#top losers

[satyajit492]

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[eepwtf]

UNPUNISHABLE—soldier boy boarding school au! x catholic boy

find part two here ⤷ part two

“i’m sorry,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice breaking. “God, ‘m sorry, i’m sorry.” but the words were hollow, meaningless, drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart and the unbearable ache in your body.

he cut you off with a hand on your wrist, his grip firm but not unkind. “feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. the heat in his gaze made your stomach twist, your cock twitch in your hand. “bet you’ve been pent up for weeks, huh? poor fuckin’ thing...”

warnings; religious guilt and themes , power dynamics , getting off to underwear , degradation and humiliation kink , voyeuristic elements (mirror use) , handjobs , use of the words “filthy” , and “pervert”. wc: 5.4k

benjamin had been at this boarding school long enough to know exactly how it worked. the social hierarchy, the petty squabbles, the hazing rituals—they were as predictable as the smell of old books and stale coffee in the library. he didn’t care about most of it. he played his part: good grades, a cocky smile, and enough charm to skate by without making any real enemies. but the start of a new term always brought fresh blood, and benjamin had a sixth sense for spotting the ones who wouldn’t last.

and then, there was you.

you arrived late to the term, which was already a death sentence. the first few weeks were critical—the time when the hierarchy solidified, alliances were formed, and survival strategies were locked in. worse, you might as well have walked in with a neon sign flashing fresh meat. everything about you screamed out-of-place: the polished shoes that gleamed a little too much, the perfectly ironed shirt tucked with military precision, the rigid way you carried yourself, like you were bracing for a slap. you walked into the dining hall that first evening with your tray balanced so carefully it might as well have been a Eucharist offering, eyes darting around the room like you were waiting for someone to shove you back out the door. you didn’t even have to open your mouth for everyone to know: Catholic boarding school.

it didn’t take long for the other boys to catch on. they had a nose for blood, and you reeked of it. whispers followed you during study hall; cruel nicknames were hurled across the lacrosse field. someone replaced the water in your sports bottle with holy water one afternoon, which left you blinking back tears while everyone howled with laughter.

benjamin wasn’t sure why he noticed you, exactly. maybe it was the way you always seemed to be clutching a rosary in your pocket, running the beads through your fingers like a lifeline. maybe it was the way your cheeks flushed red every time someone snickered “Father” as you walked past. or maybe it was just boredom.

whatever it was, he found himself jogging after you one afternoon, his golden hair catching the sunlight like a halo as he called out, “hey!”

you stopped abruptly, startled, and clutched your books like they might shield you from whatever this was. “uh, hi?”

“you’re the new guy, right?” he asked, all casual confidence as he fell into step beside you.

“i’m not—”

“you are,” he cut you off smoothly, flashing an easy smile. “trust me, i’ve been here long enough to know. you’ve got that ‘lost lamb’ look.”

for a moment, you just blinked at him. his smile didn’t falter, though. Instead, he slung an arm around your shoulders like you were already old friends. “look, this place is a jungle,” he said, steering you toward the courtyard. “and you’re walking around with a target painted on your back. but lucky for you, i’m feeling charitable today.”

you hesitated, your whole body stiffening under his touch. “thanks, but i’m fine.”

“no, you’re not,” he said bluntly, his grin widening. “you’re fresh out of Catholic school, right? i can tell. you’ve got that whole... thing about you. like you’re waiting for a nun to materialize and slap you for breathing too loud.”

that earned him a faint flush of red creeping up your neck. you straightened your shoulders, clearly bristling, but instead of shoving him off, you sighed and let some of the tension drain from your frame. “yeah, well, i’m used to it.”

“doesn’t mean you have to suffer through it alone.”

from that moment on, things changed. benjamin took you under his wing—not that he’d ever admit to something so noble-sounding. it started small: little tips like which table to avoid during meals (definitely not the one near the windows, unless you wanted to end up as the debate team’s entertainment) or how to cut through the north courtyard to bypass the rugby team’s hazing gauntlet. when he noticed you sitting alone in the dining hall, bent over your tray like you were saying grace, he’d saunter over and drop into the seat across from you, grinning like you were his favorite person in the world.

“you’re not gonna survive this place with just prayer, you know,” he teased one evening, stealing a fry off your plate before you could stop him.

your ears burned, but you still muttered, “i don’t need your help.”

“sure you don’t,” he replied easily, resting his chin in his hand as he watched you squirm. “but humor me.”

you weren’t blind to the whispers that followed after that.

“never seen ben hang out with someone like him before.”

“you think they’re...?”

“no way. ben’s just bored. or maybe it’s, like, charity work.”

their words stung, but less than you’d expected. maybe it was because benjamin never seemed to notice—or care—what anyone else thought. he had a way of brushing off insults with that cocky grin of his, and slowly, you found yourself learning to do the same.

but for all his charm, benjamin was infuriating. he’d swipe your homework to “check something” and then return it with a smirk. he’d drag you into conversations you didn’t want to have, poking fun at your strict upbringing and coaxing stories out of you about priests, penance, and purgatory. he was relentless, and you hated that it made you feel a little less like the walls were closing in.

benjamin was everywhere. his laughter echoed in the halls, his golden hair glinting like sunlight, his voice as smooth and warm as honey. it didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing; he was inescapable. and at first, you didn’t mind. at first, you liked the way he looked at you, like you weren’t invisible. the way his arm slung so easily around your shoulders, the way he’d steal your fries or lean in too close just to watch you squirm. he made it look so easy, weaving you into his world with a smirk and a casual confidence you could never hope to emulate. he defended you from the worst of the hazing, diffused the cruel jokes with a well-timed barb or a cutting smile, and made sure you were never left sitting alone in the dining hall.

but then it started to change.

you started to change.

at first, it was subtle: a quickening in your chest when he leaned over your desk, close enough for his cologne to fog your senses. a tightness in your throat when his hand lingered on your shoulder, his thumb brushing the edge of your collar. he didn’t notice the way you froze when he stood behind you, leaning in to murmur some joke meant just for you. it was in the way he sat beside you during study hall, his long legs stretched out like he owned the space, his golden hair catching the light in a way that made your chest ache. it was in the way he teased you, his voice low and warm, always managing to say just enough to make you blush but never enough to cross a line. it was in the way he looked at you sometimes, his emerald eyes lingering just a moment too long, like he was searching for something in you that you didn’t even understand yourself. but you noticed.

you noticed everything.

the curve of his jaw. the warmth of his touch. the way his lips parted when he laughed, his head tilting back, throat exposed like an offering. it felt like blasphemy to see him this way, to want what you shouldn’t want. It felt like the serpent in the garden, whispering in your ear, coaxing you to look a little too long, to want what was forbidden.

and that’s when the shame began to take root.

it crept into your thoughts like a sickness, coiling around your heart. you began to see sin in every glance, every touch, every laugh that left you breathless. you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining things—things you couldn’t say, couldn’t even think without bile rising in your throat.

you prayed. oh, God, how you prayed. every night, you knelt beside your bed, fingers clutching the rosary so tightly they left indentations on your palms. you begged for forgiveness, begged God to deliver you from this sickness of the soul. you whispered Hail Marys into the dark, choking on the words as you begged the Blessed Virgin to intercede for you, to make you pure again. but your prayers felt hollow, empty. each whispered plea was drowned out by the memory of benjamin’s voice, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at you that day in the courtyard, sunlight haloing his head like a saint in a fresco.

you told yourself it wasn’t his fault. how could it be? he was just being benjamin, just being kind. he didn’t know what it did to you when he leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. he didn’t know about the nights you lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the air between your beds a chasm you longed to cross but never would.

the fault was yours alone. your weakness. your sin.

and yet, no matter how many times you dragged the blade of guilt across your soul, the feelings wouldn’t go away. they festered, spreading like rot, turning your prayers into cries of anguish. you thought of the words of Matthew: “if your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. for it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell.” and yet your eyes lingered on him still.

you began to pull back. at first, it was subtle: excuses to leave study sessions early, mumbling about assignments or the need to pray. you avoided his gaze, kept your hands clasped tightly in your lap when he reached out to touch your shoulder. you stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped letting him get too close, stopped letting him into the cracks of your armor.

but it was impossible to escape him. he was always there—leaning against your desk, lounging on his bed, sprawled out in the dining hall, his smile a temptation you couldn’t resist. you tried to flee from him, but he followed you everywhere, even in your thoughts. his voice was there when you knelt before the crucifix, his laughter echoing in the back of your mind as you begged God to cleanse you.

and the worst part was that he noticed. of course he noticed. the worst part was that you wanted him to. some small, desperate part of you wanted him to press, to dig, to uncover the thing rotting in your soul and absolve you of it.

“hey, what’s going on with you?” he asked one evening, lounging on his bed with one arm tucked behind his head. his shirt was rumpled, the top few buttons undone, and you hated the way your eyes were drawn to the hollow of his throat.

you couldn’t look at him. couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his green eyes, the confusion on his face, you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that it was your own weakness, your own sin. you couldn’t tell him that his mere existence was unraveling you, that every time he touched you, it felt like temptation made flesh. “nothing,” you said quickly, focusing on the textbook in your lap as if the words on the page could save you.

“bullshit,” he said, sitting up, his sharp green eyes piercing through your feeble lies. “you’ve been acting weird all week. did i do something?”

you flinched, the weight of his concern pressing down on you. you could feel the truth clawing at the back of your throat, desperate to be let out, but you couldn’t speak it. to confess was to condemn yourself. “no,” you said quickly, too quickly.

“then what is it?” his voice softened, but the hurt had already started to seep into it. you wanted to shove him away, to tell him to stop caring, to stop looking at you like that. stop making me feel this way. “you’re not... you’re not letting those assholes get to you, are you? ‘cause if someone’s giving you shit, i’ll—”

“it’s not that,” you snapped, harsher than you intended, your shame turning sharp as a blade. his expression faltered, and guilt twisted in your chest like a thorn. you dropped your gaze, your hands trembling as they gripped the edge of your book. “i just... i need space, okay?”

“space,” he repeated, the word flat and unfamiliar in his mouth. “from me?” he didn’t understand. how could he? to him, you were just the awkward Catholic boy he’d taken under his wing. he didn’t know about the fire consuming you from the inside out, the way his very presence felt like a test of faith you were doomed to fail.

the silence stretched out, suffocating. you could feel him staring at you, searching for something—an answer, a crack in your armor, anything that would make sense of this. finally, he exhaled sharply, the sound like a wound opening. “fine,” he said, standing abruptly. the bed creaked under his movement, the sound echoing in the quiet room. his voice was colder than you had ever heard it, laced with a bitterness that made your chest ache. “whatever you want, Father.”

the door clicked shut behind him, and you were alone. alone with the shame, the guilt, the terrible longing that refused to let you go. you pressed your hands together, the rosary dangling between your fingers like a lifeline, but even as you tried to pray, all you could think of was him.

but the distance didn’t help. if anything, it made things worse.

benjamin was always there, in your mind, no matter how hard you tried to shut him out. the memory of his smile haunted you during morning prayers. the sound of his voice echoed in your ears as you tried to focus on your studies. at night, in the dim light of your dorm room, you could hear him breathing in the bed across from yours, and it felt like a cruel reminder of everything you couldn’t have.

you hated him for it. you hated yourself more.

you had always been devout, a faithful son of the church. your rosary was your shield, your Bible your sword, your faith the fortress that had kept you safe from the temptations of the world. you clung to the Word of God like a drowning man clings to driftwood, trusting it to keep you pure, to keep you upright. but benjamin made you falter. benjamin made you doubt.

and worst of all, benjamin made you want.

the dreams had come slowly at first, creeping into your mind like thieves in the night. they were innocuous, almost innocent: his laugh ringing out like church bells, his hand brushing yours by accident. but they grew darker, heavier, like a storm gathering on the horizon. you began to dream of his hand lingering too long on your shoulder, sliding down your arm, his fingers warm, deliberate. you dreamed of his lips—pink, soft, sinful—hovering too close to yours, his breath ghosting against your skin. you dreamed of his hand, sure and unrelenting, sliding down your stomach, your cock throbbing under his touch as his name fell from your lips like a prayer you’d never dare to speak aloud.

you always woke from those dreams shaking, drenched in sweat and shame. your body betrayed you, your cock hard, insistent, as if it hadn’t just condemned you. the guilt came in waves, crashing over you, dragging you under. you’d fumble for your rosary in the dark, clutching it tightly, the beads biting into your palms like thorns. you’d sink to your knees on the cold, unyielding floor, whispering, “forgive me, Father, for i have sinned.”

your voice trembled, cracked, as you poured yourself out to a God who surely couldn’t love you anymore. you recited the Psalms until your throat was raw, until the words blurred into each other and the ache in your chest grew unbearable. you told yourself you were strong enough to resist, that the dreams meant nothing, that they were merely a test of your faith.

but the dreams kept coming.

and worse, some dark, treacherous part of you didn’t want them to stop.

one night, long after benjamin had left for the evening, you found yourself restless, the shame coiled tightly in your chest, suffocating. you paced the small dorm room, your rosary clutched in one hand, muttering prayers under your breath like a desperate incantation. but they didn’t help. they couldn’t stop the image of him from searing itself into your mind: benjamin sprawled out on his bed, his shirt half undone, his laugh warm and unguarded, his scent—clean, sharp, him—lingering in the air like incense.

you told yourself to stop, to look away, to think of anything else, but the pull was too strong. you walked into the bathroom, hoping the cold tile and harsh light would cleanse you, give you some clarity. but then you saw them.

benjamin’s boxers were draped carelessly over the counter, a remnant of his presence that felt like a physical blow. your heart lurched, your breath catching in your throat. you froze, your breath catching in your throat, shame flooding you before you’d even moved. you shouldn’t touch them. you knew you shouldn’t. this was wrong, disgusting, unforgivable. but before you could stop yourself, your hand was reaching out, trembling as it closed around the fabric.

they were still warm.

you brought them to your face, your chest heaving as his scent hit you like a blow. it was intoxicating, maddening, him. you inhaled deeply, the cotton brushing against your lips, and you could feel your body reacting, your cock straining against the confines of your jeans.

a strangled sound escaped your throat, half-sob, half-moan. you were shaking, trembling under the weight of your sin, but you couldn’t stop. the shame rose in you, thick and choking, but it only seemed to fuel the fire burning inside you.

your free hand slid down to the bulge in your jeans, your fingers fumbling with the zipper as you gasped for breath. “i’m sorry,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice breaking. “God, ‘m sorry, i’m sorry.” but the words were hollow, meaningless, drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart and the unbearable ache in your body.

your hand slipped into your boxers, your cock hot and throbbing in your palm. the fabric of benjamin’s boxers pressed against your face as you stroked yourself, the sensation overwhelming, sickeningly good. you bit down on your lip to stifle a moan, tears streaming down your face as the guilt clawed at you, sharp and unrelenting.

you hated yourself for this.

you hated how much you needed it.

each stroke felt like a lash against your soul, each gasp a plea for forgiveness you didn’t deserve. you thought of the saints, their eyes turned heavenward, their bodies pierced and broken for their faith, and you wondered if they would weep for you or turn away in disgust. you thought of the thorns pressed into Christ’s brow, of the spear that pierced His side, and you felt like you were driving it in deeper with every desperate, shameful motion.

you were drowning in sin.

the rosary clutched in your hand felt heavier than ever, its beads digging into your skin like penance, a crown of thorns wrapped around your fist. each bead you touched felt like a tally mark against your soul, a reminder of the countless sins you’d committed in thought, in word, and now—oh, God forgive me—in deed.

benjamin’s scent clung to the fabric pressed to your face, clean and sharp, with that faint musk of sweat and skin that was undeniably him. you could taste it on your tongue, could feel it seeping into your lungs like incense burned in offering. it filled you, overwhelmed you, until you couldn’t think of anything else.

your body betrayed you.

your cock throbbed in your hand, slick with the evidence of your shame. the other gripped the rosary so tightly that the crucifix bit into your palm, the tiny Christ pressed there like a mute witness to your depravity. tears streaked down your face, hot and bitter, dripping from your chin onto your bare chest. you felt split open, like the veil of the temple torn in two, laid bare before God and man.

“i’m sorry,” you gasped, the words breaking on your lips, no more than a breathless whisper. “fuck, ‘m so sorry.”

but even as you prayed, even as you begged for forgiveness, your hips jerked forward, thrusting into your fist. the friction was maddening, too much and not enough all at once. you couldn’t stop. you didn’t want to stop.

the shame was suffocating, thick as smoke, but it only seemed to fuel the fire raging in you. the boxers in your hand felt like a relic, a profane artifact that held power over you. you buried your face in them, inhaling deeply, and a strangled moan escaped your lips.

your fingers tightened around your cock, stroking faster, harder, desperate to chase the release you knew would damn you. you bit your lip, hard enough to draw blood, trying to stifle the sounds rising in your throat. they escaped anyway, broken gasps and half-sobs that echoed off the tile walls like confessions shouted in a cathedral.

the bathroom door creaked open.

you froze.

your heart stopped, then slammed back to life, pounding so loudly you thought it might burst. slowly, your eyes flicked toward the doorway, and there he was.

ben.

his green eyes were wide, his brows drawn together in confusion and concern as he stepped inside. “hey, are you—” he stopped mid-sentence, his gaze dropping to the scene before him.

your cock in your hand, hard and aching. his boxers clutched in the other, pressed to your face. the rosary tangled in your fingers, beads slipping between them like the blood of your guilt.

“fuck,” he breathed, his voice low and rough. his eyes darted back up to your face, and you could see the realization dawn in them. the pieces clicking into place.

the shame was instant, white-hot, burning through you like fire and brimstone. you dropped the boxers as if they’d scorched you, scrambling to cover yourself. words tumbled from your lips, incoherent and panicked. “i—i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

benjamin stepped closer, his movements deliberate, measured. his expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—curiosity? amusement? want?

your breath hitched as he crouched in front of you, his hand reaching out. you flinched, expecting anger, rejection, disgust. but instead, his fingers brushed against yours, prying the rosary from your trembling grip.

“hey,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “relax.”

you shook your head, tears spilling over again. “i can’t—i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t—”

he cut you off with a hand on your wrist, his grip firm but not unkind. “feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. the heat in his gaze made your stomach twist, your cock twitch in your hand. “bet you’ve been pent up for weeks, huh? poor fuckin’ thing...”

you wanted to protest, to tell him to stop, to push him away. but your body betrayed you again, leaning into his touch, your breath hitching as his fingers wrapped around your own.

“let me help,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost horse. you didn’t respond. you couldn’t.

he guided your hand, his grip firm and sure, stroking you in a rhythm that made your head spin. his other hand picked up the boxers from the floor, holding them to your face once more. “go on,” he murmured. “you want it, don’t you?”

a sob tore from your throat as you inhaled deeply, the scent of him filling your lungs. it felt wrong, filthy, perfect.

benjamin’s hand gripped your cock with a firm, unrelenting pressure, his fingers curling around your length as though he’d done this a thousand times before. the confidence in his touch was maddening, a sharp contrast to your trembling body and fractured thoughts. his palm was warm and sure, his movements measured, deliberate—stroking you with a pace that was just slow enough to make you ache, to keep you teetering on the edge of sanity.

“shhh,” benjamin murmured, his voice low, soothing, a sharp contrast to the roughness of his hand. his lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke, his breath warm and unbearably intimate. “you don’t want anyone else to hear, do you? just me. just us.”

you whimpered, a helpless sound that only made his smirk widen. the way his fingers curled around your cock, stroking upward with just enough pressure to make your thighs tense, sent bolts of heat racing through you. his thumb grazed the sensitive tip, spreading the slick pre-cum there with an unhurried, almost lazy motion that had your hips bucking forward without your permission.

“desperate already?” he asked, his tone mocking but soft, as if he was speaking to something fragile. he pressed the heel of his palm against the base of your cock, applying just enough pressure to make you ache, to keep you right on the precipice of pleasure without tumbling over. “you’re gonna have to work for it, sweetheart.”

the bathroom was suffocating, steam and guilt mingling in the stagnant air. ben’s grip on your wrist tightened, steadying your trembling body as he tugged you upward, his strength unyielding. you stumbled to your feet, barely able to think, barely able to breathe as he guided you toward the sink.

"look at yourself," he murmured, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the tiles. his hand cupped your chin, forcing your head up, making you confront the reflection in the mirror.

your face was a mess: tear-streaked, flushed, mouth parted in desperate gasps. your chest heaved, sweat glistening on your skin. and below, the evidence of your shame—your cock, swollen and slick, gripped tight in ben’s firm, unforgiving hand.

"god, look at you," he rasped, the words rough and dripping with derision, yet tinged with something darker, something hotter. his green eyes burned as they flicked between your reflection and the reality of you standing before him, shaking, broken. "so filthy."

you whimpered, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of his gaze, of his words. "how do you think God would feel, huh?" he asked, his tone mocking, cruel in its softness. his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, the contact sending shivers down your spine. "seeing you like this? crying and moaning like a fuckin’ sinner. bet the saints are turning away right now."

“stop,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, hoarse from the tears and the shame that choked you. but you didn’t pull away. you couldn’t.

benjamin’s hand tightened around your cock, stroking it with slow, deliberate precision. he watched your reflection, studying every flinch, every gasp, every broken sound that escaped your lips. "stop?" he echoed, his smirk deepening. "you don’t want me to stop." he tilted his head, his eyes locking onto yours in the mirror. "look at yourself. you’re loving this. bet you’ve been dreaming about me, haven’t you? thinking about my hands on you, my mouth on you..."

your knees buckled at the insinuation, and his arm shot out, catching you around the waist, holding you upright. you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but your body betrayed you. your hips jerked forward again, seeking the friction his hand so cruelly denied you. “please,” you gasped, though you didn’t know what you were begging for—for him to stop, for him to continue, for absolution, for release.

he chuckled, low and throaty, the sound rumbling through your chest. "poor thing," he murmured, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "all those prayers, and this is where they got you. on your knees, jerking off with my fuckin’ boxers like a desperate little pervert."

your stomach twisted, shame coiling tighter, but the heat in his voice, the weight of his words—it ignited something inside you, something primal and unbearable.

benjamin leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck. his lips brushed your shoulder, soft at first, then firmer as his teeth grazed your skin. he nipped at you, not enough to break the skin but enough to make you gasp, your cock twitching helplessly in his hand. "fuck, you’re so easy," he hissed, his tone laced with contempt and fascination. his free hand slid up your chest, his fingers ghosting over the line of your throat before gripping your jaw. he forced your gaze to stay fixed on the mirror, his green eyes burning into yours through the glass. "look at yourself," he demanded, his grip tightening on your chin just enough to keep you compliant. "take a good, long look."

your eyes flicked to the mirror, and the sight made your stomach churn. your face was flushed, your eyes glassy and wet from unshed tears. sweat clung to your skin, your hair disheveled, and your lips swollen from where you'd bitten them raw. your cock was still hard, leaking against your stomach, throbbing with need as benjamin stood behind you, as he pumped you in slow, devastating strokes “does this feel good?” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. his voice dripped with mockery, sending a jolt of humiliation through you. "getting all hard for me, like some filthy little pervert? huh?"

your hips jerked forward involuntarily, chasing the friction of his touch, and a broken moan tore from your throat. the sound echoed in the small bathroom, a damning confession of your weakness. benjamin smirked, his grip on your jaw tightening just enough to keep you in place. "that’s what i thought."

your knuckles turned white as you gripped the edge of the sink, the cold porcelain biting into your palms. you tried to look away, shame prickling your every nerve, but benjamin’s grip was unrelenting. he tilted your chin higher, forcing your gaze to stay fixed on the mirror. “don’t you fucking look away,” it was a command, sure, but also quiet request, one you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse. “i want you to see exactly what you are. a filthy, desperate pervert, getting off to the thought of me. say it.”

your breath hitched, a broken moan tearing from your lips as your hips jerked forward, chasing the friction of his touch. the sound seemed to please him, his smirk widening as his other hand moved to your waist, holding you steady against the sink. “say it,” benjamin murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. his hand on your cock moved faster now, his strokes rough and unrelenting, dragging you closer to the edge. “say what you are.”

“i—i can’t,” you gasped, your voice cracking under the weight of your shame.

“yes, you can.” his tone softened just enough to make your chest tighten, to make you hate how much you wanted to give in. “say it, or i’ll stop.”

your head snapped up, panic flaring in your chest as you met his eyes in the mirror. he smirked at your reaction, his grip on you tightening just enough to remind you who was in control. “you don’t want me to stop, do you?” he teased, his voice a low purr as his fingers wrapped around your cock, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur. “you like this too much.”

“i’m a filthy pervert,” you finally choked out, the words burning like acid on your tongue.

“good boy.” benjamin’s smirk deepened, his hand moving faster now, dragging you toward the precipice. “now tell me what you want.”

“i—” your chest heaved, your hands gripping the edge of the sink so tightly your knuckles turned white. “i want you.” the confession tore free like a prayer, desperate and raw. “I want you to touch me, to—to make me cum—”

benjamin chuckled, the sound low and satisfied as he pressed his lips to your neck. “that’s more like it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. “go on. let go for me. i want to feel you come apart in my hand.”

his words were your undoing. your body arched against him, trembling as the pleasure surged through you like a wave crashing against the shore. benjamin’s grip was firm, steady, grounding you as you came with a shuddering cry, your release splattering against the mirror in thick, messy streaks.

“fuck,” ben breathed out, his tone heavy with awe as he watched your reflection. his hand didn’t stop, coaxing every last drop from you, his strokes slow and deliberate now, like he was savoring the way you unraveled beneath his touch.

when it was over, you sagged against the sink, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. ben’s hand lingered on your cock, his fingers slick with your release as he pulled away, his smirk softening into something almost tender. “look at that,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to grip your chin, tilting your head back so your eyes met his in the mirror. “such a pretty mess.”

you swallowed hard, the shame creeping back in like a tide, but ben’s thumb brushed against your jaw, grounding you. “you okay?” he asked softly, his voice lacking the teasing edge it had carried before. you nodded weakly, your throat too tight to speak.

“good.” his smirk returned, softer now, but no less infuriating. he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “because you owe me a clean mirror.”

[lesbiradshaw]

the fact they’re each thinking “he can’t be serious” is actually a sign of soulmatism

[molinaesque]

Astarion: I think he likes us. Tav: I like him, too. But I'd never say it to his smarmy face. Raphael has a crush on Tav and tries real hard to act cool about it.

[sugarbcnes]

𝜗𝜚 NSFW 18+

loser bestfriend ellie who all of a sudden turns into loser/sub top ellie after fucking you for the first time with the strap on she found in your closet.

she’s so fucking obsessed with the way you look when you bounce on her hips, nails tearing at her freckled skin as you string out the most beautiful sounds she thinks she’s ever heard anyone make in her entire life. her mouth drops open and she freezes as you fall into her, still trying to comprehend the whole thing as your face is buried in her neck, whimpering and gasping for your breath.

her hands tremble as they come up to wrap around you, long fingers tracing patterns into your skin in an attempt to calm you down.

she can’t fathom how needy you are or how you paw at her biceps in an attempt to get her to move her hips because you ‘feel so empty’. she can’t fathom the obsession you have of her that grows days after, constantly pressing against her or trying to get her alone or trying to be in her arms. she can’t fathom any of it except the part where she knows she’s fucking loving it.

[chiptrillino]

...older Fire Lord Zuko with a sheer top and his tits out you say?

ID: three drawings of aged-up zuko from Avatar the last airbender as fire lord. on the left side a full body of zuko front view. In the middle, zuko from the waist up leaning over a cluttered table growling and spitting flames at the viewer. In the third image on the right, zuko from the waist up sits bored and exhausted in his chair. cluttered desk and paperwork in front of him. End ID

I probably did advertise the sheer top wrong! it's more like a robe! just… a bit seethrough… because… you know… self-indulgence…? for me… ? for us? (yes he only has one lense in his his glasses becasue we in the fandom just know why!)

art-blog: chiptrillino-art

[chaengluva]

Assigned To You

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: None

Part 2: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist! (I have an English exam tomorrow! wish me luck..)

------

As Ellie walked through the door that night, the inviting aroma of freshly baked pizza wafted through the air, drawing her attention even before she heard Joel’s familiar, warm voice. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?” he asked, his face lighting up as he pulled her into one of his signature bear hugs.

Ellie returned the hug, her earlier frustrations melting away in his comforting embrace. She smiled brightly. “It was fun! I have this history project, and I got paired with this girl.” Her tone was casual, but there was a slight hesitation in her voice.

Joel raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “A girl, huh?”

Ellie’s face flushed a deep shade of red as she shook her head quickly, her hands gesturing wildly. “No, no, no! Not like that. I don’t like her!” she blurted out, her voice slightly higher-pitched than usual.

Joel chuckled softly, clearly unconvinced but willing to play along. “Sure, sure, whatever you say,” he teased, his smirk widening as Ellie groaned in frustration.

“I mean it!” she insisted, huffing slightly before spinning around to head toward her room. “Anyway, I’m gonna go text her… for project purposes!” she called over her shoulder, practically sprinting up the stairs before Joel could tease her any further.

Once inside her room, Ellie closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath to compose herself. She glanced around her small, cosy sanctuary—a space that reflected her personality perfectly. The walls were adorned with Spider-Man posters and her favourite sketches of dinosaurs and sharks. Her desk, illuminated by a soft desk lamp, was impeccably organized, just like the rest of the room.

She tossed her bag onto her neatly made Spider-Man bed and sank into her chair, her fingers hesitating over her phone. After a moment’s hesitation, she opened Instagram and accepted your request. Her eyes widened as she took in your profile—over 7,000 followers, a seemingly endless stream of comments, and photos that looked like they belonged in a magazine.

Her heart raced as she typed out a simple, two-word message: Ellie_TheDino: Hey!

As soon as she hit send, Ellie locked her phone and tossed it onto her bed like it was a ticking time bomb. Her chest felt tight with nerves. What if you thought she was weird? What if you didn’t reply at all? Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she decided to focus on something else. She grabbed her notebook from her desk, flipping it open to work on another assignment.

“Ellie! Dinner!” Joel’s voice called from downstairs, breaking her concentration.

Ellie set her pen down and rushed to the dining room, the promise of food lifting her spirits. She slid into her usual seat across from Joel, her mouth watering at the sight of the pizza he had prepared.

“Are you excited for pizza night?” Joel teased, his eyes twinkling as he passed her a plate.

“Always,” Ellie replied, grabbing a slice and taking a big bite. She let out an exaggerated, satisfied hum. “Mmm, you make the best pizza, Joel!”

Joel laughed, shaking his head. “It’s just pizza, kiddo.”

“Nope, it’s special when you make it,” Ellie insisted with a grin. They fell into easy conversation as they ate, Joel sharing stories from his day while Ellie occasionally chimed in with 'gossip' at school.

When the last slice was gone, Joel leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach contentedly. “So, dessert?”

Ellie’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Ice cream?”

Joel chuckled, already standing to grab the bowls. “What else?”

A few minutes later, Ellie was back at the table with a generous serving of her favourite ice cream in front of her. She dug in happily, savouring the cool, creamy treat as Joel sat across from her.

“So,” Joel began, his tone casual but laced with curiosity, “what’s this girl like?”

Ellie nearly choked on her spoonful of ice cream, coughing as she glared at him. “Joel!”

“What?” he said, raising his hands in mock innocence, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

“She’s just my partner for a history project. That’s it,” Ellie insisted firmly, though the faint blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her words.

Joel smirked knowingly but decided to drop the subject. “If you say so, kiddo.”

After finishing dessert, Ellie excused herself and headed back to her room. The moment she closed the door, her nerves kicked in again. She grabbed her phone, unlocking it to check for a reply. The sight of an empty chat screen made her heart sink slightly.

She frowned, placing her phone face down on her desk and telling herself not to overthink it. “She’s probably just busy,” Ellie muttered under her breath, trying to reassure herself.

She sat down at her desk and picked up her pencil, attempting to focus on her assignments, but her thoughts kept drifting back to you. What were you doing right now? Were you even thinking about the project?

Meanwhile, in your sprawling bedroom, you were propped against fluffy pink pillows on your king-sized bed, your phone pressed to your ear as Olivia’s voice filled the silence.

“I’m telling you, Jesse has feelings for you,” Olivia said dramatically.

You rolled your eyes. “If that’s true, maybe you should tell him I don’t like him.”

“You’re impossible! Then who do you like?”

“No one,” you said with a shrug. “Relationships are overrated, and couples are annoying.”

Olivia groaned in exasperation. “Oh my god, you’re so frustrating sometimes.”

“Drop it, Liv,” you said, your tone flat.

“Fine,” she huffed, quickly pivoting the conversation to gush about her own crushes. You tuned her out,

Meanwhile, in your sprawling bedroom, you were propped against fluffy pink pillows on your king-sized bed, your phone pressed to your ear as Olivia’s voice filled the silence.

The room around you was nothing short of a pink paradise, bathed in a soft glow from a massive crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The walls were painted a pastel pink, adorned with framed photos of you and your friends, glossy magazine covers, and aesthetic mood boards you had pieced together over time. Along one wall, an oversized mirror with LED lights framed its edges, reflecting the luxurious chaos of the space.

Stuffed animals were scattered everywhere—oversized bears lounging in the corner, plush bunnies perched on shelves, and a cluster of tiny squishy toys lined up neatly on your windowsill. Despite the childish charm they brought, the room screamed sophistication. A vanity table sat against another wall, its surface covered in an array of makeup palettes, lipsticks, and high-end skincare products. Each item was meticulously arranged, almost like a display in a luxury department store.

Next to the vanity was a walk-in closet with its glass doors slightly ajar, revealing a treasure trove of designer bags and clothes. Rows of neatly hung outfits, organized by colour and season, stretched into the depths of the closet. Chanel, Dior, Prada—every label imaginable—were casually displayed as though you owned your personal boutique. Stacked shelves held boxes of designer shoes, while the centre island of the closet displayed your collection of sparkling accessories.

Your bed, the centrepiece of the room, was covered in a plush pink duvet with matching pillows embroidered with intricate floral designs. The bedposts were draped with delicate fairy lights that gave the entire space an ethereal glow. A stack of fashion magazines sat on the nightstand alongside your gold-trimmed iPad, which blinked with notifications from your bustling social life.

“I’m telling you, Jesse has feelings for you,” Olivia said dramatically, her voice pulling you back to reality.

You rolled your eyes, letting out a soft scoff as you stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror. “If that’s true, maybe you should tell him I don’t like him.”

“You’re impossible! Then who do you like?”

“No one,” you said with a shrug, leaning back against the fluffy pillows. “Relationships are overrated, and couples are annoying.”

Olivia groaned loudly, exasperated. “Oh my god, you’re so frustrating sometimes.”

“Drop it, Liv,” you said, your tone flat as you absentmindedly scrolled through TikTok on your phone.

“Fine,” she huffed, quickly shifting the conversation to gush about her own crushes. You half-listened, responding with the occasional “Mm-hmm” or “Oh, really?” while liking videos of makeup tutorials and luxury hauls.

“Y/n! Dinner!” your mum’s voice called from downstairs, pulling you out of your scrolling trance.

“Gotta go,” you told Olivia, cutting her off mid-sentence. You tossed your phone onto the silk duvet and headed downstairs, where your mum and younger sister were seated at the dining table.

Your mum, dressed impeccably as always, scrolled through her tablet, barely glancing up as she sipped a glass of wine. Your younger sister was similarly engrossed in her phone, poking at her food without much interest.

“I’m gonna eat in my room,” you said casually, grabbing your plate. Your mum gave a distracted nod, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Back upstairs, you plopped down on your bed, balancing the plate in one hand while your other resumed its familiar position, scrolling through Instagram. Photos of the weekend’s parties, perfectly posed group shots, and aesthetic brunch tables filled your feed. You double-tapped a few before switching to TikTok again, entirely forgetting about the message Ellie had sent you earlier.

For you, the project with Ellie was just another mundane task to tick off your list, lost in the whirlwind of your busy, glamorous life. Across town, though, Ellie was lying awake in her tidy, small bedroom, wondering if she’d ever get a reply.

The next day at school, Ellie was walking down the hallway, her eyes scanning the crowd of students when she spotted you at your locker. You were standing with your back to her, attaching a small mirror to the inside of your locker door, your attention focused as you touched up your makeup. The soft click of your lipstick cap echoed in the otherwise noisy hallway, and Ellie felt a rush of nervous energy, her heart beating a little faster than usual.

Without hesitation, she quickened her pace, making her way toward you. As she neared, she couldn't help but feel a wave of anticipation build in her chest. When she reached you, she called out, her voice a little sharper than she intended.

"You didn’t message me back last night!"

You turned around, a slight look of confusion crossing your face as you processed her words. It took a moment for you to register, and then, realization hit.

"Shit, Ellie, I’m so sorry," you said with a frown, clearly genuine. "It totally slipped my mind. I’ve just been busy with everything."

Ellie’s breath hitched slightly when she heard her name roll off your tongue. The casual way you said it sent a strange, electric shiver down her spine, making it hard for her to stay composed. She didn’t want to argue about it—there was no point.

"It’s okay!" Ellie quickly responded, trying to keep things light, her voice almost a little too cheerful. "How about we organize a date for the project? How’s Saturday?"

You raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, that works," you said with an easy shrug. "I’ll text you my address."

Ellie hesitated, her guard still up after the message from last night, unsure of your intentions. She gave you a small look, one that was a mix of scepticism and cautious curiosity. After a moment, you caught the look, and without missing a beat, you pulled out your phone from your designer bag and quickly typed something out.

“Did you get that?” you asked, your voice casual, but Ellie couldn’t help but notice the faint flicker of something else in your eyes—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Ellie’s phone buzzed almost immediately, and she pulled it out, a grin spreading across her face as she saw your message pop up on the screen: your address.

"Yes!" she said, her voice a little too eager, but she couldn’t help it. You had just confirmed something she’d been quietly hoping for, and she felt her nerves ease up just a little.

"Sweet," you exclaimed, your smile flashing across your face before you slammed your locker shut with a loud clang. Ellie jumped slightly at the sudden noise, her heart skipping a beat. You didn’t seem to notice, already turning to leave as you walked away, your mini skirt swishing with every step.

Ellie couldn’t help herself. As you walked away, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from your exposed legs, the way you moved with such ease and confidence. You looked effortlessly stylish in that skirt, and Ellie couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something—a mix of admiration and something else she hadn’t fully acknowledged yet.

For a moment, she just stood there, watching you disappear down the hallway, before she snapped out of it, forcing herself to focus on the upcoming project. But even then, her thoughts kept returning to you, to your smile, to how she felt so out of her depth whenever you were around.

--

Taglist @vahnilla @radioheadfan699 @defnoteleonor @robinphobia @liztreez

[47lake]

payback

synopsis: you always loved it when she got frustrated, but something about this night specifically drove you absolutely wild. plus, you had to get your payback.

‼️: sub!top!billie, dom!bottom!reader, restraints, begging, tears, thigh riding, teasing, princess treatment(receiving), more that i’m probably forgetting oops ! w/c 2.6k

continuation of 'im sorry'

the two of you were at dinner with her team, a very classy restaurant with everyone’s tab covered by billie as a way to say thank you for all their hard work throughout the year.

you let your girlfriend pick your outfit for the night, she returned from the closet after very carful consideration with a sleek, long sleeve, deep crimson dress that you had gotten recently. you chuckled and smiled, knowing billie had been waiting for you to wear it. you paired it with some black louboutins bils has surprised you with a few days before.

“they were supposed to be for christmas but i was too excited to see your reaction so, do you like them?!”

she was always so sweet to you, spoiling you with anything she even thought you would like. you pick something up to look at it closer in a store? it’s practically bought already.

you hooked the clasp of a gold necklace you mentioned liking to her once. it arrived at your door a few days later along with the earrings and bracelet to match, accompanied by a proud billie.

you sprayed a few sprays of her eilish no 1 & no 3, the mix of the warm vanilla with the christmas-y scent mixing together in a way that billie loved.

you grabbed your purse, black leather with gold accents, perfect for any outfit. you stepped out of the closet, lipstick in hand, to find your girl adjusting her tie, the perfect shade of red to match your dress. she was wearing a suit, a little baggy to fit her aesthetic, with her new converse, ‘open up the door’ could be read along the side of the sole.

you stood there for a moment, watching her adjust herself, she was perfect. you cleared your throat to make your presence known, she practically did a 360, eager to see how you looked.

“you’re kidding… there’s no way i get to call this gorgeous girl mine, somebody pinch me.”

she took your hand as the two of you closed the distance between yourselves, she spun you in a circle, whistling as she took it all in.

“you know i could sit here and admire you for hours but we’ve gotta go or we’re gonna be late!”

she gripped your hand a little tighter and led you out the door, opening your car door for you and holding her hand out to help you get in. she shut the door softly and ran around to her side, throwing herself inside and slamming her own door.

she waited for you to buckle your seatbelt and touch up your makeup, watching intently as you outlined your lips. thumbing circles against your exposed thigh through the slit that ran up the side of your dress. just as you snapped the mirror shut she started backing down the driveway, her hand never leaving your skin as she turned out onto the street.

you both always had to be touching, you reached over to hold the back of her neck as she held your thigh. you scratched her neck softly, your red acrylics perfectly contrasting her pale skin.

you couldn’t help but watch her, it was your favorite thing. her side profile always so gorgeous, her resting face always seemed so focused, you wondered what she could be thinking about all the time.

the car ahead of you casting a bright red light across her features, helping you clearly see her face light up as she turned her focus to you.

“whatcha looking at?”

“just my girl.”

she smiled wide and returned her gaze to the road, such a sweet girl.

──୨ৎ──

throughout the night you could see your appearance was having more and more of an effect on her.

her eyes lingering on the deep neckline of your dress for just a little too long when you spoke to her.

her mind visibly wandering as you shot her knowing glances.

how intently she watched you even if she was speaking to someone else across the room.

everyone knew billie was infatuated with you, but tonight was something more. something that she couldn’t hide no matter how hard she tried.

her gaze currently fixated under the table, the slit of your dress falling to perfectly showcase your crossed legs and her hand atop your thigh.

“billie?”

“hm?!”

she snapped her head, tuggingher gaze away from your body. you giggled quietly as she ran her hand along your skin, giving you any attention she could.

“your speech?”

“OH! right yes!”

she stood up out of her seat and called attention to everyone within the private room. she thanked her team for all their hard work and patience with her and her career. she went on to tell a few funny stories between her and some of the crew, laughs erupting around the room. billie’s smile gleamed through all the chatter, she waited for everyone to settle down and turned to you.

“and i also want to thank my beautiful girl!”

she reached down for your hand, placing it in her own.

“this girl has helped me through thick and thin, kept me grounded, and helped me truly be me. she has done more for me than she will ever know, and i love her endlessly.”

you couldn’t help but smile, you loved how sentimental she could be, she’s so perfect.

everyone starts clapping as she motions to you after her little spill, smile still plastered on your face, you shook your head and squeezed her hand tightly.

she sat down and people went back to chatting amongst themselves, billies hand quickly returning to your thigh. she leaned closer to you, lips inches away from your ear.

“you look so beautiful, it’s driving me crazy.”

she slid her hand up just enough to show her intentions behind that statement, you laughed and told her to be patient. you loved when she got enamored like this, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from you if she tried.

you lightly placed your hand on top of hers, running your index gently across her middle & ring. you’d think something so simple wouldn’t bother her so much, but you could instantly see her her zone out, god knows what she could be recollecting.

you cleared your throat as someone approached, snapping het out of her thoughts instantly. amusement shown clearly across your features. you kissed her cheek, leaving a vivid red stamp on her face. it paired nicely with the rosy blush now coating her cheeks.

she stumbled over her words as you continued to trace over her fingers with your own, her eyes darting around the room as she tried to focus on what the poor girl in front of her was saying. she answered to the best of her ability and the girl walked back to her seat, billie shot you a look that clearly read ‘you’re so mean!’ you smiled innocently and leaned into her ear.

“i can’t wait until we get home sweet girl, you’re gonna be so good for me.”

her hand flew over her mouth, eyes wide as her mind ran with ideas of what was in store. she cleared her throat and adjusted her hair, trying to keep herself composed, much to her dismay her pink cheeks and hot ears were a dead giveaway.

──୨ৎ──

you and billie both stood outside the door of the restaurant saying your goodbyes to everyone, thanking them for coming and for everything they do. billies team was so big it felt like ages, especially since you were eager to get your hands on her.

the last person got in their car and drove away, billie snatched you up in her arms and practically flew to her car.

she set you down and opened the car door for you, like always, holding her hand out to keep you steady as you got inside. you buckled your seatbelt and she shut the door with care, despite her impatience, running around to her side and flinging herself inside. she started up the car and began to drive while simultaneously buckling her seatbelt, wasting as little time as possible.

“someone’s excited.”

you teased her as you ran your fingers through her hair.

“how could i not be? you only drove me absolutely insane throughout the entirety of dinner!”

“oh hush, you know you like it.”

she turned her gaze away, pretending to be focused on the road as she hid her smile.

she ran her hand up and down your thigh, traveling just a little further up each time. she wanted you so bad it was precious, tracing circles with her thumb and tapping the pads of her fingers against your skin.

you couldn’t help but smile, you uncrossed your legs, looking over to see her attention directed towards your thighs. you felt her hand travel further up than before, making sure to stop before she got carried away. her eyes fixated on the road, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she smiled.

she pulled into the driveway, getting out of the car quickly and running around to your side. she opened the door and undid your seatbelt for you, eager to get inside already. you giggled as she held her hand out, taking it and stepping out.

you held both sides of her face as she shut the door back, kissing her passionately. her hands cascaded to your waist as yours wrapped around the back of her neck, her touch fell down to your ass as she squeezed softly. you pulled away, thumbing over her cheek as you were met with her pouty eyes and swollen lips.

“my poor baby.”

she tried pull you back in when you grabbed a handful of her tie, leading her to the door. you held your free hand out expectantly as she scrambled through her pockets for the keys, handing them to you with a cheesy smile.

you undid the lock and pulled her a little harder as you led the way to the bedroom, opening the door and walking her over to the bed. you let her out of your grip and she flops down, looking up at you and waiting for her next instruction.

“help me with my dress sweetheart, i can’t reach the zipper.”

she jumps up and obliges happy, slowly pulling the zipper down with one hand, the other resting on your hip. her plump lips trailing soft kisses across your shoulder and your collarbone to eventually land on the nape of your neck. the zipper soon runs out and she pushes the sleeves off your shoulders, spinning you around, kisses now lining the edge of your jaw as she slips your dress off.

“i wanna make you feel good..”

you caress her shoulders and push her away gently, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the sheets as she is sat on the bed again. you straddle her lap and watch as her eyes linger on your exposed figure, she’s always had a weakness for how perfect you look in lace.

“i know, you’re so eager my love. i promise, you’re gonna make me feel so good.”

she smiles looking up at you, her hands return to your skin, so desperate to please. you loosen her tie and pull it off, unbuttoning her shirt to join the pile forming in the floor. you slide off her lap and get on your knees between her legs, undoing her belt and and button of her pants, sliding them off and throwing them to the slide.

now that you had her on display to match yourself you told her to move back, her back resting against the headboard as she sat up straight, legs out in front her.

“i want you to close your eyes for me sweet girl, you can do that, yeah?”

she nodded intently as her lids fell closed, waiting for your next move. you got up off her lap and pulled the drawer of the nightstand open. you smiled as you pulled out a roll of ribbon, you told billie to be patient and quiet as you tied her wrists to the headboard in a pretty red bow.

you could cum right then, she looked so sweet. her eyes closed, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, your kiss stamp on her face, rosy pink cheeks flush as her arms remained above her head. you quickly slipped your bra and panties off and positioned yourself to be straddled across her thigh.

“open, my love.”

her eyes fluttered open, looking up as she gasped, the realization of her restraint washing over her. she tugged gently against the ribbon, looking at you with a pout painted across her face.

“babyyy?!”

“payback. pretty girl, don’t you remember when you just couldn’t help yourself?”

you watched as she became lost in her own thoughts, recollecting her apologies falling from her lips as she held you down.

she quickly snapped out of her daze when she felt your wet heat touch down on her thigh, her focus instantly fixated on the slow rhythm of you hips against her thigh.

“come on! please! just let me touch you please! i’ll be a good girl, i promise!”

you smiled, your hands finding stability in the sheets as you picked up your pace, dirty moans rolling off your tongue that you knew would drive her wild.

“i know you will, you’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah?”

she nodded slowly and her attention instantly retuned to the puddle of arousal pooling against her skin. you began to roll your hips faster and faster against her. she repeated ‘please’ and ‘fuck’ over and over, not touching you was making her crazy. you loved it.

she started to buck her hips, loving that you were using her to get off.

“such a dirty girl. you’re just watching and can’t control yourself?”

her eyes locked with yours, she looked so sweet when she got needy like this, small droplets fell from her eyes in frustration.

“please let me touch you, please, it’s all i want, please, baby.”

oh. my. god.

you couldn’t refuse that, you untied her pretty bow and tossed it aside.

her hands flew to your hips, positioning one to be able to press circles into your clit with her thumb. she began to guide your hips, picking up at the pace where you had left off.

you laid your head against her shoulder as she rolled your hips faster and faster, moans and whines spilling out of you rapidly as the knot inside of you grew tighter and tighter.

“fuck bils! yes! make me cum!”

she pressed your hips down harder and kept her pace and your body shook in her grasp, she kissed your neck as her pace grew slow, letting you ride out your high. you sighed deeply and laid against her for a moment, catching your breath.

“don’t move.”

she nodded and waited patiently, you took one final breath and got off her thigh, positioning yourself a little further back between her legs. you looked up at her and held her gaze with yours, arching your back in front of her.

“fuck!”

she inhaled sharply as your warm tongue collected all of your pleasure off her skin. you sat up once you were finished, kissing her deeply.

“my good girl, you took your payback so well.”

this one is a bit long but i hope you all enjoy! 🖤

let me know if yall have anything yall wanna see with loser subtopillie 🧟‍♀️

send any requests to my inbox ! 📥

💋: @vharperr @brat-at-the-disco @thechipbetweenyourcarseat @dollyvuu @greenbttrflyy @eilishslut @karaeilishh @moralesluvr @anna-geeeezzzz @certifiedwomenlover @asterisk-eyes @mseilishmwah @eeuni @ohdoyoustillcry masterlist taglist

[dzknik]

wake up babe new tumblr sexyman just dropped

[gatorgrumbles]

I love drawing this ugly mf

[mooneln0ne]

cool poster at the marine base to motivate its marines

[tubbytarchia]

I swear to god 99% of people watching WL forgot who won SL. Put some respect on his name

[hazbinshusk]

me when other people question my spotify wrapped:

[raspberryfemmelesbian]

Thinking real hard about sending a dom pictures when they’re busy

Like when you’re with your friends or at work I’ll send a picture from down my shirt, maybe one of my ass in that skirt I know you like, then once you’ve given me a thorough warning... I’ll send you one so blatantly lewd you’d have to leave at that moment

Oh I’m sorry daddy I didn’t know you were gonna get upset! I mean you liked them didn’t you?

[cupofcolors]

miss radiant dawn from guilty gear

[dee-snut]

My Pc(1) Vincent/Vinny!! Cowboy gambling addict his ass is getting sent to prison dawg