#tw infidelity

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

Your current boyfriend used to be the jock that shoved emo-freak SAM MONROE into lockers. And now Sam’s got you moaning his name while his skinny boy cock rearranges your insides. Who needs all that muscle when you’ve got a sleep-deprived pill-popping grunge cunt destroyer filling up the empty space in your bed? Is he doing this to get back at your soon-to-be-ex? No. He’s always loved you. Always wanted you. Looked after you in envy while you were with that air-headed football player. He’s only got the confidence to fuck you now though. He’ll worry about his future broken nose later. Currently, all that matters is getting you to squirt all over the mattress so his old bully comes home to soaked sheets that smell of sweet betrayal.

[aurorawritestoescape]

BORROWED TIME

Joel Miller x f!reader || 4k

Summary: Joel and you are enjoying an ideal vacation together. Warm ocean, white sand, soft kisses, and hot sex make it feel like paradise. But as your time here is running out, the thoughts that you‘ve been trying to keep at bay start eating at your soul.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, fluff, age is not specified, soft dom vibes, infidelity, praise kink, f!oral, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampies, belly bulge, soft!Joel, EMOTIONS, rough-ish sex, consensual somno, heavily inspired by Pedro’s vacay pics and videos. Pics are only for the mood. Joel can lift reader. Reader wears a dress, a bikini.

A/n: yay my first fic of 2025! I didn’t expect it to be this one but like all of us I was deeply affected by the recent Pedro content and needed to cope somehow so I wrote this. I really hope y’all will like it! Smooches to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing💋 ILY, baby🫂 Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

The first day in heaven. A soft breeze caresses your skin as soon as you step out of the cab, just from the airport, but Joel’s hands always do it better.

You’ve been looking forward to this trip, afraid to even talk about it, scared to jinx it, make it vanish like a mirage. You’ve been dreaming of having Joel all to yourself for too long.

Joel hugs you in the hotel lobby while they’re checking you in, and you tilt your head up to face him. You’ve never smiled so widely before. Your heart is fluttering in your chest, and his scent, your favorite in the whole world, makes you tremble and gush.

You taste sugar on your lips from a welcome Mimosa, and as soon as you two are in your room, he licks it off; the kiss is full of passion, his hands eager, desperate to tear your summer dress off. It’s on the floor in a second, just like your panties. He kneels in front of you and kisses your naked thigh. A growl against your skin makes you shiver before he looks you up and down, taking in the sight of your naked body, and then tuts with overexaggerated disapproval,

”Asked you not to wear anything underneath, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t be butt-naked on the plane, Joel,” you giggle, tracing a line from the crease between his brows, down the slope of his nose, and to his chin. You love his profile so much that seeing it is not enough, so you made a habit of touching it too.

“I promise you’ll never see any underwear on me from now on.”

“Good girl,” he praises you with a wide smile, and then suddenly latches onto your wet pussy. You gasp and grab his broad shoulders to steady yourself. Joel helps you not to fall, his strong hands on your thighs spread your legs apart, and you happily grant him access to the most sacred part of your body.

He pushes his tongue between your folds, traces your soft entrance with its tip, and your legs are already trembling. He starts playing with you, mischief swimming in his dark eyes, slowly laps at your folds, gently sucks on your clit but doesn’t give you enough stimulation to come.

You whine when his mouth parts from your puffy bud, desperate for a release.

“You’ll come, my angel. But only on my cock,” Joel promises, getting up, takes you in his arms, and carries you to the shower.

You're caged between the shower wall and Joel. He's naked and wet, radiating sex and desire. Soapy water is running over the curves of your body while he's washing you, taking his time. His big lathered palms are gliding over your breasts, belly, mound, ass. Your hands are pressed to the expense of his chest as he's slowly edging you, always happy to play with you like a cat with a mouse. He's waiting for you to break under his touch, to beg for more. Yet his heart is beating so fast and hard under your palms that it leaves you no doubt that he's desperate for you just as much as you're for him. He can't get enough of you and your heart sings, seeing every sign of it— his blown out eyes, his heavy breathing, his hard cock.

You're revelling in the caress of Joel's hands but your body takes over soon enough. Your wet palm slithers down his torso and wraps around his stiff length. You pump the shaft a few times and then guide his tip between your folds.

"Fuck me, Joel." Your plea is almost swallowed by the sound of the rainfall shower but he hears you.

"Begging me already? So needy." His eyes are obsidian, he can't fool you.

"Aren't you?" you purr, sliding his fat tip up and down over your hardened clit, massaging it, making yourself moan and tremble. The sensation makes Joel grunt and break. Through his teeth he commands, "Turn around."

“Yes, sir,” you breathe out, smile wide, eyes sparkling, and in a second the cold tile kisses your cheek, then your pebbled nipples, and his fat head slowly slides into your pussy, followed by his girthy shaft.

“Hngggg— oh, baby—been thinking of fucking you since this morning. Your damn dress. Took me a lot not to ruin you right on the plane.”

You whimper at his words and then your eyes roll back when he starts thrusting his thickness in and out of your tight cunt. It takes you a few deep breaths to get used to the stretch but you always take him well and soon wet slapping noises reverberate off the walls, together with your moans and his grunts fusing into a melody of lust and passion. You love when he’s as desperate for you as you’re for him. It gives you hope.

Crispy sheets, so white your eyes hurt, envelop your poorly-dried bodies like a cloud.

“C’mere,” he croaks, pulling you closer, and you rest your head on his chest as he covers you two with a blanket. His warm cum is leaking out of your stretched pussy and you tingle all over again but the flight has drained you both and in a couple of minutes you two fall asleep.

You wake up before Joel and slip out from under his arm to look at the view. You walk out on the balcony and the beauty of the ocean under the bright sun overwhelms you, making you squeal with excitement. Not being able to wait any longer to feel the caress of the waves, you hurry back to the room and wake Joel up with a soft kiss.

“Wake up, sleepy. Let’s go swimming before the sun sets.”

Joel’s golden skin is sparkling with a myriad of water diamonds as he’s standing waist-deep in the bluest ocean in front of you, rendering you completely mesmerized. He chuckles, noticing the way you’re almost drooling, and pulls you closer into his embrace. With his body pressed to yours, your pussy starts aching, and a twitch in his swim trunks tells you that he’s also affected by the sight and the feel of you.

“Damn, baby, driving me crazy…your tiny bikini…”

“Do you like it?” you ask, brushing his neck with your lips, tasting salt on his skin.

“Hate the way they all stare at you. You’re mine. But the way you look. Yeah, I like it,” he growls and bucks his hips against you under the water. You giggle and then sigh into the crease of his neck.

“I’m yours,” you whisper. ‘Are you mine?’ you think. You push the thoughts back into a box in your mind you promised yourself not to open here. ’You’re in heaven. Don’t ruin it,’ you remind yourself.

The next morning you wake up and see Joel right next to you, limbs tangled in the sheets, plush lips asking for a kiss. A rush of happiness makes you tear up and you squirm with impatience to start the day when Joel opens his eyes. He’s gorgeous in the morning — hair disheveled, voice hoarse. He looks a little grumpy but you kiss the crease between his brows away and his face softens.

“Morning, my angel.”

You wish you could hear it till the rest of your life. Or at least next week. He pulls you into his sleepy body, the hug is tight, the kiss is impatient, and soon the murmur of the ocean accompanies your whispers as you’re riding him, your thighs, sticky with sweat cling to his hips, his hand is kneading your breast, the other’s focused on making you come, thick fingers swirling around your clit. He expertly brings you to a hard orgasm and follows quickly after—the back of his head dips into the fluffy pillow as he bursts into you and you milk him to the last drop, happy to walk around with his cum between your legs all day.

Joel’s lying on a lounger now, his expression concentrated, reading a book in the shade, while you’re standing a few steps away, drying yourself with a towel, just out of the ocean. You can’t help but stare at his handsome face, the broadness of his shoulders, his big arms. God, he’s gorgeous. Feeling your heart eyes on him, Joel glances at you from the side and his lips curve into a playful smirk. It sends a bolt of lightning through your body, electrifies every nerve, makes your core burn with desire.

No need for words. His expression tells you everything - ‘C’mere. Now.’

Still dripping water, you walk to him and straddle his muscular thighs, barely covered by his red shorts. His legs are hot against your cold skin but you melt into your bikini bottoms because of his eyes— obsidian, piercing, magnetic, they pull you close and you lie down on his chest. His book, forgotten in a second, falls on the sand with a thud. You kiss his soft lips and whisper against them, “Take me to our room.”

Delicious dinners at sunset, the warm ocean, the white sand, clinging to your heated body, but most importantly him next to you make the time here fly. Blissful minutes turn into hours, hours flow into days. Full of laughter, long conversations, endless kissing and hot sex. But your ideal life, your paradise starts glitching and breaking into pixels when one morning he offers, “Wanna go get some souvenirs?”

Just one question, as trivial as it can be on a holiday, breaks the wall you’ve built in your mind between your perfect existence here and your reality there. Between your present and your future. Near future. You’re going back soon. To that life.

Suffocating panic tightly grabs your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to drive away the thoughts, to glue the wall back together but he muses what he should get for Sarah and your wall turns into glass and shatters into a million pieces.

You mumble something incoherent trying to fight the upcoming tears and rush to the bathroom.

By the time you’re standing in front of the mirror tears are flowing down your cheeks and you hastily wipe them away, hating to upset him, but your heart and your head, joined in a cruel tandem, remind you that everything is going to go back to normal very soon. Normal for him is a misery for you. Waiting, hoping, asking him to stay longer, wishing that he finally makes a decision, finally chooses you.

The rest of the day you’re quiet, afraid to speak and to let your emotions spoil your precious time together. It gets unbearably hard to ignore the fact that you’re having him all to yourself on borrowed time. You start or rather let yourself notice his calls, his voice quiet, probably lying about his business meetings. He talks to his wife on the balcony or in the bathroom, not to keep you a secret —you know how to be quiet when she calls at this point, but rather not to rub her in your face. You’re thankful, not wanting to reopen the wound that’s been slowly healing up during these days together. Yet you know that soon it’s going to gush blood again when you say goodbye to your paradise and return to your empty bed, fleeting dates with him and soul-crushing loneliness.

You disassociate when he talks about packing and the flight back. You kiss him and want to cry, moan his name under the weight of his body but your heart aches. Every touch is a reminder that soon it’ll be over, soon he’ll be hers again.

It’s the last day of the trip and early in the morning you sneak out while Joel’s still asleep and go to the beach. It’s almost empty, only seagulls are the witnesses of your breakdown. You’re crying, swept by a wave of dreadful thoughts in your mind. Tomorrow you’re leaving and then he’s leaving you. For a day? Two? A week? Who knows.

You can’t blame him. You knew that he was married from the start. At first it felt like a fling but you got attached, you fell in love with the married man and foolishly expected him to divorce his wife, scoop you up in his big arms and carry you into the sunset like in a cheesy rom-com. But he kept telling you that, yes he didn’t love his wife anymore, but his daughter Sarah was too young and she was his world. He’d never hurt her like that, would never break up the family.

They say, you can’t change the ocean, no matter how hard you try, so it’s best to learn how to sail in all conditions. Just like the ocean Joel was unyielding in his devotion to his daughter but you failed to adapt so you were slowly drowning in despair, your love for him dragging you down like an iron ball chained to your foot.

You wipe the tears away and squeeze a handful of sand between your fingers as anger rises in your stomach. You deserve better than being someone’s dirty secret. What if you give him an ultimatum - you or his wife, and if he chooses her, you’ll find someone else. Someone who’ll love you openly, who’ll choose you. Someone better.

A thought makes your stomach sink - it’s not possible. Joel is perfect. He’s fucking perfect except for one huge flaw. He’s married.

You walk with your heart heavy back to your room and find Joel up, nervously pacing the floor. He asks where you’ve been and, not being able to conceal your feelings any longer, you burst into tears. He rushes to hug you but you slap his arms away. You shout, you cry, you beg. All the pain pushed deep down is spilling out of your heart, accompanied by the words you hate saying, insecurities you promised yourself to hide but it’s hard to stop.

It’s not like he hasn’t heard it all before. He has and that’s why now he looks tired. Not angry. Never. Just tired, sad and guilty.

Joel tries to calm you down, comfort you but all in vain. You’re waiting for him to tell you ‘I’ll be with you forever,” but instead he mumbles that he needs to take a walk and leaves you crying, face buried in his pillow. His scent woven into the fabric brings a thought to your mind which makes you cry even harder — soon you’ll go back to your flat where everything smells like him but loses the warmth of his body the second he leaves.

In the evening Joel timidly suggests going to the hotel bar. You feel embarrassed for your earlier outburst, but the fact that he didn’t make the decision you hoped for is twisting your stomach. Thinking that everything is better than staring at the suitcases in the corner of the room, you agree to go.

The bar is almost empty except for the two of you. You sit at the counter and order two shots of tequila. After emptying them fast, you both get two more and soon the hard liquor slightly numbs your emotions.

Joel’s warm hand is resting on your lower back as he’s peppering your shoulder, your neck, your cheek with open mouth kisses, but you’re cold, distant. It’s hard even to look at him.

He sighs but then suddenly exclaims, making you jerk,

“I love this song! Let’s dance!”

You smile a little, amused by the lights in his eyes. He’s cute when he’s tipsy. But you shake your head and mumble that you’re not in the mood.

Joel surprises you when he slides off his stool and starts dancing. Alone. For you. Despite everything you can’t tear your eyes off him. His dark gaze set on yours pierces your soul and makes your heart flutter in your chest. His movements are slow and alluring and the sway of his hips ignites fire in your core. You press your thighs together, quickly affected by his blatant seduction, and when he moves closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body, it gets hard for you to breathe.

Joel’s lustful eyes tell you to submit and when he places his hands on your knees, you obediently open your legs in invitation. He gets between your thighs and gently takes your face in his hands. Joel looks into your eyes and you stop breathing altogether. At this moment you realize that you’ll never leave him willingly, never be able to say goodbye to these kind brown eyes, these soft lips, these gentle hands. He’s the love of your life and you’re his completely and utterly. But he’s not yours.

You rush to your room, both swept by the urge to tear each other apart. Soon your clothes are littering the floor, your cheek pressed to the bed, ass pushed out in the air, as he’s kneeling behind you, snapping his hips against you hard and fast, pushing his throbbing cock deeper into your wet cunt, grunting, making you scream. His fat tip knocks at your cervix and it slightly hurts but you welcome it, wishing to focus on the ache from his length rather than the pain torturing your soul. His hands are leaving marks on your soft hips and you’re looking forward to seeing them on your body later as evidence that this trip was in fact real and not a wishful dream.

“Fuck— gonna come— you first, baby,” Joel growls and rubs your clit with an impatient hand, wet with your juices. You come shaking and crying on his cock and he rewards you with his load, squirting against your pulsating walls, which are squeezing him tightly and desperately. He’s carefully pulling out, and your tight cunt grabs onto him. Just like your heart, your body always craves him.

You wake up when it’s still dark outside. Joel’s chest is pressed to your back, his hand is cupping your wet folds, as he’s taking you from behind, sleepily moving his cock in and out of your sore pussy, drenched with his cum.

“Oh, baby— ahhh—love you—so much—yeahh— so good—,” he’s whispering in your ear, his voice gruff with sleep, his hot breath caressing your cheek. You moan softly before echoing him, “I love you, Joel.”

You beg him not to stop, already feeling yourself on the brink of ecstasy. The nature of your relationship makes it a rarity to be used by him in your sleep and you get turned on instantly. His arm snakes under and wraps around you as he starts pulling and twitching your nipples, while his other hand massages your puffy folds and then moves up.

“Damn—right here,” Joel grows, feeling a lump, moving under your skin. Thrusting his cock in and out with a steady rhythm, he mumbles, “Gimme,” grabs your hand and presses your palm tightly to your own belly, covering it with his hand.

“Feel it?”

“Yes, Joel, fuck,” you whimper and turn your head to catch his lips with yours. Joel keeps fucking you leisurely while you both are feeling the push of his cock under your skin.

Completely drunk on pleasure, swallowing each other's moans, you start coming hard at the same time, and your bodies, wet with sweat, jerk against each other. You feel so full, complete - your core is full of his load, your heart is full of his love. Happy in your oblivion, you fall asleep in the heaven of Joel’s arms.

But the dreaded morning comes fast. You try to concentrate on the tasks at hand, focus on the last preparations and soon Joel and you get into the cab, ready to head to the airport. You throw one last look at the hotel and the ocean, and take a deep breath, fighting the urge to cry. Sensing it, Joel pulls you closer and starts telling you an old childhood story, something about his brother Tommy and them ditching school together. You know what he’s doing but surprisingly it works and soon your giggles and his deep laugh fill the cab, lighting up the air between you two.

When you arrive in Austin, Joel insists on going to your address together. You refuse at first, but spending an extra hour with him sounds amazing. You hold hands on the way and shamelessly make out at the back of the cab.

You arrive at your place and Joel helps you with your suitcases. When you step into your flat, it seems like you’re carrying something heavy on your shoulders. Should you apologize for the last few days? Should you say something about it at all, risking leaving a bad taste in your mouths, ruining the whole trip.

But Joel beats you to it.

He comes up to you and hugs you tight. So tight that it’s hard for you to breathe. You nuzzle his neck, reveling in his scent, and suddenly you feel his whole body shake. You tilt your head up and see tears in his sad eyes. You’ve never seen Joel cry before, and it makes your chest hurt and your eyes well up too.

“Joel?“

“No, baby. Listen to me.” His voice is shaky, and fear grips your heart. Is he going to break up with you? You’d die on the spot.

He sniffs and continues,

“I’m sorry. Sorry for the mess I got you in. Sorry for your tears, but — I can’t, baby. Can’t do what you want from me. Rightfully so, but — not now. I’m sorry.”

You’re shaking your head, your teardrops landing on his tee,

”No, it’s ok. It’s fine.”

“It’s not, sweetheart. I’m an asshole. It’s horrible what I’m doing to them and to you. But I’m fuckin selfish. I can’t — can not be with you. I need you. I love you too much.”

You smile weakly, hearing his confession. Joel takes your hands in his and holds them tightly as he croaks,

“And you decide to stop seeing me, I’ll understand. I won’t bother you. I promise.”

You wipe tears off his scruffy cheeks and reach up to give him a kiss.

When you part from him, your expression is serious and determined.

“There’s nothing to decide, Joel. I love you. And I’ll wait for you. As long as you need me to. I’m yours.”

Joel’s red eyes dart between yours, and you give him a reassuring smile. After taking a deep breath, he whispers ,

“I don’t deserve you.”

He lifts you up, strong arms wrapped around your torso, and crashes his mouth against yours. You kiss him back with passion, putting your love in every stroke of your lips. Joel possessively licks into your mouth, his big hand cups the back of your head, keeping you close - a sign that he’s not letting you go. He needs you too much.

It might be wrong, it might bring you both grave pain, but a glimmer of hope in your heart, given by his confession, puts a smile on your face when you close the door behind him. He loves you, he wants to be with you, you’re his. And for now, it should be enough.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

People who were interested in the wip: @baronessvonglitter @almostfoxglove @tammythr @sawymredfox @myownwholewildworld @guiltyasdave

[snowluvvie]

“Rafe x innocent gf” except i know his pos misogynistic ass has a madonna-whore complex so you walk in on him fucking some other girl’s throat, literally suffocating her on his cock gripping both sides of her head for leverage like she’s a fleshlight and not even looking at her. when you start sobbing and run away he literally tosses her off of his dick so he can run after you and his defense is like “baby, I would never treat you like that!! you’re so perfect baby you’re too good for that, okay? i’d never do that to your perfect mouth!!” and you’re ugly sobbing because not only is he cheating on you but he’s apparently been giving you the most mid dick of all time not because he’s bad at fucking, but because he thinks you’re too good for the crazy shit he’s been doing to OTHER PEOPLE

[miyaagis]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐I desire violently—and I wait. gojo satoru

political unions are means to strengthen a clan, and you were lucky enough to willingly accept his affections and give him an heir—a son. so, why does he need backup heirs from other women?

(sequel to 444)

explicit content‐mdni. ₊˚⊹ ⚝ clan head!gojo, wife+mom!reader, infidelity, hurt little comfort, angst, jealousy, gojo being a boy dad, unnamed three-year-old baby gojo, pet names (honey, love), mentions of breeding and pregnancy.

word c. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ a bit over 1,000

clan head gojo art inspo

the gojo estate had always been blessed with bright landscapes during winter.

gray skies blended seamlessly with the light colored buildings, graced by the light rain (even with monsoon season still months away) and a calm atmosphere brought by the cold mornings.

"fishie c'mere."

your son wiggled his little fingers inside the water of the fishpond, squealing in delight when a fish splashed next to him. the three-year-old turned to look at you, bright eyes shimmering with mirth and child-like wonder.

"kōhaku!"

still crouched next to the pond, he loudly repeated what he had been taught recently by his governess.

even at his young age, his curiosity for the world surrounding him seemed endless, constantly having the clan's nannies on their toes only to get his way with that charming smile he clearly inherited from satoru.

"is that my mochi!?"

the exaggerated gasp from your husband quickly caught the little boy's attention, searching for his dad by turning his head left and right.

satoru's grip around his son came from behind, his little sandals falling from his feet as he's thrown up in the air before landing safely in his father's arms.

"papa, look! kōhaku!"

your husband gasps, dangling the boy over the pond as they watched the fish swim, "woahhh! my son is so smart!"

the little boy giggled as satoru littered his chubby cheeks with kisses, getting thrown over his dad's shoulder as they made their way towards you.

"good morning, my love," he leaned down to peck your lips, smiling tenderly at you. "has the little squirt been giving you any trouble?"

"he woke up an hour ago" you sighed, and he could perfectly picture you handling the cranky boy all by yourself.

"mama, i'm hungry." your son whined, letting his head fall against satoru's shoulder as he pouted adorably. "tummy hurts."

"go wash up, I'll handle breakfast," seeing the tired look on your face, he knew he had to cut you some slack and do his part as a parent. "take as long as you need, sweetheart."

with a kiss on your temple and a thankful smile from you, he sent you back to your shared bedroom while he took your little one to the kitchen.

"c'mon, mochi. let's go make mama something yummy."

—

two hours earlier.

satoru felt the warm embrace of his mistress nuzzling against him, her arms wrapped around his middle, and their legs tangled together under the thick comforter.

the sun wasn't even up, but the birds already chirped loudly through the window.

her faint sigh caught his attention, pulling her closer by throwing her leg over his hip while caressing the smooth surface of her thigh. they didn't even bother with clothes the night before, cocooning against each other after falling limply on the bed.

small kisses had warmth blooming on her skin, the comforting heat shared between their nude bodies as they stayed cuddled together.

"again?"

the clear disbelief in her tone made him chuckle, grunting softly as he pulled half of her body on top of his.

"I have to make sure it takes."

she hummed and smiled sleepily, pressing her lips onto his as he nudged her bare folds with the crown of his shaft right before sinking in her warmth.

they both felt their bodies ease up in relief, soft sighs exchanged in between sloppy kissing as he lazily thrust inside her.

satoru kept his face nuzzled against her neck, breathing her in while his arms wrapped around her. eventually, his lips moved back to her mouth in need of intimacy, the languid strokes of their tongues matching the steady pace of their lovemaking.

it didn't take him long to feel his member twitch and throb, emptying another load of his seed inside the woman, murmuring sweet nothing's as his length softened and slipped out of her.

satoru found it easy to fall asleep again with his mistress in his arms.

—

the fabric of your robes rustled silently around your feet—which seemed glued to the floor, as you watched her exit the main house of the gojo estate after another meeting between the Gojo's and her own clan.

her eyes met yours, and her hand immediately went to her flat stomach, as if protecting it, which made you scoff. and it only worsened when your husband held her hand as he helped her descend the wooden stairs.

all you could offer was a blank, emotionless stare, your sleeping son carefully held in your arms with his face hidden in the crook of your neck.

her eyes went to him, and your instincts screamed at you to shield him from her. what else did she want from you? was she after your son as well?

satoru swiftly rushed his mistress towards the exit so he could go back to you, having seen your distress. once he met you at the entrance of your own home, his frame interrupted your stare-down with the woman.

"let's go inside, honey." his tone was calm and gentle, coaxing you to let the issue go and head inside, but you didn't move. "please?"

"have you fulfilled your part of the deal?"

the coldness of your gaze had your husband pouting like a kicked animal. he ached to reassure you of his love, but he was quickly running out of ways to prove it.

"yes, I have."

wordlessly, you turned around with your son cradled close to you, his little fingers clinging onto your robes and satoru right behind you.

"my love, I hold no feelings. you know this already."

his reassurance was of little to no use. how he expected you to accept him impregnating another woman was beyond you.

"it's a political union," he vehemently said, knowing he had to convince you that she'd never become a wife of his. he'd give her a child—a backup heir—in exchange for her clan's resources and political ties. "I hold no feelings. you are my wife and the mother of the gojo clan's heir."

after putting down your son in his bed, making sure his soft hair was out of his forehead and the blanket kept him warm, you finally met satoru's gaze back.

"I don't want to know anything about her existence. don't ever bring her to my home again."

satoru nodded eagerly, willing to promise anything in order to end your sour mood. "I won't."

your son's room went silent besides the small breaths of his as he slept, unaware of the conflict worming inside his own home.

"but I will be out of our home more often." satoru knew he had to be careful with his words, blue eyes watching your reaction closely. there was no way to make it hurt any less, and he was finding it harder to conceal the excitement brimming from him. "she's pregnant."

satoru had to make sure the mother of his unborn baby had everything she wanted—him included.

[fallstaticexit]

To Continue -> 18+ Pillowfort (TW: Sex, Nudity, Choking, Marking/Biting/Bruises)

Prev / Next / Beginning

Transcript under the cut

Nancy Narrates: [I won the bid. My father looked me in the eyes and smiled. My name is displayed all over the media. I had almost everything I could possibly want. So why was I still so deeply unsatisfied]

[door swings open]

Lily: Well. Look at you, celebrating your big win by gazing at the bottom of a bottle. A true CEO in the making.

Nancy: What do you want? Why are you here?

Lily: Wouldn’t I be a bad sport if I didn’t come congratulate the victor?

Nancy: [scoffs] Don’t waste your breath. I’m hardly moved nor am I flattered.

Lily: I didn’t think you had it in you. Who would have thought that feeble, meek woman I met had some bite to her after all? Paying off my guys in Tomarang? That’s pretty fucking low. God, I should sue your ass for everything you’re worth.

Nancy: It’s a man’s game, right? Isn’t that what you said? Take what you want? I deserve this. So I took it.

Lily: What is it that you really want, Nancy? Are all your accomplishments for meaningless gratification or do you truly love being a vile bitch?

Nancy: You wanna know what I want?

Lily: Go on. Humor me.

Nancy: Alright.

Nancy: I want you to kiss my heels.

Lily: [huffs] Wha- what did you just say to me?

Nancy: I said, I want you to kiss my heels. I won, didn’t I? You’ve come all this way to my office dressed in red because you know I’m a winner. I deserve this and now, I want my prize; you on your knees kissing my heels.

Lily: [sneers] Are you asking me or are you telling me?

Nancy: I’m telling you. Now get up.

Nancy: Crawl.

Lily: [panting] What else?

Nancy: [breathlessly] E-else?

Lily: [groans] Fuck. I need you to tell me what to do.

Nancy: I don’t know...I’ve never-

Lily: Do you want me to take this off?

Nancy: Y-yes...

Lily: Tell me to do it.

Nancy: T-take off my skirt. Now.

Lily: Keep going. Tell me more.

Nancy: I-

Nancy Narrates: [Oh God. What the hell am I doing]

Nancy: I want you to take off my panties..

[frownyalfred]

Sending res an ask is like guiltily adding a dirty dish to the sink while someone else is doing the washing up. I adore your work, and hope you are having a wonderful day.

However, this idea has been torturing me and even the slightest chance of queen res reading my ask makes it worth sending. So I present to you, without further ado, my dirty dish.

It's angsty cloisbat sex pollen fuck-or-die.

Clark gets whammied with sex pollen and it takes him OUT, like OUT OUT. He can't fly. He can't talk. He's barely even lucid. It's killing him, literally, and the only way to stop him from dying is to make him come over and over. However, Lois, his wife, isn't here. She's a five hour plane flight away. Three if she takes the private jet Bruce immediately sent for, but it's not enough. She won't get there in time. So, the league choose the next best option to keep Clark alive until Lois arrives. Bruce.

After a half hour scramble to get on the plane, a nerve wracking three hour flight, and a fifteen minute mad dash to make it to where Clark was being housed; Lois walks into the room just as Bruce walks out. Naked as the day he was fucking born, covered in bruises and bite marks and bullet scars and practically dripping with come. Her husband's come.

He doesn't even acknowledge her as he walks with a heavy limp over to a cooler and takes out a bottle of water, chugging it in one go. She can hear Clark whimpering in pain through the soundproofed walls and smell blood, sweat and tears.

She feels lost. And hurt. And angry, irrationally angry. At Bruce. At Clark. Betrayed. Exhausted. Anxious. Worried for herself and everyone involved- and...

Sickeningly, nauseatingly curious.

The same kind of curious that made her fall for an alien from another planet. The same kind of curious that got her stuck in active warzones.

The same kind of curious that was now yelling at her to drag Bruce back into that room and watch her dear sweet harmless Clark fucking ruin him until there was nothing left.

Ooooof. Yeah, I can see this happening, but I would also propose: Bruce stumbling out into the hallway bruised, bleeding, and exhausted and telling her he can't in good conscience ask anyone, much less an untrained civilian, to go in there and endure Clark while he's like this. Bruce is a big guy, he's strong and if Clark isn't using his powers maybe they're on less even footing, but it's still rough.

Bruce isn't jealous, he isn't possessive, he's just thinking of 5'6 Lois who's like 130 lbs soaking wet and can't ask her to do this. Not even ask -- he can't let her do this. She'd be injured and traumatized at best. Bruce can handle this, because he's done it before. Injuries and pain are his job, and he's endured trauma from a loved one before. He can't ask Lois to let her own husband traumatize her.

And then, they negotiate Lois watching while Bruce takes the metaphorical punches for her. If he's going to do this, she's going to watch the whole time. At times, imaginging it was her -- at others, grateful it isn't.

[pricesprincess]

smut mdni | cheating | fat! babysitter! fem reader + edited repost from my old blog

You've heard the term home wrecker.

But how can you wreck one when you were invited in it to watch over the children that occupied it?

Their mother was a classic case of regretting her life choices and marrying too young, meaning she was gone more than home trying to replace the years she wasted on her marriage and motherhood.

Her job was more important, and you were pretty sure whatever man she was fucking was doing a good enough job because a few times she came home late, happy as a plum, and glowing with that after-sex look and the smell so heavy on her like an expensive perfume.

You were familiar with that scent, seeing that John had his fingers hooked in your cheek as he fucked you in the very same bed his wife was in earlier that day, making you cream on his cock twice.

Everything started off slow.

It was a few nights a week when John knew he had to stay late while their mother was gonee and there was no one to watch his four children. Two sets of twins, born short

One evening when you got all his kids down John cornered you in the living room for a drink and somehow you ended up gagging on his cock before sinking down on the fat girth with a small muffled moan.

"Don't be too loud, sweet'eart; we don't want to wake anyone up."

Then it progressed into every night you came over, even for an hour, because the kids wanted to see you, and they loved the way you tucked them in before reading a bedtime story.

Soon John proposed you move into the guest room downstairs, and with it was a significant pay raise, so you did it without a problem; plus, it meant unlimited access to him, the man you were beginning to fall in love with. You were going to burn yourself doing this.

You were playing house and did it so well too.

The cold gold of his ring didn't bother you when he grabbed the fat of your hips to pull you back on his thick cock that speared you open on him as he had your face buried in his pillow and floating in pure bliss.

John was as rough as he was sweet.

He made sure to never do anything suspicious with you in front of anyone so the bite marks he left were always hidden under your clothes.

But you could never leave anything like that on him due to his wife finding out lest she catch him naked somehow.

Monday morning you were in the kitchen after dropping the kids off at school when John pressed you against the counter. "You love playing house with me, my sweet housewife who wants to give me another baby."

Those words shouldn't make your pussy flutter around his cock later that night when his wife left shortly after a quick dinner and a goodbye, leaving you to be the wife 2.0, and you didn't mind it for now.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you humped his dick; his hands roamed the curves of your body, rough hands tracing the dips between your thighs and hips, squeezing the fat, watching the flesh spill between his thick and calloused fingers.

Then he pressed the rough heel of his palm against your belly. "You'll grow, my baby, right here."

His words were husky and filled with a promise as he used the advantage of his feet on the bed to fuck up into you, thrusting deeply, making you feel every inch of his throbbing cock that pulsed.

He loved feeling the way your cunt tried to milk him whenever he mentioned you being his wife and the mother of his children.

John glided his thumb against your swollen clit, watching you come undone on top of him. Your pussy was so wet and creamy, leaving a ring around the base of him, creating a milky white mess.

During the day you'd have to pretend everything was normal and you didn't just have John's cum splattered on your face in the shower last night before you were fucked against the cold tiled wall.

It was awful to have him like this.

Only in the late-night hours when sleep fell upon everyone would you be up letting John eat his cum from your gaping cunt and then spit it back out, followed by two thick fingers that slid inside.

He loved to make sure everything stayed like that even though there wasn't a chance he could get you pregnant with birth control.

But the fantasy was fun to think about.

Being pregnant with John's baby, knowing that he's coming home to you and your children.

They already accidentally called you Mom, which you immediately curbed. You love them like your own, but you didn't feel comfortable with that seeing you're the babysitter, and you didn't want to cause any more problems.

His wife would definitely make the rest of his life hell if she ever found out, so you two met in secret after all the lights were turned off.

Weeks bled into months, and you were growing tired of the games. It ate away that the woman who no longer cared for John still got her way and had his last name.

The ring still sat on her finger, and you were pretty sure they even had sex sometimes, but you didn't want to know, so you didn't ask.

Friday evening after you and John tucked the children in for the evening you two ended up in the living room where you knew John would have you spread out on the couch to fuck you dumb.

"I think it's time for me to look for another job and place to live."

John hadn't been expecting you to tell him that.

The two of you sat on the couch staring at each other. The moment he moved, you jerked back and scooted over to the plush armchair.

Tension filled the room as you held the torrent of tears back but just barely when the front door swung open, followed by Mrs. Price.

Immediately, John focused his attention on her, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip out of the room and head to your already packed car.

It hurt to leave the children, but your heart couldn't take it anymore, so you left.

John called you twenty minutes later, his photo popping up on your phone, making your heart clench thinking of the man you fell in love with but couldn't have.

"Hello?"

"You left."

His voice was gruff, laced with the pain of your departure.

"I did. We were just playing house, Price, living out a fantasy. I'm not your wife, nor will I ever be. We were stupid to begin what we did."

You hung up and blocked his number but still kept the text messages and pictures you took of him. His smile met his eyes whenever he looked at you and his kids but never his wife.

It didn't take you long to find another job, making sure to keep to yourself and tend to the children, that is, until the wife fired you, promptly saying you like to sleep with the dads.

Thankfully, she had tact about it, unlike most of the other women who called you an assortment of names, carving your stomach into a pit.

John must be telling people that you're ruining homes; there was no other way for these people to even assume that you're like this.

The last job interview left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing the parents talk about you in such a manner that made your skin tight with hurt and your eyes water as you left their home in a rush.

Rent was due, and so were your other bills.

Babysitting was the only way to get all that taken care of. Now you were staring down at the list of things that needed to be paid by the end of this month, which was coming quicker than you wanted.

Sitting in the driveway of your last failed interview, you unblocked John's number and jabbed at your phone screen, dialing his number by heart now. It's been close to a year since you started working for him.

Not only did he pay you well. You were also living in his home, and now you have no job or place to live.

"Hello, love."

His voice grated on your nerves at how he greeted you all smug-like, your fingers tightened around your device, and you growled softly.

"Mr. Price, I need my last paycheck."

In the background you heard his children calling your name, and part of you knew that he would use them to tug on your heartstrings. "The kids would like to see you. Come over, and I'll get it to you."

It felt like a custody agreement more than anything. The moment your car pulled into the lavish circular driveway, the front door burst open as four children made a beeline to you when you got out.

John watched from the front porch as you hugged each of his kids, listening to each one as they babbled on about how much they missed you and what they did while gone.

Now you had to face the music and get John out of your life.

[growth-opportunities]

"If you think about it, it was actually very feminist of me to get huge tits," her argument began.

"If you think about it, it was actually very feminist of me to get huge tits." Judging by the look on Faye's face, this was surely flawless logic.

Terry disagreed. "Faye, what are you-"

"After all, isn't feminism about a woman choosing what she wants to do with her life? Whether she wants to be a mother or a career woman or anything else she chooses?"

Shutting her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose did little to slow Terry's growing headache. "Seriously, Faye, that's not-"

"It's only in the last fifty or so years that banks were prohibited from taking a woman's marital status into consideration when considering credit applications! So, if I want to put $10,000 of saline on my credit card, really that's a celebration of-"

"Jesus fucking christ, Faye! Will you shut up for one goddamn second?"

Terry's outburst stunned Faye, blinking up at her friend. "Oh, uh, of course. What were you saying?"

"I was trying to say that, honestly, no one gives a shit about your huge fucking tits!"

"...Really?"

"God, no! Get yourself a butt to match or lips that take up half your face! Dye your hair platinum blonde and wear nothing but pink! I do not give a single flying fuck!"

As much as she could in spite of the Botox, Faye furrowed her brow. "...Wait, if you don't care about... Then why did you-?"

"I don't care about your saline stuffed balloontits, Faye. Really I don't. What I do care about is my girlfriend's cock buried between them!"

Recognition flashed across Faye's face. "Oh! Oh, I see..." Thoughts rushed in on Faye, clouding over her mind. Her eyes shifted down to the ground and Terry could almost hear the gears turning as well as the ringing of a little bell when Faye finally circled around a thought.

"I've got it! Question: do you own a strap? ...Terry? Terry, where are you going? According to feminism- Terry!"

[gladiatorcunt]

- TELL UR GIRLFRIEND | XV.

(tell ‘em, tell ‘em, tell ‘em) what it’s been with us this whole time

tags: kinktober prompt (cheating, not on reader), plus sized child of athena f!reader, unnamed random gf that gets heavily disrespected, obsessive behavior, reader’s lowk an entitled gifted kid, implied lack of boundaries, technology is allowed and older campers can live on the outskirts of camp, mutual toxicity, friends to lovers (derogatory), unprotected sex, breeding kink, arguable dub con sex & video recording, y’all are both enablers, creampie, emotional manipulation, canon divergence, southern!reader and luke hehe, implied murder, dead dove do not eat

note: pics are for aesthetic & vibes, hush.

please do no repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

You remember how this all started, getting too drunk at a party (Luke said you needed to reward yourself) and sucking him off in his room. Your big eyes boring into his as you gagged on him, your camcorder in your face, how you begged him to fuck you, to use you because he’s been so blind and you deserve it. He had to hold your head still because you were about to throw up, and you almost cried when he came in your mouth, begging for it to be in your belly, saturating your guts.

Your alcohol flooded brain wanted a baby more than you’d ever wanted anything in your entire life, even approval and admiration.

“See.” He hissed when you watched the video again in his room, before the second time, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit as you mewled, your head falling back against the couch. “That person loves me, would do anything for me, so drunk and desperate for my cock and they took it better than anyone else ever has. Like their pussy was made for me.”

You watched as Past Luke’s hands squeeze your tits through your top, holding them up for the camera. Past You drunkenly giggles, arching up into his touch. You wanted to stop watching, want to say it’s like a car accident you can’t help but stop and stare at, but you’re getting wetter as the video goes on. The rough rounds of fucking before and after the gentler ones, the random moments in between where he kissed your forehead and stroked a hand down your back to delicately cup your burning ass cheek.

The grainy footage includes him licking in between your stomach rolls and playing with your love handles, biting the fat on your thighs and spending a solid hour jiggling your ass in his hands.

Luke pushed his fingers into your entrance, watching your expression change. You had an out of body experience when two crackly low quality “I love you”s reached your ears, you saw it through Luke’s darkened eyes instead of your own.

“Gonna take that back, huh?” He whispered into your temple, shushing you when you try to shake your head, ‘friends can say I love you’. “I said it too, and no offense, but I wouldn’t have been in a staring content with your asshole while you were getting your pussy fucked if I meant it in a friendly way.”

You had agreed not to talk about it. Well, not “agreed” so much as you tripped over yourself getting dressed in the morning before he woke up. You probably would have avoided him until he hunted you down and locked you in a room with him. Now you’re watching an archive of a moment in time that should’ve never happened, but your wrap arms around the one that’s tensing with the effort of finger banging you and flicking your clit at the same time.

Luke paused the video and threw the camera Hades knows where. He grasped your chin in his newly freed hand, your pitiful sounds were muffled before you could give him any more excuses. You came around his fingers, getting his digits all sticky, then you let him fuck you again, sober, on the bed his girlfriend sleeps in when she stays over.

You’ve wondered if he ever humps the bed when he fucks her, chasing lingering remnants of your scent and your juices. If that’s what it takes to make him cum in the cheap condoms provided by the camp’s staff to the older campers. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, you may be a child of Athena but you’re stupid enough to let your taken best friend hit it raw whenever he pleases.

Which you proceed to do for the next few months.

“Come on baby, better bounce faster before she calls and asks where I am.” Luke teases, slapping your ass when your downward thrusts falter.

You look around nervously but your pussy clenches around him, you were the one that initiated after all. Climbing into his lap after he drove you home, batting your eyelashes until he unbuckled you and corralled you into over the console and into his lap. You’ve been crushing on him forever, your best friend, it’s only when he thought he could get a serious girlfriend who became more than a one night fuck that you snapped.

Morality and logic have always had a hold over you, that Athena’s child streak doing something nasty to your psyche. But she flipped out too back in the day, made women into spiders and snake monsters because she felt insulted, the apple will never fall from the sturdy branch.

“Shut up.” You hiss, digging your extra long acrylic nails (that he’s always paid for, his girlfriend has to pay for her own) into his sweaty pecs and slamming your ass down on him. “She shouldn’t be so toxic and just understand that best friends spend time together.”

“Maybe I should put her on speaker when she does, bet that’d make your lil’ crazy bitch heart happy.”

It’s not a question, because you both know it would. But for now it’s all just play, so you lean down to swap spit with Luke, sucking on his tongue as his dick fills you up raw. He doesn’t have any condoms in the car, and why would he bring them when he’s going to see his best friend? Never mind that you’ve both talked about your mutual breeding kings at length, life’s full of coincidences.

“Mmh.” He chuckles as you pull back, licking the remaining string of saliva away. “You’re wearing a new chapstick today, I like it.”

Your heart flutters, a giant butterfly with flame for wings making its forever home deep inside. Like his cock that hits that special spot every so often, you’d hit it more if you were focused but kissing Luke always gets you so messed up, you tongue fuck his mouth better than you actually fuck him. He taught you how to kiss back in middle school, couldn’t stand to see you pout from the sidelines after one too many games of spin the bottle.

You raise your hips and let his length slide out of you until only the tip remains, doing a few kegel exercises on it and giggling when you hear a throaty groan. You lean back and trail your hands up to cup his face, stroking the apple of his cheeks with a tender lover’s touch. His curls get their fair share of attention too, you curl your fingers around the ones hanging above his eyes.

“How bad do you want it?” Whispered into his open mouth, holding the world in your hands because he’s all you have and you’ll be damned to Tartarus if you’re not all he has too. “Want to give it to you so bad, always have, but this dick’s gonna be all mine or it’ll be nobody’s.”

You hump him as much as you can with his dick inside you, making sure he can every plush curve on your body mold to his shape. If you look down and squint you can see the dark spots on his pants, you’re staining him but the friction of the fabric against your lips only drives you to do it more. Your thighs fan out as you settle all your weight down on him and Luke tightens his grip so you can’t change your mind later.

Will you be embarrassed as hell when post orgasm clarity hits? Absolutely, but the way Luke’s pupils expand and his previously casual grip tightens on your wide hips to the point of pain make it worth it right now. He doesn’t answer quickly enough so you take his dick to the hilt again and just sit there, clenching around him in consistent bursts, giving him a second heartbeat.

“Fuck!” He hisses, he wishes he could fuck up into you without caring about you like he does his girlfriend. “You know how much I need it, stop playing, wouldn’t do the worst shit in the world just to keep you happy if I didn’t. How many more times do I have to say that?”

Your cheeks heat up and a spark lights in your eyes as you swiftly bring him into a kiss, gentle at first until you reach behind yourself to push his hands down to your ass. You start to roll your hips back into him, encouraging to play with you a little. These are the only times where you can let go and stop focusing on being so perfect.

Maybe you’re a bad person but that doesn’t really matter when you’ll always have someone in your ear and your holes saying the opposite.

Luke groans into the kiss and deepens it, squeezing the flesh of your ass until it bulges out between his fingers, pushing your jean shorts down to have easier access. His little cowboy, you’re so fucking cute his dick’s throbbing in your walls, you break away to kiss down to thick base of his neck because if you keep making out you’re gonna squirt and he’ll have to replace the seats again.

Soju combined with an obsessive years-long crush is a recipe for disaster, there are lingering notes of peach in the air as you start bouncing again. You both groan in unison, you swivel your hips and dig your knees into his car seat, bracketing his hips.

Your teeth threaten to sink into his throat but you can never summon up the will to do it, the image of your crooked teeth creating a unique jagged-blunt brand in his skin does more for you than the actual act. It’s all about the implication, the teasing, telling yourselves you’re toeing the line when your sticky bodies are pressed so close together the distance between atoms spans for miles.

Luke slaps your cheeks, lobbing them in his hands like they’re stress balls and not part of your body, he can tell that your thighs are wobbling already so he takes over without the usual smug banter and impales you on his girth himself. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so much better than hers, what the fuck- just like that, baby- I’d kill for this, for the chance to pound any part of you.”

You haven’t let him in your ass yet, you’re saving that for when you’re pushed far enough. You can picture it now, cooing “Bless your heart.” into the phone as her boyfriend fucks your asshole so hard it nearly tears. You’d keep her on the line while he kisses your puffy red rim better, turning up the volume so her heartbroken ravings compete with Luke’s slurping sounds, like you’re the best and most heart healthy bowl of soup he’s ever had.

You pant into the leather headrest, just about under his ear lobe, you let him prove his strength by manhandling your curves and working your pussy on his dick to his liking by grabbing your ass. You used to sneak into his cabin dorm and watch him use a fleshlight, the same way he’s using you now, muscle memory but you get some sweet chaste kisses littered on your shoulders and the tops of your arms.

“Give me something to remember you by.” You whisper into the corner of his jawline, because if you try to speak any louder your voice will turn into a mess of whines and mewls, you do not beg. “It’s getting cold out, I could really use a gift to keep warm, you know I run chilly.”

Luke grits his teeth but you can already feel him speeding up your thrusts, the wet smacks of your juices providing the soundtrack to another episode in your affair. What could that woman possibly give him when you’re scientifically and comparably better? From the sounds and looks of things, your pussy’s top notch and you’d be a valuable asset in his obvious schemes.

Your best friend of all people knows better than to think you’re anywhere close to stupid (other then telling him to axe the protection when you fuck), but you love him and his cock so much that you’d follow him off the ends of the earth.

Drops of his cum leak out onto the pavement as you stumble out of his car, but Luke’s a gentleman at the end of the day so he leads you inside and when you wake up there’s a new winter scarf wrapped up in a box with a black bow on your silk pillow.

The note on top says he’ll be late tonight.

[estah]

😃

Transcript:

"Hi Honey"

"Just arrived at my mom's house. The journey took longer than expected, and I'm so tired, lol. I figured you're busy since I haven't heard from you. Miss you."

"Also... I know this is out of the blue, but if I've done anything wrong, I'm sorry. You've seemed distant lately, and it feels like you're shutting me out of your life. Dakota, you promised to communicate. We can work through whatever is going on together. I love you."

[introloves]

tojis the kinda crazy to actively seek you out when you’re committed,, finds a nasty sort of thrill sending a, “she’s busy.” text, followed by a video of him drilling into you from behind- there’s just something about seeing your phone immediately light up with a call from them. tips his head back and laughs while you’re whimpering, stuttering out a-

“w-who’s calling?”

before leaning back down over you, kissing you like he loves you so much- flipping your phone over and wrapping an arm around your throat to keep you bowed against his pistoning hips.

“nobody, princess.”

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

GEORGE WEASLEY knows you’re with his brother, but you confuse him with all your mixed signals. Always holding his hand when you walk next to him down the halls, playing with his hair when you lay his head down on your thigh in the courtyard, inviting yourself to sit in his lap whenever you please. At first he thought you were mistaking him for your boyfriend, but it’s gone on long enough to where he knows that you can tell them apart. He sees it in your eyes how you recognize him, call him by name, and still lead him on. You wear his clothes when you’re cold and give them back smelling like your perfume; you excitedly run up to him for a friendly hug yet press your tits up against his chest while he’s forced to stoop and wrap his arms around your waist; you’ve compared your hand size to his and didn’t say anything when he broke out in a sweat, biting his lip nervously as he thinks about other contexts in which he’s bigger than you. Fred’s no help in this situation, he just thinks he’s got a fit girlfriend who he likes showing off. “Amazing, isn’t she?” he’ll tell George, and George wonders if he should be agreeing. His brother isn’t inviting him to try you out for a spin, is he? It’s hard to tell when he’s got that look in his eyes. George doesn’t know, but in the past, Fred’s gotten a lot of mileage out of the special privileges twins share.

[aurorawritestoescape]

GOING DOWN || 3,4 k

Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, darkish!reader, toxic!reader, boyfriend!Joel, ex who desperately wants you back!Frankie, soft!Frankie, infidelity (reader’s), praise kink, size kink, unprotected piv, creampie, handjob, m!oral, pussy eating, cum eating, f!masturbation, stalking (reader loves it), voyeurism, exhibitionism, swearing, dirty talk, pet names princesa-princess, mi amor- my love. Reader wears a dress. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I have no excuse for this one. I don’t know why I look at our baby Frankie and want to do all this. I’m not sorry though, it’s hot to me and also fictional😉 the title’s inspired by the song “I’m goin’ down” by Mary J. Blige and Frankie’s special talent😏 Happy Frankie Friday, my loves!💖

Written for @burntheedges ‘s roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was Exes. Thank you for the fun event, Kate❤️ Kisses to wonderful @milla-frenchy for beta-ing this filth😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more Frankie - The Hoodie

You are looking out of the window at the night street, illuminated by a few golden lights, when you feel Joel’s heavy hands on your hips and then his lips plant a kiss on your neck from behind.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles, his gruff voice coated with lust.

“No, fuck me right here.”

He smiles against your neck.

“Really? Want the neighbors to see us, dirty girl?”

“Yeah. Neighbors,” you smirk, not tearing your eyes from the car parked outside your apartment building. Your ex’s Pickup.

Joel pierces you with his big stiff cock and before you start moaning like a whore, you open the window a little so you two can not only be visible, but also perfectly heard from the street. Cool autumn air hits your heated face and your nipples get hard under your thin dress.

"Oh yeah, Joel! Harder!" you cry out, reveling in the way he's dragging his huge manhood in and out your channel. You're taking it like a good girl-always wet and tight for your boyfriend's cock.

Your fingers swiftly pull down your neckline, exposing your bouncing tits to whoever might look through your window. And you're sure that someone is looking.

Not knowing about your sick game, Joel is grunting loudly, thrusting deep and hard into you, your back flush with his broad chest. He’s rubbing his stubble against your neck, then your cheek until you turn your face to him and your lips lock in a sloppy and passionate kiss, while he’s holding you close, drawing pleasure from your tight pussy.

Joel’s hand snakes under your dress and having found your naked cunt, begins swirling your clit between two thick fingers. You part from his mouth, whimpering loudly.

“Yeah, baby! Let ‘em hear what a slut you are for me. Getting fucked in front of the whole neighborhood.”

His words push you over the edge and you come on his cock, crying out from pleasure. You don’t fake it. There is no need. He is that good.

Joel follows you soon and shoots his thick warm cum into your pulsating core. When he stills and pulls out, you hastily fix your dress and grab your dog’s leash.

“I’ll walk Tom.” You kiss Joel with tongue and leave the apartment, leaking your boyfriend’s load with every move.

When you step out into the night, you walk along the street a few meters and tie your dog to a street pole. On your legs, trembling from the hard orgasm, you saunter to your ex’s truck.

The passenger door is already open for you when you reach it and you get in, feeling cold air lap at your pussy, coated in Joel’s cum.

A pair of beautiful kicked puppy eyes greet you there and you turn slightly in your seat to see your ex better in the dark car.

Frankie’s wearing a denim shirt, dark blue jeans and his favorite baseball cap that you always hated for hiding his gorgeous curls. He looks the same as the day you left him. Maybe the bags under his eyes are darker but it could be the poor lighting at fault.

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” Your voice is soft and calm, with a pinch of sadness thrown in for his sake.

The man nervously fixes his cap and glances at you from the side, like a guilty dog. He clears his throat and lies,

“ ‘m checking on you.”

His velvety voice caresses your ear, it’s soft like everything about his character. He starts chewing on his lip while his eyes are staring into the darkness ahead of him.

“No, you’re stalking me, baby. I see your Pickup everywhere I go. Near my work last week. I spotted you at the bar today. And now you’re here… spying on me through the window.”

He proves that he watched your little show when he spreads his thighs wider and bucks his hips, unwillingly attracting your attention to his big bulge. You both are quiet for a few moments.

“I miss you,” he finally admits, turning to you. His eyes are sad and sappy and you should feel sorry, bad or at least sympathetic but the overwhelming feeling in your heart is a triumph. He’s not over you. You’re the best he’s ever had and he desperately wants you back.

You’ve been feeling elated lately when you noticed Frankie stalking you. It’s been fun playing with him and you don’t plan on stopping. You pull your brows together and coo,

“I understand, baby, but you can’t keep coming here. Joel’s a jealous type. I don’t want any problems.”

While you’re talking, Frankie’s nodding along, eyes downcast. You place your hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. His own big paw flies to yours and after bringing it to his mouth, he presses his lips to your palm. Your heart flutters at his need for you and your pussy tingles when you remember the way his plush lips were leaving kisses all over your body weeks ago.

“Baby,” you breathe out and he looks at you, not letting go of your hand. You see tears in his eyes, not enough to spill but enough to fuel up your ego. His eyes are so pretty like that, wet lashes and glossy chocolatey irises.

“Aww, Frankie,” you coo and open your arms to him. He rushes to you as if you’re his lifeline, wrapping his big strong arms around your torso and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re hugging him back, trying not to suffocate in his steel embrace and rubbing his muscular broad back. Frankie’s as big as Joel, both are much bigger than you, and warmth spreads deep in your core when his scent envelops you just like his body.

You smile when you notice him still wearing your favorite cologne.

Soon your body craves something more than just a hug so your lips part and a soft whimper escapes your mouth. You know well that your pretty noises always make him wild.

Your ex reacts immediately and you feel an open mouth kiss on your neck.

“Frankie.” Your tone is scolding yet fake and you sigh deeply, brushing his chest with your barely covered breasts. Your ex grumbles at the sensation and then whispers, his voice already strained with lust.

“I miss you so much.”

You hug him tighter and feel his hot breath on your cleavage when he leans lower to plant another kiss on your collarbone. His cap slides off his head and falls on the floor but he doesn’t care. Looking down at his beautiful dark curls you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails and Frankie almost roars against your chest. His arms pull you closer to him, even though your torso is already flush with his. He slightly lifts you off the seat and you tug at his hair in warning, steel in your tone.

“Put me down, Frankie.”

He listens to you like he always does but your roughness earns another loud groan from him. You smile, imagining how hard his cock must be now.

Frankie leaves soft kisses on your clothed chest, your belly and soon his head is resting on your lap, while his arms are wrapped around your hips as if he’s scared you’ll float away.

You’re stroking his head, marveling at the silky waves of his hair, shining even in the dim light, and slightly tilt your hips up when his prominent nose pokes your mound through the thin fabric of your dress. As if thinking about the same thing, Frankie breathes in full lungs of your arousal and a guttural moan vibrates against your covered pussy.

“I miss her, mi amor,” you barely hear him mumble and you sigh. Recently satiated by Joels’s pounding, your core gets reignited with sticky desire and you bite your lip, your dark gaze sliding over his sexy shoulders and his head, with his face hidden. You part your legs just slightly, letting him closer to your needy pussy.

Like a dog sniffing out his favorite treat, Frankie’s nuzzling your lap, and his lips and nose are brushing against your thighs, your lower belly, your cunt through the fabric.

You gasp when his fingers dig into your soft hips a bit too hard and he hastily relaxes his grip and looks up at you.

“Sorry, princesa.” His blown out eyes are filled with guilt and want and you give him a smile, cupping his scruffy cheek.

“It’s ok, baby, just be careful with me, ‘k? No marks.”

“Yes, yes, of course, mi amor,” he murmurs, returning his head back onto your lap.

After a couple of minutes in his arms, the fire in your core morphs into an ache and you squirm under him with impatience.

“I should go, Frankie. Joel’s gonna worry.”

“No, please,” he almost whines, hugging you tighter. “I—,” he stumbles.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I —? Can I see her?”

He’s staring up at you and you tilt your head to the side, faking confusion.

“Who?”

He knows that you understand but you need him to say it. So he plays by your rules. Like he always does.

“Can I see your beautiful pussy?” He sits up, facing you, his huge body squeezed in between the wheel and his seat. His bulge looks even more prominent now and you gush at the thought that he must be leaking into his boxers.

“Oh, Frankie, baby, you know I have a boyfriend. I can’t.”

His pleading eyes are fixed on you as he begs,

“Please, mi amor, just a look. I miss her so much. I miss you. Please.”

With another fake sigh you glance out of the window to check the surroundings, and after finding the street empty, you turn back to him.

“Ok, just for a second. Get in the back.”

“Thank you, mi amor,” he mumbles, hurrying out of the truck.

You squeeze between the front seats and sit down, turning to Frankie as he joins you at the back of the car. Your ex impatiently grabs the hem of your dress but you stop him.

“No one should know about this, understand?”

Frankie nods eagerly, mumbling yes’s like a junkie before getting a hit of his drug and you let him lift your dress and expose your naked pussy.

Your hands clutch the dress against your waist, and your legs are pressed together but it’s evident how wet you’re - your folds shine with Joel’s cum and your slick arousal.

Frankie’s breath hitches and his broad chest expands, straining his shirt.

“Beautiful,” he praises as his hand flies to the apex of your thighs.

“Nah-ah”, you grab his big paw midair and place it on top of your thigh.

“No touching. You wanted to look, right?”

“Yeah,” Frankie halfheartedly agrees, furrowed brows showing his discontent. “Then at least open your legs, princesa. Need to see her better.”

You try to contain your excitement as you tut at your ex,

“You’re so naughty, baby.”

You slowly part your thighs wide enough for your pussy to bloom in front of his hungry eyes.

Frankie’s mouth goes slack and his gaze clouds up when he sees your glistening pussy lips, puffy clit and your inviting hole. You shift a little on the seat, leaving wetness on the leather, and when you clench your walls in anticipation, you both see a little bit of pearly white liquid slide out of your entrance.

“Is this…?” Frankie mumbles, not tearing his eyes off your recently used cunt.

“Yeah. I know you’ve been watching Joel fuck me so don’t pretend that you’re surprised. My pussy’s full of his cum,” you say with defiance and wait for his reaction.

Frankie’s softly growls and his hand on your thigh contracts into a fist.

“Shhh, big boy,” you purr, bringing your fingers to your pussy. You gather some of Joel’s seed, leaking from your hole, and spread the creamy juices over your hardened clit. You rub yourself a few times and when a soft moan escapes your lips, Frankie echoes you.

“Feels so good,” you admit and begin pleasuring yourself in front of your ex.

“Jesus— fuck,” Frankie mumbles. His eyes are obsidian, forehead glistening with sweat with a few wet curls stuck to it. With his gaze tormented and pained, he reaches down to his belt.

“What are you doing, baby?” you ask, pausing your ministrations.

Frankie freezes and replies, stumbling over his words,

“I need — need to take my dick out. It hurts.”

“Ok, Frankie.” He hastily unzips his jeans when you add, “But don’t touch it.”

Frankie groans but then sighs with relief when he pulls the waistband of his boxers down, tucks it under his balls and his cock springs free. It hits his shirt and leaves a dark wet spot.

His member is throbbing, the dark pink tip, glossy and fat, is oozing his clear need for you and you lick your lips, enticing the man even more.

Frankie follows your orders and lets his cock bob and drip pre-fuck juice all over his balls and jeans while you moan again, tracing your sopping hole.

Your ex rubs his cheek, focused on the place he desperately wants to claim with his tongue and cock and croaks after wetting his plush lips,

“Let me kiss her, mi amor.”

Bingo.

That’s what you wanted as soon as you saw him at the bar today. If you cared to admit maybe you already dreamed about it when you noticed him stalking you last week. But what’s a prize without a game? Now it feels extra special.

With a little smile, you throw off your shoe and plant your bare foot on the seat, opening your thighs wider for him.

“You gonna taste another man’s cum on my pussy? just to kiss her?”

Frankie’s eyes snap up to yours and you see his defeat, his despair, his love in their depths.

He nods silently.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” you coo. “Ok, baby, go ahead.”

With a grunt Frankie bends down, slowly adjusting his position between your legs so it’s comfortable for you, and when his soft warm lips kiss your cold cunt, you flutter your eyes shut with a pleased mewl.

Frankie’s always been the best at pussy eating. Joel often goes down on you but it’s different. He demands your ecstasy, claims your pussy with his mouth, makes you scream when his rough tongue impatiently rubs at your clit. His movements say ‘Give me’ while he’s eating you out.

But Frankie. He’s whispering “Take it”. Take your time, take your bliss, take my lips and tongue and use them, let yourself drown in pleasure. He laps at you softly and languidly, licking your pussy like it’s the most delicate flower, the most delicious fruit.

You grab your phone out of your pocket and text Joel that you met a friend by accident and need to catch up.

Frankie doesn’t see any of it, he’s gone, fully concentrated on pleasuring your soft cunt. His hands are gently holding your thighs apart, his face buried in your pussy.

“How’s she?” you whisper, raking your fingers through his silky curls and tugging on them slightly to get his attention when he doesn’t respond right away.

“I taste him on you,” Frankie grumbles, parting from your sex, “‘m gonna get it off you.”

He returns to work, making out with your folds and sucking the other man’s cum off your clit and you already feel yourself close to unraveling.

“Yes, like that, baby. My pussy misses you.”

You feel Frankie smile against your cunt before he begins stroking your clit with his tongue again and again until you cry out his name into your hand, while your hole clamps around nothing, walls contract and release another portion of Joel’s thick load.

Trembling from the orgasm that’s rippling through your body, you watch Frankie lap at your entrance, drinking the runaway seed and your slick, prolonging your shattering climax with this depraved act.

He doesn’t stop kissing your pussy until you get overstimulated and try to close your legs.

“Did so good for me, Frankie,” you murmur through heavy breaths.

“Thank you, mi amor,” your ex gruffs, sitting up, his face blushed, the gaze hazy and drunk on you.

He’s shivering from the arousal, his engorged cock generously leaking precum, and you take mercy on the man.

You scoot closer to him, wrap your hand around his hot cock and start slowly pumping it. It’s soaked with his juices so your palm slides easily over his hard length but to make him absolutely wild you gather some slick off your cunt and rub the underside of his cock where his tip meets the shaft with your wet thumb.

Frankie moans like a needy slut and in a second the first rope of cum shoots out of his slit.

You hastily lower your head, take the head between your lips and start drinking his load as he’s feeding it to you, jerking and thrusting his hips up, while your hand is gliding over his shaft.

You swallow everything to the last drop and lick it all over, cleaning his cock and earning a jerk of overstimulation from your ex. Then you sit up, wiping your mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

“Fuck, princesa, I love you,” Frankie breathes out falling onto the backrest, his cock softening but still standing at attention. You smile at his confession and your hunger finally seems satisfied.

You begin fixing your clothes and he watches you for a few seconds before tucking his cock into his jeans and then shifting closer to you. He gets into your space and you feel his warm hand pressed to your lower back. His huge frame is looming over you and you look up into his chocolaty eyes. They seem sad again.

“I want you back, mi amor—I... I need you.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head, taking his big hand in yours.

“You know it’s over, Frankie. I’m sorry, but I’m with Joel now.”

“Why? Why can’t you be with me? Why is he better?” He asks, furrowing his brows and leaning even closer to you.

“Baby,” you whine, averting your gaze from his puppy eyes and tracing hearts on his hand. “We talked about it. He’s …he’s like whiskey, he’s rough and heady and… you’re like hot chocolate, Frankie. You’re sweet but you’re too saccharine for me.”

“I can get rough with you, princesa.”

You giggle and shake your head.

“It’s not who you are, baby. And it’s ok. Someone will love you for it one day.”

You hear him sniff before he yanks his hand away from yours.

You know you should leave, break it off once and for all but the sick, mean, greedy side of your soul wants to pull him back as soon as you have pushed him away.

“Frankie,” you purr and grab his arm as he’s about to get out of the car. A slight touch from you is all it takes to stop him and he turns to you, his eyes glossy, his expression defeated.

You get closer to him and take his face between your hands. To kiss him goodbye. To poison him more.

He falls into the kiss head first, embracing you tightly, pressing his torso to yours so close it’s difficult to breathe.

You both moan against each other’s lips and you pull on his hair with passion and possessiveness. His tongue is licking into your mouth and you’re tasting yourself, sensing a faint trace of Joel’s cum. It’s so sick and twisted that another surge of arousal burns your core.

You make out for some time until you part from his lips.

“I should go, Frankie,” you whisper, snaking out of his embrace.

Frankie’s arms fall and he nods, looking lost and inebriated. You use this moment to hastily get out of his car.

“Bye, baby,” you chirp, smiling at him, but before you close the door he wakes up from the trance and calls for you.

“I won’t stop, mi amor,” he admits with determination in his shaky voice. “I’m gonna keep coming. I need you.”

“I know,” you say with a fake sigh and close the door.

You’re walking to get Tom, feeling Frankie’s eyes on your back, and trying to calm down, you bite your lip, but the excitement overwhelms you and soon a triumphant smile spreads across your face.

Thank you for reading!💖

MASTERLIST || more Frankie- The Hoodie

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Tagging lovelies who showed interest in my Wip post @sawymredfox @604to647 @thundermartini @bonezone44 @casa-boiardi

[prettybabybaby]

rating: 18+. mdni.

pairing: sirius x reader

content: infidelity

sirius had been a dream at first. his impulsivity and recklessness were a sort of turn on for you in the beginning when life had been to take more of a serious turn. university was coming to an end, and graduation was just around the corner when you stumbled upon him for the first time. his onyx locks messily draped over his head, obscuring his eyes as he held a cigarette between his lips, the scent of smoke and whiskey radiating off his body like a sick cologne.

sirius was charming to a fault—not that he would personally think so, the girls tripping over themselves only inflated his ego. sirius could get whatever he wanted and more with a simple sly grin or a few pretty words. that was how he landed you, too. he wormed his way into your life seamlessly, almost too easily. and you’ve come to learn that he simply did it just because he could. you’re not stupid enough to think that sirius really loved you anymore.

sirius had lost interest as soon as the responsibilities of the real world started to kick in, acting more and more petulant with every argument about needing to grow the fuck up. it was baffling to you that sirius couldn’t manage even the most basic of tasks, simply throwing money at whatever he deemed below him. which you’re quickly learning is everything. things between you have been tense for months, with you wanting to take life seriously, and sirius wanting to fuck about with people as immature he is.

it wasn’t necessarily a big surprise when sirius was home less and less, spending a majority of his days in places you’re not aware of (he’d always refused to share his location with you but insisted you share yours with him). even less so when your texts were left on read and your calls went unanswered. sometimes, the only indicator that sirius had come home at all is the mess in every room, the hair on the bathroom floor, and the cash left on the table.

what did come as a surprise, was the significant decrease in sex. sirius was nearly insatiable at the beginning of your relationship, pawing at you whenever possible, sticking to you like a leech until he managed to get between your legs. but as the days went on with minimal advances, you couldn’t help the worry bouncing around in your head. while sirius may not love you, you still loved him.

the loud crashes against the wall as you entered your house sent a feeling of dread down your body, already knowing what you were going to find as soon as you opened the door to your bedroom. you almost debated if you should go in at all. if you should save yourself the heartbreak of actually witnessing his betrayal but you decided that you wouldn’t give sirius the satisfaction of finishing what he started.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen sirius look so flustered and… guilty than he did in that moment, mounted on top of another girl, her legs thrown over his elbows. his hips and stilled instantly and we went white as a sheet, the beginnings of what you almost couldn’t believe was an apology on his lips.

as soon as the girls moans had come to a stop and her eyes met your disappointed face in the doorway, they both began to move. the detangling of limbs and distance forced upon them as sirius’s cock slipped out of her, sticky and dripping with their combined juices. sirius hadn’t even bothered with a condom.

you didn’t even look at the girl as she scrambled past you, hurried apologies spilling from her lips. your eyes stayed fixed on sirius as he slowly stood, only bothering to slip on a pair of underwear when your eyes ventured down to his dripping cock.

you could only stare at him as the excuses began, the apology you thought would spill from his lips turned out to be nothing more than a feeble excuse, a supposed misalignment that he swore he would work on. but you’re not stupid enough to believe him anymore, simply turning on your heels and blocking out the pleas that tumble from his pink lips.

[miyaagis]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐ birth is the death of us. iwaizumi hajime

not feeling like yourself can ruin so many beautiful things like watching your baby grow and sharing such joy with your husband. even your intimate life with him... if there's any left.

explicit content - mdni. ₊˚⊹ ⚝ marriage + parenthood au. cuckquean reader, fem oc, reader is in her 20s, iwaizumi and fem oc in their 30s. angst, lowkey emotional cheating, unprotected sex, humiliation, body comparison. mentions of giving birth, implied postpartum depression and low self-esteem related to physical appearance.

word c. a little over 1,900

the last time i had the pleasure of including iwaizumi hajime (27) in a fic was prob two years ago (maybe more). so thank u so much @mycolorhologram for commissioning me and trusting me with ur idea ♡

“Do you think we should switch to an SUV?” He asks with his finger hovering over the screen of his phone, the crease above his left brow stands out as he frowns down at it—a feature you've learned to become familiar with. “For safety purposes, I mean.”

The laundry machine hums in the background, disturbing the atmosphere of your home while simultaneously joining the white noise machine in your baby’s room. You dismiss his question, which seemingly came out of the blue.

“It’s a big spend.” You shrug it off, not realizing that, in reality, it’s not a random thought. “Maybe in the future.”

A sigh from him is all you get, which prompts you to leave the laundry basket on the floor and step closer. He still hasn’t scrolled past whatever he’s looking at on his phone, so your curiosity wins.

You suddenly wish you hadn’t peeked. 

“Is that Minako?”

Noticing you standing close enough to see his screen, he locks it at the same time he clears his throat. “Uh– Yeah.”

It’s only an Instagram post, that’s the first thing your brain tells you. But your gut knows that him mentioning getting a new car when his ex shows off her brand-new Lexus is not a coincidence.

“I’ll go check on the baby.” He knows your silence is dangerous territory, so he’s quick to flee the scene.

He hasn’t even reached the hall when you speak again, calm as ever, but he can see the cogs turning in your brain.

“She still works at your old job?”

He hesitates for a second, debating between sharing what he really knows and what he’s supposed to know.

“I think so?” His tone is light and dismissive, shrugging it off like it’s nothing. “Last I heard, she was after a promotion. Why?”

The laundry machine stops, its alarm letting you know the cycle is done. You try to ignore it, just like how you’ve been ignoring how boring your marriage has become and how exhausted you always are. It’s only been two months since your baby was born, but it feels like it’s been two years instead. Lately, time moves slow for you, but not fast enough for your husband.

You decide it’s best to drop the subject. 

“No reason.”

—

The clock reads 23:15 when his hand snakes around your waist.

You don’t say anything at first, merely enjoying his embrace as he spoons you close to him. It’s a gesture you’ll always welcome, especially after a long day of mom duty.

A tender kiss is placed at the crown of your head, and you smile, sinking further in his arms. It doesn’t take long for his lips to travel all over the side of your face, his warm breath and presence comforting your tired spirit. But when his hand moves under your shirt, gliding up to the underside of your breast, the comfort switches to uneasiness.

“Haji…” A weak murmur from you is quickly lost in the dark.

His kisses persist, his hand swiftly reaching up to cup the soft flesh and give a squeeze. All you can hear from him are his heavy breaths while he presses you close, his front making contact with your backside at the same time his rough fingers pinch a sensitive nipple. You try to turn around so his hand would lose contact with your breast, but his hold is too firm, and you’re left squirming against what seems to be a wall of concrete.

You think it’s over when he lets go and his hand moves down to your hip bone, staying there idly.

“Finally got you all to myself, mama.” Lust drips over the huskiness in his voice, the sound of clearly being desired making your heart beat faster.

However, as much as you long to hear his words of worship, you just… don’t really feel that excitement anymore. Especially since it’d involve him seeing your postpartum body in too much detail—which also makes it harder to believe his praise.

You swat his hand away—gently, of course. “Not yet.”

He’s not new to this apparent rejection from your part, he has heard it all: ‘I’m tired’, ‘It hurts’, ‘I don’t feel comfortable’. And he’s getting tired of fighting you, his disappointment steadily turning into annoyance as he rolls over with a sigh. 

—

The following night, he doesn't even try.

From your side of the bed, you watch as he goes straight to the bathroom, the door slamming behind him and a minute later the water from the shower starts to run along with echoes of his deep grunts.

Once he gets in bed, your hand settles over his bare chest, a little uncertain. 

“I could’ve helped.” You offer him a soft smile, but he seems genuinely confused. “I mean– giving you a hand?”

It’s awkward and cringe enough to make you wince at your own words. He’s your husband, sex shouldn’t be this awkward when he has seen you birth your child.

His amusement lasts a few seconds before he’s clearing his throat and leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Don’t worry about it.”

That’s when you make your decision.

—

“Are you out of your damn mind?!”

You should’ve seen it coming. 

Hajime is clearly upset, sporting his characteristic scowl and directing it at you once he made sure the door of your bedroom was closed.

What you fail to see is how, in reality, he’s upset at himself. He refuses to admit how much he likes the idea. It’s so, so wrong of him to immediately picture himself with another woman, the ‘what if’s’ playing in his mind effortlessly—he’s disgusted.

“Hear me out, please.” You rush to explain yourself, his troubled gaze making contact with yours.

He nods once. It’s all he can give you right now to acknowledge he’s willing to listen. Doesn’t mean he’s happy about it, though.

“I still don’t feel comfortable after the baby… with my body, I mean.” He’s aware of it, he has seen you drown yourself in his shirts and sweatpants, rejecting every chance to go out, even for a coffee, because you don’t feel your best. “It’s weird to explain, but I think it’s an opportunity for us to bond, to– I don’t know, deepen our trust?”

And you mean it. Giving him the chance to explore his pent-up sexual energy in a controlled and safe environment is something you look forward to. 

He loves you, he truly does. You have not only given him unconditional love for the past few years, but also a child, pouring your heart, body, and soul into nurturing your little one. But he can see what you mean, he’s noticed your skin looking dull, your lack of excitement when it comes to the sexual side of your marriage. Of course he never says anything, it’s not your fault.

And then there’s your libido. Non-existent.

“It sounds insane.” 

You see a bit of the initial resistance fade, and you internally celebrate it.

“You can decide who.” Your tone turns bashful, a little ashamed of what you’re about to admit. “I’ve seen sites, we can browse those together?” 

He hesitates again, looking away before staring back at your hopeful expression. He hates that he’s even entertaining the idea, but he hates it even more that he already knows who he wants.

“I guess...”

—

Seeing your husband kiss his college girlfriend with a passion that should be reserved for you, feels like a punch to the gut—especially when said ex-girlfriend is closer in age to him than you are.

She came in carrying her successful self with confidence, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t affect your own self-esteem. But this isn’t about you or her, this is about him. You can only hope she’s also aware of it.

He parts from her mouth with a soft bite to her bottom lip, your core reacting to the sight of it even as your heart squeezes painfully. His head turns your way and his darkened eyes land on you, it only takes him a few steps to reach you, your back rigid as you stay seated by the couch next to the bed.

“Sit pretty for me, yeah?” His lips meet your temple in a tender and loving kiss, one you’ve gotten countless times as reassurance. “I love you, baby.”

And then he’s back with her.

It all goes too quickly, and you don't know if you should be grateful that he’s just… getting it over with. The sooner it ends, the better. Right? You truly want to enjoy this experience, but she’s not making it easy.

He easily gets her legs up on his shoulders, their eyes on each other as he thrusts in short yet harsh strokes. You can’t hear clearly what they’re saying, relying mostly on where his eyes or hands land on her body.

“Fuck–” curses slip from his mouth effortlessly, and he feels himself throb when his hands circle Minako’s waist perfectly. There’s a look of utter bliss on her, one he’s very familiar with, and takes him back to the intense nights they used to share.

“Mhm… harder, Haji.” His ex drags her nails from his shoulders down to his biceps, the nickname slipping easily and with a familiarity that makes you feel uneasy. “Need it deeper.” 

His heart feels weak the more he watches her take every inch without complaining. For once, after God-knows-how-long, he’s able to suck and bite on a pair of nipples to his heart’s content without worrying about being pushed away. He can move hard and deep, pressing his sensitive tip against the cervix without expecting the woman underneath him to scoot away in discomfort.

It’s a never-ending bliss of having passionate, dirty sex with someone that won’t shy away from his touch. 

Which means, in his lust-clouded mind, that it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you when he pumps her full of his cum, jerking his hips rapidly and causing the excess to seep from around the edges of her slit and down her ass.

“Hajime.” You panic but don’t get up from your seat, “We said–”

“I know, I know.” He grunts, aware of your concern but dismissing it at the same time. In all honesty, he thought he could resist the temptation, but he didn’t. So, what? You didn’t say a thing when he slipped inside without a condom–even after you asked him to. “I couldn’t, okay?”

You immediately fall silent, not knowing what else to say. What do you even say in a moment like this?

Her laughter makes your body go cold. She’s not even looking at you, her eyes set on your husband’s features. 

“Relax, girl. I’m on the pill.” She’s interrupted by his kiss, way too tender for your liking, as he moves her legs down his shoulders, causing his length to slip out of her with a wet pop. His hands swiftly move her so she’s lying on her side, facing you, while he’s behind her. Her eyes finally look at you right as he lifts her leg and guides himself back inside her with a raspy groan, her smirk faltering and eyes rolling back once he sets a languid pace, his mouth latching onto her shoulder. “So we’re gonna do it again, and again, and again.”

And your husband smiles because he knows this is far from done. He hasn’t even made you lick his cum off of her yet.

[frownyalfred]

oh boy that ask you got a few days ago about the angsty cloisbat fuck or die has seized me. thinking about out of his mind clark and bruce who's been doing this for hours now and lois who's watching, and the point at which bruce, still underneath clark, turns his head to lois and tells her calmly that he's going to pass out soon. she cannot attempt to try and redirect clark's attention. he does not revoke his consent even when he's unconscious. she needs to promise him now that she's not going to try and intervene, it won't kill him (even as far gone as clark is he's not going to kill his partner) but knowing he hurt lois would destroy clark. please, she needs to promise, for clark's sake. and lois does because bruce will not bend and bruce nods and lets himself pass out.

Ohhhhhhh my god I’m getting chills. That sounds exactly like something Bruce would do. He would tell Lois because 1) she’s a civilian and it’s his job to protect her regardless of who it’s from and 2) because Clark would kill himself if he ever did this to Lois, even a fraction of it. And he can’t let that happen to his best friend.

This all feeds into Bruce’s own self worth issues too. He can be bruised or hurt by Clark because he doesn’t matter as much as Lois does. That’s how it works. Lois is the dream, the light to reach toward — and Bruce is the grim reality. The bruised, bleeding human who allows Lois to be clean, healthy, and not devastated when she wakes up her husband later and Clark asks her dreamily what happened.