#unedited don't judge

[chock-and-bates]

Cant wait to read your medieval au and imagine charles wearing a slutty damsel dress, lying on a bear fur waiting to be ravished <3

bear fur, you say? are you, like, psychic???

in honor of this prophetic ask, here is a very long snippet from my dark medieval au, roar of the fire.

(tw: blood, #43 fans beware!, and some mild chussy spice 🌶️)

His husband had dragged his chairs close as soon as they had sat down, wrapping a possessive arm around his shoulders and tucking Charles into his side, where he had stayed throughout the feast, with Max occasionally trying to hand feed Charles food and snickering when he would snap at him.

They were still pressed together now, observing the barely contained mayhem in the Grand Hall. Charles watched as Lando made a fool of himself, shamelessly flirting with Sir Ricciardo, Carlos, and the physician's apprentice, Oscar. He spun around on the dance floor, throwing his arms around whichever man was closest, and laughing maniacally at whatever they said.

Charles scowled at the scene, ashamed that such a fool was his lord-in-waiting. It made him grateful that Max was not one for dancing, for Charles had no desire to be in close proximity with the little strumpet tonight.

Of course his present situation was not much better. Since the dancing had started, Max was honestly more preoccupied with Charles than with watching his own court. He kept plying him with more wine, humiliatingly lifting his goblet to Charles’ lips for him to sip from as he whispered filthy promises to him, occasionally allowing his hand to wander no matter how many times Charles tried to push it away.

“I like the gown,” Max murmured to him, his finger running along the low neckline of the blood red dress Charles had been forced into. He brushed the tip of his finger against Charles’ skin, “You look very pretty.”

Pursing his lip, Charles threw him a withering look, “I look ridiculous. Apparently Lord Perez did not think my usual robes were fitting for a feast.”

Chuckling, Max just leaned closer to rest his forehead against Charles temple, his arm still tight around his shoulder so he couldn’t shrug him off, “My poor little queen. Maybe it will cheer you to know that I do not intend for you to be wearing it for much longer.”

Heat crept up his neck at the words and he uselessly tried to squirm away, “I told you, this is not a conversation befitting for a feast, you brute.”

Max didn’t let him budge an inch, instead whispering hotly against his ear, “Did you see the massive bear rug one of the diplomats gifted us? I’ve already ordered it to be taken to our chambers and laid out in front of the fire. I’m going to take you on that rug tonight, wife. Going to rip off this dress and-”

“Your grace,” Lord Horner’s voice interrupted Max’s filthy words, “May I present to you, Lord Colapinto.”

With an irritated huff, the King pulls away to see the guest. Flustered, Charles also glances up at the intrusion.

Lord Colapinto turns out to be one of the foreign diplomats, a young man, with a charming face, and a misplaced, confident sparkle in his eyes from far too many drinks. He gives a low, drunken bow to Max and begins to extol the incredible feast-

Charles tunes out of the conversation quickly, he has no desire to listen to more diplomats lather his husband in praise and flattery, as if that will spare their lands if Max sets his sights on them.

Until he realizes Colapinto’s eyes have begun to rest on him.

“I, of course, offer my congratulations on your recent nuptials,” Colapinto practically purrs as he stares at Charles, “Your bride is most lovely.”

Everyone at the great table stiffens, Charles included.

“Your grace, you do not dance,” Colapinto looks back at Max, the drunken haze in his eyes even more obvious after his words. Who could have let this poor man stumble up here in such a state?

Max does not answer the question. He’s gone very still, his gaze sharp and focused, a predator observing his prey.

“King Max does not dance,” Lord Horner answers instead, an icy warning underlying the statement.

One that, unfortunately, Colapinto does not heed.

“Ah, a true shame. If I may,” Colapinto stumbles closer, “I would offer to take the Queen for a dance, if it pleases your grace.” He extends a hand towards Charles, “Your beautiful bride deserves to be shown off to the court-”

Max stands abruptly. In what feels like the blink of an eye he has unsheathed the knife from his belt…and stabbed it straight through Colapinto’s wrist and into the table.

The lord shrieks in agony, writhing in shock and pain as his blood spreads out from where he’s pinned. Exclamations of surprise and disgust erupt from those near, causing the music to stop and the rest of the guests to crane their necks to see the bloody spectacle.

Charles does not look away from the grisly sight, clenching his jaw and staring at the foolish lord as he screams and squirms.

“It does not please me,” Max sneers as he answers the lord’s witless question. 

With icy eyes he looks out at the rest of the crowd, everyone falling silent and fearful under his stare.

“Come, we’re retiring,” he says to Charles, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. 

Everyone bows to them on their way out, but Charles barely notices, Calopinto’s shrieks still ringing in his ears.

Moments later, despite the violent scene, Charles still finds himself laid out on that bear rug. The fur is pleasantly warm from the heat of the fire against his bare skin, that cursed dress laying in tatters near the door. Max is also naked, laying half on top of him, sucking and biting dark, possessive marks into his neck as his hand works at Charles between his legs.

“Did you want to dance with him, schatje,” Max asks him, the words whispered against his throat.

Biting his lip, Charles tries desperately to hold in the wanton mewls that Max keeps pulling out of him, his thumb relentlessly circling the sensitive bud at the top of his sex, while his cunt keeps clenching around the two fingers Max has buried inside him. He keeps remembering how it’s the same hand that had just wielded his knife.

Still, his question makes Charles scowl, and he hopes Max can hear it in his voice when he answers. “No. As if I would ever want to dance with a drunken idiot.”

He can feel Max’s smile against his neck, sharp and violent.

[miedei]

heyoo🫶 idk if your spencer requests are still open but all I've been able to think about for weeks is s4ep9 spencer being the most adorable nerd when he was warning the women at the club about the serial and them being the reader's friends going back to the reader with like drinks or whatever laughing about "that nerdy loser" at which reader's practically frothing at the mouth asking them "WHERE" and then hardcore flirting with an oblivious (and/or blushing mess) spence to the team's amusement and reader just thinking "need me a pathetic loser like that" (affectionate). im not even sure this makes sense but i just go feral for nerd reid. im really looking forward to reading this and thank you in advance if you do write this🥰

REAL REAL REAL need me a pathetic loser boy

peacocking

spencer gets hit on at the club!!

cw: none i think?? spence is cute and pathetic, r is the kind of flirty i only aspire to be

wc: 1.2k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

The club is busy, lighting dim, the music so loud that you can feel the bass thumping in your chest. It's a stark difference from the brightly-lit bathroom you just emerged from, wearing three new products of makeup courtesy of the drunken friends you've just made.

The crowd is thick, and you can just barely spot your friends, huddled around a hard-won table. You push through people, not bothering to apologise, until you've returned to the group.

You're greeted with whoops and cheers, and a drink is pushed into your hand before you can even sit down. Alcohol-fueled shouts leave their mouths, and you get the distinct feeling that they've somehow had at least two more rounds in the time you've been gone. You can barely focus on one person's speech, the words overlapping in their excitement.

"-and he was, like, the hottest guy I've ever seen!"

"-but he wouldn't take my number because he was working, and-"

"-his friend was pretty awkward though-"

"-like a string bean! Nerdy as hell, think it was his first time in a club-"

"-was like he'd never spoken to a woman before, kept talking about the serial killer-"

You hold up a hand, a little bewildered at the bombardment of information.

"Hold on- serial killer?" One of your friends shakes her head a little, as if clearing her mind.

"Not here, at least they pretty sure. Some creep's been picking up women and killing them at clubs, so there were cops or something here giving out fliers." A flier is thrusted into your hand, a sketch of a guy looking up at you.

"And, one of the cop guys was gorgeous! Adonis, Casanova, whatever the fuck you'd call him, he was so pretty..." She sighs wistfully, pointing across the room to a gaggle of women surrounding a well-built guy holding fliers like the one in your hand.

"The other guy was a little sad, though. Real nerd type."

Another voice butts in. "Yeah! I mean, look at him, I feel a little bad for him, he's clearly striking out and he's here for his job."

The pointing finger shifts, and your attention is directed to a lanky guy standing towards the edges of the crowd, near the bar. He looks nervous, hands fiddling with the stack of fliers he's got, and he doesn't seem to be trying to approach anyone anymore.

He's clearly uncomfortable, skittish in his stance. A nerd to his core, probably never the type to be wading through a crowd like this. He looks a little pathetic.

You've got to have him.

You tell your friends as much, and are met with drunken encouragement, slaps on the back and reminders to use protection. Setting down the flyer and your drink, you steel yourself, smoothing back your hair before walking with purpose across the room.

Once you near him, you slide onto a barstool, flagging down the bartender and pretending not to notice the new love of your life. He's clearly clocked you, and seems to be trying to work up the courage to approach you. Once you've given your order, you decide to make it easier for him.

Turning on the stool, you look up at him, eyes slightly hooded.

"You not having fun? It's a club, you should probably unbutton that shirt a little." It's thrilling, the way his eyes widen and he looks around him, as if you could be speaking to anyone else right now.

"Well, I actually- I'm actually here for my work, so..." His cheeks flush, and you continue with the oblivious act.

"Work? I've got to say, you're gorgeous, but I didn't think you were the type to be hired as a waiter here." You gesture to the scantily-clad waitress that passes you. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, before seemingly remembering something. He rifles through his leather bag, producing a wallet with ID.

"Um, no, I don't work here. I'm- I'm an FBI agent. Doctor Spencer Reid. H-hi." Cute and smart? It's a wonder you haven't slid right off your stool.

"Yeah? And what are you doing here, Doctor Reid? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate being able to ogle you, but this doesn't exactly seem like the place for the FBI to be doing their investigating." You nod your thanks at the bartender, and run your finger along the rim of your glass, eyes locked onto Spencer's.

"Oh! Yeah," He fumbles with the papers in his hand, before holding one out to you. "There's a, um, serial killer? He's in the area, and he's targeting women at clubs like these... so," You lean forward, eyes not wavering from his, relishing in the way Spencer's eyes widen at the motion.

"So?" You prompt.

"So, uh, we're handing out those sketches," His hand, trembling slightly, comes up to point at the flyer in your hand. "and warning women to be on the lookout, not go home with anyone they don't know."

Your lips pinch slightly together, exaggerating your concern. "Oh god, Doctor Reid, that's really scary. What can I do to keep safe?"

His shoulders drop from where they were tensed near his ear, seemingly in his comfort zone here.

"Well, the unsub- the suspect is seeking validation from people, he wants women to chase him. If you meet any guys who try and play hard to get, possibly dressed flaboyantly, stay away and tell the police." You tilt your head questioningly, prompting him to continue.

"He's peacocking. It's a method that some people use to draw attention away from their faces. By using some ornate and distracting piece of clothing, he's diverting attention away from his face." His hands fly around him wildly as he speaks, long fingers wriggling and punctuating his words.

"Uh huh? So this... sweater." Your hand comes up, nearly unconsiously, to fiddle with the woolen texture of the sweater he's got on over his shirt. His hands still midair.

"It's distracting me plenty. Is that peacocking? But I've gotta say, I don't think anything would draw my attention away from that face." His eyes widen further, lips quivering as if he's struggling to come up with words.

"Um, I- I don't think, this isn't- isn't peacocking. This is just... how I dress." Your smirk widens further, hand still twisted in the collar of his sweater. The other agent, the one your friends pointed out earlier, sidles up behind him, but pauses, observing your conversation without butting in. You've only got a little time left.

"Well, I guess you're just that captivating then. You got a pen?" You let go of his clothes, watching him flounder for a second before pulling a pen out of his pocket, holding it out to you wordlessly.

Taking it with a smile, you begin to scribble your number down on the corner of the flyer in your hand.

"I think I'm missing out, if you dress like this every day." You finish writing with a flourish, tearing out your number and tucking it in his pocket along with his pen.

"Call me, okay? Keep me safe from the killer." You pat his shoulder, brushing past him with a smile.

(If the music were any quieter, you would've heard Spencer being interrogated by Derek the moment you leave, and the subsequent call to the rest of the team to inform them of the news. Penelope falls off her chair in excitement.)

[verbenaa]

wip wednesday~

thank you to my talented and amazing @elinorbard for tagging me!! I am actually on time this week (shocking, I know.) I am still working on chapter 8 of to eden, which has managed to grow to 10k and I'm still going 😅 sorry about that haha. hopefully it shall be completed soon! here's a little something I was working on last night in the meantime 🤭

Ask me to stay.  The words come from a deep, dark part of her mind unbidden; but the wanting they bring with them threatens to ruin her. “Well, it’s been lovely. You’re always such a treat.” Astarion summons a veil across his eyes, an empty smirk on his lips as he sits up beside her. “You should get some sleep, darling. Who knows who you will need to convince to kill themselves tomorrow?” It’s like a slap to the cheek—cold water to wake her from the hazy warmth of a dream.  “Oh.” She bites her lip, hoping she hides her disappointment well enough; but from the way Astarion averts his gaze to focus on an invisible point on other side of the tent, she doesn’t need to worry much. “I suppose you need your beauty sleep, then? Far be it from me to get in the way.” Rin doesn’t want to hear his answer, she decides, as she makes to sit beside him and the blanket that had so briefly covered them both falls to their laps. She’s not quite certain she can bear look at him either, not at the cool and aloof expression that seems to have taken residence across his features.  He hadn’t looked like that when he kissed her. 

tagging @khywren @inkymoonbunny @ladyduellist @xxnashiraxx @preciouslittlebhaalbae @roguishcat to post something if you all feel like it! no pressure 💖🌷 and apologies if any of you have already been tagged as well!

[hergrandplan]

Little snippet from the next chapter of Suburban Legends

(because this scene has been living in my head for too long and I'm excited I can at least partially share it now)

Simon’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he scrambled to get it. His elbow accidentally hit the glass of lemonade, causing it to fall down on the table with a soft thud, the contents spilling all over the table - and down Simon’s shirt.

“Shit!”

Simon looked down, dumbfounded. His no-longer white shirt was soaked through. It clung to his stomach, and Wille could see the brown, smooth skin beneath the fabric.

Wille forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Simon’s face. He couldn’t think about how his t-shirt now hugged his waist, or how, in some other universe, he might have made a stupid joke that Simon might as well take his shirt off, as nothing was left to the imagination anymore. Or how he might have taken him to the bathroom to rip his clothes off himself - 

Bathroom. The bathroom might be a good idea anyhow. 

[hekateinhell]

Lestat pov ddg and knifeplay pt 2 please!!! <3

Anything for you! 🥹

Here's what I have for knifeplay pt 2 (this is pt 1):

Never, in all his years, has Armand ever seen another immortal in such a delirious state of ecstasy that was not induced through the swoon as Lestat is now.

He listens, taking great care to maintain a separation of his senses. Drags his finger over the concave beneath Lestat’s eye—the same one that had been taken from him and then restored—gathering up the fluid there and licking it off his fingertip. Permitting himself a single suck to ensure no residue was left behind. 

Of course Lestat’s tears would taste as sweet as the rest of him.

Fascinating as ever to bear witness to emotions and sensations taking form in the minds of others, especially one Armand loved and valued such as him.

The echo of their willing victim’s shallow breaths swirl in the air to meld with the wet sounds of Louis slicing into Lestat’s immaculate flesh with the loving precision that a butcher bestows on his most prized cut of meat fit for a royal feast. Lestat’s thoughts had become less pronounced until they lost shape entirely, falling apart some time ago like a poorly constructed dress on a mannequin, tattered scraps held together by nothing but rusted pins and hope. Distorted without word or sound, mindless flashes of color and static, the useless dreams of a beast who does not realize it can dream. His grey eyes fixed open, glassy but bright, tinted with a reddish film reminiscent of something violently killed until enough tears have amassed that they spill over, permitting the cleansing cycle to start anew.

“You do so well, Lestat, so beautiful,” Armand murmurs praise into his ear, caressing the spot where his hairline meets his temple, the blood sweat staining the white-blond baby hairs. It is for Louis’s benefit that he speaks at all, seeing as Lestat is well past hearing either of them through any means.

For now Armand is content to speculate and facilitate, dipping his hands in and out of each wound to coat his fingers a warm and sticky crimson, the liquid seeping underneath his nails, greedy and wretched as a gluttonous child left unattended in a candy shop.

----

I hope to have it finished sometime this summer! ♥️ I'll slide Lestat POV DDG under the cut!

Lestat’s sophomore year—she’s had more than enough first days of school at this point—and yet somehow the anxiety in her stomach never goes away. She’s already anticipating the frustration, the tears, the begging Nicki to help with her papers because flunking a class would mean losing her scholarship to the theater program.

And Nicki has being so irritable with her lately, “Just go to the fucking tutoring center yourself, Lestat! Even you aren’t that dumb” she would snap, storming away, leaving Lestat staring numbly at the screen, unable to translate the thoughts in her head into words on the page in a way that made sense to her or anybody.

I’m not dumb...

“Lestat!” Eleni yells, waving as she bounds up the short steps outside of the liberal arts building. “What’s wrong with you?” She’s still catching her breath, god knows Eleni’s never been anywhere on time a day in her life.

“Nothing,” Lestat lies, shaking her head and taking one last hit of her vape, tilting her head back to blow a strawberry-scent cloud into the air.

Eleni narrows her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s met Nicki. She knows. That’s the shame of it, isn't it? Everyone knows.

And how had this happened? Was there truly nothing to spare the daughter the fate of the mother? How could Lestat not see it coming when she’d grown up knowing the warning signs before she even knew her ABCs and 123s?

“Come on,” Eleni puts her hand on Lestat’s arm like she’s guiding a lost child—her touch that careful, her tone that gentle.

Nicki aside, Eleni was her closest friend. Truth be told, Lestat didn’t have many friends. More acquaintances than she could care to remember, much less name.

Try as she might, she had never really stopped being the gangly little girl curled up in the corner with a book she couldn’t read, staring at the pictures until she saw spots dancing and her vision blurred, pretending she hadn’t even wanted to play with the other kids anyway. Who wanted to be friends with the kid with ratty hair and torn up clothes, eight-years-old and still unable to read because none of the adults in her life gave a fuck? Nobody wants you… Why should we?

Except Eleni had. Nicki had.

----

And that's as far as I got before I realized the story needed to go back to Armand's pov! Not that I wasn't happy with it or anything, but it was just starting to tell an entirely different story than the one that I wanted to!

[little-peril-stories]

Find the Vibe

I was tagged by @i-can-even-burn-salad to find this vibe: that moment when they realize the worst that could have happened has happened.

Sooo remember this lil teaser?

Wanna see what happened right before?

Because it is the moment where she realizes the worst possible thing has happened. 😳 Or, rather, the worst possible person has appeared.

Curt, more furious than she’d ever seen him, kicked the thief back down, wrenching his arms behind him and locking them into the shackles. “You son of a bitch. How dare you put your hands on h—” “What the devil is going on here?” No. Panic spread through her, so white-hot, so paralyzing, so bone-deep that Breanna could barely remember how to breathe. She could not answer. She could not  move. “He attacked her,” Curt said, and Breanna saw through dazed eyes that he had forced the thief to his feet, and though the boy tried valiantly to escape his grasp, Curt yanked his head back. Yanked his head back so that his hazel eyes stared directly into her husband’s.

Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @clairelsonao3 + OPEN TAG

Here's your vibe: the character is deceiving/lying to someone to get what they want

[evaofkonoha]

I got one! Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

hehe yay! I got a bite! thank you Magma ;) As for a scene that was cut, unfortunately when I kill my darlings, I really kill them, so they are gone forever :(

However~ I do have quite a few WIPs I have written that may never see the light of day, so I am happy to share a bit from one of those!

This is from a thing I wrote back in April maybe? It's called "Boy of the Year," it's SNS, specifically power bottom Sasuke dynamic and helplessly pining Naruto. Honestly, it's mostly just smut XD I needed inspiration, so I sprinted this whole thing out pretty quick if I remember. correctly. For some reason it's set in Fort Worth? Yeah... idk either. Maybe I will still post it one day? Until then, here is a very long and not totally smutty but a little tease from this WIP!

(warning this is hardly proofread or anything, it's in pretty raw form) --------------

Sasuke is… intense, as Naruto has discovered. 

The door wrenches open, Sasuke already nude, signature smirk on his stunning features. Sasuke’s bold attitude towards his body, and sex, has taken some adjustment on Naruto’s part. Sasuke is so incredibly confident that answering the door naked is probably without a second thought. 

Of course, Naruto can’t help but ogle his incredible body, so lithe, all lean muscle and flawless pale skin, everything about him is elegant. That’s the only word in Naruto’s limited vocabulary that seems to sum up all of the parts of Sasuke Uchiha. Even in the throes of passion Sasuke is exquisite. 

Meeting those dark brown eyes again, glittering, Sasuke appears very aware that Naruto is blatantly checking him out, like he always does when they meet up. Naruto can’t stop the blush that blooms across his cheeks even if he wanted to. 

“You’re slow,” Sasuke says, tone light, as he leans against the door frame, making no effort to hide his body. It is taking all of Naruto’s self control to not look down at Sasuke’s cock, which is semi-hard and gorgeous and right there.

“It’s busy, it’s Saturday, and I have to cross through most of downtown to get here,” Naruto explains, trying to force himself to stop bouncing in place, afraid it makes him look eager. Which is hilarious because he is eager.

“I’m feeling restless,”

“I figured,” Naruto says, suppressing a sigh. Naruto functions as Sasuke’s pick-me-up, the same way his black coffee does. 

A soft hand reaches up to caress Naruto’s cheek, leaving Naruto shivering slightly at the touch.

“I’m glad you came over, [character name] isn’t in town right now, and I’ve had a really long day,” Sasuke croons, his melodic voice drawing Naruto in. 

Closing his eyes in a combination of frustration and pleasure, Naruto pleads, “Please don’t talk about [name] while I’m here.” 

Sasuke chuckles softly, “That’s right, you don’t like me mentioning my other friends,” his hand moves lower, caressing Naruto’s neck, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt before roughly pulling him closer, “You’re so jealous…” Sasuke’s voice is playful, breath tickling his ear, leaving Naruto quivering in the apartment’s hallway. 

“C’mon,” Sasuke pulls him in roughly, letting the door slam shut behind them before throwing Naruto up against it with a solid thud. Those sinful lips descend on him, kissing his breath away. It’s immediately sloppy and wet, Sasuke’s tongue plunging into his mouth, taking control of the kiss. The taste of tobacco and peppermint tea is exquisite, so uniquely Sasuke. 

That tempting, naked body moves in flush with Naruto’s, his fingers playing with the neckline of Naruto’s shirt. On instinct, Naruto’s hands move to Sasuke’s waist, gripping slightly, earning a barely-there moan.

Teeth bite and pull at Naruto’s lower lip, a little spark of pain turns to pleasure drawing a guttural groan from Naruto as heat and adrenaline flood Naruto’s body, pooling in his lower abdomen. Prior to Sasuke, Naruto never liked anything painful, never found it arousing. It’s different now. Everything with Sasuke is different.

[dollyfetti]

because of your latest post would I be able to tell you that I've been thinking about Katsuki spitting in readers mouth in any context (mostly smutty) without judgement?

and before you do judge just know that I am a mutual that cares about you so deeply and hopefully vice versa and I am a troubled soul, and I would greatly appreciate you indulging me

NOOO do nawt worry !!! for the most part, i don't rlly judge anyone's sexual preferences, to each their own!! ^_^ andddd i think ive actually written something about this for bkg before !! not sure if it was on my old acc or not but i def get it omg!!

nsfw below!! unedited (wrote kind quick whoops), smut, spit kink, pet names (baby + sweet girl), tittay sucking, katsuki's kinda a service dom here hehe

i like to think he's very sweet about it :3 he’s already inside you, going with a steady pace with his arms on either side of your head. dark love bites litter your upper body, and even more so as he continues to lick and suck your neck while you arch into him.

it’s quiet in this moment, neither of you too energetic this early in the morning. you let out little sighs and moans as he keeps reinserting his cock into you over and over again. your jaw is stretched out, your mouth wide open as your eyes squeeze shut.

“feels so good..” katsuki murmurs, more to himself than you, as his sweaty forehead presses against the underside of your jaw, licking over a bite mark.

it would be almost primal, the way he's mouthing at you, if he wasn’t so soft.

he kisses his way up to your lips, letting out grunts and moans as you push your tongue onto his. he sucks on your bottom lip, almost smiling as your hips start to buck up more, lazily rutting onto him.

his pace doesn’t falter one bit at your fidgety movements. in fact, he lifts the leg up wrapped around his waist to stretch onto his shoulder, bringing a small whine from you. he shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to your ankle before leaning back down to fulfill your needs.

he can tell you’re getting closer, but still not quite there yet. he drops a hand to your gushing center, pressing two fingers against your clit in gentle circling motions. you mewl, hips unintentionally bucking up more.

“i know, i know.” he mumbles, kissing right above the valley of your tits. “doing so well, baby.”

even with the extra stimulation, you’re still not there yet. katsuki finds everything as a challenge. he learns what he can to be the best— and only the best. which includes this scenario, where he stares down your wanton expression, your wet tongue looking back at him. he groans at a thought, fingers pressing harder against your clit as he leans down to grab your jaw, angling himself so your leg is still on his shoulder.

“cmere, sweet girl.” he gruffs, smiling as your eyes flutter open in curiosity.

he sticks out his own tongue, silently asking for you to mimic him, which you do without a second thought (not that you really have any right now)

whines still trickle out of you as he collects as much saliva as he can, still thrusting into you with the urgent need to make you feel like you’re on cloud 9. he leans down closely, opening his mouth to let the spit fall past his tongue and directly onto yours, some dripping below your lip too.

you whine loudly, eyes shutting again to swish it around in your mouth for a moment before swallowing it and lifting your hands to grip his shoulders tightly. “suki, i’m-”

“go ahead.” he groans, pounding into you just a little harder, fingers circling quicker. he looks down to where you're both connected, moaning at the sight.

"mmph- m gonna cum baby.." you slur, yelping as he forcefully slams to kiss your sweet spot. he lets out a tiny hiss as you squeeze around him, but he doesn't let up, leaning back down to reattach his lips around your sensitive nipples. your fingers grip onto his hair, tightly squeezing as your hips grind into his.

"atta girl." katsuki murmurs, feeling you start to shake as you reach your orgasm, cum seeping out of your pussy while he keeps swirling his skilled tongue over your tits. his narrowed eyes gleam up at you, "all ready for the day now, yeah?"

[sttm99]

Content warnings: swearing, making out, unedited

Prohero!Dynamight falls for the live wedding painter at his best friend's wedding

Dynamight is explosive in more ways than just his quirk.

When you see him in person for the first time whilst doing the live painting for Red Riot's wedding ceremony, he's all you see for a moment or two, and you're thankful you didn't mess up a chord at the sight of him.

His presence is overwhelming, taking up the space around him, sucking people in whilst simultaneously pushing them away.

He walks down the aisle with another pro-hero bridesmaid on his side before taking his place on the dais with the rest of the groomsmen, meters away from where you're standing before your easel.

Dynamight stands next to Chargebolt, his signature frown softer than usual as he watches his friend get married. You stare at him, eyes tracing the contours of his face as best as you can despite the distance as you work to capture his face in the painting.

He's a handsome man, you think, as you press quick strokes to his hair. When you look up again, he's staring at you, and the eye contact has your stomach dropping in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.

He looks away immediately Red Riot comes up, lightly patting his best friend's back in encouragement.

Once the music starts and the bride enters the hall, Dynamight is the last thing on your mind as you work to capture her. As you do so, you fail to notice the way he goes back to looking at you.

You set your things down at the corner of the large reception hall, beginning the second painting of the evening.

You smile softly at guests as they come to admire your work, trying your best to capture the bride's extravagant reception dress as she prances around the place gleefully.

You're focused as your work on her skirt piece, squinting as you paint across it delicately, so much so you don't notice the presence just behind you.

"You're good at this shit." You hear suddenly behind you. The voice is startling enough to draw your focus away, but not so much that you mess it up.

You glance behind you at the tall blonde male, fairly shocked at his presence. You'd assumed he wasn't the type for social interactions judging by how cold and aloof he was to most of the other guests.

"It is my job," You say as you turn back to your painting.

"I know." He walks forward, so he's beside you now, his gaze on the scene on you've done so far. "But this-" He pauses, glances at you then back ay the easel, "This is really fucking good. And you're fast. I saw the one you did at the ceremony."

You hum, a nice warmth coursing through you at the praise.

"Thank you, Dynamight." You turn to give him a small smile. Then you hold out your brush to him, "You wanna try?"

His eyes widen a bit and he quickly shakes his head. "Nah. I'll do a shit job, I promise you."

You laugh softly at how hesitant he was, but you could see the way he was eyeing the brush. "It's fine. You'll just make some strokes on the gown." You insist. "I'll guide you."

He pauses, looking straight at you as he mulls it over.

"Fine. Gimme that." He huffs as he takes the brush from you and stands closer, holding it over the board.

"Okay, so..." You hold his enclosed palm and bring the brush closer to the painting, making light strokes on the white gown of the bride.

Your eyes are on the painting, but his are on you, your face as you focus, your hand as it holds his, and a warmth begins to pool at his stomach.

"See?" You murmur with a small smile as you look back at him. Your cheeks redden just slightly when you see how he's already looking at you.

"Um... are you-"

"You should call me Bakugo," He says as he looks away from you and back at the painting. His voice is lower than before, and his disposition is less stiff.

"Oh." You just say quietly as he hands the brush back to you, unsure of what to say next.

"Now's when you tell me your name in return." He's quieter, and he's refusing to look at you.

You assume it's to hide the red you can see dusting his face.

"YN." You say to him as you take the brush back, a small smile on your face. He nods once and repeats it under his breath in a voice that almost makes you squirm.

"Is that me?" He asks quietly as he squints at a figure in one corner.

You look at it and nod. "Yep."

He hums, "And that's Soy Sauce face." He points at another figure you're sure is Cellophane. "Then Earphone Jack and the idiot. Deku, Half and Half-"

He goes on listing pro heroes by strangely accurate but offensive nicknames, and you can't help but find it incredibly funny.

He spends most of the reception with you as you paint, ignoring the weird way people look at him as he refuses to leave your side, even going as far as bringing you a plate of cake after it's been cut, and some other foods and drinks.

As the night ends and the guests leave, he's the last by your side before the newlyweds and their closer friends and family come over to see how far you've gone.

"It looks practically done," Mina says in awe.

You smile as you pack the rest of your things. "Almost. I'll have to do some finishing touches at the studio first, though. You should get them back in about a week."

They hum as they take some more looks.

Kirishima looks at Bakugo as he stands right next to your side. "You gonna follow her to the studio too?" He snorts at his friend, "Seeing as you couldn't leave her side, you might as well."

"Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair."

You laugh as you pack up the painting, "Anyways, I hope you guys had fun, and congratulations on getting married." You say as you begin to leave.

"I'll help you," Bakugo grumbles as he carries your large box of paints and brushes.

The look he gives you lets you know that he's not taking 'no' for an answer, which is how you found yourself outside the hall with him next to the car.

"Thank you, Bakugo, for the help." You say as you look up at him with a grin.

He stares you down with his regularly furrowed brows, his hands stuffed in his pocket as he thinks of what to say to keep you longer.

"Would it be inappropriate if I asked for your number?" He's so close you can smell him and it makes you feel fuzzy.

You grin. "Not at all."

He hands you his phone for you to out your number in, and as he watches you do it with your hands slightly stained with paint, he can't help but want to kiss you.

Would that be inappropriate? He's sure it will. You two just met. But still, he can't help but want to try.

Bakugo stuffs his phone back into his pockets the moment you hand it back, and he steps closer to you. His palms are sweaty, and he's trying to inconspicuously wipe them as they're stuffed in his trouser pockets.

"Would it also be inappropriate if I kissed you here?" His voice is husky as he asks and you can see the blush on his face.

He's so much different than the media paints him out to be, more awkward than mean, more aloof than nasty. But you think that maybe this persona, this Bakugo, is just for you.

You smile up at him shyly, your hands tightly clasped behind your back as you nod.

He doesn't hold your face because his palms are too sweaty. He doesn't think he can get them dry enough on time because he wants to kiss you now.

He leans forward, and you do too, and when his mouth meets yours, you're lightheaded. His lips are soft as he kisses you, and he moves them in a way that shows experience.

You smile into it, satisfied and still wanting more, and before you know it, his palms are on your waist, pulling you flush against his body and pressing his lips harder against your own.

When you pull away, his eyes are half lidded, but you can see how blown his pupils are.

"Good night, Bakugo." You whisper to him.

He pecks your cheek once before letting go, "Good night."

[earthtooz]

gn!reader, domesticity with aventurine, inspired by his latest art, reader calls aventurine 'good boy', unedited i wrote this bc im weak

"Alright. I understand. Let's schedule the interview for today."

It's bright. Too bright. The sun is in your eyes, what a rude way to be awakened.

Behind you, you hear the velvety voice of your lover and the indistinct chatter from the person you suspect he is calling. It is no strange occurrence for Aventurine to be on a call first thing in the morning, some business partner or boss of his ringing his phone before he can even roll out of bed.

At this point, you've grown too accustomed to it, so you merely roll over and wrap your arm around him, curling in to his side.

You don't get to see the smile on his face, but you can hear it in his voice as an arm of his wraps itself around you.

"I'll be there in an hour tops. Before then, try not to bother me too much." Aventurine hangs up the call, throwing his phone to the side and placing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good morning, pretty."

"Good morning, handsome," you murmur into the expensive silk of his sleepwear, sneaking your hand under the soft fabric to draw small hearts on the side of his ribs. "Do you need to leave?"

"I have some time beforehand. How'd you sleep?"

"Good. Want some more time with you, though."

You finally look up at him, perching yourself onto your elbow to meet his alluring gaze. Here, he admires the subtle ways sleep clings to your expression, the way you yawn and rub your eyes- oh, how fortunate he is to get to wake up beside you everyday.

"Shame, you should probably get up soon."

"Are you trying to kick me out?" He whines. "We still have a few minutes before I really need to get up."

You laugh affectionately and it's music to Aventurine's ears. "Last time you said that you were late by a considerable amount of time. Come on, the IPC needs you."

He sighs before rolling over, encasing you in his embrace. "The IPC can cry about it, I care about you more."

"How cute," you whisper before pressing a kiss on the space between his eyebrows, your action causing him to scrunch his nose. "But still, why don't I go prepare some breakfast for us?"

Aventurine grumbles something incoherent, but judging by the way his arms tighten around you, he's much prefers your current situation. "Can I get a kiss?"

You press one to the corner of his mouth and he scoffs. "That was nothing, give me a proper one."

"Only good boys get what they want," you reprimand.

"Pretty please?"

You smile before leaning in to gently slot your lips with his and Aventurine's heart skips a beat. It's an uncomfortable sensation but he's become accustomed to it, even falling in love with it. He'll fall in love with anything as long as it's you, even the vulnerable sensation of being helplessly devoted to another person.

It's perfect, if he could stay like this forever, he would.

You're perfect, he wants you to be by his side forever.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[littlegochu]

indelible│jjk 18+

in·del·i·ble

adjective

not able to be forgotten or removed: "i made an indelible impression on him."

"i want to watch the light drain from jeon jungkook's eyes the moment he realizes who i am."

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: mafia, cold male lead, girl boss female lead that makes the male lead headover heels eeeee

rating: 18+, smut

synopsis: my job was simple: get close to jeon jungkook, the man at the top, and feed my father everything he needs to burn their world to the ground.

falling for him was never part of the plan. but now every lie i’ve told is starting to unravel—and i’m not sure if i’m here to destroy him… or to save myself.

authors note: ngl this is soooo unedited help lmk if there's any mistakes or confusing parts

pls lmk if this post is unappealing to the eye IM NEW HERE OKAY

-

Two years ago.

They said I died in the attack.

My name, my face, my life—wiped out in one night of fire and gunfire, wrapped in the same headline that buried my brother: "Coordinated assault on Moretti estate leaves heir and daughter dead."

That's what the public saw. A bloody hit. A warning to the underworld. Proof that even the most feared families could bleed.

The family told the world I was gone.

Let them believe it. Let our enemies think they'd wiped out the heir and the daughter.

Let them feel powerful.

It gave me space to disappear. To bury my name. To become someone new.

Now, I am Gia.

Not Y/N Moretti. Not the girl who wore silk gowns and smiled at dinner parties.

Now I am silence, sharpened to a blade.

I don't know who gave the order that night. Not yet. But I know who carried it out. His face is still a shadow. His name, just a whisper.

But when I find him, he'll remember me.

And he'll wish I stayed dead.

-

Present day.

I live like a ghost, but I'm not hiding.

I'm waiting.

The man who killed my brother died two weeks ago. Jeon Jungwoo—also known as "The Judge"—the head of the Jeon syndicate, one of the most brutal men to ever breathe in Seoul's underworld. Ruthless. Tactical. My father's worst enemy. My brother's killer.

He's dead now. Liver failure. The coward rotted from the inside out, and still managed to escape without consequence. Without ever seeing my face.

But his son—the new king in his father's shadow—just took the throne.

Jeon Jungkook.

-

The first rule of stepping into a place owned by the man you plan to destroy: Don't look like prey.

Walk in like you belong. Like your face isn't a ghost he thought was buried six feet underground. Like your pulse isn't ticking just a little too fast beneath your skin.

I ordered a drink I wouldn't finish. Something clear. Strong. I wasn't here to get drunk—I was here to see him.

And then I did.

Jeon Jungkook.

He stood near the far end of the lounge, half-shadowed by the soft golden light, his posture quiet and watchful as a man beside him spoke. He wasn't nodding. Wasn't reacting. Just listening—or pretending to.

He didn't have to do much. The room shifted around him naturally.

My eyes trailed over him, slow, clinical.

"You've been up here a while," he says.

His voice is smoother than I expect—calm, low, like he’s not trying to impress me but still could if he wanted to.

I tilt my head, letting my gaze slide over him slowly. "You’ve been watching me a while."

He almost smiles. Doesn’t, but it’s there—tugging at the corners of his mouth like he’s not used to the urge.

Up close, he’s... unfair. Sharp jaw, dark eyes, a quiet intensity that hums off him like electricity just waiting for skin to touch. But it's not just that. It’s the way he looks at me—like he’s trying to place something. Like I’m not just a girl with a drink, but a thought he can't finish.

"You don’t look like someone who comes here often," he says, eyes still on mine.

"You do?" I counter.

He shrugs, effortlessly confident. "I own it."

Of course he does. That explains the presence. The way people glance over like they’re trying not to look too long. That explains the arrogance, too.

"That explains the arrogance," I say aloud.

That almost-smile deepens—again, not fully formed. Like he’s holding it back on purpose.

"Would it be alright if I asked your name?" he asks, and he sounds polite about it. Careful, even.

I lift my glass, sip slow, keep my eyes on his. "Gia."

It’s not a lie, not anymore. But it still feels like one in my mouth.

He watches me for a beat too long, then says, "I’m Jungkook."

No reaction from me. I don’t blink. Don’t flinch. I know that name. Everyone does. But I can’t afford to look impressed—and honestly, I’m not. Not yet.

He glances over my shoulder, subtle. A habit. A calculated one. When his eyes come back to mine, I haven’t moved.

"You’re not here for the drinks," he says.

"Neither are you."

His voice doesn't match the way I thought it would sound.

It's softer. restrained. Not the cold edge I expected from a man with blood on his name. His presence is heavy—yes—but not forceful. He doesn't try to impress me. Doesn't ask intrusive questions or throw power around to prove a point.

That makes him more dangerous.

Jungkook stands just far enough not to invade my space, but close enough to make his attention obvious. His eyes skim across the club behind me every few seconds, watching everything, but they always come back to me.

He's trying not to stare.

But he does.

Quick glances that linger half a second longer than they should. A flicker to my lips when I speak. The subtle pause when I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. His restraint is impressive—but not impenetrable.

He's looking.

And so am I.

I notice the way the light hits his features—jaw sharp, cheekbones high, lashes long enough to be criminal. There's a stillness to him that doesn't feel passive, but coiled. He's carved from silence, and yet I can tell he's the kind of man who speaks with purpose when he does speak.

Calculated. Controlled. But undeniably magnetic.

I hate that part of me notices.

But I let it.

Because attraction is a weapon, and right now, we're both holding the blade.

"You always talk to strangers in your own club?" I ask.

He huffs once—almost a laugh, more breath than sound. "No. I usually let them talk to me."

"Do I look like someone who does that?"

"Not even a little."

A beat passes.

He leans on the railing beside me, eyes flicking across the crowd as if it's second nature. He doesn't move much, but when he does, it's purposeful—every shift precise, like he's used to holding a room without saying a word.

"You said you own this club?"

"I inherited it," he says after a pause. "Same as everything else."

There's something dark beneath his tone. Not pity. Something heavier.

"And is it everything you wanted?"

"No. But that stopped mattering a long time ago."

He says it like a man who didn't get to choose what he became.

I finish my drink and set it on the ledge beside me. My fingers linger on the rim, and I catch his eyes flick to them—just briefly. Observant, focused, but not unaffected.

"You're not afraid of me," he says.

It's not a question.

"Should I be?"

His gaze holds mine a beat too long.

"No. But most people are."

"Maybe they don't know the difference between fear and fascination."

The corner of his mouth twitches. A near-smile. It's gone as quickly as it appears.

He opens his mouth again, and that's when I feel it.

Not from him.

From behind him.

I glance over his shoulder, letting my expression stay cool, but my pulse thunders.

One of his guards is walking along the edge of the upper floor, responding to a subtle nod from one of the other men below. He moves with purpose. Height, frame, scar under his right eye.

That scar.

My stomach knots.

It's him.

He was there. In my house. That night. One of the men who helped tear it apart. I remember him stepping over my brother's body. Holding the rifle like it was a natural extension of his arm.

He's older now, but I know him. I'd know that face even if the world went dark.

Jungkook shifts beside me. "Excuse me," he murmurs. "I'll be right back."

I nod. Calm. Still. Controlled.

He turns and heads for the stairs.

And I disappear.

Not through the main floor. I slip around the curve of the balcony, take the opposite staircase, and vanish into the crowd below.

Just as I reach the back of the club, I hear it.

A single gunshot.

Then screaming.

Glass shattering.

I press against a column, eyes scanning for the threat. Chaos swells. Jungkook's men move like clockwork—fast, silent, lethal.

And there he is—the man with the scar. Blood blooming across his side. He stumbles, raises a weapon.

Another shot.

He drops.

Just like that, the last man from that night—the last loose thread—bleeds out onto the floor of Jungkook's club.

I don't wait for the dust to settle.

I slip out the side exit and walk three blocks before I let myself breathe.

Not from fear.

From focus.

It worked.

He noticed me. Saw me.

More than that—he looked.

And now, he'll wonder why the woman who wasn't afraid of him vanished without a trace.

Let him wonder.

Let him remember.

This was just the beginning.

authors note: hey! im new to the tumblr platform for fics and all that stuff buttt i just wanted to upload a snippet of one of my wattpad stories! if you're interested in this story, check out the completed book on my wattpad ,,,, i could also post on here but probably move quicker than the wattpad version anyway pls comment what you think so far!

https://www.wattpad.com/littlegochu?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_profile

[teeayohess]

{ 18 simlish horror-themed recolors of misstiikeri+eir's m2f crooked tee } what a mouthful lmao

i wasn't too sure about how these had turned out at first, but after seeing them in game they actually grew on me, so here they are. thank you @gvaudoiin-tricou for encouraging me to finish them and share! i hope you like them :-)

since this is essentially a mash-up of several people's work (see credits), frankenstein-ed together, it feels pretty appropriate for the theme.... 🧟‍♂️🔪🦇🩸👽 consider this a tiny late simblreen treat, hehe 🎃

these separate tops are for AF only*, since that's what i needed in my game (but the TF/EF meshes should be easy to copy-paste onto) [edit: *added links to an AM version as well]

they are categorized as everyday, sleepwear and athletic (not sure who would want to sleep or exercise in fishnets but hey i'm not judging. also it's really easy to remove them if you like, since they're a separate texture from the shirt)

compressorized, tooltipped, and the files are labeled clearly. the swatch and previews are included in the rar file.

full disclosure, this mesh has a few issues i don't currently have the skills to fix: it has no fat morph (😑), and there is some clipping in places depending on how the sim moves, and a few dark spots (not super noticeable with the black texture, thankfully). if anyone feels inspired to fix the mesh or add morphs, i'll happily update this post and the linked file.

>>> get them here: { SFS } { MF } [edit: AM version here: { SFS } { MF } ]

credits, swatch & unedited pic under the cut.

swatch: (labeled according to the file names for easy id; i suck at reading simlish so 'flash' was all i could understand from that one, apologies if it's incorrect lol)

unedited preview: (taken in-game, with neutral lighting)

credits: the77sims & misstiikeri (original male mesh & 3t2 conversion) eir (m2f conversion) trillyke (fishnets), monilisasims (4t2 conversion) littlecakes (graphics), kalux (4t2 conversion) surprisepeach (graphics)

[bambisnc]

     [kill the romeo] or, how zerobaseone would break generic cliches!

 PAIRING : ot9 x reader! GENRE : crack + fluff CW/TW : rushed i js wanted this  outta drafts/uneditted D: WC : 0.8k approx SUGGESTED 🎧: all of cinema  paradise actually XOXO : eeeeeeeeee + [m.list]

౨ ˖ 성한빈 : SUNG HANBIN ৎ ⋆

[miscommunication? nah too much communication] - i take no arguments. bro will Talk out everything and anything and we love that for him. there will be no unnecessary miscommunication drama in his household. it's like he has his green flag video game stats maxed out completely

౨ ˖ 김지웅 : KIM JIWOONG ৎ ⋆

[... there's too many beds] - this guy will nawt be caught slipping. any time you get mysteriously stranded and have to spend the night at a hotel all alone with him, he will make sure to book 2 separate rooms by hook or by crook (he behaves really nicely and politely with the hotel staff and they just melt and give in to his demands >.<). it's a whole other topic that by the end of the night either you or him take the initiative to softly knock at the other's door because you "jus' can't seem to fall asleep.."

౨ ˖ 章昊 : ZHANG HAO ৎ ⋆

[really, really nice guy who hates only you] - an absolute model of the sweetest guy ever ™ for some reason acting like an absolute hater *only* towards you. but plot twist (because if he actually hated us i couldn't deal w that.) his prickly, irritated, downright bitchy behavior towards you is due to him not knowing how to be normal around you without putting on some kind of a facade. due to yk. him being head over heels in love w you (yes i'm delusional.) the confession would finally be yelled out in the middle of an argument over some random, irrelevant issue neither of you actually care about, thanks for asking

          ⋅ ˚ ଳ ₊ ‧ others utc

౨ ˖ 석매튜 : SEOK MATTHEW ৎ ⋆

[.......... fake amnesia. we listen and we don't judge please] - going out on such a limb here but okay hear me out what if someone confessed to him. and he didn't know how to reply. so he. faked being an amnesiac. and obviously the person who confessed was worried so they like idk called you, his friend, up for help. cut to you reaching there like ???? wtf and him being like i'm sorry :) please help :). and obviously delicious shenanigans ensue afterward yum yum

౨ ˖ 김태래 : KIM TAERAE ৎ ⋆

[Way Too Hot to cuddle] - super specific winter based scenario but imagine you want to initiate more physical contact w your bf but don't exactly know how to say it so you mess around with the heater, to have a convenient excuse, but instead of lowering the intensity of the heat just a tad you accidentally. max the heat settings. and also break the heat adjustor. oops. it may be literally snowing outside but it's basically an entire sauna in there. you do Not know how to fix it.

(when you eventually end up asleep though, taerae simply takes out the plug of the heater right before wrapping you up in a huge comfy embrace :P)

౨ ˖ 沈泉锐 : SHEN QUANRUI ৎ ⋆

[true hate's kiss <3] - dipping into fantasy territory for the most royalty manhwa coded guy ever. you're cursed by some petty witch for whatever reason with the condition that only a kiss from your enemy would break it but for some reason didn't know about the condition. and in universe, you and ricky would already be rivals but when he found out about your curse as well as how it could broken (he's super smart/has connections okay just roll with it) he'd go out of his way to hide his own feelings piss you off more and more till your hatred is at an all time high. when you finally burst and strike a heated argument with ricky he ends up kissing you. (the audience cheers)

wait also imagine if after he kisses you nothing happens. the curse doesn't lift. wasn't the condition for your enemy to kiss you? so even if you were the only one who hated him it should've worked, no? ..

alternatively. the curse is lifted when he kisses you. but!! you don't know that. and him kissing you out of the blue would only lead to you being even madder at him. ong the angst potential is SOARING. do you guys get what i mean

god do i need to write a fic for this.

౨ ˖김규빈 : KIM GYUVIN ৎ ⋆

[everyone being convinced that you aren’t actually dating] - when you end up confessing to best friend!gyuvin and learning that he, in fact, likes you back, you start dating and couldn't be happier. except that ... literally no one believes it. you could be literally making out in front of all your friends and they'd be like haha! classic gyuvy/n like ...... gyuvin obviously would never let go of the opportunity to suggest actually getting married "only to show them that you're together frfr"

౨ ˖박건욱 : PARK GUNWOOK ৎ ⋆

[accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss?!?!] - unrealistic coded but let me set the scene. your roommate asks you to fake-kidnap one of their friends for a surprise birthday party and you comply. but!! you didn't what the person looked like. meaning the vague description you were texted was all you had to go off of. and well. obviously that doesn't go well. you end up coaxing gunwook over to your place only for your roommate to be absolutely flabbergasted and in a terrified tone, tell you that you have the wrong person. who just so happens to be rather notoriously well known. all while he sits there like :]

౨ ˖ 한유진 : HAN YUJIN ৎ ⋆

[love triangle but plot twist the two love interests get together instead] - school au where both of you have a crush on the class president-! constant competition and trying to one-up the other for their attention wraps up yujin and you in such a whirlwind that neither of you can actually tell when it stopped being about wooing the pres but instead became all about subtly trying to make the other jealous so they would finally take the first step

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k24

[admirationandromantics]

Chocolates

Fucking hell, the way I had to take several breaks from this. Most intense writing I think I've done. Anyway, this was also a request (plus a little creative freedom from me), so hope you like it. Also think this is kinda intense, so I'll have warnings. Everyone should already know my blog is 18++ also.

Warnings: drugging (kinda), fingering, penetration, p in v, unprotected, pleading, teasing, edging, heavy buildup, overstimulation (fr), blowjob.

I think that's it, at least I hope. Don't stop sending requests! I promise, I see them, but it takes some time to write these things <3

Word count: 3,6k (Unedited)

I put the warm drinks on the table, taking the controller and turning on the tv. Josh and I were going to have a movie night, the last get-together before christmas. Sadly, everyone else left early to go home, and the only ones still on campus were us. I didn’t mind though, usually enjoying his company the most. Except for when he jumps me or pranks me, that little shit. The little love I have for him immediately fades, and I feel nothing but contempt for at least five minutes. His warm behaviour usually fixes my temper. 

“What do you want to watch?” I shout to the kitchen, scrolling though several. 

“A Christmas one!” 

I move to the Christmas category, unsure about what to pick. I could put on a sappy romance, a scary one or something like that. I decide to take the romantic one. He’ll hate it, considering his specific taste in movies. I turn it on, pausing while waiting for him to join me on the couch. 

“And here we are” he exclaims, walking over and putting a bowl of candy in front of us. It’s filled with a variety, chocolate, gummies, and sour jellies. I am quick to grab one on the top, putting it in my mouth. The sourness gets to me, and I have to fight a grimace from appearing. 

“What are we watching?” he sits down beside me, arm going over the back of the couch. 

“Something great” I smile, unpausing it and letting it roll. The movie name appears, and he sighs. 

“Really? This crap?” 

“Shut up Washington, you could’ve picked it you were here”

“I was in the other room!” 

“Shhh, pay attention” I put my finger in front of his lips, eyes still plastered on the screen. This is a great movie after all. A sudden sharpness is felt on my hand, and I jolt at the sensation. To my left, Josh bit my finger, his tongue gracing over it slightly. I pull it away, drying it on his sweater. 

“You’re disgusting” He only laughs, that playful smile on his lips. 

“Not as disgusting as this movie’s gonna be” I roll my eyes at his remark. 

“Have you seen it before?” 

“No” 

My mouth opens wide in surprise. How dare he judge before even having seen it. I shake my head, looking back on the screen and urging him to do the same. I take the bowl of candy, placing it on his lap for easy access, without having the responsibility of keeping it steady. 

During the film, I occasionally look over at him, and he’s always paying attention to it. He likes it, I know. I can’t help the smile that creeps on my face. I move closer, head resting on his chest as we continue watching. 

“Chocolate?” he asks, one arm going around my body. I open my mouth in response, and he takes one out of the bowl, putting it in my mouth. This is not unusual for us, normally being close and touchy. I guess that’s the type of person he is. Maybe it grounds him, or makes him feel secure. I suck and bite, swallowing the piece of candy not long after. It tastes weird, and I take a normal gummy to get rid of the flavour. 

As we keep going, he often feeds me small pieces of chocolate, and I let him. I know he brought it, and it was some expensive shit he bought a while ago. I don’t want to be ungrateful, so I keep swallowing them. 

Twenty minutes go by, and I feel my body heating up, chest heaving a bit. I look around, wondering what happened to the temperature. 

“You good?” he asks, looking over at me. 

“Um, yeah. Is it hot in here?” 

“No, we opened the windows before the movie” 

I nod in response, trying to ignore the warm feelings creeping through my body. Another ten minutes go by, and I feel crazy. I refuse to believe that a small room with an open window can be this warm in the middle of winter. Do I have a fever? Am I sick? 

I suddenly feel very aware of his hand on my arm. Thumb rubbing regularly up and down. A shiver runs through me, thinking about the other things his finger might do. This is not an unusual thought, but I’ve never gotten so worked up so quickly from it. My heat aches for stimulation, and I press my legs together instinctively. Don’t start rubbing, don’t start rubbing. You’re literally laying on top of him for goodness sake, I keep chanting to myself. My breath quickens, and I try to stabilise it, now wanting him to see me like this. Why am I getting so incredibly worked up? 

His hand suddenly grabs my arm hard, letting go as quickly as he squeezed. I let out an uncontrollable gasp, my hand racing to my mouth to stop any other sounds from coming out. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine” 

“You got a sore spot here or something? So sorry” he apologies, arm going further down, stopping on my waist. Shit, I should've kept my mouth shut. Every part of me feels like a sore spot, each caress and small movement making me leak. God, there was definitely going to be water damage on the sofa if he kept touching me. 

The worst part is that he isn’t even touching me inappropriately, hand just resting on the side of my waist. His fingers trace the hem of my shirt, sliding a little under it, touching my bare skin. He’s caressing me, skin to skin. God how I want him to continue. 

This is not normal. Feeling these feelings so intensely as I am right now. How did it come to this? Have I been touch-deprived, sex-starved? I pleasure myself regularly, so I don’t know why this sudden wave has come over me. I can only think of one thing to do. 

“I-I have to go to the bathroom” I whisper, feeling cripplingly erotic and needy. It feels like a thirst I’m unable to clench, like I’m about to come at any given moment. I try to stand up, feeling my legs almost give out. This was not gonna be easy. I walk, but am stopped by a hand holding mine. 

“The movie is almost over, can’t you wait a bit?” he smiles. It’s kind of guilty, but I don’t react to it. Instead wondering how his lips feel on my-

“Okay, sure” 

I sit back down, now beside him and not on top. Maybe this’ll help. Before I’m able to calm down, his hand moves under my thigh, dragging my legs over him, causing my back to hit the couch. Fuck. I’ve never been so turned on in my life, imagining him slamming me down, slowly moving from my legs and up. 

His hand graces up and down my thigh in a rhythmic motion, each slide giving me goosebumps and getting me wetter. I kill a couple of whimpers trying to escape my mouth, biting my lips to stop a loud gasp. 

I haven’t paid attention to the movie, my eyes are either on him, imagining filthy things, or closed, trying to regulate my breathing and sounds. He keeps eating from the bowl, but never the chocolate, only the other candies. He loves chocolate, why isn’t he eating? Has he done something to it? Like that time I tasted a clump of cayenne pepper in my popcorn. 

“Eat the chocolate” I order him, and his face shifts to me. He smirks, knowing that I’ve figured something out. 

“Why?” 

“Because you’ve done something to it” 

“No I haven’t” 

“If you haven’t, then eat it” 

He still keeps his smirk intact, holding eye contact while taking a piece and putting it in his mouth. I feel confusion wash over me, adding another feeling to the bothering emotional mess I am right now. If he ate it, he didn’t do anything to it. 

“There you go, would you like me to eat another one princess?” he teases, hand moving from the outside of my thigh to between them, making me smack them shut on him. The nickname, the eye contact, smirk, teasing and his movements. My hand flies to my mouth, looking away as I try to contain my sounds. 

“Struggling a bit?” 

I look over at him again. He knows what he’s done, and I know it too. His teasing nature and playful expression. He’s loving this. 

“You fucking -ahh!” his hand moves lower, fingertips grabbing my flesh, leading me to stop mid sentence. 

“Careful, you seem a bit worked up” 

“No shit Josh!” I yell, becoming a hot mess. He laughs in response, taking another chocolate and putting it in his mouth, tongue going a little out of his mouth to catch the thin slice. 

“What the hell Josh!” 

“What?” he acts innocent, trying to hold his laugh. 

“Why did you do this to me, I thought I was going crazy”

“Aren’t you usually?”

“Josh!” 

“Okay, okay, just wanted to see if they worked and didn’t want to placebo myself, so I had to try another method”

“And that was me?” 

“Damn right” 

“Jesus Christ” 

He starts laughing, fingers still gracing up and down my legs, making me bite my lips. No way this man was gonna get any more satisfaction out of me. 

“It was worth it”

“Worth it?”

“Seeing you squirming under me the whole time, struggling to keep quiet. Every little touch, even the ones I didn’t mean to give gave such grand reactions” 

“God I hate you”

“Do you really?” 

“Ye- fuck!” his hand moves over to my heat, tender touches in a teasing manner. My hips automatically jolt, pulling myself closer to him. 

“Fucking hell, you’re desperate for me” 

“Don’t you have anything to wear off the effects of this thing?” I plead, my body turning to putty from his touches. 

“I mean, no, we could fuck it out but-” 

“Yes do that” 

His expression changes to surprise as I keep squirming, desperate for some type of release or friction. I could literally come from a single touch right now, so close to the edge. 

“Nah” he shrugs, throwing my legs off him and taking another piece of chocolate. 

“What?”

“You’re desperate, you don’t know what you want” 

“I swear to god Josh, if you don’t-”

“What are you gonna do? Your body is so tensed up right now that you can barely take a step” he crosses his arms, biting his lip slightly. 

“Josh, please” 

“No” 

“Fucking hell” I gasp, throwing my head back to contain myself. He looks over at my pathetic mess of a girl. 

“I mean, I guess it would be different if you did it with someone you’ve actually wanted for some time” 

He knows something, he must know something. Why else would he pine me like this, trying to get a confession out of me. I have to give out, my body needy and pining. I sit up, placing myself on his lap so we’re face to face. He only smirks in response. Of course he knows, I haven’t exactly tried to hide my feelings. 

“What?” 

“You know what” I state, closing the distance and kissing him. He returns it, hands going to my upper thighs, getting me to grind on his already hard boner. His face pulls away, already a breathing mess. 

“I want you to tell me, tell me you love me” 

I lean forwards, barely touching our lips. 

“I love you Josh” 

His hand moves to the back of my neck, pulling me into him in a sloppy kiss. He gets rougher, teeth biting down on my lower lip. My arms go around him, tugging at his sweater from behind. He leans forward, letting me pull it off and throw it on the floor. He does the same to me, not even looking at my bra before clasping it off as well. He’s not in his right mind, eyes glossy and lustful. Is this how I’ve been looking the entire evening? He goes straight for the kill, kissing and biting my collar and chest, taking my boob and leaving dark marks all over. 

None of us can control the sounds we make, the room filling up with groans, whimpers and moans. He tries to take my pants off, and I sit up so they make it down to my knees. I pull them off the rest of the way, leaving them with our tops. His hand goes down to my heat, feeling the soaked panties. 

“Christ, you’re wet” 

“I’ve been trying to tell you” 

“Something has to be done then” 

He moves the fabric to the side, fingers gracing my folds all the way up to my clit. My breath hitches, and I push myself against him. A small snicker leaves his lips as my head rests on his shoulders. My hips buckle, trying to take advantage of his fingers. 

“I want to see you” he whispers in my ear, his other hand pushing me back down on his lap, face to face. He inserts two of his fingers, fascinated by my blushing mess of an expression and sounds. I start moving, trying to get more out of him, and he smirks at my attempt. My hand flies down to do it myself, but he’s too quick, grabbing my wrist and placing my hand on his shoulder. He loves this, having full control when I’m not even able to control myself. His fingers start pumping in and out, thumb rubbing my clit at the same time. How does he do it? How is he so good at this? The tightened knot in my stomach finally pulls, and I come all over him, only feeling ecstasy for a small moment before a new tension starts building up. 

“Already ready for more? This is gonna be a long night” 

“Shut up and do your thing Josh” 

“Harsh words coming from you when you’re at my mercy” 

“Wait for the chocolate to hit and let’s see how you feel then” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll keep going” His fingers continue their attack, the other hand pushing my body against him, giving him access to my neck. He moves away the stray hairs, and starts kissing my collar. Wet and weak ones, some barely touching. I cry out as I come again, euphoria and dizziness overtaking me. I hold his shoulders firmly, needing to set my balance. He smirks against my skin, keeping his pace and technique, ready to get me going again. 

My body is already tired, but the effects of the chocolate still rushes through my body, making me all hot and bothered again. 

“Come on, you can do it one more time for me” 

His words fuel me, making me wetter and desperate. I need him inside me, I need to feel him. 

“Josh…” I whimper, his fingers working their magic, and stacking a third orgasm on me as I come. He laughs. 

“This is actually awesome” 

“You sound like a child” I say, breathless and sloppy. 

“I’m just fascinated” 

“God I hate you” I whimper, the tension already starting to build up again. How much of this substance did he give me?

“If this is hate then I’m loving it” he smirks, cheeks red and face hot. He’s starting to feel the effects, and I know it. I lower myself on him, pushing down and grinding. His head falls back as he groans, hands flying to my hips, guiding me. I look down, and start messing with his pants, unbuttoning it and gliding down the zipper. He’s hard, making a tent in his boxers. I grab him, earning a small whimper in reply. 

“Cat got your tongue Joshy?” I tease, getting wetter by the way I treat him. Oh, how he was gonna get back. I jump off him, sitting down below the couch and pulling his pants down. I do the same with his boxers, leaving him naked in front of me. I take it in, seeing how beautiful he’s in the dim yellow light. My eyes fly over his toned stomach, each curvation being highlighted by the shine. He’s breathing heavily, heaving almost. I notice the slight twitch of his hand, fingers struggling to stop themselves. He wants to get off, and he’s trying not to. 

I’m not going to be that mean, and I lean forward, grabbing hold of his dick, slowly jerking up and down. He falls back yet again, finally feeling the pleasure he’s been craving. My other hand goes to take off my underwear, sliding the fabric off my feet. I push myself forward, taking a long lick over his shaft, making him let out a choked moan. With my lips at his tip, I take him in, as much as possible. My hand still remains on the base of him, still moving. My head follows the movement, bopping myself up and down as the tip reaches the back of my throat. 

I feel tears in the corners of my eyes, struggling not to fall. I can’t help the sounds coming out of me as I keep up the pace. His hands take hold of my head, forcing it up and down. 

“Yes, yes, just like that” he moans, desperate and needy. I let him work my head, grabbing my hair harshly. My hand wanders to my heat, rubbing and stimulating the area. I look up, his eyes wild and lips wet. He starts twitching in my mouth, letting me know he’s nearing his edge. He stops mid-push, slowly dragging my head off him, making a loud pop-sound. I relax in his hands, feeling his thumb clean off my chin. 

“Get up here” 

I oblige, getting on top of him again and colliding. Our lips lock, tongues fret as we make out. He slowly moves us, leaning my back down on the sofa. My hands wander to the back of his neck pulling him closer. I’ve never wanted someone so close before, needing to feel him all over me, to touch me everywhere, cage me, lay on top of me, just melt into me. His hand grabs my jaw, tilting my face to the side as he leaves kisses down my neck and stomach. He hoists my legs upon his shoulders before taking a lick over my heat. 

“Fuck” 

He keeps going, sucking and stimulating my clit, making me come over his mouth. He doesn’t stop, fingers moving inside me, making me get off and keep the euphoric high I’m drunk on. I get dizzier as he continues, trying to milk me all dry. I come again, throwing my head back and crying out. Tears of pleasure and pain fall down my cheeks, breath hitching and desperate. 

He moves over to me, letting me taste myself on his tongue. He looks satisfied, at least a little. Proud of himself and his accomplishments tonight. I stroke his hair, pushing it out of the way. He’s gorgeous. Breathless, sweaty, horny and beautiful. 

“Are you okay?” 

I smile, nodding in response. “I’ve never felt better” 

He smiles, too tired to keep up his cocky persona. I feel his dick gracing my entrance, begging to be let in. I lean towards him, signalling for him to get into me, to fill me up. He does as told, slowly pushing himself in, my walls surrounding him. It goes easily because of our arousals, juices mixing and spilling. He gets all the way in, and I gasp at his size. He doesn’t waste time, moving quickly, going all the way out before slamming into me again. The window is still open, probably making the whole neighbourhood hear us. His hand moves to my clit, rubbing as he continues moving. 

“Josh…” 

“Yeah, I’m here”

“I’m gonna” 

I cum again, body almost shutting down. I can’t move my arms or legs, the overstimulation and continuous cumming making me sore and exhausted. I tighten around him, not meaning to, and he moans my name. He leans over, kissing me and making us swallow each other's sounds. I come again, legs twitching and core tightening again. Pain and pleasure mix as they run through my spine and up to my head, coming out as yet another scream. 

“You’re doing so well for me” he whispers, voice choked and tired. He was almost done, almost done getting off from being with me, in me. A last deep thrust seals it, and his head falls in the crook of my head as he comes and twitches. 

We’re both breathing heavily, trying to calm our pulse. As the chocolade wears off, I sense how sore I am, how tired and destroyed my whole body is. At the same time, it’s filled with happiness. I’ve had sex with Josh Washington, my Josh, who loves me. 

A kiss on my neck brings me back to reality, and I look down to see that he’s gained his strength back. That was fast. 

“So, did you like the chocolate?” 

“I’m gonna kill you” 

“You can try, but that doesn’t stop the fact that you love me, and just came like… how many times?” 

“Jesus Christ” 

“That’s what I thought” 

His hand moves to caress my stomach, and I suddenly feel really cold. The room is freezing, and I shuffle closer to him, stealing his warmth. 

“Want to take a shower?” 

“If I can walk” I smile, not really knowing how to get up. 

“Luckily, I’ve got arms” he teases, standing up and taking hold of me. 

“I’m still gonna kill you”

“Sure you are”

[pfhwrittes]

have some domestic price x gender neutral reader fluff that floated into my head.

pairing: john price x gender neutral reader

word count: 711

tags/triggers: domesticity, fluff, humour, pet names (love), mild bashing of the reader character's sister, slightly older than canon john price, long term relationship, no Y/N, 2nd person POV.

a/n: unedited as per usual. please don't interact with my writing if you're under the age of 18 despite this being a fluffy little something. also, i'm not judging people that want to get married or have kids, you do you but this is for those of us that don't want either of those things.

"john, what do you think about getting married?" you ask as casually as possible between sips of tea as your long term partner perches on the sofa next to you, his eyes focused on the liverpool game on the telly.

"i think you called it a "monument to compulsive monogamy and heterosexuality" and then you swore loudly about henry the eighth for twelve minutes on our first date." he replies before groaning loudly as his team bungle a free kick.

you smile into the rim of your mug because, yes you did say and do that when he brought it up all those years ago.

"mm, i know. one of my better rants i think."

john's hiss of triumph as one of the little red shirts on the screen peters off into discontented grumbling as half time is called and you place your mug on the coffee table.

john turns to face you when you settle back into the deep cushions and you trace the salt-and-pepper in his beard with loving eyes. if there's one thing you can say about retired captain john price it's that he's only got better with age, much like the whiskey he has stashed in the spare room/office. forty six is a damned good look on this man.

"what's got you asking about marriage, love?" john questions you with a raised eyebrow and you grumble, curse your overly observant partner. even when he's distracted his mind is still turning over every interaction and sniffing out a motive.

you sigh.

"my sister is having a baby."

"christ, really?" he looks so scandalised that you laugh at his expression. it's a familiar one when the topic of your younger sister is brought up, a combination of bafflement and mild disgust that pulls his mouth down into a frown even as his eyebrows reach up towards his hairline.

"mm." you make a noise of agreement.

"with the estate agent?"

"yep." you pop the 'p' obnoxiously.

"christ. she's only known him for five minutes," he shakes his head disapprovingly before reaching for your hand to give it a squeeze, "but what does this have to do with us getting married, hm?"

you shrug a little helplessly as he strokes his thumb over your knuckles.

"i don't know, i just started thinking when she sent me a copy of her scan and -"

"of course she did." john interrupts you with a weary sigh. "your sister is nothing but a self centred cow and i'm positive she sent it to you to get you to feel bad."

he looks at you, pinning you in place with a fond sort of sternness that you had seen a few times before when kyle had been over for dinner espousing his worries about being the right man for the job.

"listen to me when i say this, yeah?" he taps your knuckles with his thumb gently to make sure you're fully focused on him, "i'm happy exactly as we are, love. i don't need a bit of paper telling me that we're bound together for the rest of eternity. god knows we already are, what with the mortgage and the bloody cat."

"be nice john, she's a sweetheart." you chide as you glance over at your middle aged tortoiseshell moggy curled up on the armchair.

"she's a bloody demon and you know it." john snorts good-naturedly as the cat in question makes a noise similar to a creaky gate at the sound of his voice.

he releases your hand so that he can reel you into his side to press a kiss to your temple.

"stop trying to distract me with the cat and stop focusing on your bloody sister. you've never wanted to get married and that's one of the reasons i love you, you silly arse."

the small knot of worry you'd been carrying since the start of the conversation unwinds and you release a long breath, taking the opportunity to snuggle into his side more comfortably.

"i love you too."

john simply presses another kiss your temple in response as the football match starts again and you settle in to enjoy an evening with your not-husband.

(tomorrow you'll threaten him with a rolled up tea towel after you find that he texted your sister off your phone calling her baby scan a "badly made lasagne".)

[ink-n-shadow]

Hi, do you write smut? If so, please listen to me 🫣

Just Ghost away from reader for more than a week, and he misses her very much, so he calls her. In the middle of the conversation, she can hear moans and sighs coming from him and the rest you already know👀

using translator again :^

Btw can i be anon - 🫀? (Idk how to ask💀)

another anon added to my list <3 thank you for the request ;-;

I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING

𝜗𝜚 the one where simon calls you on deployment and he's lonely

𝜗𝜚 pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), phone sex, simon doesn't tell fem!reader what he's doing at first, mutual masturbation, mentions of unprotected sex (pls wrap it up guys), sweet!simon 𝜗𝜚 note: this is so unedited and i'm half-asleep so pls don't judge

eight days, thirteen hours, and forty-seven minutes. that's how long it had been since simon had left for deployment. not like you were counting.

it was only a day and six hours longer than the last time he called you. not that you were mad—you knew better than to expect simon to risk his life to simply call while in the middle of a warzone. which is why you waited, although impatiently.

so as soon as you were curled up on the couch midday, lounging with a book in your hand and glasses perched on your nose, and you saw simon's contact flicker across your vibrating phone on the coffee table, you practically pounced on it. your fingers fumbled with the call button as you brought the smart phone to your ear. "hello?"

a soft hum filled the other line, a comforting hum that sent tendrils of warmth and familiarity spreading through your gut. "hey, sweet thing." from over the phone, you could hear the crickets and cicadas surrounding simon, a cacophony of noise that was only drowned out by his gravelly rumble.

"did you make it alright?" you asked softly as you rested back against the arm of the couch, pushing your bookmark into the spine of your book and snapping it shut.

simon let out another long puff of air, taking a small moment to answer. "aye—we're fine, lovie. no need to worry that pretty little head, 'lright? now tell me what you did so far today—just wanna hear you talk for a bit."

beneath the blanketing noise of cicadas and crickets, you could hear a soft, rhythmic schlick, schlick noise—one that you knew all to well.

simon was definitely fucking his cock up into his fist.

“i know what you’re doin’.” you whispered over the phone softly, sinking deeper into the leather of your couch and pulling the knitted blanket you had draped over your lap higher. “i can hear it.”

your words forced a low groan from simon’s mouth, almost sounding like a growl with how close he was to the cellphone microphone. the rhythm of his hand slicking up and down his heated skin ramped up in tempo. “oh yeah? and what d'ya hear, sweet girl?”

everything. you could hear the way simon’s spit-soaked fingers squelched a bit around the girth of his cock. you could hear the way he twisted his wrist ever so slightly near the tip, just enough to have his hips canting up at the sensation. you could hear every pant, moan, growl that threatened to spill from his lips, to escape the cage of his mouth like a starved tiger.

"y'know you could've just told me, right?" you breathed softly into the phone, eyes fluttering closed as your brain scrambled to create an image of what simon might've looked like in that moment. " i would've started sayin' filthy things a long time ago."

"c'mon, lovie—y'know i don't last long with that dirty little fuckin' mouth of yours." simon scoffed out a pinched laugh, letting it bleed out into a soft groan as he squeezed the base of his cock to keep himself from busting then and there. "miss you. miss havin' you here with me."

it was your turn to let out a soft laugh and teasing words. "you're just saying that because your cock's throbbing right now."

simon growled at your words, the pace of his hand slicking up and down his arousal growing ever quicker, faster, needier. your filthy words were working."not true. i miss you even when m'not trying to fuckin' cum, lovie."

"i can tell you're close, si." you purred over the phone, your free hand trailing down the front of your body and hooking around the waistband of the sweatpants you were wearing. pulling them down to your mid thighs, your fingers slid into the fabric of your panties with a soft hiss. "your breathing gets all heavy. you get all growly, all loving and soft. you wanna cum, huh?"

"god." simon all but whimpers, hips stuttering slightly in their rhythm as he forced his cock up into his open palm. "y'know me so well, lovie. so. fuckin'. well—fuck, need to cum. wanna cum for you, sweetheart."

the pads of your fingers slipped and slid around your wet heat, bumbling slightly against your clit as you tried to focus solely on pushing simon over the edge. your lips curled into a devious smirk. "yeah? wish you could be here while you cum—maybe i'd let you fill me up this time. oh—yeah, you like that, huh? just wanna fuck me till i'm leaking and dripping with you, huh?"

simon couldn't even give you a warning that he was about to cum, instead just letting out a chest-ripping growl as he finally plunged over the edge. his breathing was ragged, filled with uneven potholes that caused his breath to catch in his chest.

the squelching and schlicking noise had subsided, replaced by simon regaining his composure and your soft, panted breath. you were certain you were being quiet as you stroked your wet heat with the tips of your fingers—that was until simon spoke up huskily.

“i know what you’re doin’. lovie.”

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do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission