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#back into the lady pool
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i think jo tickles our brainworms now because she is so deeply entrenched in that sweet sweet 2006 misogny which so many of us can relate to. not only is the way dean responds to her incredibly patronising and sexist but the way she pushes herself to meet an unachievable representation of cool girl is so visible. she's not like other girls but she's still beautiful she's one of the guys but she's still feminine she wants to be a good hunter but she's still not allowed to hunt she is just a character full of traits which run parallel to each other. desperate to be the unattainable. there is an ambiguity in the show itself to whether she is a good hunter or not - which perception of jo is more true, dean or her own? the 2006 misogny is internalised, it is intrinsic to her character and it is so, unendingly, relatable
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lokiiied · 1 year
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WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS???
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catofoldstones · 5 months
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I'm sorry but the post breaking down the Arya-Jeyne-North angle makes no sense. The Boltons are claiming Winterfell through the marriage to Arya aka Jeyne who is considered the Lady of Winterfell by her own birthright. They're not trying to claim Winterfell was given to them by the crown or no longer belongs to the Starks. Ramsay didn't even want to get married at Winterfell when Roose made the call to move the wedding location from Barrowton. He's claiming himself Lord of Winterfell the same way he claimed himself Lord of Hornwood through the forced marriage to Lady Donella and even Lady Dustin says him keeping his title is dependent on how he treats his wife. He needs the marriages to claim those titles, not the other way around. At no point in Dance is Jeyne ever considered Lady Bolton, she's always called Lady Arya. That's like arguing Sansa's marriage to Tyrion means the claim to Winterfell comes from Tyrion, not Sansa.
You can argue that Jeyne and Ramsay's marriage is invalid because both got married under false pretenses as the bride was pretending to be someone else, but that wouldn't negate Arya's position as Lady of Winterfell if she intends to claim the title. I think it's intentional on GRRM's part to make the question of Stark succession jumbled enough that all five of them can technically stake their claim whether through birth order, sex, legitimized degrees, might makes right and the power behind them, or simply having the claim bestowed on them before the others make themselves known.
Buckle up, it’s a long one.
I am going to go on a limb here and presume you didn’t read the whole post, did you? I literally said it a million and one times that Arya’s claim comes from her being a Stark. That is the entire point of my post.
The north believing that Jeyne is Arya (“Lady Aryq”) doesn’t make Arya Jeyne or the Lady of Winterfell by proxy. Y’all are literally running around in circles here, nothing makes sense. At one point you are claiming that Ramsay is claiming his authority through Arya because she already is the lady of Winterfell and on the other hand you’re saying that bringing Arya to the north and marrying her to Ramsay made her the Lady of Winterfell in the eyes of the Northern Lords and the readers. Make it make sense. Anyway, Lady is a title granted to all noblewomen of higher houses, a lot like how Miss/Mister worked in the 1800s to now (sort of). Arya would be Lady Arya of House Stark regardless of whether she is the heir to House Stark or not. The Lady Stark or the Lady of Winterfell will only be Catelyn Stark as it is a social position granted to the wife of the head of the House. If she had a sister-in-law, say Benjen didn’t go to the nights watch and got married, that woman would also be Lady Stark (or Lady her-maiden-name) but she would not be the Lady of Winterfell, are you getting me? The people here could be referring to Arya as ‘Lady’ because she’s a highborn girl and comes from the most noble house of the north. That makes her one of the people with the highest social standing; which I feel warrants the use of the word Lady, not to be confused with the feudal position.
I know you’re trying to play the whole Arya is the last of Starks and that is why she is the Lady of Winterfell and that is from where the Boltons are legitimising their claim to the north. But Arya is not the last of the Starks. She still has an older sister (that they know is alive when they decided on the marriage) and two brothers whose claim is superior to hers no matter how you argue. On top of that, the girl that is actually married to Ramsay is not even Arya. Arya is in Braavos training with the faceless men. Regardless, never once throughout the books, is she called the head of house stark or lady stark or the lady of Winterfell and have that be given as a reason as to why the North should fight for her. She is ‘Ned’s precious little girl’ and that is enough. Literally pulled Lady of Winterfell out of your ass.
“They’re not trying to claim the north was given to them by the crown or no longer belonging to the starks” is an insane statement to make when the royal decree is literally the only leg they have to stand on, and that they are now the unequivocal lords of Winterfell is literally exactly what they’re claiming. Bruh. Bobby B winning the crown by conquest is still valid but the Baratheons being distant cousins of the Targaryens helped. The Boltons need Stark blood to strengthen their claim not create a claim from a non-existent one, which is why they married “Arya” and which is also exactly why just any girl, and not Arya herself, worked. It is all for show.
Okay, scratch all of that. Let me make it simple. The Bolton’s claim to the north literally comes from being granted the north by royal decree. Marrying “Arya Stark” just gives the loyal northerners less reason to fight against Bolton rulership. So the Bolton derive their authority by literally being given the North by the crown after killing Robb Stark and hope to retain that claim in front of the northern lords by seemingly marrying “Arya Stark”. The former is legally and politically important. The latter is socially important. If the North wasn’t actually granted to the Boltons, Ramsay marrying Arya wouldn’t have done jack to their claim, sorry. Which leads me to the latter, having a political marriage between the Boltons and the Starks reduces the chances of a revolt by the “more loyal” northern lords. “Even Lady Dustin says him keeping his title depends on how he treats his wife”. Yes, so as to not anger the northern lords. If his claim was from the ladyship of his wife, then it wouldn’t have depended on how he treated her. Eg. Lady Hornwood. How are you proving my own point here.
Ramsay doesn’t derive his authority from his wife who is the Lady of Winterfell. He doesn’t even derive it from his wife. He married a “Stark” because it merely quells the rumbling of a revolt and makes the Boltons more palpatable as Wardens of the North. Moreover, if they were deriving the claim from Arya then Ramsay would be the Lord of Winterfell but he’s not, Roose is. If the Boltons really wanted to lay a claim to the north by marrying Arya, then they would have torn apart heaven and earth to find the real one and married the her, and that too to Roose, not Ramsay. But they can’t, because she inherently doesn’t hold that power. This also doesn’t mean that she is less of a Stark so don’t think I am trying to say that.
Do you think if hypothetically Lord Manderly married his son to Arya, would that automatically make him the liege lord of the north? Does marrying Lysa to Jon Arryn make Jon Arryn’s father the ruling lord of the Riverlands? Does it even make Jon the ruling lord of the riverlands? Even if Hoster and Edmure were dead, neither Jon Arryn nor his father would have no claim to the Riverlands. Where is this logic even coming from? It’s clearly not in universe. Your argument about Lady Hornwood holds no water because there was no royal decree that proclaimed him as the Lord of Hornwood. If there was, he wouldn’t need to marry Lady Hornwood herself, even any of her daughters to appease her subjects because her subjects are not noble houses with armies of their own. Hornwood is not the entirety of the North. The North is half the continent and therefore holds much more political sway. Hornwood is a small House. How are you even drawing parallels here? The Boltons won’t just hand wave away the royal fucking decree for no good reason especially when they stabbed and betrayed their own King for it. What made you even think of this???
Lastly, this is not GRRM trying to muddle the Stark succession. This is GRRM trying to show the reader that sometimes people with less social standing and power are abused simply because those higher than them can get away with it. He means to say that this is something that will not happen to someone from a bigger House. This was to highlight the inherently lopsided, power-imbalanced, oppressive system that is cruel to those it deems weak.
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yournewfriendshouse · 3 months
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honestly as someone who is really isolated post-covid, I have to reiterate just how much impact kind retail workers have on someone’s life.
like it just fucking…I haven’t been out of the house in weeks, you know??? and today I was met with kindness several times, and it just makes such a difference in a scary world when the contact you have with humainty is workers who get treated so shittily and still have patience for disabled people who take a long time to find their scripts or their card like…it just really has an impact.
please know that 💛💛
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hilsoncrater · 1 year
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sorry to all the haters out there. yeah. sorry you had to see two women kiss and have gay sex onscreen. sorry for celebrating the explicitly confirmed bisexuality that is more than just bi jokes in a show that prior to this season had only jokes with no real backing for representation. "she's always been bi" yeah babes but unfortunately history has shown us that bi jokes get played for laughs more than they do for sincerity and so pardon me for celebrating when a show backs up a bi character's bi jokes with onscreen intimacy rather than falling into the Ambiguously Queer trope like it had been doing the past few seasons
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takethesefictions · 1 year
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you know what- I would watch and love the fuck out of an Ocean’s 14 movie in this economy and maybe ESPECIALLY because of this economy. #knowkingbetterbutonvibesonlymode
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fabulouslygaybean · 2 months
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i am once again overwhelmed by love for humans as a whole
#just. fuck#oh my god. oh my god. i love humans. i love humans and i love life and i love that i get to be a part of it#it sucks sometimes and there are awful terrible things that happen and im not going to deny any of that#but just. im thinking about all the strangers who've ever been kind to me and im overwhelmed with love#the girl ive never seen before who grabbed me to dance during my last homecoming with the biggest smile on her face#the kid who taught me where to dig for clay in a lake when i was 8 who told me he loved me when i said i had to leave#the stranger at the last show i went to who held onto my shoulder as we jumped and yelled and laughed together#the little girl who came into my workplace today that told me with the most starstruck face that she liked my hair#the older lady who helped me pick up all my things after i dropped them in a park after an incredibly hard day#the trio of teenage boys who played with me on the playground for hours one evening when i was 6 because they saw i was lonely#the random man who bought me the snack i tried to put it back when i realized i didn't have enough money for it#the teen girls who chased off some guy who tried to kick my head in and then ran back to hold my hands and make sure i was okay#fuck. i love people. i love human beings so much.#i love being alive and im so so glad i made it past middle school even though i thought i wouldn't#i get to look at sunsets and sunrises and i get to pet dogs and i get to wade around in lakes and pools and ponds#i get to hug and hold people and i get to laugh so hard my stomach hurts and i get to yell and scream in happiness#i get to eat good food and listen to good music and i get to run and jump and dance#i get to see beautiful things and i get to watch strangers live their lives around me and i get to be a part of it all#it's amazing!!! fuck!!!! i get to be a part of it all!!!!!#i love being alive and i love that ive made it this far#i don't know what the future holds but im just so glad im even here at all#sorry about the long sappy ramble and i know this probably looks weird but i could not care less#im just overwhelmed with love for everything
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honestly the most emotions I ever felt about Jack/Keeley was the anger I felt at Jack for being the kind of woman who slut shames and judges other women
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SPOILER
KEELEY FUCKING JONES JUST DID THAT
Omg I’m shaking again it’s like when Colin was confirmed but we all knew Keeley was bi and that there was something going on there with Jack BUT IT HAPPENED
I can’t breath they kissed I can’t breath
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littlemi3345 · 9 months
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Boho-Chic Crochet Lace High Neck Ladies Bralette Women (XS-ML) By Leto's Fashion
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lilies-of-the-fields · 2 months
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,,,oh no,,,,
im way too tired for this. logging off :/
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ribbonprincess · 2 months
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
"Do a lil twirl for me,yeah...your ass looks so good baby." Rafe chuckles,fixing his pants as they tightened around his crotch,the sight of you in a tiny white mini skirt the reason.
"You like it rafey? I bought It thinking of you" "yeah,no shit- you used my credit card" he chuckles. Moving from his spot on the bed,he walks over you,laying his hands on your hips as he squishes the skin. "You should wear it today while I go golfing,you can look pretty in the cart and if you're good enough daddy will buy you a drink."
He smiles before tilting his head down to press his lips against yours as you whine almost immediately,slapping his chest "my lipgloss! you just smeared it all over,daddy." Turning around to face the mirror as you try to deescalate the situation of your almost ruined makeup,dabbing at the area around your lips with a beauty blender.
"Yeah yeah,'s just lip gloss,it's nothing serious." Gasping dramatically you turn around,hand on your chest as if you've been shot as you point a finger at his chest "'s not just lipgloss.."
Chuckling to himself Rafe presses a kiss against your shoulder "I'm sorry cupcake, daddy's being mean yeah?" Nodding as you run your manicured fingers over his jawline,pressing your chest against his,making your tits more visible as you smile softly- a tragic contrast to your action.
꒦꒷︶°꒷︶°︶₊˚ʚɞ˚₊︶°︶꒦˚︶꒷꒦
As you sit prettily in the golf cart,sipping at your drink while watching rafe play with his friends,you can't help but feel lonely,so you decide to approach as he stands a few feet behind the others. "rayray?"
Turning around almost immediately Rafe's expression softens a bit before turning hard. "What are you doing here,told you to sit in the cart" "Yeah... I know,but I missed you" Emphasizing your words you run a hand over his chest,playing with the button of his slacks.
"Missed me huh?" Looking over his shoulder he shouts a quick "Little lady is feeling sick!" Before dragging you over the Golf cart and driving over a more secluded area of the field,covered by trees and bushes.
"Since you've been missing me sooo much,might as well show it. C'mon get on your knees" Taking one last look around you move to your knees on the moist grass,quickly unbuckling his belt as you pull down his pants and boxer just as much needed. Wrapping a hand around the base of his shaft you kiss the vein that runs on the underside of it, resulting in a harsh tug of your hair. "Don't fucking tease me."
Wrapping your lips around his tip before slowly moving down,twisting your hand around what you couldn't fit "Deeper...I've trained you better than this,kid" Rafe mumble from above you,shoving your head down until you gag harshly,tears already pooling at your lash line. "Yeah,there you go...nice and warm for me." Looking up through your clamped wispy lashes you start to move your head again,twirling your tongue around his length like a popsicle as Rafe groans from above you "Got myself the best girl,right? Sucking my dick like this where everyone can pass by"
Nodding as best as you can,you pull off him with a loud "pop". "Wanna make you feel good,daddy." Smiling to himself, Rafe wipes at your saliva coated lower lip before bringing your mouth back on him with a satisfied moan,brushing some strand of hair that have fallen over your face away. "Fuck,keep doing that and I'm gonna cum. You want daddy to cum in your mouth? Yeah,you do."
Meeting you midway as he thrust into your mouth,giving you no time to react or even understand. "shit- 'm cumming" As his rhythm gets sloppier,you suck around his tip holding onto his thigh as you feel a milky substance flood your mouth. Breathing loudly he pulls you away from him as he smirks "Show me your tongue,angel" showcasing your tongue with a proud smile you look up at him in search of praise. "good girl,what do we say now?" "thank you daddy!"
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freelancearsonist · 20 days
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make a move on me
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➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k
➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.
➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]
➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.
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Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.
If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.
The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.
But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.
Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.
Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.
The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.
Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”
There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.
Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”
Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.
He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.
But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.
There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.
The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.
Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.
It doesn’t work.
The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.
You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?
It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.
And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.
All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.
It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.
But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.
Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?
And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.
Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.
He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.
“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”
He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–
“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”
You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.
“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”
You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–
He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”
“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”
He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.
He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.
“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”
“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.
He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.
But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.
There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.
He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.
You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–
Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.
He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.
You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.
“Joel–”
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”
“I want it,” you affirm.
He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.” 
He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.
“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.
“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”
With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.
Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.
“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”
“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”
There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”
“Flip over f’me.”
You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.
You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.
It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”
You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this. 
“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”
“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”
“Please–”
“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”
He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”
And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.
His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.
“You ever taken someone here before?”
“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.
“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.
It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.
“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”
You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.
“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’
His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”
He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.
He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”
It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.
“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”
“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.
In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.
“What’d you call me?”
“J-Joel.”
His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”
“D… daddy.”
You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.
“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.
Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”
The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”
“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”
“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”
But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.
He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.
He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.
“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”
You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.
“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”
“Daddy–”
“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”
All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.
Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.
And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.
Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.
He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.
“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”
It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.
“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.
For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.
You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”
“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.
There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”
Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.
He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.
He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”
“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.
He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–
“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.
The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.
He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”
You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.
It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.
“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.
You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”
“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”
His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.
“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”
His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.
“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”
“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”
Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.
“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”
“Joel–”
“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”
“Yesyesyesplease–”
His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.
The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.
It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.
There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.
And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in. 
“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.
Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”
You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.
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theosbaby · 2 months
Text
sundress
theodore nott x fem!reader
masterlist
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summary; you wear a new sundress to your date with theo, knowing that he loves them on you, and he cannot resist the temptation.
warnings; google translated italian, dom!theo, sub!reader, SMUT without a plot, public sex, praising, pet names, lots of kissing and groping, choking, neck grabbing, hair pulling, fingering, heavy dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink... overall, pure filth.
author's note; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes. "helping hand" has reached over a 1.000 notes, TYSM! i'm so happy! hope you enjoy this 🤍
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you were trying to hold back your playful giggles as theo pushed you inside the three broomsticks bathroom, his large hand covering your mouth to muffle your cute little laugh so that the rest of customers didn't hear you both sneaking into the ladies restroom.
'what had brought you two there?' you might be wondering... well, that's actually a really short story.
as every saturday, theo and you were in hogsmeade, having a date. it was may, the weather was warm and the sun was shining in the sky, so you had decided to put on a new sundress that your mother had bought you for your birthday a few weeks ago —knowing that theo loved seeing you in that kind of clothing.
the dress was white, with a flared skirt and a corseted body which ended in a low and flattering neckline. it made your body look stunning and theo had almost gone crazy when he saw you earlier; the soft fabric hugging your curves, bringing out the light tan of your skin... he had been literally drooling over you the entire date, and now, he couldn't hold back anymore: he needed to fuck you.
and he couldn't wait until you both were back at hogwarts.
he kicked the bathroom door shut behind you both while peppering kisses along your slender neck, gently sucking and biting your skin to mark you all over; at the same time, his hands groped your body almost desperately.
"you look so fucking beautiful today," theo whispered in your ear.
he tugged at your earlobe between his lips before turning you around to push you against the sink and you hissed when your body hit the cold hard marble kind of roughly.
you chuckled, tilting your head to the side to kiss his cheek as you tangled your fingers in his light brown curls, his hands grasping at your slim waist.
"just today?" you whispered back teasingly, looking up at him with a smirk on your red painted lips.
he chuckled lowly, pressing himself against you as he slipped his hands underneath the hem of your dress to run his hands over the smooth skin of your legs slowly, pulling the fabric up just enough to expose a sliver of bare thigh.
"always beautiful, but today... fuck," he muttered, nuzzling his nose against yours; the smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, making you feel light-headed, "this bloody dress is driving me fucking crazy, cara mia."
"i knew you'd love it..." you couldn't help but giggle against his lips, giving gim a chaste peck before pulling back slightly. "i put in on just for you," you murmured, kissing his neck softly; your red lipstick left a faint stain on his flesh.
theodore smirked, his hands sliding up your thighs to cup your bare ass through the laced fabric of your panties.
"you're a fucking tease, do you know that?" he groaned before leaning in to claim your crimson lips in a scorching kiss.
your eyes fluttered shut, your body melting into his arms at the intimate contact, which made you gasp against his eager mouth. your lips brushed together in a mind-blowing dance while you ran your fingers through his soft hair absentmindedly.
theo broke the kiss just a moment later only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin as his fingers worked to lift your dress higher up, until it was pooling around your waist, his body still pinning you against the sink.
"i need you," he whispered in your ear, his voice thick with desire, "need to fuck you so badly, principessa."
you gasped once again when he pressed his hardening cock against your pelvis, grinding against you in slow motions. you grasped at the sink countertop, your head falling back as he placed wet kisses all the way down to your cleavage.
theo groaned at the sight of your perfect breasts almost spilling out of the neckline of your dress and his hand cupped one of them through the thin fabric, squeezing it tenderly.
"sei bellisima, amore mio," he muttered in italian, his lips pressing against yours hungrily once again. (you're beautiful, my love)
you whimpered into the kiss, feeling your wetness start to pool around in your panties as his thumb toyed with your perky nipple over your clothes until it hardened; your shuddered in his arms.
"theo, please," you stuttered into his lips, words coming out as broken sobs.
theo broke the kiss, his eyes darkening with lust as he looked down at you while his other hand slipped between your legs. his fingers traced along the damp fabric of your panties, feeling how wet you were for him.
"merlin... you're fucking soaked, principessa," he growled, his fingers teasingly brushing against your clit.
you moaned at his action, but quickly nipped at your plump bottom lip to try and hold back any sound that may escape your mouth, not wanting anyone outside the bathroom to hear you... though the thrill of getting caught was indeed turning you on.
theo withdrew his hand and kneeled in front of you, fingers gripping at the waistband of your panties to slid them down your legs while he peppered wet kisses all over your belly and hip bones, slowly moving down.
"we have to make this quick, bella," he whispered, placing one last kiss at your smooth mound as he looked up at you with those deep set eyes of his. "but i promise i'll eat your pretty little pussy later on, yeah?"
the smirk he gave you while he stood up made you weak on your knees. he pulled you into a kiss, hands groping at your thighs and ass cheeks avidly as he practically devoured your mouth —at that point, your red lipstick was smudged all over your faces. he grabbed your wrist to guide your hand towards his crotch and you palmed him delicately, feeling his hard dick twitch at your touch.
theo groaned against your lips, breath hitching in his throat. his hand released your wrist and slid between your legs once more, this time slipping two digits inside of you, gently stretching your tight hole.
"fuck... so wet for me," he whispered against your mouth, teeth tugging at your already swollen bottom lip. "you're fucking dripping onto my fingers, principessa."
his free hand wrapped around your neck, choking you lightly while he moved his digits in and out of you in scissor motions to prepare you for his cock. you gasped for air, letting out a needy cry as you worked to unfasten his belt with shaky hands.
"need your cock, theo... please," you breathed out, cheeks flushed.
theo's hand released your neck, his fingers withdrawing from your pussy to help you slide his pants and boxers down; his throbbing cock sprung free, standing tall against his flat stomach, and your mouth watered at the sight. after that, he grabbed your hips, turning your around and pushing you forward until you were bent over the countertop.
"keep your eyes on me, amore mio," he commanded, his voice rough.
he grasped your hair, tugging at it to pull your head back until your eyes met his on the mirror. his rough grip made you whine and you writhed when you felt the tip of his cock brushing along your slick folds, teasing you.
"theo, please," you whimpered desperately.
he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, slowly pushing inside while his free hand found purchase at your hip. he groaned loudly, the feeling of your tight heat welcoming him nearly overwhelming.
"so big, oh merlin," you whined at the stretch, letting out a little cry that echoed through the bathroom.
"oh fuck... I love being inside you," he murmured, his eyes piercing yours through the mirror. "che piccola figa così stretta... all fucking mine," he grunted, starting to pound into you. (such a tight little pussy)
you reached to cover your mouth with one of your hands, your palm muting the moans that inevitably left your lips when he began to fuck you against the sink roughly. your other hand gripped at his thigh, your nails digging into his flesh, and you couldn't help but close your eyes tightly, face contorted in pleasure.
he released your hair and his fingers curled around your throat instead, applying light pressure as he groaned; his digits dug into your skin, leaving bright red fingerprints on it.
"look at me while i fuck you," he ordered, forcing you to open your glazed eyes and look at him through the mirror.
his grip tightened on your throat as he slammed his hips against your ass, his cock buried balls deep inside your cunt and hitting all the right spots within you. the mirror reflected his flushed face, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and eyes locked onto yours as he took what he wanted from you, making a moaning mess out of you; thankfully, your hand covering your mouth muffled the sounds.
"damn it... so fucking tight," he moaned, picking up the pace of his thrusts, "pussy feels so good around my cock." he leaned down, his lips meeting your ear as he whispered his filth into it.
he left a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck while his cock made you see stars, his free hand finding its way between your shaky legs to rub your puffy clit, causing you to squirm.
"you love this, huh?" he taunted, smirking against your flesh, "you love it when i'm rough with you, don't you, principessa?"
his hand slid up from your neck to grab your hand and pull it away from your mouth, pinning it behind your back, so that you could answer him. though you struggled to do it; the way he was rocking his hips caused his cock to rub against your g-spot with every single thrust, making you feel like your insides were being torn apart in the best way possible.
"hmm, yeah," you cried out in response, "love it when you fuck me hard."
his lips captured yours again and your walls clenched around him as you moaned into his lips, the kiss muting the sounds of your pleasure. you felt the coil in your belly tightening and your clit pulsed underneath his fingertips, signaling your impending orgasm. he broke the kiss, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked down at you.
"you close, bella? he panted, slapping your ass hard enough to sting.
you nodded in response, blubbering incoherent words, unable to form any sentence as he ruined your cunt.
"that's it, baby... cum for me," he grunted, pushing deeper and harder, the sink creaking due to his harsh thrusts. "i want to see your pretty eyes roll back into your head when you cum on my cock."
his filthy words triggered your orgasm.
he watched with satisfaction as your eyes indeed rolled back, your back arching and nails digging into your skin as you covered your mouth once again, trying to silence the moans and cries that slipped from your lips.
"such a mess... so fucking beautiful," he praised.
he bit down softly on his lip before letting out a rough, guttural groan, the feeling of your cunt engulfing his cock too much for him too handle.
"i'm gonna cum inside you," he warned, "gonna breed this tight little pussy, amore."
you let out a whiny moan, your breathing coming out in sharp pants as your walls clamped around his cock in response to his dirty words.
"you want that, huh?" he mocked you, his hand grasping and pulling at your hair to push you back onto his chest. "want me to make you pregnant with my fucking child?"
"yeah," you whimpered pathetically, "want to carry your child, theodore nott."
"fuck," he cursed, letting out a long, low moan as he unloaded his cum inside you, the warm sticky liquid filling your pussy. "buona ragazza," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from collapsing. (good girl)
your legs were completely shaky, making it hard for you to stand up, so you supported yourself on the countertop as you felt him pulling out slowly, his cum dripping out of your abused cunt.
he placed sweet kisses over your back and shoulders as you recovered from your orgasm, whispering soothing things to you while he grabbed his wand to mutter a cleansing spell and get you both all cleaned up.
after composing yourselves, the both of you walked out of the bathroom quietly to not grab any undesired attention, unluckily, pansy parkinson was waiting out of the bathroom, arms crossed and smug grin tugging at her lips; you blushed.
"finally," she claimed, laughing, "you two had fun in there?"
"shut up, parkinson!" theo shouted, grabbing your hand and hurriedly guiding you outside of the three broomsticks.
'we sure as hell did, pansy', you thought as you both walked away.
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