#tw; hatefucking

[terrence-silver]

Hello 🖤 I love seeing your blog pop up in my feed, simply exquisite 🖤

I have a request. What would older Terry Silver do with an adult student who is rather boisterous in class, she listens but only when she wants, she's a smarty pants. Terry so wishes to teach her a lesson after many months of class passing, learning her mannerisms, learning HER. Ever the voyeur, finding her home, seeing what lies within when she's not home, Terry plans a little 'private lesson,' specifically for her at his home dojo. Ending with his gi sloppy on him, his hair a mess like the slut he is with his student underneath him with no mercy being shown. His student definitely listens to HIS wants and desires, eager to please.

Breaking Stone.

(Terry Silver x Reader)

---

-"How safe is this, Sensei? I mean, it’s solid rock."- 

Your voice speaks up from the gathered crowd and Terry Silver, he knew you’d have something to say without having to turn his back towards the mass of students keenly eyeing his demonstration in silence, standing jam packed in a circle around the erected board with a concrete block fastened to the center of the scaffolding propped up on iron legs, following his every word like a mantra only for him predict that your mouth will eventually move to utter something and dare interrupt him. Class fifty eight. A lesson on Brick Breaking. Tools necessary; pretty straightforward. A slab of rock and a fist. Additional spices; your usual commentary in the midst of it all. Happened almost daily. Happened to the degree it was a constant he could count on. -"We’ll break our hands on that."- You add with a sense of urgency and worry once the entirety of the exercise’s participants turn their eyes towards you, scrutinizing, weighing and accessing what you just blurted out and you tended to blurt out stuff frequently. Terry joins them in their quiet staring, finding a twitch of satisfaction stir through him once he realized you were jittery and stuttering, made self aware through the fact you were the sudden center of attention. Needing to justify yourself for placing the spotlight unto yourself, you blurt out some more bullshit. Nerves, was it? You deserved that. Deserved much worse for stepping out of line. -"What do we do in case we tear our ligaments punching the board?"- You ask, scratching the back of your head. Ligaments? Were you frightened of getting a boo-boo? At that point, Terry allows himself to turn his entire body towards you, taking his time, slowly --- painfully slowly --- looking straight ahead, towards you. You shift, from one bare foot on the mat to the other, like the stillness of everything around you gave you a sense of discomfort.

Stew in it. He hoped you'd stew in it.

-"Seems a bit extreme. Sorry."-

You chuckle, apologizing, looking down. Then back up.

Terry has to chuckle with you, neatly folding his hands in front of him.

A bit extreme? It was meant to be extreme.

-"Our student here thinks our methods are strange, but these classes aren’t mandatory."-

He simply shrugs matter-of-factly, addressing the people around him, all eyes leave you and pinning themselves in his direction instead, encircling him like a tightly closed ring, listening attentively, leaving you even more isolated in your folly. The great mother hen and the ducklings. The one, solitary ugly black duck that talked too much. -"Nobody’s here by force."- He explains, and contrary to popular belief, everyone here gave their signature of consent on a written contract. Terms. Conditions. Price rates. Health insurances. They showed up to daily classes because they wanted to, giving their hard earned money out of their own volition. He didn't go kidnapping people off of the streets of LA and harassing them into black Gi, in spite of what the likes of Larusso tried to accuse him of, same way not even Larusso himself was harassed into this, decades ago. -"Or are you all here by force?"- Terry purses his lips, looking around, enjoying this far too much to stop. In unison, they all speak up, one voice, stemming from one collective lung. -"No, Sensei!"- The dojo resonates with their shout. He tries again, spreading his arms, envisioning himself like Pontius Pilate about to wash his hands clean of you and let the crowds make their decisions. -"Why are you here for then?"- He inquires, raising his voice, encouraging them. Spurring them on. -"To learn, Sensei!"- Obeying, they repeat the motion, letting out a united cry and content, Terry squeezes his fingers into a fist once they all fall silent, all but an echo remaining, his other free hand caressing the concrete block in front of him, never taking his eyes off of you. At this point, with a mouth standing agape, forgetting you should've joined everyone in their jubilant war cry, you were as pale as a ghost. Not quite so chatty or smart anymore.

Perfect.

-"The lesson is —"- He begins. -"A true artist of the craft spends years, even decades just hitting things. Sand. Wood. Stone. Metal. Flesh."-

Terry coos, confessing, that he did, on occasion, imagine hitting you.

The sweetest thing he'd ever strike. Purely to shut you up, get you the way you were right now; As quiet as the dead; all gulps and anxious little eyes darting left and right. Preferably having you bent over his knee like an unruly child and taking the bamboo stick to you bare buttocks until they were rendered crimson red with punishment. After it was all done, he'd have you thanking him for the honor too. He smiles, just at the notion; an expression he doesn't bother hiding.

-"Having been broken so many times, it makes their bones so dense that when it comes in contact with solid rock, the rock breaks first."-

Terry digs his teeth into his lower lip, taking his stance and lunging forward suddenly, knuckles breaking through the barrier of the rock and crumbling, his fingers pushing through the crack he made on the other side. It was as simple as that. -"Asaa!"- He bellows and if the dojo was collectively holding it's breath, once he's done, the remains of sharp jagged tiny pebbles spilling on the mat under around his feet like so many rolling marbles, he senses an equally collective exhale. He can swear you weren't blinking at that point. What were you shocked by? The fact that he just smashed through a brick that weighed ten pounds like it was nothing or the implication he's broken his hand by choice so many times that he could pull shit like this in the first place? Maybe it wasn't smart to backtalk or question the methods of a person who could crush your windpipes in with merely just his thumbs. -"So, you see — breaking our fists, it’s part of the curriculum."- He shakes his head, staring you down, taking a couple of steps forward, until it was undeniable he was addressing you in particular; his infuriatingly Doubting Thomas, ignoring the students that wordlessly volunteered to clean up, scooting down to pick up the unfortunate remains of the rock slab, chirping away at the remains like a handful of chicks. -"This is part of what you signed up for when you came to this dojo. When you came to Cobra Kai."- He assesses firmly. -"You came to break with the old so the new and the improved could take its place."- He adds. Eventually, you'd have to bruise and break in those pretty little hands much like everyone else would and if you didn't have the guts to do that, you'd advance nowhere and your here would become fairly obsolete. Someone might as well tell you that upfront.

Even though, he confessed. The idea of a piece of rock breaking your hands?

Something shoots through him, like a radioactive phantasm of jealousy.

He wanted to do the breaking instead.

Not leave it up to an inanimate piece of training gear.

-"And if you can't imagine yourself doing that, you can always take up a knitting class."-

He adds, finally, earning himself a couple of amused chuckles.

Blood rushes into your cheeks.

Were you angry? Ashamed? Humiliated? Good.

—

Looking through your files was child's game after that.

He pretty much had everything he needed to know about you, printed in black and white in his own two hands, on the very exact form you filled the day you signed up for adulted classes six months ago; your home address, bank statement, contact number, email, age, place of employment, blood type in case an accident took place mid-training and a transfusion was needed on short notice. And yes, he's broken into your home before. Terry did it the first time you ever ran your mouth to backtalk him, asking if doing fifty consecutive push ups as warm was a smart decision because it was bound to leave everyone too exhausted to hold proper form and too distracted with tiredness to properly follow the class. He checked every drawer, every shelf, every nook, every cranny, supposing he wanted to find something he could spit on in indignation and discovering nothing more fitting but what he could only deduce was your framed graduation photograph, pursuing his lips and letting the saliva build up right before he hurled the spittle out of his mouth and right unto the glass inside of the frame, watching it trickle down your face, smearing it with his finger in retaliation, deciding the gesture was fitting punishment. If only he had a chance to do it with your actual face next. Spit in your mouth too, for refusing to shut up as it did. Spit in your mouth for missing three of your classes this week, like that was a thing you were allowed to do when you weren't. Did he tear into you verbally too hard last time? Was that it? Undoubtedly, but that still didn't give you permission to leave. He wanted you to come back so he could harass you some more, like you deserved to be harassed.

He knocks on your door, freshly having concluded this week's teaching.

Still in his Gi, jacket slung over his shoulders.

He did that on purpose, to make it seem like him coming here wasn't premeditated or something he tactically prepared for in advance, but rather, like a last minute decision he made in the utmost rush to the degree he didn't even have time to change out of his training attire, forgetful, overworked old man that he is. -"Who’s there!?"- Your concerned, slightly confused voice calls from the other end and he hears the keyhole clicking, only for your uncertain face to show up in the precipice of the doorframe illuminated by the warm light of your apartment's foyer looming like a halo behind you, brows practically jumping once you recognized him, appearing relieved. -"Sensei Silver!?"- You state in surprise, opening the door entirely, letting him step over the threshold, moving out of the way to usher him inside from the corridor. He tries not to seem too familiar with the territory, pretending not to know exactly where to stand; next to the shoe rack or the coat hanger. -"God. I’m so sorry. Got scared halfway to death!"- You place your hand over your chest, exhaling and smiling. Way too fidgety for someone who took Tang Soo Do classes. What were you afraid of? Of someone barging in and subduing you? -"What do I owe the honor of the visit! I didn’t expect anyone."- You shake your head, all charm. Of course he prepared an excuse for him being here and it comes in a form of a sleek pamphlet he produces from inside of his jacket, handing it to you. He had it printed, in bulk and giving out to everyone at the dojo solely so he could have a reason to give you one to you as well. -"The curriculum. For our future classes. I thought you might wanna look through it. Freshly printed."- Terry explains. He hoped you would've continued showing up, smart mouth you always were, but there you went, disappearing. If Muhammad wouldn't come to the mountain, the mountain would have to come to Muhammad.

-"You missed the last session so I brought it over personally. Where'd you go?"-

Terry feigns concern. He knew where you went. You were pegged down a notch.

Proceeded retreating with your tail behind your legs.

That's what you get for questioning him.

But, he didn't expect you to retreat quite so definitely.

Who'd you ask if you can do that? Did you ask anyone? Him?

You eyelashes flutter, like you were about to come up with an excuse.

-"I think you're right, Sensei. I mean, the whole Cobra Kai dojo scene, ---"-

You begin, looking away from him, vehemently staring at the pattern on the corridor carpet, holding the flyer with a sense of unease, like you weren't certain what to do with it. If you crumpled it up, he'd make you eat it. -"It ain't for me. I'm not cut out for it."- You confess, finally meeting his gaze, appearing a bit shy at the notion. He knew a tangent was incoming. Decides to let you have it. And knowing you, you wouldn't shut up any time soon in the next five minutes. -"I can't do any of those things you demonstrated last week. Break my bones on purpose? Smash through rocks? Ignore pain? I know when I'm out of my depth and there's no shame in admitting something ain't for me and gracefully moving on. What you said the last time --- you helped me see that. You really did."- You utter, in one solitary breath, and it takes everything within Terry not to laugh at you. So, humiliating in front of the whole class for interrupting him for the umpteenth time with some inane observation, you thought it was for your own good and that it made you see things more clearly? What? Was that why you left his dojo like it was a bus station? Did you really take up knitting as a hobby in the meantime as well? -"I had a great time studying these past few months under you, but I just can't continue."- You visibly gulp once he says nothing and you feel incentivized to further explain. You never had a problem with that before. Go ahead. He was giving you center stage to speak. So speak. -"I talk back. I interrupt. I question. I worry. I'm so sorry. I can't just let go and do it. Do what I'm supposed to do on the mat."- You add, your eyes widening, perhaps in anxiety, pupils dilating, looking back and forth between the surrounding furniture and the wall --- anywhere but at him. Why should he let you go? When it was so fun pushing your buttons? In fact, he decides you could use some more of that.

-"Do you like me?'-

He asks, bluntly. You take a step back, stammering.

-"Excuse me, sir?"-

-"I said, do you like me?"- He repeats himself, firmer.

Your mouth wordlessly forms a shape, but no sound comes forth.

You weren't certain what to say.

Finally.

You were speechless for once. That was a welcoming novelty.

-"Because, if you like me, you won't leave me here stranded, with one student less and waltz out impulsively, on such a short notice. That's not how things work. There's a price for that."-

He winds you up, deciding to stoke a fire and then immediately extinguish it, intending to fluster you for thinking what he led you to think, watching the abject shame settle into your expression like a newly formed wrinkle just because for a mere second, you thought this was a confession of something more than it was instead of a cleverly phrased and deliberately misguiding segway intended to put you on the spot and make you feel like an idiot with no listening comprehension. -"I'll pay everything I still own and ---"- You practically stumble over your words, clutching the pamphlet to your chest vigorously, like a shield, referencing unpaid lesson, trying to regain what little balance you had, visibly sweating bullets. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Terry steps forward, shutting you up. Commanding you to stay silent. -"Don't talk."- He orders, flatly, putting up his hand alongside his finger as a warning and then coming closer still, until the tip of it is practically pushing against your mouth. You appeared flaggerbasted. Like you weren't sure what was going on, too shocked to actually move. This was why confusing people into a state of paralytic awkwardness was paramount in verbal warfare. He pushed his index finger between your lips and you still didn't move, letting him get away with it, too stunned for words. -"For once, listen. Don't speak."- He murmurs, staring at your mouth, pushing his nail inside, feeling your wetness and finding your tongue, frozen stiff, clasping it with his thumb and index finger and holding it, pulling on it, until you groaned, trying to mutely gibber and failing. -"This is the thing that always talked back. Can't talk back anymore, can it?"- He taunts and you shake your head with an expression that would place deer in headlights to shame, shivering vigorously.

You've seen what his hands could do. What his fists could do.

He could rip your tongue out of your skull and it would pose little issue.

He felt you knew that right about now.

Practically dangled by the tip of your mouth's organ. Your head slumping back.

Unable to release yourself, you slowly lower yourself, to your knees.

-"That's good."- Terry coos, pleased, watching you drool all over his hand.

-"Open that pretty little mouth of yours and use it for something really valuable for a change."-

He purrs, even as his fingers go fidgeting, lower his Gi's trousers, loosening the obi around his waist, pulling his cock out of his briefs, showcasing it to you so the state of the situation would settle in. He'd hatefuck your mouth. He was already hard. Already dripping precum. Almost like the very act of coming here and pestering you served to do it for him as he, without much deliberation, pushed himself inside of your lips, taking in the sloppy, receptive moisture, enjoying the symbolism of the flyer he's given you falling next to you on the floorboard until you were practically kneeling atop of it. -"Perfect."- He hums, praising. -"You've been badgering and badgering and I can't tell you how many times I thought about interrupting class and just giving it to you, in front of everyone, right there, in the middle of the dojo. Let them all see what happens when someone questions Terry Silver and his methods."- Now it was his turn to make some confessions, fingers tangling into your hair, coiling into a fist, making you look at him with your watering, teary eyes. He amps up his pace, bobbing your head back and forth for you, using your tresses as reins. Look how you've infected him. Now he was the one rambling and loving it. -"But, I wanted the occasion to be something special. Someplace I could really savor it --- and what better place than right under your very own roof."- He closes his eyes, smiling, enjoying the sensation of tense pleasure building up in his gut, right before looking down at you with your brows furrowed. You were just now realizing this was premeditated. Poor you. -"Oh, don't look at me like that. Don't think I haven't been in here before. Been here a thousand times."- He chuckles into his own chin, moaning. Of course he's desecrated something miniscule every time you talked back as an elaborate form of revenge and violation, like wiping his cock on the curtain after masturbating on your bed. Nothing was for free. Disrespect certainly wasn't.

-"And you'll be seeing a lot more of me just yet. Don't think this is over. Don't think you can disassociating with Cobra Kai and me on a whim. You can't."-

He flat out threatens, his hips rutting vigorously against your head.

You thought this was a game?

You sign up to his dojo for like six months and call it quits when things get hard?

Cobra Kai was a brotherhood. A society. Not an extracurricular pastime or a hobby.

That's what people weren't getting. He didn't want them to just yet.

But you? He'd was breaking the news to you hard and fast in the flesh.

-"You belonged to me from the moment you met me and put on the Gi and you'll belong to me until your dying breath."-

He grits his teeth, shaking, seething, feeling his tresses slide out of his ponytail and unto his forehead in an unruly mess, satisfaction coiling in his groin imaging you returning to the dojo on Monday, dressed in your uniform, all neat and proper, your attitude curbed and kept only for special occasions, releasing suddenly, just at the thought that he owned you, hearing you gurgle from the floor, droplets of his cum trickling down your chin and leaking unto the Cobra Kai pamphlet on the parquet in front of you. No, no. That wouldn't do. Not a single ounce wasted. -"Swallow."- Terry orders, catching his breath, scrutinizing you as you did so, still holding your hair, yanking forward suddenly, his cock falling out of your mouth, giving you leeway to breathe again and you do, gasping with sharp inhales of breath, a bubble of saliva popping between your lips as you rolled back to sob and cough. Pathetic. Eager to serve. So you were capable of shutting the fuck up, letting go and getting lost in an action after all? You were teachable. He knew you would be. Much like the rock slab on the training dummy, though, you needed to be broken in first. Terry slides his hand across the top of his head, slicking loose hair strands back, lifting up his finger to threaten and warn once again. Remind, in case you've forgotten. Had your brains scrambled in all sorts of awkward and unlikely directions. -"So, you better not miss out on any of my classes ever again or I'll have a reason to hold a very, very big grudge. Especially if you don't show up and break that stone like I've taught everyone to do. Understood?"-

-"Yes, Sensei."- You manage desperately, drooling, nodding your head.

[xx-k1tsun3-k1d-xx]

new update new update new-

[rainymoodlet]

he is awful, he is problematic, and i can smell his faceless grindr profile pics from here 🎖️ but god do i love to hate this man

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

so here’s a cool fact: yknow Mishapocalypse, arguably one of the bands to found the bugpunk music genre? a LOT of their work is inspired by Goncharov- they’ve actually talked abt it as a source of inspiration in interviews, and the distorted clock ticking sound that functions as a baseline in so many of their tracks is a pitched-down audio sample of The Clock in Goncharov.

[emcads]

Hate fucking or make up sex??

THIS OR THAT, NSFW EDITION / accepting !

can i say both. is it cheating to say both in this meme.

if she had to choose, it'd be make up sex, because at the end of the day she does prefer romantic/emotional sex where she does deeply care about her partner ... but also. esmeralda does love fraternizing with the enemy.

[corcedo]

alright, the three people that want double dick action better step forth.                                                                                   he wants to talk.

[tinfairies]

id love to read about your open relationship with alastor and lucifer. as a powerful overlord in your own right, why should you limit your bliss? they each meet different needs in you: luci is a lovestruck sub/service top while alastor can put you in your place and teach discipline. they are both aware of the other. they are both jealous and possessive. occasionally they fight (but it's *totally* not about you) then try and out-do each other in the bedroom as revenge. you might finally teach them to share..

(ps maybe a comfort scene where lucifer is sad about alastor hurting/marking you?)

Sharing is Caring

Alastor x GN!Reader x Lucifer

TW: biting, spitting, spanking, hickeys, oral (reader receiving no genitalia specified, fingering, penetrative sex, jealousy, possessive behavior

What fresh hell have you gotten yourself into? No pun intended.

How you managed to pull both the king of hell and a powerful overlord is beyond comprehension, even if you're an overlord yourself.

Both Al and Luci would argue over who had you first, and who you love more. Fighting like cats and dogs over your praise and affection.

⚪

Lucifer's way of fucking you- Or making love as he'd prefer to call it- is very hands on and gentle. This man cannot get enough of you ever.

Kisses over all the bruises and marks Al left on you. Mutters about how Al is a filthy animal and a disgrace for treating someone as lovely as you like a punching bag.

Luci is the definition of a simp, and finds himself with his head between your legs often. His tongue and fingers gently opening you up and prepping you for his cock.

You will cum at least twice before Luci would even dream of sticking his dick in you.

Always trying to one up Al, and although he tries his best to not mention the prick, he finds himself asking if Alastor is able to make you feel as good as he does.

This guy is the king of hell? How? He's too nice.

Anyway, he's not focused on his pleasure in the slightest. Sure cumming would be nice, especially inside you. (The breeding kink this man has is insane.) But if he exhausts you before he gets the chance then he's perfectly content with providing you with aftercare and then going to take care of himself.

⚪

Alastor is on the direct opposite side of the coin. He doesn't even have to mention Luci. He's not so insecure that he has to doubt his prowess in bed (yeah right, he thinks about it all the time) He knows he's better.

That being said, he likes to leave marks all over your body. A triple threat of wanting to mark you as his, give you a reminder of how much better he is than Luci, and a reminder to the Big Man™ himself as to who you truly belong to.

Bites, hickeys, hand prints, bruises. Hell, he'd even go as far as burning or cutting you to leave a mark.

Alastor fucks like an animal. He starts out as a composed dom, breaking you down and ramming you into subspace.

Al likes to hear you beg, and cry. The image of tears running down your face as you beg for his cock makes him painfully hard.

Enjoys laying you over his lap and spanking you until you're ass is raw and your throat is hoarse from screaming.

When he finally does decide to fuck you he gets possessive. Even moreso than before.

"Mine, mine, mine." is what he'd growl in your ear as he stretches you open on his cock.

Will cum inside you to further mark you as his, and he likes to watch it drip out of it.

⚪

Getting them into the same room, let alone the same bed is a feat all on its own. They might wind up just hatefucking each other while you watch.

That'd certainly be a show.

[delfiore]

—I'LL NEVER WIN YOUR HEART.

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

synopsis: aside from endless hatred and devastating love, you don’t know anything else when it comes to alexia.

word count: 2k

tw: aNGST, spicy stuff, enemies to lovers to ……….?

a/n: wow has it really been a month since i last posted that's insane (i'm not being sarcastic i'm actually so shook at how fast time passes).

now playing:

Her eyebrows narrowed. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes lasered in like a hawk.

Even from across the club, several of your teammates knew to get the hell out of her way when she made a beeline towards you.

Alexia was scary when she was angry. There was an untouchable force to her that made one cower under her steely gaze. You used to feel the effect of it, once upon a time, but recently it was almost a weekly occurrence that she would direct her hardened gaze at you.

And now, as she fixed that deathly glare onto you, you felt your arm being yanked just as you were about to kiss the beautiful stranger you met mere minutes ago.

“What the fuck, Alexia!” Admittedly, you were buzzed, and any obstruction to your enjoyment would irritate you.

“Come with me,” she gritted her teeth.

“No! Let me go!”

She tugged on your arm and dragged you away despite your protests. The bathroom at the back of this club was filthy, and the door barely did anything to block out the thumping music outside, but Alexia pushed you into one of the stalls anyway, caging you in between her arms on either side of your head.

You had half a heart to slap her across the face when she shoved you against the divider and kissed you like a barbarian, lips and teeth clashing against one another in a heated mess. She had no right to do this, but her entitlement made it so you were trapped in her grasp again.

The worst part was that you enjoyed it, very much, especially when she went on her knees to do what she always did best.

It happened not too dissimilar to how it started. Your frustration mixed with her only ensured you both collided in the most spectacular way. You remembered arguing with her after a horrible game, both of you throwing blame at each other. It happened so quickly, that before you knew it, your hatred had turned to lust. Hatefucking, as one might call it. Suddenly, all you could think about each day was how much you hated Alexia and couldn't wait to fall into bed with her.

“You can’t just do that and pretend like nothing happened.”

Your words came out rushed as you were still trying to catch your breath. Alexia exited the stall and went to wash her hands, doing so with a frustrating nonchalance.

She met your gaze in the mirror. “Can’t I?”

You scoffed. “Why do I bother? La Reina never gets off her high horse, does she? You’ve never respected me, ever.”

“That’s not true.” Her eyes flickered, and you thought you could see unspoken words behind them.

“Then what was that earlier?” You asked, irritated.

“I should ask you the same question,” she said firmly. “I thought we were fine. And now I see you grinding on some girl at the club? I mean—what is this, Y/N?”

It was always like that with Alexia, and if she didn’t say what she wanted to say, then you couldn’t help her.

“It’s not like you care,” you gritted your teeth. “I hope you had fun with Olga, by the way.”

Now it was her turn to scoff. “She’s my friend.”

“She was also your ex.”

“Can’t I be friends with my ex? And who are you to tell me who I should and shouldn’t hang out with?”

She was right. You had no place in her life to be telling her that. It was purely your desire, or a lack thereof, to hold a special place in her heart, but maybe you were foolish to wish for it when there has been so much history between you.

You chewed on your bottom lip, a habit you had since you were young. You suddenly felt the bathroom walls closing in on you—you needed to get out of there quickly.

Wordlessly, you shoved past her and returned to the club, the music once again deafening and pumping in your chest. You expelled a breath; the cute stranger was nowhere to be seen, and neither were Patri and Pina, with whom you came. That’s fine, there was an entire nightclub’s worth of people. You would find at least one person who would make you forget how much you despised Alexia and—maybe for the night—how much you loved her.

The story could have gone so differently. You two were similar in age, grew within the ranks of the Spanish youth teams together, then played at Barcelona together. You both played in midfield and younger players looked to you for guidance and leadership. Yet, it was known among your teammates that the two of you couldn’t stand to be in the same room. Ever since you were young, your similar play styles and clashing personalities ensured that you always butt heads on the field, and eventually, off it too. You grew up with this hatred of Alexia, as she did of you, but you could barely remember why. You were brazen and Alexia was cold, and that never worked for either of you.

It seemed she had had enough of your attitude one day, and shoved you so hard in training you thought you might have sprained an ankle. Some of the other girls noticed her distaste for you and started to distance themselves to gain favor with her. Then, Alexia became the best player in Spain, and you were always in her shadow. The media called you her ‘healthy rivalry’, even when you played for the same club. If you didn’t hate her as much as you did, they all ensured that you would never be able to get along ever again.

There was a memory that you buried deep inside, but it would easily surface again on nights like this. It made you question everything you’ve felt for Alexia, this thorn in your side that has never let you know peace

It was the summer of 2012 at a Spain U-19 camp. You had barely gotten any sleep the night before you came because it was your first call-up to represent your country. Alexia, of course, had become a familiar face in the team by the time you arrived. She wasn’t seen at breakfast one morning, and a coach said that she was dealing with personal matters. What you didn’t anticipate was finding her sitting alone by the steps of an entrance bawling her eyes out. You had tried to retreat, but Alexia had looked up before you could go.

“S-Sorry, I’ll just—”

“Mi papá . . .” Her voice was quiet like she didn’t want you to hear. Then, she burst into tears again. You had never seen Alexia like this, so distraught and vulnerable. The friends she liked to keep around were nowhere to be seen either. She never liked to appear weak in front of others.

Against your better judgment, you approached and sat next to her. “What happened?”

Exhaling shakily, she answered. “He was very sick. I just got the call from my mom.”

Your mouth hung open, unable to form words. As Alexia smeared her tears away with the back of her sleeve, she suddenly appeared younger and unlike the captain that you’ve come to know her. She was just a girl, who’d had something terrible happen to her, and you would be the biggest jerk not to push whatever you had between you aside.

“I’m sorry,” you only managed to say.

She said nothing and rested her face on the inside of her elbows.

“I’m sure he was very proud of you.”

“Please don’t say anything,” she breathed out, making you wince.

“Okay.”

Alexia sniffled. “I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. You didn’t like talking about your feelings either. It was the first thing you found Alexia and you had in common.

You started to feel sick. Your head spun like you had just stepped out of a washing machine, but still, you reached for the passing bartender who looked at you with patronizing eyes.

“Another.”

“Y/N, that’s enough.”

You pushed her hand away, mentally cursing at her interruption.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m gonna have to explain to Jona why you’re still shitfaced at training tomorrow.”

“Fuck. Off. I don’t fucking care.”

Then, you heard her say something she had never said to you before. “Please. Let’s go home.”

The truth was, you never wanted to protest her. Maybe the years have softened you, but you didn’t want to admit how much you craved her affection. There were times when you despised her and thought her the lowest form of a human being.

“Please don’t do this,” you pleaded. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, as you watched her frantically spring out of bed.

“I—uh, have to go. I’m meeting someone for lunch.” She replied, reaching for her pants strewn across the floor.

“Ale, I’m sorry . . .” You managed a pathetic whimper, tears threatening to fall. “Can we just pretend I never said anything?”

How is it that she had made you feel so euphoric merely moments later, and now you felt like you had hit rock bottom? Only because those stupid words slipped out of your mouth.

. . . But was it such a crime to tell her that you loved her, when it was your truth?

You learned the hard way that Alexia didn’t want what you wanted. Maybe it was just her, or maybe it was you, and she didn’t want anything to do with you. If that were true, you were foolish to think for even a second that she would. You never gave her much to like anyway.

But still, you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have any feelings for her. But aside from endless hatred and devastating love, you don’t know anything else when it comes to Alexia.

She had brought you back to your apartment, supporting you by holding you close and guiding you inside gradually.

The moment you hit the mattress, you groaned at the snugness of your own bed. Your eyes were barely open, but you saw the way she pulled your shoes off your feet and coaxed you to sit up so she could shed your outer coat.

But that was it. She was afraid to help you further, as it would resurface emotions Alexia thought should be buried, emotions that reminded her of sleepless nights and passion.

“Why are you so quick to get away from me?” You mumbled into your pillow.

You heard her sigh. “I brought you home, didn’t I?”

“Am I really that detestable that you wouldn’t even look at me?”

Her eyes met yours, but unlike earlier in the night, they now held a softness. “You know I don’t hate you. I never did.”

“Then stay.” You whispered, your head still spinning, but all you could focus on was her. “Stay with me. Please, we won’t do anything. I just don’t want to be alone.”

You didn’t care that you were begging her. You were tired of being pulled from end to end, and it was so much easier to love than to hate her.

You thought she would laugh in your face, pack her things and leave. Yet, when you opened your eyes again, she was lying in bed next to you, under the cover and all. She had changed into your clothes, so much more time had passed than you had thought.

“Go to sleep. We have training tomorrow,” Alexia whispered, her lips brushing your forehead softly.

You obliged, nuzzling your head into her chest as you let the comfort of her embrace lull you to sleep. You were too tired to fight it, to tell her no, that you would talk to her seriously about the two of you, even if you were drunk. It wasn’t the first time you had fallen for Alexia’s lies; all the other times, she left you in the dirt after giving you her everything for you to pick up the pieces yourself.

You hated her because you loved her. But maybe this is enough, you thought before sleep took over, just for tonight.

Maybe tomorrow will be different.

[aglaias-blog]

"Wicked Game"

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Author's note: in honour of my 9 year anniversary on this hellsite and us finally getting fed with some new hotd content, here is my contribution to whatever the craziness of the last two days was.

I saw this post by the amazing, the great @ewanmitchellcrumbs and thought that I had to post this, it was in my drafts far too long haha Feedback is welcome and appreciated 💖

TW: dub!con, MDNI, afab!reader, fem!reader, degradation kink, jealousy, hatefucking, possessiveness, Aemond is a meanie, reader is a brat

Summary: You make Aemond jealous on purpose as a punishment for him always having his eye on you. But his reaction is clearly more than you have bargained for.

Taglist: @watercolorskyy

Never before had you seen your husband this angry. Sure, he had had his moments – when you had barged into the Small Council to give the King a piece of your mind or when you had humiliated him in front of his brother – and countless other instances. But never infuriated like this.

It had been a perfectly good day in the Red Keep. You were just walking past the Armory when you had seen Ser Davios Rane. He had become a good friend of yours over the years, since you had been married to Prince Aemond. It was a simple conversation; friendly, but reserved, as usual.

The courtyard was buzzing with people in preparation for King Aegon’s name day festivities: servants running around, carrying baskets, tapestries, tableware and many other things from one place to another, the invited Lords and Ladies just arriving taking a look at the Red Keep, engaging in conversation.

Yet somehow your husband had managed to see only you - and just the part of the conversation where you had laughed at Ser Rane’s comment - and put your hand on his arm. A grave mistake, you had realised immediately.

Aemond had been by your side in an instant, cutting the conversation embarrassingly short. You hadn’t even seen him coming, it was the frightened expression on Ser Rane’s face that had betrayed the arrival of your husband.

He had scolded you in front of everybody present – quietly, of course, but it was obvious that they knew what was happening by his body language alone. Servants had stopped in their tracks to observe the humiliating spectacle, the nobility’s conversations had quietened down to hear his heated whispers. And you – well, you had only ripped your arm from the tight grip he had your wrist in, and ran away. As childish as it was, you couldn’t stand being gawked at while your husband chastised you like a little child. Of course, he had followed you, but not before throwing a threatening glare in Ser Rane’s direction. He would take care of him later.

You hadn’t meant to make him jealous – at first. It was only when you had felt his sharp gaze on you everytime you spoke with somebody – be it a servant, a Lady, a Lord, a goldcloak – that you wanted to give him something to look at. A sort of punishment for always stalking you, for never trusting you enough to follow his rules. Surely, it couldn’t hurt to teach him a little lesson?

Well, now he was chasing you through the corridors of the Keep, taking his jealousy out on you.

„Are you content now? Was it your plot to infuriate me like this?“

Your husband had talked himself into a rage since you both had left the middle bailey, following you to your shared quarters. His face was marred by unadulterated wrath, his predatory gaze focused only on you.

„You are a Princess of this house! You’re much too sharp to think that it would be seemly to throw yourself at some goldcloak in this shameful manner!“

You had only wished to make him a little jealous – you should have known better. There was no moderation with Aemond Targaryen, only extremes. And once he whipped himself into this obsessive state, he was insufferable to be around. No word of explanation would get through to him.

„Did you think that I wouldn’t see? Attracting the attention of a mere goldcloak, in broad daylight, too, like a common whore!“

You couldn’t stand the thought of being in his presence any longer. He would drive you insane, you were sure of it! So, once in your quarters, you ran to open the door to your bedchamber and darted inside.

The sound of the lock turning sounded absurdly loud in the sudden silence.

„Open the door.“

His voice sounded treacherously calm.

You had leant against the table opposite the door, your trembling fingers gripping it tightly, your chest heaving with quick breaths of anticipation. What could he do now?

Tipping your head back, the tense giddiness in your body broke out of you in gleeful laughter.

„Open the door. Now!“

Oh, how you loved having him at your mercy.

„Say ‚Please, my love, be so kind as to open the door‘!“, you yelled, giggling.

„No“, was the only response that passed through the door.

„Fuck you, then!“

Your anger had returned with a sudden force. Who did he think he was? He had humiliated you in front of everybody, the whole court had borne witness to your embarrassment! How did he have the gall to talk to you as if to a little child? He could rot in the seventh Hell for all you cared!

He hadn’t responded yet. The sudden silence was highly suspicious. Did he give up - had he actually left? Oh, he was no fun!

Your victorious smile was wiped from your face the moment you heard the crash. Through splintered wood flying into all directions, your husband appeared on the threshold – breathing heavily, bearing his teeth, his gaze wild - the embodiment of fury.

After three quick strides he lunged himself at you – his hand painfully gripping your jaw, towering over you.

„You forget yourself, wife“, he snarled through gritted teeth, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

„You should have the good sense to remember your place.“

You simply stared up him calmly, defiantly, searching for the darkness in his eye that let you know that he was almost there, almost – before spitting in his face.

Before you had time to think, your head was whipped to the side, the heat of your blood throbbing in the place where his hand had just been. The slap had come out of nowhere - the sharp sting of pain in your cheek forced tears into your eyes – and yet you couldn’t help the wicked smile that formed on your lips. You had him exactly where you wanted him now, and he had fallen right into your trap.

This was the twisted game you played. You both knew it. Yet it didn’t feel like you were pretending. The rage was real. And so was the intoxicating thrill.

„Oh, this is all a game to you, isn’t it?“, he sneered, nostrils flaring. Let’s see if this is still a game to you now.

„Bend over.“

„No.“

„I’m not going to repeat myself.“

„Make me, then“, you said brattily, challenging him to make good on his word.

And he did. In the blink of an eye, he had his hand in your hair, turning you on your stomach and slamming your face into the table.

You felt your heartbeat in your whole body for the few seconds it took him to bunch up your skirt and loosen the ties on his breeches – you couldn’t move, his hand on your neck forced you to stay still, his leg between your thighs made sure that you kept them apart.

And before you knew what was happening, he sank into your wetness, immediately setting an unforgiving pace. He allowed you no time to adjust, completely merciless. You cried out, struggling against his hand that held you down, hands blindly reaching behind you, clawing at whatever part of his body you could reach. It was no use though – he wouldn’t slow down.

You could only hear him groan depravedly in response - he liked the way you tried to fight him, it dawned on you. The more you tried to resist him, the faster he slammed into you. Fed up with your antics, he grabbed both of your hands in his, bent forward and slammed them above your head. The new angle made your knees buckle.

„Don’t go weak on me now, wife“, he laughed into your ear. He laughed!

„Smug cunt“, you moaned. Immediately, you received your punishment. The sting on your ass hurt less than his hand in your hair, yanking you up against him, forcing you to arch your back almost painfully.

„Think you’re too good for me? Hm?“ His laboured breathing was hot on your neck. „But good enough for Davios Rane?“ He spat the name like a curse.

You could only whine in response, not being able to stop the desperate moans.

„Should we open the window, let him hear you? Hmm?“

He slammed into with such force then that it made you squeal. You couldn’t get a word out. With your eyes rolled back you couldn’t even formulate a simple thought.

„No? Then shut - your fucking - mouth“, he growled, emphasising each word with a thrust.

You couldn’t. You tried, you truly did, yet you failed miserably. Your body reacted before you had time to think, the loud pleasured whimpers and moans fell from your mouth before you could try to control them. He forced them out of you with each of his rough movements, knowing well that you had lost control over your own body.

He placed his other hand on your mouth to muffle your whines for you. The sharp edge of the table digging into your hips over and over again combined with his painfully pleasurable thrusts forced humiliating tears into your eyes. He could feel them flow over his hand down to your chin.

„Oh, are you sorry now?“

„Mmph!“, was the only muffled sound that passed through his hand on your mouth, as you shook your head ‚no‘.

„Say it“, he growled. „You know damn well that you need this, you’d do well to say it. Now!“ He lifted his hand from your mouth, giving you a chance to do as he told you.

„Detestable bastard!“, you only spat out through sobs, your hair still twisted painfully in his hand.

„What was that?“, he said harshly, stilling his movement completely, threatening to pull out.

„You’re sick, Aemond!“ Who cared if he left you now? You certainly didn’t! At least you would be left with your pride intact.

Yet, when he pulled out of you, the vast emptiness you felt made your heart ache. You regretted every single word you had said up until that point.

„N-no, I’ll say it!“, you sobbed, hating that he had this power over you. Hating that he could make you hate yourself, taking your dignity like this. Making you weak.

Patiently he waited for the words he had demanded. „Go on, humiliate yourself. Like you humiliated me“, he growled in your ear. Abruptly, he pulled your head farther back to get a better look at you. His fevered gaze was on you, as he watched your tear-stained face intently, curious as to what choice you would make.

He not only wanted you to swallow your pride; he wanted you to crush it, destroy it completely in a display of sacrilegious devotion to him.

Tears of shame were running down your face freely now. You didn’t want to do as he told you, hadn’t he degraded you enough already? This was more than you had bargained for – you hadn’t expected him to react this way when you had started your little game earlier in the day.

Now you had to pay the price for having dared to challenge him.

The feeling of his cock between your thighs made sheer desperation curse through your veins. You wanted him so badly, it was driving you mad! It would’ve been so easy to just- just wriggle down a bit to-

„Don’t!“, he hissed, biting down on your shoulder. Hard.

It broke you.

„I’m sorry!“, you cried. Through your sobs your words were almost unintelligible. „I’m sorry, I didn’t – I-I don’t care about him, I just – I need you, only you, please, Aemond-“

It truly was a pitiful sight – and disturbingly arousing. His wife with her dress sliding down to her waist, begging for him, her tears streaming down to her bare chest, degrading herself– all this only to have his cock inside her again. With a sick satisfied smirk, he watched you babbling on, only gibberish leaving your mouth now. He had driven you to your breaking point.

And now, you needed to learn your lesson. He let go of your hair suddenly, letting you fall back on the table weakly.

Your jaw went slack, eyes rolling back, when you felt him slide back into you with one smooth movement, settling back into his merciless pace, two hands holding your hips in a bruising grip - pounding you as if he hated you. You rested your head on the tear-soaked surface of the table, moving with every delicious thrust he gave you. With your eyes closed, you gave yourself completely to the sensation, to him.

He was everywhere, all around you, in your nose, your hair, your body, your mind, your soul.

„Fuck“, you heard him curse with a trembling breath. He had bunched up the fabric of your dress over your hips, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight – the way your glistening cunt swallowed him whole, coating his cock in your wetness was simply too much. The perverse sound of your slickness alone would drive him mad, he was sure of it.

He had to remind you that you were his, that he possessed you completely. He couldn't allow you to forget it - he had to ensure that the only thing he held dear in his life would never dare leave him. It was this wicked desire that drove him to insanity everytime he saw you with somebody else, somebody who wasn’t him.

„I own you“, he moaned, his hand had found its place in your hair again – twisting it threateningly when you didn’t respond. He didn’t allow you enough time to catch your breath, you had to concentrate to form any sensible words.

„I’m yours“, you responded hoarsely, without resistance this time. „Only yours, Aemond, yours, yours, yours…“ Like a prayer you mumbled the words – yet it felt like somebody else had put them there.

His eyes rolled back in his skull with a helpless groan at your admission. Those were the only words he ever wanted to hear you say - such a shame that he had to force them out of you brutally.

He could make you say anything he wanted, but your body was yours, still. You knew him like yourself, you anticipated what he would want, long before he said it out loud – so you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of reaching your peak on his cock simply because he told you to.

He could fuck you stupid, and you would refuse him what he most wanted – an admission of carnal weakness.

But the terror crept up on you slowly, and with your eyes wide with fear it dawned on you - this little rest of resistance had already been crushed. Your body had cruelly betrayed your mind.

The savage groan Aemond gave when he felt you clench around him wiped all thoughts from your mind. He didn’t withhold his moans, showing you so openly the pleasure your body gave him – it made you squeeze down on him again. It was raw, primal – beyond your control.

In an effort to stifle his groans he bent forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder again, making sure to leave a mark.

„Your body knows it belongs to me“, he cooed. „No matter how convincingly you try to deny it.“

The hand that had been in your hair now moved around your hip, finding its way between your trembling thighs.

„N- no!“, you gasped, trying to squirm out of his grasp. „Aemond, please!“

Your humiliation would be complete should you give in to him now. You could pretend that he didn’t own your mind, but you couldn’t pretend with your body – it knew that it was his. It was honest. Always. And he knew it.

„Oh, you don’t want to reach your peak?“, he chuckled darkly.

„There’s no use in lying, wife. I can feel you clenching around me.“

He groaned again when your body proved him right.

„Your treacherous body belies your words.“

He knew that he had to draw your peak from you tenderly, he couldn’t brutally force it, like he forced those beautiful sounds from your throat.

The sudden sensation of his soft fingers overwhelmed you entirely – it was so in contrast to his harsh words and his merciless thrusts inside you. Your whole body was fragile now, having been so abandoned by loving touch that you jolted in his grip the moment his fingers gently made contact with the most delicate part of your body.

His other hand went to your shoulders, immediately pushing you down when he noticed you trying to get up again. You couldn’t let him do this, you couldn’t, you had to-

„Don’t - refuse me!“, he gritted out through clenched teeth. With his brow furrowed, he had to focus on his fingers on your cunt - he would come undone this very moment should he allow himself to take in the glorious sight in front of him, feel your writhing body underneath his hands, pushing him away and pulling him in at the same time.

„Please!“, you choked out. You didn’t know what you were begging for. For him to stop? For him to continue?

You had been prepared to withstand his roughness, thinking that he would use you for his own pleasure and then cast you aside. You had been starving for his kisses, adoring words and gentle caresses on your body – you had been so hungry for any sign of love that his unexpected soft touch on you now would make you fall apart.

The feeling of lightness cursed through you, as your mind went numb. Your body, however, felt his every move – outside of you, inside of you, around you, all at once.

The lighter you felt, the hotter the pleasure coiling in your stomach became - you tried to fight it until the end, defying the urge to give in to the warmth that spread from your innermost core – and then it effortlessly crashed over you in waves, pulling you under, drowning your resistance completely.

As if under water, you heard him come undone behind you, spilling himself inside you with choked moans and curses, gripping your hips so tightly, so painfully tight…

And then - floating. You were floating. He had pushed you too far. You didn’t feel anything anymore - you had slipped into a place where time had no meaning.

You felt weightless and then crushed down to earth again - heaviness and lightness played their ever-changing game with you.

You tried your best to find a way out of the fog in your mind, but you were just so tired, so utterly spent…You didn’t want to think, to fight, to do anything – surrendering to the divine nothingness seemed so inviting now, you wanted to stay in its warmth, to just float forever…

[cherrybomblast]

dude ,,, cant stop thinking abt ur premature ejaculation fic rn. ,,, imagining ts with someone who hates you too,,, jerking off some dude who dislikes for you for no reason, some kinda hatefuck, n there you r barely pumping his dick n him cumming instantaneously then he gets all embarrassed..,,,, calling him a pervert n making fun of him ekekkfkgk

heheheehbdbdhfb i love your brain hon.

tw extremely terrible smut 💩

you're absolutely shocked.. the man that side eyes you every chance he gets, the man who left you stern notes on your office desk and criticizing emails, is now at your doorstep, begging you to please help him, and that he's sorry for bein' so mean, but he needs your help.

the sight you're met with is without a doubt filthy - his tie loosened, pants unbuttoned, hair slicked back with sweat, hands cupped around his unbelievably hard cock. he looked so disgusting in all the right ways.

so, out of the kindness of your heart and your cock you decide to let the poor thing in. he even started to babble about his depraved fantasies he had about you.

you finally, finally get your hands on him, kissing him harshly. but almost seconds after you start palming his erection, the stupid thing starts to whimper and squirm.

you pull away from the kiss trying to figure out what the matter is now, when you feel your hand get hotter, and your palm sticky. you look down, and sure enough- there's a giant wet spot right over his cock.

"... did you just come?" you ask sharply, palming him once again.

"i'm sorry, haah, i just- i'm really- i dunno what's going o-on, nghhh.." he manages to get out through heavy pants..

"that... that was fuckin' nasty, baby..." you laugh out, getting closer to his red hot face. "yeah? are you that gross, that you cum from me touching you like that in seconds?"

"'no-no i don't usually, it doesn't usually, ghhh.. happen li-like that... i don't.. khhhh... i don't know...." he tries to protest, (the best he can, now overstimulated from your touch).

"the only boys that can cum that fast are perverts. are you a pervert, baby?" your grin widens as you whisper right into his ear, and he starts to buck up into your hand again.

he can protest all he wants, but you both know it's true.

(im thinking i like this character too,, shall he be known as pervy coworker? 😌)

[rockstvrdotcom]

"show me how sorry you really are." // hobie x fem reader nsfw

THIS ISNT THE HATEFUCK

hobies kinda harsh in this :( disclaimer i do not believe he is a toxic bf this is for the sake of the ff okay?

cw/tw: angst sorta not rlly, nsfw, throatfucking, slight dubcon? not rlly there's no spoken consent but theres consent, choking, after care, mentions of alcohol/drinking, degradation

HOBIE BROWN X FEM! READER

skip to cut for smut

you stumbled back into the house at 1 am, drunk but not that drunk— you had snuck out a few hours ago to go party at a club with your friends. you tried to take it light on the alcohol but ended up drinking a bit more than you intended.

you walked blindly in the dark, trying to find your way back to the room before hobie could notice. you steadily walked up to the stairs, almost tripping a few times before you finally took the last step; bumping into what you thought was a wall before your eyes roamed up.

it was hobie, standing there with his arms crossed before grabbing your shirt to make sure you didn't fall down the stairs. he picked you up effortlessly, bringing you to the bed and almost harshly dropping you on it.

"where the hell were you?" he asked, making sure you didn't fall asleep by making you sit upright, patting your cheek a few times. you scanned his body; he was shirtless, wearing grey sweats. the same outfit he was wearing when you both went to 'sleep'.

you proccessed his question for a few seconds before speaking, you knew it'd be better to just be honest with him. ".. at the club, with my friends." you said with your head down.

"really, (y/n)? again?" he said, disappointed as his eyebrows furrowed. you looked away, knowing he was about to scold you.

"i work my ass off day and night, just to keep you safe and you go off to some club without telling me?" he gestured with his hands, anger evident in his voice as he tried to keep his cool.

"i- i'm sorry hobie." you muttered under your breath, looking up at him with genuine guilt.

"sorry would've cut it the first time, but not anymore. this the 5th time." he spoke coldly. his eyes narrowed as he heard the genuine sorry in your voice.

he watched your gaze roam everywhere but him. he grabbed your chin, harshly. "look at me, (y/n). you can't keep fuckin' doing this." he hissed, looking dead in your eyes. you could see his anger written all over his face.

"i won't do it again, i promise." you said, flinching as he took ahold of your chin. he let go, a scowl on his face.

"you promise? you said that the last 3 times," he scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. you watched his eyes scan you, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

you were wearing revealing clothes; watching a hint of desire flash through his eyes before he got back to scolding you. "and i know how you get when your drunk! your all flirty and acting like some cheap whore. who knows what you did with other men at the club?!" he blurted out, making tears well up in your eyes.

"i don't know what to do with this anymore. you have to show me that you really mean it this time." he spoke firmly, a hint of a suggestive tone behind it as he grew pent up with anger.

"i think i should sleep on the couch tonight." you murmured, pushing past him as you couldn't bear anymore of his scolding. you neared the door until a web shot out and slammed the door shut. (lets pretend like his webs are organic ok?)

you yelped as the loud noise startle you, not even able to turn around before he pinned you to the door. "nah, love. you don't get to leave– gotta teach you the consequences of your actions." he mumbled right next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

you had no time to respond before he turned you around, picking you up with no struggle and hoisting you onto his hips— looking deep into your eyes before taking your cheeks inbetween his hand and kissing you roughly and passionately; grunting into the kiss when he heard your quiet moan.

"fuck.. don't know what im gonna do with you." he mumbled against your lips, his frustration still obvious in his expression as you felt the growing bulge under his sweats against your clothed pussy; groaning as he grinded up into you.

"h- hobie.." was all you could muster out before he shushed you with another kiss, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth.

both of your tongues danced with eachother, his hand moving to ride your dress up your thigh, your panties and the wet spot in the middle on full display as the breeze from the open window made you shiver.

"show me how sorry you really are, yeah?" he broke the kiss, mumbling into your ear as he kept you up with one hand, the other moving to take his pants and boxers off just enough so his dick popped out, slapping against his stomach and revealing his hard cock; precum leaking from his tip.

you nodded in response, pushing your panties aside and looking at him expectantly.

"nah, ill let you do all the work since you wanna go and sneak out on me." he said spitefully, letting you down and off the door as he walked over to the bed, sitting at the foot of the bed.

"c'mere, slut." he spoke, spreading his legs; patting his thigh and waiting impatiently for you to get between them and suck him off.

he watched you walk over just like he told you to. getting on your knees and inbetween his legs just like he told you to. you admired his cock for a second; leaving little kitty licks and soft kisses despite the way he had his hand tangled roughly in your hair, tugging harshly as a way of telling you to get to it.

after what seemed like forever to him, you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, slowly lowering yourself onto him.

you felt his hand grip your head before making you take all of him in your mouth; gagging on his cock as he slid into your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat.

before you even had time to adjust— he was ramming his hips up and into your face, watching your eyes roll back as you choke on his cock.

"fuck.. such a good whore for me, yeah?" he groaned in between pants, the sight almost making him cum deep in your throat. he continued thrusting his hips up, chuckling as you moaned around his cock.

you felt him twitch inside of your mouth as he let go of your hair, letting you do the work for now. you bobbed up and down on his dick; throat already sore as you rested your hands on his thighs.

"fuck yeah.. your throat feels almost as good as your pussy." he mumbled, his hips twitching up and making you gag again. the way your throat constricted around him made him so fucking horny; his orgasm nearing.

"hurry it up, yeah?" he moaned out, starting to buck his hips up into your mouth again. your saliva coated his cock, your nose bumping against his pelvis with each thrust.

"shit, c- cumming." he said, slapping a hand over his mouth as his head rolled back, thrusting up into your mouth one more time before pulling out and coming all over your tits.

he stood between your legs as you sat comfortably on the bathroom counter, handing you a glass of water. "drink up, doll." he said, holding it up to your lips as you drank in large gulps, wincing at the stinging pain in your throat.

he rubbed your back, kissing your forehead. "i'm sorry for being so rough, darlin. but promise me you won't sneak out again, bring me next time." he said, rubbing your back as he cleaned your face with a warm towel.

"i'm sorry, hobes." you said apologetically, kissing him softly on the lips as you placed the glass of water down.

he nodded in response, turning the bath on and turning the water to warm. he walked back over to you, carefully pulling your dress off, along with your bra and panties.

"hop in, love."

sorry if this was lazy </33 getting back into writing tho so send requests!!

[antiromantic-catgirl]

i was bullied a lot by my older siblings when i was younger and rn i'm thinking about hatefucking so i wanna combine the two.

TW: snuff mention, breathplay, dubcon, incest, cis characters

i'm in a screaming match with my brother, and we're lucky our parents aren't home to hear it. i just KNOW he read my diary, why else would he be saying those things? i've never even said it out loud.. "you fucking freak i can't believe you would just trash my shit like that!! it's my entire fucking life you bitch!!" i hate him so much right now, but for some reason... it's still turning me on. i manage to keep screaming "you're fucking lying i know you read it! you asshole!! you could just shut up about it if you don't-" (-like me back) and i'm about ready to smack him when i notice his bulge is growing. it stops me in my tracks, and he notices me staring. that's when my whole world flips upside down, because my brother, who i've been crushing on since preschool, finally looks at me the way he's looked at all those girls i watched him play with while i hid in the closet. and it's the most perfect moment of my life, when he pins me to the wall by my chest. his hand is so close to my breast, i can tell he's thinking about it... but then i remember all the shit he just said to me, and i want to break his fucking wrist.

he says "you fucking creep" as he plants a very rough, hate-filled kiss on my lips. i feel my brother's bulge digging into my lower belly and i just spit out "finally" and drag him to the bed. for some reason he still needs to crack jokes like an douchebag "this whole time! my bitch sister really did have a-" i backhand him before he can finish, and shove him on the bed. he tries to sit up but i pin him back down, one hand on his throat, the other snaking down his torso toward his belt. and i kiss him, it's still rough and angry, but at least i don't feel our teeth hit each other this time. i even manage to slip my tongue between my brother's lips, for a moment. i can undo his belt without looking because we've been stealing each other's clothes forever, a closeness you only really get with family.

i assumed he would pull off his own pants, but apparently he'd been focused on working up the nerve to put his hands on my ass. "now who's the creep?" i smirk at him. there's a hungry look in his eyes when he grabs me and flips us so he's on top. "you're the one making me do this, freak" he rips my top off, but i have to help him with my bra. i start pulling my pants down too, but he interrupts me. i don't mind though, because his hot mouth on my breast melts everything away. i just can't help tossing my head back and moaning, ready to drop all the anger and just... he bites it. hard. "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE" and i knee him in the stomach. he coughs out "Bitch" before i'm on top again, ripping his pants and underwear off.

i hardly get to enjoy seeing my brother's cock up close for the first time, but i just need it to happen already. i've waited too long. my prick of a brother was never going to let this be anything more than a joke or a fight. so i'm choosing a fight, and i'm going to win. and then he'll be mine. so i keep both hands locked around his throat and stare deep into my brother's eyes as i lower myself onto his cock. i've used toys before, but nothing really prepares you for the real thing. it slips in and fills me like we were made to fit together. my brother has a look of almost horror in his eyes, i wonder if he somehow thought we were 'just joking' until now. i don't care, though. i plant another harsh kiss on his lips, my hands still blocking bloodflow to his brain, and my cunt still tightly wrapped around his other brain. i pull away and say "you're mine now, aren't you?" and move my hands to his shoulders, watching his mind run around in circles as he comes back from being choked half to death. before he's fully back, i pull myself up and drop back on his cock like i'm trying to crush him. he's too out of it to keep his jokey facade, and he makes the sweetest moan i've ever heard. i keep doing it, pounding on him over and over, just to be sure he knows who's in control, hoping to hear that moan again. but after a while it's really hard for me not to be overwhelmed by it too. his cock is ramming straight into my g spot, it's like it was designed for me, his body built to pleasure mine... but if i don't slow down, i might cum before he does, and i can't have that. so i adjust, trying to find some position where i won't immediately orgasm, but he sees what's happening and takes advantage.

my brother grabs my hair and shoves my face into a pillow, and then i feel his hands pulling on my hips and a cold breeze of air on my cunt. ugh, of course my creep brother wants to fuck me in doggystyle. at first i think it'll be good because i can't imagine him hitting my g spot in this position, but on the first thrust i realize he's hitting my cervix now. i always thought this would hurt, but it just feels like an Off button for my brain. every thrust gives me a huge flood of pleasure all through my body, i wouldn't be able to speak even if i could breathe. suddenly it hits me that if my brother isn't careful, i might suffocate here. that thought scares me, my life in my brother's hands? while he's horny and pissed at me? i'm basically dead already... oh no. just thinking about it made me tighten around his cock. did he notice..? "oh you fucking like this don't you, whore? my very own sister, snuffbait. i can't believe it" fuck. he noticed. i didn't even know i would like it until right now... i think it's just that fucking him has been my big dream for so long and now i have it... maybe it would be nice... to end on such a good note...

the now distant thuds of pleasure stop, and i feel my brother pulling me back to reality by my hair "i'm not gonna do it for real, you stupid cunt. too much cleanup." i'm slowly coming back to my body... there's a warm fluid between my thighs... "oh FUCK YOU. you better let me be conscious next time you cum in me, you asshole" and there's a goofy, hopeful look in his eyes when he says "next time?"

[hana-no-seiiki]

But like the ship trope where PERSON A looks like a childish brat on the outside but is actually the stable, mature one in the relationship

while PERSON B is the opposite wherein they’re super stoic, cool-headed but is actually super petty and aggressive at times.

tw/cw: soft yandere themes, seggs but not explicit

😤🫸🏽🫷🏽

That but with Villain and/or Vigilante! Reader and Yandere! Damian.

I’ve seen this a lot in Damian Wayne works so credits go to those amazing writers that inspired me to have my own take on this!! A lot of this is just a rehash/amalgamation of what people have already written but with some of my input and thoughts…lots and lots of thoughts.

Anyways, you seem like the type of person to ruin another’s life for the sake of it. Just your wicked whims. You’re notorious for stealing massive amounts of properties or (in case of Vigilante) beat if not kill people who you deem unredeemable.

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DONT GO BEYOND THIS POINT

VER I : I’m thinking second gen Catwoman/Batman + CatNoir/Ladybug (both the OG anime concept and the series) dynamic, just gn reader.

You’re always clinging unto to Robin/New Batman. Saying sweet nothings and flirting with him, if not full on making out/having sex with the vigilante. You like the dude, really. But your heart remains with Damian Wayne. Robin/Batman just really reminded you of him sometimes.

Hatefucking. Hatefucking happens a lot. Robin/Batman loves pinning you to the walls/floors of alleyways before you two get down and dirty.

Whereas, people (namely his fellow vigilantes) think he’s done with you, but he’s probably the biggest [Villain Name] fanboy out there.

He knows basically everything about you except your true identity. Which is somehow completely inaccessible to him.

Little does he know that it was actually his own doing, locking your civilian self’s private information as a favor between friends.

But because of this he misunderstands and thinks you’re even more of a genius or something because you managed to outwit him!! You!! Are!! So!! Damn!! Amazing!!

Damian acts cold with everybody. He’s a brooding guy. He doesn’t express much. Only about 1% of what he’s feeling actually gets put into action and/or words.

So the fact that he insists on taking on missions where he has to face you, assists you if you aren’t harming anyone, or actually indulges in your flirtation is a big thing.

So it’s safe to say when he found out you liked someone else other than him, that you were just using him to get yourself to feel better about not having said dude he gets petty.

You two used to have this pact, to never interfere with each other’s civilian lives and to respect your secret identities (of which he’s tried to breach remotely several times). But all that goes up in flames as he stalks you after a heist. Following you home.

He finds out about your secret identity, your ‘unrequited’ love for him, and you two begin dating. But you’re still oblivious about his other identity.

Damian kinda has a kink for it ngl. Like he’ll charm you as Robin/Batman even as you tell him you’re already dating someone else.

Like it’s so adorable how you keep resisting him, telling him how much you love his civilian counterpart.

But then he still proceeds to fuck your brains out as a Vigilante.

Man didn’t know he was into roleplaying until this moment. Like he’ll murmur stuff like “You say you love him, but nothing beats this. I’ve already carved a place inside you, Beloved. A place shaped in my image.”

Or “Where did your ‘undying love’ go, hm? Nowhere. You’re right back with me. Complete undone within moments of my touch.”

Things go a little awry though when you, ever the mature/communicative one in the relationship attempt to break up because Robin/Batman is leaving you confused as to how you truly feel. In addition to you not want to cuck your beautiful (soon to be ex) boyfriend any longer.

VER II: Is more on Vigilante x Vigilante. Similar to the one above except your relationship is a lot more professional and less hate-fuckey. You know of each other’s civilian/vigilante selves.

You’ve always admired Damian. Despite being quite close in age, you always saw him as a younger brother if not like a son almost. Witnessing him grow up and mature alongside you.

But your doting nature always came off a tad bit romantic. Flirtatious even. You tended to be a playful person after all. Hell you even call him Babe or Baby like that’s totally normal for you to call friends that.

A lot of your friends and colleagues always laugh at Damian’s expense whenever you arrive to come nag and/or flirt with him. It’s honestly hilarious. Judging from his murderous aura, people always thought that he wanted you 6 feet under.

The truth of the matter was that his glares and thoughts of murder were all directed to everyone else but you.

Damian never felt so at home and at peace with anyone or anything but his pets in life.

He’d be damned if anything happens to you.

Still, it frustrates him. He knows that you only see him as sibling almost. That you’d die for him but never date him. That despite your honeyed words he’s probably neck deep in the friendzone.

And so to the absolute surprise of everybody, he starts flirting back.

e.g. murdering those who slighted you and/or gazed upon your visage for too long, delivering their remains to your doorstep, amongst a bouquet flowers of course, and the occasional chocolates

You eventually fall in love back, though you ask him to tone it down on the violence.

- might edit more soon, but for now adios!!!

[flavorita]

riddle hatefuck w/ fingering and just a lil bit of degradation please and thank you

Anon bro, homie, my dear, hatefucking and degradation are literally like 🤝 HAND-IN-HAND YA KNOW 

Okay okay I haven’t written smut in like 2 years and I've only posted one smut EVER. Let's see how this goes 😭

Dumb and Dumber

Riddle Rosehearts x Female Reader Smut 🔞

Part 2

TW: Degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, praise kink, dumbification? hatefucking? public sex, not really cuz it's just you 2 there?

“I cannot believe that as a student of Heartslabyul, that you cannot even memorize such a simple formula!”

You had been failing your alchemy class and had somehow managed to prevent your dorm leader from finding out, that is, until you failed your midterm. As per usual, Riddle took it upon himself to personally offer tutoring to any student in Heartslabyul that had suffering grades. 

You had been studying with Riddle every afternoon in the library since he had found out, but you still hadn’t improved whatsoever. You’ve been studying the same topic for what felt like hours. All the other students had already gone back to their dorms by now as even the sun had set for the day, but not you and Riddle. 

“Even Cater was easier to tutor...”, Riddle mumbled under his breath. You were trying, you really were but now all you could focus on were the tears threatening to spill from your eyes as Riddle hovered above you pointing at blurry images and words on the textbook set in front of you. 

“And then you have to... Hey, are you even listening?” You didn’t look up. You couldn’t look up at Riddle. You didn’t want him of all people to see you like this. You felt your cheeks being grabbed as Riddle forced you to look up at him.

Surprise flitted through his eyes as he saw the tears forming in your eyes. “I see... Well then,” Riddle took a seat next to you. “Let’s try a different method shall we?”

“Ah~”, you bit your lip, trying to keep your moans from slipping out.

“Good girl, you’re finally doing something right for once.”

Riddle continued to scissor his fingers inside your hot cunt while you struggled to hold your pencil. Your legs squeezing together pathetically, while he nonchalantly continued his torturous administrations under the table with your skirt hiked up and pussy juices flowing. 

“Don’t forget,” Riddle leaned in close enough for you to feel his warm breath on the shell of your ear. “For every right answer, I’ll add another finger. You’ll like that now, won’t you? Slut.”

“Hngh~”, his fingers curled inside you, brushing a particularly deep spot bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You lost your grip on your pencil as it dropped to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Tch, pick it up, Y/N.”

“I-I, Riddle~” With glossy eyes and a tearful expression, you turn towards Riddle hoping he’ll take mercy on you and let you cum. But instead, you gasped in surprise as Riddle removed his fingers from your cunt and started to lick them off, one by one, slowly while gazing at your tear-stricken face. 

“Why would I let a bad girl like you come when you can’t even follow a simple rule like this?”

You began to plead and whine as you begged for release; for Riddle to fill the emptiness that only his fingers could. He merely looked down at you with an apathetic look while he crossed one leg over the other watching, waiting for you to 

“Then. Pick. It. Up”

You trembled as Riddle accentuated each word, but what did he mean by pick it up? Did you drop something? You can’t think of anything but the throbbing of your heat and how his fingers worked wonders in it. You looked at Riddle with trembling lips, wishing he’d tell you what he wanted so he’d let you cum.

A gentle hand was placed on your cheek as a small smile finally graced his pretty face. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any dumber.” 

[corcedo]

its censored but like. yeah. dont make him angry or like. dont be a hatefuck ig

[nerd-haitham]

childe - hatefucking

tw: rough sex, Qixing subordinate fem!reader, enemies to lovers!au, hair pulling, face slapping, biting, scratching, cursing, manhandling, degradation, unprotected sex, mentions of breeding, semi-public sex - minors dni or you'll be blocked.

scribe's note: I hate childe so much I'd fuck him senseless.

taglist: @aliceu @suave-ayato

©nerd-haitham, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

"Fucking Qixing bitch."

"S-Snezhnayan asshole."

Childe grips your chin, keeping you trapped between his body and the heavy Cuihua desk of the Northland Bank headquarters, rapidly pumping his cock in and out of your pussy.

"You have some fucking nerve, showing up in here and - fuck- demanding for the Fatui to pay for the harbor damages" his hips thrusting in you violently, each jut throwing another hefty pouch of Mora on the floor, "But you're just a needy little bitch for my dick" he grins right in your face.

You manage to raise your arm, slapping him sharply and making him gasp, giving him zero time to recuperate when you pull his hair, face to face with your seething eyes.

"Just because you're a H-Harbinger doesn't mean you have f-full power in Liyue" you bare your teeth, your nails scratching Childe's muscular back, sinking your pearly whites into his shoulder, making him groan in pain, which morphs into a low moan.

"Well, I definitely have full power over your fucking pussy, bitch" he pins your arms on the desk with his hands, doubling the speed of his thrusts, the squelching noises of your soaked pussy and your shared moans bouncing off the walls of the headquarters - you're sure Childe's subordinates have heard everything at this point.

"What? No snarky remark? Nothing?" he chuckles and traps your wrists above your head, his free hand gripping your chin again.

"C-Childe-"

"Yeah, that's more like it, doll" he purrs against your neck, scraping his teeth against your neck.

"Keep moaning my name like that and I'll be generous enough to send you back to your Lady with your cunt full of my cum - like the other times."