#they will absolutely fucking drain you in your moments of need.

[laylaysdelusions]

Take care p1

When a star basketball player and a stripper meet under true intentions and a lie 

A/n: my first series!

The club lights gleam down on her dark hair as she moves across the stage, swaying her hips to the sensual music playing in the background. Her bra will hopefully soon be stuffed with 100 dollar bills. The club is in a decent part of town, usually the rich ones come here for their show. Tonight has been slow so far in terms of actual payers not just lookers. Riley feels the first real sack of cash thrown at her heel.

Her eyebrows softly crease when she realizes it’s 1k and she softly smiles. She looks in front of her to see who had thrown it. To her surprise it’s a young blonde woman, not the typical older man she comes across here. The woman makes eye contact with her for a moment and it stops Riley in her tracks. She’s got the face of a sculpted goddess, with her long blonde hair and angular features.

Riley tosses her a wink and continues her movements across the floor with the cash now stuffed in her purple bralette. About an hour passes and a few 50 dollar stacks are obtained but not much else. Her shift is almost over but she made 1k, that’s more than enough to pay for a good meal tonight and her bills in a few days.

11 pm swings around fast and soon Riley’s moving off the stage and into the dressing rooms. “Hey baby” Kelsey says. Kelsey is a couple years older than Riley and shes much more experienced with the whole stripping idea. She taught Riley how to make the most money fall at her feet and it’s definitely made her more comfortable around the club and the other girls. Riley responds with a “hey girl!” I mean this isn’t the greatest job but she’s made it home for now.

“How much ya get?” The redhead smirks. “1,200” Kelsey’s jaw falls open in shock. “Ry how hard were they, damn” it takes Riley a second to realize what she means and she slaps her shoulder. “What the hell kels” she rolls her eyes. “just saying!”

“It was actually a young woman that gave me the 1k” Riley says with a proud smile. “Really?? That’s rare” Kelsey’s face looks questionably at her. “Yeah, she was stunning and blonde, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen” Riley says as the mirror light shines on her smooth brown skin. “That could’ve been your soulmate bae” Kels says bursting out into a laugh. “Definitely not she was way too rich to actually fuck wit a stripper”

“Well damn you’re probably right, ima head out for the night I’ll see you Friday, take care of yourself for me ok?” The woman’s red curls swing side to side as she reaches the door handle. “Good night see you soon” Riley responds back with a sigh. Now it’s time for her to head out. She pulled her coat over her shoulders and reapplied her peachy lip gloss. Her undereye bags show as she looks at herself in the full body mirror, she’s drained.

When she passes the bar area she notices something, more like someone, the same woman who she definitely wouldn’t forget. She seems to be arguing with the bartender. She stops in her tracks and suddenly they make eye contact. Riley feels the woman’s piercing blue eyes stare directly into her deep brown ones. It makes her shudder.

The blonde tells the bartender to hold on a second and starts to walk towards her. “Hey” her voice is deep and smooth. “Hey?” Riley replies, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one I gave that stack to right?” She says so confidently it makes her brain twist. “Y-yeah” and for the first time in so long she’s stuttering. “You were and are absolutely stunning, you know that?” The woman says and it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Look I don’t do that kind of work if that’s what you’re going to ask for” Riley doesn’t need that tonight. “No- never! I wasn’t meaning to sound creepy, I just wanted to actually talk to you” the way she says it sounds genuine and she can feel it. “Well..sure” I mean what’s the worst that could happen Riley doesn’t have much of a life anyways. “I’m Alex” the woman tells her and they both subtly smile at each other. “I’m Riley”

“If you want I can buy you a drink, it’s on me” Riley agrees to a wine although most would call it boring Alex called it a good choice. They start a gentle conversation and the words naturally come out her lips which isn’t normal for Riley. She’s always been a little bit shy or awkward. In high school she stayed to herself because people were jerks and when she was in college classes she was too busy to enjoy the campus life. Now she’s got Kelsey and that’s all.

“So you in school?” Paige says and Riley shakes her head while she takes a sip of the wine. “Nope, dropped out freshman” the curly head’s face shines under the club lights delicately, looking beautiful as ever. Paige feels terrible and she knows it’s wrong but she can’t mess up the both of them with her reputation. Riley’s brown eyes look into Paige’s ever so often and it makes her heart glow. ‘Paige stop it’ the blonde says to herself.

“Hm what were you going for?” She asks, tasting her tequila shot. “Psychology” Riley answers, hoping not to be judged. Telling people that usually results in a rude comment about how she’s thrown her intelligence away for such a low job. “Oo that’s so cool! I love women with book and street smarts” Paige smirks making Riley’s body flush. She’s not used to embarrassing herself like this. I guess it’s easier to talk to men when you’re not attracted to them like women.

“Oh be quiet, it didn’t get me very far clearly” she sighs, motioning to the room surrounding them. “I mean hey at least you’re working” she shrugs to let Riley know she doesn’t mind. “It might not be the most glamorous job but you’re getting yo cash that’s good” Riley laughs and nods her head. She’s honestly mesmerized; she’s never seen a woman quite like this. She’s amazing with her words and her attitude on top of the looks.

The both of them are unaware of the subtle pass of time and suddenly it’s 1 am. “Oh shit I get home” Paige tells Riley when she realizes that Kk is gonna be on her ass about staying that late at a strip club. I mean what was she supposed to do? Kk invited her girlfriend over for the night. Trust and believe Paige didn’t want to be in the dorm during that.

“I better get going too, can I have your number?” Paige’s eyes light up at the ask. “Yeah of course!” They exchange numbers and say their goodbyes. “Goodnight Alex” Riley says, oblivious. “Goodnight” the player says back. On Paige’s drive home she felt the guilt start to eat at her. Really though, is a girl like Riley going to stick around? Probably not, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal anyway.

However on Riley’s drive home she can’t stop imagining what ‘Alex’ must actually feel. Who wants to have a genuine conversation with a stripper? Not many so Alex must have felt something. Riley rubs her temples as she pulls into her apartment parking spot. She can already hear her neighbors in an aggressive argument.

Her apartment is a madhouse because of her neighbors and the walls are thin so that definitely doesn’t help the issue. “I won’t be getting much sleep..” Riley tells herself as she sits her bag down on her bedside. She wipes her makeup off in her bathroom and just looks at her reflection for a moment. She needs a break from this mess but she can’t afford one at least for now.

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”

[prael]

Rivalry

Kinktember Day 8: Hate Sex

(G)I-DLE Shuhua x male reader smut

words: 4,799 Kinktember Masterlist

School rivalries can get fierce, but none as fierce as this one.

It's been drilled in since the very first day, no matter what class you were in. From math tournaments to football games, these schools live and die by their standing. If one of them wins, the entire school wins. If they lose, then the school loses with them.

The fun in this rivalry has long since been drained from the system, replaced with spiteful desperation and a toxic desire. The sort of thing that has spilt well beyond the competition hall or the sports field, so much so that local authorities have had to step in for the safety and peace of mind of the students who might've gotten hurt in the chaos.

Needless to say, no individual is really to blame—or maybe all of them are.

You're coming off the back of a crushing victory at the start of this year's Summer Cup, bringing home an early advantage that, to you at least, has meant you could finally take a breath of fresh air, relax, and support your school the rest of the way. You had been chosen for the bits of media coverage (some of this actually makes national TV) such as the post-game interview spots, something not particularly fun, but something that gives you a chance to enjoy the win and rub it in the face of the rivals. Meaning that you were late to the ice bath and the shower and you're now walking through the corridor alone, while everyone is outside awaiting the next game.

Everyone except her.

There's a girl, wearing an outfit in the colours of your rival. Her yellow (really short) shorts, and white top, rolled up to just below her bust.

"You're in the wrong place," you call out as she walks closer, but she says nothing and gives a casual side-eye as she tries to walk on by. This pisses you off, so you move to block her. "I said you're in the wrong fucking place."

"Funny," she replies through that contemptuous smirk is there. She doesn't even try to mask it. "Since you're the one that's in my way. Get lost."

"See that?" You point to the wall, to the crest of your school. "This is our building. You aren't supposed to be here. What? Can't you read?"

The girl, having fully shifted her attention to you at this point, folds her arms beneath her chest. "Oh, grow up. It's an athletics competition. This is an athletics centre. You can take your tribalism elsewhere, bud."

The nickname and condescending tone, the absolute nonchalance that this girl seems to be able to project when speaking to you...it does something. It sends a twitch through your fists. "My tribalism? You're the one sporting your colours in our building."

The girl makes a brief, sarcastic sound. "I hate you all the same, but that doesn't mean you can deny me using the toilet in here. Move."

"Why don't you walk your pretentious arse back out the door where you came from, find the one next door and use it instead? Just seems like some foolish excuse to come in here and sabotage us, you people have a track record of this shit."

"Yeah, or," she responds, giving the most fake smile, before taking a step forward into your space. "Maybe I really need to use a toilet. Ever consider that, smart guy?"

This close, you can really take a good look at her. From her petite and lithe, athletic figure, to her soft skin, and messy ponytail. Her demeanour, too, along with her hazelnut eyes and pouting lips. It takes a moment, but soon, you recognise her. This is Shuhua. Maybe the most vocal of your rivals. Known for her antagonistic behaviour, her temper, her endless mocking and recently her frustration with always coming second.

"I know you."

"Congratu-fucking-lations, now step aside unless you want me to piss down your leg."

You grit your teeth at her crude words, "Toilet huh? Okay. Use it, but I'm escorting you there and then back out of the building. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"I don't know, I'm a pretty skinny girl and you're a strong guy, maybe you could throw me pretty far..." Shuhua says as she steps past you. "You can wait by the door, fucking pervert."

You roll your eyes but don't dignify the insult with a response. Instead, you make sure to walk closely by her side and lead her to the ladies toilet. "You've got five minutes."

"Oh no. So scared," she drones before you swing the door open for her. She's about to step in when she stalls and glances up at you. "Sure you trust me? What if I... Oh, what if I leave the tap running and waste your water? How's that for sabotage?" Shuhua absolutely drenches her words in sarcasm.

You pull the door closed, forcing her to step inside without waiting for a reply. Once more, your fist twitches at the annoyance.

A couple of minutes pass before the door finally swings open and you watch as the girl saunters back out with a self-satisfied smirk. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Want to come in and check the taps?"

That, funnily enough, does make you laugh, if a little humourlessly. "Don't you ever get sick of yourself? Actually, scratch that, that was stupid to ask, of course not," you mutter. "You know, I almost feel sorry for your school. Having to deal with you must be a real fucking burden. Hey, what's that they say, one bad apple and all that."

"Ugh, the fucking ego," Shuhua shakes her head as if she can't believe the nonsense. "You're even worse in person." She sighs and gestures in a bid for you to lead the way back towards the exit.

"Sounds like jealousy to me," you retort and start walking, and she follows behind. "Doesn't feel great, does it?"

You don't have to look, her exasperated scoff speaks volumes. "Wow. Is this really what your school thinks? Of course, it is, why would I ever have thought differently. You are all so fucking alike. All stuck in this same, boring headspace. And for the record, no, it isn't 'jealousy'. There is no jealousy here because I, unlike you, can pull my head out of my arse."

She's nothing if not stubborn, and while you know she's trying to get a rise out of you, you bite, "You're all the same at that fucking school, this is who they raised. Vocal, obnoxious, bitter. Too much time caring about how you look rather than results—"

A door slams behind you. You turn. The door to the locker room. Shuhua has disappeared.

You rush into the door, throwing it open. Empty, or so it seems, but she has to be in here somewhere. You walk down the left row of lockers, taking slow, quiet steps. Listening, hoping to hear the smallest bit of movement. The crunch of feet, a giggle, the slight jangle of coins.

Nothing.

You're approaching the end of the row of lockers and nothing so far. You get right up against the corner, readying to quickly round it when you think you hear a small breath from just the other side.

Three, two, one, and you launch yourself around the corner.

Shuhua is right there, waiting, she grabs you by the shoulders and pins you against the lockers with a crash, before smiling sweetly.

"What the fuck are you doing—"

You're immediately hushed by the feeling of something soft pressed against your lips, followed by the press of a hand against your groin and a thigh, nestled right between yours.

It takes a moment. You're not quite sure how to process this. It's instinct more than anything that makes your hands come to grasp and clutch Shuhua's ass firmly. She grins and lets out an approving hum, slipping her tongue in while squeezing harder against your groin and getting another equally pleasurable response of you tightening your grip on her.

There's a few moments of this, kissing, back against the lockers, Shuhua against your chest. Then, your tongue meets hers, and she lets a soft moan into your mouth. A moment of weakness that allows you to shove her backwards against the wall with a thump. It takes less than a moment and you're both back at it again, clawing away at each other. Your body presses her into the wall, lips parting before briefly, quickly reconnecting. Shuhua doesn't resist, and not long after, you've parted the kiss, she's moved her lips to your neck and you're running a hand down her thigh.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you growl into her ear as your fingertips approach the edge of those frustratingly short shorts. "Did your little brain figure out you can't win these events so you have to find other ways to know what winning feels like? If you can't beat them, fuck them?"

The girl pulls herself from your neck and takes a fist full of your hair. "You piece of shit," she seethes. "Like you aren't desperate for this pussy."

You aggressively push your hand up under her shorts and she squeaks as you clutch the flesh of her ass in a tight grip. You pull her and she raises a leg around you. "This pussy? You have got to be kidding me. Have you seen the cheerleaders at our school?"

She uses her legs to push you aside, forcing you to swap positions with her. She has you against the wall now, and her hand has dipped down the front of your shorts. She's grinning, groping you in a tight, frustratingly wonderful, fist. "Bunch of bimbos who fall to their knees as soon as you turn on the charm."

"I didn't even have to turn on the charm for you. What does that say about you?"

She takes a firmer grip on your length and a loud groan escapes from deep within you. Shuhua can't help herself, her lips quirking into that insufferable smirk, her eyes shining. "It says that you couldn't take your eyes off my ass the entire walk down that corridor, you fucking animal. You were practically salivating. Just like you're doing now."

She uses her free hand to swipe her thumb against the corner of your mouth.

"Pretty sure that's yours," you tell her before you slide your hands up her exposed sides and slip your fingers under her shirt, pulling it up and she quickly raises her free arm so you can slip it over it and over her head, leaving it around the arm still buried into your trousers.

There she is, bra and tits on show and being fucking annoyingly hot.

Even if she doesn't stop you from undressing her, she still berates you for it, "Look at you, can't wait to touch them, can you. Are you really that simple? See a pair of tits and you get hornier than a fucking dog in heat?"

"So says the girl who can't get her hand off my cock," you reply, hand slipping beneath her bra and your fingers closing around her nipple.

She raises an eyebrow and looks down at her chest, "Did I say you could touch me there?"

"So now we're talking consent, Miss 'Grab-cock-ask-questions-later'?" you snarl, fingers rolling the nipple in between them. "A bit late, don't you think?"

Shuhua's really stroking you now, even with limited space inside your shorts, she's able to use her thumb to circle around your sensitive tip with each jerk. "Yeah, well. I didn't sign up to get molested by a dickhead like you."

"Right back at you."

Shuhua laughs a little then cracks a wicked smile, one that is as seductive as it is contemptuous. The girl shrugs, reaches a hand behind her and unclasps her bra. She takes her hand out of your shorts and lets it fall off with her shirt. Bare little tits with stiff nipples stare at you—and you stare back. "Never seen a pair before? Or just not a pair on a girl as hot as me?"

"I've seen better."

"Yeah, sure you have sweetie." Shuhua tugs at the waist of your shorts and underwear until she pushes them down to your knees. "You know..." she starts as her gaze drops down to your aching shaft. "There's a rumour at our school that all the guys in your school are decidedly average down there, and are real bad at using them," she looks you in the eye with an eager smile, biting her lip.

"Want to know what they say about girls at your school?" You grab a hand full of her tit in a tight grasp and squeeze her flesh firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp. "They say all the girls are sluts but are fucking terrible at giving head. Funny, since all you seem to do is run your mouth." You push her back until it's your turn to have her pinned against the lockers. "Here, I'll show you how you can put that mouth to better use."

Pushing down on her shoulders, you guide her to her knees. "Hey, I never said that I—" You jerk your hips and you hit her on the cheek with your length. "The fuck?"

"You've been licking your lips since you pulled my shorts down. Stop pretending this isn't what you wanted." You rub yourself against her cheek.

"I should tear this ugly cock right off," Shuhua says as she wraps her fingers around the base of it. Then, before you have time to register it, her mouth is already on you, engulfing your head. The sudden wetness around your most delicate part, her tongue dancing along it, the suction her mouth produces; it's hard to comprehend all of it. What she says and what her mouth is doing contradict one another.

Then her head begins to bob, her lips firmly wrapped around your cock. As she sucks, she simultaneously strokes it, making sure no bit of you remains unserviced. It doesn't take long for her to build a tempo, and it doesn't take long for you to want more.

Your hand locks around her ponytail and she shivers when you pull at it. She glares at you but doesn't complain and continues working your length. Her mouth feels absolutely exquisite—warm, wet, and tight. With every stroke, the desire to be buried inside her gets stronger. You groan, moving her faster on your shaft.

"Rip it off, huh? Look at you sucking me off like the needy little whore you are. Just look at you."

Shuhua moans into you and she keeps on sucking. The vibrations the noise creates are an absolute pleasure. Your hips buck and the motion takes the girl by surprise, who immediately gags as you hit the back of her mouth. She immediately goes to draw back but the hand locked onto her ponytail refuses her release.

"Where the hell do you think you're going," you force your hips forward.

And you're off. You begin facefucking this annoying girl, who struggles and chokes every time you go balls-deep into her mouth. Still, not once does she try to push your hips, or her teeth to bite. Not once does her head make any gesture to signal that she actually wants you to stop, or even ease off. It seems she's determined to prove that she's not only better than all your cheerleaders, or your classmates, but she's also determined to prove that she's capable of taking everything you give, and all without needing to ask for respite.

"You're so much prettier when you aren't talking," you taunt her.

As a response, she stabs her nails into your ass. Hard. The pain makes you roar, both in surprise and anger. Shuhua simply responds by sucking you harder.

As fun as this is, the urge to ravage her more is still incredibly high, even if that means pulling out of the confines of the girl's sinful mouth. You give it a good couple of minutes before you finally relent and let her go. You pull your hips back and Shuhua instantly coughs, splutters and falls backwards onto her rear.

"The fuck do you think you're doing? I'm not done with that. Get it back here." She spits those words at you angrily, looking almost disgusted, with spit drooling down her chin and coating her lips.

You look at her, hunched over the floor, panting, in only her little yellow shorts. Looking more beautiful and desirable than you ever remember her doing on camera or out on the track. You fall on your knees in front of her and push your hand into her shorts, causing her breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate.

"Well aren't you eager?" she hums, letting out a husky purr as your fingertips tease the delicate lips of her entrance. "What's up, couldn't take any more of my mouth? We're you going to cum so quickly? I know you've never had anyone quite like me before."

"Not even close to cumming," you sneer. "In fact, let's get one thing clear. I don't have standards as low as the boys in your school, I don't just cum at the sight of some tits and the feel of your trashy mouth." Your finger slips past her lips and a surprised moan escapes her throat. "God you're fucking soaked."

"Trashy?" she scoffs and slowly rolls her body in response to your intruding digit. "Should have seen your face with my lips around you, you fucking adored it, dickhead. If you want disappointment, try being in my shoes. This pathetic excuse for fingering? It's like when I did it for the first time."

"Yeah?" You drive a second finger into her and curl your fingers as you begin to stand, forcing her to follow you to her feet. You push your body against hers, pinning her to the locker, squishing those tits against you.

She lets out a taunting, "Yeah" this time, huskily, while arching her back a little, raising those beautiful breasts. "And my first time was real bad. I couldn't even make myself cum. Maybe we do have something in common." While she's talking, you're using your other hand to free her shorts and panties from her hips, sliding them over that juicy ass that you press against the cold metal locker. "I doubt you have ever made a girl c—"

You move fast and hard. Your fingers curled into her cunt, palm pressed against her clit, thrusting into her, and your eyes fall right onto hers, piercing, right into her soul. Her eyes widen with shock and then quickly darken and roll back. Those sweet, vicious lips of hers open as her mind is stunned into silence and her face contorts in pleasure. "Cute," you smirk, speeding up.

"I—I'm fine. You—" You push your other hand against her neck and you lean right against her ear.

"Shut your pretty mouth," you growl, you thrust your fingers deeper. Shuhua can't control the shocks of her own pleasure as she grows limp, her eyes rolling back, her moans coming out uncontrollably and rapidly. Her pussy is quivering, pulsing, you can feel her orgasm growing inside.

You push closer and kiss her as the muscles in her lower belly spasm, and she trembles as her cunt clamps down on your fingers. Shuhua pulls and scrapes her fingers along your skin. "Fucking god, fuck," the girl tries to continue to speak, but she is in total ecstasy. You drink the words directly from her mouth.

When you pull away, her body falls away from the locker, but you hold her tightly and dip a hand right under the curve of her ass, keeping her standing. You smirk triumphantly. "Who can't make you cum, bitch?" you tease her.

"Fuck you," Shuhua mumbles into your ear.

"Oh, you will." You shuffle across the room, finding the nearest bench and falling back onto it, pulling Shuhua onto you. "This is all you're good for, I bet." You pull your shirt over your head and then Shuhua throws herself against your naked body. Her tits press against your bare chest, and your stiff cock is trapped between your stomachs.

"We'll see," she breathes, running a hand into your hair and yanking at the locks as she pulls herself upright.

Your lips meet hers, a passionate and desperate union as the need to be in her consumes your every fibre. Tongues dance and your hands explore one another's bodies. Groping, stroking, touching, squeezing, grinding. When the kiss ends, she leans her forehead against yours, her eyes lidded.

"I hate you," you growl into the space in front of her.

"You too," she says, hoisting her hips up over your cock. With a mischievous and playful look in her eye, she furrows her eyebrows. "But you won't when this is over. You're gonna fucking worship me."

Before you can think to retort, she sinks herself onto you and, after what feels like a torturously long series of minutes of teasing and waiting, your bodies finally unite. Her inner walls are unbelievably hot and wet, squeezing down around you as if desperate for you to remain buried within her. Shuhua makes no attempts to hide her expression, her head rolls back and her teeth press down on her lip to conceal an enchanting whine. Her breasts press firmly into your hands as you hastily reach to cup them.

It doesn't take long at all for the pair of you to adjust, and you begin to pump your hips beneath hers. She's fucking down onto you too and it's a mess, there's no rhythm, two different bodies fighting to control a single movement, all the while searching desperately for the best result. You're on different wavelengths, and it's glorious, the chaos is addictive. It's raw fucking, and it's fucking amazing.

As frustrating and confusing as it is, nothing in the world feels better right now. Your chest heaving with every desperate gasp as she grinds onto you and around you, her lust-filled gaze still struggling to fight away your shared frustrations, it's raw and incredible.

"Oh God, right there." Shuhua squeezes her eyes shut and buries her forehead into the crook of your neck, her body shuddering and tensing with every push you make into her. Her pace on you is irregular, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. But as her orgasm grows inside of her, she sinks harder and deeper down upon you, taking you as deep as she possibly can and as often as you will give it to her.

"Bad at using it, am I?" you jest with a strained voice, slapping her ass hard as the impact causes it to ripple. "So bad that you're cumming already?"

"Tch." She goes to speak, to say something witty and defiant, but the sensation hits and her eyelids flutter, she twitches and lets out a shuddering moan as another climax hits her, "Ah fuck. God." Her nails dig into the skin of your chest, hard, painful enough that you hiss. "I'm doing all the work here."

"As you should be. Getting the privilege to ride my cock, the least you could do is break a sweat," you tell her.

She opens her eyes to flash you a glare and she slams her body down on your hips a bit faster. "You just know— that you couldn't— fuck as good as me."

Shuhua rides you mercilessly, completely lost in her desire to get herself off again. You enjoy the way her tits bounce and the way you can freely land a series of spanks on her bouncing ass.

"Guess that makes me more of a winner than you'll ever be." She tries to bite her lip, to hide it, but the pleasure that shines through her features is impossible to miss. She cums again, harder, no doubt about it.

This time, when the climactic orgasm subsides, she fights against her exhaustion with ragged, heavy breaths. You can see her lips twitch. Words escape her, so instead, she focuses on attempting to ride your cock even more mercilessly, just like earlier.

"Looks like you're all spent," you continue and push a hand onto her hip, steadying her before shoving her aside and away, pulling out. Shuhua topples and stumbles onto the floor, with her hands on the bench, breathing heavily. She's bent over the bench and her back glistens with a thin layer of sweat, her ass up in the air. Her body trembles with anticipation.

You don't hesitate. Not for a single second.

Before Shuhua can so much as open her mouth, you're behind her, your hands on her hips, her skin slick.

"Here's your loser's prize," you tell her as you slide back home, back inside her, feeling yourself plunged so deeply. Her thick ass presses against your hips and you spread it to push in deeper. You take in the beautiful view of her well-toned, petite back. The outline of every muscle stretches and flexes as she claws desperately at the benches as her pleasure is recharged, and restored, as though the fire is reignited with your touch. She lets out a soft little hiss, the briefest hint of displeasure that's quickly overcome by her passion for the raw sensation of sex. She relishes your presence and your length, and as she relaxes once more, she allows herself to sink into the rhythm of the rut.

You fuck her, taking pleasure in the way her body pushes back against yours, your balls slapping against her, and the obscene wet noises as you take her from behind. It's a dizzying crescendo, a desire so great that it cannot possibly be contained. To both yourself and Shuhua, desire cannot be denied, for you to cum inside her.

All you have left now is to pound the life out of this smug bitch's tight cunt, one hard, sharp, aggressive thrust after the other.

"Finally—" You raise a hand and bring it down upon the cheek of her arse. Hard, harsh, jiggling. The skin flushes and burns an angry red. She squeals in delight, she arches her body up as she takes the rough fucking. "Finally something useful has come out of your fucking school. One good pussy, just for me." Another slap. Another cry.

"Making me cum, is all you're good for. Just a cock," she spits back as her body shakes and bucks back onto your hardness, "One good fuck, just for me."

Shuhua straight-up shrieks when you wrap a fist up in her ponytail and yank her backwards, arching her spine. She cums again like this, and the hot rush of pleasure sends you spiralling off the edge yourself. It is utterly satisfying, the burning in your loins, and the immense pleasure that follows as your dick unloads in powerful spurt after powerful spurt. All of the tension evaporates, and all the negativity flows away as you find absolute pleasure. Shuhua takes what you give to her and it's absolute bliss.

For the longest moment, there's nothing but moans and grunts as you cum together before you let her collapse against the bench and you fall over her. Shuhua heaves beneath you, your warm fluids slowly leaking out around your exhausted cock. You suck in deep, gulping lungfuls of air as you grind out the final dying sparks of a well and truly mind-numbing orgasm.

"Still feel the same way about me now?" you groan. Your cock slips out, followed by a mixture of your combined orgasmic release.

Her head lifts. Hazel eyes focus and then fixate on yours. She almost manages to mask the grin, but she can't help it. Shuhua bites her bottom lip and glances at the space where, moments ago, your body had been conjoined.

"I still hate you. Don't think this means I'm suddenly a fangirl."

"Of course not, it's in your DNA to hate me. Just like how the sight of you still makes me sick." You place a kiss against the top of her spine and savour the brief hum of approval she gives.

"Uh-huh." Shuhua laughs. "Shame you couldn't last a little longer... I was just about to let you fuck my virgin ass." She lays her forehead against the cool wood of the bench, and you rest your head between her shoulder blades. "I guess my pussy is just too much for you."

"Or maybe," you hiss into her ear. "Maybe I'm saving that for the next time I catch your obnoxious ass around here."

"You think there will be a next time?"

"I know there will."

[runningwithscizzorz]

(1)Learn the rules before you break them + Gather proper references

(2) Understand what you want to break and how

(3) Can't do it? Find someone who can

(4) It's going to look really bad for a while

(5) Have fun with it!

(1) -Yes, I am that kind of artist. Yet, not in the conventional way. I encourage people to go in guns blazing when it comes to drawing something new, then coming out analyzing what they know, and what they need to learn more of right away.

-Here, I broke down the anatomical pieces of Nour and Narinder's face with the same labels so you guys can understand this weird invisible pattern that I follow in my work. Doing this with any animal you're attempting to draw greatly improves your line confidence when drawing different face shapes. Also understanding the biological function for why animals look a certain way helps you keep consistency.

(3) Time to throw any artistic guilt you have for heavily referencing people's art OUT THE WINDOW and start ANALYZING PEOPLE'S WORK YOU WANT TO BE LIKE✨ I've always done this, having a reference of someone else's amazing work right next to my own drawing so I can try and understand how they make their magic work! No shame, no embarrassment, nada. Pure, unadulterated will and spite that I would be just as good as the artist who made me so motivated and happy with their work! I couldn't figure out how to make Nour's face both sheep-like, and humanly expressive, so I looked at a LOT of Zootopia and old Disney art for help!

(2) With how I draw narilamb, I'm still working on it (as you can see) but I wanted to break Narinder's face to be fluffier and slimmer, while Nour's face would be shorter and flatter. If you look at it for too long, it's absolutely going to look weird, in the way that if you look at Anna from Frozen for too long she starts looking really weird. The anatomy isn't meant to be correct or consistent, it's meant to convey the emotion and energy I want out of the characters in that moment. If you're able to properly get that across, then you don't need to think about how broken something looks, as long as your eye is happy enough to trick your brain into thinking what you're seeing is canny.

(4) Yeah, I hate this part too. It's going to look like shit at first. I can't even look at my art from a few months ago when I was figuring out their designs... God, so fucking ugly. If it weren't for the shittiness of those drawings, I would have never gotten here! Wading through the "trust the process" stage always really sucks, but it's absolutely worth the relief of when you finally get something to look right.

(5) Art is work, yes. It's stressful, it's long, it's straining, its draining, it's exclaiming, blah blah blah. But, I try to keep my art FUN. If I find my artwork becoming slow as I depressingly drag my pen over my tablet, I'm failing. You MUST keep spirit and life in your work. The spirit of emptiness or the life of sadness can have a very meaningful place in art, but those can only exist with keeping work light, easy, and fun! If you're stressing how a specific thing looks or how you can't get something to look right no matter what, FUCK IT. Draw something to bring the flavor back in your work! I'm kind of rambling, but just, HAVE FUN!✨️ Be messy, scream, laugh, slash canvases, throw paint, smash sculptures, tear apart books, GO CRAZY

[oceantornadoo]

ch8 the wrong john | masterlist | next

tw: dubcon kissing (somnophilia), more pet play dirty talk, multiple holes are used, smut and angst in the same chap bc why not.

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

--

Thankfully, your new boyfriend does not give in to the urge to punch your brother.

“Johnny!” You move out from behind John, in no way afraid of your brother. “You can’t just hit him!” You yell. Johnny’s still as red as a tomato, huffing from the punch he threw. You can tell the captivity took its toll on him, because you’ve never seen him winded from just one punch. Instinct takes over, you and Simon catching Johnny before he stumbles. The doctor from earlier rushes over, telling her radio that they need a wheelchair, stat. The anger slowly drains from Johnny’s face, replaced with a world-weary look. He seems ten years older, a jarring thought since you’re only three minutes apart.

“Johnny, let’s talk about it later, ok?” The wheelchair arrives and you help him into it, Simon fighting off the doctor who’s arguing he needs one too. You try to grab Johnny’s hand but he snatches it back before you can. It’s like a shot to the heart. He avoids eye contact as the doctor wheels him away. Did you just lose your twin?

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” John scoops you up from behind, turning you so you’re against his chest. It’s like a switch has been flipped as the tears flow. You messed up, shouldn’t have let John kiss you in front of your brother. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You wanted to give Johnny time to adjust, time to gain his strength back, before slowly broaching the topic in a controlled manner. You did not want a punch to be thrown at 5 am. It was simply too much to handle. John’s fingers dig into the nape of your neck, anchoring you to the moment. He’s so kind, even though he was just punched, and the thought makes you cry harder. 

-

John’s jaw aches, but not as much as his heart does. It’s hard to handle his sweetheart sobbing in his arms, especially since he hasn’t seen her in weeks. The kiss was not his best move, but he blames it on the early hour and lack of sleep. The mission was absolutely grueling, the kidnappers making themselves almost impossible to track. “Almost” because, well, he did get this job for a reason. But now his team is fucked and his new girlfriend has a broken heart he can’t fix. He couldn’t even blame Johnny because if it was his sister, he would have done the same thing.

Kyle went with the doctor, so now it’s just him and his girl on a godforsaken roof on a dreary London morning. He’s been rubbing circles on her back for a while now and can feel the tears slowly stopping, her breathing becoming even. “Feel better?” She shakes her head ‘no’ and he can’t help but laugh. 

“How’s your face?” She asks, pulling back out of his grasp to inspect it. Her eyes are puffy and there’s a bit of snot on her nose. She’s beautiful. “‘S ok. Not the first time I’ve been punched.” Soft fingers turn his jaw this way and that. She sucks in a breath as she inspects the damage. “You’re gonna bruise, John.” The bruise won’t show through his beard so he shrugs, then starts herding her into the elevator. He desperately wants to shower and tuck her under the covers, then maybe eat her out later if his jaw lets him. Hopefully an orgasm would make her a little less sad. 

Thankfully, John gets his way. He’s not a messy man, his cleanliness only rivaling Garrick’s, but his room is suspiciously much cleaner than how he left it. The floors are practically sparkling. When he asks, his pet mimes a zipper, throwing the key away. John picks her up, ignoring the creak of his joints from sleeping on floors for the past week, and throws her on the bed. “Stay.” She nods, eyes big and wet, and it’s a herculean effort to drag himself away. It’s the quickest shower of his life, a little toothbrushing, and he’s finally where he belongs. With her.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” He tugs her on top of him so they’re chest to chest, her cunt on his lower belly. She’s taken off her sweatshirt and shorts, so it’s just two thin layers of fabric that separate them. “I missed you too. You sure you don’t want ice or something? I’m practically best friends with the nurses now, I’m sure they won’t mind.” He rolls them over so he’s between her tits, right at home. “‘M fine. Go t’ sleep.” She finally gets the memo and hums contentedly, fingers scratching at John’s scalp like he’s her cat. He loves it.

-

You wake up to the feeling of something scratching you. Your cat is so annoying.

“Bubbles…stop…” The feeling does stop, but as the fog slowly clears from your brain, you realize your cat is nowhere to be found. John’s beard is the culprit, wet with…spit? He’s pulled your shirt up and from the look of it, has been laving at your tits for a while now. “You mistake me for the cat, sweetheart?” You bite back a smile, shaking your head. “Was dreaming. Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Now that you’re awake, John can start giving you the full treatment. He sucks on one nipple, a callused hand squeezes it like he’s trying to get milk out. Your hips move of their own according, bucking against his hairy chest. The pain feels delicious as he bites and sucks. Your hand threads through his hair, grasping on strands for something to hold. He switches to your other nipple but keeps his hand on your tit, pinching one while sucking another. He’s so loud about it, wet and messy in a way that makes you want to hide your face. Your hips fight gravity as they move, the hair on his chest providing friction as you move up and down. You could come like this.

“John.” He gets the memo, his unoccupied hand gripping your waist and helping you grind against him. “Gonna come, baby?” It’s like a spark to your core, the coil inside you growing exponentially with every grind. He’s leaving marks that might bruise, every bite lighting your nerves on fire. Your cunt is sopping, legs straining with the effort of maintaining your grind. Removing his mouth, he pinches both of your nipples at the same time, the effect of it bringing your right to the edge. 

“Ya like that? Cunny’s all messy, baby.” You can only nod at his words. It’s desperation, your shirt hiked up to your chin, tits shiny with spit, cunt seeping. His beard is soaked, the hair on his chest matting with your slick. Both hands move your hips against his belly and he bites a nipple at the same time, the action sending you over the edge with a whine. Your empty cunt flutters against him, clit puffy from the friction of his hair. “Fuck, John.” He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, eating your face as you come down from the orgasm. 

John drops your hips, letting your cunt envelop his cock, still in his boxers. You whine at the pressure, a pitiful noise. “Lemme eat then come on you, yeah?” You nod vigorously and he chuckles at the sight. 

He licks you from ass to clit, smiling when you jump at the overstimulation. Your body is on the edge of orgasm, an almost continuation of the first. John eats sloppily, tounging the bud of your clit then flattening his tongue over the whole of it. He nearly drags you off the bed so he can be on his knees on the floor, tugging out his cock with one hand while he holds you steady with the other. That hand holding you steady grips the inside of your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to somewhere else. He prods at it, looking at you for confirmation. You nod tentatively and he slides a bit of his thumb in, giving your clit a good suck at the same time. There’s so much pressure and despite being empty you feel full, like you’re about to explode. John won’t shut up, speaking in between occupying his mouth.

“Y’r so trusting, pet.”

“Bet you were lonely without me.”

“Jus’ one more, yeah? Then I’ll let you sleep.”

You nod at the last one, feeling on edge. He slides his thumb in to the first knuckle, keeping the same pressure on your clit, and you lose it, walls spasming at his touch. Your second orgasm washes over you, your body flopping against the bed as the coil releases. John crouches up with his thumb still in you. His cock is hard and glistening in his hand, the sheen of precum all over it. You tug your shirt up from where it’s fallen and he smirks, his beard making it more pronounced. 

“That’s a good girl. Good pet f’ me.” His cum is thick and creamy, landing on your sore tits as his thumb slips out, the pressure finally releasing. “Jesus, John.” You're soaked in sweat and cum and slick, courtesy of the man in front of you. He leaves and quickly comes back with a warm washcloth, wiping down your body, then his own. “We can shower later.” You nod, making space for him in the bed. You’re both sweating anyways, so he tugs off the comforter so it’s just you and the fitted sheet. 

“You did so good.” He murmurs as you tuck yourself into him. “I like this boyfriend treatment.” You whisper back. He kisses your forehead softly. “Good, ‘cause yer stuck with me.” You kiss his pec, then snuggle in for a few more hours. John holds you until you’re asleep, then quietly slips out and takes a quick shower. The sight of you in his bed almost makes him stay, but there’s someone he needs to talk to.

-

“Ye here to discharge me?” Soap’s all bravado, but it’s hard to sound intimidating in a hospital gown. John lets him have it, picking his way through the room to sit in the chair near Soap’s bed. “‘m not apologizin’.” Soap mutters. John huffs out a laugh. “Didn’t ‘pect you to, Soap. Glad you’re doin’ better.” 

Severe dehydration. Not starved, but close to it. Bruising on wrists and ankles, likely from cuffs. One bruised rib. That’s what the doctor said before he walked in. Simon got the same treatment and he’s resting in the room over, Kyle keeping him company. The outcome is better than he expected, to be honest. Most captors would love to give Soap a beating for every quip, but John suspects being near Simon calmed him down. Another thing he has to thank the Lieutenant for.

The room is silent. There’s only one thing to be said.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me.” Soap doesn’t answer, focusing his gaze on the door. “We met the night ‘fore she came to base. Would’ve seen her again no matter what. Yer sister or not.” Soap blinks and John takes that as a sign to go ahead.

“I know y’ve got a special connection. ‘M not here to break it. ‘M askin’ for the chance t’ love her too.” John laughs to himself. “Well, not really askin’, Johnny. But you an’ I have got a life bond too and I’m tryin’ to respect it.” It’s the first time John’s ever called him Johnny. Obviously, being around his girl is starting to affect him.

“Ye love her?” Johnny’s voice is gravelly, not at its usual level of honey-coated confidence. “I do.” Johnny gives a nod of approval, a minuscule dip of his head. “Christ, ah tried hookin’ her up with Gaz.” His captain frowns. “So Kyle’s good ‘nough but not me?” Finally, Johnny locks eyes with him. “Gaz wouldn’t break ‘er heart. Ye would.” John gives him a sour smile. “She rejected me right before I left to find you, actually. She’s been sayin’ we couldn’t date for months an’ I’ve had a ring in my drawer the whole time.”

Johnny groans. He tries to cover his eyes but he’s still hooked up to the IV. “Can’t believe you’ll be my brother-in-law, Cap. Yer so old.” John scoffs. “Could hook Gaz up with y’r cousin an’ we’ll all be related.” That’s what breaks the ice. Both of the men laugh and John reaches over to squeeze Johnny’s shoulder. “That’s the only punch I’ll ever let you have, Soap. Keep that in mind next time you have a twin squabble.”

Johnny’s brows furrow at the mention of his twin. “I need t’ talk to the lass.” John squeezes his shoulder one more time, then stands up. “I’ll find ‘er for you.”

It’ll be the most important conversation of their lives.

-

We got john pov! I hope the switches between John and Johnny weren’t too confusing lol.

Just one chapter left…thank u guys for all the kind comments it means the most <3

-

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[quarterlifekitty]

Something, something, König picking up gaming in his free time, not uncommon for an older guy especially with a cute little thing who has a nice set up for gaming and he absolutely takes to it with flying colours. Kinda pissing you off how he’s gotten leagues better than you at one of your favourites in such a short amount of time. So when that skin you absolutely NEED drops you’re going insane grinding for it. It’s frustrating too because all the sweats have come out of the woodwork to grind for it too, leading to a lot of swearing and groaning on your end, coincidentally, König’s free time aligns and he’s more than happy to help you grind the tougher parts if you sit pretty on his lap and drain his pent cock.

What’s better than two stress relievers when he comes home from a high tension workplace environment?

(Bonus points if he’s your weird online long distance boyfriend who definitely told you an age younger than what’s on his ID and the place he comes home to is just your apartment that he decided was his too.)

Brother. The way this ask is in my mind. I would like to preface this by saying if you or a loved one is playing a video game with microtransactions and limited edition skin drops it’s not too late to get help. We can beat this together.

cw: he’s kind of a creep in this. Red flags abound. Somno/dubcon type stuff

Gonna make a couple of amendments to this one if that’s ok. 1) König is never going to be a god gamer because his hands are too fucking big and also I WANNA BE THE DOMINANT GAMER IN THE RELATIONSHIP. My ass is carrying HIM in apex. I don’t care that he knows how to shoot real guns. Don’t take this away from me

2) while he didn’t outright lie about his age, he did not say shit that would lead you to believe this man was over 40. He shared very few details about his personal life. Just that he was in the military, Austrian, and now? A gamer. Those are all the hallmarks of being a man in his 20s! Except the Austrian thing— that can happen to anyone.

I like to imagine he treats you like his discord kitten tho. You ask how old he is and he’s like “I’m an adult, if that’s what you’re worried about” or “old enough” or “don’t worry about it” and you say “okay 💖 yay 💖”

And he’s 100% your sugar daddy. Constantly buying you games just so you can co-op with him, gifting you in-game currency to spend on battle passes, absolutely ravaging your wishlist— steam, amazon, or otherwise.

He finds himself in your area for work and you tell him your address so he can meet up with you.

And you’re kind of a stupid femcel so when this dude shows up at your door, almost seven feet tall and wearing a surgical mask, scarred face with a healthy grey streak in his hair, it’s not setting off any alarm bells. There’s like at least 5 red flags here but you’re colorblind and inviting him in.

You didn’t realize that he was planning on staying with you while he was in the area. You also didn’t realize that the moment he found out he’d be stationed near you, he decided it was time to take your relationship to the next level.

Which is how you end up stretched out on his cock on the same day that you met in person for the first time, with him grunting in your ear about how he dreamed of this— thought of it every time he jerked off when you fell asleep during a discord call. He could tell just from your voice that you’d be pretty and soft and tight and perfect for him— and he was ready to settle down.

Good thing you didn’t really have any plans for the rest of your life, or you might find how fast he moves a little scary.

So it makes sense that you’re still a little shy. Too nervous to initiate things usually. So he just has to motivate you a little.

This skin’s an exclusive, can’t be earned with currency, and available as a drop for just 7 days. You can’t put in the hours to get it on your own, not to mention how tedious it is, and it can’t be bought. But it’s so cute.

So he makes the offer. He’ll spend his precious leave time helping you earn it if you keep his cock warm while he does it. He’d initially planned on using that time to rearrange your guts, so you’re gonna have to make it worth his while.

And maybe you exaggerate a little. You’re used to saying these things over calls— where nothing has any repercussions in the real world. Where you can promise anything from the safety of being on a screen a world away.

You tell him you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you if he can get that skin for you. After a moment you realize the implications of saying that to someone who can and will hold you down and make out with your cervix using the tip of his cock.

He borrows one of your elastics to tie back his hair.

He’s gonna get you that skin. And then he’s gonna get you pregnant.

You did say anything.

[nikovraskol]

Yk what would be crazy if past reader (16 year old version of them) got transported to the future in which they’re dead. Like imagine seeing ur kid (that you’ve neglected for so long ) just show up to your doorstep again but it’s the young version of them. Like what would be their reaction? I imagine reader just being so confused bc one minute they were at school and the next they’re being hugged by the batfam.

I love your batfam series and I honestly can’t wait to see more omlllll I love the way this is headed 🫶

thank u for this delicious request.. yall.. i've written soso many drafts for all ur requests but i dont want to overstimulate yall..its important to make sure to go at a pace your partner is comfortable with :(

masterlist

at sixteen, i imagine reader to be very nervous for the future, sixteen is two years from eighteen and i believe that they're scared that once they're a legal adult they'll no longer have any chance to be accepted -- that they'll be too old.

also, i know some goober is gonna ask so let's decide that 21 y/o (name) was able to return their 16 y/o body while 16 y/o kept their body, well, 21 y/o's body was drained of their life force and unlike jason with superboy indirectily healing him.. can we understand what im tryna say

so let's paint a picture, you're casually in school, feeling depressed because when are you not? your teacher drones on in the background as you scribble notes in your book lazily.

you're trying to drown out in your teacher one minute and then the next you're staring at the door to the manor.

oh. okay.

you're understandably a little puzzled but you brush it off, it's not the first time you've disassociated, it hadn't happened in a while but you're under a lot of stress with school and the crippling sorrow threatening to swallow you.

so you open the door, completely unaware you're walking to your doom, you step inside, your head hung low as you morosely walk in, not excited to be back in this manor of gloom and doom.

and then you hear it, a loud, absolutely offended shriek -- to which you don't look, it's not any of your business, they're probably just playing around without you, indulging in their inside jokes.

and then you're embraced, tightly, too tightly.

"what the--" you're.. being hugged? is alfred feeling alright?--

and then you see the jet-black hair you've seen countless times in passing, and then you feel the warmth of his body against yours, and then he looks up at you -- eyes wild and focused on you. only on you.

"what the fuck?" you're genuinely, so unbelievably confused. have you died? is this heaven?

"you're-- you're alive? this is real?" bruce breathes out, your father is looking at you. looking at you like you're his child, your lips tug into a thin line as you watch as the rest of the clowns join the circus.

oooh boyy.

you probably don't even notice the fact that you've switched universes at first.

like, you're so confused but also lavishing in the attention-- i mean, this is what you've wanted your whole life, right?

bruce is hanging off your every word, no longer does he brush you off or ignore you, he stares at you intently -- memorising every part of your face, every twitch of your muscles, every single detail of you, his precious child, alive in the flesh.

dick clings onto you way too much. every waking moment of the day he's by your side, sometimes he'll hug you tight, his hand gently snaking to press against the pulse point on your wrist, his eyes strangely darkened as he feels your pulse thumming against your skin.

jason is similar to dick in this scenario, the guilt from the incident weighing heavy on his mind, he doesn't let you out of his sight, he's always lingering. he's also way more protective in a smothering way, you're cooking? don't be silly, you might cut yourself! you're running around? slow down, you might fall! you're leaving the manor? why? what do you need? don't leave him, please, never again.

tim is a lot more .. atuned to your emotions. he regularly asks how you feel, at first it's more-so because he is truly glad you're back, he wants to make up for the past! but after a while, it gets to a point where it feels like you're being studied. he's just making sure you're not upset, that you're not thinking of leaving, again.

damian is downright terrifying, not in a violent way, but in a way that you're not sure how to react.. i mean, he used to be the one to belittle you the once, seeing him being so.. gentle. it's unnerving! he's almost kind to you? he'll soften his words, urge you to rest, it's .. strange. very strange.

after a while, the attention gets suffocating. very suffocating. you enjoy the attention, in fact, you've never been happier. but since coming home since that one day, you've not had a moments peace.

you wake up, someone's hovering over you. you go to eat, someone's making sure you don't choke. you're going for a walk? no, you're not.

it gets loathsome, you feel like a porcelain doll. you're not allowed any freedom, you don't go to school anymore -- anytime you bring it up you get strange looks.

that's not the only oddity. you feel different, stranger. not only are you taller, but your mind is different, and while buying something from the store, you notice an id. what? an id that says your age is twenty-one.

and another thing, alfred, the man you consider a father, is dead. dead. like, buried in the ground dead.

if you try to bring it up with your family, they share strange looks. they won't tell you, no, they want to keep you happy -- want to ignore the fact that you're not really their y/n, so don't bring it up too often. kay??

[mommynott]

Hii I don't know if you're still taking requests but plsss 🙏🙏 I need I need Dom!Theodore letting reader take control and ride him plsss absolutely need

Always taking requests sweet pea! Even if it takes me a little to get to them sometimes LOL

Anything for my sexy smut sluts 🫡💋

Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, college au, dom!theo, bf!theo, dombf!theo, PIV, riding, rough sex, dirty talk, choking, hickies, nipple play, dom&sub, creampie

Plap- “You’re Plap- So Plap- good”-Plap plap- Theo groans through his plows, one hand wrapped around your throat while his darkened gaze burns into yours. Beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and torso.

“Mmm-…Theo, baby?”

Through your whiney little whimpers, you manage to choke up your words. But Theodore didn’t stop. Not in the least, his hand tightened around your neck as he started to smack kisses to your jaw. “Hm?…Yes, Amore?” He asks in a deep growl, his thrusts moving at a slower pace now.

You glided your head to the side, making your eyes lock together through your heavy breathing. “Can I…Can I go on top?” Questioning him, you bat your lashes up at the Italian. Showing your full submissive side while you wait for his answer. Unsure of how this could even go.

Theodore’s eyes flickered between yours for a moment, his silver-chained cross hanging right in your face before his lips curled into a sinister smirk. “Since you asked so…nicely, I’ll allow it.” His voice held a hint of danger to it, arousing nonetheless. His strong hands moved to your hips as he laid back, pulling you on top of him as he did.

“Ride the cum out of me. Drain my fucking balls. But don’t you dare think of stopping until I’ve finished, understood?”

Of course, even having the tiniest bit of control over Theo, he still showed his dominant and assertive nature that seemed to come naturally to him. “Mhmmm- Understood.” You whispered, your hips bucking against him as your hands found their way into your own silky hair.

His nails dug into your hips, pushing you down his massive shaft harder as he rocked you faster against him. “Fuck-…That’s it, Tesoro. Just like that.” Moans slip freely from your swollen lips, your eyes glossing over as you fight to keep them open.

Theodore’s lips find their way to your hardened nipples, sucking on them with a burning need, his nails clawing so hard into your hips that it seems to break the skin. This time, he switches it up from the back-and-forth movement, lifting you slightly and thrusting along with your rhythm.

“Bouncing on my -Cazzo….cock…like such a good fucking girl..”

He hisses from his throat against your perked nipple before taking it between his teeth. Making sure to leave his marks all over your breasts because again…This is Theodore fucking Nott we’re talking about here. Does he ever fully let you take control?

“Gods- I love that dick!” The moans escaping your lips only getting louder by the second, Theo’s face buried between your tits, lost in the blissful pleasure of you. “Yeah, you fuckin’ do…fuck!- Finish with me, amore. Don’t hold back.” He husked into your sensitive flesh.

No edging. No punishment. No waiting. Oh, you were fucking taking this. Not waiting a second longer, you let your orgasm hit, creamy juices flowing down onto Theo’s cock. Your moans turning into screams of pleasure just as you feel the slight twitching from his shaft.

Theo’s seed was spilling inside of your juicy cunt, practically overflowing you with the sticky mess. His own body convulsing with sheer pleasure as he growls lowly between your chest, all in the while smothering your tits with sloppy kisses.

“You’re too fuckin’ good…Such a sight to see with you on top of me…Can’t get enough of you, amore”

Hehehe I hope yall liked this lil Drabble of our beloved dom!theo

As always asks and requests are open smut sluts 💋

Divider pinned in my masterlist 🌙

[nastybuckybarnes]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Simon Riley X Reader

Summary: Nothing shatters the tension of a fight quite like needing your boyfriend to rush home to save you from people who would do you harm.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Fighting, Fluff, Kind of mean!Simon but not too bad, very minor violence, home invasion, I think that's it...?

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: we're gonna dip a toe in the COD water and see what happens. I love ghost and Konig so we'll see what else I do there. For any and all COD stuff, I use Canadian Military as a basis for the readers background.

~*~

"I've had enough of this. I'm not gonna argue with you about somethin' so stupid," he hisses, glaring at you with hard, cold eyes.

"It's not stupid, Simon, you just don't want to ever entertain the idea of talking about things that might make you slightly uncomfortable!"

"Oh fuckin hell." He drags a hand down his face and shakes his head.

"Everythin's always gotta end with you being right, doesn't it?"

You frown at his absolute lack of any sort of understanding or empathy.

"This isn't about me being right, this is about you at the very least hearing me out!" You try.

"You knew what you were getting in to the moment you met me, m'not sure what you're expecting of me now. S'not like I can go and change the way things are, now can I?"

You narrow your eyes at him and his blatant ignorance.

"I understand full well, Lieutenant. I've been there, which is something you seem to conveniently forget."

He lets out a humourless chuckle and shakes his head, "don't go put yourself in the same category as me now, lovey. You know you weren't exactly at my level when you served."

His words are a slap in the face.

Sure, you were never quite JTF2 or SAS level, but that doesn't mean your time in the military is any less valid than his.

Seven years of your life you devoted to serving your country, the medical help for teams like his, and all he can do is turn his nose down at it as if it means nothing to him.

"You know what? Fuck you, Simon. I never even insinuated that we were at the same level and for you to try and..." you stop, pinching the bridge of your nose as anger fills you.

"What? Got nothin' to say now? That's a shock."

It takes all your strength not to lash out at him and even more to stop your bottom lip from quivering at just how mean he's being.

Sure, he's always been a little rough around the edges, a little harsh and brazen, but never has he been so downright mean to you.

"Get out."

"What?" This seems to genuinely catch him off guard, his arrogance faltering for a moment.

"Get out. Leave."

Simon Riley isn't a man who gets scared. He's been chewed up and spat out of hell before. Nothing on Earth can get the jump on him and nothing can scare him.

At least, that's what he thought.

His palms tingle and he needs to grind his teeth together a few times to collect himself before speaking.

"So that's it then?" He asks, his deep voice barking the question like he would an order.

You two have had your fair share of fights in the time that you've been dating, even more since you moved in together, but none where he's thought you might end things.

"I'm not gonna stand here and take a verbal beating from you, Si. Get out and come back when you've had a chance to fucking cool off."

He stares at you for a long moment, testing your resolve, waiting to see if you really mean it.

When you hold his glare, not backing down, he grabs his coat, mask, and keys and storms out of the house without another word.

You stand there in the kitchen for a long moment, the silence ringing heavily in your ears before you storm up the stairs to take a shower and, hopefully, argue out all your hostility in private.

The warm water runs over your tense shoulders for a few minutes and you try your hardest to relax, to let the anger seep out of you and run down the drain, but when you hear the front door open you're filled with rage once more.

You stand in the shower silently, waiting for the door to open and close again, signalling his departure, but instead you just hear boots on the kitchen floor.

Scoffing and shaking your head, you start to seethe.

As if he's wearing his shoes in the house on top of everything else.

You yank the shower curtain aside and step out onto the mat, not bothering to turn the shower off.

A crash from the kitchen makes you freeze.

Simon is never this loud.

Like a deer on the highway, you stay still, silencing your breathing as you listen to the noises coming from the kitchen.

Instead of calling out to him and potentially causing more trouble, you take a silent step to the counter where your phone lies.

You grab it and hit his icon quickly, listening to it ring for a while before he sends you to his voicemail. A loud beep sounds tauntingly in your ear and you huff out an angry breath.

You hang up and call him back, grinding your teeth together when he sends you straight to voicemail again.

The noises in the kitchen continue, and your heart jumps into your throat.

Answer your phone, Simon.

You shoot the text off quickly then immediately call him again, your stomach settling when the call connects.

"Are you home?" You waste no time on pleasantries, and instead hear him sigh heavily.

"You told me to get the fuck out, didn't ya? Why would I be home."

Your breath hitches and you press your back to the bathroom door, turning the lock silently as panic fills you.

"Simon, someone's here."

The fear in your voice has his blood running cold, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter as your fight gets shoved from his mind.

"What do you mean 'someone's here'?" He asks, his voice lacking the anger it had only moments ago.

"I heard the door open and I can hear someone in the kitchen."

You hear his tires screeching on the pavement and his engine roaring as he speeds home.

"Where are you right now?" This isn't Simon talking now. You recognize the change.

This is Ghost.

"I'm in our bathroom. Door locked and shower on."

"Good. Keep that water running. As long as they think you don't know they're there, you should be okay until I get home."

"Okay." You feel a little bit safer knowing he's on his way home.

"Keep me on the line."

"Okay."

There's a few seconds of just breathing before you speak again.

"How far are you?"

"Two minutes away."

"Okay... After you deal with these guys we can go back to yelling at each other," you whisper, wrapping a towel around your body and leaning against the wall across from the door.

He chuckles softly and the sound makes a small smile tug at your lips.

As much as he pisses you off and even sometimes hurts your feelings, deep down you know you'll never love anyone the way you love him.

You don't realize you've been quiet until he calls your name softly.

"You still with me, dove?" His voice is soft and you hear him turn the car off.

"I'm here."

"Good. I'm home now, don't come out of the bathroom 'till I come get you, understood?"

"Understood."

Sometimes living with Simon reminds you of being on base, and there are times when you despise it.

And then there are the times when you don't mind it as much. This is one of those times.

You hear the muffled sound of what must be him putting his phone in his pocket, and you close your eyes as you hear the soft click of the door handle through the speaker.

His footsteps are silent, even through the phone, and you feel ridiculous for ever thinking you'd hear it if he came home.

You can hear him as he takes down one intruder, and then what must be a second one.

He says nothing to them, that you can hear. But a series of dull thuds echo through the house before silence remains.

A few minutes go by of nothing, but you don't dare speak or open the door.

Ghost gave you an order, and you have no intentions of disobeying.

There are a few more moments of silence before you hear a crisp knock on the door.

"Lovey? You can open up now."

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you open the bathroom door and are immediately engulfed in Simon's strong arms.

He walks you backwards into the bathroom and squeezes you to his chest, mask hiked up over his nose so he can breathe in the scent of you.

"You all right, love?" He asks softly, his voice gruff and ever so rough.

"M'okay, Si. Thank you for coming home."

"S'my fault anyway. I shoulda locked the door before leavin' in a huff the way I did."

You frown and shake your head, pulling away to look up at him.

"This is in no way your fault, Simon. I could've easily locked the door after you. I'm just happy you got home in time."

Though you're not sure what the intruders really wanted, you're glad you didn't have to find out alone.

"I'll always come home."

And with those four words, he puts to rest not only the intruder situation, but also your argument from earlier.

Because he will. He'll always come home to you, regardless of what he needs to do, he'll make sure he comes home to you.

[lupinqs]

GHOSTFACE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: after a kill, paige decides she needs to fuck you senseless.

☆ ━ word count: 8.3K

☆ ━ warnings: sexual content (absolute pure filth, dom!paige, kinda bratty!reader, choking, blood kink, knifeplay, oral, fingering), oh yeah also murder

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: my halloween treat for you 🍬😜 on a serious note tho this is actually the freakiest nastiest shit i’ve ever written idk wtf i was on

THE CAR idles in the dark, the soft hum of the engine barely cutting through the late-night quiet of Storrs. You sit in the driver’s seat, the burner phone in your lap, your fingers drumming against the wheel as you steal a glance at the clock. It’s past midnight, the world outside wrapped in a blanket of stillness, but your heart is anything but calm. The recent killings on campus have the entire student body on edge, but no one would ever guess that the two of you—the school’s sweetheart basketball star and her quiet, unsuspecting girlfriend—are the ones behind it all.

Tonight, though, has a different kind of energy. It’s not just about the kill. It’s about what came before. Paige is sitting next to you in the passenger seat, her Ghostface costume on, the long black cloak pooling around her legs. Her game-day braids are still tied back into a ponytail, her skin still glowing with the leftover adrenaline from the UConn game earlier tonight. She’d killed it on the court—led the team to another win, the crowd chanting her name as she drained shot after shot.

Now, she’s about to kill in a very different way.

You feel a surge of excitement just thinking about it—about how she can seamlessly transition from the basketball star everyone worships to this… to your partner in something darker, something the two of you have created and mastered together. You’ve always been the one with the words, the voice on the phone that lures them in, taunting them, teasing them, until Paige steps in and finishes the job. She’s the executioner, but you set the stage.

“Still riding that high, huh?” you tease, your voice soft but playful as you glance over at her. You can see it in the way her leg bounces slightly, the leftover buzz of the game still coursing through her.

Paige turns to you, a smirk playing on her lips. “Can’t help it. We crushed ‘em tonight.” She adjusts the mask in her lap, her eyes flickering with excitement that’s just as much about what’s to come as it is about the win she’s still basking in. “You saw that last block, right? Perfect.”

You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, it was good.”

She grins, her confidence practically radiating off her. It’s the same look she wears after every game—this electric mix of pride and hunger for more. But tonight, there’s a sharper edge to it, a different kind of hunger simmering beneath the surface. One that only you know about.

Paige leans over suddenly, her hand grabbing your jaw, pulling you into her, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s rough, heated. You kiss her back, matching her intensity, the burner phone nearly slipping from your lap as your hand grips the back of her neck. The adrenaline from the night, from her win, from the secret you both share—it all mixes into a heady, intoxicating rush.

She pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, her voice low and teasing. “Wish me luck, baby.”

Her smirk is wicked as she slips the Ghostface mask over her head, the familiar face now staring back at you. It’s eerie, unnerving—everything it’s supposed to be—but you know who’s behind it. Paige.

The sound of the car door opening is the only thing that breaks the silence as Paige steps out, her black cloak trailing behind her as she disappears into the night.

You wait a few moments, scrolling through your phone before deciding to get out. The door slams shut behind you with a sharp, metallic thud that echoes through the quiet night. The cold Connecticut wind bites at your face as you step away from the car, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. It’s freezing tonight, the kind of chill that seeps into your bones and lingers, but the thrill, the adrenaline of what’s about to happen, keeps you warm enough.

You shove your hands into your pockets, walking slowly toward the edge of the building. The apartment complex looms ahead, its brick exterior cold and silent, with only a few lights flickering from various windows. Your breath fogs up in the night air as you circle around, your shoes scraping against the asphalt, the distant sounds of traffic muffled by the wind.

You reach the back of the building, your body finding refuge against the brick wall. The rough texture scratches through your jacket as you lean against it, glancing around to make sure no one’s nearby. You’re careful, always careful. This isn’t your first time doing this, after all.

Paige is inside, probably already climbing the stairs, making her way to the bartender’s apartment. You can imagine her slipping through the shadows, as quiet and deadly as she is on the court, that same fierce determination in her eyes.

You pull a cigarette from your pocket, slipping it between your lips before lighting it, the flame briefly illuminating your face before you inhale deeply. The smoke curls in the cold air, the familiar burn in your lungs settling you, grounding you. This part of the night is always the same—the waiting. But it’s also the part you’ve come to appreciate. The anticipation, the patience it takes. You wait for Paige’s text, the one that’ll let you know she’s in position, ready for you to make the call.

The call that’ll lure tonight’s target straight into her arms.

The bartender. You think back to that night, just a few days ago, when you and Paige were out with her team. It was supposed to be a fun night, just you, Paige, and the rest of the girls, celebrating another win. Paige had been in her usual form—confident, charismatic, drawing everyone’s attention like she always does. But then she came into the picture. The fucking bartender.

The girl had been pouring drinks all night, flirting shamelessly with Paige, making little comments, smiling at her in a way that made your blood boil. Paige had stayed cool, giving her those polite but dismissive smiles, her arm draped around your waist as if to make it clear. But the bartender either didn’t care or didn’t notice, and it had pissed you off. You could tell Paige had noticed too, the way she tightened her grip on you, the way her eyes flicked to yours whenever the girl leaned in too close.

And, later that night, after a few drinks, the two of you had ended up in the bathroom, making out against the sink. Paige had been rougher than usual, her hands gripping your hips, her lips almost bruising yours, and in the heat of it, she’d pulled back, breathless, and whispered, “You wanna kill her?”

You hadn’t hesitated. Of course you wanted to kill her.

So, tonight, here you are. The plan is simple—Paige gets in, finds her, and you make the call. Then, Paige does what she does best. Only tonight, there’s something different. Paige had promised that you’d get the final stab. The last touch, the one that seals the deal, making it yours too.

You take another drag from the cigarette, exhaling slowly, your eyes scanning the street. Everything is still, nothing but the occasional flicker of movement behind closed windows. The night is quiet, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for what’s about to unfold.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you feel a thrill shoot up your spine. You pull it out and glance at the screen.

It’s Paige.

One word: Ready.

Your heart skips a beat, the cigarette forgotten as you flick it away, crushing it under your heel. Showtime. You slide the phone back into your hand, dialing the bartender’s number. It rings once, twice, before the click of the line picking up fills your ear. For a moment, all you can hear is the faint sound of background noise—some low music, maybe the TV—and then her voice comes through, light and unexpectedly cheery for how late it is.

“Hello?” The bartender’s tone is casual, friendly, like she’s used to people calling her at odd hours. It’s clear she’s not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

You suppress a grin, knowing exactly where this is headed. You always start the same way—light, teasing, pretending to be someone she might actually want to talk to. And as always, you speak through the voice changer, your voice distorted into something deeper, something unrecognizable.

“Hey,” you say, the voice changer making you sound almost playful. “You still up?”

There’s a pause on the other end, like she’s trying to place your voice. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Who’s this?”

You lean back against the wall, settling into your role. “Just someone who noticed you the other night. Thought I’d give you a call. You just started bartending, right? At Ted’s?”

Another pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her head. “Oh,” she says after a moment, her tone picking up with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, that’s me. How’d you get my number?”

You chuckle, low and smooth, keeping your tone flirtatious. “Got my ways.”

She laughs softly, clearly entertained. “Well, I guess you’re resourceful, huh? What’s your name?”

You sidestep the question, keeping her engaged, knowing that she’ll follow along if you give her just enough. “What’s yours?” you ask instead, turning it around on her.

She laughs again, a little softer this time, and you can picture her sitting up, maybe twirling her hair or playing with her phone. “Kelsey,” she offers.

“Kelsey,” you repeat, letting her name roll off your tongue, the voice changer making it sound almost sinister, but not enough for her to notice—yet. “Pretty name. You’re pretty good at pouring drinks too.”

She snorts. “Well, thanks. I do my best. You one of my regulars or something?”

You let the silence hang for a beat, then reply, “You could say that. I saw you with your hands all over that blonde girl the other night. What was her name? Paige?”

There’s a shift in her tone now, a slight hesitation. “Oh… yeah, I remember her,” she says, her voice a bit more careful, like she’s suddenly unsure of where this conversation is going. “You friends with her or something?”

You can feel her starting to get a little uneasy, and it makes you smile, the thrill of it building in your chest. You lean forward slightly, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

“Something like that,” you say, your voice low now, more serious. “You were really bold, flirting with her like that, Kelsey. I gotta say, I don’t think she appreciated it. And I definitely didn’t.”

There’s a beat of silence. A longer one this time. And when she speaks again, there’s a trace of nervous laughter in her voice. “Okay, uh… who the hell is this?”

You can hear her trying to play it off, but there’s a flicker of panic underneath. She’s starting to realize this isn’t a joke. This isn’t some casual late-night flirtation.

“You don’t remember me?” you ask, sounding almost innocent. “I was there that whole night.”

Her breath catches, and then she laughs again, this time more forced, trying to regain control. “Alright, this is getting weird,” she says. “I’m gonna hang up now—”

“Don’t.” Your voice cuts through sharply, commanding, and you hear the soft gasp she makes on the other end. “Don’t you fucking dare hang up.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of her breathing, shaky now, uneven. You can almost see her, sitting in her apartment, probably looking around, trying to figure out if this is a prank, if someone’s watching her. You know the thoughts running through her head. You’ve seen it all before.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but—”

“I want you to stay on the phone,” you interrupt, your voice laced with cold amusement. “You’ve been real fun to talk to so far, Kelsey. Don’t ruin it now.”

You hear her exhale sharply, the panic setting in for real now. “This isn’t funny, okay? Just—just leave me alone, or I’m calling the cops.”

“Go ahead,” you say casually, starting to grin. “Call them. Tell them someone’s watching you.”

Her breath hitches again, and you can hear the unmistakable tremor in her voice. “Watching me? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Your smile widens. “Sweetheart,” you say softly, almost kindly, “I can see you.”

A small, broken gasp escapes her, and you hear her scramble, probably getting off the couch, rushing to lock her door or check her windows. The desperation in her voice is thick now. “Where are you? Where the fuck are you?”

You pause for just a second, letting the tension build, before finally answering, “Right behind you.”

There’s a crash on the other end of the line, followed immediately by a scream that’s cut short. You hear the sound of a body hitting the floor, the unmistakable sound of the phone dropping, and then—

The pleading starts.

“Please, no—no—” Kelsey’s voice is choked, panicked, and you can hear her gasping for air, her words coming out in sobs now. You can picture it perfectly—Paige towering over her, the blade glinting in the dim light of the apartment. The sound of a struggle follows, Kelsey’s voice growing more desperate, more terrified. “Please! I—”

And then the first stab.

It’s a wet, sickening sound, the blade sinking into flesh. Kelsey’s scream is sharp, but it quickly turns into a gargle as blood fills her throat. You hear her choking, trying to speak, to beg. There’s more stabbing, more squelching, before it stops, and all you can hear are weak, broken sobs.

For a few more seconds, there’s nothing but shuffling, the sound of Paige moving around, and then—quiet.

You wait, holding your breath, the anticipation still thrumming through you, until finally, you hear her voice. Paige’s voice, smooth, confident, and a little out of breath.

“Baby,” she says, and you can practically hear her smile through the phone, “you can come on up here now. She’s ready for you.”

You hang up before beginning to walk, keeping your pace quick as you stride into the apartment building. You’re trying to be fast—you don’t want her to fucking bleed out and die before you can finish her off.

The elevator ride up to her floor feels agonizingly slow, your foot tapping impatiently against the metal floor. When you finally reach her door, you stop for a second, taking a breath, checking the number to make sure it’s the right one. Your fist raises, knocking once—sharp and deliberate.

The door swings open almost immediately, and there she is—Paige, standing in the doorway, her figure backlit by the dim apartment lights. She’s still wearing the Ghostface costume, though the mask dangles casually from her hand now. Her braids, still in that game-day ponytail, are a little mussed, strands sticking out here and there, but it only adds to the chaotic allure of her right now. There’s blood splattered across her face, stark against her skin, and across her clothes too. She hasn’t even bothered to clean it up yet, and God, you can’t help but think she looks so fucking hot.

Her eyes are gleaming, and there’s that familiar smirk on her lips, a wild energy simmering underneath her calm exterior. She steps aside, motioning you inside with an almost nonchalant flick of her hand, like she’s inviting you into some casual dinner party, not a murder scene.

“Come on in,” Paige murmurs, her voice low, still tinged with excitement.

You step inside, your shoes making soft thuds against the hardwood floor. As you move past her, you catch the faintest whiff of blood—coppery, metallic—and it sends a rush through you, like a shot of adrenaline straight to your veins. Paige closes the door behind you, and you take in the scene in front of you.

Kelsey is on the floor, twitching in agony, her body twisted at an unnatural angle. She’s choking on her own blood, gasping and gargling as it pools in her mouth, her eyes wide with terror and pain. It’s clear she’s still alive, but just barely. Paige has done her job, but she’s left enough for you to finish.

Paige steps up behind you, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “She’s all yours,” she whispers, pressing the bloody knife into your hand. The blade is still warm, slick with Kelsey’s blood, and the weight of it in your hand sends a thrill through you.

You take the knife, your fingers tightening around the hilt as you approach Kelsey’s broken, twitching form. Her eyes, glazed over with fear and pain, manage to lock onto yours as you kneel beside her. The sound of her labored breathing is all you can hear, the wet gurgle of blood in her throat. You smile down at her, a sweet, almost tender expression crossing your face.

“Hi, Kelsey,” you say softly, your voice gentle, as if you’re greeting an old friend.

You think you hear her try to form the word please, but it’s lost in the thick, choking blood that fills her throat. Her body jerks slightly, like she’s trying to move, trying to plead, but it’s useless now.

You bring the knife to her face, the tip of the blade tracing lightly along her cheek, not even hard enough to cut. It’s almost affectionate, the way you drag the metal across her skin. But then, with a quick, practiced motion, you bring the knife down to her throat, slitting it cleanly, efficiently. There’s a brief spray of blood—splashing up onto your face—as her body convulses once, twice, and then slumps against the floor, lifeless.

“Fucking bitch,” you mutter under your breath, watching the last bit of life drain from her body. You stay there for a moment, just staring at her, taking in the scene—the blood, the broken, twisted limbs, the silence that settles over the room now that she’s dead.

You’re still staring when you feel Paige behind you again, pulling you up to stand. Her hands slide around your waist, her front pressing against your back. One of her big hands splays across your stomach, holding you close, while her other finds your wrist, gently taking the knife from your hold.

“That was so hot, baby,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with admiration and lust, her breath right against your ear.

You lean back into her touch, your body relaxing against hers as she starts to pepper soft kisses along your neck, her lips trailing up your jawline. The tension in the room shifts from the violence of the kill to something more intimate, more charged. You close your eyes, letting the sensation of her mouth on your skin, her hands on your body, wash over you.

Paige’s teeth graze against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck before she begins to suck, hard enough to leave a mark. You gasp softly, the sensation heightened as her hands slowly slide up your arms, fingers brushing the fabric of your zip-up hoodie. In one smooth motion, she tugs it down, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your red, lacy tank top. Ironically, the color is a perfect match for the blood spattered across the room, across both of you.

Her hands move to your shoulders first, but then one of them drifts lower, grabbing at your chest, squeezing your tit through the thin lace, pulling your back tighter against her front. You feel caged in her hold, a gasp escaping your lips as her grip grows firmer. But the real shock comes when you feel the teasing touch of the knife, the cold metal ghosting along the skin of your arm. Paige trails it down, tracing the sliver of bare skin just below where your tank top ends and just above where your sweatpants begin.

And then, with deliberate precision, Paige slashes the knife upward, cutting clean through the middle of your tank top. The fabric falls open, revealing your skin to the cool air and the warmth of her breath on your neck. You whine softly, “P, that was expensive.”

Paige just chuckles darkly, her fingers tightening around your breast, thumb brushing over your now pert nipple, as she whispers, “I’ll buy you another one.” With that, she pulls the torn fabric off you, letting it drop to the ground, leaving you completely topless. You weren’t wearing a bra beneath the tank, and the sudden exposure makes you shiver, but Paige’s body pressed against yours keeps you warm.

In one swift motion, she’s spinning you around, pressing her lips against yours, kissing you with a rough intensity. You can taste the blood on her lips, probably a mixture of the blood spatters on both of your faces. Her hand grips the side of your neck, holding you firmly in place, while her other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Her palm presses into your lower back, and the cold handle of the knife digs into your skin, a reminder of everything you’ve just done together.

Your hands move instinctively to her ponytail, fingers threading through her braids before you give a slight tug. The moan that escapes from your lips is muffled by her kiss, but it’s enough to make Paige groan against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. You pulling her hair seems to set something off in her, fueling that dark intensity behind her eyes. She bites at your bottom lip, tugging lightly as she starts to push you back, guiding you towards the couch.

When the back of your legs hit the edge, you lose your balance and fall back onto the cushions, and Paige doesn’t waste a second. She’s immediately on top of you, her knee slipping between your legs, nudging against your clothed core with a teasing pressure. Her hand is already at your chest, kneading your breast while her other hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you wince—but in the way you like. You can feel the heat building inside you as her fingers press into the sides of your neck, right where your pulse pounds beneath your skin.

Paige’s mouth meets yours again, more demanding this time, her tongue pushing past your lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own. The pressure of her thumb on your pulse point makes your head swim, the sensation mixing pleasure with just the right hint of pain. You moan again, this time louder, your hips instinctively shifting under her as you crave more of that pressure between your legs.

She pulls away for a moment, just enough to trail her tongue along the edge of your lips, teasing and slow. Her tongue slides down to your chin, licking away the last remnants of the bartender’s blood from earlier, and it sends a shiver down your spine. The metallic tang still lingers as she leans back in to kiss you again, the taste of blood filling both of your mouths, and it only makes you want more.

And then you begin to feel something cold and sharp press against your skin. It takes you a second to realize what it is—she’s taken the knife again, and now the cold, wet metal is sliding over the valley between your breasts. The feeling sends a shiver through your body, and you gasp into her mouth as she presses the blade against your skin, wiping the blood from earlier onto you.

She pulls back slightly, her darkened eyes focused on the trail of blood she’s smearing onto your chest. The sight alone makes your breath catch. Paige’s lips curve into a smirk as she watches your reaction, clearly enjoying the way your body tenses beneath her. She doesn’t say anything at first, just lets her mouth move downward, trailing kisses along your collarbones, lingering there as her hot breath mingles with the coolness of the blood.

“God, you look so fucking good like this,” Paige murmurs against your skin, her voice low and gravelly. Her lips are teasing, pressing soft, feather-light kisses that make your heart pound harder.

Then she lowers her head further, until her mouth is right between your breasts, where the blood is smeared in a messy line. You feel her tongue dart out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe across your skin, cleaning the blood off in one long motion. The sensation makes you arch your back, a soft moan slipping from your lips as her tongue glides over your skin.

Her knee presses harder between your legs, creating a delicious friction that has you biting your lip, trying to stifle another moan. But it’s impossible to keep quiet when Paige is so close, her body practically overwhelming yours with heat and pressure. You grip her back, nails digging into her shirt as she keeps licking the blood off your chest, the knife still cold in her hand as it brushes against your skin.

Paige chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you as she moves her lips to one of your breasts, taking your nipple into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, teasing, sucking lightly at first. Your whole body reacts, your breath catching in your throat, and a gasp escapes you as she bites down gently, enough to send a shock of pleasure through you.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your skin as she switches to your other breast, her mouth relentless. “So perfect and pretty for me, baby.”

Her words send another wave of heat through you, and you can’t help but moan again, louder this time, your body arching into hers. The pressure of her knee between your legs intensifies, and you grind down instinctively, craving more of that contact.

Paige’s mouth leaves your breast, trailing wet kisses down your abdomen. Her tongue flicks out, teasing along your ribs, before she starts sucking at your skin hard enough that you know she’s leaving marks—evidence of where she’s claimed you, the sensation sending sharp tingles through you.

Her hands move with purpose, finding the waistband of your sweatpants. You don’t even realize what she’s doing until you feel her fingers digging into your pocket, pulling something out before she slides your pants down your legs, leaving you in nothing but the lacy red thong that matches the blood-smeared mess around you and that did match your now-ruined tank top.

Paige takes her time, her gaze dark and heated as she admires the way the lace clings to your skin. She reaches out, hooking her finger under the waistband of the thong, pulling it back teasingly. The pressure is light, but it’s enough to make you shiver as she flicks it back against your skin with a soft snap. Paige hums, clearly pleased by your reaction, her smirk growing as her eyes meet yours.

You’re about to say something, maybe tease her back, when you notice what’s in her hand. It takes a second for it to register, but then you realize it’s the voice changer. The same one you use to make all your taunting phone calls.

Paige brings it up to her lips, turning it on with a flick of her thumb. “Do you wanna play a game?” Her voice comes out distorted, deep and twisted in that familiar way, making your heart race with a mix of excitement and surprise.

Immediately, you reach for the voice changer, shaking your head. “Babe, that’s my thing—” you protest, because it is. You’re the one who always calls the shots. You’re the one who makes the phone calls, who controls the game. Not her.

But Paige is quicker. She pulls back just enough to keep it out of your reach, sitting up on her knees and holding the voice changer above her head, far enough that you’d have to try harder to grab it. She cocks her head, a playful yet dangerous glint in her eyes. “Ah-ah,” she clicks her tongue, the sound sharp and commanding. Her expression makes it clear—if you try to take it again, you’re not going to like what happens next.

You lower your hand, your heart pounding in anticipation, your body already responding to the shift in control. Paige’s eyes stay locked on yours, her smile widening as she brings the voice changer back to her lips.

“I said,” she repeats, her voice low and sultry before flicking it back on, “do you wanna play a game?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real defiance behind it, just attitude—the kind Paige loves and hates equally. “What kinda game?” you ask, the challenge evident in your tone.

Paige’s grin grows, dark and wicked. She’s clearly enjoying this. “Oh, it’s simple,” she begins, her voice turning to a dangerous purr. “You’re gonna follow my rules. You do exactly what I say, and maybe I’ll let you finish.”

You scoff a little at that, trying to keep up the act of being unimpressed, but there’s no denying the way her words send a surge of heat straight through you. “And what if I don’t?” you counter, testing her.

Paige’s eyes flash, her smirk growing more predatory, the same look she gets before she kills. She leans in close, the voice changer still in hand as she trails the back of the knife down your stomach, teasingly slow. “Then I’ll make sure you beg for it,” she whispers, her breath hot against your skin.

You feel your throat go dry at the sensation of the knife, her breath, the words she says. You swallow, staying quiet.

“You like that, yeah?” Paige says, her voice dropping lower as she presses the flat of the knife against your stomach, the cool metal sending shivers down your spine. “When I’m the one tellin’ you what to do, when I make you all desperate and shi.”

Paige continues to move the knife down, grazing along the edge of your thong, the metal tracing the fabric lightly as she keeps talking through the voice changer. “Here’s what we’re gon’ do,” she starts, giving you a pointed look. “You’re gonna keep your hands right here,” she instructs, using her own hand to bring your wrists together and pulling them over your head, resting behind you against the armrest of the couch. “And you’re not gon’ move them. If you do… I’ll make sure it’s not pretty, ‘kay?” The implication is enough to make your breath hitch.

You stare up at her, heart racing, but you don’t argue. The way she’s looking at you—hungry and in control—makes you want to give in. To let her push you to the edge.

“And you’re gonna beg,” Paige adds, her voice husky, the grin on her face positively wicked. “Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to let you cum. You’re gonna tell me how much you need it.”

Your lips part, but before you can respond, Paige presses the knife lightly against your skin again, the threat clear but enticing.

“Do you wanna play?” she asks once more, using the voice changer. But this time, it’s not really a question. It’s more of a demand.

You don’t say anything for a long moment, staying silent. But Paige won’t have that. She takes the handle of the knife, lightly stroking your clothed clit with it, keeping her eyes on your face. Your hips buck up involuntarily at the feeling, and your gaze lands on hers, catching sight of her waiting expression. You sigh in discomfort, wanting more, shifting your hips a little. However, you know she won’t give you any more of what you need if you don’t agree to play her stupid fucking game. So, you kiss your teeth and mutter, “Fine. Let’s play.”

Paige immediately grins at your response, clearly eager for some more excitement (as if her night hasn’t been filled with enough of that already), tossing the voice changer across the room. She leans down, pressing her lips against your hipbone as she twists the knife back around to the sharp end, trailing the tip along your thong teasingly. You feel yourself shudder a little bit at the feeling, glancing down, chin pressing into your chest as you try to get a better look.

And then Paige is effectively ruining more of your clothing, tearing the fabric of your thong apart with the knife. It splits open, revealing your glistening cunt to the blonde.

“Paige—” you begin to protest annoyedly, irritated with her affinity of slashing your clothes apart tonight.

However, her head snaps up to look at you at the sound of your attitude leaking back into your voice. She glares, eyes narrowing as she tells you, “Shut the fuck up. Ion wanna hear none of your attitude bullshit tonight.”

You fight the urge to scoff at her, instead opting to stay quiet. You watch as she hooks her fingers around the flimsy fabric of what’s left of your thong before tossing them to the side, leaving you completely naked before her. Before you can even really process what’s going to happen next, she’s leaning in, her hot breath landing between your legs. But instead of her tongue or her lips making contact with your folds, it’s Paige’s teeth—biting at your clit. You gasp at the sensation, a little taken aback at the mixture of sting and serenity, and you can’t help but let your hand fall to her head to hold her there.

She won’t have that, though.

The feeling of your hand in her hair makes her pull back immediately, making you lose any feeling between your legs. You whimper a little at the loss, but she doesn’t care, slapping your hand away from her head. She grabs at the wrist of the same hand she’s just hit, eyes flashing at you as she pulls your arm back above your head, locking your wrists together with her fingers.

“The fuck did I tell you?” she snaps, glaring pointedly, irritation clearly seeping into her. “Keep your hands up there. Don’t fuckin’ move ’em unless I say so.”

You glare back at her, equally annoyed and turned on by her demands. She’s staring expectantly at you, waiting for a response, her nails digging into your wrists slightly. Eventually, you roll your eyes and cave, muttering, “Fine, Jesus.”

You watch as her eyes narrow at the bratty tone of your voice, though—surprisingly—she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t snap at you again to behave yourself. But she also doesn’t do anything. She removes her hands from your wrists, making sure you keep them up there, but, after that, she doesn’t make herself useful in any way. Instead, she leans back a little, her body still between your parted legs, just staring. She keeps her lips pursed as her eyes flick between your face and your glistening cunt that’s on full display before her, just inches away. You shift your hips a little, hoping she’ll get the message and do something for you, but she doesn’t. She just keeps watching you, eyes tracking the movement of your hips, keeping herself still.

You whine a little, nails digging into the couch armrest above you. “What’re you waiting for?” you finally retort, very annoyed by this point.

However, that annoyance seems to seep out of you pretty quickly as you feel the tip of the knife blade dig into your hip bone, just enough that if Paige pushed it any harder, it would certainly draw blood. You swallow a little, looking up at the blonde, trying to hold your ground.

“Enough with the fuckin’ attitude, ma,” she says firmly, clearly as tired of your shit as you are of here. You feel her begin to trail the blade along your skin slightly, before she’s adding, “And what—you already forgot one of my rules?”

You furrow you eyebrows at the question, not sure what she’s referring to. All you can really feel is the heat between your legs, and the stark cold metal of the knife against your skin.

She clicks her tongue at your obvious confusion, tipping the knife against you, breaking the skin ever so slightly. It doesn’t really hurt, just stings some, and you look down to see the tiniest bit of blood surrounding the cut she’s made, a hint of crimson tainting the silver of the knife. And then Paige is crawling a little forward, so that she’s hovering over you, and you feel yourself shiver beneath her.

She leans closer, her breath hot against your cheek, the cold metal of the knife now grazing along the curve of your jaw, before slowly, deliberately, moving toward your lips. She traces the blade across your lower lip, and you feel the wetness of your own blood against it.

“Open,” she orders, her tone firm, eyes alight with a mixture of control and something more primal.

Your heart races, but you do as she says, parting your lips slightly. The flat of the blade presses against your tongue, leaving the metallic taste of your blood in your mouth. She’s watching you do it intensely, pupils blown and eyes focused. And then she’s pulling it back, teasing you, leaving your body tense and wanting. Her lips quirk into a smirk, clearly pleased with the way your body reacts beneath hers, the power she holds over you.

Then she straightens, pulling the knife away, her expression both playful and commanding as she watches you intently. Her voice is soft, but dripping with authority, “You gotta beg for it, baby.”

You bite your lip, staring defiantly up at Paige, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you beg. You can see the flicker of frustration in her eyes as her grip on the knife tightens. She leans in, her breath fanning across your skin, but you hold firm, a smirk playing on your lips despite the tension crackling between you. You’re playing with fire, and you know it.

It’s right then where Paige’s patience snaps. Her hand shoots up to grab your jaw, her fingers pressing into your skin, hard enough to hurt some. “You’re being a real bitch tonight,” she husks, eyes narrowing as her thumb brushes over your lower lip. “I think I might just have to punish you for it.”

You can feel your heart race at her words, but you refuse to back down, a flicker of defiance still lingering in your expression, a slight smirk still pulling up your lips.

Paige tilts her head, her grip tightening slightly. “Oh, you think this is funny? You think you can just act like this and get away with it?” she continues, her voice low and controlled, though you can feel the anger bubbling underneath. “Fine. If you won’t beg, then you don’t get to make a single sound.”

You feel your eyes widen without thinking about it, realizing what she’s getting at, but she only smirks at your reaction.

“If you make any noise,” Paige says, leaning in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “then I won’t let you finish. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Not until you learn how to fucking behave.” Her voice is dripping with authority, every word hanging between you like a challenge.

You swallow hard, trying to steel yourself, but the way she’s looking at you—like she’s already won this round—makes it difficult. You know she’s pushing your limits, testing just how far she can take this.

She doesn’t wait for you to answer, instead crawling back down your body, keeping your thighs spread open, resting herself between them. Immediately getting to work, probably impatient herself, her mouth attaches to the skin of your inner thigh, sucking harshly, certainly enough to leave a mark for tomorrow. And then she’s kissing her way up to the cut she’s imprinted on your hip, ghosting her tongue along the small sliver of slashed skin and the blood that rests with it. It stings, and you hear yourself gasp, whimpering at the feeling. She’s not fond of that, though, wanting you to stay quiet as she’s told you, so she pinches your thigh hard. You fight to not let the noise that’s burrowed itself in your throat get through, swallowing it down. If you behave, you’ll get what you want—so you might as well just let her have her fun.

She’s getting closer to where you need her, her nose brushing against your clit as she ghosts her lips along the side of your pussy, teasing you. You shift your hips slightly, desperate for the friction you’ve been needing, but her hands grab at each hip bone, holding you down so you stay still.

And then she’s diving in, pressing her tongue to your aching cunt, licking a long stripe right up between your folds. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the long awaited pleasure, keeping silent just as she told you to. She presses her mouth against you completely, enough to feel her every breath on you, rolling her tongue right against your clit.

Paige moans a little against you, sending vibrations through you that have your legs shaking. As she continues rolling her tongue in that famous, miraculous rhythm of hers against your bundle of nerves, one of her hands reaches up to your tit, thumb brushing along the nipple and pinching it.

You bite your lip, finally being a good girl and listening to Paige’s demands like she’s wanted this whole time. You stay silent, though your breaths come quicker, faster, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Paige’s hand.

She glances up at you, smirking against you as she catches sight of the beads of sweat forming along your skin, your flushed face, the way you’re fighting to stay quiet. Her tongue slides along the expanse of your slit before slipping inside of you, making your thighs quiver and a tiny gasp to escape your lips. Paige glares up at you warningly at that, making sure you remember well that if you’re not quiet, you’re not cumming.

And then she’s returning her focus back to your pussy, sliding her tongue in and out of you a couple times in a slow rhythm. You can tell she’s enjoying this by the way her eyes slip shut, brows furrowing in concentration. She then brings her mouth back up to your clit, flicking her tongue up and down, up and down, up and down, in a way that makes you see stars. You dig your nails into your palms, squeezing your eyes shut at the euphoric feeling.

“Shit,” Paige mumbles as she pulls away, staring at your soaking cunt before adding to the wetness, spitting on you. She watches her saliva slide between your folds and then leans in to lap it up with her tongue. She moans against you, probably at the taste, saying, “You’re gonna kill me with this pussy, baby. Could eat you forever.”

You let out a long, shaky breath at the words, scrunching your face up a little she sucks on your clit. Hard. You feel her teeth scrape against it, too, and you swear your nails are going to draw blood if you dig them any deeper into your skin.

Breathing heavily, she suddenly pulls up and sits on her knees between your legs, letting go of your hips and pushing your legs further apart. Looking down between them, Paige is suddenly thrusting three of her fingers into you without any warning. You can’t help it—it makes you shudder out something between a moan and a gasp, exclaiming, “Fuck!”

Paige won’t have that for a second, immediately pulling her fingers out of you to slap your pussy. “Shut the fuck up,” she tells you, biting along your skin as she slowly crawls up to your face again. “Can’t ever fuckin’ listen to me, can you?” she asks, her fingers trailing to your clit, circling it harshly. It makes your legs shudder and shake and you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Couldn’t help it,” you murmur, gasping as you feel the heat in your stomach begin to rise, the coil getting ready to snap.

Paige’s fingers find their way back inside you, all three of them pumping. Your pussy squelches with her relentless pace, the sounds beyond filthy. Her other hand has found it’s way back to your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck, your pulse racing against her hand. “Don’t lie,” she snaps, eyes flitting between your face and the way her fingers are thrusting into you with absolutely no mercy. “You’re not a bitch, I’ve seen you take worse.”

You whimper a little at her words and it only makes her fingers speed up, sliding in and out and then curling in a come hither motion, making you see stars. “Y’know, Kelsey wanted to fuck me,” Paige taunts. Your eyes flash open at the words, the same flare of jealousy and anger rushing into you as remember the night at the bar. Realistically, you know you shouldn’t still care, especially as your gaze darts to see a quick glance of Kelsey’s dead body across the room. But, still, Paige’s words send a rush of irritation through you. She can tell, and she smirks, her thumb now abusing your clit as her fingers continue their pace. “You think she coulda kept quiet? Think she woulda been a good girl for me? She seemed very sweet.”

“She’s dead,” you grunt out, trying not to let Paige’s words get in the way of the feeling of her fingers in you, on you. “So I guess you’ll never know.”

That makes Paige’s hand squeeze your neck a little, enough for you to cry out at the dual sensation of that and her thrusting fingers. It’s all getting too much, the heat building as Paige’s pace keeps steady, your hips rising to meet her digits as they pump in and out. “Fuck, you make me crazy,” the blonde says, her lips trailing to your neck to suck a mark against your skin. “Such a brat, baby.”

The sensation between your legs has you forgetting Paige’s rules, and you think that at this point, she’s forgotten them, too, because your hands are moving from above your head to tangle in her ponytail, tugging as her fingers curl inside you. She doesn’t do anything to stop you, instead humming against your neck.

“P,” you manage to gasp out, voice shaking. You’re faintly aware that you’re sweating, your hair sticking sticking to your damp forehead and neck, your whole body pulsing with heat. “Paige, ‘m gonna cum.”

Paige nods against you, her tongue swiping against the hollow of your throat, her fingers thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. Vaguely, you wonder if her hand is cramping yet. “I know, baby,” she says a little breathlessly, against your skin. “Come on, ma, give it to me. Wanna feel it bad.”

You let out a shaky cry, hands finding their way beneath Paige’s shirt, nails digging into her back, certainly leaving scratch marks. Every thrust, every breath that Paige takes against your skin—it’s all too much, and you can feel herself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, the pleasure building with every second.

And then you’re moaning out, “Oh my God—fuck!” as the coil within you snaps, your back arching against Paige’s hand, your heart racing. “Fuck,” you say again, quieter this time, trying to blink away the stars in your vision.

Your breath comes in quick bursts as you slowly come down from your high, feeling a euphoric mixture of adrenaline and warmth coursing through your veins. You lean back against the couch cushions, now damp with blood and your own arousal, your skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Paige presses further into you, her breath hot and feverish against your neck, and you feel her say your name against your skin. And then she’s slowly pulling her fingers out of your soaking cunt, trailing them up to your mouth as she draws back slightly.

She slips them past your lips and you let her, mouth sucking her fingers clean, tongue gliding along her digits. The way her eyes glaze over watching you do it, lust filling her pupils, makes you think that you’re about to get fucked into oblivion for a round two. But then her gaze trails somewhere behind your head—probably to Kelsey’s dead body, if you had to guess—and she’s sighing, resigned, as she pulls her fingers from your mouth, tangling them in your hair. She presses her lips against yours firmly for just a moment, before she’s pulling away, saying, a smirk pulling the corners of her lips up, “We gotta go before they catch us.”

You frown a little, pouting as you say, “Fun’s over.”

She shakes her head slightly at you, still smirking as she responds, “Nah, when we get home, we can have all the fun you want.” And then she’s reaching down onto the floor, grabbing the ghostface mask and slipping it over your head, covering your face. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You slip into your clothes quickly, watching as Paige grabs the knife and checks around the room to see if either of you have forgotten anything. Once you’re ready, the two of you open the apartment door, leaving your mess for someone to find later. However, you and Paige leave, she of course does not forget to call out into the empty apartment, “Bye, Kelsey!”

The door slams shut behind you, and, obviously, there is no response back.

[huellitaa]

𓏲˳˚⊹ 🧸 become obsessed with yourself.

you are stupid. i said it. there. you are stupid.

let me get this straight. you are out here listening to these people who make you insecure. you are listening and actually giving a shit about people who put you down, make you feel unworthy, inferior, less of the absolute goddess that you are. you people please, you go above and beyond to help people & change yourself for people who would never do the same and for what. for people to like you? honey nobodys gonna like you. you dont even like yourself.

listen ml you need to get your priorities straight. sit down for a sec. like. just sit and genuinely ask yourself "what do i get out of this? how does this serve me?". go on, ask yourself. all these people who constantly think theyre better than you, that they can walk all over you, the ones that dont care a bit for you with their actions even if their words say otherwise, all these habits that only make you feel more low, more insecure, and dont align with where you wanna go in any way, shape or form. honey how in the hell does any of this serve you ???😭😭

i am sick to death of seeing the word selfish everywhere the moment somebody steps up and is brave enough to try and better themselves. the amount of times ive gotten "youre so selfish" or "youve changed" or "you werent like this before" jst because i got out of the most severe depression of my life where i came close to being unalive so many times is riDICULOUS and just shows how normalised insecurity and people pleasing is nowadays.

you see, people are always trying to follow the trend, follow the leader, follow everyone else nowadays. nobody actually honours what they want & that is a reflection of their own insecurity and traumas and emotions they are too scared to face. do you really want that for yourself? youve got such big dreams, such big potential, but what on earth do you do to fulfill them?

i dont think you realise just how limitless you actually are. you can do anything. we are all born the same. its only those with the courage to get up and try who will reach what they want and achieve greater things.

GET OBSESSED WITH YOURSELF. i am so DRAINED and TIRED of caring about what people think. i like something? im gonna do it. i dont care. fuck people pleasing. what are they gonna do when youre rich and famous and successful and thriving? YOU ARE THE ONLY VALIDATION YOU NEED. life is so much easier when you genuinely could not care less, like you just dont give a single shit. you are the only person who knows you inside out and will be there with you 24/7 365. it infuriates me how self hatred is so normalised nowadays. like what the actual fuck, why would you wanna spend your entire life hating the only person whos gonna be with you every second without fail, when you are perfectly capable of reversing that???? its ridiculous.

get up. get obsessed with yourself. the only validation you should be chasing is your own. pull yourself together girl. this is ridiculous. you are so much more than this. start acting like it. be ur own biggest fan. be ur own bestest friend. everything you need is already within you. u got this. 💕

all my love 💓✨💗💘🎀💖

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Sixteen

Eddie leans heavily on Steve as he walks. His whole body looks knobbly; he’s far too thin again, having clearly lost all of the weight he put on beforehand. His legs shake as he takes one tentative step after another, the blanket barely held together in Steve’s free hand, desperate to keep a little warmth for Eddie.

Steve is still favoring his injury a little when he walks, and that isn’t exactly helping things.

When they finally makes it to the stairs, Steve has to white knuckle the hand rail and take half of Eddie’s weight. Eddie struggles so much to pull himself up, one torturous step after another, and Steve’s foot really is a hindrance.

They really need to eat; especially Eddie, but he’s so crusted in filth he smells absolutely horrendous. His eyes look so sore too; Steve can’t ignore it, they have to get cleaned up. The last thing he needs is for Eddie to go through all of that only to die of a stupid fucking infection.

And thinking of that makes Steve remember that he’s just dipped his own injury in all that filth; he really needs to get cleaned up himself.

They finally make it, and Steve drops the blanket and helps Eddie over the edge of the tub and in, taking down the shower head so he can turn the water away while it warms up. Eddie just lies there, shivering with either cold or exertion or shock; or a mix of all three.

Steve uses his free hand to strip himself naked, his sweat pants are soaked to the knees in filth, the rest of him is pretty crusted from holding Eddie, he leaves all their dirty things in a heap, kicking it over into the corner of the bathroom with his uninjured foot.

Steve starts to rinse Eddie down, and he shifts under the feel of the warm water, eyes opening, “Stee.”

“Hey baby...lets get you cleaned up, okay?”

Eddie, with what looks like an extreme bit of effort, pulls himself up, making room. Steve gets in, kneeling between Eddie’s shaky calves.

Eddie doesn’t seem to have a single hair on his body anywhere; his head is completely bald, no eyebrows, nothing. It makes his ears look even more obviously pointed. His teeth haven’t changed either; just a tiny bit sharp. Steve grabs a flannel, resting the shower head for a second while he lathers it up.

Eddie’s head ridges are still there, but way less obvious than they were before. Steve finds them by touch, slightly raised lines on Eddie’s skull, but nothing else; like what would have once split has now healed over. Sealed.

Gone.

Steve works his way down, the water running down the drain a miserable black brown color that's leaving streaks on the bottom of the tub. Steve carefully cleans, but his eyes keep dipping; it’s kind of hard to miss the fact the Eddie doesn’t seem to have anything at all between his legs.

The filth comes off slowly, Steve using the flannel and shower head in tandem, scrubbing as gently as he can, “close your eyes baby,” Steve cleans around them carefully, wiping all the dried crud off the lids.

He cleans Eddie everywhere, the bumps of his ribs, between his toes, under his nails. Eddie still doesn’t have a belly button or nipples. His fingernails remain black almond shaped claws; his toenails though, look completely human, totally normal.

Steve finds he does have something between his legs, a narrow slit that was nearly invisible when Eddie was covered in crap. Steve cleans him there just as carefully, Eddie shifting his legs, lifting a thigh, to help, “Stee?”

“Nearly done baby,” Steve stands, putting the shower head back on the holder so he can quickly wash himself, taking a moment to carefully clean the area with the stitches, “you hungry? Food?”

“Food. Yes.”

Eddie leans forward, mouth open, letting the shower spray land on his tongue before closing and swallowing and doing it again, “thirsty?”

“Yes. Water.”

“Okay, we can do that next,” Steve finishes up, getting out of the tub carefully and toweling himself dry, before helping Eddie out on his incredibly shaky legs. Steve sits him on the lid of the toilet, ditching their toothbrushes into the sink so he can fill the cup with water.

Eddie, hand unsteady, drinks the whole thing in three long gulps. He does the same with the second. He sips the third more slowly while Steve dries himself off the rest of the way and leaves Eddie wrapped in a towel so he can find them some clothes. He also takes a minute to get out the first aid kit, propping his foot on the edge of the tub, he dabs disinfectant thoroughly over his stitches, “Stee ow?”

“No baby, it’s fine now. Promise.”

“Called promise?”

“Uhm...it means I tell many many many true? Like I promise it’s okay.”

Eddie cocks his head, and Steve’s heart feels tight in his chest with how much he missed him, how close they came to loosing him, “perfect true?”

Steve nods, “kinda’ yeah.” He packs the first aid kit away, “lets get you onto the bed, and I’ll go down and make-”

“No.”

“Eddie, you need to eat-”

Eddie grabs Steve’s hand, holding tight, “no.”

“Okay. Okay yeah, we go together.”

“To-gether.”

Eddie goes down the stairs on his ass, moving both feet together, dropping one step at a time, the same way he did when he had a tail. Steve doesn’t fight it, he just waits at the bottom. They can work on all of that shit another time. Stairs can be lesson three, after lifting with your knees, or something.

They hobble into the kitchen together, like the worlds shittest three legged race competitors, and Steve gets Eddie into a chair at the table in the breakfast nook. His heart sinks at the sight of the inside of the fridge; there’s fuck all food for Eddie, and what's in the crisper draw is either soft or fully gone off.

“I’ll get you some peas, be right back.”

Steve grabs a bag out of the freezer; Eddie looks so tired, slumped at the table in one of his sweaters and a pair of Steve’s sleep pants. Steve makes him a bowl of peas and sticks a spoon in it, putting it on the table.

Eddie takes a spoonful quite enthusiastically, then immediately pulls a face. He does chew, and he does swallow, but he’s clearly not impressed, “cold.”

“Yeah baby, they’re always cold.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, “bad.”

“Oh. Well...I’ll make them hot?”

Eddie nods, pushing the bowl back. Steve takes the bowl, swapping them into a pot with some water and putting them on to boil. He decides to make himself bacon and eggs in a second pan while he waits, since that’ll be fast and easy.

He keeps looking over at Eddie; he can’t help himself really. Steve’s half convinced that this is one of those horrible dreams, and that something fucking awful will happen any second now. He looks so ill; it’s amazing how much of a stark difference the lack of hair has made to his appearance; it's, somehow, more shocking than his legs.

Steve flips his bacon and shuffles his eggs, then looks over again at Eddie. He’s up. Steve waits, breath held, as Eddie takes a dozen, tentative and shuffling steps across the kitchen. Steve stands with his hands out, ready to dart forward. He can’t help but think of a toddler taking his first steps unaided. Eddie makes it to Steve, taking both hands for the last few steps, “that’s great baby. You have legs!”

Eddie smiles wanly, “legs good...food?”

He looks over Steve’s shoulder at the pan, “yeah, you want to try?”

Eddie nods eagerly, and Steve slides the bacon and eggs onto his plate, giving Eddie the fork. Eddie eats both rashers of bacon with his fingers, using his claw like nails to lift the hot food and blow on it before he shoves it in, then he eats the eggs with the fork.

Steve’s toast pops while Eddie’s eating, “food?” he asks with his mouth still full of egg.

“Yeah baby, here,” Steve spreads both pieces with jelly, and Eddie eats those too, leaning against the counter. He seems a little better suddenly, a little more alert maybe.

“Stee food now?”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.” Steve makes it all again, Eddie watching avidly where he’s propped up against the counter; on a hunch, Steve makes twice what he wants to eat, pleased when he’s right, and Eddie picks off his plate, eating more.

Eddie burps, then looks shocked that the noise just came out of him. Steve laughs so much his eyes water.

They both stand at the bottom of the stairs, and it feels like looking up at mount Everest.

“Okay, we can do this buddy.”

“Not budidy. Baby.”

Steve sighs, smiling, “you got it baby.”

After what feels to Steve like forty days and forty nights of toil, they make it to the top. Eddie is very unsteady on his feet, like his obvious exhaustion is making his coordination worse again.

“Clean teeth,” he tells Steve on their way to bed.

“In the morning. They’re not going to fall out if we miss it once,” and the bathroom feels about fifty million miles away at this point.

They climb into bed together, and Eddie is asleep pretty much instantly. He’s snoring softly, quiet, but enough for Steve to hear it clearly. It makes it feel real almost. A confirmation that Eddie is really here, that he’s different now. Eddie never used to make a sound when he was sleeping; and now he does. Eddie has a leg thrown over Steve’s, and that’s real too.

Part Eighteen

[haikyuuhoo]

if i could bring you anything, i swear to god i'd bring you peace

pairing: suguru x reader

wc: 811

a/n: had a sad girl moment yesterday, so enjoy this fluff i dredged up from the depths of my drafts <3

listen

The muffled sound of your music goes quiet, and you wait a few beats before pushing yourself up to check what’s wrong. You take a deep breath as you breach the surface of the water, lungs burning at the intake of air, and your eyebrows pinch together almost immediately in annoyance at the sight in front of you.

“What are you doing?” Suguru isn’t even trying to hide the amused, albeit slightly concerned, look on his face. He’s sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, spinning your phone between his fingers.

“Having a sad girl bathtub moment, what does it look like?” you huff, leaning forward to grab the device—he really had the nerve to stop the music in the middle of such a good song—but he holds it above his head and out of your reach.

“Like you’re trying to see how long you can hold your breath. Like you dropped your ring but it fell down the drain when you were trying to get it and you don't know how to tell me so now you’ve given up. Like maybe I should be more worried. Should I be more worried?” He raises an eyebrow and you let out a quiet sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly with the motion, and the sight makes it feel like a weight has settled on his chest.

“No, I’m fine, can I please just have my music back?” You stick your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the puppy dog eyes you know usually make him fold.

But Suguru still doesn’t hand over your phone and instead sets it on the counter. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Rough day?”

His voice is so soft it threatens to break down the walls you’ve been holding up since you got out of bed that morning.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I just didn’t know when you’d be home, and—”

“You could have texted me.” Suguru frowns, but you wave him off.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I wasn’t gonna bother you.”

Suguru lets out an almost exasperated laugh, and the sound makes your belly warm. “Anything that makes you want to do this is a big enough deal to me.” He grabs your phone off the counter. “Tell you what. You have until I’m done making dinner to finish sad girl bathtub hours. You can still be sad, and we can talk about your day if you want to, or we can do something else. But what I’m not going to let you do is turn into a human-sized prune in our bathtub.” He sets your phone on the edge of the tub and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Okay?”

You nod slowly, relaxing at the lingering feeling of his lips on your skin before tilting your head up to urge him into a kiss.

Suguru hums into your mouth, pulling back for a fleeting moment to nudge his nose against your cheek. “Say okay,” he whispers.

 “Okay,” you breathe, and you lean closer to capture his lips again and deepen the kiss. You pull one hand out from under the water and cup his jaw before pushing your fingers into his hair, your teeth flashing in the briefest glimpse of a grin at the way he jumps when water trickles down his neck.

He pulls away and you have to fight off a laugh as he wipes at the back of his head and noticeably shivers. “I’ll call for you when dinner’s ready.”

“Or…” You tilt your head to the side and give him a sweet smile. “You could join me?”

Suguru huffs out a ‘no-fucking-way’ laugh and shakes his head. “Absolutely not. That water is way too cold.” You pout, but he’s already standing up and turning toward the door. “I mean it. We can have sad girl blanket burrito hours or sad girl movie marathon hours, but we’re not going to have sad-girl-getting-hypothermia-in-the-bath hours.”

And this time you do laugh, and in that moment you both know he’s made the breakthrough you needed from him. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He nods, and he begins making his way back out of the bathroom when you call for him.

“Suguru?”

He turns back around and raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

“I love you,” you murmur with a voice so soft it makes his heart swell. “And thank you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I love you too.”

You watch him leave the bathroom and then close your eyes, letting yourself take what feels like the first deep breath you’ve been able to manage all day. And then you look at where your phone is still resting on the side of the tub, waiting for you to press play, and you reach forward and pull the drain.

fun fact i felt like i needed to title this some phoebe bridgers lyric but i'm sadly not a phoebe girlie and i couldn't lie to y'all like that

reblogs & comments always appreciated <3

[onlygarden]

[are you even listening?] - park sunghoon

genre: fluff, suggestive, tiniest bit of angst (most of the 'tense' moments are just meant to be taken lightheartedly)

description: while arguing with your boyfriend, you begin to notice his focus drifting elsewhere...

a/n: this fic came to me in a frenzy and i absolutely needed to bring it to life. i should be sleeping right now, but that wasn't gonna happen until i finally finished this lmao (rescue me). also the thought of sunghoon saying ‘princess’ is driving me fucking wild so i included that heavily in this heheh

the sound of your exasperated and saddened sigh floats to sunghoon’s ears, and the sound of your troubled figure traveling up the stairs follows soon after. without a shred of reluctance, he follows you into the bedroom of your home with hurried footsteps. 

“princess, wait. just listen to me, okay?” 

‘just listen to me,’ he says. spoken as though you hadn’t just discovered him effortlessly complaining about you while on the phone with heeseung, rattling on about the fact that he finds you to be a ‘real pain in the ass sometimes.’ serving only to make matters worse, sunghoon reinforced his statement, and even accused you of overreacting.

“i’ve already listened, sunghoon. i know just what you think of me,’ you utter flatly, beginning to slip out of your casual sundress. your eyes remained adamant in their desire to avoid his pleading gaze. 

the frustration begins to drain steadily out of sunghoon’s body as he watches your dress fall to the floor. as much as he wished to remain focused on the argument at hand, he just couldn’t help but admire your figure as you stood before him in your undergarments — every course of your body, the memories of your velvety skin under his hands, the way your thong hugged the flesh of your hips — it was all too much.

 

he quickly shakes these seemingly inescapable thoughts, wishing to maintain focus on the argument at hand (and most importantly, to avoid upsetting you further). 

sunghoon swallows heavily before responding, due to a sudden dryness arising in his mouth. “no, princess. i swear that’s not what i think of you at all, it was just–” he hesitates a moment before completing his thought—  “it was just a stupid joke.” 

your eyes meet his, an air of disbelief flowing within them. “a joke? no sunghoon, you meant what you said,” you respond. as the words tumble from your distressed lips, you pull your pajamas out of your dresser, beginning to slip into them. 

sunghoon’s gaze follows your shorts as they glide along your legs, settling deliciously around the plush swell of your ass. by now, he’s entranced by your form in front of him, desperately attempting to grasp onto your concerns and the issue at hand. god, he’s trying so hard to shift his attention elsewhere, but it’s nearing the realm of impossibility. sunghoon’s eyes travel to your waist, the curves of it displayed proudly as your camisole clings to your figure. 

his breathing begins to deepen, the labored efforts clear in his voice. “(y/n), i promise you i didn’t mean a word i said, okay? stop being so—” 

sunghoon’s voice withers away, and a surge of arousal passes through his body at the scene before him; you bend down to arrange a few clothes in the bottom drawer of the dresser, and your shorts deviously disclose more of your ass — as if their fabric was very generous to begin with. now, only a fragment of his conviction remains, and the desire to make you writhe underneath him ruthlessly outshines his slight irritation. 

you straighten up and meet his eyes with a twinge of doubt in your expression, hoping your intuition is wrong.

“stop being so what, sunghoon? were you going to call me sensitive?”

sunghoon sighs. he’s drowning helplessly in his aching desire for you, shamelessly distracted by the beautiful shape of your body before him, wishing to see the end of this argument so he can finally throw you onto the bed and pound you into delirium. however, he only seems to be making matters worse by the second. 

“princess, i- i’m sorry… please just believe me when i say that i didn’t mean a single word i said,” he pleads, sincerity entangled in his words. sunghoon is beginning to grow frustrated with himself for even making you upset in the first place.

you head into the bathroom, telling him how much you ‘can’t believe’ he thinks you’re being sensitive about this, your mind and body still brawling with reluctance to forgive him. when you grab your toothbrush and begin to brush your teeth, sunghoon’s eyes can’t help but latch onto the way your ass and thighs jiggle delicately with each movement of your arm. it was as though your body was magnetized; he felt as if his eyes were struggling against some sort of compelling force as they attempted to ignore the hypnotic spell that your body cast on him.

goddamn, you’ve got to know what you’re doing to him, right?

a strained breath escapes sunghoon’s throat, and his eyes flutter shut as a powerful gush of arousal burns through his body. beyond his own control, sunghoon’s cock begins to press against the suddenly suffocating confines of his pants. 

you belatedly gain awareness of sunghoon’s raging desire as you notice his gaze in the mirror. “are you fucking serious, sunghoon? are you even paying any attention?” you ask, referring to the way his eyes ogled your backside in such a pervy and wicked manner.

sunghoon’s expression morphs into one of guilt and slight impatience; he knows that your discovery will only serve to prolong this argument, which will further prevent him from divulging in the pleasure of watching the flesh of your ass and thighs swell lusciously around his fingers as he squeezes them.

“i- yes, i’m paying attention. it’s just… it’s really hard to focus when you’re standing there looking so damn good.”

you sigh and quickly rinse your mouth, the exasperation inside of you only blossoming further upon his blatant admission. however, despite the harm his earlier words caused you, a slight, undeniable warmth visits your face at his bold compliment, too.

you crawl into bed, slipping under the blanket. “i’m not going to talk to you if you’re not even taking me seriously,” you say, your displeasure with his behavior evident in your colorless voice. 

sunghoon battles no hesitation to accompany you in bed — he sits beside you, grabs your hand, and meets your eyes with a gentle expression. 

“princess, don’t do this. i’m taking you seriously, i swear. what were you trying to tell me, hm? why were you so upset?”

his tone effortlessly melts your irritation, and you begin confiding in him about the manner in which he hurt you, albeit reluctantly. you tell him that his ‘joke’ didn’t tickle your humor at all, you tell him how much worse it was that he was speaking poorly about you to someone else, you tell him that you didn’t appreciate being called sensitive — blah, blah, blah.

the words coming from your mouth begin to jumble together in sunghoon’s crude, desire-ridden mind. although sunghoon knew just how wrong he was, that simple fact didn’t serve to deter him from continuing to do it. his eyes fall to your lips, then inevitably flicker down to the bit of your neck and collarbone exposed from beneath the blanket. his connection to the conversation grows unstable as he revisits the erotic images of you changing into your pajama set, and his hands twitch with the insistent impulse to yank it off of you. at this point, sunghoon isn’t even making an attempt to listen. 

as you begin to notice his distant expression, a sigh drifts from your lips. 

“really, sunghoon?” you interject. you turn over in bed, relinquishing any further determination to continue this futile argument.

sunghoon is violently snatched away from his thoughts, and guilt begins to burn the edges of his skin.

“wait, (y/n)! i was listening, i swear–” 

you turn your head to face him for a moment, indulging his obvious lie. “yea? then what did i say?” 

sunghoon’s mind kicks into overdrive, working relentlessly to recall even a fragment of your words. “uh… you said something about… being sensitive,” he feebly recalls.

“yeah, i’m going to sleep,” you huff, turning back around. 

“princess, wait!” sunghoon’s voice raises slightly in desperation. “don’t be mad, okay? i can’t stand it when you’re mad at me like this,” he soothes, and he begins to rub your shoulder, hoping to unwind the tension that his actions stirred within you. 

“look at me,” he says, his voice tender enough to soften all traces of lingering irritation.

you turn to face him, absorbing his melodic expression; his eyes implored you to forgive him, staring directly into yours as if he was trying to learn them all over again. a gentle smile tugs at the corners of his lips as his eyes swim graciously in yours.

“i’m sorry... i really am. i don’t want to fight with you. i didn’t mean what i said before, and i didn’t mean to get so distracted, okay? i was being an idiot.” 

his thumb glides over your face, floating subtly over the skin of your cheek, urging a smile from the bounds of your pouty expression.

his voice is equally as wispy as his touch, extinguishing the minor fury within you. “i love you, you know? please say you forgive me.” 

your smile blooms in full, and you sit up alongside him in bed. “i love you too, baby. i’m not mad about it anymore, i promise.”

sunghoon settles a hand upon your thigh, allowing it to coast upwards, his still aching desire now struggling desperately against the reins. 

both of his hands take hold of your hips, and he drags your body closer to his, the sound of his voice descending to a low, filthy whisper. “let me make it up to you, yea?”

[scratchandfriends]

Shut Me Up (+18)

This is my formal application to join the Holy Rolan Empire. Who do I need to talk to about this?

Pairing: Rolan x Female Tav (human sorceress in mind because that’s my tav lmao)

WC: 3000 oops

Summary: All you do is save the day and yap. It drives Rolan up a fucking wall. He absolutely cannot stand you… or so he is trying to convince himself. This would be so much easier for him if you weren’t so damn cute. 

Content Warnings: alcohol consumption, angry sex, face fucking, teasing, oral m receiving, unprotected sex (don't), creampies, making out, aggressive kissing, hair pulling, PRAISE KINK GOOD BOY ROLAN (because somebody needs to tell him), he just has a big fat crush on you.

— — 

First, it was killing the goblins attacking the grove. 

Then, it was defending Last Light from the cultists. 

Then, it was rescuing the gnomes and tieflings from Moonrise Towers. 

And on top of all that, you just had to save his sorry tail from the Shadow Curse. 

Jaheira had given the go-ahead to dip into the extra supplies for a bit of fun to increase morale and celebrate the safe return of the captives… and of course, much to Rolan’s dismay, you were the belle of the ball. Even his own damn siblings were fawning of you and your rowdy companions, but he let his annoyance lie since you did save their lives after all. 

He should be grateful, shouldn’t he? You brought his family back together and saved many more from death or a lifetime of grief. You kept Last Light safe from the Shadow Curse and were planning on defeating Ketheric and the Absolute yourself. Your heroics were not lost on him, and judging by your behavior here at the party, they were not lost on you either. 

Rolan sat at the bar nursing another bottle of wine alone as he watched you with a scowl. You had discarded your usual robes for a glittering, light-blue party dress, no doubt stolen, Rolan thought. You danced energetically with that massive, brutish tiefling woman, both of you spilling wine all over yourselves and the floor. Your long, blueish silver hair cascaded down past your shoulders and just kissed the exposed skin above your lower back, the milky skin shown by your backless dress peeking out at him as your hair moved when you danced. 

“Enjoying the show, brother?” Cal’s teasing voice comes from behind Rolan’s barstool. 

“We could be killed at any moment, hardly a time for anyone to be enjoying anything.” Rolan remarked as he straightened his back and his eyes were peeled away from you. 

“Always such a stick in the mud. Would it kill you to have fun for once?” Lia appeared on the opposite side of Rolan and rolled her eyes. 

“In this situation? Perhaps. Someone should be aware of their surroundings at a time like this.” Rolan quips. 

“Judging by how much of that bottle you’ve drained, I wouldn’t say you’re entirely aware.” Cal says. 

“I have to tolerate the company somehow.” Rolan snorts and takes another sip. 

“Well I’d practice your manners, your favorite little sorceress is coming this way now.” Lia says with a smirk. 

“Come on, we’re missing you all on the dance floor! I’ve tipped Alfira greatly, I think my favorite song is coming up soon!” You sidle up to the bar across from the tieflings and put your elbows on the bar top. “Missing even you, grumpy.” You flash Rolan a cheeky smile. 

“I’m perfectly content here. Drunkenly frolicking like an imbecile isn’t relevant to my interests.” The wizard snips at you with a frown. 

“Aaah, I see! Makes sense. So you won’t be needing this anymore, then.” You say as you snatch Rolan’s bottle of wine off the counter in front of him and take a heavy swig. 

“Give that back.” Rolan says with a slight snarl, baring pointed teeth. Rolan reaches an arm out across the bar to grasp towards his stolen bottle. 

“Oh, this? You want it back?” You say with a giggle before taking another sip from the neck of the bottle. You smile and take the opportunity to wedge the bottle down the front of your dress, lodging it tightly between your ample, exposed cleavage. “Why don’t you take it?” You ask with a devilish grin. 

“Go on, then!” Cal goads with a laugh, slapping his brother on the back. 

“Hmph. Keep it.” Rolan sits back on his barstool, feigning disinterest in your antics. “I’ll just have the kids bring me another.” 

You sigh and pull the bottle from your chest. You lean onto the bar, pushing your breasts together in the process. It doesn’t escape you how Rolan’s eyes are glued to your tits resting on the countertop. 

“You’re no fun.” You lean in close to him and whisper in a sultry tone. 

You take your stolen bottle of wine and return to your friends who were still reveling in Alfira’s lute playing. 

“What in the hells did you say to the cranky bastard?” Karlach asks while pulling your hand and spinning you around in a twirl. 

“What do you mean?” You inquire with a bit of a smirk. 

“The poor sod’s tail is twitching! No doubt something else is too. You flash him or something?” Your large friend questions. 

“Almost!” You laugh. “Just trying to see if I can get him to crack… he’s quite handsome!” 

“Try complimenting his horns, male tieflings really like that. They pride themselves on those things almost more than their cocks.” Karlach adds. 

“Hmm… good to know…” You say as the intrusive thought of Rolan’s cock enters your mind. You’d never laid with a tiefling before and you were desperately curious. Something about this wizard’s unfriendly, pompous nature intrigued you and you wanted to see what was underneath his prickly exterior. You always liked a challenge. 

— —

Another hour or so of partying goes by and you find yourself both sufficiently drunk and sufficiently bored. You sneak a glance at the bar and find Rolan standing behind it, rummaging through the shelves no doubt searching for more booze. You slink up next to him and try to peek into the cabinet he’s looking through. 

“Need help?” You pipe up. 

“Agh!” In surprise at your sudden appearance, Rolan knocks his head on the wooden cabinet door. 

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you!” You giggle and put your fingers to your lips. “Don’t want you hurting those horns of yours. They’re quite the handsome pair, you know. Best of anyone here-“ 

Rolan slams the cabinet door shut and turns to look down at your shorter figure. 

“What the hells is your problem?” Rolan seethes. “Every second of peace I have is somehow disturbed by YOU each time! You are positively infuriating!” 

“I’m just trying to be pleasant, Rolan.” You remark. 

“I am not interested in pleasantries. I’ve given you plenty of gold, I don’t know what other gratitude you want from me.” Rolan says, frustrated and annoyed. 

“Well…” You purr. “Just as you’re not interested in pleasantries, I’m not interested in gold.” You slowly move closer, your chests almost touching. You expected him to push you away, but surprisingly enough he stands in place. “Perhaps you can thank me in a different way…” You cock your head to the side flirtatiously and raise an eyebrow. 

You see Rolan’s Adam’s apple bob nervously. 

“Tav.. I.. ” He stutters. You cut him off. 

“If for whatever reason you find yourself unable to sleep tonight, I’ll be in room 104. Upstairs. Alone.. and my bed is always warm.” You wink before slinking off to the stairwell leading to the inn’s guest rooms. 

— — 

You had swapped your party dress for a short, white nightgown with lace trim and slits high up on either hip. You sat on the feather bed, brushing through your hair that had gotten tangled from the night of revelry. You had made sure to freshen up your perfume in the hopes that Rolan would take you up on your lewd offer of late night companionship. 

*knock knock*

You smirk at the gentle knock on your door. You waltz excitedly over to the door and open it. 

Sure enough, Rolan was standing in your doorframe. 

“I was hoping you’d-“

Your snarky comment was abruptly cut off by a clawed hand gripping the side of your head, tangling in your hair, while the other hand forcefully grabbing your waist to spin you around. The door slammed behind you and you were pushed against it roughly. 

Rolan pulls you by your scalp and smashes his lips on yours. 

There was no grace or eloquence in the kiss, much unlike his usual way of speaking. It was a gnashing of wet tongue and clacking of teeth as he ravaged your mouth, his grip on you never faltering. You froze at first, shocked by his boldness, but eventually you relent and open your lips further for him. You wrap your hands around his neck. 

Having had his fill from your lips, Rolan eventually moves his mouth to trail messy kisses and sharp nips from your jaw to your neck. 

“Wow, eager are-“

“Do you ever shut UP?” Rolan pulls back from your neck and growls, shoving his knee between your legs further, causing you to instinctively grind your bare sex onto his trousers. He brings his hand from your hair to grip your neck. 

“You’ll just have to shut me up, then.” You choke out with a smile, his clawed hand around your throat gently squeezing the sides. 

“It would seem so.” Rolan’s nostrils flare and he picks you up and tosses you on the bed with surprising strength for a wizard. 

You strip your nightgown over your head excitedly and lay back on the bed in as seductive of a pose as you could muster. Expecting to be either insulted or pounced upon, you sit up on your elbows in anticipation. Surprisingly, Rolan was standing at the foot of the bed, mouth agape, seemingly entranced by your nude figure laid before him. You take this opportunity to shift the tides in your favor. 

“What’s wrong, Rolan?” You say as you slowly spread your legs, exposing your swollen, dripping cunt to him. “Hellcat got your tongue?” 

This snapped him out of his daze. 

“Brat.” He scoffs before frantically shedding his own clothing. 

As he strips, you sit up on your knees on the bed so you can get a better look at your new lover. Geometric infernal ridges covered his chest and abdomen, almost guiding your eyes downward to his erect cock bobbing desperately in front of you. It was long and bright red, leaking tip more pointed than you were used to, but its most unusual feature were the prominent ridges decorating his shaft. You were dying to know how it felt in your hand… your mouth… your cunt… 

“Stop gawking, it’s not polite” Rolan says, less aggressive now than he previously was now that he was stark naked in front of you. Was he blushing? It was hard to tell. 

“How pretty you are… you have to let me play with it.” You purr as you lower yourself on your elbows, pushing your ass high in the air, wiggling it and successfully distracting Rolan from your advances towards his member. 

“Play? Is that how- shit!” Rolan gasps and curses as he feels you wrap your soft hand around his cock and stroke it slowly. 

You loll your tongue out of your mouth and place his hot tip on it, all while staring up at him lustfully. Rolan lets out a low growl and bucks his hips into your face, pushing his cock past your lips and into your eager mouth. You happily wrap your lips around his cock head and begin to slide up and down his ribbed length. His hand comes up to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and guides you along his cock. Drool pools in your mouth and dribbles out the sides and you groan in approval of his roughness. 

“Ah ah, no talking with your mouth full.” He smirks playfully down at you. 

You try to reciprocate the smile, but can’t manage much do to your mouth being forcefully stuffed full of cock. Rolan must have noticed they way your thighs were tensed and rubbed together impatiently. 

“Touch yourself. Get yourself ready to take me.” He commands. 

You spread your knees and bring one of your hands down your front to play with your wet sex. Supporting yourself on one hand, you circle your clit in time with your sultry bobs on Rolan’s cock. You slide two fingers into your soaking hole and moan around his length. You continue to work yourself up, pushing and pulling on that special spot inside of you, whimpering and sharply inhaling as you slobber all over Rolan. 

“What a sight… Gods, such a messy girl…” 

You nod happily, not removing him from your mouth. You can’t help but notice as the rough grip on your hair becomes… softer. His thumb began rubbing against your head soothingly, as if to gently encourage you to suck him off instead of demanding it. 

“That’s enough, I'm going to have you now.” He says as he cups your chin and pulls you off him, a long string of saliva still connecting the two of you. You eagerly push yourself onto your back and spread your legs wide to make room for him. 

Rolan climbs over you and teases your clit with the tip of his cock. 

“Pretty little thing you are…” He says as his eyes rake over your body. 

“Be careful, wizard, that almost sounded like a compliment.” You chide and buck your hips up into him, wordlessly pleading for him to penetrate you. 

“I would tell you to hush…” He positions himself at your entrance. “But I think now I’d like to hear every little sound that comes from those sinful lips…” 

Rolan presses into you finally and you gasp at the ridged intrusion, unlike anyone else you’ve ever laid with. You arch your back and rake your hands down the infernal ridges on his abdomen. Once you feel his hips flush with yours, you look up and see the wizards eyes screwed shut in concentration, clearly trying not to let this moment end too soon. 

You grind your pelvis into his, beckoning him to start moving inside you. 

“Nine Hells… so fucking wet…” Rolan remarks with a sigh as he starts thrusting shallowly. He grips your breasts as leverage, teasing your nipples with his thumbs. You wrap your legs around his hips, encouraging him to fuck you deeper. 

“Gods Rolan, you feel so good…” You moan out to the ceiling. 

“Y-yeah?” Rolan asks as he picks up the pace and intensity of his thrusts. 

“Yes! Fuck! You’re so good!” You cry out in pleasure as you feel those gorgeous bumps along his shaft caress your walls so deliciously. 

“I-I’m good? Say it again..” He asks shyly. “Please tell me again…” 

Suddenly, you feel his tail wrap tightly around your leg, squeezing it possessively. It was like he was holding on for his life...

“You’re so fucking good Rolan. Your cock feels so perfect inside me. Fuck me harder, you’re going to make me cum…” You feel his cock inside you twitch and you could have sworn you heard him whimper. He obliges your request and pistons his hips into you harder. You feel the familiar warmth of your impending release tingle throughout your lower half. 

Rolan slinks an arm underneath your lower back, leaning over you further in the process and cards his other hand into your hair splayed out on the pillow beneath you. 

“I’m so close, please Rolan, you’re such a good boy. I want to cum on you. Fuck, there!” You moan and pant up at him as you bring your hand up to cradle his face in your palm. You could barely keep your eyes open, but the sight above you was too delectable to miss. 

“I-I am a good boy.. please cum for me…” Rolan pathetically whines and pleads to feel your release coat him. 

“Yes Rolan, my good boy… I’m- shit!” You cry out and feel your walls begin to convulse in anticipation of your climax. With the next thrust against your sweet spot, your dam breaks and you let out a vulgar moan as your orgasm overtakes your body. 

“Fuck, yes, your good boy!” Rolan pants and fucks you through your high. “I-I’m close.. where should-?” 

“Inside. Make me yours.” You say breathlessly, still delirious from your powerful climax.  

Rolan could no longer hold back, groaning loudly as he spills himself entirely deep inside of you. He grinds himself into you as he continues to cum, seemingly endless ropes of spend decorating your wet walls. 

Once finished, Rolan gingerly slips out of you and collapses tiredly onto the mattress beside you. 

You spent the next few minutes catching your collective breaths, nothing being exchanged but soft pets and tender touches as you calmed yourselves. You were stroking Rolan’s cheek with your thumb gently when he finally spoke. 

“Nothing to say now, then?” He smiles softly, teasing you. You return the grin.

“That was incredible.” You giggle. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Rolan.” 

“Wizards are full of surprises.” He jokes, pulling your body into his, rubbing circles into your hip. “There’s certainly more where that came from…” You notice his glowing eyes dart away from yours with uncertainty. “… If you’d have me.” 

You place a tender kiss on his lips. 

“The night is still young, isn’t it?” You nuzzle your nose against his. 

“I don’t just mean tonight.. come see me in Baldur’s Gate. I.. I can show you around, if you’d like?” He still can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes again. 

“You won’t be too busy with your apprenticeship?” You question. 

“I… I can try to make time.. if it’s for you.” He says sheepishly. 

You press your chest closer into his and tilt his chin up to meet your gaze. 

“What a good boy you are.” You smirk and pull him into a deep kiss. 

— — 

[catscraaatch]

big…nose… higuruma…

need him so bad !!!!!!

oh anon you're so fucking real for this....

₊˚ପ⊹face sitting! w/higuruma

“come on sweetheart, take a seat.”

you're hovering above hiromi’s mouth, his warm breath washing over your soaked folds as you stare down at him from between your legs. he's laying there in nothing but his dress shirt, the tie around his neck loosened, eager and needy as soon as he stepped into the threshold of your home.

hiromi loved to eat pussy. yours specifically, and he was damn good at it too. he liked to bring you pleasure of course, that was just the kind of man that he was. always doting on you, always there to make you feel good after a long day and all of the moments in between.

but when it came to him eating you out? when he had you laid out on the bed, your legs spread and his head in between them– that was all for him.

it was the only time he ever let himself truly be selfish, bringing you to orgasm more times than either of you can count, until you were pushing at his head, whining and begging him to let you breath for a second, fat tears streaming down your cheeks.

the worst, best of it was nights like these, when he'd come home from work all tired and drained, his shoulders nearly touching his ears with tension. there was something else in his gaze when he looked at you, a familiar look that made all the heat in your body pool down between your thighs in anticipation.

you feel the tip of his tongue kitten lick at your aching clit making your head roll back to rest against your shoulder blades. Hiromi chuckles deeply, his glazed over eyes taking in the gorgeous sight of you on top of him.

“been waiting for this all day baby, come on give me what I want” he breathes out, his voice needy and deep, rumbling from within his chest. his big hands leave their place on your hips, sliding under and around your thighs, sticking his tongue out and pulling you down onto him.

“Oh fuck” you mewl, your face scrunching in pleasure as he begins to glide his tongue through your folds, drawing lewd circles around your clit. “thaaaats it” he moans into your pussy, the vibration making you hold onto the headboard in front of you so you don't completely suffocate the man– although he wouldn't be complaining.

behind you, his cock strained against the fabric of his boxers, the swollen leaking tip leaving a wet spot on the front of them. Hiromi was in heaven.

his tongue traced around your nub before he latched onto it, sucking it into his mouth as he opened his eyes to look up at you. “oh- r-right there hiro…ohmygod” you started to grind your hips down against him, no longer running from the pleasure of his tongue. hiromi groaned, bucking his hips up into the air.

he pulled his face away for a brief second, panting into your inner thigh and pressing a wet kiss to the skin there.

“ride my face baby.” he had that needy look in his eyes, his fingers gripping into the flesh of your thighs. he wanted you to use him– didn't care if he couldn't breathe, he didn't need to. he needed all of you.

you nodded dumbly, shakey on your legs as you scooted forward, letting go of the headboard and gripping on his hair for support. you fully seated yourself down on his waiting tongue, grinding yourself back and forth on the muscle, your head dizzy with the pleasure he was giving you.

hiromis eyes rolled back in his head as you tugged at his locs, too fucked to keep them open any longer. he let out a whine as you fucked his face, a mess of spit and your honeyed slick dripping down the corners of his mouth, leaving a mess on his chin.

you looked down at the absolutely debauched man beneath you, your hips slowing to a lewd grind. you panted, moving your hips forward, his nose bumping against your clit, making your hips jerk as you shuddered above him.

his eyes opened as he felt you slow to a stop, seeing your curious gaze on him. he let out a giggle, pulling you closer by your thighs and setting your pussy right on top of his nose. he knew what you wanted, knew despite your insistent timidness you'd always end up greedily grinding your pussy all over his face, his nose bumping against your swollen clit bringing you to orgasm as you made a pretty little mess all over him. he wanted you to use him after all.

“go ahead, make a mess all over me pretty” at those words you started moving again, letting out a breathy whine as you rode his face, clit humping up and down on the ridge of his nose.

“feels so good hiro…s-so good” he groaned at the pretty sounds you made, walls spasming against him as his tongue explored your walls, prodding at your entrance and finding that spongey spot deep inside you.

your hips wildly bucked against his face, your pace picking up as you got closer and closer to the edge. hiromi shook his head back and forth, his tongue lolled out, lapping up your slick and nudging his nose against your clit. “just like that, f-fuck jus’ like that” you whined, hiromi moaning in response as you babbled on top of him, your breaths quickening and your thighs clamping around his ears, you were cumming before you could even get the words out.

you mewled as hiromi helped you ride out your orgasm, his long tongue lapping at your soaked folds, cleaning up the mess you both had made. you were catching your breath, trying to come back to yourself when you remembered you were still sat atop his nose, and he was too pussy drunk to complain about it even if he wanted to.

you tried slinging one of your legs off of him, your body heavy with the exhaustion of your orgasm. hiromi grumbled incoherently beneath you, his hand gripping onto your thigh to pull you back down onto his mouth.

he pressed an open mouth kiss to your overstimulated clit, lewdly sucking at your folds. you gasped, trying to pull away from the overwhelming feeling, his large hands keeping you in place.

he looked up at you darkly, his chin and cheeks and nose wet with your slick as he panted against you.

“not so fast, I know you got one more for me sweetheart.”