#sweet jesus its a question

[mobilesuitzetagundam]

Do you like the band steely dan. Respond NOW

Steely Dan fucks real hard ngl

[kalivodas]

JOHN PRICE I'm so in love. I saw a post with the headcanon how he gets a boner in situations that aren't sexual but sweet. Like whenever they talk about marriage or moving in together or something like that. I just thought that such a cute thought.

awww i blush me + that old man 4ever 💋

YOU AND JOHN Price were standing in the middle of some bustling department store. Walls lined with home decor, faint promises to the future that swelled around you.

John was pressed right to your backside, eyes roaming the bath section curiously, and your mouth parted as you realized a part of him swelled, too.

“John,” you cough out. “Are you hard looking at towels?”

He blinks down at you, head shaking in an accusatory way. “No. Why’d you ask that?”

“I can feel it.”

A taut grin splits his face before he can stop it. “Maybe a bit.”

You go to step away from him, chide him a bit, but his palms find your hips, and he tightens a vice at the fat there. “Don’t move,” he grits. “Please.”

“Fine,” you huff, a snort of insolence passing your lips as you bent down, grabbed a set of black towels, and rocked on your feet to push back into his hips. It sounded like he barked, and he smooths it away with a cough.

“Give you an inch and you take a mile, don’t you, lovie?”

You smile, a juvenile sort of thing painting your face as you toss him the stack of cloth to cover himself while the two of you strolled the aisles.

“Why’d you get hard anyway?” you question. Your gaze zeros in on the candle section before you dart off in that direction.

John’s shoulders shrug as you bring a butterscotch and brandy three wick to his nose. It crinkles. “Too much butter. And I’m not sure.” His tongue should’ve burned in dishonesty.

“You’re a horrible liar, John.” You try a Tahitian coconut next. He hums, so you tuck it between your arms, and glance down each of the end caps of the aisles. The coast was beautifully clear.

Your hand glides down to the underneath of his buckle before you smile. “Jesus, honey, you been popping viagra every time I turn around?”

He chuckles at you, hips pushing into your palm. “No, I just enjoy this. These things—“ he clears his throat. “I want to marry you.”

The palm that teased him changes its course, pinches his cheek instead. “You should. We’d make beautiful, fat babies.”

You hear him sputter on air behind you.

a / n the aftermath

[exweirdkid]

too sweet 𐙚 abby anderson

a/n: smut!! fingering & oral (r|receiving), implied strap usage // men & minors dni!

imagine being a fem little girlblogger in all of your free time. always at the library, or a local coffee shop, leeching off of the free wifi just to make girly posts on tumblr. the pretty blonde barista stands nervously behind the counter, glancing up at you every now and then.

abby writes her number on your cup that day, and keeps her phone within earshot so she can be the first to hear the beautiful ding of your phone texting hers.

you talk, and talk, and talk, and eventually you're texting so much you don't have any time for your girlblog. you know how much you love being girly and creative and how easy it is to do it online, so you offer to stop by the cafe so when abby clocks out you can leave together.

something about being so feminine around such a boulder of a woman makes you clench around nothing all night, until abby finally clocks out.

on the drive to her little apartment, you can't help but rub your thighs together, trying not to alert abby to the growing wet spot in your panties. you chew on your lip, hoping for a moment of peace as abby pulls into her parking spot.

if abby noticed, she never gave you any indication of it.

inside, abby presses a heavy kiss on your lips before she changes and settles into the couch. you feel the throbbing in your cunt grow heavier, louder, as she casually spreads out on the couch.

"coming?" she asks, and you can't help inwardly shrink at the double entendre.

there is a lazy, bored smirk pulling at her lips as you sit beside her, clearly worked up and just begging for relief.

"what's on your mind?" she questions, as if unaware of the flush of your cheeks and the heat radiating from you. she flicks through netflix boringly.

you shrug, words failing as that incessant clench of your cunt around nothing nearly chokes you. you manage to whisper, "just thinking."

"about?"

the glint in her eyes sparks something deep within you—in a place only she's ever touched. no way were you going to let her win this easy.

"i haven't blogged a lot recently, i might have to stop at the cafe tomorrow, too."

"are you sure its for the blog?" she raises a brow. "i think i saw your eyes on me more than your computer screen."

"so why don't you do something about it, anderson?"

"cause i think i want to hear you say it first." she drops one of her hands to your thighs. she grasps a handful of the flesh and squeezes it before smoothing your skin flat

"i-" she squeezes your thigh again, tight, before her fingers drift higher. you swallow hard.

she drops her head so that her lips are right by your ear. "if you say it i'll fuck you right here."

"i want you to. please." you sound desperate as you finally answer.

"want me to what?" the tips of her fingers ghost along the apex of your thighs. your throat tightens.

you inhale sharply as she puts pressure right above your clit. she removes it as soon as a wave of pleasure fills your belly. "jesus, abby. i want you to fuck me."

her lips ghost your earlobe before she begins placing soft kisses along the side of your face, your cheek, your lips, your neck. as she trails lower, she slides further down the couch. your breath catches in your throat as she presses your back against the arm of the couch.

"that's all you had to say, baby. wasn't that hard, right?"

you shake your head desperately, shimmying your pants to your ankles as she settles her thick hands on your thighs. you nearly choke at the sight of abby already splitting you open just by being in between your legs.

she squeezes your thigh in reassurance before her tongue ghosts your panty-covered core. you whine. it's so good, but nowhere near enough for you. she kitten licks your cunt once more before she flattens her tongue against you. her hands hook under your ass, thumbs pressing your inner thighs away from your heat.

with one finger, she pulls your ruined panties to the side, almost marveling at the sight of you dripping before her.

she wastes no time before diving in, tongue exploring and caressing every fold and crevice of your hot mound. you can't help but whine and moan, can't hold it in anymore. you've been pent up all day, you and abby know it isn't going to be much more before your first orgasm.

she pulls your hips impossibly closer to her face just as she dips her tongue into your dripping hole. a heavy moan rips through you as she works the thick muscle in and out again. her nose rubs up against your clit so perfectly you thread your fingers through her hair.

she groans as you tug her hair, the sound reverberating through your cunt. you moan again, bucking your hips against her.

when she removes her tongue from you, you feel the pad of her middle finger press against your warmth. she circles your clit with her tongue as she slides her finger in.

she works it in slowly as you tug harder at her hair. she lets you grind into her face, whimpering and whining for the release you've wanted all day.

"such a good girl waiting for me, asking me so nicely." abby mutters, hardly able to take her mouth off your pussy long enough to get the sentence out.

you moan sharply as she presses another finger into you. "please, abby—" she works the two in and out of you, feeling your walls clench tight on her.

"so fucking wet for me."

you can't find it in you to but do anything but sob as she sucks on your clit and curls her fingers deep in you. you are so, so close. you could see stars behind your eyes and feel the heat of your climax as she pounds into your sensitive spot.

"my pretty girl." and you nearly break.

you come with a shout, abby's hand never stopping, her tongue still on your clit. you buck your hips against her and ride out every delicious wave of pleasure that hits you until you ache and have to wrap your hand around abby's to get her to stop pounding into you.

"so fucking pretty, baby." abby leaves sloppy kisses against your thighs, cleaning your release with her tongue before catching you in a soft kiss, still tasting of you. "c'mon, open up, pretty."

her wet fingers press against your lips and you open your mouth for her, letting her slip her fingers inside. you lick yourself off her fingers, savoring the weight of her on your tongue, the taste of you.

as she leans forward and presses her covered cunt against yours, you feel a bulge tickle your clit.

"are you thinking what i'm thinking?" she asks teasingly, pulling her fingers from your mouth.

[haechansdoll]

so perfect, i can't stop - ml x reader

Pairing : Lee Mark x f!Reader

Description : Mark is too horny, and he uses you non stop

Warnings : sex,sex and sex.

“you’re gonna lose it as soon as I put my cock in your pussy” Mark sneers, gripping the plush of your thighs and scooting you closer to his stiff, bare cock. your hands find homage on his shoulders, as he grabs a handful of your ass lifting you on his length. he doesn’t realize the heat cascading from your cunt, your folds brushing across his cockhead, “fuck.” He whispers. His fingers bleed into your thighs, eager hips bouncing subconsciously on his cock—sliding down till your flush against his lap. “jesus fucking christ angel.. didn’t know you were such an eager little thing.” You blush, and he smirks.

 “Don’t be shy.” He says, tilting your chin up as he bottoms out releasing a sultry moan, “you been hiding this perfect pussy from me this whole time? fuck.”

He wishes he could just keep you still, allow his cock to immerse in your sweet juices, tight velvet walls milking him dry, caresses your skin with his tongue—keep his fingers dancing on the skin but Mark just can’t do that. he has to feel more—his hips bucking up, cock curving against your spongy spot and you’re unraveling, whimpering when he takes the plunge and rams his cock harder upwards inside you. “want me to fill this pussy up, huh? feel my cum in your tummy for fucking days?”

Mark’s eyes grow dark, dropping the facade of pussy drunk and fully feral, leaning down to sink his teeth into your neck and slamming a hand down to move your hips harder on him, “never gonna fuck you with anything else but my raw cock princess, fuckin’ perfect for me.” you whine and moan against him, barely containing yourself.

“M-Mark—slow down” your whimpers left dull on his ear, mark raises his level of vision back to your disheveled face. “c-can’t help it angel—pussy so fuckin’ good” he throws his head back, his usually brown orbs clouded into a pitch black haze. He’s struggling—hips so sloppily drilling into your cunt. he’s thinking of the aftermath, your hole spilling out his cum and the wetness—how fucking wet and warm your hole will be when he pumps load after load inside you.

“fuck!” your ears vibrate against the shrill moan he echoes through the room, Mark drags his body back down mindlessly pounding into you. a high—the ecstasy laced bliss induced from his raw—untouched cock dragging against your velvet walls. and the tightness—have you always been this tight? he can’t stop thinking of those fucking thoughts. How much cum could you really take though? would Mark have to push it back in or just pump another load? The questions pile up while Mark feels your pussy clench around him and that’s where everything goes numb. A shiver that starts at the back of his neck, crawling its way to his cock and he finally—fills your cunt to the brim, gasping when he’s quick to pull out. He’s mesmerized by his seed oozing out of your messy hole and Mark is already pushing his cum right back in with his cock because what’s a better way to make it stick then with another pretty white load?

Mark inhales a long drawn out breath, steadily hoisting you over his cock for the second time that night. He flickers his eyes to you before casting his gaze back down—he wants to watch his bare cock disappear inside your pussy, something that he will never grow old of. “s-shit” he groans, brows furrowed while you sink down completely, pink dusts his cheeks and his body falls limb under you. he’s’ mortified how much his cock is twitching, swelling at the head while he just basks in the feeling. Once a sign of nerves coats his arm, he immediately throws it over his face gasping when you start to bounce on his cock.

Mark can’t look at you right now, it’d be too much. ..one thing is going raw —but your slick guiding his cock inside your spongy walls but it’s another just to see you. your fingers gripping against your mounds, hips faultlessly moving to a sedate pace while your slick paints his thighs. Marks eyes knock white under his arm, slinging the limb aside to cast it on your hip, “god your pussy is so fucking good” Mark stutters, dragging your cunt on his length. he almost looks disoriented—the way his face has grown a sheen sheet of sweat, cheeks bright pink and his lips—so pretty and glossy, puffy and small gusts of air excluding from it. “don’t stop please, fuck!” Mark screws his eyes shut, he’ll relish this feeling in his mind—carelessly bouncing you on his cock, and even if he came, he won’t stop—even if his cock is spent, tip so sensitive and aching for a break, he cannot simply stop.—not when it feels this fucking good.

Mark feels like he can’t breathe, lungs persuading blue as he continues to slam his cock in your hole, head tipping over and crashing into your neck but you only let out a whimper. “p-princess” he mumbles in your skin, shakily gripping your thighs and spreading them apart, “i think im gonna cum” you feel him shake as he spills inside of you. Deep groans coating your neck, the mess accumulating on your thighs, you can call out his name but he won’t answer—almost like he’s mute, mouth filled with gasps and gurgles and his cock—swelling and dragging along your walls. he knows it’s not enough—just one more time. He thinks. He needs more reeling his hips back to push the cum deeper and deeper. “s-so good for me—fuck—pussy made for me” Mark is barely moving, hips shifting on their own as he continues pulling airy moans to the surface. struggling to hold on to your body while he dives headfirst into another high, senses overcome by pure desire—he’s chasing another tranquil abyss. knees digging into the sheets below you, arms wrapped around your body and his face pressed firmly against the crevice of your neck. He can’t go back now.

[appocalipse]

doomed plans : ̗̀➛ eddie munson

you and your ex, eddie, are trying to be "just friends". it's harder than you thought it would be. | exes to lovers, suggestive but no smut, 2.2k words

"Fancy seeing you here."

His tone is jocular, but the comment is more of an understated question than a simple greeting. There's no mistaking it—he's pleasantly surprised to see you here at this party.

He looks good.

Eddie Munson looks really good.

Or maybe it's just that being around him makes you feel good, after too many weeks of forcing yourself not to miss him. "Fancy seeing you, too," you respond. "Funny how Nance forgot to mention you'd be here."

A playful glint lights up his eyes as he sidles closer, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth—and the expression is so familiar that your heart leaps before you can think to tamp it down.

"Ah, well, I have a theory about that, actually."

"Do you?"

He gives an energetic nod. You're still trying to muster a casual air, despite the surge of...whatever the hell this is that's hitting you right now; a rush of emotion that's just different enough from mere nostalgia to be unsettling in its intensity.

"I do," he says with another nod, this one emphatic. His smile broadens as he peers down at you.

Oh, Jesus Christ. His grin. The warmth of it. The conspiratorial joy in it.

"Wheeler's too nice for her own good," he informs you. "She didn't want to mention me because she knew you'd bail."

"Why would I bail if you were coming?"

"Because of... you know." He reaches out and taps your hand—just a quick gesture, not lingering, but you feel the feather-light touch of his fingertip like an electric shock that ricochets up your arm. "The unresolved sexual tension and everything."

"What?"

"What what?" he echoes innocently, batting his eyelashes at you with exaggerated sweetness. Eddie loves this game, and he plays it well, even now. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You and me."

"You and me?"

"Me and you," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets and bouncing on the balls of his feet like an eager child on Christmas morning. The taunting tone is still there, but so is something else that makes your breath catch in your throat. "Done with that yet?"

"With what?"

"Whatever it is that's keeping us apart," he says airily, and then frowns as he eyes you again. "Which, come to think of it, I don't actually know. So, hey, let's talk about that."

"Eds," you begin, then catch yourself as his face lights up at the nickname, "Don't look at me like that. We agreed."

"We did?" He tilts his head and gives you a quizzical stare. "I don't remember that."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

You just give him a pointed look.

"Come on, Y/N." His tone softens, turns low and quiet and more serious than you're expecting. "I miss you. Do you miss me?"

He's staring at you so intently that you can't bring yourself to lie. You grab your drink and take a quick sip, to stall for time, because the real answer to his question is complicated.

The beer goes down too fast. "Eddie."

"What?" He sounds innocent, but he isn't fooling you for one second.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"You know like what," you retort, trying to pretend that your pulse isn't pounding in your ears right now. "You're playing with me."

"Do you want to be played with?" he asks, dark eyes glinting again.

The playful remark makes your skin tingle with a heat that's all too familiar. It's not just the words, either. It's the way Eddie is watching you, the slight smirk curving his lips, the flirtatious shift in his posture as he leans into your personal space again, intentionally crowding you this time.

There's an answering heat in your face now, a flush spreading across your skin.

Fuck.

"You have no idea what I want," you retort, deciding that it's best to keep this exchange lighthearted.

"Bullshit," he replies. "I have a very good idea of what you want."

Eddie looks entirely too pleased with himself right now. You reach out and poke him in the chest. "And what is it that I want?"

He doesn't back away from the touch. Instead, he reaches out and pokes you back, touching your shoulder with gentle insistence as he inches even closer, until your face is just inches from his. "You want this," he says softly, gaze darting to your mouth and then back up again.

Oh.

"Don't," you say.

It's a halfhearted protest at best, though. And when Eddie raises an eyebrow, you shake your head with an exasperated sigh. You're well aware that you don't sound convincing at all. This conversation has spun wildly out of control in the space of seconds.

"Don't?" He parrots the word back to you in an incredulous tone, then pulls his lower lip between his teeth, watching you closely as he lets it slide back out from under his bite again, plump and pink and glistening in the low light. "I'm not doing anything."

Back up, you think. Move away. You shouldn't be standing so close.

You find yourself staring at Eddie's mouth for a beat too long before you look back up into his eyes. You smile. "You're going to get me all confused again."

"Good." He leans forward until your foreheads are nearly touching. "If I do it right, you'll start forgetting all those reasons you were using to convince yourself we should stay broken up."

You laugh as you shove him back a step, shaking your head. "See? There you go again."

He holds his hands up in front of himself, grinning widely as he speaks. "Look, all I'm saying is, sometimes you get all twisted up in your head about things. But, other times... well, you listen to your heart instead. You just need a little reminder that the heart is usually right."

"Oh, really?" You take another sip of beer. Tastes terrible. You wish it would at least do more to quell the butterflies suddenly fluttering in your stomach. "And who told you that?"

"Said so yourself, last summer." He stares at you with a wistful expression. "Remember? The lake. Sunset. I'd like to think you remember that day."

"Eds," you warn.

"And the night after that," he continues, his gaze turning molten now as he reaches out to smooth a stray lock of hair away from your face. "I remember every detail, I can refresh your memory if you want."

It's been too long since anyone has touched you like this, and your heart leaps as his fingertips brush your cheek. It's just an instant, gone in the blink of an eye. Still...

You really are touch-starved, though, if just the whisper of Eddie's hand against your face is enough to make you want to lean into his palm. "So, what are you suggesting?"

"Well..." His mouth twitches. "Are you going to kiss me, or should I kiss you?"

"Neither." You step back and take a sip of beer. Nope. Still terrible. "I, uh, gotta get some...air. Or something."

"Air, or something?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you mutter, setting the plastic cup down on the nearest available surface, which turns out to be a table stacked with pizza boxes. Your fingers find the wooden edge and you cling, leaning your weight into it. "Look, you need to stop doing that thing."

Eddie is watching you like a cat about to pounce on its prey. "What thing?"

"You know, the thing. The thing you do. It's very... persuasive. Very convincing." You fold your arms over your chest, because the safest course of action right now is clearly not letting him get close enough to touch you again. "And it's also not fair, because we agreed."

Eddie puts his hands on his hips and tips his head back, letting out an exasperated huff. "No, you agreed. I didn't agree to anything."

"Oh, c'mon. You did. And you know you did. We both did. It was mutual."

"Uh-huh." He makes a sound of amusement as he steps closer again. "Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?"

"I just—"

He reaches up, grips your chin with gentle insistence, and tilts your face up until your eyes meet. The world narrows until there's nothing but Eddie, who's looking at you with the same sweetly teasing expression he used to wear when he would lean over and whisper stupid jokes in your ear during class, back when you were still tentatively learning how to navigate each other, still in the shy, testing stages of that first year.

Except now, he doesn't look away as soon as you glance at him.

Now, he holds your gaze.

Now, his thumb traces your jawline.

Now, he gives you a moment to consider, before he leans in closer and presses his lips against yours.

It's not a kiss, really. Not quite. Just the suggestion of a kiss, a faint brush of his mouth against yours, a fleeting warmth that lingers for the space of a breath or two, there and then gone again.

You blink up at him, startled by the rush of heat that sweeps through you as his fingers linger on your skin. "Eddie—"

The next kiss is softer, slower, firmer. The gentle, searching pressure of Eddie's mouth on yours, unhurried and deliberate and sure, tugs at a piece of your heart that you thought was already mended, but he coaxes it into breaking open all over again.

"We...we..." You gasp, trying to remember why this is a bad idea. But the rational part of your brain is gone, shut off entirely by the little hum of contentment Eddie makes as he shifts his lips against yours. 

"We what?" His words are murmured against your lips.

Your mouth still feels like it's tingling from his kiss. You lean forward, swaying into him without realizing it. "We shouldn't—"

Another kiss. You let your eyes flutter closed, and Eddie nudges you backward until your shoulders hit the wall. 

His hands slide into your hair, fingers brushing through the strands, tilting your head back. You know you should stop him, but instead, you pull him closer, chasing the kiss when he breaks away, and, oh... his mouth is back on yours again, still slow, still soft, still measured. Not enough.

He is chuckling when he pulls back, the sound so quiet that you feel it more than hear it.

You think, This isn't fair. You shouldn't be able to do this to me. Not anymore.

The whole point of breaking up was so you could get over each other. This, right here? It is not helpful.

"Why, uh..." He clears his throat and trails off. When you open your eyes, you see him smiling down at you, flushed and disheveled, with a smudge of your lipstick on his mouth. "You've gotten really good at that."

Your hand goes up to his lips, finger swiping over the mark left behind by your lipstick. "So...you're saying I wasn't any good at this before, huh?"

Eddie bites his lower lip, his gaze darting to your mouth before sliding back up to meet your eyes again. "I'm saying we could've been doing this the whole time."

"We should stop, before...before...you know."

His nose nudges yours, a touch so fleeting it makes you want to tilt your face up to chase after it, but you stop yourself, because if you keep kissing him, you won't be able to bring yourself to stop. And that would be...bad. Definitely bad. You just can't remember exactly why right now.

"Before what?" Eddie asks in a low voice.

Your mouth, lips still warm from his, curves into a reluctant smile. "Eddie."

He's a breath away. "What, sweetheart?"

Oh, oh. You're in trouble. 

"You gotta stop kissing me," you say, as your fingers trail down his chest. He's so solid, warm under your touch. Your hands settle on his waist, and you grip the worn denim of his jeans to tug him closer even as you keep talking, trying to remember why you even wanted this breakup in the first place. "I'm, uh, working on getting over you."

"How's that going, by the way?"

"Terrible."

Eddie just laughs. "It is, huh?"

"Yeah, it is," you say. "But, see, I have a plan, and your kissing is messing up my plan. And my plan is a good one. So, don't mess it up. Please."

Eddie watches you, that fond, slightly smug smile on his lips again. He takes one of your hands in his and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, mouth lingering, his breath warm, eyes still on yours. "Tell me about this plan, then."

You make an indignant sound and try to tug your hand away. "It involves trying to spend less time with you, Eds. Like, you know, avoiding parties at friend's houses and all that. Gotta avoid those kinds of situations."

He presses his forehead against yours, and you sigh, leaning into the touch. "Why, exactly?"

"Because it's too... it's just too hard. It's really hard."

"I'll give you something hard, if you want," he says, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

You can't help but laugh. "You are the worst."

But maybe that's exactly what you need.

Well...that plan was doomed from the start anyway.

[chvoswxtch]

revelation

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: billy's questioning leads to more than one epiphany you weren't ready for.

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, lots of angst, billy being the shithead he is

word count: 4.2k

a/n: I know y'all were big mad at me last update. I don't know if this one makes up for it or not. but...enjoy. :) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [ next chapter] | [series masterlist]

Flickers of flesh colored light began to flash in your brain. It was as if each of your senses were rebooting one by one, your body slowly clawing its way out of the darkened abyss you’d been lost in. Murmurs of conversation and clinks of metal crept into your eardrums. While that sickly sweet artificial chemical taste lingered on your tongue, a dull throbbing was emanating from the back of your head. Trying to inhale a deep breath, a familiar strong cologne seemed to flip the switch of consciousness. 

“Ah, there she is.”

As your eyes fluttered open, you fought through the haze of disorientation, forcing your vision to clear. A blur of green approached slowly, and after blinking a few times, the fuzzy silhouette came into focus. Billy knelt down in front of you, a serpentine smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. 

Your bones felt like they were made of stone, but when you tried to move, you realized it wasn’t just a mental restriction, but also a physical one. Glancing downwards, you saw that your wrists and legs had been bound to the chair you were in with black leather straps. White hot rage struck through your nervous system like a bolt of lightning. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“You tell me.”

“I'm the one tied to a chair here, asshole.”

Billy let out an amused chuckle at your sharp snap, his dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Just a precaution, darlin’. I've seen you in action, and I like my face the way it is.”

Narrowing your eyes in resentment, your lips were set in a tight line as you clenched your jaw while simultaneously clenching your fists. Billy’s eyes flickered down to your hands before returning to your heated glare, and he let out a deep exhale through his nose. Standing up fully, he grabbed a wooden crate to his left and dragged it over towards you. After sitting down on the edge of it and folding his arms over his chest, he gave a faint nod of his head in your direction.

“I need to know what you know.”

“About what?”

“Frank and Madani.”

Pure annoyance laced with confusion quickly creased between your brows, and your exasperation was evident in your tone.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Billy. That’s what this is about? I told you I don't know anything. Okay, whatever you and Madani have Frank working on-”

Billy suddenly cut you off, snapping his fingers before pointing his index finger in your direction.

“Ah, see, that right there. Madani and I don't work together. We never have. Anvil has a contract with Homeland, but my business is with them, not her.”

Billy paused for a moment, letting those words linger in the air. He searched your face for any flicker of recognition that would give you away, but all he could see in your expression was perplexity. And that you were royally pissed off. Either you had one hell of a poker face, or you truly didn’t know anything. He was determined to find out.

“And I haven't assigned anything to Frank in almost two months, because he told me he needed some personal time to take care of somethin’. So imagine my surprise when you tell me that he’s got some business goin’ on with me and Madani.”

Every word that left Billy’s lips left you feeling confused. It was like he was single handedly ripping up the pieces of what you thought you knew regarding this entire situation with Frank. The ferocity of your anger dulled slightly, becoming overshadowed by disillusionment. 

“I…I don't understand.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

In an instant, your brain began to replay every single conversation with Frank over the last two months, trying to figure out what you were missing. You could feel in your gut that the answer was right in front of your face, but you were struggling to figure it out, and it left you feeling immensely frustrated. Dropping your gaze to the concrete floor beneath your feet, your eyes darted back and forth, like you were reading some invisible text written in the cracks.

I’m helpin’ Madani with somethin’. 

It’s personal.

Those were the key phrases that kept popping up in your head. They were the ones sticking out from the rest, and your foggy brain was relentlessly trying to figure out why. Closing your eyes, you tried to shift your mindset. You had to treat this like a story. You had to walk through what you knew, sort through the pieces Frank had given you, and connect the red string on the mental evidence board in your brain.

Thinking back to the conversation where you’d confronted Frank at his apartment about his strange behavior, you willed your brain to focus on what he’d said, and how he said it.

“He…he said he had a new assignment.”

Billy had been watching you closely, paying attention to the flash of varying emotions crossing your face. He could see that you were trying to figure something out in your head, and your words made him sit up straighter. 

“What did he say the assignment was?”

You remembered Frank looking remorseful as he sat on his couch, trying to explain the situation, but he had also looked…guarded. He didn’t maintain eye contact with you the entire time, which was strange, and when he did look at you, there had been something in his eyes besides guilt. It was a flicker of something you couldn’t decipher, because he was hiding it from you. Whatever it was, he didn’t want you to see it.

“He didn’t. He just said it was personal. He wouldn’t tell me anything about it.”

“What did he tell you?”

That feeling of frustration you’d felt during that initial conversation bubbled up once again, and you let out an irritated exhale through your nose as you opened your eyes and tilted your head back to look upwards. Wherever Billy had you, it appeared to be underground. There weren’t any windows, and the fluorescent overhead lights were harsh, aggravating your sensitive eyes. You swiftly shut them again to block out the light, trying hard to conjure that memory of Frank once more.

But all you could see was your mother. The unpleasant glare above brought you back to a sterile hospital room, and instead of Frank’s deep voice, you heard the daunting beeping on the machines that had controlled her fate with their wires, and the struggle of her labored breathing. Her body had turned against her, stolen her time, but it hadn’t been able to take her feisty spirit. 

Clenching your fists, you tried desperately to escape the memory, but your mother had always been as stubborn as you were. The phantom feeling of the chilled flesh that barely covered the bones of her hand touching your skin felt so real and vivid, you didn’t know if Billy had knocked you out again or not.

Her familiar voice from one of her last good moments, exhausted with illness, but still melodic with whimsy, played in your ears.

“Can you force the tide to come back to the shore?”

A furrow of confusion had settled between your brows at her interjection, and you’d refocused your attention from the book in your hands towards her.

“Did they up your meds?”

“Ha ha ha, smartass.”

Setting down the book you’d been reading her, you smiled at ever present sarcasm, and you’d rolled your eyes playfully.

“No mom, I can’t force the tide to come back to the shore.”

“And why is that?”

There had been a glimmer of playfulness in her eyes, even though they were slightly sunken in and surrounded by dark circles. You had resisted the urge to answer literally about gravity and the moon, and instead let her continue with whatever point she was trying to make.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

She’d reached out and placed her hand on top of yours, and her skin had been so cool to the touch, felt so fragile, it had made your heart constrict in your chest.

“Because it comes on its own. You just have to be patient, and let it come to you.”

Patience had never been your strong suit, especially when it came to putting things together, or trying to figure something out. If something didn’t click fast enough, you would get frustrated and try to coerce it, to make it make sense, which usually never worked in your favor. It wasn’t until you stopped trying so hard and took a step back that you had your biggest breakthroughs. Clearly, it was a lesson you were still trying to learn.

“Y/N. What did Frank say-”

“Can you shut the hell up? I’m trying to think.”

Billy narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips when you snapped at him through your gritted teeth, but he obliged. Letting out a quiet shaky breath, you resisted the urge to give into the emotions building up behind your eyelids from that memory. You slowly unclenched your fists and relaxed your jaw. 

Quit trying to force fragments together. Focus. Let it come to you.

Instead of rushing through the memories and waiting for the answers to pop out, you replayed them slowly, carefully analyzing over every frame, dissecting every word. Frank had been very cautious with his phrasing, but that wasn’t a coincidence. 

I’m helpin’ Madani with somethin’. 

Madani gave me some intel. 

Madani needed someone she could trust.

“He said that he was helping Madani-”

Madani. Frank said he was helping Madani. Not once had Frank mentioned Billy. He had only ever said Dinah’s name. 

Opening your eyes, you slowly lowered your head, looking straight forward at Billy. He arched one of his dark brows, an expectant look on his face.

“Said he was helpin’ Madani with what?”

For a moment you stared at Billy in complete silence. Something wasn’t right. As soon as you had let it slip in your office that Frank was working with Madani, Billy had physically reacted. There was something that had flashed in his eyes, darkening them to momentary blackness. His voice was cold when he’d questioned you about it, almost…angry. You’d initially thought it was because he thought you knew something you weren’t supposed to about Frank’s “assignment”. 

But now you realized it was because he didn’t know about it.

“Why didn’t Frank tell you?”

There was unmistakable suspicion in your voice, and it visibly caught Billy off guard. He narrowed his eyes slightly, cocking his head to the side as he looked at you.

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to figure out.”

Frank hadn’t mentioned anything about what he was doing with Madani to Billy, his best friend. The man he served side by side with for years, had formed a brotherhood with, who he had considered part of his family. That made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and a dreadful chill straightened your spine. He hadn’t been able to tell you exactly what was going on, but he’d at least given you something. 

Frank had mentioned owing Madani a debt, but he was loyal to a fault, and the fact that he hadn’t told Billy set off warning bells in your head. But Billy’s extreme reaction to being purposefully left in the dark was what set your nervous system ablaze with unease. 

The idea of Frank working with Madani without his knowledge seemed to set Billy off, triggering a volatile chain of events. He’d drugged you, kidnapped you from Curtis’ apartment, was essentially holding you hostage, and now he was interrogating you to figure out what you knew. 

One of Frank’s cryptic explanations abruptly parted through the lingering clouds of fogginess in your brain, shedding a blinding light on the most important piece that had been hidden in the shadows of your subconscious. 

“Oh my God.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper and shrouded in disbelief.

It’s connected to someone I know.

You remembered how Frank had stiffened when he’d said that, how his face had hardened to stone. His voice had been quiet, layered with an ominous undertone and barely concealed vitriol. He’d nearly morphed into a man you didn’t recognize right in front of your eyes, and it had made you shiver with discomfort.

And suddenly it clicked. Betrayal. That cold flicker in his eyes he tried to hide was betrayal.

“It’s you.”

Billy watched as the canvas of your face morphed into a portrait of realization and horror.

He visibly stiffened at those words, his lips pressing into a firm line, emphasizing the sharpness of his jaw. 

Billy. All of this was because of Billy. Whatever Madani had found, it was connected to him. That’s why she brought it to Frank. Little moments started to stand out in your head that made you wonder just how long ago Madani had planted the seed of doubt in Frank’s mind. Looking back, he’d acted strangely when you’d mentioned Billy’s name recently, but it was so subtle that you hadn’t even picked up on it.

But him being adamant about leaving you with Curtis, someone you’d never even heard about or met until yesterday, should've been a huge clue.

Knowing that what was causing the divide between you and Frank was none other than the man currently standing in front of you and whatever he had done, you were swiftly filled with an anger that turned your blood molten. Your disbelief and horror slowly hardened into a wall of ice, but your eyes were aflame with resentment.

“What did you do.”

It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation, and the way you grit it through your teeth demanded an answer. Billy’s eyes showed no hint of remorse, and he made no attempt to correct whatever conclusions you were drawing in your head in regards to his character. He rose to his feet, taking a step forward to tower over you, staring down into the flames of rancor blazing in your eyes with a steely gaze of his own. 

“I made something of myself.”

His voice was crisp and clear. There was no layer of apology, no waver of regret. Whatever he’d done, Billy felt justified in it. 

His arrogance had always pissed you off.

Slowly tilting your head to the side, you stared up at him in clear challenge, your tone razor sharp and dripping with venom.

“Yeah? What did it cost?”

The edge of his mouth twitched at your taunt. Grabbing your wrists that were strapped down to the arms of the chair, he leaned forward, getting right in your face as he spoke in an aggravated tone.

“I wasn't handed nothin’. I had to earn everything I got. I had to make some tough decisions along the way, maybe did a few things I'm not so proud of. Empires aren’t built without sacrifice.”

One of the last things Billy had said to you that day in your office when you’d mentioned Frank working with Madani was that some secrets were better left buried. That choice of phrasing left you with a gut feeling that it wasn’t what Billy had left buried, but who. 

“But you didn’t sacrifice anything, did you Billy? No…you sacrificed someone, and it’s come back to haunt you. So who was it? Someone important to Dinah? Or to Frank?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

Billy snapped, suddenly getting defensive. His dark brown eyes had eclipsed into pools of disdain, and his lips were twisted into a faint snarl.

“I’m not lettin’ that bitch destroy everything I built.”

Rising to his full height once again, Billy’s expression shifted back into a passive and more controlled one as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“I’m gonna send Frankie an invite to do a little trade, you for whatever he’s got.”

Letting out a dry scoff, you shook your head as you stared up at him.

“You’re really more concerned about losing your wealth than your best friend?”

“If he digs too deep, he’s gonna find somethin’ he ain’t gonna like, and the war he waged on New York is gonna look like a fuckin’ daydream compared the nightmare he’s gonna bring to my doorstep.”

Billy’s words seemed to pour over you like a bucket of ice, your fiery rage fizzling into frozen perplexity.

“War on New York? What are you talking about?”

Billy’s eyes flickered up from the phone in his hand, meeting your confused gaze. He arched one of his dark brows, looking at you curiously. 

“Oh c’mon, you haven’t figured it out yet? You’re a clever girl. You didn’t put together the pieces I gave you?”

“What pieces?”

“The gift I left on your desk.”

The file. The one that had Frank’s name on it. You’d had a sneaking suspicion Billy was the one that left it, but you never asked him about it, or paid it any attention after your argument with Frank. A furrow of annoyance settled between your brows.

“I never read it.”

Billy seemed genuinely surprised by that, and also confused.

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t my business, and Frank found it anyway and took it.”

He eyed you silently for a moment before slipping his phone back into his pocket and sitting back down on the edge of the crate. Billy cocked his head to the side slightly.

“He tell you how his family died?”

Immediately, you went rigid. A wave of emotions crested within you. The recollection of Frank’s vulnerability in opening up about his tragic loss was fresh. It wasn’t something you’d forget anytime soon, or ever. Hearing the grief in his voice, seeing the pain in his eyes; the worst day of Frank’s life was seared into your memory as deeply as the memory of your own. Billy bringing it up so casually incensed you all over again.

“Why does that matter?”

Billy let out a deep exhale of irritation through his nose at your defensive tone. 

“Did he tell you how they died?”

He repeated his words in a more firm voice, holding your heated gaze.

“Yes, you dick. What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Instead of being angry at your insult, a smirk curled at the edge of Billy’s mouth. There was a wicked gleam in his eye, and it filled you with a sickening feeling of foreboding. 

“Pop quiz, sweetheart. Who were the three gangs the Punisher took out?”

Bewilderment wiped any lingering emotion from your face. Billy’s question seemed to send a shock through your brainwaves, causing a delay between it and your mouth.

“What?”

“C’mon, this is an easy one. You wrote an article about the guy. Who were they?”

Billy’s eyes twinkled with amusement under the harsh fluorescents, clearly enjoying knowing something you didn’t. He was taunting you, and despite knowing better than to give into his little game, your curiosity got the better of you.

“The Dogs of Hell, the Kitchen Irish, and the Mexican Cartel.”

Billy’s lips spread into a pleased smirk at your reluctant answer, and he gave you a faint not of his head.

“Good girl. Now, you had a uh, mentor, at the Bulletin. Ben, right?” 

The mention of Ben’s name sent a pang through you, but Billy’s sudden switch in topics from the Punisher’s victims to Ben gave you mental whiplash. He didn’t give you more than a second to react before he continued.

“He wrote an article a few years ago about a little shootout, ended in a massacre. Remind me, where was that?”

Anxiety shot through you, making every single hair on your body stand to attention. 

“Central Park.”

“And there was one survivor. What was his name?”

The apprehension you felt was evident in the way you lightly gripped onto the arms of the chair. You hadn’t known that answer when Ben originally worked on that article, but you knew it now. Trying to keep up the strong front you were putting on, you attempted to keep your voice even.

“His name was never released.”

“No, it wasn’t. But when he woke up from that coma and found out his entire family had been killed in that shootout, he sure as hell made sure that New York would never forget the one they gave him.”

Billy watched the way your expression transitioned from translucent coolness, to perplexity, and finally wary hesitance. Keeping his eyes locked on you, he slowly rose from the crate, stalking towards you, but instead of coming to a stop in front of you like he had earlier, he began to circle you like a predator. 

“Tell me sweetheart, who was there that day?”

“Why does that-”

“Just answer the question.”

Letting out a sharp exhale through your nose, you began to rattle off the details you remembered from the article.

“The Dogs of Hell, the Kitchen Irish, and the-”

Immediately, you froze. Billy came to a stop behind you, and you could almost feel the way he was staring at the back of your head intensely.

“And?”

His voice was calm, but you could detect a hint of amusement. He was enjoying this, forcing you to solve his little riddle. But this time, you didn’t want to put the pieces together. You didn’t want to solve this puzzle. You wanted to run away from it. 

“The Mexican Cartel.”

The words were barely a decibel above a whisper when they left your lips, but in the silence of the space, they seemed to roar in your ears. Your hands were now gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that your knuckles had gone stark white, the flesh stretched taut over the bone. 

Feeling Billy’s hands settle on your shoulders, you flinched, and he squeezed them roughly in response. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck as he bent down to speak directly into your ear.

“What’s his name?”

Billy was a master manipulator. He was toying with you, trying to get a rise out of you by messing with your head. That’s all this was. It was a cruel trick, trying to make you think that the man who had single handedly wiped out the three largest gangs in New York City was the John Doe from the hospital. The he was-

“C’mon, you’re a smart girl. I can see the gears turning in your head. You know his name. Tell me who the Punisher-”

“The Punisher is dead.”

The sharpness and volume of your voice seemed to echo around the space you were currently trapped in. 

“Dead, huh?”

Billy gave your shoulders another firm squeeze before letting go and appearing in front of you again. He looked down at you, taking in the way your eyes were wide open, your breathing had become ragged, and your nails nearly bled from digging them into the wood of the chair so hard. He knelt down in front of you, brushing your hair away from your face, causing you to flinch at his touch, which seemed to annoy him.

He ran his hand through the strands of his raven hair, pushing it back into its perfectly gelled style as he let out a deep exhale through his nose and glanced around absentmindedly.

“He should be. Shoulda died a long time ago. Hell, that bullet to the head shoulda put him down for good. But that stubborn son of a bitch just refuses to die.”

Shutting your eyes, you could see Frank in the cabin. The golden sunlight coming through the window, shining on his tan skin. His warm brown eyes locked on yours, making you feel like he could see right into your soul. The roughness of his calloused palms stroking your cheek while tucking your hair behind your ear. The velvet baritone of his voice echoing in your ears.

We uh…we were at Central Park. We had this uh…this tradition, ya’know. Every time I came home from a tour, we’d pack a picnic and go, make a whole day of it. 

I don’t uh…I don’t remember when the shootin’ started.

I…made peace with it, ya’know…laid it to rest in my own way. 

It was there. It was right there. Frank had inadvertently told you the truth that day, and you hadn’t even realized.

Billy could see the revelation you’d had when you opened your eyes. He could see the evidence of the truth shining along your bottom lash line. You were so thunderstruck by your epiphany, you didn’t budge this time when Billy reached out to brush a stray tear away from your face.

“Nah, he ain’t dead sweetheart. He's been right by your side this whole time. And when he finds out I've got you, he’s gonna come for you.”

It didn’t matter what Frank had found on Billy. As soon as he found out what Billy had done to you, he was coming. But it wasn’t Frank who was coming.

It was the Punisher.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[rafescherie]

PORNSTAR. — RAFE CAMERON

synopsisᝰ.ᐟ bsf!rafe finds something he definitely shouldn't have, and teeters crossing the boundaries of your friendship.

warningᝰ.ᐟ 18+ MDNI. use of vibrators, best friends, praise & degradation, fingering & boob play

cherie’s note — this is so gooner!bsf!rafe coded yuuup mind constantly filled with disgusting ideas of the things he wanted to do to you … omg i’m weak in the KNEES of course he'd jump on the first opportunity he could to play into his best fantasies. queue pornstar by nessa barrett thank u dj

it was almost humorous how flustered you had gotten over the discovery — cheeks dusted with a rosy red blush, biting your lip embarrassingly. even on your tiptoes, you couldn’t grab the object out of his firm grasp. you were so short in comparison to your best friend, rafe cameron, you had no other option than to accept defeat from your stolen item when he held it over his head.

“rafe, come on…” you groan, a pout staining your face. “s’not funny, give me it.”

he rolls his pretty blue eyes, how pathetic of you. of course this was funny, to him at least. lucky for him, you had so stupidly forgotten your favourite vibrator under your silk pillow. it was like you wanted him to find it, he thought. despite being your best friend since middle school, he had always fantasized about this exact moment — the power dynamic, and how you were wrapped around his finger.

“m’jus curious, s’all.” he speaks, shit-eating grin smothered on his face. he was evil — evil in the way that this entire interaction was only fuelling his own arousal, the bulge within his pants growing at the sight of how embarrassingly flustered you had gotten over his finding.

your pretty plump lips part, a huff of annoyance slipping out — if rafe was anything, it was stubborn. “you saw it, now give it back.”

the whine itself was almost enough for him to give in — to cave at the request. that pitiful little pout of your lips always seemed to do the trick for him, willing to do anything for you just to see it fade. but he had something different in mind, something more wicked. he had dreamed of this very moment, your total vulnerability ready to be played with like putty within his palms. “nah, lemme try it on you.”

your eyes widened at the demand, a rush of disbelief flooding your senses. the words hung heavy in the air, heavy and impossible to fathom. you stood frozen, heart racing, your mind trying to process what he had just said. was this some kind of joke?

“gross, no. you’re my best friend, rafe.”

“so?” he began, his gaze darkening with desire. he had pumped his cock raw at the idea alone, having you submissive and obeying every word for him. “s’not like i like you or anything… jus’wanna see if its like in porn.”

grimacing at his remark, you roll your eyes. porn was so icky, but then again so was his filthy request. that didn’t stop the ache of need and irritation, clenching your thighs at the thought alone.

“c’mon,” rafe cooed, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. he looked so cocky, so smug. he knew he had you thinking about it, and it wouldn’t be too hard to convince you after that. “only two minutes.”

it was only a matter of time until you were naked in your own bed, best friend perched greedily near your hips so he could get the best view. this felt so wrong — face flushing hot blushes across your cheeks every time you looked over at him. he looked so invested, head of the vibrator pressed firmly against your poor sensitive clit.

“jesus,” he chuckles, “sweet cunt’s dripping, all i did was ask a question.”

“shut up, rafe…” you whine, feeling so vulnerable against the cold air of your bedroom. your thighs had become numb from the way he had you positioned, muscular arm under your leg to hold them open.

the feeling of the head vibrating against your sensitive nerves had your eyes rolling, back arching off of the bed. and even though he’d only told you ‘two minutes’, the pornographic whine you had let out at the feeling of the rough vibrations against your core had only egged him on further, hands creeping up your chest to toy with your tits greedily, handfuls of your fat moulding around the shape of his large hand.

“rafe..” you moan, back arching off of the bed at the overwhelming feeling. “feels so good.”

“i bet, baby.” he hums, lips finding the side of your jaw as he presses soft messy kisses against your skin. his cock twitches against the fly of his pants at the sound of your moans fill the room.

“rafe.. we can’t-“ you start, breathy moan escaping.

his lips find the corner of your mouth, effectively shutting you up. the kiss he delivers against your whiny mouth is messy and quick, burst of lust rather than passion. you groan into his mouth, feeling his thick fingers caressing against the curves of your clothed tits, kneading the fat within his palms.

his hands eagerly slip under your shirt, calloused fingers working to pinch and squeeze the sensitive pearl of your nipples. within seconds, he has you panting desperately for air, pleasure consuming too fast over your body while your best friend fervently gropes you. the noises that flood out of your pretty plump lips is a jumbled mess of nothing but noise — muttering curse words under your breath, whimpering against the feeling of his skin on yours where it definitely shouldn't be. still, you find it impossible to pry his hands away from your whining body, cord within your stomach ready to snap any seconds.

"doing so good, sitting and taking it for me." he murmurs, the smirk within his voice obvious. his lips connect with the sensitive skin of your tits, tongue lapping at your hardened nipples — eliciting a pathetic sharp little cry from your throat.

pulling the vibrator away from your sore cunt, his fingers slipped inside of you so easily, arousal pooling within your puffy folds. he desperately attempted to coax your orgasm to light, thick digits curling inside of you what felt like the hundredth time where you needed it the most. his dark blue eyes bored into the sight of you — angelic against the situation, you looked so damn beautiful, and so vulnerable for him.

your legs shake, orgasm suddenly washing over your body fast and hard. he's panting into your ear, watching as his actions make you completely fall apart. he had yearned for this moment, seeing the way your face scrunched and your eyes rolled back as you came.

“yeah, that’s it. cum on my fingers, bitch.”

your body pulses, his fingers slowing to a halt inside of you as the room fills quickly with the sound of both of your exhaustion, panting practically in sync with one another. he couldn't seem to rip his gaze away from you, watching the mess you had made of yourself, all because of him.

a wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you look over at him, smugness spread across his face. "what're you looking at?"

"nothing." he replies with a shrug. he looks so proud of himself, "m'just saying, the way you came on my fingers? just like a fucking pornstar."

shoving him in the chest, you playfully roll your eyes, "you're disgusting, rafe cameron."

you would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about his fingers inside of you, too.

[viintageslut]

hii! i hope my request isnt too bad its my first time doing this but😭 id love to read a oneshot of sevika's reaction to reader coming home after getting into a fight outside! (if ur comfortable w it ofc🙂‍↕️)

BIG SMOOCH💛!!

all she wants to do is protect her partner 😔

She’s fucking mortified.

For the first time in… however long — you weren’t there when she got off of work, which alarmed her, but she was sure you went to the markets or something with a reasonable explanation.

But to watch you stumble in, a bloody nose that seemed to be broken accompanied by a plethora of plum coloured bruises scattered along the plane of your skin?

Mortified.

Her stormy eyes widen as she watches you limp into your shared condo, her chapped lips parting as she really processed the sight. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her run so fast in your life, even when enforcers were on her tail. Her cigar now lay face down in the pottery ash-tray Jinx had made for her as her calloused fingers traced over your face, your perfect, sweet face. You winced, hissing through your teeth as her thumb dragged along a sensitive spot on your jaw.

"Hi." You grumbled, cracking a weak smile. She didn’t laugh though, not the way she usually laughs at your ironic quotes — instead she snarls, the woman tilts your jaw to the side and lets her grip tighten just the tiniest bit.

"Who the fuck did this?" The crease between her eyebrows was apparent, and the clench of her jaw was undeniable. She was angry. Only, you simply shook your head — wrapping your hands around her wrists and humming. "’S okay honey, I took care of ‘em. You always underestimate me, you know that?" You tease, reaching out to smooth the ‘V’ shaped indent between her thick eyebrows.

She softens under your touch, of course she does, exhaling the breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She didn’t know why she underestimated you suddenly, she knew of your strength — it’s what keeps people alive down here. But a primal part of her wanted to pop whoever did its head like a pimple. She couldn’t fathom it.

"Jesus, honey. Come into the light- lemme see the damage." She pulled you into the kitchen, where a warmly lit overhead light was illuminating an otherwise dark room. She could see the extent of it now, nothing too bad, but some ice definitely didn’t hurt.

"I just don’t understand why anyone would ever wanna hurt you." You quirked a brow, cocking your head and watching her reach into the freezer to grab an ice pack. "The person I am to you is different than the person I am to other people, y’know that… right?" She raised her eyebrows, the nodded — the sheer logic of your statement was enough for her not to debate. She gently backed you up so your thighs met the counter, her muscles flexed as she hoisted you on to it — careful not to irritate any of your injuries. The sudden motion made you gasp, then giggle. "You gotta warn me before you do that."

She just huffed, shaking her head and cracking a grin before toying with the hem of your shirt. You nodded down at her, allowing her to lift it up just enough to reveal your torso. Your rib cage was bruised purple, a perfect match to the hue of the marks along your jaw. Instead of you wincing, she did. She hated seeing you in pain, it made her wanna lock you in the house and never let you out again. The sudden sensation of the cold ice against your warm skin made you whimper a little, grasping onto your girlfriend’s bicep to express your pain in a little less vocal way.

"Shh, shh baby. Just calm down, yeah? ‘M right here." She gently peeled your hand off of her toned bicep, placing it on the ice so you could hold it yourself. "That feel okay?" She questioned, her hand coming up to cup your face in an attempt to comfort you. The pain eased into relief, and with an exhale, you nodded. She smiled in return.

"Good. D’you wanna go to bed or just cuddle on the couch? I’ll make us something to eat, soup maybe?" Sevika wasn’t the best cook, but she could brew a mean soup, and you couldn’t turn down the offer. "Yeah, soup sounds nice. And- I guess the bed, I gotta change too." You frowned, gesturing to your blood stained tank top. Without another word, she scooped you up without warning yet again — causing you to gasp even louder than last time. She carried you bridal style to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed with such care, it made you weak, and that was not your injuries talking.

everything i used to describe reader was intentional. you are so beautiful and i love u.

[honeylullaby]

“There’s just something about ya’.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 Despite his dislike of the upper class, Declan cannot help but fall for Rupert’s daughter.

18+ FANFIC / Romantic angst, smut mention ? Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy!🩷

Taggie flounced down the winding staircase of The Priory, adorned in a blush pink taffeta dress with sparkling white kitten heels, a radiant grin painted across her face. “Where did ya’ get that? Looks fuckin’ expensive.” Declan growled as he watched her, puffing on a cigarette. Even her father’s pessimism couldn’t deflate her mood right now. “It’s my friends. Do you like it?” She asked, running her hand across the silk hem. “Yes. What friend?” Declan asked, now scratching mercilessly at his stubbled beard. “Rupert’s daughter. I met her the other day, she’s wonderful.” Taggie beamed. Declan let out a raucous scoff and tied beige loafers to his feet. “Jesus Christ, there’s two of them? God help us all.” He snapped, letting out an exasperated exhale. “Well, I need to go up and see him, so ya’ can come along and see the second devil incarnate.” Declan joked, chuckling to himself.

-

Stuffing themselves into the rusted old Mini, Declan and Taggie drove across the valley, speeding up to Penscombe Court, mud careering from the car’s wheel arches. The Mini seemed awfully out of place beside Rupert’s Porsche. A large wicker hamper was propped onto Taggie’s lap, a picnic basket laden with sandwiches, homemade jam and cakes. “Do you have ta’ bring them food every time?” Declan questioned, glancing over at the brimming basket. “Yes, I do. It’s nice to bring gifts.” Taggie replied, her smile unwavering. As they bundled out of the car, they were greeted by you, out in the field — dressed elegantly in a chiffon white floral summer dress, barefoot and with golden-hair arranged across your shoulders in loose waves. Beside you, the most magnificent Friesian horse, its mane braided tightly with pink ribbons. “What on Earth?” Declan muttered in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing as Taggie’s already ecstatic grin grew.

“Darling! Hello!” You yelled over, giving the Friesian horse a prompt kiss on the nose and sprinting over, your bare feet crunching underneath the gravelled driveway. Taggie passed Declan the hamper and subsequently threw her arms around you, squeezing tightly. She had never met someone with as much positivity as her in all her life. “Hello, Mr O’Hara.” You chime, curtseying jokingly. “Hello. Rupert’s daughter, I take it?” He asked, his lip curled in irritation. “Yes, I’ll take you in.” You reply, unfazed by Declan’s reaction and leading them both into the grand home.

Awkwardly shuffling after you into the living room, it could be observed that Rupert was reading The Scorpion in his arm chair, sipping from a crystal tumbler of whiskey. His nonchalant expression brightened at the sight of company. “Hello, darling. Come and sit down.” Rupert mumbled to you, patting the chaise lounge beside him. You obliged, and collapsed down, spreading your limbs across the plush crimson velvet. Taggie and Declan opted for the chocolate brown leather sofa across from you. “So, Declan, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, reaching for three more glasses and filling them to the top with his best whiskey. “I left my programming schedules the other day. Need them.” He grunted, sparking a cigarette and taking an elongated drag. “Angel, go and grab them, please.” Rupert nodded towards you. With an exasperated groan, you pulled yourself upwards and sauntered out of the room, Declan unable to stop his eyes from following your rounded behind. Rupert’s tilted his head in confusion, his eyes almost glowing amber like a hawk.

Returning moments later with a mountain of paperwork, you dropped them onto the leather sofa beside Declan. “Thank you.” He smiled softly, his hand meeting yours as he reached across for them. “That dress looks spectacular on you, Tag. I found loads more this morning! I have an amazing ivory silk dress, backless and drop dead gorgeous.” You rattle, reclining back beside your father. “Isn’t that the one I bought you for your 18th? You’re getting rid of it already?” Rupert quizzed through a wide smile. “I’m not getting rid of it! It will look gorgeous on Tag. Declan, I’m sure I can find you something good from Daddy’s old closet.” You joke, narrowing your cerulean eyes. “I’m okay for Rupert’s handouts, thanks.” He snapped.

- - -

The following day, Declan was rudely awakened from his hungover stupor by a deafening knock on the door. Barely managing to pull on his grey dressing gown, he hauled the door open. “What?” He thundered. “Good morning! Daddy was incredibly hungover this morning, so I can only imagine you are too. I bought you some pink lemonade, and a Victoria sponge.” You twinkled, pushing your way through the front door. “I don’t want it.” He barked, attempting to block your way. “Oh, nonsense. Of course you do. I’m a star baker.” Your golden hair was hooked together in a tight fishtail braid, cascading down your shoulder. Your makeup was clean, light and fresh, exactly how Declan likes. Even better, you had swapped your mud-stained summer dress for a tight pair of blue jeans, a turquoise linen blouse and a pair of black canvas shoes. “Ya’ look… normal.” He remarked, secretly admiring the way your jeans stretched tightly over your arse. “By normal, you mean you like the way my arse looks?” You giggled, setting the sponge down on the kitchen counter. Not so secretly then.

“No. Yes. But no.” Declan couldn’t help but chuckle with you. “Don’t tell your Dad I said that.” He added. “I won’t. I’m glad you like it.” You mutter, smacking your behind swiftly. Declan growled in approval, closing the gap between you two — so close that you could feel the heat of his breath raining down over your chest. “Don’t tease me.” He purred.

[writingdumpster]

flashes

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, nude photos, fingering, m receiving oral, breeding, p in v, dacryphilia, squirting, minor degradation, minor praise, creampie,

summary: you buy a special set of lingerie when you know you're ovulating and Bob asks if he can take pictures of you while you fuck.

word count: 3.2k

“Can I take pictures of you?” 

Bob���s question surprised you. You had sent him nudes before, and it wasn’t like he had never seen photos of you, but he had never taken any himself. You did look good. His jaw had literally dropped when he saw you. You bought a special lingerie set to wear that night. It wasn’t too fancy, but it was Bob’s favorite shade of blue and it was made of a thin mesh material that left little to the imagination.

“You want to take pictures of me?” You questioned. 

“On my polaroid,” Bob explained. “To have while I’m gone.” You smiled softly. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “That’s okay.” His expression perked up. He gave you a soft kiss. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bob drawled, his accent sweet. He scrambled from his place on the edge of the bed. You had instructed him to wait there while you made your grand entrance from the bathroom after changing into your lingerie set. He fished his polaroid camera out of its place in the closet and loaded it up with a new set of film.

“What do you want me to do, sir?” You asked. You wanted Bob to take charge of this. Not just because the pictures were for him, but because you were nervous. You were ovulating. You had been casually trying with Bob. The two of you had stopped using condoms, but you had started tracking your cycle. You were ready. You hadn’t told Bob. He wanted kids too, you had stopped using protection on purpose, but you were nervous about it. 

“Could you get on your knees for me?” Bob asked. You smirked as you fell to your knees in front of him. You reached for his belt, carefully unbuckling it and shoving his pants down his legs. He was already rock hard, the idea of photographing you had been enough to wind him up. You spit on your hand and then wrapped your fingers around his cock. He moaned softly. You leaned down and gave his tip a few kitten licks, cleaning up the precum that was leaking out of him. 

“Look up at me,” Bob called. “Stick your tongue out.” You turned your eyes up towards Bob to find he was pointing the camera down at you. He took his cock in his free hand and pressed it down against your tongue before the camera flashed. Bob dropped the photo on the bedside table, where a stack of them would soon sit. While he was distracted you let his cock push down your throat. He gasped in surprise, knees nearly giving out beneath him. 

“Jesus, honey,” Bob groaned. You hummed in satisfaction around him, pleased that you had caught him off guard. He was good at teasing you, and you always had to find your own ways to get back at him. 

Bob turned his focus back down to you as you deepthroated his thick cock. He pulled your hair back into a makeshift ponytail so he could see you as your lips moved up and down his shaft. He groaned as he gently guided you up and down, keeping the control mostly in your hands. 

“Look up,” Bob called. You flicked your eyes up to see the lens of the camera facing you. You gave your best innocent doe eyes as the camera flashed again. He pulled you off his cock, tossing the picture with the other. 

“What next, Robby?” You asked as you licked your lips. He lifted you to your feet and pulled you in for a kiss. 

“I want to get some of you in this pretty little thing you bought for me, sweetheart,” Bob told you cheekily. “Lay on the bed.” You quickly followed his instruction, climbing onto the bed and laying out on your back. You spread your hair around your head and adjusted the lingerie set. Bob was crouched on his knees, looming above you as he pointed the camera down at your body. 

“Smile for me, honey,” Bob called. The absurdity of the context pulled a giggle from you and the camera flashed again. He looked down at you thoughtfully, planning out his next masterpiece. He smirked when his idea came. 

“Spread your legs for me,” Bob requested. “Squeeze those pretty tits I love so much.” You moaned softly at the idea. He was really indulging himself. You followed his instructions and the camera flashed again. 

Bob kneeled over your hips so he could reach you better. He pushed his thumb down against your tongue. You closed your lips around it, letting your tongue slide against it. 

“That’s my good girl,” Bob cooed as you sucked on his finger. The camera flashed again. He slowly drew his hand away from your mouth. He slid his hand to rest on your throat. The pressure was firm, but not restricting. The camera flashed again. His hands kept moving down to your breasts, squeezing them in a way that would leave bruises in the morning as the camera flashed once more. 

“I want your bra off,” Bob told you. You leaned up from the mattress and pulled the fabric off, leaving you nearly bare in front of him. He grabbed your tits, thumb rubbing over your nipples  briefly. He sunk his fingers around your round breast and flashed the camera again. 

“Can I have your cock now, sir?” You begged. Bob smirked. 

“No,” Bob said. “I want some pictures with my fingers inside your pretty little pussy first.” You sighed in disapproval. 

“Hurry up then,” you whined. He chuckled. 

“Be patient,” Bob told you. “I want to take my time with you.” As much as you were desperate for Bob’s cock you couldn’t help the small whimper that his words pulled from you. “Can you lift your legs up for me?” He requested. You smiled softly at him as you lifted your legs into the air so he could remove your panties. He tossed them off the side of the bed. 

Bob looked down at your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal for him. He put the camera down and used both hands to stroke up and down your thighs. His touch was featherlight, drawing goosebumps to your skin. 

“Robby…” You whispered needily. 

“I know, baby,” Bob cooed in understanding. “I promise that I’ll give you everything you want, but you have to be patient.” Something in his tone was different. He knew what you really wanted from him. He knew you wanted him to make you a mother.  

“Please just touch my pussy, Robby,” you begged. “However you want. I don’t care. I just need to feel you there.” Bob smiled. He moved a single finger to your clit, gently rubbing circles around it to appease you. The moment Bob’s finger made contact with your clit your back arched in the air and your mouth fell open in a silent moan. 

“Open your eyes,” Bob ordered. When you did the camera flashed on your face. 

“Are you ready for a finger?” He asked. 

“Can I have two?” You pleaded. Bob considered your request. You were being good for him and you were letting him live out this fantasy. 

“Okay, honey,” Bob agreed. “Two it is.” He sucked his ring and middle fingers between his lips, coating them in his spit. “Ready?” He asked as he aimed the camera towards your dripping twat. You nodded furiously. 

“Please,” you begged. “I need you.” Bob smirked. You needed him. Wasn’t that sweet?

“I’ve got you, baby.” No sooner did you feel Bob’s fingertips gently sliding through your folds. You inhaled sharply, waiting for him to give you what you wanted. He was filled with a wave of pride at the small sound. It made him desperate to give you what you wanted. He pushed his fingers into you, his movement quick enough to relieve your desire without being harsh. The camera flashed.

“Thank you, Robby,” You mewled.

“You’re welcome, honey,” Bob cooed back. He kept a steady rhythm inside you as he snapped another picture of your cunt with his fingers buried in it. “You’re so sexy, sweetheart,” Bob groaned as he felt you clench down on his fingers. 

“I want your cock, Robby,” you whined. 

“Come on my fingers first,” Bob pleaded with you. He put the camera down and reached down with his other hand to rub tight circles around your clit with his thumb. You moaned in surprise and kicked your legs against the mattress. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Bob cooed. “Come for me.” He hooked his fingers against your walls, pressing into your g spot as he sped up his movements on your clit. 

“Fuck! Bobby!” You cried out in pleasure. The camera flashed. Your walls pulsated around Bob’s fingers and your legs shook. You arched your back away from the mattress. The camera flashed. You opened your eyes to see Bob’s adoring stare as he flashed the camera once more on your sweaty, fucked out face. 

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” Bob murmured. Tears sprung to your eyes despite his sweet praise. 

“Your cock, Robby,” you whined. “Need your cock, please.” You sniffled as you fell into a state of total desperation for only one thing. Bob’s eyes softened upon seeing your tears. He quickly reached up to wipe them away. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Bob whispered softly. He crawled up your body, bringing the camera with him. “Didn’t realize just how bad you needed me.” He lined the swollen head of his cock up with your dripping hole. 

“Always need you this bad, Robby,” you whimpered. Bob kissed your nose softly. 

“I know, baby,” he cooed. “Me too.” You moaned softly. Bob had gotten himself in position to take another picture. He had his thick cock in his hand, lined up perfectly with your wet slit. He held the camera in his other hand. His eyes flicked up to yours. “Ready?” He asked. You nodded quickly. Bob pushed his cock into you. The camera flashed several times—some photos on your face or your body, and a few at the spot where you were connected. 

“Ohh, Robert…” You moaned slowly as you felt him fill the emptiness that you’d needed him to fill. Bob cursed quietly. You looked up at him. He was beautiful, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and his body tight around you. 

“Can I take a picture of you?” You asked. Bob smirked. 

“Yeah, honey,” he agreed. “You can take one.” He handed you the camera. You pointed it up at him and reached up, dragging your nails down his chest as the camera flashed. You handed him the camera and the undeveloped photo. 

“Thank you, Bobby.” Bob put the camera  and photo to the side and turned his focus fully on you. He leaned down on his forearm so he could kiss your neck as his hips fucked slowly into you. He grabbed your leg with his other hand, pulling it up around his hip so he could get just a bit deeper. 

You came without warning, but kept your moans in. You weren’t supposed to come without asking. Bob kept fucking into you and you thought you’d gotten away with it when you came again. You were doing your best to keep your breathing even and not pass out as you recovered. Then Bob switched arms and pulled your other leg around his hip as well. You knew that you were going to squirt this time. 

“Can I come?” You cried out suddenly, unsure whether you’d be able to hold it anyway. 

“Yes, baby,” Bob agreed. You let the electric pleasure run over you, whimpering and whining as you did. Bob wore a proud grin as he watched your face contorting in pleasure and felt you clench down on his hard cock. Clear fluid sprayed out over his cock. Bob reached down and rubbed back and forth on your clit, splashing your cum all over the sheets. You were panting as Bob stilled his hips, still buried inside you. 

“You’re so pretty when you come, baby girl,” Bob drawled. His accent was thicker when he used the low tone that he would pull during sex. He knew how much it drove you crazy. “How many times was that? Be honest, I know you came at least once without telling me.” 

“Including when you fingered me?” You asked shyly. 

“Yes, sweetheart,” Bob replied. 

“Four,” you told him quietly, awaiting your punishment for the two unpermitted orgasms.

“Why are you so horny today, huh?” Bob asked. You looked away. You knew exactly why. It was why you’d bought the lingerie. Bob wanting to take pictures had been a surprising bonus. “Answer me,” Bob pushed. 

“I’m ovulating,” you admitted in a whisper. Bob groaned roughly. He made one quick and deep thrust into you, pulling a surprised gasp from you. 

“You want me to get you pregnant, baby?” Bob asked, his voice as slow and smooth as molasses. You nodded. “Tell me, honey. Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to get me pregnant, Robby,” you told him. “I want you to fuck your cum deep into me.” 

“All you had to do was ask, baby,” Bob said with a smile. He began fucking you again, faster this time. If you wanted his cum he was going to give it to you. You clawed at his back and he left hickies over your chest and neck. Bob reached down between your bodies to rub circles over your clit. You moaned loudly. 

“Can I please come?” You begged. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Bob told you. You fell apart on Bob’s cock, tightening down on him as he thrust into you. He moaned loudly, making a few harsh thrusts into you before you felt him coming deep into you. He kept fucking into you as he rode out his orgasm. You were slowly coming down. He leaned back onto his knees so he was upright and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and pulled you down against him, getting deeper than you had ever felt him before. The new sensation threw you into another unexpected orgasm and you cried out in pleasure, milking Bob’s cock for everything he could give you. 

“Thank you, Robby,” you whimpered. Bob chuckled.

“I’m not done, sweetheart. If we want you to get pregnant I should probably give you more than one load.” You whimpered at the thought alone. Bob could already feel himself getting hard again. He rubbed your clit slowly, making you clench and flex around him. It was just what he needed to make him rock hard again. You moaned at the feeling of him hardening inside you. 

“Give it to me, Robby,” you whined. Bob didn’t need any other words of encouragement to begin fucking into you. He started off with a steady pace–not too fast, but not slow either. You were falling apart regardless, completely unable to hold in orgasms anymore as you lost yourself in the pleasure of Bob’s cock. He hit just the right spot and you felt the tightness in your stomach exploding again.

“Are you coming again?” 

“Yes, Robby,” you gasped. “I’m–ungh–I’m sorry. I can’t h-help it,” you whined. 

“Pathetic little thing, aren’t you?” Bob taunted. The degradation only made you come harder. His dog tags were dangling over you as he thrust in and out. You reached up and twisted the chain around your finger, tugging him down to meet your lips. He kissed you with a passion that reminded you of the very first time you kissed. His thrusts were getting more irregular as you continued pulsing around him. He reached down to your clit, desperate to pull one last orgasm from you. He rubbed against the sensitive nub, lubricated by his own cum leaking out around his cock. 

You screamed out in overwhelming pleasure and came again. Fire burned through your body as every part of your body tightened and then snapped into a release. You were moaning loudly, not really aware of the sounds that were coming out of your mouth. You started squirting again, the fluid spraying out around Bob’s cock as he continued to fuck into you. He groaned loudly at the sight. Bob grunted, gasping loudly before hammering harshly into you with a deafening moan as he emptied everything he had into you. Bob rolled off of you after a moment. The two of you lay there, quietly catching your breath as the two of you each recovered from the strongest orgasms either of you had ever had. 

“How many times was that for you, sweetheart?” Bob asked after a moment. 

“Eight, I think,” you admitted. 

“Jesus,” Bob said. “I hope the pregnancy hormones are this good too.” 

“You came so much, Robby. I can feel it inside me,” you murmured. “It’s so warm.” 

“Will you push it out for me, baby? Will you show me what I gave you?” Bob requested. He leaned up and grabbed the camera. 

“That’s not gonna help me get pregnant,” you said. 

“I’ll push it back into you, baby. Besides, I fucked my first load real deep into you,” he said. 

“You’re so dirty, Robby,” you teased. Bob smiled. He kissed your thigh. 

“Please, baby?” You rolled your eyes but smiled. You clenched your insides, trying to push out the thick cumload Bob had given you. Suddenly you felt the warm liquid dripping down your folds. “Fucking hell, honey.” He took one last picture. He scooped his cum back up onto his fingers, pushing it back into you again. He crawled up the bed to be level with you, putting the camera on the bedside table and picking up the stack of photos. 

“Want to see?” Bob asked. You nodded as you scooted over to his side. The two of you looked through the photos, Bob complimenting something about you in each one. When you got to the photo you had taken of him you grinned widely. 

“You look so sexy, Bobby,” you said. Bob chuckled. 

“Glad you think so, honey,” he said. You bumped your arm against him. 

“You’re an adonis, Bobby. Completely out of my league,” you said with a smile. Bob rolled his eyes. 

“Honey, I’m in a squad with adonises, but I ain’t one,” Bob joked. 

“Oh, please. None of them even compare to you. You had me wrapped around your finger the moment I saw your eyes,” you said in reflex. Bob could tell you meant it by how quickly you said it. 

“I love you, baby,” he said simply. You looked up at him and kissed him gently. 

“I love you too.” Bob turned back to the photos. 

“Could you write me notes on them? Like you do with my lunches?” Bob asked shyly. You grinned at him, leaning to kiss him gleefully. You pulled away with a smile still on your face. He always told you how much he loved the notes you put in his lunch everyday. 

“Yes,” you said simply. “Do you want them to be sexy or sweet?” You asked. Bob smiled softly. 

“Both, just like you.” Bob flipped to the picture of his cum dripping out of your pussy. He hummed softly at it. “I sorta wish I could’ve had one with my cum on your face too,” he said. You smirked. 

“I think I can make that happen.”

[mobilesuitzetagundam]

quit

Never

[shugarbunni]

pt.1 of kitty!reader x professor!james... enjoy!

"professor?" your voice breaks through the chatter of the group of professors (Mr Potter, Mr Lupin, Mr Black, Mr Pettigrew and, every students favourite, Mrs Evans.) as you crack the classroom door open. its lunch break, really you should be out in the campus cafeteria with your friends, but you just had to ask him (him being your secret sex god boyfriend, professor potter) about the test results, right?

their heads snap up, James huffing softly in exasperation when he sees you. none of the other professors know, to your knowledge. James said they'd have his bloody head if they knew he'd started sleeping with a student.

"uhm, sorry for intruding" you say in that faux sickly sweet voice of yours "i just had a few questions about my grade?"

Sirius gives James a smirk, only to be kicked under the table by James. James swivels his chair to fully face you, giving you a soft yet stern look.

"we can discuss at the end of the day, kit." he says, the other professors awkwardly looking away.

"i'm not gunna be on campus, I'm going out." you frown, brows furrowing in confusion. he never turns you down. like, ever.

"right." he huffs, scratching the back of his neck, his bicep pushing against the fabric of his shirt. jesus fuck, he's hot. "then we can go over them tomorrow, kit. alright?" he says, and its obvious he's trying to be strict. why the hell is he being strict?

"oh." you almost pout, shoulders slumping in disappointment "right, okay. yeah, tomorrow." you fluster, scurrying out of the classroom before anything else can be said.

well, great. you'd went in expecting a fuck and a five minute nap on his lap, only to be, what? turned down? asshole. he's a total asshole!

"you're doing the right thing, mate." Remus huffs as you leave the classroom, the energy tense "she's barely 20, James. trust me, you're saving the both of you a lot of trouble."

"i know." he mumbles, gazing off into the distance with a crease between his brows. lily shoves him, a stern look on her face "i know, okay?" he reiterates, trying to be more convincing "i know its better if i cut it off i just... nevermind." he says as he slumps in his chair, pushing his lunch away.

"its your fault for telling us." lily says, shrugging as she swallows her food "you must've known wed make you shut it down, James."

"i did- alright, i did know. i just didn't think id be this fucking bothered." he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

"yeah, well" Sirius grins, nudging him "were gunna go out tonight. like old times, hm? get y'mind off it?"

"..fine. but only us 5. I'm not going if you two bring your happy relationships to shove in my face. already have to deal with moony n pads." he complains, pointing at lily and peter.

"Emma hates going out, you know that" peter says through a mouthful of pasta. Emma, his girlfriend (who he's been with for four years, mind you. he's got to pop the question sometime, surely). she's a sweet girl - one of those vegan, farmers market, crochet all your blankets and tea pot covers type of people. her and Pete really suit, honestly.

"and Mary's working tonight." lily says with a proud smile. Mary, lily's girlfriend since they were all at high school. again, very sweet person. shes a nurse now, which is very on brand for her. always did love helping people.

"brilliant!" Sirius beams, toying with remus' hand, who gives him a soft smile and a nod.

well, tonight could either go wonderfully or horribly. James could definitely wait to find out which it's gunna be.

okay i don't know how to feel about this!! ill do an intro to my kitty!reader soon, let me know if you guys r into this or not<3

[sunshine-on-marz]

Hi lovely could I please request for Spencer Reid where the reader is in the bau and is the only one who asks questions when Spencer starts rambling because she’s genuinely interested and one day Reid asks if she wants to go see a movie after she asked him about it and Derek is all teasing like you got a date pretty boy ? Thank you so much ❤️

Hi my love! Now I just adore this idea and I hope I do it justice! (Also, my sweets, I tried out something new with the writing style at the start, I'd love some feedback on that and the fic as a whole) warning: reader is called princess but gender isn't mentioned.

"I wanna hear"

Spencer Reid x Reader

Spencer Reid, ever the genius, is entirely clueless to social cues.

Oh good lord that boy just doesn't pick up on it!... is what you would say if you didn't adore his rambling tangents. Jesus, all of it is perfect. All of him is perfect. But, not everyone sees the beauty in art. apparently.

"Reid, thanks for that, anyways." Derek starts to cut Spencer's rambling off, you watch Spencer's face fall, and it's entirely heartbreaking. You gently grab his hand "Keep talking Spence" you smile and he looks confused. "really?" he asks, you nod. "yes, I wanna hear." you assure him as you clasp his hand between both of yours, his eyes light up. He rambles on about the connection between 8 different serial killers with a specific disease and how despite them never meeting their killings looked almost like copycats. In all honesty half the words are out of your vocabulary and the rest of them are spoken to fast for you to pick up on details, but you listen to every single sound that makes it past his lips, even if you don't process it all.

"so they never met? did they know about the other killers?" you ask, resting your chin on your hand and he shakes his head "no, they didn't know about each other until they were arrested" he answers. "Hm, that's really interesting spencer, like, that's super cool- well not cool but you know what I mean", he chuckles "Yea, I know what you mean."

You were smiling bright enough to light up a room as you ask your next question. "Do you want to hang out sometime? Like after work... just us?". He nods "I'd love that."

There's a small gasp through the bullpen after his response. You and Spencer look over and see the team eavesdropping.

"Pretty boy and the Princess are goin' out!" Derek cheers, the girls laugh and you and Spencer blush.

Its going to take a while for the teasing to stop, surely, but it's all worth it for Spencer.. at this point, you might call anything worth it if it's for Spencer.

It's short and sweet but I just adore this <3

@the-phantom-author - Who promised to hype me up

@thesockbehindthewashingmachine - Who will hype me up without a promise

[itsmarsss]

chicks dig musicians, kid [Miguel Diaz x Reader] (Cobra Kai)

[~from the vault~]

There's something going on between the two of you, Miguel is sure of it. But where does he go from there? How is he supposed to ask you out? So he goes to Johnny for advice.

Word count: 1,780

Warnings: literally nothing its so cute and sweet and innocent yay past mars

[. . .]

Things had been different for a while now. He could just feel it.

Miguel didn’t know when things changed, when the platonic teasing turned into borderline flirting, when his eyes started to dart from your eyes to your lips in the middle of conversation, when you started to look away with an embarrassed smile when he stared at you for too long, when he started to barely listen when you talked because all he could think about was how close you were and how easy it would be for him to kiss you right that second and how much he really, really wanted to do it but never did- but he was 100% sure he wasn’t imagining it.

He was well-aware of the fact that his love-struck brain could just be exaggerating everything, and, sure, he was a bit dense, but he wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew something was definitely going on, to the point of getting teased about it to no end by his friends: the newfound tension and the sudden awkwardness were pretty hard to miss.

The thing is: where do you go from there? Miguel has always been pretty straight-forward (even though he didn’t really look the part) so why was it so hard to find a good moment to ask you out when he was pretty positive you’d say yes?

Waiting made it far, far worse. He thought maybe he’d give himself time to figure out a way to do it. Hey, maybe you’d even end up asking him out first!

You didn’t.

Every day that passed he found himself staring more and more, lost in daydreams of kissing you, making you laugh, kissing you, holding your hand, kissing you.

Was this why you’d been avoiding him the past few days? He wasn’t dumb. It’s not like you were outright taking every opportunity you could to get away from him, but also it’s not like you were exactly taking any opportunities to hang out just the two of you like you used to do. Was he being too weird? Too pushy? Oh god, was he acting like a creep?

Standing back was not like him at all, and it was not doing him any favors- he had to know once and for all.

So he went to his Sensei for advice.

Johnny was holding a beer can when he opened his door. Not an unusal sight. “What d´ya want?”

“I really need your help but you can’t make fun of me.”

“Can’t promise that,” he replied with a smile, and made way for Miguel to enter, which he did. “Ya want a beer?” he asked as Miguel sat down on the couch.

“No. Please focus."

Sensei Lawrence just shrugged, standing by the kitchen counter. “So what is it? Your mom find your porn or something?”

“What- no! Why is that the first thing you thought of?”

“Happened to me,” He shrugged again, nonchalantly.

Miguel made a face in disgust. “Please let’s not talk about that when you’re dating my mom.”

“Jesus, kid, what are you, a nun?” Johnny laughed and took a sip of his beer. “Okay, whatever. What happened?”

“I’m really into this girl.”

“She hot?”

Miguel made a point to ignore the question. “She’s really cool and I think she likes me too.”

“Is. She. Hot?”

“Sensei- yeah. Okay, she’s really hot.”

“Nice.”

“Can I go on now?”

“Sure.”

“Okay so we’re friends, right. And we’ve been friends for some time now but I feel like we’ve been flirting? But never really doing anything about it. But I want to.”

“So? Just ask her out.”

“I know that! But I don’t know how to.”

“Thought you were more of a ‘just ask’ kind of guy.”

“I- I am! It’s just, I don’t know what it is, it’s easier when you don’t know them that well, you know? Cause like why would she not make a move after all this time? Maybe she just wants to stay friends. And then if she rejects me then what?”

“Then why would she flirt with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who is it?”

“What, I’m not telling you-”

“Y/N?” He guessed, and Miguel wasn’t fast enough to hide his surprise.

“How’d you know?”

“Guessed. But your face made it pretty obvious, maybe work on that.”

“Okay, what do I do?”

“Look, you know what you gotta do? You gotta not be a pussy. Make her like a giant fucking poster and ask her out at school, girls love that shit.”

“Um I don’t think she’d like that. Seems like... pretty embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing if you’re not a pussy about it.”

“Do you have any… less public option?”

“Oh you want a real intimate option?’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively, which was an extremely disturbing scene to witness.

“No- oh my god, please never do that again.”

Johnny laughed. “Just play her a song or some shit. Set the mood. Then ask her out. Chicks dig musicians, kid. That's a fact."

“But I don’t play anything. Or sing.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that? Now come on I got things to do,” Johnny motioned for him to get up, and he did so.

“You do?” Miguel asked, not really believing it.

“Don’t question me!”

Miguel put his arms up in surrender, walking out the door.

The rest of his day was spent desperately trying to learn the chords to some song he’d seen you listen to once on his mom’s old ukulele. It wasn’t going well. He looked at the time, 7:43 PM- it was getting late. He would have to make do with what he had. He wasn’t delaying this any longer, he was doing this tonight.

He took about 15 minutes to figure out what hoodie to wear and 10 more to fix his hair. He walked up to your house with the ukulele in hand, feeling nothing short of ridiculous. He wondered if maybe he should have waited until he was a little better at playing. Still, he kept on walking until he reached your front door.

To his luck, you were the one to open it. Thank fucking god. “Miguel?" You raised an eyebrow, a little confused at the scene in front of you. He hadn't texted telling you he was coming over and you couldn't for the life of you come up with a reason for the ukulele he held in his hand since you knew he'd never ever played one in his life.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Uh, what are you doing here?” It wasn’t rude, just curious.

Maybe he should have warned you he was coming.

“Uh I was just- wondering if I could show you something.” He held up the instrument in his hand.

“Like a song?”

“Well, yeah. If you want.”

“I didn’t know you played.” Actually, you knew he did not play.

“I didn’t. I uh. Picked it up today. Just wanted to show it to you."

“Okay, yeah. Come in.” You were still visibly confused. Maybe he should have planned this better. Or, like, at all. You made way for him to get in and closed the door behind you when he did. You walked up in front of him, taking his free hand and leading him upstairs. “Come on.”

You entered your bedroom and sat on the edge of your bed, Miguel hesitantly doing the same, sitting down right beside you.

“Okay. So what are you gonna play?”

“Uh you know that song you like? The one you were listening to when you were training after practice that day? That Hawk was like telling you to skip and all?”

You laughed at the memory. “I guess.”

“Yeah that’s uh- that’s what I’m gonna play.”

He was feeling way too self-aware now. Maybe coming over to perform a song he was yet to learn correctly was not his brightest idea. What was he thinking?

“So?” You pulled him out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat. There was no way he could back down now. Shit.

He played the first chords and started singing. It all sounded deeply, extremely wrong, and he knew it. It was terribly bad, pure chicken scratch. If voice cracks had voice cracks, that’s what they’d sound like. He barely got through the first chorus before stopping himself from any further embarrassment. He’d made a point of not looking at you while he played, but finally mustered up the courage to after he stopped.

He couldn’t say you looked too impressed. Just… amused, at best.

“I started learning it this afternoon, so…” he sheepishly tried explaining himself, scratching th back of his neck in embarrassment. What the fuck did you just do, idiot?

“Oh it’s uh- it’s pretty- pretty good for something you learned in just a few hours.”

“You can say it’s terrible, I just wanted to- I just wanted to show you. I picked the song ‘cause you like it so much.”

“It’s not terrible! It’s a great song. And it’s pretty cool that you learned it because of me.”

There was an awkward silence that followed. This moment, right here, right after he finished playing, was when Miguel imagined he would be asking you out. You'd say yes, maybe you’d kiss him if he was lucky. But the Miguel in his head had done a great job with the song. The real him… well, the real him obviously hadn’t.

“Why did you wanna show it to me?"

He was taken aback by the question. He decided he’s best be honest, now that he knew he officially had no chance with you. Acording to Sensei Lawrence, chicks dig musicians, and he clearly was no musician whatsoever. He sighed. “Honestly?”

You nodded, prompting him to continue.

“I really, really wanted to ask you out. But I didn’t know how to do it, so I went to Sensei for advice. I know. He said girls like musicians so I thought I'd do something cool and play you a song you liked. It obviously didn't work,” he laughed, defeated.

You were quiet for a moment, processing what he just told you. “You learned a song I liked just to ask me out?”

“I know, it’s dumb, and obviously I ruined the mood with the bad singing, but-”

You kissed him. He was rambling like an idiot and he’d just given you the worst ever serenade of all time and you kissed him! He wasn't even able to react, just looking at you with his eyes wide as you pulled away as quickly as you'd leaned in. You kissed him, you kissed him, you kissed him, holy shit!

“I thought-”

“It's cute that you'd do that just to ask me out. And you didn't ruin the mood. Now ask me out!” You said, excited, now sporting a dumb smile he thought was just the cutest thing ever. Could you please just look at him like that all the time?

Miguel couldn’t help but mirror your excitement, grinning like an idiot. Damn him if he didn't do as you asked. “Do you wanna go out with me?”

“As long as you don’t ever try to serenade me ever again.”

“You said it wasn’t so bad!”

“I lied."

“You still kissed me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

[. . .]

A/N: while i don't have what im currently writing for miguel out yet here's a really old little thingy i have of him as a little treat! it's cute and sweet to make up for all the sin of the current wip <3

[shotmrmiller]

cw: age gap, reader is mid 20s, call off the pitch forks. f!reader, smut:)

dbf!price babyyyy

dbf!price met you on your 18th birthday for the first time, and he thought nothing of you. Just a slip of woman, if he can even call you that.

you are just simon's precious daughter.

and it stayed that way for years. he came over a lot, mostly to get away from his nagging wife and occasionally he'd see you whenever you were home from college.

again, nothing other than polite.

until one day, the guys had come over for some beer and sports. price had walked into the kitchen to get himself another beer when he noticed you on your tip toes trying to get a box of cereal from the very top shelf of the pantry.

he chuckled under his breath as he heard you mutter a string of curses when your fingertips pushed the box closer to the wall and decided to intervene.

his footsteps were silent as he approached you from behind, and easily reached for the cereal, grabbing it with a large hand.

"Oh! Thank you, daddy! I don't know why you insist on-"

you choke on your spit when you turn around and realize that it's not your dad that helped you, but his friend. his captain.

a bright, rosy hue spreads across your cheeks as your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

"I- oh! oh my god i, listen, jesus, i'm so sorry mr. price i don't- i thought it was my dad, obviously. i'm so sorry god how embarrassing-"

you're babbling but john hears nothing other than the word you so sweetly said on repeat inside of his head.

daddy, daddy, daddydaddydaddy-

"-right, mr. price?"

he's snapped back to reality with your question.

"yeah, love, i'm alright. I was just thinking if i turned off the stove before coming over or not."

thank god for your naïveté because you take him for his word, and ramble about how it happens to the best of us, good thing that stoves are now electric and whatever other nonsense.

he hands you the now-indented box of cereal and swiftly steps away from you.

"i'll tell simon that he's got to be mindful of the short occupants of his house," john playfully teases.

the peal of laughter you let out sends a jolt straight to his stiffening cock.

"i'm not short! it's not my fault all of you guys are just so big!"

oh sweetheart, you have no idea how big he is.

he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from thinking about you and the pussy he undoubtedly knows is just so tight, scorching hot and arousal sweet as honey-

"i'll see ya later, mr. price!"

he blinks rapidly, smiles and watches you walk out of the kitchen and turn the corner.

john grabs himself from outside his trousers, palm shifting his now fully erect, thick length around to hide it as best he can.

damn.

he scratches the side of his bearded face, and pops open the fridge, finally grabbing a beer.

god fucking damn.

later in the evening, once he's sobered up enough, he goes home and he fucks his wife with renewed vigor, until she's a sobbing mess under him, clawing at his broad back with her nails, and her walls spasming around him, drenching him with her slick.

john comes violently, black dots peppering his vision and a guttural groan clawing its way out of his throat, your name on the very tip of his tongue.

he doesn't hold his wife as she falls asleep just as how he left her- naked, body cooling with sweat, cunt full of his spend.

this mutton is not the lamb he wants.

[wileys-russo]

Alessia, “Keep talking, your voice helps me sleep.” ❣️

keep talking II a.russo

"i'm headed to bed baby." alessia felt your arms wrap around her neck as she blinked a few times, the back of her eyes aching from staring at her monitor for so long as the blonde exhaled and leaned back into you.

" i'll be five minutes? i just need to submit this and i'm done for the whole weekend." your girlfriend promised as you nodded in understanding, pecking her cheek and withdrawing your arms from around her neck.

alessia sighed again as she rubbed her eyes tiredly, having stared at this essay for so long now it was seeming more like gibberish than english.

when she signed up for this course she knew it would be a tremendous amount of extra work but she was ready for it, she'd already mapped out a schedule of hours dedicated to her studies among her other commitments before she'd even finished her enrollment.

but what she hadn't been able to properly prepare for was how exhausting that extra work would feel.

alessia knew all too well that without you she'd have already dropped out and long given up on trying to balance everything, dangerously close to toppling over the edge.

but then there was you, her lifeline, the one who steered her away from the ledge without even trying even sometimes just with something as simple as a smile.

you who picked up all of the slack, who got up early and did all of her washing to ensure that she had clean uniforms, had dinner ready and on the table when she got home late.

you who had fresh flowers on the counter every weekend, who would go out to do the shopping and always come home with some sort of sweet treat to perk up alessia's spirits when she'd spent the day locked up studying.

you, her person.

finally clicking submit alessia groaned quietly with relief, snapping her laptop shut as her monitor went black and the room darkened, only illuminated by the lamp on her left which she reached over and flicked off.

"jesus." the blonde mumbled as she stood and a sharp twinge of pain shot through her neck and back. "stupid shitty chair." she huffed, kicking it with a glare and stretching out.

"hi gorgeous." you smiled at your girlfriend as she finally appeared, closing the bedroom door behind her with a sigh. "all submitted?" you questioned as she gave you a tired nod, slipping into bed as you marked your page in your book and put it aside.

"i'll turn the lights off then shall i babe?" you teased as your girlfriend patted your leg, eyes already closed. with a smile you rolled out of bed, flicking off the lights and returning, alessia immediately latching onto you.

"how was your day? tell me about it." the blonde asked softly, head resting on your chest as her long legs tangled with your own, one hand slipped up the inside of your shirt needing to feel as much of her skin against yours as she could.

so you did, recounting fondly the day you'd spent away from her and with some school friends, dragged around shopping for your best friends wedding dress, even though she was yet to be proposed to.

"she's always been one to go for what she wants." alessia chuckled, eyes closed and voice nothing above a soft rasp as you tangled a hand in her hair.

"you're exhausted my love, time for sleep." you smiled fondly, scratching gently at her scalp with your nails as she exhaled deeply into your neck.

"keep talking, your voice helps me sleep." your girlfriend requested tiredly, hand moving up and down your side as you melted. "do you want me to talk about space?" you smiled in amusement, the blonde always teasing that you were far too invested in the topic and that she'd gladly send you off to live in mars.

"yeah, that works." alessia agreed with a nod as you kissed her forehead. "because its so boring it'll send you to sleep?" you joked, met with silence which was enough of an answer. "less its not boring!" you protested quietly, feeling her smile against your chest as you jostled her a little and she whined.

"sure baby, talking about moon rocks is super interesting."