#rip hiccups toes

[sturnioz]

‘BACK ARCHED LIKE A CAT’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut

word count. 1k

❝you look so pretty bent over for me like this, you know that?❞

content warnings. explicit content, kitchen sex with matt, unprotected sex, creampie, spanking, oral (female receiving), cum eating, dirty talk.

(edit)authors note. i tried to add the taglist to this, but unfortunately it glitched when i posted it and wouldnt tag correctly so i have given up lol. sorry abt that.

You’re gasping for breath, whiny moans fleeting past your lips as your fingernails scrape across the kitchen counter in attempt to grasp onto something to keep you stable, knowing that you would definitely fall to the ground if it wasn’t for Matt’s tight hold on your waist, his hips pistoning into yours at a speed that has your body shaking from the force.

The tears build in your eyes as Matt’s hand slides down to the bottom of your spine, pressing down to arch your back further into him which allows him to hit deeper places inside of you, causing your toes to curl as a cry rips from the back of your throat.

Matt’s chest vibrates with a low grunt with each thrust of his hips, and he leans over your body to mouth at the bare skin of your shoulder blade where the strap of your tank top had slipped down during the fun, and his teeth nips around the area.

Your cheek presses to the cold countertop, panting heavily against the marble tiling as Matt abuses your pussy, and his hand curls around your front to dip between your thighs, his nimble fingers rubbing circles on your sensitive clit.

Your thighs squeeze around his hand with a loud wail, and you hear Matt chuckle lowly next to your ear, clearly enjoying how you’re reacting to him. The tip of his tongue traces the shell of your ear as he feels your body tremble and your cunt clench around his cock, eliciting a deep moan from him.

“Yeah? You like that?” Matt questions you with a taunting hum. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around me, sweetheart… you really like getting fucked like this? In the kitchen where we eat? Where anyone could just walk out and see you spread open for me?” He laughs when he sees you nod your head frantically. “Fuuuck. I love it s’much—love it when you’re like this, taking my cock so fucking well. That’s it, sweetheart.”

“Ma—tt.” You hiccup through salty tears, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your body jolts with each movement, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the kitchen.

He’s giggling behind you now, and his hands roughly grip your ass, hissing between his teeth as he sends a few harsh slaps to your skin. It was your mind whirling.

“You look so pretty bent over for me like this, you know that? So, so pretty—fuck—you’re so wet too.” Matt babbles as he pounds his cock into your pussy, feeling your walls spasm around him. 

You’re crying now, a blubbering mess of tears and drool at the pleasure and the euphoria that buzzes through your veins, and a shrill shoots down your spine when Matt slaps your ass once again.

“I—shit, oh my god—Matt…Matty, m’gonna cum—” You cut yourself off with a gasp, accidentally knocking the dishes on the drying rack as you try to reach for something to keep yourself grounded, the pleasure in the pit of your belly tightening. “Fuck!”

“Hm, yeah? You gonna cum f’me?” Matt asks you and you immediately respond with a pathetic nod of your head. He grins at that, “I’m gonna cum too… Can I cum inside? Fill this pussy right up? Do you want that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” You plead repeatedly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Fill me up, Matt. Make me yours.”

“You silly, silly girl…” Matt chuckles as he leans over your body once more, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he whispers, “You’re already mine.”

Those three words—so fucking simple—were enough to have you coming undone with a loud cry, cumming over his cock that fucks you through it, and he praises you lovingly as his hands stroke down your back.

But the sloppiness of his thrusts is enough for you to know what’s about to happen next and you welcome it immediately, gasping as he fills you up with his cum, shivering as you feel it leak and drip down your thighs. 

Your legs shake as Matt slowly pulls out of you, but he gives you no time to react as he’s already spinning you around to facing him, pressing his mouth to yours in a sloppy, heated kiss. His palms lay flat on your cheeks, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you to him as his tongue slips into your mouth. 

He grunts as your teeth grazes over his tongue, chuckling between the kiss as he feels your hands desperately fist at his shirt.

Matt takes a step back after a few moments, his smile wide as he watches you chase after his lips for another kiss, but he hooks his arms beneath your thighs to lift you up and he settles you down on the countertop behind yourself. 

You hiss as your bare ass meets the cold tiles, wincing at the slight sting it causes against your heated skin, but you quieten when you see Matt drop down to his knees in front of you, littering soft kisses around your inner thighs that he pries apart before he dives forward, shoving his tongue between your puffy folds, slurping up the mess that he had created.

His name leaves your lips in heavy pants, and you thread your fingers through his messy hair, grabbing at him needily to tug him even closer as he tastes you, his tongue lapping at your pussy with the most animalistic grunt you have ever heard rumble from his chest.

Matt’s tongue swirls around your sensitive clit, and your thighs twitch around his head as you moan, trying to arch away from his touch but the grip he has on your legs forces you to remain still and open for him, eliciting a cry from you as he drags you closer to his face, not caring if he’s driving you into oversensitivity as he’s too busy eating you out, your arousal and his cum lathering on his tongue. 

“Tastes so fucking sweet,” Matt moans in your cunt, and his eyes flit up to meet yours, his eyebrows raising cockily at you, “Always tastes so sweet f’me, don’t you?” 

© sturnioz

[tteokdoroki]

Denji blushes when you hold his cock hand

☆༉ — DENJI. pretty boy.

about. let’s pretend this ask isn’t years old but yeah actually he does omg :( !! started writing this ages ago but finished for @miguelism mwah <3

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. characters aged up to 20s, smut, nsfw, handjobs, exhibitionism, praise kink, college!au, gn!reader, roommate!denji.

“denji…”

“uhuh— i mean, uh, yeah?”

“has anyone told you, you’ve got such a pretty cock?”

you feel the entirety of denji’s length twitch within your hold— his head full of sunshine blonde hair falling back on the wall you’ve caged him against. your fingers are soft, pillowy around his thick shaft and your thumb presses to his leaky slit curiously, watching his face for a reaction. “y-you’d be the first…ah—fuck!” denji whimpers, golden brown eyes falling away from the world as you give your wrist an experimental flick, testing the waters on what you can do to him. “that’s nice…that’s real nice.”

you giggle, his precum oozing into the seat of your palm the more you start to jerk him off in the right space of aki’s bathroom. “yeah? i want you to feel good, denji.” you doubt that your roommates would want to be woken up by slick sounds and whiny whistle tone moans, so you step forward and reach out into the dark— pressing your lips against your boyfriend’s in a slow, syrupy kiss.

it’s adorable how he chases the warmth of your mouth, like a moth drawn to a candle flame, when you pull away to check the door only briefly. “come back, baby…please,” he pleads while he feverishly fucks your hand as if he’ll never get the chance to do so again. “feels good when you’re close…when you kiss me ‘n you use…shit, y-your t-tongue on me!” pleading turns to soggy, pathetic whimpers that are muffled by your tongue as you push your way back into denji’s mouth to shut him up.

you make denji feel like he’s going fucking insane, desire ripping through is chest, lewd squelching noises from his cock bleeding arousal all over your hand overlaying his soundtrack of moans and tongue lapping over tongues. opaque white slings around your knuckles as it drips from his creamy tip, only serving to guide your fist up and down his throbbing a little easier — as if it were a makeshift flesh light.

he really is so cute like this — pliant and needy underneath you, his body seizing up at your sensual ministrations and his skin shiny with sweat under the moonlight. the chainsaw devil can’t help but hiccup loudly despite how you pacify him with sweet, loving smooches. tears slip down the apples of his cheeks and track salt along your tongue too where they land at the corner of denji’s mouth. “you look so pretty with your cock in my hand,” praise for denji comes easily to you — he deserves to be cherished, to know that he’s good and loved. squeezing the base of his length, you push your thumb through his seedy slit just to see him cry, circling his bright red and mushroomed cockhead in order to lube him up more.

a pink flush blossoms across the expanse of his milky skin with every pump of his dick and his his head falls back against the wall with a dull thud. you lick your lips at the sight of his adam’s apple bobbing and his body shuddering, revealing to the naked eye just how desperate denji truly is.

“do you think you could cum for me, denji?”

the stutter in his hips tells you the answer, but you want a verbal one anyways — so for a moment, you stop palming his dripping wet cock and wait for his response.

“well?”

“please, i can do it,” he pants, eager to please — his honey brown eyes crazed and delirious. “j-just call me pretty again. ‘nd i promise i’ll—“

even with his back pressed right up against the wall and his shoulders quivering in anticipation of his impending high — denji still towers over you. so you stand on your tippy toes, languidly flicking your wrist to get him off, in order to whisper your command into the shell of his ear. “make a mess for me, pretty boy.” you simper, mouth falling open to mock his moans like you’re right on the edge with him.

denji cums with a shout and his release spills into your spoiled palm like a stream of molten igneous rock, painting your knuckles a gooey white. you have to cover his mouth with your remaining hand, muffling any sounds that escape him since his brain quite literally short circuits, reducing the poor blonde to nothing but tears and brainless babbles.

you do your best to keep him quiet while he twitches through the aftershocks — after all, it would be a shame if some else got to see your pretty boy blushing with his cock out.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[theres-a-body-here]

Recieving a love letter

Part two

You decided that the best time to give it to them (pause) is during a trial

Characters: Oni, Trapper, Deathslinger, Mastermind, Cannibal, Ghostface Warnings: Internalized Homophobia, Death, some spice Male!reader

The Oni - Kazan Yamaoka

Impossible... You're both men

Kazan cannot accept this

This simply wasn't acceptable during his era

He immediately smashes your head in with his Kanabo on instinct

Gay panic defense

The evil has been dealt with, Kazan lets out a deep exhale

But...his eyes wander to the letter, still within your cold, stiff grasp

Advantages come from all angles... Don't they?

Kazan takes the letter, convincing himself he'll use whatever information he finds inside against you

It smells like you... Not that he checked

(He did)

A red wax seal holds the letter closed

Kazan looks closer

You had carved his family crest into the wax

Something foreign invades his body, something other than rage

It's nervousness

He opens the letter, making sure to keep the seal intact

For no reason in particular

(He's pocketing that mofo)

Instantly, he's impressed by your penmanship

So organized, clean, and sharp

But its contents are even more eye catching

The love letter is short and sweet

But what follows is even sweeter

A haiku

Kazan feels his heart skip a beat

He checks it once, then again, and one more for good measure

Yep, no mistakes

The loud pop of a gen echoes through the trialground, snapping him out of his trance

Kazan whips his head all around, looking for witnesses

Finding none, he pockets the letter

He stares at your lifeless body, feeling something else flutter in his chest

Guilt

The Trapper - Evan MacMillan

Evan stares at you as you hold your letter out for him to take

After a long, uncomfortable silence, he takes it

He brings it to his face, inspecting it through the holes of his mask

Evan has absolutely no idea what to do here

He looks back at you

"Do you...want me to fuck you?"

Romantic gestures are new territories for Evan, so he honestly thinks this is just your way of asking for dick

Whichever the case, he has a job to do

He puts you down without hesitation and hooks you up, leaving without a second glance

He's still holding the letter

Part of him wants to rip it up, and the other is curious to know what you wrote

He sloppily tears the letter open, reading it hastily as he walks to the next gen

Evan stops when he reads a bit more

You weren't asking for a ball slapping, eye watering, toe curling, deep dick fuck...

You were asking for his heart

You wanted all of him, hooks and all

Okay now he feels a bit bad

Evan reads some more

You actually drew a portrait of him within the letter, saying you learnt of his knack for art from Philip

Now he feels even worse

He lets the others save you without hiccup

In fact, he basically leaves for alone for the rest of the trial

He stops chasing and hurting the others occasionally to stare at you from afar, observing that focused look on your face as you work on gens or heal a teammate

Evan feels butterflies and he no longer has the strength to swat at them

It doesn't matter if he kills all your friends or if they opened the gates and left; Eventually, you're alone with him

He holds your letter out, watching as confusion sets on your face

"I'm dirty and sloppy... I'll ruin it"

He sounds vulnerable, waiting for you to respond

You curl your hand over his, folding the letter into his palm

"I want you to keep it," you say softly, as of talking to an apprehensive deer

He doesn't know what to say

Whatever he was going to respond with gets stuck in his throat as you lean in to kiss the cheek of his mask

He watches as you leave through the exit gate, glancing down at the letter in his hand

The Deathslinger - Caleb Quinn

Obviously you're joking... Right?

Cuz there's no way you'd be attracted to someone like him— Old, beat-up, and grumpy

You'd have to push him some more if you want him to accept the letter

Convince him you're being genuine

Eventually, he gives in and takes the letter from you

He glances around nervously, like he's expecting the other survivors to jump out and laugh at him for falling for the joke

He opens the letter, stunned when he sees there's actually things written inside

A blush creeps into his face as he reads, only deepening when he reads more

After he's done, Caleb can't even meet your gaze

After a few moments of silence, he speaks

"I can.....uhhh....keep this... right?"

Talk about awk as hell

Even after the trial, he lies awake thinking about it

Caleb rereads the letter over and over

You're gonna have to be the one to seek him out outside of trials since he's way too embarrassed now

"Yer serious 'bout this, ain'tcha?"

He decides to let his guard down just a bit to let you in

Be prepared to give him lots of reassurance

"Yer sure ya ain't mistaken?"

Caleb isn't one for words, so instead of writing you a letter, he makes you trinkets out of scrap metal

If you kiss him as thanks, he'll actually die on the spot

So please don't... unless you're evil as hell

The Mastermind - Albert Wesker

Wesker makes you kneel as you give him the letter

After snatching it out of your hands, he scans it meticulously

"I see you've made eleven spelling mistakes"

He enjoys the way you tense up instantly, like a puppy waiting to be put on punishment

"How adorable"

He ALLOWS you to watch him put the letter in his inner coat pocket

He would never admit it, but this certainly boosted his ego to new heights

Albert lifts you off the ground and tosses you over his shoulder

He carries you to the basement

"Stay here while I deal with your companions"

He leaves to kill the rest of your friends

After every hook, he pats his chest to make sure the letter is still there

He'll deny he ever did that if you ask him though

Once he returns, Wesker will bombard you with questions, expecting an answer within 5 seconds or less

What took you so long? What do you like most about him? Would you choose him over your friends? How can you satisfy him?

He loves how easily you crumble under his interrogation, blushing and stammering like a fool

Once he's had his fill, he picks you up again

He carries you to hatch

Before he lets you go, he grips your chin and makes you look at him

"I suppose I ought to leave you with something"

Wesker reaches into his coat and pulls out a pair of sunglasses

"I hope you can explain this to your allies," he chuckles

Before you can protest, he puts them on you and drops you into the hole

The Cannibal - Bubba Sawyer

Freezes in place and gasps when he sees you hold out your letter

He lets out a happy squeal before dropping his hammer and chainsaw to the ground

Bubba takes the letter from you gently, treating it like glass

He immediately plops onto the ground

He tears open the envelope carefully and take out the letter

He's completely forgotten about the trial

He reads the letter, shaking with excitement

It's sappy, sweet, and everything he's ever wanted

Even when the sounds of popping generators ring through the trial grounds, Bubba doesn't take his eyes off the letter for a second

He occasionally stops reading to either make a sound of happiness or cover his face out of embarrassment

Once he's finished, Bubba will stand up and pull you into a bone-crushing hug, lifting you up a bit and swaying you around like a ragdoll

You're definitely leaving this trial unharmed

He grabs your hand tightly, marching over to the hatch or exit gates and lets you leave with a goofy wave

The Entity doesn't even punish him for it since his joy was so great it made up for the lack of bad emotions from the survivors

He immediately works on writing a letter for you after the trial is over

The next time you see him, expect another bear hug followed by a letter being shoved in your face

It's messy, sticky, and covered in glitter

Crudely drawn hearts cover the inside as the letters are shaky and almost intelligible

But you can tell Bubba put his whole heart into it

The Ghostface - Danny Johnson

Instantly smug as hell

"Oh, what's that? That for me?"

He takes it from you and immediately tears it open, tossing the envelope behind him nonchalantly

His mask moves as he visibly reads through the letter, occasionally chuckling and shaking his head

Danny finds this scenario so fucking funny— A survivor having a crush on a killer

After he's done, he looks up at you

"Do you have daddy issues or something?'

He laughs loudly when he sees a hurt expression flash across your face, walking over to wrap an arm around your shoulders

"I'm just messing with ya, cutie"

Danny marches over with his head high to one of the hooked survivors, waving the letter in their face

You stand to the side awkwardly, unable to meet your friend's bewildered look

"Your homeboy is down bad for me. Whaddya think about that?"

The survivor grits their teeth struggling to keep the Entity's claw from puncturing their chest

"I think....Gah!...they.... have daddy issues...fuck!"

"THATS WHAT I SAID!"

You're never living this down

He goes around the map showing off your love letter to the others

After he finishes gloating, Danny hooks you

What? He's the Entity's favorite! He can't his reputation be tarnished

Outside of the trial, he follows you around like a shadow

He deadass interrupts your conversations with the others to tell you he wants attention, and you'd better deliver

Your love letter was basically an invitation for him to claim you as his own, whether you regret it or not

You're his now

Like a housecat that swats at others who get too close to their owner

"That kiss factory better be open, pookie"

He says shit like this in front of any survivor or killer

[tojisun]

simon ghost riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; extended foreplay teehee (fingering); mentioned switching

simon hums, the sound rumbling from the base of his throat. you startle, your eyes ripping open and you swivel to turn to him, forgetting, for a moment, that he's here.

that he's been watching you.

he smirks like he noticed; knowing him, he definitely did. still, it makes you self-conscious and you go to shut your legs close, hoping to shield yourself from his gaze, but simon moves so quickly, his warm palm landing on the inside of your thigh to push it down.

"no-"

"shh," he says. "y've got nothin' to be shy about, baby." he grins, all dangerous and mean. “we both know you've long crossed that bridge.”

you huff, rolling your eyes even when you let yourself be manhandled to the position he wants you in—spread open for him; presented for him.

he rumbles in pleasure, eyes darkening in rippling desire.

"c'mon, pretty, girl," simon murmurs, his fingers tickling the sensitive expanse of your inner thigh, making you tremble. "y'were just showing me how you play w'yourself when i'm not around."

the reminder makes you hiccup, shyness creeping up in slow drawls. you feel warmth filling up your cheeks and you duck down, hiding away from the intensity of his honeyed eyes.

simon chuckles. “such a doll, aren’ya?”

you ignore him and the way his words make your face burn, choosing instead to return to what you were doing—your fingers trembling as they begin to tease along your folds again. the previous sensitivity that you were riding off of has petered away but it was so easy to re-spark it, especially now that simon is touching you. the loose hold he has on your ankle makes your skin thrum and you use the hyperawareness to ramp up the flicking desire into an explosion of untethering euphoria.

your fingers aren’t enough—simon made sure, after all, that your body can only ever cum because of him—but he’s so close. he’s watching you and you take advantage of the attention.

you moan his name, a breathy little thing that rasps itself out from the base of your throat.

“si- si-!”

there is something doctored in the way you mewl, but who can blame you? yes, you’re giving him something to watch, but you’re desperate for more. you try your best to rile him up because you’re desperate for his own fingers or, and this one truly makes your breath hitch, his cock.

simon’s beautiful, beautiful cock.

god, the way it curves. the way the head is pink because simon’s so pale all over. the way his pre- beads like pretty pearls, always has you lolingl your tongue out to catch them before they drip. the way his veins surround the expanse of his girth, drawing his cock to look so macho, especially when you close your first around it.

“fuck-!”

thinking about simon’s cock makes you even wetter, slick gathering between your fingers. you punch the length of them as deep as they can go, crooking them and spreading them apart as your orgasm begins to build, pooling in your belly, making your toes curl.

“simon, please!”

your moans are more honest this time. more truthful despite the pitch that they’ve taken.

“need y’r cock. need y- no!”

you tear your eyes open—you didn’t realize you’ve even shut them tight—at the feeling of simon’s fist closing around your wrist, holding it steady, making you freeze. the peak of your orgasm crumbles, your legs trembling at the feeling of having it be ripped from you.

“no!” you cry again, thrashing. “why’d you stop me?! wanna cum, please, baby? wanna cum, please!”

“shit, lovie,” simon rasps out, looking dishevelled himself. your eyes flick down to his waist and you realize, with a coo, that he’s taken his cock out to palm himself while watching you.

you bite down a smile at the realization—you’ve won.

“y’almost made me jealous of y’r pretty fingers,” he croaks. you track the way his chest heaves, his muscles and his pecs rippling underneath the tight shirt he’s wearing. “lemme fuck you now, yeah, baby? y’want that?”

you lick your bottom lip, trilling to yourself when simon’s sharp eyes zone in on the action and tracking it with vivid intensity.

you hum then, teasing, and you shake his hold off of your wrist which simon easily acquiesces. he watches as you pull your fingers out of your cunt, slow and deliberate, before presenting them to him, the length of them having a thin sheen because of your slick.

“lick f’r me?” is what you reply to him instead.

simon full body trembles before circling your wrist for the second time today. this time, though, with a different purpose. he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he drops his jaw open to take your fingers in.

you mewl at the same time that simon groans and, you wonder, if you can last another round after this. maybe you’d bring out your strap then.

[lunerabo]

Ask: Thinking about grabbing the back of geto's hair and face fucking him with a strap he's such a pretty boy and imo prefers being treated with more rough and degratory words but the aftercare he receives HAS to be the most loving heart-wrenching shit

quiet

cw: dom!AFAB!Reader, sub!Suguru, mean Reader, cockdrunk Suguru, fauxjob, rough face fucking, degradation, hair pulling, dacryphilia, praise, aftercare

You aren’t sure what it is that does it for him. It brings you no pleasure, nor him, yet it’s something he insists on whenever you have the opportunity for it. He’s filthy about it, slobbering and slurping and moaning around something you aren’t sure he still knows is fake. There’s a dazed look to him, one that pairs almost too well with the tongue that hangs from his open jaw every time he releases it to breathe, before going right back in and shoving it down his throat once again. He gags, you almost don’t even notice it for how well he maintains his enthusiasm.

You watch on in perverted fascination, gaze involuntarily fixed on his furrowed brow, his blush, his tears—and you’re overcome with the desire to force him to take even more. He could take it. And he would be eager about it, too, if his display of hunger for cock is anything to go by.

You buck—ripping from him a surprised gagging sound—a loud groan following closely behind, one that makes you quiver.

“You like this?”

He never quite takes his mouth away, only pulling away just enough to breathe comfortably through his nose, to form a single, breathy response:

“Mhm! M-mhm!”

You grab a fistful of his hair, yanking him back and forth on the fake cock jutting out from your pelvis. Eager and trembling hands find your thighs, square fingertips digging into the supple flesh for some semblance of support.

He cranes his neck and the strap bends, tugging at his top lip as he slides backward and gives you those eyes, those eyes that make you wish the cock were real so you could feel him convulse around its length and fuck your seed down his throat.

It’s so damn filthy, and so so embarrassing for a man like him to be put in a position like this, but that’s precisely what he gets out of it. It’s a different kind of high he chases, one that makes him feel like something to be used and discarded, made to do these things purely for the viewing pleasure of the one above him. A performer, putting on a private show for someone he favors.

“Mm, don’t you want my tongue on you for real?” He purrs, sliding large and firm hands over your thighs.

“Quiet,” you snarl, “it’s terribly poor manners to talk with your mouth full.”

And he goes so willingly, so easily pushed, despite how you pick up the pace and fuck into his mouth with a force that’s sure to leave him with unable to speak for a good long while. He sobs around it unable to resist taking hold of his cock and pumping furiously, hoping you’ll understand. You’re not that cruel, right?

But you inch your foot forward and press your toes down on his wrist, pinning it to the floor, bringing his whole body down a little ways. You’re not that cruel, right? Right?

“Greedy little thing. You better watch that hand, pretty one. Do your job, and keep taking it.”

He’s at a different angle now, looking upward, as you hunch over and fuck his throat.

Ah, that may have been a bit much, you think, as he taps your thigh firmly. But he doesn’t withdraw, instead encouraging you to keep at your previous pace, without skipping a beat. You appreciate the gesture, but you do worry that he may be overdoing it. You release his wrist from under your foot, nudging it between his legs as if to give him the okay to touch himself. He��s grateful, moaning loudly with his mouth full, squeezing his weeping tip.

He cums fast, nearly inhaling his own drool as he hiccups and slides off of your cock, thick and heavy strings of saliva slipping down his chin. He whines, hand covered in cum, trembling and dumb.

“Hey, you okay? Do you need a minute?” You ask, and his lack of response has you a little concerned. “Can I go grab a washcloth or do you need me here for a bit?”

“Go- yeah, go ahead.”

You rush, all hastened breaths and drumming fingers as the water heats. Hands steady again the closer you get to him, dabbing away at outstretched hands and quivering thighs.

“I think you might’ve forced yourself a little,” you comment, thumbs swiping away the spit on his chin and jaw. You punctuate the statement with a kiss on his forehead. He settles quickly, standing without you asking him to. A hand raises to gesture to his neck for all of a half second, and you’re already leading him to the kitchen, filling the kettle and choosing some leaves.

“You really don’t need to,” he tells you, only as loudly as his voice will now allow, and you hush him.

“It’s a good thing I want to, then. Take it, it’ll help your throat. As will the honey, so don’t complain about it being sweet.” Belatedly, you seize the opportunity. “… Honey.”

His eyes narrow as he processes, an amused frown pulling his lips taut.

“That was terrible.”

“I know. But you’re smiling aren’t you?”

“I’m smiling because we’re standing nude in a kitchen, making tea, and you crack a joke about honey.”

The absurdity does make you grin, you suppose. He’s not the only one turning a little pink now, and you can’t seem to stop yourself taking his hand in yours. His affection is returned easily and unrestrained, bringing you in and backing you into the edge of the counter to kiss you like there’s nothing else that might ever occupy his mind.

It’s a pleasant silence, one that slips into the small room and between you and warms the both of you despite frigid countertops and arctic air conditioning.

The kettle begins to whistle.

[ink-n-shadow]

i apologize now for writing this. the worms were just too strong

𝜗𝜚 cw: self indulgent smut (minors—DNI), mean!price, boot grinding, degradation, reader being a crybaby, slight dacryphilia?, reader is gn, heavy dom/sub vibes, unedited (per usual)

something something price punishing crybaby!reader by making them grind against his boot while he puffs on a cigar and finishes up the paperwork he's been putting off. doesn't even bat an eye at the fingernails raking down his calf, simply ashing off the end of his cigar with an uninterested grunt before flicking his gaze down to meet yours.

"told ya to wait 'til i was done with my bloody paperwork, didn't i?" he spits through his clenched jaw, tongue clicking against his teeth as he moves his attention away from the way your arousal is slicking against the leather toe of his boot and back to the boring reports littering his desk. "but y'didn't fuckin' listen—had to be a greedy little pet, huh? just had to cum, right? s'okay—go 'head and make y'self cum, baby."

and price continues working through report after report, ignoring the way your teary cheeks smear against his knees and the hiccuping sobs ripping through your chest as you chase after an orgasm that never crests fully. your hips are growing tired from trying to find a rhythm that feels the best, the throbbing between your legs becoming mindnumbing as you mewl out apologies to price in a feeble attempt to get him to help you.

but he simply shakes his head stiffly, finishing off the last bit of his cigar smoke with a large cloud of tobacco smoke as he cruelly rubs the laces of his boots against your practically swollen arousal. "thought you wanted to cum, pet? s'what y'been beggin' for all day—can't do it on your own? can't do anythin' without my help? such a fuckin' baby."

[mrkis]

back arched like a cat. (m.l)

PAIRING: mark lee x reader GENRE: smut WORD COUNT: 1k

SYNOPSIS: kitchen sex with mark lee

CONTENT WARNINGS: explicit content (18+), unprotected sex, kitchen sex, creampie, spanking, oral (female receiving), cum eating, dirty talk, cocky mark

AN| i'm not ok. i'll never recover from that mv. fuck (me) you mark lee. also, this is briefly based off the song 'stargirl interlude' by the weeknd and lana del rey. also, again, this is a quick piece because i was desperate.

You’re gasping for air, whiny moans fleeting past your lips as your fingernails scrape across the kitchen counter in search to grasp onto something to keep you stable, knowing you would’ve definitely crumbled to your knees if it wasn’t for Mark’s tight grip on your waist, his hips pistoning into yours at a speed that has your legs shaking from the force.

Tears spring in your eyes as Mark’s hand drags to the bottom of your spine, pushing down to arch your back further into him, allowing him to reach deeper places inside of you that have your toes curling as a cry rips from the back of your throat.

Mark’s chest rumbles with a grunt with each thrust of his hips, leaning over your body to mouth at the bare skin of your shoulder from where your tank top strap had slipped down during the fun, teeth nipping around the area. 

Your cheek is pressed to the countertop, panting heavily against the marble tiles as Mark abuses your pussy, his other hand slipping down from your waist to dip between your legs, nimble fingers rubbing circles around your sensitive clit. 

Your thighs squeeze around his hand with a wail and you hear Mark chuckle next to your ear, clearly enjoying how you’re reacting to him. He licks the shell of your ear as he feels your thighs quiver and your walls clamp around his cock, causing him to moan deeply.

“You like that? Hm?” Mark questions with a taunting hum. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around me. You really like getting fucked like this? In the kitchen where we eat?” He laughs as he sees you nod frantically. “Dirty girl𑁋fuck, I love it so much. Love it when you’re like this, taking my cock so well. That’s it, baby”

“Ma𑁋rk” You hiccup through salty tears, drool slipping past your lips as your body jolts with every movement, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the kitchen. He’s giggling behind you now, gripping your ass cheeks and sending a few playful slaps that has your mind whirling.

“So pretty bent over for me like this. So gorgeous. Fuck, you’re so wet” Mark rambles as he pounds his cock into your walls that spasm around him with each forceful thrust. You’re fully crying now, a blubbering mess at the pleasure and euphoria that buzzes through your veins, sending a thrill down your spine when Mark slaps your ass again. 

“‘I𑁋shit𑁋I’m gonna𑁋” You cut yourself off with a gasp, knocking the dishes on the drying rack as you try to reach for something to keep yourself grounded as the pleasure in the pit of your belly tightens. “Fuck!”

“Yeah? You gonna cum?” Mark asks you and you pathetically nod your head. He grins, “Me too. Can I cum inside? Fill this pussy up? Do you want that, baby? Hm?”

“Please!” You plead, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Fill me up, Mark. Make me yours”

“Silly girl” Mark chuckles, leaning over your body once more to kiss the back of your neck. “You are mine”

Those simple words were enough to have you coming undone with a cry, coating his cock that fucks you through your orgasm, praising you as his hands stroke down your back but the sloppiness of his movements is enough for you to know what’s about to come next and you welcome it immediately, whining as he fills you up with his cum, shivering as you feel it leak out and drip down your thighs.

Your legs quiver as Mark pulls out of you, giving you no time to react as he spins you around to face him, crashing his mouth to yours in a heated kiss. His palms are flat against your cheeks, fingertips pressing into your skin to hold you to him as his tongue mingles with yours, grunting in your mouth as your teeth graze his tongue, chuckling between the kiss as he feels your hands desperately fist at his shirt.

But he takes a step back, smiling as he sees you chase his lips and hooks his arms beneath your thighs to lift you upwards, settling you down on the countertop behind yourself. You hiss as your base ass meets the cold tiles, wincing at the slight sting but you quieten when you watch Mark drops down to his knees in front of you, littering soft kisses around your inner thighs before he lurches forwards to shove his tongue between your folds, licking up at the mess he had created between your legs.

His name comes panting from your lips and you thread your fingers through his messy hair, grabbing needily at him to tug him even closer as he tastes you, lapping at your pussy with the most animalistic grunt you have ever heard rumble from his chest.

His tongue swirls around your sensitive clit and your thighs jerk around his head with a whine as you try to lean back from his touch but the grip he has on your legs forces you to remain still and a cry leaves you lips as he drags you closer to his face, not caring if he’s driving you into oversensitivity as he’s too busy lapping at you hungrily, your arousal and his cum lathering on his tongue.

“Taste so sweet” He moans between your folds, eyes lifting up to meet yours and his brows raises suggestively at you, “Always taste so sweet for me”

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

[shirakow]

At first it was a gofundme to get him to start an onlyfans. Which started as taking pictures of him in revealing outfits, to him being shirtless, to being in his underwear—you could guess what else happened.

And then came the moment you recommended something else entirely that had his eyes widen. “A… Camboy?”

“Mmh… Ngh…” Kenma moaned into the gag as tears soaked the blindfold he wore. Your big hands gripping his hips tightly as you gently fucked your cock into his boy hole.

Your eyes glanced at the stream he set up, watching as the comments flooded with donations about what you should do or say to your pretty boyfriend. “They're all calling you cute, baby.” You cooed and unclasped the gag around his mouth to let him speak.

“And what do grateful boys say?” You said as you delivered a harsh thrust to his quivering hole. Kenma whined and drooled, gripping the bed sheets tightly as his tongue lolled out. “Aaahh—thank you, t-thank… You… Agh…!~” He moaned, trying to bury his face into the bed.

You shushed him and gently grasped his chin to force him to look up at the camera. Usually, you'd be pulling his hair, but since he was wearing a wig you had to improvise.

We couldn't have the famous Kodzuken getting revealed as a part time adult film maker.

“Ah ah ah… Come on, be a good boy and show them how much you're enjoying this…” You whispered, making sure to keep your face out of frame as you fucked him stupid.

“N-Nooo…! This is… Embarrassing…” Kenma cried. Despite his words, he moved his hips back to meet your thrusts. Your actions were making him go insane. He wanted you deeper, he wanted to keep you in his belly for hours and hours on end.

“The viewers don't think that… They think you're so good, so hot for taking my cock like this, yeah?” You said as you gave his reddening cheeks a light spank.

He mewled at the praise and shook his head, “O-Ohhh…!” Kenma sobbed as his back arched and thighs shook under him at the stinging pain on his ass. You snickered and gently let his head lay back down on the bed.

You placed your hands on either side of his head and momentarily stopped moving your hips to spread his thighs further with the use of your knees. You grinded your pelvis against his, taking a moment to enjoy how his hole squeezed around you.

“M-Movvee…” Kenma hiccuped as he reached back to spread his ass. You bit your bottom lip at the sight, who could ever deny him of anything? You pulled your hips back and thrusted in harshly.

The tip of your cock hit his prostate which caused Kenma to sob and convulse as his orgasm was ripped out of him. He babbled incoherent nonsense when you kept moving, fucking him through his climax.

Kenma released his cheeks and moved to grip the bed sheets as he cried. His tiny dick leaking with pre while his toes curled at the overstimulation. Kenma choked on his moans as you steadily approached your own orgasm.

“Oh, baby… They love hearing you moan… They love hearing you be so good for them…” You tilted your head back and pulled out from his warmth, only to grind your aching red cock against his cheeks and proceeded to cum all over his sweaty back.

You groaned loudly and bit your bottom lip at the sight of your boyfriend completely wrecked below you. You glanced back at the live stream and chuckled when the donations skyrocketed.

You leant down and gently grasped his chin to face the camera once more. “Now, what do you say to the viewers?” You whispered into his ear, the bottom half of your face visible in the camera.

Kenma sniffled and shakily threw up a peace sign, “F-Follow me… For more… Nyah…~”

© SHIRAKOW ㅤ; ㅤnot proofread, also I'm working on the requests ! I just had to post something now, I'm sorry my lovelies <3

ㅤ

[sugurizz]

(SMUT/NSFW +18 - Minors DNI)

ANNOYING HIM JUST FOR FUN ✧ Feat. Toji Fushiguro

Synopsis ── You got bored and felt like the best option would be to mess around and piss him off. Just for personal amusement.

Contents ── established relationship (Gf!reader x Bf! Toji), anger, reader badmouthing/ being a brat, degradation, insults (slut, bitch etc..), rough spanking, unprotected sex.

He was laying over your shared bed on a quaint night, scrolling through his phone waiting for you to join him in to sleep just as you were used to. But to his surprise you stepped into the room, got your pillow and exited the bedroom in the most casual manner you could display.

The annoyed groan he let out as soon as you turned your back caught your ears, and you couldn't deny how prideful you felt right at that moment, a glorious smirk threatning shape your lips upwards.

'Where tha hell ya think you're goin' ?

'Sleep'. You etched a dry reply. Not even looking him in the eyes.

'Don't know what yer on about but better come back here, missy'. He rasped with a hint of menace, his glance still locked on you.

'Oopsie. Sorry but not taking orders from you tonight, old man.'

You let out with the brattiest tone, chuckling provokingly on your way out of the bedroom. Hell the the brief moment of your inner brat celebrating its victory was cut short as you felt a calloused hand pull on your arm.

He turned you around to face him, darkened eyes stearing dead down into yours .

'Oh ya do know where this kinda attitude leads ya. Dont'cha?'

You coax your arm out of his grasp, eyes still glued to the ground. And he responds by pinning you whole against the wall, tho trying his best not to break one of your bones in the process.

'Guess I need to teach ya again. Tiny lil' brain of yours got a hard time learning the rules doesn't it, huh?'

'Fuck you.'

'Say again?'

You knew you just crossed the line. And you knew you were too deep into your silly little game now. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his face suddenly go empty, eyes stoic and expressionless. Not a sound skipped his lips later, but his hand brought your chin up, starring dead into his eyes.

Your chest swelled with all kinds of merged sensations. the fear overlapped with a witty arousal that powerfully grew down your abdomen. But screw it. You weren't backing off anyway, you chose to go toe to toe with your scary beast of a boyfriend and you were about to take the consequences like a champ.

And so you did... just in the most pathetic way possible. Each smack of his palm landing over your ass ripped into that little attitude of yours, leaving your heated face smeared with your own snot and salty tears.

You'd lie if you said you didn't like your face down against the mattress and your ass up facing his wrath. But soon enough he got you breaking down to tears, babbling all kinds of ridiculous nonsense and drooling over his lap like a braindead slut.

'Fuck! W-wait! T-Toji...s-too much, AH!' You let out the loudest moans your chocked cries could allow you to, tho your throat tensed so much from the stingy pain.

'Nah. Now arch dat back properly, fucking bitch.' His other arm slithered and wrapped around your neck in a headlock, keeping you still just so that every nerve under your skin could taste his sweet furious whacks.

'Toji! Fuck...p-please...it hurts!' Your mewly sobs filled the room, the choked hiccups and endless pleas only seemed to widen the wicked grimace on his face.

'heh. Go'head. mouth off again! Dying to hear ya.' He raised an eyebrow, challenging you to live up to the untamable brat you thought you were. Yet your drunk brain could barely discern his words at that moment.

Your eyes closed shut in defeat, almost passing out on the pain your poor asschecks endured. You could'nt quite formulate a response, but your tiny sobs had him lifting you off his lap with a false pity.

'Aww would ya look at dat. Figured out woudln't last long. Ya wanted me wrecking the shit outta yer ass from the start didn't ya?'

You gave him a dizzy glance and nodded, tongue lolling out of breath.

'Aw ya nasty thing. Could'a asked respectfully like the lil slut ya are ..but here we are again. Heh.'

He flipped you over and tossed you on the bed, pulling his sweatpants off his cock and pushing the damp fabric of your thong to the side. The sticky ropes coating your pussy lips riled him up further.

'Shit, Yer so fucking wet it's gross.' He shoved his thick middle and ring inside, giving you a few pumps before his length fully barged in, with no prior warning.

'Aghh... The fuck yer so tight for? Spanking yer ass got yer cunt this damn slimy, huh?..' he groans deep, thick fingers almost piercing into your buttcheeks as he throbbed inside.

'Toji...mhhh w-wait!' You squealed out, eyes going teary from the thick untrusion bullying through your guts.

'Oh shut it.' He spat and pressed a palm into the small of your back 'Ya knew you wanted cock, princess, nice and rough as you could have it.'

He pushed a low grunt and bottomed in. flashing you the nastiest grin before he started beating into your hole merciless...

[tyunlewd]

Can you write about mean Dom Theo please 😭

waterpark

theo x fem!reader smut

warning(s): mean dom theo (duh), name calling, overstimulation, dacryphilia, squirting (sorry), pussy slapping, mention of piss but it’s not like a kink, wholesome fluffy moments at the end.

note(s); sorry this took 272837 years to write!! i’ve been on a txt kick but i had a stroke (giggles) of genius :3 also i noticed a piwon fic writers on this platform have been SLACKING so i’m here to deliver.

“c’mon, pretty girl. one more for me,” theo rasps in your ear.

he holds your legs apart with one hand while his dominant hand is jerking in and out of your stretched cunt at break-neck speed. you shake your head, face growing red in embarrassment and shame. you can’t do another. this would be your third orgasm, maybe your fourth–your mind was so cloudy you’d forgotten to keep count.

you sort of wriggle, your body subconsciously trying to pull away from his overstimulating touch, but you want it so bad. you feel your throat go tight and tears well up in your eyes from the sheer pleasure and borderline pain. you shake your head.

“no. can’t do it, it hurts,” you whine, hiccuping through the sentence as you try to hold back tears.

theo clicks his tongue at you. he shakes his head disapprovingly, not slowing the pumping of his fingers as he stares down at you, condescension leaking from his gaze and down to his mouth where he degrades you.

“you can. you’ll take my fingers and cum like a good slut is supposed to.”

you shake your head again but before you can protest any more he harshly rips his fingers out of you and slaps your weeping cunt harshly. your body jolts fron the impact. he lands another smack in the same place, not skipping a beat when he shoves his fingers right back where they were, pace unrelenting.

this rips a cry out of you, full tears rolling down your red, flustered cheeks. theo smiles when he sees this, managing to speed his fingers impossibly quicker. you’re not sure how he manages to do this with only his fingers, but you feel the tips of his digits prod at your cervix.

“why’re you crying, baby?” he asks.

you want to tell him it’s because it feels so good it hurts, that it feels like this next approaching orgasm is going to rip you in half, but this is a hypothetical question. if you even wanted to answer, you don’t think you could form a long enough sentence through your tears.

you grab his wrist when you feel your orgasm start to build up in the pit of your stomach. you arch your back so far off the bed that he starts losing hold of you. he pushes down on your abdomen to keep you down. the pressure you feel now in your lower stomach from his hand is delicious and you reach up and cover your face.

“lemme see that pretty face of yours,” theo urges. “i wanna see what face you make when you cum again.”

“no, it’s too-“ you choke back a cry. “it’s too much, it hurts, i’m-“

“shut the fuck up and take it.”

he punctuates his demands with another slap to your clit. you sob when he keeps his hand there, rubbing your clit in quick, rushed circles while his fingers continue their harsh pace inside you. you’re close.

“oh my god,”

you smack the bed underneath you, gripping the sheets no longer being enough. the pressure in your stomach feels unlike anything you’ve ever felt before an orgasm, and you begin to panic, despite your fast-approaching release.

“wait!” you cry, “i’m- oh my god i’m gonna-“

“yeah? cum for me. do it.”

you shake your head, but before you can get another word out, you cum, hard. your vision blurs as the waves of pleasure wrack through and shakes your whole body. you feel your orgasm through your whole body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, you tingle with pleasure.

as you slow your breathing, you feel something wet underneath you, something far more wet than just cum. you wonder if your boyfriend’s gone and started cleaning you up, but you realize he hasn’t when he begins rubbing the backs of your thighs, still propped open.

you chance a look down and see everything down by your lower half soaked. the bed sheets, the pillows, even theo’s gray pajama pants. covered in liquid. it looks like somebody tossed a water balloon at your pelvis. what the fuck. you panic now. you immediately assume that you fucking peed.

“oh my god. did i- jesus, i’m so sorry,” you apologize.

you begin to sit up, but theo’s eyes are trained on your still leaking pussy. you brace yourself for a mean comment or perhaps the break up, but it doesn’t come. you watch theo lean down and press kisses to your inner thighs before he sticks his tongue out and laps up the mess between your legs.

you jolt at the harsh feeling, but theo pulls away this time. he keeps rubbing your thighs. he smiles, leaning up and pressing a long, loving kiss to your lips.

“sorry for what? you did so good for me.”

he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, admiring your face. he wipes the drying tears from your cheeks with his thumb. you look at him, confused.

“but i like, i dunno. i peed or something, that’s so gross.”

“baby you squirted,” he laughs, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“oh shit. didn’t know i could do that.”

“it was hot.”

you smile. you reach up and cup his face in your hands, kissing his forehead. he returns the kiss before moving off of you and climbing out of bed. he stands up and offers a hand to you to help you up and out of bed.

“i can run us a bath?”

[tojisun]

https://x.com/h6rnybish/status/1738343652999467268?s=46&t=dQdAclJh9_X4qFDs38sC_Q

P LINK!!!

but this is so bimbo reader and Simon coded im1)1?2)26262626

p link - WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK IM ACTUALLY SWEATING??? HOLY SHIT!!! no yea that is bimbo!reader getting fucked by simon <333

this is too good that i might just… (😭)

!! smut - minors dni; female reader

simon slips the pad of his thumb past your plush lips, feeling along the front of your teeth, before pushing down on your tongue to make your jaw fall open. he hears your confused hum, the sound of your voice petering into a broken moan, and simon huffs a fond laugh even as he ruts his pelvis closer to yours, digging his cock even further in your tight walls.

“look at you, princess,” simon murmurs, breathless in wonder and awe, as he pistons his hips in languid thrusts. your ankles are hooked on his shoulders, your legs pushed close to your chest and spread apart just enough to frame your pretty bouncing tits.

simon groans at the sight they make, and the hand cupping your jaw trails teasing touches past your face before coming to squeeze at your tits. he flicks at your pebbled nipples and moans when you clench around him even tighter, a hiccupped sob rumbling from the base of your throat.

“si- hah!- simmy, please, move faster!”

your hands squeeze his shoulders, scratching at taut muscles when another slow grind of simon’s cock teases your pleasure points, rapidly sending electric tingles along your synapses before dying out just as quickly because it’s not enough.

needmoreneedmore-

“shh,” simon replies, pinching your nipples as he says this; it’s not really a punishment but it does make your eyes flutter up to meet his gaze. his hips stutter just a bit when he sees tears clump your lashes together, and simon almost whispers an apology. almost.

“be patient f’r me, sweets,” is what simon coos instead. “i promised you, din’i? that i’ll take care of you?”

“mhmm,” you reply, the hum so vulnerable and quiet that simon couldn’t help but croon again, his possessive touch gliding along your ribs and down to your stomach where he flicks at the jewelled stud in your bellybutton, before ghosting his thumb just above your clit.

you gasp at the muted brush, clenching even tighter in anticipation. you bat your lashes up at simon again, kiss-swollen lips jutting out in a pout, and even though you aren’t talking, simon can practically hear you begging.

and, well, he’s always been weak for you, isn’t he, sweet girl?

the first brush of his thumb on your clit makes you choke, the sound coming out in garbles, before you’re throwing your head further back into the pillows as a squeal is ripped from your throat. your toes curl from where they are braced on either side of simon’s head, your pretty tits bouncing even more as you heave in pleasure, and simon almost goes limp at the euphoria razing through him as slick gushes along his length, the telltale of your building orgasm piercing through him in waves.

jesus-

simon bumps his head along the tender slope of your leg, trying to catch his own breath.

see? aren’t you just a perfect match for him?

BITING A ROCK ISNT ENOUGH I NEED TO BE SHOT INTO THE MOON!!!! AHHHHHH1!:&2&$:@2$:

‘simmy’ is stuck now being readers nickname for simon <3

[starlightsuffered]

Cuck in the Corner

Info - cucking, dark regulus, nerdy Barty, kidnapping via magic, cnc, dub con, fucking in front of someone, making someone watch, first time doing oral, uncut cock, anal, use of the word sodomy, humiliation, small mention of breeding kink

Regulus had been asking me obnoxious questions ever since I’d began dating Barty. Regulus and I had once been a thing, but I’d broken up with him when he’d taken the Dark Mark. I wished he would be loyal enough to pick me over that group of degenerates.

We’d hooked up a couple times since the break up. He always said that it was a mistake afterward. I would tell him I completely agreed, but in my heart I didn’t. I wished he plead for me back, want me enough to denounce the Dark Lord, and just be my Regulus again. He wasn’t mine anymore.

I had completely stopped the hook ups and decided to start going out with Barty Crouch. Barty was pretty nice and to my knowledge he wasn’t involved with the Death Eaters. When I’d turned Regulus down for a hook up last week, he had begun the questions.

“Have you and Barty had sex?”

“Is he uncut like me?”

“Has he made you cum?”

“Is he dominant?”

“Why are you moving so slow”

I tried not to answer them anymore. He would get these obnoxious, but sexy smirks when I commented on how slow we were moving. I pretended I liked it. Honestly, I didn’t. I was very sexual and it was killing me that Barty wanted to take things so slowly. I tried to convince myself that it was a good thing.

“Hello darling,” came a crooning voice. I opened my eyes. I was in Regulus’s Prefect dorm. He had his own room. I’d been in this bed many times, but I didn’t remember coming here this time.

I looked up to see my beautiful ex over me. His green/grey eyes were glittering with excitement. I heard a whimpering sound. I looked over to the corner and I saw Barty.

My boyfriend was chained to the wall. He was wandless and his mouth was tapped shut. He was in a gorgeous and likely extremely expensive chair.

“Regulus, what the fuck is happening?” I snarled.

“You told me you aren’t getting dick anymore, I thought you’d enjoy me giving Barty a tutorial of how to treat you,” he smirked.

“Excuse me?”

“Admit it, you want my thick, uncut, juicy cock,” he purred and a thrill did indeed go through me.

“Regulus,” I breathed. He smiled devilishly.

“You miss my seven inches don’t you?” He asked.

“B-Barty has eight inches,” I stuttered.

“Yet where is your hand?” Regulus asked me. I hadn’t even realised that my fingers were in the waistline of his pants. I felt wetness gathering in my pussy.

Regulus pulled his wand out and both our clothes were gone. His eyes devoured my body greedily. He licked his lips. His dick was already wet.

“You want my cock don’t you?” He asked.

“Yes,” I said without thinking.

“Then I guess cuck boy will watch me fuck you,” he said darkly and shoved himself inside me. I moaned. He was snapping his hips and the familiar warm lust filled me up.

He was ramming his dick deep inside me. I could already feel how much he leaked with precum, his uncut cock making it so much easier for it to drool.

“Tell him how good it feels,” Regulus demanded as he watched my fingers curl into the sheets.

“I’m s-sorry Barty,” I hiccuped. “I can’t help it. It feels so good. I just ohhhh, I just love it.”

“Yeah, you love it,” he goaded. I was whining. I was curling my toes. My nails ripped down his back.

Why did it turn me on that Barty was struggling. He was weeping in his bonds. I was wild. I’d admittedly never felt this good.

“You love my dick?” He asked.

“I fucking love your dick,” I sobbed.

“Maybe he is bigger, but he isn’t uncut. Every one of my precum drips is laden with precum. I could get you pregnant on fucking accident.”

“Yes yes, FUCKING YEs!”

I was lost in feeling. My nails clawed his back and he didn’t seem to mind that I was hurting him.

“You watching Barty? Huh, are you watching me fill her up cuck?” He asked. I shuddered all over at the word. That’s what we were doing. We were cucking someone.

“This is so wrong,” I whined.

“But it’s so fucking sexy. I bet you would have even made him wear a condom. I know you let me inside raw,” Regulus crooned.

The wet sounds were filling the room, overpowering any sound Barty made in protest. Regulus had always gotten wet but this was insane. I could tell he was extremely turned on and so was I.

“Her pussy feels so good Barty. She couldn’t help but cuck you. She can’t resist me,” Regulus explained as his cock moved faster inside me.

“Make eye contact with him. I want him to see the moment I unload inside you.

I wrapped my legs around Regulus’s waist. I managed to look over into my boyfriend’s eyes. He looked horrified. Fuck, why was that hot? Why did I like shocking people with perversion.

“She feels amazing Barty. Her snug cunt. It feels so good around my big cock. You’ll never fucking get this cuck,” Regulus groaned.

“Watch me fuck her Barty. Sit in the fucking corner and watch me fill, uhhh, her up,” his speech was faltering as we were both getting closer to our orgasm.

“Don’t pull out, I want to be full of you again,” I begged him.

“Oh yes! Y/n’s cunt is mine. You don’t fucking get this.”

“I’m going to come, I’m gonna come!” I cried.

“Hear those noises I’m making her do?” Regulus asked proudly.

“Oh fucking hell.”

“I’ve been in every one of her holes Barty, and you haven’t been in one.”

“I’m coming,” I nearly wailed. My vision blurred and my pussy throbbed as my orgasm took over. I did my best to maintain eye contact with Barty as I’d been told. I hadn’t had one this powerful in so long.

“Aw fuck yeah I’m gonna fill her up,” I heard Regulus say. Finally, hot spurts of cum were shooting inside me. I felt cum drunk as his huge, sticky, wet load drain inside me.

Regulus was climbing off me and going over to Barty. He grinned at my boy friend who had tears in his eyes. Regulus undid his bonds.

“You want her pussy don’t you?” He asked mockingly.

“Mmhmmm,” Barty nodded.

“The only way you should get it is if you’re licking my load out of it,” Regulus smirked.

“Come here darling,” Regulus called me. I struggled up and walked over to where they were.

I was shocked when I saw that Regulus was hard again. That man was one of a kind. He turned me around and ushered me towards Barty. Barty hesitantly licked his lips and moved forward. He put his mouth on my pussy.

He began to lick and lap. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling. He was definitely a beginner.

“That’s it cuck, clean up my mess,” Regulus chuckled. I felt his large hands on my ass. He was feeling me up. He spread my cheeks and slowly pushed his cock in my hole.

“Reg,” I moaned.

“Clean up my load, and listen to her moan as I sodomise her ass,” Regulus ordered. He was groping my breasts and nipping at my neck to mark me.

“S’not fair,” Barty whined. He had cum all over his lips from Regulus’s mess leaking out. My legs were shaking from how wrong the image was.

“Don’t you want pussy cuck?”

“Yes.”

“Then keep going.”

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 pt.2 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin Pairing(s): Stiles x you, Theo x you (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5.3k Tags: a fix-it for y'all bc i'm a pushover Warnings: Underage drinking (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), creepy guys in bars, emetophobia, new jersey slander (please forgive me jerseyans)

Request: for all you people i made cry with part 1. this is my love letter to you. A/N: you don't necessarily need to read part 1 to understand, but this is a follow-up to if i could lose you i would.

The night starts well enough. Theo’s hand is a warm, steadying weight against your lower back, and his cologne cuts through the vague funky smell clouding the bar. Lydia chose it; somehow, no matter the city, she always found the coolest, underground spots that seemed to only circulate within an elite circle of twentysomethings. It really isn’t all that shocking when you think about it as you nurse your bitter cocktail; every single person who catches a glimpse of Lydia immediately craves her attention. Unfortunately for them, Lydia always takes you as her date, though lately she’s been ending your nights out at a stranger's apartment more often than not. She’s never said it, but you know it’s because, ever since the disastrous end to her start-of-summer bash, Theo's made himself a permanent third-wheel on girls’ night. He’s never said it, but you know he started tagging along because you’ve been distant since Stiles poured into your bedroom and pressed on all the bruises his fingertips left behind when he left you. You really thought you’d washed them all away with 3,000 miles, 3 months, and 3 weeks of the scrape of Theo’s teeth. 

You sip on your fourth drink of the evening, sitting on a barstool because your legs are too wobbly to stand on, and Theo watches you watch Lydia spin a girl with a radiant smile and glitter tinsel in her hair. 

“You wanna dance?” he hums in your ear. You can barely hear him over the bass and the buzz of too much tequila. 

You nibble on your straw and hiccup around it, “Don’t think I can.”

Theo makes a move to grab the drink in your hand, and you bend backwards to keep it out of his reach. “Come on,” he frowns, “you can’t even stand.”

“So?” you purse your lips petulantly and punctuate your point with a loud suck, draining the last few drops of your lime margarita through a few chunks of leftover ice.

Theo looks tired as he studies your face. “What the hell is going on with you? I see you every day, and I still don’t have a fucking clue.” 

You’re too drunk to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. Hiccupping again, your nose scrunches, “I’m just…I wanna go home.” Theo pats his jacket pockets for his keys, and you shake your head a few too many times. “No, not there.” Your stomach turns when you finally realize what you actually mean. You want to hitch a ride on the melting ice in your glass and dissolve into knotted hair on Sunday mornings, freckled skin washed with the shifting sun, and pouted pink lips, cursing the snooze button and your cold toes. You don’t say that. You’re drunk, not cruel. “I wanna go back to Stanford. I hate it here.”

Theo’s eyes are shadowed in the dim light of the club, but they’re calculating. “You really think that’s far enough?” 

Blinking slowly, your mind spins with the drinks in your stomach as you try and fail to think of something clever. “Feels far,” you mumble, and Theo doesn’t look reassured. It’s hard for you to differentiate pain from anger through watery eyes and the brume of tequila, but whatever emotion is darkening Theo’s expression, you think it’s justified. He’s smart enough to know what you mean. 

 His face goes blank as he searches for his keys again, “I think that’s enough fun for tonight.”

You shake your head and wriggle down further into the cradle of your hips, “I wanna stay.”

Theo exhales through his nose and runs a hand over his face, “I thought you wanted to go home.”

Your tongue is thick as you struggle for words, sniffling as they tease you from the fraying edges of consciousness. “Not there.” You know you sound like a baby, recycling the handful of words you can remember, and you know that tears will only make it worse, but they still bubble along your lash line.

“Stay at Lydia’s then,” Theo spits out through gritted teeth, but he shoves a napkin towards you to mop up your running mascara, so you forgive him. It’s your fault, after all. At least, you think so as you watch him leave. 

“Boyfriend troubles?” Your head lulls to the side as you blink dumbly, all big-eyed and glassy, at the stranger leaning against the bar beside you. He’s tall, well-built too, but you’re mostly focused on his pungent cologne. It’s hard not to; you’re suffocating in it. 

The man laughs and grabs your chin, shaking your head a little, “You’re adorable. How could anyone stay mad at you?” 

You recoil, wrenching your face from his sweaty grasp, and run your tongue over your teeth. “He’s not…” your protest gets lost in your throat when he steps into your space and slides his hand along your spine, just shy of your ass. Your dress is backless, completely exposed to his wandering gaze, and your skin crawls with the sensation of his fingertips grazing your back.

His breath is hot and wet on the shell of your ear, “You want to forget about it for a while, angel?” 

“No,” your head jerks from side to side, eyes screwed shut, “I don’t—I think I’m gonna puke.”

A wave of relief rolls over you when a red-taloned hand slithers between your bodies. Lydia shoves the stranger’s chest sharply, sending him stumbling into the stool behind him, and his hand falls from your hip. 

“Does it look like she wants to contract something from a limp-dicked lowlife in tacky shoes?” The top of Lydia’s head barely reaches his shoulder, but her eyes are sharp and her sneer is venomous. The creep has the good sense to look a little afraid. “You have exactly two seconds to get the hell out of here before I personally ensure you’re on every public sex offender registry from here to Quebec.”

She grabs your hand before he has the chance to disagree and pulls you into the bathroom. In comparison to the loud, muggy dancefloor, it’s a wonderful reprieve: an oasis of cold air and muffled bass. 

Lydia fusses over you for a minute; you wave off her concerns and push yourself onto the sink even though your arms feel distinctly gelatinous. You can tell she doesn’t believe you, but men preying on drunk women is a tragically large and present underbelly of girl world, so after a moment she turns her intense focus to the lighted mirror. She looks perfect—she always looks perfect—but she won’t believe anyone except her own reflection.

The aching strain in your arches slowly dissipates to a faint tingle the longer your feet dangle from the counter, your heels discarded below. They’re black strappy things from the back of Lydia’s closet, and so is the scrap of black silk that Prada had the audacity to call a dress. You are grateful, however, for the short hem and open back now that your skin finally has the chance to breathe. 

You watch Lydia apply her lipstick with a precision brain surgeons could only dream of, smiling lazily. She’s graceful with the slender brush, like Botticelli stroking a swathe of red silk over a canvas of smooth skin. You envy her, with your eyeshadow already melting below your waterline, but mostly you love her. So proud to have such a goddess for a best friend. 

Her head tilts as she smiles at you, and she must be at least a little godly because she doesn’t smear her lipstick when her mouth curves. “What?” she hums around her puckered lips. 

“Nothing,” your words slur together, “you’re just perfect.”

She tucks her lipstick into her clutch and shakes her head, “And you’re so drunk. Lethal, babe.”

“I love it,” you sigh as she starts fixing your hair, clicking her tongue when you start to fidget. You slump into her careful touch and watch her fingers smooth through a few knots near your ends. “Being drunk is my favorite.”

She twirls her finger, indicating you should turn around, and begins twisting your flattened curls into an elegant bun. “I’ve noticed,” she mutters through the bobby pin clutched between her teeth, “you’ve been drinking more than you’ve sober lately.”

“It’s summer!” You blow a curl off of your nose and close your teary eyes so that your mascara doesn’t flake onto your cheeks, “You’re supposed to be drunk.”

Lydia hums and pulls a few strands of hair loose to artfully frame your face. “I didn’t realize alcoholism was seasonal.”

“You,” you bop her nose and giggle when it scrunches under your finger, “are being a major buzzkill. Don’t kill my buzz; that’s murder in the first.”

“Someone has to be.” Lydia leans her hip against the sink, and her brows curve, “Where’s Theo? I thought he was your DD tonight?”

You let the intoxication sweep over your senses because it’s easy and knock your ankles together like a child on the swings. “He left,” you chirp.

“He what?”

Your bottom lip juts out a little, “I think I hurt his feelings.”

Lydia is incensed. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and mutters a few choice words under her breath, “I’m going to hurt a lot more than that when I find him.” You curl in on yourself a little, and she sighs, unwinding her fingers from tight fists as her eyes soften. “He really left you here?” she asks quietly.

You shrug, refusing to feel sorry for yourself, and make grabby hands at her sleeves, “It’s okay. You’re here, and you’re my best friend, and I love you.”

She laces your fingers together and squeezes your hand, “It is not okay. That creep had you halfway to his car.”

You shudder at memory, and feel the ghost of the stranger’s clammy hand against your lower back, “But you rescued me. So it’s okay.” 

You frown at Lydia’s frown and push her cheeks together, squishing her mouth into a crinkled half-smile. She rolls her eyes a little and takes your wrists in her hands gently, “He shouldn’t have left you. It was a shitty thing to do, babe.”

“I made him sad, I think.” You hiccup a little, “I think I always do.”

“He can’t leave you blackout drunk in a skeezy bar just because you’re in love with someone else,” she huffs.

You tease the tip of your tongue through your front teeth, swinging your legs back and forth below the sink, “It wasn’t skeezy when you picked it.”

Lydia huffs again and folds her arms over her chest, “That was before I saw tall, dark, and creepy try to take you home.”

Your playful grin crumbles as your drunk-numb mind finally catches up with the burning behind your ribs. “I’m in love with someone else,” you say, voice sticky and thick in your throat. 

She lets out a sigh so soft you wonder if you just imagined it and takes both of your hands, “I know.”

Whimpering quietly, you turn your nose into your shoulder, slightly embarrassed by the sound. “I’m sad about it.”

“I know,” Lydia combs a few strands of your hair off of your tear-tacky face and smiles a little, “let’s get you home, okay?”

Another round of nausea hits you as you finally realize that you’re truly, really, horrifically drunk, and you still can’t forget him. 

“I don’t think I know where that is anymore.” 

Lydia was able to corral you into an Uber after you puked a few times. She held your hair back and helped you brush your teeth. You cried a little when she wiped the sweat off of your face with a makeup wipe, watching her take care of you with big wet eyes, as she tucked you into bed like the baby tequila and heartbreak had turned you into. She made you promise to call her in the morning, and then she left you to sleep off the ache in your throat and the six margaritas in your bloodstream—or was it seven, you can’t remember. 

You can’t remember much, it seems. You scroll through your feed for a while and squint at the blurry splotches of color, trying to recall if you were good enough friends with the girl from software systems to leave a comment on her post about how hot she looks in red. Your fingers drift, swiping away from Instagram to the only thing you remember. The thing you’ll always remember.

The phone rings exactly two times.

“Hi.” It’s the only thing you can think of besides, ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. Please make it stop.’

“Hey.” You listen to Stiles breathe on the other side of the line and snuggle further into your pillow. “You there?” 

His voice is soft in your ear, and your eyes go lidded, “Uh huh.”

He clears his throat, “What are you doing up this late?”

You twist around your sheets, and the tip of your tongue pokes out at your phone. Apparently, you’ve also forgotten that he can’t see you. “What are you doing up this late?”

“It’s uh,” Stiles pauses and there’s a rustling sound on his side of the line, “almost 8 here.”

You blink and frown at the time on your screen, “Nuh uh.” 

There’s a pause; you hate it. You want him to keep talking until you fall asleep. He finally sighs, “Are you drunk?”

Your tongue pokes out again, “I’m not the one who can’t tell time.”

“Baby,” your heart skips and your breath hitches, and he must be tired because he doesn’t seem to notice the slip, “we’re in different time zones.”

Your heart stumbles over the skip this time, and it feels a lot like flatlining. “You went back already?”

“I, uh,” he shifts, must be in his desk chair because you can hear something rolling, “my lease started. Figured if I’m paying to live in Philly, I should actually, y’know, live in Philly.” 

“Oh.” One little syllable, and it’s heavy with so many things you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. 

“Yeah.” 

“So, uh,” you hear him scratch at something, most likely the back of his neck because he sounds anxious, “why’d you call?” He’s quick to correct himself, words overlapping like ripples in a creek, “Not that I’m not glad you called; I’m stoked you called—or maybe something a little less embarrassing—but I, uh,” there’s that scratching sound again and a quiet thudding of drumming fingers, “I really didn’t think you would.”

“Dunno,” there’s a smile in your voice, but you aren’t sure if he can hear it through the wobble, “just started dialin’, n’ I ended up here.”

He stands, and the phone shifts against his cheek as he starts to pace, “Where are you?” He sounds worried. You frown—you don’t want him to worry. You want him to hold you.

“Home,” you pause, nose wrinkling because that’s not quite right, and then add, “my house.”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Clearly.”

You can hear the eye roll from the other side of the country when he huffs into the phone, “I meant water. Did you drink any water?”

“Uh,” you nibble on your lip, “yes?”

He huffs again, but this time you can tell he’s smiling, “Get up and get some water—Advil too. Put it on top of whatever book you’re reading so it doesn’t get lost in your pile of shitty chapsticks and hair thingies.” 

Your eyes cross, affronted, “They are not shitty.”

“They’re an endless cycle of chapped hell.”

“But they taste good,” you grumble, cuddling your pillow to your chest.

He’s smirking; you know it. “Oh, I know.” 

You both just breathe through the line for a long moment, remembering the same slick slide of lips and tongues. 

“I miss you,” you whisper. 

Stiles inhales sharply, “I miss you too.”

“No,” you shake your head, smearing mascara on your pillowcase, “I miss you.” Your mouth is dry, and you can’t find the right words to explain it, how he’s apart from you even when he’s standing right there. There just aren’t enough words in the English language to explain the ache in the marrow of your ribs, how he still lingers inside your skin like some kind of fucked-up, agonizing osmosis, how you love him so tortuously, so effortlessly. Indefinitely. 

You can’t explain, but when he whispers, “Yeah, me too,” you know he knows. 

You sniffle and hiccup a few times, and a sigh crackles through your speaker. “Drink some water for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You roll onto your stomach and sit up a little on your elbows, “Will you stay?”

“Yeah, baby,” his chair squeaks as he sits back down, “‘till you fall asleep.”

“Promise?” Your voice is thick, like you’ve been crying for hours, and Stiles’s voice is tight when he finally replies. 

“Promise.”

You wake up with dry eyes and a rank taste in your mouth. There’s a glass of water and a handful of Advil on your nightstand, and you just know. You’ve known for a while actually, maybe forever, but you can’t pretend you don’t anymore. 

Theo seems to know why you invited him over so early on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t even look sad when you officially end it, and you wonder if it’s because he knew it was over a long time ago. You wish, selfishly, that he would’ve let you in on the secret so that you could’ve avoided all this. You hug him before he leaves, and it’s stiff and awkward, and you feel a little shitty about the whole thing—but it doesn’t feel wrong. 

You feel like yourself for the first time in a long time, and that feels good.

Summer is almost over, and you don’t have the time to obsess over all your wanting. All the air leaves your body sometimes, no room for anything but honey, veins, and new stubble, but you have so much to do. There’s no time for drowning when you’ve only got a few weeks before the semester starts. 

You don’t even have the time to acknowledge the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until you’re standing in front of a black door. Your screen is lit with the address Scott texted you, along with roughly 100 exclamation points and a dozen or so brain explosion, party popper, and happy face emojis. They steady you as you knock on the splintering door. The unit is cute and quaint, and you distract yourself by getting a better look at the sage green columns. 

Stiles opens the door, looking disarmingly soft in his worn sweatpants and stretched-out t-shirt—like cuddling on the weekend, like playing video games until sunrise, like home. 

He blinks at you slowly, pretty pink mouth slightly ajar, and you shift on the soles of your sneakers, jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Hey.”

He blinks some more and seems to be only capable of repeating what he hears, “Hey.”

“So,” you dig the toe of your shoe into the porch, staring at a warped patch, curved from seasons of melting snow, and shrug, “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.”

He recovers from his stupor and leans against the doorframe, hands tucked under his armpits. “You were in the neighborhood,” his head tilts with his arched brow, “in Philadelphia.”

“Well,” you try not not to smile, “it was on my way.”

Nodding, Stiles rubs his chin and purses his lips. You want to kiss the smirk off of his stupid face. “Right, the classic eastbound Stanford route.”

“Not quite.” You adjust the strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder, easing some of the ache pinching at the base of your skull, “New transfer orientation is on Monday. Turns out Princeton’s comp sci department is decent.”

His face becomes guarded, but there’s a little something like hope behind the uncertainty, “4th in the country.”

Something warm inside your stomach flutters. He knows. Of course, he knows. He probably researched it all the way back in high school. You brush your hair out of your eyes and hum, “Mhm.”

Stiles slides his socked foot back and forth, slipping on the polished floor of his cozy entryway, and he catches himself on the doorknob. You laugh until he says, “Stanford’s 2nd.”

Your shoulder lifts, stiff and sharp, “That's correct.”

His chin dips as he searches your face for something. You smile at him, and he swallows; it looks painful. “You turned down MIT because it was too far from home.”

“That's also correct,” you say quietly with a jerky nod. 

His eyes go wide as he shakes his head, almost violently, and he almost slips again with the dramatic effort, “MIT’s 1st in comp-sci.” 

You steady him with a palm against his chest, swiping your thumb over his ribs. His heart thrashes under your touch, and your face lifts with a timid, tender smile. “Sure, but Princeton’s ranked #1 nationally. Overall champs, baby. Suck it.”

Stiles finally smiles, but it’s hesitant. “You don’t say.”

You let a breathy exhale and drop your hands to your sides, curling and uncurling your fingers into tight fists. He’s still looking at you, a cute little wrinkle in-between his brows, waiting for something more. Fair enough. He kind of laid it all out on the line the last time you spoke—he kind of deserves to stew a little after everything, but you’ve forgiven him, decided you want to be happy more than you want to punish him.

You roll your shoulders back and tilt your chin to meet his gaze. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Stiles’s face goes sour, and he crosses his arms firmly over his chest, mouth twitching between a pout and a frown. “You stopped in Philly just to tell me tha—”

You rock onto your tiptoes to press a finger to his lips, biting back a smile when they pucker like a fish, and say, “Will you kindly shut it for a minute? I need to get through this. I practiced a lot on the plane.” His eyes narrow, sullen and irritated, but he keeps his lips pressed together, waiting impatiently for you to finish. You slip your finger from his mouth to cup his jaw, thumbing just below his cheekbone, and his body goes lax, irritation slowly seeping from his lanky limbs to the floor.

Grinning, you poke the tip of your tongue at him, and he swallows hard as he tracks the movement. “As I was saying,” you smile through the snark and slide your hands to his chest, resting against the vibration of his thudding heart, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I don’t think there’s just one person out there for everyone—but that’s a good thing, right? I mean, the entire concept of a soulmate is basically just a blackhole. You’re falling, and falling, and falling—and there’s no end; you’re just trapped. There's no choice. I don’t want to love like that—I don’t want to love you like that.” 

It’s cute, the way his face screws up around a theory. It’s a familiar expression, and you can’t help but melt at the knees while you watch his eyes flick back and forth, adding up all your expressions and trying to calculate the meaning. The corner of your mouth pulls into a slip of a smile, “If I turned around right now and never saw you again, I’d be okay. I mean, I wouldn’t drop dead or anything.” 

He sucks in sharply, head jerking back, “What the fu—”

“Hush, I’m almost done.” You keep going before he can interrupt you again, rushing through the rest of your speech, running out of air and restraint, “I think that I could get over you, eventually, years and years from now—but the point is—what I realized is: I don’t want to. I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want to find someone else. Stiles, I love you—I’m in love with you, and I really think tha—”

His lips are wet and warm against yours, and you whine softly into his mouth at the familiarity. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops on your jeans and yanks you closer, until your chests are pressed together and you can feel him breathe. You were right—the beard burn is delectable.

The kiss slows into something less desperate, something more like forever, and Stiles brushes his lips over yours in a few chaste pecks. When your lashes finally flutter open, you see that he’s grinning at you. It’s so wide, so happy, and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he says, “Sorry, you just would not shut up, so I figured it was either kiss you or shove something in your big mouth—and I’m not super confident in my CPR retention. Scott and I really spent most of the time figuring out how many pencils we could fit into the dummy’s mouth.”

“I take it back.” You push his face away from you, but a laugh bubbles past your swollen lips when Stiles pinches your waist. “I hate you.”

“Nope. No refunds.” Stiles shakes his head solemnly and wraps his hand around your hip, squeezing possessively, “You kiss it, you buy it. That’s what Coach said about the dummy.” 

“Well,” your arms find their way around his neck, and your fingers wind into the soft hair curling behind his ears, “you are a dummy.”

“The dumbest,” he agrees. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sincere, cloudy with guilt. “Baby, I never should’ve—”

You take great satisfaction in your turn shutting him up with a kiss, tugging on his hair until you’re on your tiptoes and he’s groaning into your mouth. “I think we’ve been miserable for a long time,” you whisper, breath ghosting across his shiny lips. He shivers, and you press your temple against his forehead, “I think I’ve had enough of it. How ‘bout you?” 

Stiles nods quickly and dips in to kiss you again. “Can I say sorry one more time?” he mumbles, kissing the ridge of your ear.

“I suppose,” you sigh and fall back onto your heels. 

He takes your bag from your shoulder and guides you into his apartment, kicking the door shut so that he doesn’t have to let go of your hand. There’s a thud as he drops the duffle bag onto the floor, and you barely have the time to take-in the ratty little sofa and coffee table piled with empty pizza boxes before he’s on you again. “I’m,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, and it twitches with the contact, “so,” his lips trail to your cheek, “very,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “truly,” to your hairline, “forever-ly,” to the tip of your nose, “sorry,” to your mouth. 

You sigh as he settles in for a real kiss and fall back onto the couch with him on top of you, disrupting his rhythm with a breathy giggle. He braces his weight onto his arms, and you wriggle down until your face is directly below his. “Hi,” you trace his bottom lip with your finger, smiling when he purses his lips to kiss it. 

“Hey.” He looks drunk: cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with pleasure, body loose and free from critical thinking—and you think to yourself that you’d do just about anything to make sure he’s this happy for the rest of his life. 

Stiles rolls, bringing you into his side with an arm around your waist, and presses against your lower back until you're crushed against him. Still, you squirm closer. Neither of you say anything for a long time, content with the sound of each other’s breathing, and then Stiles hums in his throat a little and plays with the ends of your hair, “So. You’re gonna live in New Jersey.”

“Yup,” your mouth pops with the ‘p.’

He grins, “Wow. You must, like, really love me or something.”

“Or something,” you tease, and he bites your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Jersey isn’t so bad,” his voice is muffled against his teeth, still embedded in your sweatshirt. Well, his technically.

You laugh, “It’s not?”

“Nah,” Stiles pulls back to look at you and scratches at the back of his neck, lifting a shoulder, “wouldn’t mind living there for the…beaches.”

“The Shore, you mean?” you grin, trying to imagine Stiles with a bad spray tan and slicked back hair. 

He grins right back and strokes your cheek, “Yeah, I’d move there for the Shore. I’ve actually been searching for just the right opportunity to show off my scrawny arms and pasty complexion. It’s like, what, a 40 minute drive to Penn?”

“Trenton would be around that, but I was thinking Pennypack would only be 30 from Princeton.” Stiles looks at you through lidded eyes, suspicious. You grin, “For the cheesesteaks, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he quips, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. His face turns serious as he whispers, “You don’t have to do this,” into the quiet air humming between you. “I would’ve transferred to a school in California if I knew you still wanted me.” A flash of something ignites behind his eyes, warming the amber to whiskey, and he sits up a little, reaching over your head for his phone, “I’ll do it right now.”

You clutch his wrist and shake your head, pulling on his arm until he’s close enough to feel your lashes brush against his skin, “That’s why I didn’t ask. You’ve been dreaming about this program your entire life.”

Stiles is unusually still as he stares you down. His incisor digs into his bottom lip with a cruel bite, “What about your dreams?”

You huff, “What part of #1 don’t you get? I literally just told you to suck it. In case you forgot, I cordially invite you to suck it again, #6.” He smiles, but his eyes remain unconvinced. Your face softens, all the muscles and cartilage going gooey with affection, “It was never about Stanford, Stiles. It was about home. Guess it took you going away to figure out home is with you.”

His lashes flutter slowly as he blinks, shaking his head, tongue running over his teeth as he struggles for air and words in equal measure. You kiss him until he finds them. “I know you don’t believe in it,” Stiles breathes out, “but I don’t think I could survive you being gone. Not again.”

You stroke over the planes of his face and hum thoughtfully, “I believe you wouldn’t want to.” Your shoulder twitches with a quick shrug as you add, “I know I don’t.”

His mouth chases your fingertips, pressing kisses to them every so often, and he closes his eyes heavily—like he hasn’t slept in months, maybe since the night he broke up with you. “These last few months have been just the fuckin’ worst,” he finally manages a smirk after you kiss his nose in agreement, “like a fuckzillion times worse than the summer I broke my leg, and you and Scott signed up for rec soccer without me.”

“You’ve got to let that go,” your voice is high and whiny, and Stiles’s smirk widens, “we didn’t even win any games.” You tickle him, heart leaping into your throat when he laughs and squirms away from your relentless fingers, “Didn’t have our good luck charm with us, obviously.”

“Obviously,” his grin is smug with satisfaction. Stiles tangles your legs together, legs clunking clumsily but that’s just part of the delicious charm, and hooks his chin over your shoulder, “So, Pennypack, huh.”

You nod, “I really don’t want to live in Jersey.”

You can’t see him, but Stiles peers at you, a little dubious, a lot fond. “And it’s not just for me?”

You grin, caught, and shake your head firmly, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s for the cheesesteaks,” his brow arches, and he seems to finally understand when the room becomes a swathe your smile, of your bubbling laughter: He makes you as happy as you make him. 

“Obviously.” You mean, I love you, I love you, I love you, and I never ever want to stop.  Stiles hears it, of course he does, and he says it back, sealing it with a kiss, “Obviously.”

[faerunsbest]

Despite how much they love each other now at some point cal Lia and rolan were just kids, mean little grubby jelly beans who didn't think about what they said.

At some point in time it never occurred to either cal or Lia that rolan didn't feel like he's one of them or maybe they just didn't know?

Sometimes grumpy kids say awful things and they don't realize how awful it is until later much later.

Let's assume they all [the kids] share a room in a small apartment with their single struggling mum. Space is limited and they do step on each other's toes, cal and Lia are so close in age its easier for them to stay together during arguments.

It just is. Rolan being so much taller takes up more space even when he doesn't mean to.

So they argue they argue and cak or Lia winds up screaming at rolan, with all that young thoughtless hangry rage

That they wished he wasn't there. Then maybe they could be comfortable. By the time they've finished Rolan is breathing heavily, eyes glassy with his hands gripping the front of his shirt. They know what they said and the weight if it hits them like a ton of bricks and now... there's a stunning silenece...but for rolan trying to stay calm.

Cal and Lia bolt from the room, they don't didn't mean it. Why did they say that?

Unsure what else to do. Rolan looks around the room and begins picking it up, all the mess. He rolls up his own clothes into tight roll, trying to make sure everything of his fits into the bottom drawer. Out of the way.

When he comes out he doesn't see them, but he can hear them kicking around their mums room, wanting to be left alone.

In the kitchen he sees their mother rattling noisily about, frustration on her brow.

" can I help?"

She jumps at his small voice. She seems to glance into the cupboard and back to him

" actually I think I've forgotten to grab a few things from the market. Would you run out for me please?"

Happy to be of use, rolan slips into a coat riddled with patches and takes the small purse she hands him along with a small messy list and almost heads out.

At the door his mother stops him to kiss the space between his horns

" If there's enough, maybe a bit of sweet bread too?"

With a lopsided smile, he hurries out and down the hall out of sight.

A few minutes later, cal and Lia come out grumbling. They look around the living room, he isn't in his spot by the window, his little stack of books are gone. Cal points to the empty spot, Lia can feel something clamp tight in her chest before she bolts back the bedroom.

Cal immediately behind her, they freeze. Both of their beds are made nice and neat, lias with a little bear on its pillow. Rolans bed sits blank and bear, his blankets nowhere in sight. They begin frantically shouting for him ripping open the closet to find him hiding.

Where are his things!? They come out and cal sees a coat missing on the rack. His lip wavers

" mum, where's rolan?"

They watch her trying to pry open the shell of something they don't care about when she answers with mild annoyance.

"He went-ouch!"

She whipped her hand away sticking a finger in her mouth. She looks up stunned to see the pair suddenly falling apart, bawling and screaming at her. She drops what she's doing to try and figure out what's going on, impossible with them hiccupping and breaking their words into jagged parts.

a few moments later, the door creaks open and a very happy rolan steps in with an armful of grocery.

" mom! There was- what happened?"

He blinks at the scene his siblings have made of themself, knocked off his feet when they rush him.

" IM SORRY!"

" I DIDN'T MEAN IT!"

Their mother swift as can be manages to grab the bag from his arms before it can all go flying. She shakes her head at them unsure what argument is being resolved.

After dinner and clean up the place is quiet and empty. Their mother narrows her eyes suspicious of the silence before peeking into her own room.

She can't help the smile at seeing them all curled up together under her blankets, cal and Lia absolutely refusing to let go of rolan.

[hell-drabbles]

Satan 3

Summary: Satan's taking too much time in the bath and you want him out. Of course he would take this opportunity to make you even more furious than you already are. Oh well, at least he's entertainingly slutty.

(I spent a lot of time moving all my shit from one writing program to another. I was using NovelWriter for most of my stuff but have since moved them to Manuskript because the interface is more familiar to me. By all means, NovelWriter is the better one, I just like the way Manuskript looks, is all.)

"Alright," you barged into the bathroom as soon as the clock hand struck past eleven, "Get out." You said with a kick to the tub, towel over your shoulder.

Yeah yeah, you could just go find a different bathroom to take a bath in, but you were made a promise and you were going to get it. This tub, when compared to the rest of the other bathrooms in this place, really pale in comparison to Satan's bathtub.

It's a small and dumb thing to get worked up over, but you've been having a bad day of angels hounding your ass and devils wanting your ass.

You're not giving shit. You just want a bath. But Satan is, of course wasting your fucking time by taking as long as possible in this bathtub.

Satan, gazing through the sunlight window, looked back and cracked a mischievous grin.

"Make me," he dared you, further annoying you with a clean splash of his foot. You were splashed.

You know what? Fuck it.

You threw your towel, pushed up your sleeves and shoved your hands into Satan's hair.

"If that's how you want to play it," you wrapped his hair around your forearm and pulled without mercy. "Then fine."

Satan's grin nearly split his face as he hissed through his gritted teeth. His hands dug into the bathtub's rim, his toes curling as blood rushed up to his cheeks and down to his dick.

"Let go," you yanked like he was rabid dog on a leash, "I want the tub."

You can feel strands ripping under your fingers, the resistance to Satan's scalp, and the goosebumps that raise from the small of his back all the way up and down his body.

"Y-you're going to have to try harder than that," Satan panted out, eyes wide with joy at your anger, your physical rage.

"Of course you're enjoying this," you sighed with a clenched jaw.

You grabbed his horn, not bothering with any warnings because he doesn't deserve them and pulled. Satan's breath hiccuped in his lungs and when you practically clawed at the base for a better grip, Satan's hips jumped from the water, on his knees.

"Oh no you don't." You slammed your hand right above his ass, making Satan practically squeal, "You wanted to stay in the bath, you're keeping your dick in the bath."

If he wants to be a brat, then he'll be punished like one.

You covered his mouth, stuffing all begging sounds right down his throat. This bathroom echoes a bit too much. His keens are giving you a headache.

You want him out, but you may as well have some fun while you're at it. It's a nice stress reliever, getting your anger out like this.

You will be tossing him outside the room as soon as he lets go though. You're not satisfying him. You really do want that bath.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Heads up: Choi Yeonjun x Fem! Reader, Dom! Yeonjun, Sub! Reader, use of a vibrator on Reader, orgasm control (f. receiving), edging (f. receiving), dirty talk, voyeuristic elements, mild degradation and praise (f. receiving).

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

[22:05]

Yeonjun has always kept you on your toes. Even now, just shy of being together for two years, you're still never quite sure what to anticipate from your boyfriend nor what he has up his sleeve.

In a way, it's fun. Constantly being kept on the edge helps keep your relationship exciting and new. Your heart rate kicking up when he shoots you the mischievous grin you've become intimately familiar with and, that glint shadows his typically warm eyes.

That same glint is present now as he takes you in. Amusement and thinly veiled desire adorning his handsome face as he toys with you from the chair he dragged into your bedroom. You're not quite sure what prompted this and, with the vibrator nestled so deeply inside of you, you're realising perhaps you should've asked more questions before agreeing so blindly.

"J-Jun," you hiccup, clawing at your poor, poor sheets as he increases the frequency of the vibrations. It's so much. Too much, you want to say when fresh tears trickle down your face. You're covered in your own slick. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you've more than likely ruined these sheets, but Yeonjun clearly appears unbothered by that fact.

"Where'd you go? Come back to me," he says, the command is barely there but, it's clear enough. "You always think too much." Is the only precaution you're given before he increases the vibrations further. You know better than to get your hopes up. Yeonjun has played with your sanity and pussy for hours now. Happy to bring within a hair of your release, only to rip it away from you with a cruel smirk that suits him a little too well.

However, you hope. You hope so much when he doesn't stop. It's still overwhelming but, you've wanted to cum for hours now. Who cares if you lose consciousness at this point? Certainly not you. Everything's always so intense with him anyways.

Yeonjun palms himself as he watches you whimper and moan and, arch those tempting hips of yours in his direction. Your stunning pussy split open by his new favourite toy. He tries not to be too arrogant about it but, he knows the stretch isn't nearly enough for you. You whined and clung to him when he pushed it into you. No, the stretch was nothing compared to him but, that's not why it's his favourite anyway.

You're so close. He can tell from the increase in your pitch. The way more of your wetness trickles out of you and you fist the sheets. Before he can open his mouth, your watery eyes find his, "Please. Pleas-Please Ju-Jun. Ma-May I cum, p-please?"

You just sound so desperate and pathetic. How could he possibly say no?

"My poor baby. Of course you can," he coos, turning up the vibrations and taking a sick sort of satisfaction in the way your body convulses, and borderline incoherent whines fall from your pretty lips. The throbbing in his pants becomes too much to bare as he watches your pussy clench around the vibrator.

You've barely returned to your body when Yeonjun's mouth descends on yours, but you kiss him back as best as your muddled mind can manage all the same. Gasping into him when he reaches between your thighs and eases the toy out of you. Your walls still spasming from the aftershocks. Needy hands clinging to him for any semblance of stability.

"My good slut, you did so well," he praises against your jaw between kisses, shudders running down your spine at the sensations his lips and breath provide.

"Maybe I should reward you," his words only register when he pulls away to tug down his sweats and boxers. His cock, flushed and incredibly hard, looks mouthwatering. You're still reeling from your orgasm from moments ago but, you have always been in a little greedy.

And from the way Yeonjun nestles himself between your thighs, you have a feeling he knows that about you too.

AN: I decided putting these at the end made more sense. Yeonjun and toys have been on my mind for months now so, it feels nice to finally write about it. Also tagging my favourite moawajjunie @majestyjun.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.