up a door. 

You assumed it was his bedroom by the looks of it, which made you uncomfortable slightly but you accepted the fact you were craving a fix and he was potentially the only person who could supply it in this moment. 

He rummaged through a bedside draw, until he pulled out a syringe and a bottle of what you assumed to be dissolved crystal meth. You’d always kept your distance from needles, it gave you a better high but it was harder to hide and harder to deal with, the powdered form was the least complicated. 

You could feel your heartbeat pick up as he beckoned you over, patting for you to sit down on the edge of the bed. You walked over, taking a seat on the bed and watching with curiosity as he prepared the needle, and took your arm in his, securing a rubber tourniquet around your bicep and feeling your skin for a vein. Once he found it he picked the needle up, filling it with a couple of mls of the liquid before bringing it up to your arm, gently inserting it into the vein, sucking in a bit of your blod and watching the red swirl with the drug mix before pushing down on the syringe and inserting it into your blood stream. 

It was immediate validation, your head dropping back with ecstasy as the drugs infiltrated your body. 

“Feels good doesn’t it, sweetheart.”

You nodded your head, enjoying the sensation of the lingering sting as the needle was pulled from your arm and the tourniquet was untied. 

His hands were on your chin, tilting your head up so you were looking at him. 

“Now, I think it’s time I get my payment, hmm?”

You took one last breath, enjoying the validation of your high. 

“I told you I have money.”

He shook his head and with the smirk on the corner of his lips you couldn’t help but feel slightly worried. 

“No, I prefer my payment other ways.”

Even with the alcohol and drugs running through your veins, you couldn’t help but feel sick to your stomach immediately. 

You were suddenly frighteningly aware of your position, and undeniably feeling a little bit scared. 

“What way?”

You didn’t like how your voice wavered, your age becoming more obvious as you struggled to stomach the different thoughts going through your head. 

“I’ll show you.”

His hands moved to your hair, dragging you off the corner of the mattress and onto your knees below him. 

You tried to dissasociate it, tried to dissasociate as his hands fell to his belt buckle and fly, tried to disassociate so you didn’t have to think about the million no’s that were banging against your skull and leaving your lips as his fly came undone and he let his pants drop to his feet. 

You’d never really expressed your sexuality, you hadn’;t felt the need t, both of your moms were gay, so were most of their friends, you knew no matter who you were dating they’d be happy for you, you knew that whatever this was though you didn’t want it. 

With your weary head and drugged up body there wasn’t much fight you could put up as he opened your jaw for you and forced his way inside of you 

You tried your hardest to dissasociate like you’d taught yourself, thinking about the high, thinking about the drugs, thinking about your moms, thinking about everything in your life that had once loved you and you’d once loved the same. Normally it worked, normally you trustd yourself to get you to that safe space that made you feel like no matter what was happening you could deal with it, you just couldn’t get it to work though, there were tears streaming down your face as his hands stayed planted in the roots of your hair, the hair a couple of hours ago that your friends had been curling and working on whilst you’d all be laughing. 

He didn’t last long, that was something you were grateful for. 

As soon as his hands left your hair you were bolting up from the floor, walking as past as your weary legs would let you before anything else happened that you couldn’t stop. 

You catapulted your way down the same stairs you’d marched up happily, not paying any attention to the people in the background as you pushed your way out of the front door, breathing in the freezing london air and clinging to the freshness of it and how it cooled the pain in your throat. 

You didn’t hesitate calling the uber, the tears on your face spraying down onto your phone screen as you tried your hardest to focus on the task at hand which was getting home and getting as far away from this as possible. 

You didn’t care that your mom could track your uber account, you didn’t care that there were thirty unread texts from both of your moms and a couple of phone calls, all you cared about was getting home to your bed and doing whatever it took to forget about what just happened. 

The uber was quick enough, you practically threw yourself into the back seat, trying to calm yourself down, but failing miserably. 

If your uber driver noticed then he didn’t comment on the fact that you were practically hyperventilating in his backseat. 

The car ride home was quicker then you thought it would be, you were so grateful it was an away game night, that you didn’t have to deal with anyone, but you were also secretly crumbling about the fact that you were all alone, that you had been all alone in that room with him, that you had no one to stop him and couldn’t do anything about it. 

You were hardly steady on your legs as you unlocked the door with your keys and swayed your way into the living room and then towards the stairs, finding the incline slightly jarring but desperate to get to your room and bed so you could sleep of the horrendous feeling in your gut. High be damned, alcohol be damned, all you wanted was to be asleep, so you partially forget about all of this and hopefully it would fall victim to all of the endorphins in your head and be permanently removed from your brain. 

Your room was cold, your window still open, you didn’t care. 

All you cared was getting out of the too tight clothes you were in and getting into your bed. 

You pulled at the corset, unbothered when you heard the seam ripping as you tugged at it, your skirt was easier. You flung a hoodie and pair of pyjama pants onto your body before climbing straight under your covers, your body shaking. You weren’t sure whether it was because of the high or because of the incessant hatred that had grown in your chest at the memory replaying over and over in your mind. 

You clutched onto your vape, holding it in your hand and sucking up hit after hit as you tried to find solace in the flavoured air, hoping it would send you off to sleep. 

You woke up with a headache like no other, your whole body hurt, and to the sound of repetitive banging at the front door downstairs. 

You groaned out, annoyed at every single part of you for what had happened last night. 

Your legs were still wobbly as you clawed your way out of your bed, your legs protesting with every single step you took, out of your room, down the stairs, to the peephole at your door. 

Jordan, fuck. 

You supposed in your haze it hadn’t been hard to forget about your mother’s appearance for today, you’d been trying desperately to forget so many other things that it must have slipped your mind. 

You didn’t want to open the door, but you also knew you had to, so with every last piece of strength that you had in your body, you pulled the door open.

[maskofmilves]

The Substance Masterlist

Elisabeth Sparkle

coming soon

Sue

Control Yourself

Elisabeth Sparkle x Sue

Beloved

[thevirginslvt]

most personal drawing so far awroo i was blushing and giggling the whole time

full version:

[jordinax]

“do you have any real hobbies??”

reading about wnba athletes fucking me stupid IS a real hobby.

[ylangelegy]

@lastgameforS: 241016 #에스쿱스 #SCOUPS Team Korea ❤️🔫

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol who, unlike the other athletes in his category, didn't start at a young age. it was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing, how he'd played with his old roommate's cheap pistol and at-home range only to find out hey, i'm pretty good at this.

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol who caught the attention of an international coach, enough for the shooting club to sponsor him his first match gun. he goes with the flow, just kind of happy to be there, until they ask him to give the olympic trials a shot.

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol who qualifies because he's the young, scrappy, and hungry type. itching to prove himself, fearless in the face of the big guns (both literal and figurative).

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol who refuses to put all of his eggs in one basket. he knows that being an olympian can't, shouldn't be everything, so he treats it more like a part-time job. outside of the sport, he works a regular nine-to-five. some business-adjacent occupation.

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol who, when you first meet him, isn't wearing shooting jackets, or gloves, or high-tech glasses. you meet him as the seungcheol who codes excel sheets and grabs a beer or two with workmates after your bi-weekly salary comes in.

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol is so cool about this little double life he leads. when he introduces to you the part of him that's a marksman, you can see the slightly cocky arch of his eyebrow, the amused upturn of his lip. that look on his face that very clearly says bet you didn't expect that, did you?

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol is the picture of calmness on the day of the competition. he's unruffled about being a rookie; unafraid of his much more experienced competition. he'll look at you and smirk, tell you, "can i get a kiss when i hit bullseye?" (not if, but when.)

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol gets his bullseye. he's brutally precise, after all, and he looks like he hasn't even broken a sweat. he looks like he belongs up there, with the veteran american shooters and the elite chinese marksmen.

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol doesn't clinch gold, though, because there are still dozens of people with worlds of experience over him. still, he ranks well enough to be put on peoples' radar. for sportscasters to start saying choi seungcheol from south korea is someone to look out for.

olympic sharpshooter!seungcheol doesn't feel the loss as badly as he thought he would. he got his bullseye, and as he leans over the railing behind him, over the bleachers— as his smirking mouth meets yours, as promised— he also gets his kiss. he'll have another olympics next year, but a first kiss with you? a once-in-a-lifetime thing, arguably better than any medal in the world.

[cyath]

Never drawing this bitch ass or his complicated clothes EVER AGAIN