#Or that the motion goes by itself

[l0ganberry]

I just remembered I drew this 2 years ago.......

[bunnyboy-juice]

< 3

[david-box-art]

It took me like 2.5 hours in between fucking up and half unfucking my prep for the cotton I got in a pill bottle, finding out I'm not yet one of those people that can just hand spin a bit and use that as a leader (thats the yellow) and discovering a) this really does need a lot of twist and and b) "medieval style"/twiddling/grasped spinning is *probably* not the best choice for it because of that and I'll need to look into supported style, but i made mt first handspun! It's YARN! Or thread! Depends on where you look! Lol. It's spun! I'm so excited

[demilypyro]

So I've seen a few too many people on twitter talking about The Kiss Scene from the new Scott Pilgrim anime. People saying it's fetishistic and indulgent, people calling it male gazey, etc. And while the kiss itself is certainly a bit exaggerated, I felt like writing a bit about why I disagree, and why context is important, like it always is. But it basically turned into an extended analysis on the metatextual treatment of Roxie Richter. So bear with me. It's a long post.

What really matters about this scene is not the kiss itself, but what precedes it. Not even just the fight scene just before it, but what precedes the whole anime series, really. And that's the Scott Pilgrim comic book, and the live action movie. Because in both, Roxie is a punchline.

She's a joke. Her character starts and ends with "one of the exes is actually a girl, I bet you didn't expect that." Jokes are made about Ramona's latent bisexuality, the movie especially treating it as funny and absurd, and her validity as a romantic interest is entirely written off by Ramona as being "just a phase." There's a fight scene, she's defeated by a man giving her an orgasm which implicitly calls her sexuality into question (come on), and the movie just moves on. It sucks. It really, really sucks.

The comic fares a little better. It never veers into outright homophobia like the movie does, and while the line about Ramona having gone through a phase remains, Roxie actually gets one over on Scott when Ramona briefly gets back with Roxie. But Roxie is still only barely a character. Like all the other evil exes, she's just a stepping stone towards the male protagonist's development. She barely even gets any screentime before she's defeated by Scott's "power of love." But Roxie stands out, since she's the only villain who is queer, or at least had been confirmed queer at that point (hi Todd). In a series that champions multiple gay men in the supporting cast, the single undeniable lesbian in the story is a villain. She's labeled as evil, made fun of, pushed aside in favor of the men, and then discarded. Her screentime was never about her, or her feelings for Ramona. It was about the straight, male protagonist needing to overcome her. And that was Roxie Richter. An unfortunate victim of the 2010s.

Fast forward to current year, and the new anime series is announced. Everybody sits down to watch the new series expecting another retelling of the same story, and.... hang on, that straight male protagonist I mentioned just died in the first episode. And now it's humanizing the villains from the original story. And there's Roxie, introduced alongside the other evil exes in the second episode, and she's being played entirely straight, without a punchline in sight. No jokes are made about her gender, no questions are made of her validity as one of Ramona's romantic interests. The narrative considers her important. In one episode, she already gets more respect than she did in either of the previous iterations of Scott Pilgrim. And this isn't even her focus episode yet... which happens to be the very next one.

The anime series goes to great lengths to flesh out the original story's villains and to have Ramona reconcile with them. And I don't think it's a coincidence that Roxie gets to go first. While Matthew Patel gets his development in episode 2, Roxie is the first to directly confront Ramona, now our main protagonist. This is notable too because it's the only time the exes are encountered out of order. Roxie is supposed to be number 4, but she's first in line, and later on you realize that she's the only one who's out of sequence. She's the one who sets the precedent for the villains being redeemed. She's the most important character for Ramona to reconcile with.

What follows is probably the most extensive, elaborate 1 on 1 fight scene in the whole show. Roxie fights like a wounded animal, her motions are desperate and pained. Ramona can only barely fight back against her onslaught. Different set-pieces fly by at breakneck speed as Roxie relentlessly lays her feelings at Ramona's feet through her attacks and her distraught shouts. And unlike the comic or the movie, Ramona acknowledges them, and sincerely apologizes. And the two end up just laying there, exhausted, reminiscing about when they were together.

Only after this, after all of this, does the kiss scene happen. Roxie has been vindicated, she has reconciled with the person who hurt her, the narrative has deemed that her anger is justified and has redeemed her character. And she gets her victory lap by making the nearest other hot girl question her heterosexuality, sharing a sloppy kiss with her as the music triumphantly crescendos.

It's... a little self-congratulatory, honestly. But it's good. It's redemption for a character who had been mistreated for over a decade. And she punctuates the moment by being very, very gay where everyone can see it, no men anywhere in sight. Because this is her moment. And then she leaves the plot, on her own accord this time, while humming the hampster dance. What a legend. How could anything be wrong with this.

[quotesfrommyreading]

When I’m out with Deaf friends, I put my hearing aid in my purse. It removes any ability to hear, but far more importantly, it removes the ambiguity that often haunts me.

In a restaurant, we point to the menu and gesture with the wait staff. The servers taking the order respond with gestures too. They pantomime “drinks?” and tell us they learned a bit of signs in kindergarten. Looking a little embarrassed, they sign “Rain, rain, go away, come again another day” in the middle of asking our salad dressing choice. We smile and gently redirect them to the menu. My friends are pros at this routine and ordering is easy ― delightful even. The contrast with how it feels to be out with my hearing husband is stunning.

Once my friends and I have ordered, we sign up a storm, talking about everything and shy about nothing. What would be the point? People are staring anyway. Our language is lavish, our faces alive. My friends discuss the food, but for me, the food is unimportant. I’m feasting on the smorgasbord of communication ― the luxury of chatting in a language that I not only understand 100% but that is a pleasure in and of itself. Taking nothing for granted, I bask in it all, and everything goes swimmingly.

Until I accidentally say the word “soup” out loud.

Pointing at the menu, I let the word slip out to the server. And our delightful meal goes straight downhill. Suddenly, the wait staff’s mouths start flapping; the beautiful, reaching, visual parts of their brains go dead, as if switched off.

“Whadda payu dictorom danu?” the server’s mouth seems to say. “Buddica taluca mariney?”

“No, I’m Deaf,” I say. A friend taps the server and, pointing to her coffee, pantomimes milking a cow. But the damage is done. The server has moved to stand next to me and, with laser-focus, looks only at me. Her pen at the ready, her mouth moves like a fish. With stunning speed, the beauty of the previous interactions ― the pantomiming, the pointing, the cooperative taking of our order ― has disappeared. “Duwanaa disser wida coffee anmik? Or widabeeaw fayuh-mow?”

Austin “Awti” Andrews (who’s a child of Deaf adults, often written as CODA) describes a similar situation.

“Everything was going so well,” he says. “The waiter was gesturing, it was terrific. And then I just said one word, and pow!! It’s like a bullet of stupidity shot straight into the waiter’s head,” he explains by signing a bullet in slow motion, zipping through the air and hitting the waiter’s forehead. Powwwww.

Hearing people might be shocked by this, but Deaf people laugh uproariously, cathartically.

“Damn! All I did was say one word!” I say to my friends. “But why do you do that?” they ask, looking at me with consternation and pity. “Why don’t you just turn your voice off, for once and for all?” they say.

Hearing people would probably think I’m the lucky one ― the success story ― because I can talk. But I agree with my friends.

  —  I'm Deaf And I Have 'Perfect' Speech. Here's Why It's Actually A Nightmare.

[koishikei]

since tumblr will only show me the fucking passionfruit ad and literally nothing else despite me reporting it probably 100 times...

i am taking it as a personal attack and that @staff is intentionally trying to drive me off of the site by making it inaccessible to me

[screampied]

❛ THREE’S A CROWD! ❜

↻ feat. satosugu, shiu. toji. nanami. higuruma.

total wc. 2.5k

warnings. fem! reader, 3somes, double penetration, praise kink, choking, toji’s (still) broke, degradation, unprotected s*x, spanking, oral, manhandling, riding higuruma’s nose, hair pulling.

☆ GOJO & GETO.

“…suguru, ‘s no fairrr,” gojo groans. a soft pout tugs against his lips as he watches him have his way with you—you’re happily on your knees, taking geto into your mouth and gojo’s so jealous. it took everything within him to not stroke himself. you however, you looked so pretty. your head bobbles up and down, glistening sheeny strings of your own saliva racing down your chin and geto gives you a rough head pat. “i don’t wanna watch. i wanna fuck her too.”

“then get over here, idiot.” geto grunts, bringing a thumb towards the bottom of your chin. the eye contact the both of you made was forever intimate and sensual. dark pools of eyes stared you down to where you’re pulsing between your plush thighs.

gojo drags his feet towards the two of you before prying you off of geto’s dick, only to then sprawl you on the cushioned mattress. “gimme some attention too. not this bozo.”

“satoru, please be serious. you can barely even last five minutes.”

you sneak out a giggle and gojo grows hot, entirely flustered. he turns you over to where you’re propped up on your stomach and he gives his best friend an aggravated glare, “s-shut up.”

“make me.” geto raises a brow. these two…

“careful with him, pretty girl. poor guy’s super sensitive down there.” geto chuckles, glancing down at you as you faced away, back perfectly arched for him.

gojo’s in front of you—you’re eagerly leaning in to slide your tongue playfully against his fat swollen tip, smothered with droplets of precum.

gojo lets off a moan, hesitatingly bringing a hand towards the crown of your head whilst geto realigns himself again.

“hey, jus’ ignore him,” he clears his throat, making you dart your eyes all back up at him. “he’s always tryin' to p-piss me off,” he nervously chuckles, taking a moment to swallow. “f-fuck, you really do have a good tongue, princess.”

with fluttering eyes, you swirled the tip of your tongue against the very frenulum part of his dick. his most sensitive spot. now that snatched a whine from his throat.

“see,” geto snickers, and that’s when you suppress an incoming moan, feeling geto’s stocky fingers ghost against your waist. he’s halfway in and he’s so thick, inches after inches your mouth opened and parted just from his size. “he’s a big crybaby.”

the two of them bickered so much, even as a intimate moment such as this. by all means it was annoying, yet you were getting your throat and pussy stretched so who exactly were you to complain..

“suguru, f-fuckkk.” you’d whimper out, moving closer towards gojo to run your tongue does his length, near his base. yet that’s when you gradually take him down your throat. he’s so warm inside your throat, you felt the curve he had that thoroughly presented itself to the roof of your mouth.

geto moves some strands away from his hair before gripping tight against your waist. with a swift lick of his lips, he slants his hips forward and the thrusts he started to present to you, you had no words.

“keep looking at me,” gojo huffs out in short breaths, your eyes flicker up at him and you reach down to play with yourself only before geto smacks your hand and you whine.

in the interim, gojo’s hand lies against the top of your forehead. he’s attempting to guide your throat, and you’re such a messy girl, saliva pouring all out the very sides of your mouth.

“goddamnn, you’re filthy for us both aren’t you? can’t even be a clean girl, all that spit running down your chin…just wanna kiss that mess right off you.”

you moan, staring as gojo starts to lightly move his hips into your mouth in a almost rotation motion. your nails dig into his thighs and your head just goes up and down. your lips wrap gently around your teeth to get comfortable — all while geto was driving such a ravenous speed.

your tongue was having a mind of its own, being versatile with how it’s all rigid and solid against gojo’s dick. you’re creating the perfect amount of pleasure to elicit sweet whimpers from the man’s throat, you were no match for geto’s sloppy hits against your pussy however.

“good girl, mouth ‘n pussy being all occupied,” geto utters, maintaining a reasonable pace for you. he had too because of his length, so thick it had your eyes wandering, casually rolling back with your lips parting. “let's see how quick you can make ‘toru cum.”

your eyes trail back up towards gojo, and he’s so pretty, white eyebrows furrowed and tugged tightly together.

you took down his shaft, running your tongue against his tip while having one hand to stroke him and he whines. “f-fuck, you guys are just tryin' to…tryin' to make me cum first,” he swallows, a hand still tugged onto your hair. “you’re so…fuckkk,” he groans, starting to thrust his hips once more against you. “keep takin' me down s-so deep, ‘n i’m gonna cum all down your pretty throat. you want that?”

a subtle needy head non was your answer, and you moaned once geto smacks your ass. still taking him, strings of your own saliva went down your lips and coated all over your chest.

“course ya do, nasty girl.” he huffs out a shaky breath. his lip quavers and with such ease, you wind up making gojo cum—you lap up your tongue against his throbbing cock head, and he’s spasming. gojo’s moans were so cute, melodic and all like a harmony.

geto’s still buried into you. your walls clamped and hugged him securely like a vice. he’s got a tight grip on the back your shirt so you’re vigorously slamming back against him repeatedly. “told ya, look how good you made him feel. can’t even say anything, cute.”

“hate you both,” gojo pouts, his voice was shaky. yet he's then dragging a thumb down your chin to wipe some remains of his own cum from your mouth. “not you though… ‘m not done with you.”

☆ SHIU & TOJI.

with these two, they’d be so mean. toji was already a straight asshole but with a stern shiu kong….you’d be in for a ride.

“think she wants us both,” shiu says, tilting his head with a cunning smile, a slim cigarette sticking from the corner of his mouth. you laid reclined on the mattress, still trying to catch your breath that was continuously unsteady and jagged. it was toji’s fault, he’d just got done eating you out for a good long thirty minutes, you were sure your legs were as good as dead—yet you wanted more.

“use those words, babygirl,” toji murmurs in a gruff tone, he tilts your chin to face him and you’re so dumb, giving him a needy stare. “yeah? don’t be shy.”

you let off a moan before speaking, shiu removes the cigarette from his mouth before planting a soft kiss near the corner of your neck. you sucked in a sharp breath before uttering, “i…i want you both. at the same time.”

“oh?” they both say in uncanny unison. toji cocks his head to the right before easily manhandling you to get towards his lap, like you were a rag doll of some sort. “big fuckin’ girl. think she can take two. can barely take one but okay...”

toji’s sass made you wanna smack him, he laid back and realigned himself. you’re facing him and he’s got such a smug grin on his lips. “shiu be a good boy f’me and take her from behind while i get her from here.”

shiu rolls his eyes at the comment, and he does. you brace yourself, placing two hands on toji’s rock hard bare chest. he was so thick, an electrifying thrill rushed into you, and his cocky stare didn’t help things.

“f-fuckkk,” you sibilated, and he grabs ahold to your hips. your body grows hot and feverish each second you took to steadily sink down onto his dick.

“leave some room for me too, sweets,” shiu whispers, shuddering from him running a finger down your spine. you gnaw the inside of your cheek as shiu starts to make his way in also. if you didn’t feel full to the brim. you certainly did now. the stretch had your mind short-circuiting. “fuck, the way you just suck me ‘n toji in. pussy made just for us, huh.”

toji groans, bringing a mean smack to your ass. “better start moving, girl. don’t have all day.”

you start to move, and the pure feeling of being stuffed of not one but two cocks…

you couldn’t fathom your thought process. by this point, it was practically nonexistant. of course, you found yourself starting to drool the more they felt you cutely try to oscillate and roll your hips against them.

toji grins, you feel yourself growing hot from the way he’s just casually staring at you with that dumb, coy smile plastered on his lips. “what’s with the look baby? you want a kiss or somethin'?”

“y-yeah,” you whined, leaning into his touch and he chuckles, fingers of his going around your throat softly before dragging you closer towards him.

“come here girl..” he rasps, the smirk that stuck against his lips never left. you moaned right into toji’s mouth — feeling the residue of rich alcohol on his tongue, along with the sweet candied flavor of your own slick smothered all over his lips. your pussy was being crowded with each of them inside, deep strokes and thrusts to where you’re convulsing supremely.

a grunt runs past his lips before he ghosts his tongue against yours. you felt the scratched scar that ran across his lip, giving it a brief kiss. a good grip on your neck and once he pulls away, he has you gasping for air.

shiu groans, keeping your hips in place with two rough hands. the cold metal of his rich watch band grazed against your skin and it makes you let off a sexy perfect back arch. “sensitive everywhere, aren’t you, gorgeous? how cute..”

you don’t last long, because only a few long minutes later did you end up cumming again. saying you were out of breath was purely an understatement.

pant after pant, such sweet whines got ripped out of you before out of nowhere you hear wood split. it was loud, an abrupt screeching sound before the box spring sinks inward. the entire motion causes all three of you to nearly collapse.

“did the bed just b-break?” you moaned, stammering over your words, and feeling shiu’s warm cum pour right down your slit and right onto toji’s hefty well-trimmed base.

“seems like,” shiu pulls his brows together, and you whimper once he pulls out—you’re not used to him being plugged in, stuffing you thick and you end up plopping down on toji’s broad scarred chest. “don’t worry your pretty little head, toji’s got the money covered for your bed,” and you let off a relaxed sigh, feeling shiu massage your back before he snickers at toji with a dramatic pause. “oh right…you’re broke.”

☆ HIGURUMA & NANAMI.

these two men would have you in a figurative chokehold.

you’d be sat on top of higuruma, cutely hovering over his face. you suck your teeth, meanwhile, nanami’s standing over the both of you. your lips parts and a long pool of spit runs down your chin as you’re not only taking nanami but riding higuruma’s face.

“you’re so pretty like this,” nanami grunts. he’s so gentle and sweet with his touch.

you cry out a whimper once you feel higuruma’s tongue suck against your folds dry. he was so sloppy with his tongue, a good unyielding pressure on your hips.

as your hips bucked against his face, you breathed through your nose. carefully not using any teeth, you skim your tongue down his shaft before he bites his lip, a hand resting on the top of your head. for a brief second, you gag and nanami sighs out a groan. “easy, sweetheart. relax your throat, yeahh. like that.”

nanami bites his lip, feeling you encircle a plethora of shapes on his tip with your tongue. yet your muffled moans continued to escape past your sheeny lips.

your pussy was being devoured, higuruma’s lashes closed as your hips stuttered against his tongue.

he slurped and slurped, flicking against your nub to make your brain effortlessly haywire in such desire. the way his tongue dances alongside your clit.

it’s spewing all down his chin—you grind against his face once more before you whimper out a sweetened moan. higuruma’s hooked nose prods against your cunt and you’re just stuck in a trace.

“she likes riding against your nose, hiromi.” nanami breathes, moving a few strands from your face.

“ah, i bet she does,” he breaks away abruptly, watching a cobweb of his own saliva trickle and depart from your throbbing cunt. you’ve got him addicted, he laps his tongue before rubbing the tip of his nose against your folds just to see you whimper. “it’s reserved just for her. right angel?”

you nod, throat still full of nanami’s hardened cock—you felt a vein run down the side of his shaft, and he groans with his eyes indolently rolling back in pleasure.

“damn,” he hisses, the way his neck swiftly thrown itself back, it was attractive. his adam’s apple that poked through. nanami tugs on his tie roughly as if the room was hot, before letting off a low sigh. he grabs your chin to make you stare right at him, “what are we gonna do with you..”

as you continued to rut and maneuver your hips against higuruma’s face, nails dug into the thick thighs of nanami. you flicker your lashes up at nanami, feeling him pulse.

with a tap tap tap you heard him tapping his foot against the slick floor. he was about to release all in your mouth.…you knew it and so did he.

“get a little more comfortable for me, baby,” higuruma purrs, slowly sticking out his tongue to lick between your folds. you shudder at the lewd feeling of his tongue creating a curve all throughout the insides of your entrance. “that’s it. don’t move, don’t hover… just park your pussy on my mouth. good girl,” and he lets off a low grunt. “don’t know how fuckin’ starving i am..”

you break your mouth away from nanami’s shaft, rolling your tongue against yours lips once he finishes and he strokes your cheek lovingly, trying to hide his flustered state.

“…good girl,” he pants before tapping a finger against your temple. “stick out your tongue and show me.”

nanami watches as you obliged, lolling out your tongue for him before you moan. he towers over you, grabbing ahold of his length with one hand before smacking his tip against your tongue and you giggle, reaching a hand down to play with higuruma’s hair. “you little…that tongue’s dangerous.”

[moonlight1110]

Needy bf!Simon Coming Home from Deployment

Bf!Simon x Reader thoughts bc it's been a hot min since I last posted :')

Tags: afab!reader, smut, NSFW, far from canon Simon, not proofread, no reader dialogue, quick read

Notes: just thought I'd try to post something small, I can't for the life of me come up with a solid plot for a fic TT but I hope y'all enjoy these little drabbles

Bf!Simon is always rather quiet the first few days of being home from deployment. He needs his relaxation after a long few months of being away and needs that time to reacquaint himself with the home you two share.

He will eat dinner with you, chat and help with the chores but he goes straight to bed when he's done, quickly falling asleep even before you could get the chance to say goodnight or cuddle.

The first few days are always a bit of a rollercoaster, but you're used to it at this point, and he appreciates that even though he doesn't voice it out.

One night though, when you joined him in bed after a quick shower to freshen up, he wasn't asleep like he was the past few days after coming home, this was made evident when you had suddenly felt his strong arms wrap around your midsection, his chest pressed against your back as he held you close.

"Love..." He mumbled, his hot breath fanning over your nape as he began to press gentle kisses against your skin, his hands slowly roaming over your clothed body, splaying over your belly as he pressed himself closer.

"Missed you so much..." He mumbled, his voice low and gravelly all the while gently trailing his hand lower, caressing the soft skin of your thighs as his hand travelled beneath the silk fabric of your nightgown.

He was driven by the way you gasped and whimpered from his touch, his lips ever so gentle as his kisses trailed to your shoulders, taking the strap of your nightgown between his teeth as he gently pulled it down, leaving your skin exposed.

Simon wasted no time, not in any mood to tease. All he wanted to do was feel you against him, feel your skin against his own and claim you again. He was a man starved, though he didn't outwardly show it.

"M'sorry... That I haven't been loving you the way you deserve, pretty girl... Just needed some time to rest..." He explained, his words muffled slightly as he pressed kisses on your skin, whispering promises of pleasure and praise in your ear.

He gently cupped your mound beneath the nightgown, earning him a gasp from your lips which made him groan in satisfaction as he gently rubbed his fingers over your clothed pussy, feeling your heat even through the fabric.

His free hand trailed up until he reached the top of your nightgown, pulling it down to free your breasts. He wasted no time in cupping one in his hand, humming in satisfaction as he felt the weight of the plump breast in his palm.

"Beautiful..." He whispered, his breath against your ear as he gently rolled your sensitive nipple beneath his thumb, pinching it and caressing it with a gentleness he always had with you.

Meanwhile, his other hand lowered itself, sliding past the waistband of your underwear, his fingers immediately finding your clit and rolling it between his middle and ring finger, coating them with your slick.

"Can't fuck you the way y'need tonight, baby... But I promise I'll make it up to you..." He whispered against the shell of your ear, his hands working in tandem to bring you pleasure with slow and languid motions, his rough hands adding a layer of pleasurable texture against your sensitive clit.

The hand that was on your breast had moved lower, gently lifting your leg up to allow for more access as his fingers teased at your entrance, swirling around the throbbing muscles.

"Gonna take care of you, baby... You're so gorgeous like this... All mine..." He promised, his words quiet and rough against your skin as he slowly pushed two fingers inside your aching pussy. The feeling made you groan, toes curling at how unfamiliar they felt from being away from him for so long.

"That's it, pretty girl... Just relax and let me in... Missed this pretty pussy, baby... Missed being inside you..." He whispered, planting gentle kisses all across your skin as he began to stretch you open on his fingers, spreading your walls slowly to prepare you.

You could feel his growing bulge behind you, pressing against your ass as he fucked you on his fingers but you knew he'd be saving it for when he was ready enough to fuck you properly, for now, he was focused on using his fingers.

"Good girl... Taking my fingers so fucking good... Need to stretch you open before I fuck you tomorrow, baby... I promise I'll make you feel like I never left..."

[thewritetofreespeech]

A Gift from Madam Sylvi

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond wants to be a good husband. So he goes to the only person he can trust for education on the topic.

tags: heterosexual sex, cunnilingus (f!oral), readers first time for that, antiquated medieval views on sex & relationship styles, platonic Sylvi/Aemond relationship, he's a good man savannah

words: 2.4K

Ao3

-------------------------------⚔️-------------------------------

“I want to make her happy.”

Aemond rested with his head on Sylvi’s breast. The madam’s fingers combing through his long silver tresses. Lulling him to just the borderline of sleep, and this heart felt confession.

“Your lady wife?” He hummed in acknowledgement. His marriage to the lady had been recent and tactical. It was a marriage for allies, not love. Still, his chosen spouse was a much better candidate than that moon eyed doe from the braying buck they had originally tried to bind him too. His now wife was much prettier, sharper, sweeter. She didn’t seem afraid of him, although cautious like any two people amongst strangers. They were trying to get to know each other. But with a war going on there was not much time for long strolls or quite evenings of conversation. Or whatever it was that newlyweds did.

“Well, I think, the fact that you want to make her happy is an excellent start your grace.” Sylvi told him. “Most women don’t even get that much effort in a lifetime.”

“I do not want an ‘effort’. I want to do it.” Aemond had always been a man of results. She should know that by now.

He curled further down to rest his head in her lap now. Fully clothed, and him with his breeches still on. Since his marriage, his visit to the Street of Silk had been infrequent and always like this. He felt…wrong laying with another woman when he had a sweet wife at home in his chambers waiting for him. Aemond wasn’t sure how his brother or other men did it. How cheap was their cost of loyalty if it could be swayed with just a little cunny?

No, he came to Sylvi for something else. Comfort. And advice. He certainly couldn’t ask anyone else on how to be a good husband. His brother would laugh at him, and also was probably only a good candidate on what to not do as a husband. His mother would tell him something about duty. Criston hadn’t and couldn’t take a wife. So, who was he to ask, except the woman who traded in love for a living?

“Well, listening to them helps. Finding out what they like. What they don’t like.” The madam’s fingers in the prince’s hair stop. “Your grace…do you mean to make your wife happy…entirely.” The prince’s long body curled up further into itself. Small as it would go. “Is that what this is about then? You want to make her happy that way.”

“I don’t think she likes it.”

Sylvi chuckled softly. “Most first timers do not. I’m sure you were gentle with her. You were always gentle with me.” Her hands resume stroking his hair. “But you’re worried she won’t like you if she doesn’t like it.” He doesn’t answer, but his shoulders make some manner of motion next to her knee stating the affirmative.

“Does she say no when you ask her?”

Aemond shook his head.

“Does she fight you?”

Aemond shook his head again.

“Why do you think she doesn’t like it?”

He paused, then finally answered. “She does not make the noises like they do.” ‘They’ being Sylvi’s girls. ‘The noises’ being the faint orchestra of pleasure heard just outside the curtain and over the music.

The madam laughed. “Yes, well, they are paid to make the noises, my prince. Just because a woman makes those noises does not always mean she is truly feeling them.” Aemond’s head turned up towards her. His good eye glittering daggers up at her as much as his sapphire. Clearly contemplating if all his sexual experiences in the past had also been a lie for coin. “But that does not mean you can’t make them real.” Sylvi added quickly. “A woman’s body and pleasure is more complex than that of a man. It takes a skilled hand and sharp mind to master it properly.”

The prince sat up from her lap. Sylvi’s heartbeat quickened as she wondered if perhaps her gambit to his ego hadn’t worked and she had suddenly, finally, crossed the line with him. “Show me.”

The fire hearth crackled a sweet tune in the background as you read for a bit before bed. A gift from Aemond.

You had been cautious in telling him you enjoyed reading, as not all men & lords liked their women educated, but he had taken the news quite well. Or you assumed well, as you were not beaten and instead presented with books.

Your new husband was much harder to read than these books, however. He was an enigma. Besides not being able to read his facial expression like most, due to his eye patch and also the fact that he hardly had any tell at all, he wasn’t the best conversationalist. You carried most of them between you, but the parts you could glean from what he offered back was that he was very smart, very dedicated, and that he liked apples. You made sure to have them in your shared quarters now at all times.

You wanted to be a good wife for your husband. It was all your life had been leading up to. As a lady, your duty was to marry well, give your husband children, and serve his house well with your talents for the next generation to past the torch. You never imagined that torch might be one made of dragon fire. Nor that the children you raised might be the crown jewel of the realm.

Your head perked up and your book closed when you heard the door open, and the sound of heavy boots follow in. You stand up to greet your husband, knowing it was him before you turned around and saw him. “Hello husband. Did you have a pleasant evening?”

He hummed in acknowledgement of your question. You do not ask where he has been. “Have you eaten?”

“I did.” You told him. “I had dinner with your mother.” The dowager queen seemed committed to making you feel welcome since your arrival and marriage. Perhaps it was because she was fond of you. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that she remembered what it was like to be a young woman alone in a strange place. In any event, you were glad for her company. “But if you haven’t eaten, I can call for something and sit with you?” Though you appreciated the former queen’s company, you suddenly wondered if you were supposed to wait for your husband.

Aemond shook his head. Then reached out to cup your cheek and leaned in for a kiss. His lips were cool from being outside, but quickly warm against yours. You moan a little. Still a bit shy in kissing a man when it had been forbidden to you for a long time, but unable to deny that you found great pleasure in Aemond. “I am not hungry for food.”

Your cheeks flush. Your eyes cascade down shyly. But you cannot help the smile that pursed against your lips. “Alright. Shall I call my maid to get me ready for bed?”

“I think I can manage.”

He took your hand and led you from the sitting room into the inner chambers of your bedroom. The torches unlit. Aemond preferred it that way as he liked to sleep in complete dark. The moonlight flickering through the curtains your only guide.

He does more than manage as he was able to get you out of your lacings and ties rather quickly. The fragile garment pieces are no match for those nimble fingers trained for years to peak dexterity. “Lay on the bed.” He told you. You were a little confused, as that was your intention, but you realized he meant on top of the bed. So, you did just that.

Feeling a little exposed, you watch Aemond undress as well; then feeling a little embarrassed at ogling but then realized if there was anyone you should ogle it was your husband. He climbed onto the bed and on top of you once he was naked. Your legs spread open for him. To give him space and access. You were familiar with this part by now, so knew the part you were expected to play by heart. But you were surprised when Aemond’s lips left from kissing you to down your neck, over your breasts, down your stomach…. “What are you doing?”

The prince stopped to look up at you. His chin hovering over your navel. “Just trust me.”

You did trust him. However, this was not how you were instructed on how love making was supposed to go. How was he to give you children when his thing was all the way down there? You were suddenly a little nervous, remembering some of the stories, not fit for virgin ears that had still made their way to you, of husbands who humiliated their wives in all manner of ways in the bedroom. You didn’t think Aemond would that too you, but you hadn’t known each other that long. Still, you lay prone and let him go on with whatever he was doing.

His kisses continue. Down your stomach to the seam where it met your maidenhood. Your whole body flushed when he kissed your mound. Squirming at the feel of hot breath on your most sensitive parts. This was….odd. This was wrong.

Aemond seemed to sense your distress and held your legs still & open for him. He looked up your body at you, not saying anything, before he dipped his head down again and licked at your center. A jolt shot through your body, and you could see now why he was holding you. It felt odd. Wrong. His tongue brushed against you again and this time it tickled. A giggle bubble out of your mouth at the feeling before you tried to squirm out from under him again, before the ticklish feeling gave way to something more.

Your body felt warm as his tongue continued to lap at your core. As if his tongue were actual tongues of fire, licking white hot heat in little pin pricks and cracks of flame over your skin. “A-Aemond..s-stop…this isn’t…this isn’t….hn!” Your back bent unbeckoned as his tongue slithered inside you. Where his cock should be. That was the only suitable thing that was supposed to be inside you. Or at least that was what you were taught.

You began to pant as Aemond’s tongue lashing continued. Coiling inside you. Slinking back out to tease just your entrance. Toying with your nub like it was a marble or piece of hard candy in his mouth.

Your fists grip the fine bedding under you. White knuckled to match the white-hot heat inside of you. “A-Aemond….Aemond stop! S-Something is happening…!” Something felt like it was building inside you. It felt similar to the feeling of you were about to fall, and you were scared that you were going to fall off the bed, or fall through it, or…something! You didn’t know what was going to happen but you knew it was going to happen if Aemond kept going.

“Aemond please…please….mmmhm…I can’t…I’m scared…Aemond I….Aemond!”

The feeling of falling consumes you. Your body still while your mind tumbled through the darkness to a bright white light before landing in stars. When it fell back into your head, in the space fit for it in your body, your limbs felt heavy and weak. Your mind supple. What just happened?

The prince lifted from his position between your legs. Politely closed them for you. Then came to the head of the bed to lay beside you amongst the pillows. His hand wiping at his mouth along the way. “What was that?”

“A gift for you.” His eye watched you. Looking at you in a way as if for some kind of tell. “Did you not like it?”

“No. I mean….yes. I don’t know…” The experience had left your world much changed. You didn’t like it at first, but you didn’t not like it. You were confused yet enamored and still a bit tingly all over. “Where did you learn that from?”

“A friend.” That was his only answer, before he reached out and touched your cheek.

You know enough about men to not ask where they get their sordid information from. Men liked to pretend they didn’t gossip as much as ladies, but that wasn’t true. Instead, you just coiled your cheek into his hand affectionately and turned to face him side-by-side. “Shall we…I mean…did you want to…the regular way?”

“Hmm…not tonight.”

He leaned in and kissed the top of your forehead. You were surprised. You thought all men wanted to lay with their women once the sun went down. But perhaps that was another assumption you had been told. You could feel Aemond’s persistence against your thigh, however, when he wrapped himself around you under the covers. You asked him again, but again he said not tonight and seemed to fall asleep behind you not long after that.

You stayed awake a little longer. Focused on making out the cracks in the stone through the dark as your mind was reeling. Trying to make sense of what happened.

On the one hand it had been…wonderful. Confusing to be sure, but now that the shock was wearing off you realized how incredible of a feeling it had been. But why didn’t Aemond want anything in return? Why give you a ‘gift’ if he didn’t want anything in return? When he didn’t have to give you anything in the first place? You were his wife. It was your wifely duty to lie with your husband. And it wasn’t as if it was a chore like other ladies described. Did he not find you satisfactory? Surely not. Otherwise, why give you a ‘gift’?

Your mind kept reeling, until eventually the carousel in your mind slowed down as it refocused not on the stone but the breathing at your back, and you eventually fell asleep. Perhaps it was just best not to question a gift when offered. You were just happy you had a husband who was interested in making you happy. Most women don’t even get that much effort in a lifetime.

[vivvangel]

fantasize | sim jake (extended ver.)

synopsis: nerd jake who's known to be quite self reserved, but he cannot seem to get you and your skirt out of his mind. › pairings & contents: nerd!jake x classmate reader, dom!jake x sub!afab!reader. smut with plot ✧ warnings: kissing and teasing!! - perverted thoughts, jealousy, fist-fucking (jake), blowjob, doggy position, guided mastrubation, jake has a thing for skirts, heavy degradation.

can be read by itself, however, reading the headcannons is advised !

wc: 1.5k

ever since he jerked off to the imagination of fucking you in that pretty skirt — jake thinks he's lost his mind. jerking off so often, getting horny so often, that wasn't his thing before, but you absolutely ruined his brain wearing that skirt.

"ah, fuck" he hisses, rubbing his tip. every time he closes his eyes and strokes his cock just a little faster, jake can't help but fantasize about the ways you probably would swallow all of his cum, maybe even whimper his name,, how your pussy would be throbbing, dripping wet for him only. he didn't even know he could crave someone so much, so desperately, so fucking desperately.

with his swift hip movements, jake continues to thrust his cock into his tight fist, in desperate hopes of recreating the sweet tightness of your perfect cunt. he was mentally cursing at myself for fucking his fist so many times at just the mere sight of you, but nonetheless, he tightens his grasp around his cock to mimic the tightness of your, what he imagined to be your perfect pussy, his head falls against the bed's headboard of his bed, as literal shocks of warm satisfaction blurred his peripheral vision — "f-fuck", jake grunts, letting his eyes roll back.

this can't be this way. he has to have you, one way or another. he scoffs, thinking to himself that this is completely ridiculous. why would someone like you even look at someone like ... him? he brushes his thoughts off, and goes to his desk to finish some assignments off.

the day after went as bad as it could. he was sitting in his usual place, a row or two behind you, and what does he see? he glares at the guy next to you, with his arm around your shoulder. he wants to approach the guy in question, and do something he would regret. he groans to himself, and as the lecture continues, he grows more and more restless, and if it was even possible, even more jealous. once the lecture finally ends, he's the first to get out of the room, and to his other class. that night, jake didn't get off to you, resulting in him being extremely, ungodly, horny the next day.

he can't bring himself to approach you, knowing you might have a boyfriend, but he gets over his nervousness and goes up to you — and holy shit, you're wearing a short skirt again. "hey, uh y/n -- do you have-" he pauses, his eyes travelling down to your legs and thighs, but he looks back at you. "uh, yesterday's notes?", you tilt your head, as a smirk spreads on your lips, but you play dumb to his sudden question, you nod. "you could've just texted me, jake", you softly say, taking out your notebook out of your bag. he has no idea how he's keeping his cool, but you know his name? oh fucking hell. "u-uh, i could've but, i don't have your number" he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, making you chuckle. "give me your phone, i'll put it in if you need me next time" you smile, giving him your notebook. jake almost hurriedly takes his phone out, motioning it to you and letting out a dry chuckle, "t-thanks" god, he felt fucking stupid. how did you have him stumbling over his words? little did he know, you thought he was so fucking cute.

you grab his phone from him, putting your number in, saving the contact as "y/n baby💋" and when jake reads that, his eyes widen. "y/n baby?" he hesitantly asks, "yes?" you respond, the smirk never left your face, and his jaw drops. "no, i meant --" he's unsure of what to say, he's literally flabbergasted. you let out a chuckle, "i'm messing with you, i get it" — "don't you have a boyfriend, though?" he abruptly asks, his tone almost coming off as protective. "me? what?, no" you tell him, completely confused as to how he came to that conclusion. "the guy, yesterday, arm around your shoulder and all-"

"you were watching me yesterday, too?"

"that's not what i asked"

"so, you were watching me yesterday, too"

"for god's sake, y/n — wait, what do you mean 'too'"

you stand up, crossing your arms. "do you think i don't see you staring at me, jakey?" you smirk, and he's trying to form a coherent sentence. "i'm not-- 'm not staring, just.." he trails off, unsure how to end that sentence. you break the silence, "jake, i have another class in a bit, i'll see you later today? i'll text you! bye?" you wave, rushing out of the room to get to your class. all while jake stood there, dumbfounded.

jake has no idea how he was in deep inside you and you on the other hand, had no idea how someone that cute could be this hot. you felt almost stupid for thinking he'd be the submissive type. boy, were you so so wrong. you didn't know that that a mere skirt, and some teasing was all it took jake to smash his lips onto yours, and pulling you onto his lap — in his dorm, may i add. you were flustered, how could someone who looked so innocent be so . . . sexy?

and what exactly followed afterwards?

his hands explored your body under your crop-top, and you couldn't help but let out a moan into his mouth, in the heat of the moment, riling him up further. he pulls out of the kiss, slapping your thigh, making you whimper. "what a fucking slut, do you just let anyone touch you, huh?" you shake your head, signalling a no — you expected him to be nicer with your response, but you earn another slap on your exposed thigh. (you think to yourself, "maybe wearing a skirt is useful after al"l)

"wear skirts these days intentionally, don't you? you like the attention you get? what a desperate slut" he scoffs, resulting in you biting your lip. how was he degrading you so bad, but you liked it? "j-jakey.. please do something, anything" you breathe out, and he lets out a dry, almost dark, chuckle. "anything? mhm, you'll take anything i give you like the good girl you are, right baby?" you nod your head, feeling your panties drenching by the second. "hmm, 'm not gonna let you off so easily, earn it, slut" — your eyes widen,, "are you okay with this, pretty?" he asks, his tone coming off more kind and soft, it's almost like a whisper. "treat me like the slut i am, jakey" — "is that so?"

you don't understand why, but his voice makes your core keep tingling. you choke over your own words, making jake smirk. "on your knees, pretty girl" he demands, and you reciprocate immediately, getting on your knees on the floor, as jake slouches on the couch, you can see his raging boner under his sweatpants — and holy shit. your hands hurried pull down his pants, quietly gasping at his length, making him smirk. "too big for your pretty little mouth, mhm? too bad, baby". you wrap your hand around his cock, jake's own hand enveloping yours, "fuck slut, cmon, it's all yours" he uses your hand to stroke himself up and down, jerking himself off while you look up at him with glazed eyes. "f-fuck baby, your hand feels so good, mind letting me how your pretty mouth feels?"

you would never ever deny, wrapping your lips around his cock, your tongue eagerly licking and teasing his cock, making him grunt. "d-don't tease, baby". jake suddenly felt your lips sliding up and down the head of his length, feeling his cock hit the back of your neck. jake groans when you take him deeper, and deeper into your mouth. he brushes a strand of hair out of your face, his hands then going to the back of your head, holding you as he starts thrusting his hips unintentionally. you almost gag, but you control it. as jake pushes his dick down your throat for one last time, he lets go. his cum filling your mouth, and dripping down your chin, "fucking hell, baby. you look so pretty my baby" he says, picking you up. you'd think as a nerd, jake wouldn't have time to work out, but you were so wrong. he was rather . . . strong, to your surprise.

taking you to his bedroom, he wastes no time. "i'm asking just to be sure, though you're clearly more than ready, but-- can i do this, baby? fill your cunt to the brim, baby?" he asks softly, putting you down on his bed. "please, jakey, please..." is all you could say, and that's all it took him to undress you, not taking your skirt off, you tug at your skirt, but he puts your hand away. "what?"

"want the skirt on" he simply answers,

"you have a thing for skirts?"

"just on you, i guess" he awkwardly chuckles.

"should wear them more often"

"that-- that, you should"

he kisses you, "day dreamt about this, baby, got off to the thought of you so many times" he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "on your stomach for me, please, pretty?"

what can he say? he can't get over the thought of fucking you in a skirt

and, let's just say, assignment completed !

viv's note 💌: thank you for waiting so patiently for this, lovies. hope yall like it. and before u complain about the ending!!! i wanna give you guys a separate smut drabble of that instead of having it here! hope you all aren't disappointed:/ love u guys sm<3

taglist: @strayy-kidz @raelyaa @myspamera @spabrin @ikaw-at-ikaw @kenzory @yaatrickyaaa @nakedsim @heelvsted @isa-2007 @keepingupwithjaeyun @jellyporo @woooooya @sussyjake @jaeyunology @maryismad @maoyueze tagged some of my moots too ♡

[lilisettean]

Hot Steam | Xavier/Reader

About: What started as a nice soak in the hot springs with Xavier turned into something more...

Pairing: Xavier/Reader

Notes: I don't have the memory Kind Words for Xavier itself so idk what goes on in that scene but the art itself made me go . I need him I need to write him and mc in the hot springs.

AO3: Read here!

Warnings: Age 18+ only please. Enjoy :)

“This was not what I had in mind when you told me to come sit closer.”

You said, doing your best to look him in the eye and not let your eyes wander down further. But he did not extend the same courtesy to you.

“Then what did you have in mind?” Xavier asked as he toyed with the towel that was stubbornly wrapped around your body. He had complained about you sitting too far away from him while in the hot spring beforehand and caught you off guard when you scooted closer, grabbing and lifting you by the waist and then plopping you down onto his lap. While you didn’t mind the closeness of it all, something about being skin to skin and almost naked made you feel… exposed.

It didn’t help that his hand was still on your waist, resting at the small of your back. How easy would it for him to slide his hand down further and slip it under the flimsy towel–

A sudden kiss to your bare shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. He was staring up at you, his eyes dark and intense. He didn’t care your breasts were pressed against him, the towel shielding your form from him barely holding on. 

Or maybe he did care, since you could suddenly feel something poking at your thigh.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, his expression unchanging despite knowing you could feel his growing problem under you.

“What do you think?” You retorted as calmly as possible. You thought it was impossible to feel yourself grow even hotter, being in a hot spring and all. But you did, his touch planting seeds of desire under your skin. Especially when he hooked his fingers onto the hem of your towel.

You nodded when he looked toward you for permission. And with one smooth motion, the fabric that protected you from the world, from his dark, predatory gaze, fell around you and sunk into the hot spring. 

The soft sigh he let out then broke the peaceful silence of the hot spring, his hot breath fanning your exposed breast. Lifting his hand out of the water, he dragged a finger against the round of your right breast, as though committing the sight before him to memory.

“You’re so beautiful.” Xavier breathed out, before pulling you down to a kiss. It felt tender at first, gentle like he was to you. But as seconds ticked by, the kiss grew more intense, headier, with him palming your breast and thumbing over your pert nipple as his other hand drew you closer to him. 

And then, you felt it. You gasped as he pulled you flush against his hardness. The soft cotton fabric brushed past your clit and his clothed tip pushed insistently against your entrance. Taking advantage of your surprise, he slipped his tongue past your lips and deepened the kiss, slowly grinding himself up and down your heat.

“I don’t— I don’t think we should do this here.” You said, breathless after parting from his lips. His hands were incredibly distracting, wandering about and teasing you. But that was nothing compared to his hardened cock resting between your folds, throbbing every now and then to remind you of your shared predicament.

“You’re right. Shall we head back inside?” 

Before you could climb off his lap however, he slipped an arm under you and lifted you, hauling you up to his shoulder with one arm. 

Like a prize won by a successful hunter.

“Wait– I can walk–”

“No.” Xavier said, carrying up and into the room you booked, suddenly glad that you opted for a private hot spring instead. He gently laid you down on the bed before climbing on top of you, his piercing gaze never leaving you once. 

“What kind of hunter would I be if I let my prize go?”

[catboyieejeno]

nct dream reaction ¡! ❞

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

content: smut, cursing, mature, pet names (baby, babe, doll, etc.)

18+ ! minors do not interact

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark lee

mark had spent the last few hours hunched over the soundboard, paper and pen clutched in hand as he racked his brain for something, anything that would make the verse he was writing not entirely dull. but it was so hard to think, to conjure a single logical or productive thought, when you were sat right beside him, doing what you were.

your fingertips are scratching at his scalp, right above the nape of his neck. meanwhile, your other hand busies itself on his thigh, nails tracing random shapes over the material his sweats. frustrated, tired, and in a haze of unorganized thoughts and ideas, mark rolls his head back into the palm of your hand with a low hiss.

“something about this verse doesn't sound right,"

"i think you've just been looking at it too long," you press your lips softly into his cheek and he sighs at the feeling.

"maybe," hums mark, "i just want to finish already,"

"what if,” you whisper, “you take a break for a few minutes, that way you can look at it with new eyes, find out what’s wrong with it.”

the feeling of your breath on the shell of his ear makes his hair stand on end. the bare minimum— that’s all you have to do and you have mark’s head spinning, analyzing whether or not your alleged ‘break’ really implied something else. immediately, he feels the blood rush to his-

what is he doing? he needs to keep working on the song.

he shakes his head. mark readjusts his pants, but the gesture doesn't go unnoticed by you. you're quick to catch the way he fixes himself and wipes the sweat off his palms. “babe,” he tries.

“yes?” your voice is sweet and airy, resembling a pant, with fingers lightly trailing his waistline.

“baby.” there’s an underlying warning to his tone this time; nevertheless, you can sense the bit of desperation he fails to hide.

with your thumb, you lift the waistband and slip your hand inside in one smooth motion. at the same time, your lips attach to his neck.

"i need to finish the song," his head tilts to make space for you, contradicting his words, and you smirk against his skin as you feel him gulp.

"you need a break, baby,"

"mmph," why did you have him so hooked, "no, i need to work-"

"then work," you place your hand on him over his underwear, "no one's stopping you,"

you're giving his bulge a squeeze, teeth grazing his neck, when mark mentally thanks the heavens that he's sitting. otherwise, he's sure his knees would've given out.

"yeah, but," he gasps, "i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ huang renjun

"jun,"

renjun hums in response, not looking up from the book on his chest. he's lying down, eyes scanning the text on the pages while his other hand rests on his stomach, fingers bouncing mindlessly.

with a pout settled on your bottom lip, you sit beside him on your knees, practically begging for any bit of his attention.

all of your attempts to divert his focus away from that damned book have been overlooked. you tried changing your shirt, toying with your bra, and nothing. he didn't even bother to try and sneak a glance when you pulled up your skirt, flashing your pink panties at him.

it was all getting rather annoying.

daringly, your place your hand over his, maneuvering it slowly down until you stop right over his crotch.

"tsk tsk," he moves his hand back up, "what are you doing?"

"junnie," you mewl, fingers tracing the outline of him.

he remains unmoving until you decide you've had enough. when your hand goes into his pants, his lips part slightly, sharply drawing in a breath, and his eyes finally break away from the page to look at you. they're wide open in shock.

"i've been trying to get your attention for the last 20 minutes,"

"well, you should've just asked." he laughs, sounding a little cocky. your eyes narrow at him when he speaks again, "i'll make it up to you, baby," when he goes to close the book, you stop the motion of your wrist, a devilish idea coming to mind.

"no,"

"what?"

"i want you to keep reading," you say matter-of-factly. he's taken aback when your strokes get bolder and you feel him getting harder in your hand, "since you didn't want to pay any attention to me, you can keep reading."

"but i wanna make you feel good-"

"keep reading or i'll stop."

renjun picks up his book hurriedly and flips it open to where he left off. this time, when you pull your shirt off, his eyes are roaming your skin rather than the words of his novel, shallow breaths leaving his parted lips.

he's fully hard now, a flustered mess, uttering whispered pleas of your name.

"baby, that feels so-" he whines quietly.

"focus on your book."

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck." his hips buck up into your hand, book falling to the side as he comes into your fist.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee jeno

about five minutes ago, you were cursing the day you ever let your boyfriend talk you into working out with him.

jeno is normally sweet, shy, affectionate, considerate, but for some reason, when he steps through the doors of the gym, he discovers each and every new way to push all of your buttons.

he’d try to… encourage you throughout your routine, which resulted in you guys bickering the whole way home because he “just couldn’t let you do it at your own pace.” that, or he’d all-together forget about you until he was done with his own work out, headphones plugged in and blasting for 2, sometimes even 3 hours.

tonight, he had dragged you to a small gym that he claimed had less people, for your comfort and his privacy as an idol, and while that was true, you couldn’t help but think to yourself, of course there’s going to be less people— no one is at the gym at two in the fucking morning.

now, however, you’re leaning against the wall, fully over even attempting to finish your work out, watching as jeno does his usual bicep curls in nothing but his tiny black shorts and a matching tank that is skin-tight.

his jaw is locked and tense, face twisting as he strains while pulling up the weights during the rep. sweat makes the ends of his hair stick to his forehead, and when he’s done, he huffs, chest heaving. even the way he grabs his water to gulp it down is messing with your head.

yeah… maybe you didn’t hate the gym that much.

you don’t know what’s different about today, but you’ve been rubbing your thighs together for the last 30 minutes, hoping he’d announce soon that he’s close to done. when that moment never comes, you take matters into your own hands.

“hi, jen,” you stride over to him, a sly smile playing at your lips.

“hey, pretty baby. i’m almost finished, i just have to do-“

blatantly disregarding what he was talking about, you lean in until your lips are kissing the corner of his, “i can’t watch you work out anymore,” you whine, “it’s driving me crazy,”

confused and oblivious as ever, jeno pulls his eyebrows together, “well, i’m sorry, i thought you liked coming here with me-“

“not that kind of crazy, love,” your hand grabs his, guiding it between your legs, “the kind where i want you to bend me over any piece of equipment in here.”

“w-wha-well, i uhm-“

he swallows thickly when you bring your other hand into his shorts, grabbing his dick and pumping it a few times. his hand stays between your legs, though he doesn’t move.

“baby, i promise,” he pants, “this is my last set and then i’m taking you home and we can-“

“why can’t we do it here?”

“are you insane? what if somebody comes in? i have-shit- i have one more set and- ohh, aah-“

“jeno?”

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

jeno’s arm flies back to lean his weight against whatever machine is behind him, trying to stay upright. his fingers finally start moving, rubbing some much needed friction to the spot between your legs. his brain has become mush in less than 2 minutes, lost in the pleasure that you’re giving him. his work out is long forgotten as he groans out your name.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee donghyuck

"you can't sleep with your makeup on, doll," hyuck grumbles, "stop fighting me on this,"

he straddles your lap to keep you from wiggling around, hovering over you with a make-up removing wipe wrapped between his long fingers.

his cheeks are a delicious shade of red, shiny from the sheer layer of sweat that covers his pretty features. he looks boyish and unruly, hair falling messily over his glossed-over eyes as they stare into your own.

your face is surely mirroring his, flushed from all of the drinks in your system. what started as a date night with your boyfriend ended with you having close to a bottle and half of wine each, not that you’re complaining. his body is warm above yours, clouding your judgement more than the alcohol ever could. greedily, your hands wander up his thighs.

hyuck is rambling and slurring distractedly, using the scented wipe to gently swipe away the remnants of product from under your eyes, "it's not good for your skin if you leave your makeup on, you know that-" you can't even focus on what he's lecturing you on because his lips are stained red from the wine, and he seems to have been licking them, given how wet they are.

"hyuck, baby."

"-yes?"

you pucker up your lips, "give me a kiss."

he complies with a cheeky smile, mouth molding obediently against yours. he lets out a throaty moan at your affection.

your fingers fly to the button on his jeans, undoing them. hyuck quickly pulls back, “baby, let me take off your makeup first,”

“but i wanna feel you,” you mumble innocently, hands reaching for the hem of his underwear.

“oh, believe me,” as maliciously as ever, he tongues his cheek, eyebrows wiggling, “you will.”

working as fast and gently as possible, he continues to wipe your face, jaw tightening as you grope him, “hmm, y/n.”

“what’s wrong, baby?”

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck." his head falls into the crook of your shoulder and he shudders at the feeling of your cool hands wrapping around his base. under your palm, you feel him twitch, but hyuck is determined to remain unfazed and not engage in your little game until he’s done.

he composes himself and sighs. another wipe is taken from the pack, softly cleaning your forehead and cheeks.

“shit–alright,” he seethes as you squeeze his tip. hyuck tosses the wipe aside, grunting. your boyfriend roughly grabs your face with one hand, making you stop your teasing, “all done.”

instantly, he leans in, letting his lips meet yours again. this kiss is more lustful than the last; it’s sloppy and needy, and when he pulls away for air, he stays so close that he practically breathes his next words into your mouth, “i should’ve left your makeup on so you could watch me ruin it.”

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ na jaemin

it's unfortunate that you're a light sleeper, seeing as it makes it quite difficult for your boyfriend to do something nice for you.

this morning, jaemin had woken up an hour before you usually do with the intention to surprise you by making breakfast and delivering it to you in bed.

he had everything worked out: he set his alarm on his phone and kept it tucked under his pillow so he could rush to silence it once he woke up, hoping that you'd continue to sleep undisturbed. from there, he rolled out of bed as quietly as possible, tip-toeing out of your bedroom and into the kitchen to make you the best breakfast-in-bed ever.

everything was going according to plan, until now. he had just scooped the first bit of pancake batter into the pan when the padding of your feet alerts him of your presence. your arms wrap around his waist, nose nuzzling into his back.

like a child who didn’t get his way, jaemin whines out and stomps his feet a bit, "babe, you weren't supposed to be up yet.”

"i felt you get up, jaem," you laugh, "let me help you-"

"nope! you're not allowed to do anything. this was supposed to be a surprise,"

"alright, fine."

when you try to pull away to get ahead on the dishes, jaemin's hand drags you back in, right to where you were on his waist.

well, if he won't let you let you help in the kitchen, maybe you can help a different way.

mischievously, your teeth graze his back and shoulders, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the muscles on his stomach, which immediately tense at the contact of your cold fingers. when your actions elicit a reaction from him, a small knowing scoff that told you that he knew exactly what you were up to, you continue your efforts, trailing down to loosen the drawstrings of his joggers.

"oh, yeah," he hums when you touch him. no more than a second later, the free hand that isn’t busy flipping pancakes comes down to wrap over yours, guiding it up and down on his length, “you’re so naughty.”

"i just wanna repay you for getting up early to make me breakfast,"

"if you keep going," he whimpers, "i might end up wanting something else for breakfast," jaemin's chest is heaving at this point.

"the food's gonna burn," you half-heartedly warn, mercilessly continuing your pace.

"well, it just might 'cause i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

there's a clattering noise when the pan is pushed back and off the heat, the spatula dropping onto the counter as jaemin pulls your hand and his from his pants.

he quickly flips off the stove and turns to you, hands wrapping around your thighs to pick you up, situating you on the empty kitchen island.

“breakfast can wait.” he mumbles, then captures your mouth in a kiss.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ zhong chenle

“chenle.”

“the game’s almost over,”

“chenle!”

“there’s 10 minutes left!”

“you’re watching highlights! you can literally watch those whenever!”

“now is also whenever!” he cleverly retorts.

okay, think. that’s the third video he’s watched in a row, the third time he’s fed you the same explanation and promised that this highlight video would be the last.

so, think: how can you get him off his stupid phone?

“you wanna watch your highlights? okay,” you shrug, sitting beside him on the couch.

“okay?” he asks, as if your previous statement is entirely foreign to him, and truthfully, it is. you had never given up so easily before. in fact, chenle had grown to love the banter. half of the time, the only reason he really insists on watching his highlight clips for so long is because he loves to watch you yearn for his attention.

“yep.”

“i’ll be done after this one,” he reminds you, watching closely for your reaction.

you nod nonchalantly, “right.” and give him a forced smile.

you give him a few seconds to get back into the video before you bring your hand over to his thigh. as expected, he doesn’t say anything, continuing his act in hopes that you’ll go back to urging him to shut the video off.

but this time, unlike the others, you remain just as stoic, sneakily inching closer and closer. it’s only a matter of time before he catches on, so you reach over in one motion and undo the button of his pants, putting your hand inside.

oh. so that’s your play?

you catch onto the way his eyes widen for a fleeting moment, but he’s quick to cover it up.

gently, you rub him, leaning in to leave kisses on his cheek, the kind that are so light and soft that they invite goosebumps to spread through his neck and arms.

he resists all urges to shudder or succumb to your touch; instead, he opts for taking his bottom lip between his teeth, a last measure to remain sane as you pleasure him. he can’t care less about the highlights anymore, but he’s stubborn and refuses to lose, so his eyes stay locked on the screen although his thoughts are entirely elsewhere.

you’re supposed to beg for him, not the other way around.

but that’s easier said than done, especially when you’re palming him, pre-cum leaking from his tip as his mind wanders off the game, clinging to everything that is you.

chenle squeezes his eyes shut for a second.

“what’s the matter?”

“nothing.” he says through gritted teeth.

you keep toying with him, bringing your other hand to the button of your own shorts. at this, chenle’s eyes snap over and he mentally curses, blowing air through his nostrils harshly.

his fingers are turning white from the way he’s gripping his phone with so much force. every stroke of your hand is wearing him down, bringing him closer to his climax, but he doesn’t want to finish yet, not before he’s been inside of you.

“chenle, baby, you’re not even watching-“

“yeah, i know, that’s because i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ park jisung

“and then, if you press these buttons, your attack upgrades and deals more damage…”

if you’re being honest, everything jisung has said about his new switch game, which he’s explaining to you with so much interest and passion, is going in one ear and out the other.

it’s not that you don’t care, you do! you’re more than happy to sit and listen to him go on about something he’s excited about, but you simply don’t know what’s gotten into you today.

all you can seem to focus on is him.

his lips are plump, looking softer and more kissable than ever, and you think you may pass out when his tongue darts out to wet them. now, they’re glossed over, just like his pretty brown eyes that reflect the video game screen from the console resting on his chest.

your leg lies across his body, unable to keep still with the ache starting to flourish at your core. you’re practically grinding on his thigh and he’s oblivious as ever.

the fingers that hug his waist have now developed a mind of their own: they dance over his stomach and travel south until they make their way under jisung’s waistband.

“what-“ he clears his throat to cover the way his voice cracks, “what are you doing?”

“what are you talking about?”

all of his muscles tense up, “with your, uhm, hand?”

“oh,” you feign surprise, batting your eyes with innocence as if there could be no another reason your hand was holding his crotch, “it’s warm, my fingers were getting cold,”

he nods rather awkwardly, mumbling something that implies he understands and tries to continue with his explanation.

key word: tries.

his speech is a mess and a nervous sweat has broken out on his forehead. he’s even begun to explain things about the game wrong, spewing out nervous laughs in between weak apologies.

as hard as he’s trying to keep his act together, there’s one thing that blatantly gives him away. under your hand, you can feel him getting hard, and he knew it, too.

the entire time he’s talking, he’s growing harder and harder in your palm and you just cant resist moving a bit.

“aah, that feels-“

“so, what does that character do, again?”

jisung blinks at you with wide eyes, an look of disbelief on his face. after a pause, he answers you quietly.

“they—mmh, they shoot these uhm-“

you nod teasingly, “uh-huh?”

“these fireballs that-“ defeated, he groans out, “baby…”

“woah, fireballs?!”

“baby, i’ll tell you about the game later. right now, i-“ he sets the switch aside and you pout in false disappointment.

“what? why?”

"because—i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

ੈ♡˳

[marishoodie7]

behind the bleachers

Ethan Landry x short!cheerleader!reader hcs

Warnings: unprotected p in v, size kind (sorta), choking, NSFW 🔞

A/N: this is my first time writing chocking and size kinks and tbh I’m probably gonna write some more 🤭 as you guys know this is for reaching 100! You voted best boy Ethan and I’m gonna deliver 🤍 hope you guys enjoy 😘

╰┈➤let’s get into itttt

: ̗̀➛Ethan’s never really been in a relationship with anymore before. He was super nervous to ask you out, and you always thought he was cute. You wanted to ask him out, but before you could Ethan finally got the courage up to ask you himself. 

: ̗̀➛He immediately goes up to you after games, picks you up, and twirls you around. Every time he does it your heart flutters. 

: ̗̀➛Ethan is over 6ft and you’re below average height, so he loves to use that to his advantage, no matter the situation. You’re reaching for something on the top shelf, no problem. Ethan’s got it for you, but be prepared for him to give you a smuggest smirk ever. 

: ̗̀➛Once everyone clears you off the field you two will sneak behind the bleachers. You wrap your legs around his waist and he slams you against the wall, his dick already hardening under his jeans. 

: ̗̀➛He’ll push your skirt and panties out of the way and pull his dick out before towering over you and pressing you against the wall, slowly gliding in before pulling almost his whole length out and slamming it into you again. 

: ̗̀➛As he fucks you he lifts you up the wall, your feet no longer touching the ground as you slightly wrap your legs around him. He never once slows down or breaks the steady motions he’s set.

: ̗̀➛As much as he loves hearing the pretty little sounds you make, he can’t have anyone hearing you. If you moan and gasp a little too loudly he’ll cover your mouth with his hand and fuck you harder, his hips slamming into yours.

: ̗̀➛Your orgasm comes quickly and you find yourself bucking your hips his meet his thrusts, a hot tight knot slowly winding itself through you. 

: ̗̀➛His dick hits your g-spot and you practically scream into his hand. The sound of skin hitting skin and the muffled cries of his name fill the empty field.

: ̗̀➛His hand moves to your throat and he begins to squeeze, his fingers wrapping around soft skin. You get out a choked moan and cum hard around him as he increases the pressure

: ̗̀➛“that’s right princess, come on baby,” he murders in your ear, “think you can hold out a little longer for me,” his voice quivers and you can tell he’s nearing his orgasm

: ̗̀➛You nod your head painfully, and his hands loosen around your throat and drop to your hips as his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier. 

: ̗̀➛“that’s good, my little slut,” he spits. Ethan throws his head back and his mouth parts slightly, your hand immediately tangled itself in his curls.

: ̗̀➛he bucks his hips a few more times before you feel his warmth spread through you. It takes Ethan all his strength to let you down gently. He pulls up his pants and zippers them, slings an arm around your shoulder.

: ̗̀➛“Where have you two been?” Your friend smirks. Ethan smiled shyly and looks to you. 

“I was packing up my stuff,” You paint towards the pink duffel bag Ethan shoulders. Your friend laughs, “Alright, we were about to head out and hang out, you two down?” 

You nod and Ethan squeezes your shoulder, you both say your good byes to your friends but not before confirming the meeting stop. He leads you to the car and opens your side of the door, he slides in and pecks you on the lips before giving you a sweet smile. You almost let yourself forget that was the same boy that fucked you senseless earlier. 

“I love you so much,” He said before hitting the gas and pulling out of the school parking lot. 

“I love you too, Eth,” you returned the smile, still thinking about how perfect he was. 

fine.

thanks for reading 🤍

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main part 6

Masterpost

This town is weird. Jason knows he shouldn’t be one to judge, considering Gotham and his own attachment to it. But this place is like a nightmare, stuck in time backwards-ness intermingled between the people and the place itself. It reminds him of Fawcett, which is not a good thing. He feels judged just walking down the street.

The head into a diner looking restaurant, fast food by the looks of it, that is in fact named Nasty Burger. Jason knows he shouldn’t judge. He’s doing it anyway.

There’s a girl behind the counter who seems to be glaring at Jason. Or Danny, but since he’s Jason right now, he decides he doesn’t need to deal with whatever her issue is. With little faith, Jason tells Jazz to order for him and goes to sit in a booth. 

The couple in the booth next to him watch him as he heads to his booth and gape at him as he sits down.

“Danny, come on.” The guy whines, he and the girl both stand and come over to sit across from him. “What was that? Don’t want to sit with us?”

 Jason tenses. “Uh.” 

“Hey guys!” Jazz says, coming to sit next to Jason. She places a tray with a burger, fries, and a soft drink in front of him and he eyes it warily. “This is Jason.”

They two across from them get these stupid dumbfounded looks. The girl behind the counter is listening to their conversation.

“Jason, these are Danny’s friends, Sam and Tucker.” Jazz motions to the girl and then the boy.

“Nice to meet you.” Jason inclines his head at them, and decides to try a fry.

“Is he…” Sam stops herself. “Does he know about Danny?”

“Not much, but they haven’t officially met yet, obviously.” Jazz is eating her food like it’s normal, so Jason follows her lead on the burger as well. “Danny should be here sometime tomorrow.”

“Where is Danny now?” Tucker asks, concerned.

“With my family.” Sam and Tucker look at him strangely. He can tell they’re concerned for their friend though. “He’s being driven back now, they’re rotating drivers so they don’t have to stop for the night. He’ll be here as soon as he can.” 

“Danny will be fine until he gets back.” Jazz comforts them. “Danny was more concerned about Jason, considering the food at our house.”

Sam and Tucker tense in response. “Right. I’d be worried about that too. Might want to stay at the house after this anyway.” Sam says lightly. Jason can tell he’s being talked around. Can hear them talking about something they don’t want him to know under the guise of their conversation, but he doesn’t know enough to make sense of it. 

“Let us know if anything comes up of course, but Danny won’t be able to hang out for a while.” Jazz smiles at them, but her eyes are concerned.

“Sure thing.” Tucker says. 

“If you guys want to have a chat where you can actually talk to each other, I can leave you along for a bit.” Jason tells them all. 

“No!” Tucker says quickly. They don't seem like they care that he caught on, there's no shame to be excluding him. They all just seem worried about something. “Best you stay with Jazz.” He turns back to her. “The GIW tools were deactivated. The whole fiasco yesterday was a lot for everyone. But they should be up and running again by tomorrow.”

Jazz nods at them and Sam and Tucker leave, whisper-arguing to each other as they go.

They eat quietly for a minute, but Jazz stiffens as she looks at something out the window.

Jason follows her gaze to see her tracking a man outside. He’s pretty smarmy looking. Long grey hair, in a full suit, seems like more Brucie’s crowd than someone who would be in a place called Nasty Burger. But he’s spotted them through the window and does seem to be on his way in. ““Hey Jason, would it be cool if you went to the bathroom for a second? Nevermind, there’s no time, follow my lead.”

The man walks right up to their booth.

“Daniel, Jasmine, lovely to see you both.”

“Vlad, can we help you?” Jazz asks politely, Jason just glares at them man.

“You know I always love to see you, but I would like to speak with Daniel for a moment.”

“Unfortunately, Danny and I have places to be, Vlad. I’m sure my parents would love to speak with you though. Dad has been meaning to stop by.” Jazz gathers the trash and remnants of their meal and stands, going to throw them away. Jason gets up to follow her, but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He feels a tickle in his throat and his next breath comes out cold and foggy, visible in the air. 

“Daniel, don’t you want to have a talk?” The hand on his shoulder is forceful.

“Don’t touch me.” Jason turns himself out of his grasp, backing away towards the door. Jazz pulls him quickly back onto the street towards home.

“Who the hell was that guy?”

“Danny’s godfather, friend of our parents. They went to college together.”

They’re walking past an alley when Jason feels that tickle again, he stops as his breath comes out cold, then something rams into him, pushing him to the ground farther in the alley.

[helluvapoison]

Lucifer x Imp!Reader

warnings: imp bigotry, heavy topics, lowkey angsty (happy end, i swear)

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Secret relationship, baby!

• Let’s get into the hard part first, shall we? The discrimination of Imps isn’t something Lucifer set into motion. They helped him build Hell into what it is today—! Which is… flawed. Fuck, there’s no excuse. Know that he doesn’t condone it and he’s ashamed to admit he allowed it get this far

• That saying “history repeats itself”? Yeah, Hell isn’t immune

• It’s an elephant in the room situation when your and Lucifer’s feelings come into play. Along with the enormous power imbalance. He would never take advantage of that, by the way, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there

• Those issues are in the beginning though. Yes, it takes a lot of time and many painful conversations but now? Undoubtedly worth it

• Lucifer is quite proud of himself for the charade he concocted. You pose as his employee! No one would question it and you could hang around as much as you like! It’s perfect, right?

• “It sounds like a shitty romcom plot.” You snort

Lucifer’s smile is unwavering, eyebrows high on his face as he awaits what he longs to hear.

“But?”

Sighing, you softly return his smile, “It’s perfect.”

• And like a shitty romcom, it is

• Naturally, there’s ups and downs

• For Lucifer, the worst is that he hates keeping you a secret. It’s not that he wants to dish it live with Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench, he’s rather private as is, he’s just so— happy! He wants to show how proud he is to be yours! Unfortunately, that would do more harm for all of Hell. Selfish as his wants might be, he wouldn’t do that. Especially if it meant putting you in danger

• Occasionally he takes you to meetings and events. You try and slip into the background, supporting him from the shadows. Even from the other side of the room, Lucifer’s eyes will find you standing amongst the other Imps. He accidentally ends up ignoring whoever’s trying to rub elbows with the King of Hell

• (Honestly, it’s a miracle no one has found you two out yet. His longing gazes are far from subtle)

• Sometimes those outings don’t end well. A blue blooded dickbag might’ve dumped their drink on you or shoved you because you were “in the way” or berated you in front of everyone. Lucifer sees red and the entire event is cut short via a demonic rage. On a positive note, his publicity goes off the charts! “King of Hell defends his people, no matter the race!”

• (A motherfucking miracle, I tell you)

• Lucifer likes to take care of you when those incidents occur. He feels guilty. For everything. Reassuring him has always easy for you in any other situation. This one just bleeds into something personal. A failure

• So, you let him take care of you. It improves his mood bit by bit. Could be pancakes! No matter the time of day, Lucifer’s go-to are pancakes. (He’ll simply die all over again if you let him feed you too) Could be a bath for the two of you to share, he loves washing you and putting a bubble beard on your face

• Sleepovers can be a tad difficult to pull off but no one disturbs him in the mornings. He loves having you in his arms all night long. Kissing your horns, forehead, eyes, nose and lips— yes, in that order— before wishing you only the sweetest dreams

• Lucifer has a rubber duck that looks uncannily like you sitting on his desk at all times

• Oh! And despite being an Imp, you’re still taller than your beloved short king. It’s slight but he adores the difference

♡ a/n: if i had a nickel for every time a blue blood fell in love with an imp, i’d have /three nickels HAHAHA

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Seventeen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 4K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. PTSD, references and descriptions of domestic violence , grooming, manipulation, pregnancy. Simon's back story. Trauma. Bun opens up a bit more. Domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt. Simon is a nervous dad. Emotional confessions.

“It’s Beth.” Simon wipes the countertop, chasing little dirty fingerprints with a wet cloth, before fixing a hesitant set of eyes on yours.

“That’s pretty… I like it.” There’s something odd about his expression, something haunted almost, a deep, dark well filled to the brim with rancid, stagnant water. You sense it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He motions to the chair and slides your mug into your waiting hands. “Sit.”

“Simon?”

“It was my sister in law’s name. My brother’s wife.” Was. Your throat goes dry, muscles tensing.

“Was?” He pulls your fingers into his, cradled in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin, over and over on a loop. A mechanism of comfort, connection. A thread stitch into the fabric between your heart and his.

“They died, sweetheart. My family… I lost them.” Grief, a shared experience you know now, froths in the pit of your heart. You tremble, he holds you steady, though it should be the other way around.

“What… what happened?” He sighs, dragging your palm to his lips.

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”

He holds you as he talks, diaphragm rumbling against your ear. You’re laid on his chest, unable to see his face, watch his expressions, but for this, you don’t feel the urge to dissect each one.

You’re content against him. Listening. Mourning.

There’s a swath of silence afterwards, and then he clears his throat. “So, I was dead. Dead until I met Johnny, I think. And then everything changed.” Johnny’s words from weeks and weeks ago make more sense, Simon’s actions and reactions rapidly gaining clarity. “When we found you, I saw it, the look in your eyes. It was the same one that used to haunt my mother’s.”

“You saved her.” He burrows his face in your neck and shakes his head.

“I did what I could to piece them back together. Helped get Tommy clean and on his feet, got rid of the old man for good, but the damage… the way she suffered, it was irreversible. The best I could do was be there as much as often as possible.” You comb through his hair, short strands of silk like Penny’s, and hold him close. “I promised myself, when I met Johnny, when we fell in love, I’d do better by my own family. For him, and then by Penny. And now you. Promised I wouldn’t become him.” Your heart clenches, squeezing in on itself. “Violence may have been a part of my job, but it wasn’t a part of me.” His fingers dance along your spine until they reach your chin, tilting you back to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust, he already has it.

“Johnny thinks I’ve got a bit of a savior complex now, but I want you to know… that’s not what this is, bunny.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, fighting through the thick of emotion building there, accumulating in heaps, “I know that.”  

“But we do need to talk about him, you know that?” Darkness creeps along the wispy, dream-like cocoon the two of you built on the couch, and you push it away, try to banish it, basking in the comfort of his arms instead.

“I can’t, I… right now it feels like I’m in a dream where nothing hurts and nothing can scare me or hurt me, and I don’t-“

“You’re not in a dream, bunny. That’s your reality. This is real. Nothing can, or will, hurt you, scare you. No one will ever touch you again.”

“I need more time. Please.” Simon sighs, but doesn’t push, and the two of you lay there, together, suspended in comforting silence. For another moment, your world is a dream. A safe, beautiful dream, where happy endings are real, where love stretches on for eternity, unconditional, limitless, unbreakable.

You’re so different now, stark changes shocking to the girl you once knew, the one who doubled back on her routes to and from work, the one that walked everywhere with her hackles up. Little pieces of black rot now turned a blinding white, a brilliant beam seeking to shine on the whole of your life.

It’s a dream.

One you won’t easily surrender.

“I was really young.” It comes during a lapse in conversation, practically a blurt, an interruption pushing heat to your cheeks. Expelled from your mind, your body without choice, cracks appearing in the preservation that you’ve so defiantly clung to. You have to tell them, eventually. You have to break it all apart, let them see. Johnny’s mouth opens, and Simon’s hand darts to his wrist faster than a snake could strike, a clear signal. Don’t speak. “Obviously now, looking back on it, I realize I was groomed, or I guess, easily influenced. He was older, and I graduated early, started college early. I was in my second year when I turned eighteen. My mom,” the lump in your throat nearly chokes you until you swallow it down, “my mom busted her ass for me. I went to college on scholarships and her hard work.” Metal clanks against ceramic, forks settling on the edges of plates. “Anyway, everyone always thought I was a know-it-all and pretty awkward. We weren’t officially like, together right away but it was pretty serious from the day I met him. Eventually… he started to change me. Change my goals. He even manipulated my career path.”

“What did you go to school for?” Simon asks casually, head tilted.

“Bioscience. I wanted to be a doctor, so I thought it would transition well for med school. Thought I could become a surgeon.” You were a girl then; you know that now. Naïve, misguided by a hand that sought to control you, not love you as you hoped. It’s embarrassing, baring this, showing these broken bits and pieces to them, shattered shards of a mirror never glued back together.

“What happened?”

“He did.” Johnny squeezes your hand. “Made it to pre-med but ended up leaving and starting a nursing program instead. It’s what he wanted, and by then, I couldn’t say no.”

“But ye didnae want it, to be a nurse.”

“No. I didn’t. I love my job now, of course, and I’m happy in it, but originally, I wanted something else. He tricked me, in all honesty. Showed me something that wasn’t real, reeled me in, and then revealed his true colors.” You shudder. “The first time… the first time it happened, I shook it off, forgave him. I-“ the memory is still so strong, it stuns you. The blood from your busted lip is fresh on your tongue, sting on the side of your face turning to a blooming ache.

“Bunny?” Johnny’s grip moves to your elbow, strong, but not too tight. An anchor. You shake your head.

“Sorry.”

“Ye’re alright, ye can stop if-“

“No, I… I want to share these things with you. It feels like I’m supposed to, like you should know me… like this.”

“We already know you, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.” Simon’s tone is serious, and you nod.

“It’s embarrassing, looking back on it and realizing how bad it was, how bad I let it get. How I let him cut me off from everyone, change my career, squash me like a bug.” You laugh, but it’s empty.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong,” Johnny’s lips press together, muscles in his jaw straining, “was never yer fault.” You don’t answer, just trace the woodgrain of the table, texture moving beneath your fingers. The conversation is draining you, leeching light away like a horizon swallowing the last of the sun.

“He’s rich. Like, fuck you money rich. Rich like make problems go away rich, and his job…” your head shakes again. It’s the most you’ve ever said, heavy buried secrets finally dug up, resurrected, the truth trembles through your bones. “He has resources. Has chased me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I know you’ve said you’re not really sure, but did he ever tell you what his job entails?”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.” Johnny shifts in his seat, antsy, and you shrug. “He kept that part of his life very, very private. There was even a room in the house that was always locked.” Your head is heavy, lead upon your shoulders, and Johnny tucks his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“I know this is hard bun, but ye’re so brave for us. Lettin’ us know ye this way. I’m proud of ye.” He murmurs, lips to your forehead, and you fully relax, wrapping around his middle.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, eyes closing, and he rubs your back.

“Let’s get ye to bed then.”

“Your child is too big for me to carry!” You announce, hand on your hip, little backpack straps looped around your arm. Simon closes the door behind you, chuckling, and Penny plops onto the floor. She goes to a nursery day program now a few days a week, something that was a contentious subject in the house for far too long, opinions and arguments ping ponging over your head until the decision was finally made.

“It’s not safe.”

“Ye cannae keep ‘er locked up here forever, love.”

“Why not?” Simon bounced Penny against his chest, unimpressed look on both their faces, so alike you almost busted out laughing.

“Because she’s a child. She needs to be w’other children, not just us.” Johnny brings his free hand to his lips, squeezing Simon’s wrist. “I know ye’re scared.” Simon’s not the only one who’s scared, you thought. Phillip lurked at the edge of your mind, worry that he might find Penny plagued you, even though they both assured that wasn’t their main concern.

“She’s too little.”

“Simon. We agreed on this,” Johnny gives him a sharp look, “do yer research, find the best one. Ye know this needs to happen, for her. She needs to make friends, learn how to interact with kids her own age. Ye know this.”

“Fine.”

“She cannae be, not m’wee lamb.”

“She is.” You rub your shoulder. “Sheesh.” Penny’s stomach gurgles at your feet, and Simon grimaces.

“There’s a bug goin’ around the kids, teacher told me today.”

“Not surprising. Nurseries are little petri dishes.” You straighten your back, rolling your shoulder, and wince.

���Hurts?” Simon’s thumb digs into the soft spot there, and your lashes flutter.

“Maybe ye need a hot bath,” Johnny suggests, and Simon ushers the two of you up the stairs.

“I’ve got Pen. Go relax.”

“This is nice.” Johnny soaps your back, lavender and vanilla steam swirling around in the bathroom as you lean against him, his chest to your back.

“Aye.” The cloth drags across your chest, teasing your nipples, and you revel in his touch, soaking in every second he gives you, the brush of his cheek against yours, his lips on your neck. “Like havin’ ye all to myself sometimes.” You blink.

“Does it bother you? When we’re not all together?”

“No. Ye have a relationship wit’ me, and wit’ Simon, and we have a relationship all together. No one is the same. I like it.”

“Me too.” You settle again, loose and tender in the bath, soaped hands running up and down your back, kneading your shoulders, releasing the tension coiled in your bones. You groan.

“Feel good then?”

“Yeah.” He presses a hand over your heart with a deep breath, before he takes another.

And then one more.

“What’s wro-“

“I love ye bun. Wholly. Think ‘ve loved ye since the day I opened my eyes to ye leaning over the bed in hospital.” You turn, twisting to face him, and he dabs your nose with his thumb. “I dinnae have any expectations of ye, or yer feelings, but I had to be honest. I had to tell ye.” The confession fights its way forward, begging to be let out, to be freed.

Tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him you love them, that they’re your light, that they’ve chased the darkness away and replaced it with the sun.

You can’t.

Instead, you rest your forehead against his, syncing your breathing, sharing the moment, holding onto him so tight in case he slips away.

“I can’t say it.” You whisper, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“An’ that’s okay. I’ll wait, I’ll wait for ye as long as ye need.” There’s no pressure, no demands, just Johnny and his arms, his understanding and patience, his love.

You blink back tears and crash your lips to his. “Thank you.”

Your stomach is what wakes you.  

Something it in is burning, tossing bile around, the sensation strong enough your lips curl, and you try to draw a deep breath through your nose.

You wriggle, trying to pull free from where you’re tangled up in Simon and Johnny, carefully and slow, hoping to avoid waking them though you know even in their dreams, they sleep with one eye open.

 Still, you manage to make it to the bathroom before feet are padding across the carpet on your heels.

You sink to your knees in front of the toilet, stomach bubbling, sending the scorching remnants of dinner up your throat.

The door clicks open. “No, get out. I don’t want you to see-“ you gag again, tap turning on at the sink, a cold washcloth folding over your neck.

“Shhh,” Simon murmurs, rubbing your back, “get it all out.”

“Oh god,” another wave swells, and your muscles tense, body expelling bits of bile and not much else.

“That’s the way, good girl.”

“This is gross.” You gasp. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’ve seen way worse than you puking, sweetheart.”

“She alright?” Johnny half yells from the bedroom and you groan. The guilt of him having to maneuver himself out of bed, still not one hundred percent healthy, still not back to full strength, draws a shiver from your spine.

“I’m fine, don’t come in here!” Your stomach pitches, fingers tightening against your thighs, but nothing comes up, again and again, until everything settles and you’re breathing deeply, steady, back straight.

“Let’s get you some water.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s going to do what he wants to do when it comes to taking care of you, you know that now. It’s painfully clear as he tries to help you drink from the glass, and then puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I’m fine.” You assure weakly, but he only watches you, concerned.

“Think it’s the nursery bug?”

“Probably.” You sag, energy drained completely, and he steadies you, cupping your cheek. His touch is cool, and you lean into it, savoring the reprieve it brings against your throbbing temples.

“Want to go back to bed?”

“What if I throw up again?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll jus’ clean it up.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You glance up at the timid mouse of a nurse, brand new, fingers clutched around a tablet like she’s drowning and it’s her life vest.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you look at these orders for me?” She looks terrified, and it tells you everything you need to know. She’s probably caught a mistake.

Baby nurses begin their careers in a delicate position. They’re overwhelmed, fresh off a whirlwind of orientation, overloaded with policy and procedure, and depending on their preceptor, either somewhat prepared or completely lost. Pitting a baby nurse against a provider, even a first-year resident, is like sending a lamb in to confront a lion. The result is usually tears.

She hands you the tablet and you spot it immediately. Incorrect dosage.

“Good catch.” You reassure, coaxing a small smile, and she nods.

“What do I do?”

“We go find the provider and clarify the dosage.” You’re not going to leave it up to her, alone, hang her out to dry and probably get run over by whatever moron ordered it in the first place, who happens to be-

Marshall.

Your eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “The pharmacy is also very on top of seeing errors like this, but it’s good you’ve noticed too, for the patient and yourself. Liability for things like this can be very tricky.” She nods again, trailing behind you, brand new squeaky sneakers echoing your own steps.

You can’t stop the sigh that escapes you when you find him, leaned up against a wall, arms crossed, smirking, cocking his head at your companion. “What’s up?”

“Can you take a look at this for me?” You purposefully zoom in on the meds tab, practically painting a bullseye around his error. He scoffs, defensive immediately, dismissive, before he takes a closer look, jaw clenched.

“That’s my mistake.” You blink. Marshall rarely ever takes responsibility so gracefully. Your eyebrow lifts.

“Care to fix it?”

“Of course.” His agreement is punctuated with a smile, though it’s off kilter.

“You can go,” you nod to the nurse, “good job.” Her eyes dart between you and Marshall, and without another word, scampers off.

“She’s new?” His usual interest in new nurses is less enthusiastic than ever.

You hate Marshall. He’s a scumbag. But he’s also been your coworker since day one, and you can’t help yourself. “What’s up with you?”  

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never owned up to a mistake that quickly, and you didn’t even make some smart-ass remark. Or berate her. Or give me an attitude.” He winces.

“It’s nothing.” But it doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something is wrong, like he’s sad, or depressed, and try as you might, your bleeding heart can’t walk away.

“What’s wrong.” You phrase a statement, a demand, instead of a question, and he blows a frustrated breath.

“It’s… I’m seeing someone.” Your eyes go wide.

“Who?” Please don’t say a nurse, please don’t say a nurse, please-

“Anna. From radiology.”

“Oh my god. The cupcake girl?” Anna was a fan favorite. Not only was she kind, but she was also quick with her reads, and baked cupcakes for the entire floor almost once a month. As far as radiologists go, she was better than most.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“I really like her but… she’s always been aware of my reputation and is trying to take it slow. Too slow.” You could lecture him with a million reasons why she’s in the right, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got the resolve to handle it.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dragging her feet. Doesn’t want to hang out more than once a week, rarely stays the night. I’ve been to her place a handful of times, but that’s it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two months.” You laugh.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a long time for me!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Two months is no time at all. Have you discussed the… reluctance with her?” He seems uneasy, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you enjoy watching him squirm.

“Yeah. She says she’s happy, but isn’t trying to jump into anything,” his air quotes carry a whiff of the condescending asshole you know too well. This conversation couldn’t be timelier, and you think back to what you told Johnny the other night.

“Just because she’s taking it slow doesn’t mean her feelings for you aren’t there. You have to respect that. If she’s still putting up with you after two months, I’d bet she’s just being cautious. Getting hurt sucks.” He nods thoughtfully. “Give her the time she’s asking for, and don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.

The sentiment twists a knife lodged deep in your heart. Is that what will happen to you? Will they give up? Get tired of waiting for you to spill all your secrets, get tired of waiting for you to take the final step? To tell them you love them?

Get tired of waiting for you to let them use your real name?

“I didn’t expect her, didn’t expect to feel this way.” The mask comes down, revealing a hopelessly lovesick heart, the depth of it shining in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone ever does expect it. That’s the surprising thing about love, I guess.” You sway, a palm pressed to the wall as your hand flattens over your stomach.

“You alright?” Marshall’s voice is far away as you breathe through your nose, trying to fend off the nausea tightening your throat.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit under the weather. Think I’ve got a bug or something.” Your stomach roils in warning, and you barely grit out an apology before dashing away.

Just in time to toss your breakfast up in the toilet.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you in the toilet. You didn’t sound fine, and you shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.” Your manager shakes her head like she’s disappointed, and you glare. You both know if you had called this morning talking about a stomach bug, she would have told you to suck it up unless you were actively vomiting.

“Look around. Do you see an excess of nurses on the floor?”

“We’ll manage. Or call someone in.” You shake your head.

“We’re already way past policy ratios.” You bite your tongue when safe nearly slips out, not wanting to piss her off. That’s the union’s job.

“At least go sit down or something. Take a break. Come back in twenty minutes and let me know how you feel.”

Your closet is cozy, and for once during the day, unoccupied. The nausea has subsided, for now, and you shoot a text to the guys, asking about Penny. If you feel like this, you can’t imagine how she feels.

You curl up and imagine you’re home instead, maybe in bed with a sleeve of crackers and some soda, warm chest at your back, a hand stroking over your hip. Maybe you’d have some soup, maybe the three of you would watch a movie after Pen went down for bed. You start to drift in the domestic fantasy, sleeping curling itself like a blanket over your shoulders, until you’re startled by the vibration of your phone, foot kicking forward in a jolt against a shelf.

A box falls to the floor.

HCG strips.

You stare at it for a long time, numbers and dates and weeks mashing together, calculations getting lost in the fray.

You’re not…

No.

Ridiculous. Not even possible. You’re on the pill. Religiously.

You have the nursery bug that Pen brought home. Get a grip.

Still…

You use the fifth-floor bathroom, one of the only single occupant toilets in the whole damn hospital, nausea now coming from a completely different source.

The timer on your phone is incredibly slow, or maybe it’s just time itself, the world turning in slow motion, every second elongated into turbulent silence, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much of everything to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Panic.

Sadness.

Grief.

It’s grief that is the strongest. Grief for something that Phillip stole, mourning for something that was once so close, so real, and then gone in an instant.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel his boot in your stomach. The press of a steel toe, jammed beneath your ribs, wild, deranged eyes staring down at you in a rage.

But-

Buried so, so far beneath the crushing weight of it all, there is a bright little pocket of sunshine. A small little sliver of light, beams of hope stretching for the sky, warmth spilling over until your hands tremble with the conflict warring inside you.

Nothing has changed, but everything could.

The timer goes off with a shrill chime, and you lean over the sink to where the small strip sits on top of a cup.

A bold pink line.

And then another, more faint, but certainly there. A simple equation, one plus one equals two. Simple math.

Tangible. Present.

Pregnant.