#(That little moment in the middle panel

[caffeinefire]

You… you did???? You had reports on the fact that the incredibly dangerous and skilled man you are entering into a death match with had a hidden gun and you FORGOT?

This seems like crucial information friend

#I have been waiting for this panel #I remember laughing so hard on my first read #i feel a little bad bc it’s in the middle of a very serious fight and it’s not even meant to be a funny moment #but REALLY? #something about it just tickles me #trigun #trigun maximum #trimax volume 2 #trigunbookclub

[vargaslovinghours]

Vargas IX, now with touch screen capabilities! (1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8)

That’s what it says on the tin....right?

And that’s what we like about him

He wins Rudest, 20th year in a row!

No Russian endearments, this is bullying >:0

Can you tell I was out and about lol, all I had were kids menu crayons and he still turned out cute <3

Their bunnies! It really is lucky that their colours are easy to find in crayons haha

Some vent :( They are always good for it ♥

Don’t want closeness, the hurt is too overwhelming to even touch

Always bothering him when he’s trying to sleep

That could be taken a lot of different ways honestly. Edgar just so done haha

Ahh, that way ♪ I like how the blanket pulled over his head turned out haha, that won’t muffle him at all!

Return of the Style Challenge! An Edgar off the heels of my KoiBo studies, extra hair floof ♫

A quick and silly Fairy!Edgar as a spacefiller; had a glimpse of an AU idea after rewatching Ferngully lol, Zak looks a bit like Jake I think

I actually doodled this one last year but didn’t scan it in until recently :0 - I’d planned to turn it into a minicomic but the page got away from me and turned into something else unrelated haha

Uh oh, Nny brainrot, here it comes

As if he would be worried~

God can’t save me now ♪ Your Boyfriend gives me so many Nny ideas, how dare <3 This song was already Edgar’s (so much) but now it’s his too! How dare!!

More ideas from that^ video, what’s a bit of casual dismemberment intention among friends

That felt-tip makes him twitchy

Uh oh

His nails are so sharp he barely needs to grip to pierce flesh

That was very on-purpose though. His harsh word bubbles really are fun to draw, like they're bolted and nailed together ♪

Poor Edgar :( Not that this would've ended well for him either way, but it's not like he was trying to make it worse! Though, this is probably better, maybe

Ew, gross >:|

Probably nothing that would de-escalate, so. No.

Kinda free-bleeding over here, ow, please stop :(

Oddly gentle touch, considering the literal blood on his hands

Just gonna lightly dig around in your arm, don't worry about it. He's really barely touching him, blood giving his fingertips a smooth glide

He tapped back into his mind and got a bit stuck there, words kinda sorta. Surprisingly it’s not that comforting!

Scriabin is not having a fun day :( Edgar, no, stop excusing him!

"Why did I do that??" Maybe something to do with a waste-lock? :3c

Haha, as soon as they're directly out of danger, Scriabin's right back to sassing him, not so scared or small now huh

"Since you have a habit of collecting scars from him. Stop that, by the way."

Drawing his arm bandaged was just too fun! Bleeding through it, poor lad <3

More missing words, he meant to ask "What are you reading?" but Edgar told him anyway haha. Founder of the modern-day emoticon!

Sad Edgar for some comfort doodles <3 Seems backwards sometimes lol, but if it works!

"Pay attention to me instead of whatever's making you upset." Poor thing, even Scriabin just coming up to him makes him jump

Kisses <3 I really like the one of Edgar trying to dodge him hehe, no kiss! Yes kiss

Always a surprise, somehow

Something nice?? Who is this??? It was all a trick and ploy, don't flatter yourself >:0

Haha, the original Extremely scuffed doodle for this year's personal Vargasversary - as long as Edgar's squished, it all works out!

Wanted to draw Edgar as a pierrot clown out of the blue, he looks so cute! The big fluffy buttons and the floofy collar and eye makeup :D Cute!!

He's no simple clown! He's an complete comedy routine, straightman and fool in one!

But I mean, what does that say towards Scriabin's taste lol, he's already confirmed morosexual so ♪

Back to the Nnyspam, don't mind me

A reasonable request, he's skin and bones anyhow

A reasonable reply! Not an opposition exactly, just would prefer to know what to expect

As much as I can get to Poor Nny haha, he’s just so confused. "How did I get here." Meanwhile, Edgar tries really hard to not get his hopes up lol

Chatting about the weird exchange with Scriabin later - is this something they experienced together and are just talking about now, or did he go to Nny's alone?? Doesn't matter, Scriabin's gonna monologue about it

Haha, Edgar having some kind of Awakening thanks to Nny, again

He's always talking

More blobs! Scriablobin being annoying, of course <3

Went through a Tamagotchi-interest and decided to try and make some 32x32 resolution lads <3 Would take care of them, even if we all know Scriabin would beep even when he doesn’t need anything, he’d definitely run on the Devilgotchi OS lol

Back to the crying-kissing idea, set it down and picked it back up. Both just exchanging mini-barbs, sweet-nothings laced in thorns <3

Hehe they turned out so cute here ♥ Tastes like [soggy bread] and [affection]

An odd one of Edgar telling Scriabin off and manhandling him. Though maybe the latter isn’t as odd haha

I just wanted to doodle Edgar swearing at him haha. What would get him so riled to do so!

Family time, snuggles on the couch <3 Todd's completely enraptured by the glow of the television screen, ignoring cuddle time

*You hear the sound of canoodling in the background

Got a little too loud and got shut down haha

What happened?? Could've sworn they were just all over each other! That was the problem!

Welp, there's February through May again :) It's an ever-slowing momentum, but dang if it wasn't a powerful initial force lol

#💟 #Doodles #Art #Edgar #Scriabin #Nny #Todd #Shmee #Sketchdump #Blood #It's a very Edgar-heavy sketchdump this time! I mean. Other than how much Nny appears there's just so much Nny #So look out for that - especially on the blood front lol #Other warnings uhhh mostly just Nny weirdness - no it's not a vore thing don't look at me like that #Little bit of vent - And the usual Edgar/Scriabin silliness <3 #There's also like a Bunch more minicomics this time and I actually edited them seperately! Woah! #The big Nny one in the middle is a complete thought - though I would love to return to Scriabin sassing Edgar when he feels safe haha #The kiss one still has some missing panels - it was split into two sections for what I think are interesting reasons #The initial inspiration came from when I woke up horribly anxious for some reason and y'know - they're comfort characters so #But I couldn't touch a thought with them other than Scriabin being gentle and comforting Edgar it was extremely strange #Afterwards I was fine! But for a moment that's all I could handle so I gave it to Edgar lol #Lots of other silliness ♪ I actually really love clown motifs but only if they're Pierrot lol Pierrot is perfect! #And then the Gotchi stuff hhhhh <3 <3 Yes I know 32x32 isn't the correct resolution shhh look don't worry about it #I have since learned as I've delved deeper into the fixation lol - and I got myself an actual Devilgotch <3 <3 <3 I'm so excited about it < #Absolutely going to be thinking of Scriabin when it prank-beeps at me lol #Oh yeah and for Edgar swearing at Scriabin? I made an initial panel but it was a little too vague :P #It's You Can't Live Like This themed if that's any indication except Scriabin's being a self-destructive brat #So y'know - the usual lol #Finishing off with more silliness - it's been a very gentle last several months (other than the Nnyspam shh) lots of silly soft ideas :) #Cute things abound ♪

[daily-terus]

#ALSO this is actually one of the cutest collections of panels in the whole manga #Kou is so little #and so excited!! #and even with all the horrific shit on Teru's end leading to this moment #this has to have been one of the bright spots #like---the only real emotion we get to see on Teru's face in this flashback is that little smile :) #(That little moment in the middle panel #with kou running around all excited #and teru just. standing there. He looks like he's taking a moment to 'switch back' #he needs to be the older brother now #not the exorcist.) #jshk #minamoto teru #teru minamoto #tbhk #...chapter 9...

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, fem! reader, smut, blowjob, fingering, proofread but I’m dyslexic so may be mistakes

Omg omg omg imagine being König’s little passengers princess🩷🩷

König is undeniably a big man, so he obviously needs a big car. I think he owns a SUV - pretty and, most importantly, spacious car. It allows him to slouch comfortably in driver’s seat and not sit all crouched down like in most cars, his knees don’t bump in the panel beneath the steering wheel but placed comfortably as they should.

Needless to say that his car is filled with your stuff: numerous lipglosses in the glove compartment, your scarves and shawls laying on the panel behind backseats, small pillow along with fluffy blanket are always in the backseat in case you feel tired and want to lay down. König even found some of your jewelry in the cup holder once!

And he’s such a gentleman! You’re simply not allowed to open the door by yourself! Why would you do that, if you have him?! König will always hold the door open for you, helping you get in and out of the seat, making sure that your dress or coat won’t get stuck clasped by the car door. He’s such a sweetheart, I can’t🥺

You often go for rides together. König is a neat and careful driver - he got his license when he was 18 and since then only got one fine for parking in wrong place. You go to different places - locations with beautiful landscapes not far from your place, going to visit his relatives in another city or just night rides around the Vienna. A lot of dear moments between you two happened in his car - your first kiss, numerous deep talks and countless make out sessions in the backseat which ended up with König absolutely fucking your brains out.

But sometimes long car rides can be hard for you. A few hours on the way, you start feeling uncomfortable. Your booty starts feeling sore from long sitting, lower back aching from awkward angle, feet swelling from lack of muscle movements. And you start whining. About how you’re tired, how sore your whole body is, that you need to use a restroom or that you’re hungry. König coos at your pouting face, glancing at you apologetically, right hand coming to your thigh to rub soothing circles on your soft skin to make you feel slightest bit better, promising to pull off at the next gas station.

König would do anything to soothe his whiny little princess. And if it means getting under her skirt in a middle of the ride and stuffing her pretty pussy full with his fingers - he’ll gladly do it. He’s never said that, but König loves loves loves fingering you while driving. Yes, it distracts him from the road, but the cute little sounds you make while your legs close around his wrist in overstimulation as he mercilessly keeps pumping two fingers in and out of that drooling cunny, thumb pressing tight circles against that needy clit.

During especially long rides, when you’re bored out of your mind and music on the radio makes you feel sick, you find a better way of busying yourself.

One of your nimble hands comes to rest on König’s meaty thing, rubbing strong muscle affectionately. He doesn’t pay much attention to that since you do it all the time, only smiling softly to himself at your touch. Slowly you make your way higher and higher, getting dangerously close to man’s crotch. “Y/n, I’m driving” König would always say in a strict voice, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead. “Yeah, but it’s a highway, you just need to go straight” you discard his complains lightheartedly, already undoing the button and zipper of his jeans.

Soon your mouth is filled up with his throbbing cock, drool running down thick shaft to his balls and you suck and lick on sensitive length, paying extra attention to his leaking tip. König groans and moans above you, thrusting his hips up occasionally, making you choke and gag on his huge dick, tears running down your flushed cheeks. He rests one hand on the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down at the pace that he likes and holding you in place when he shoots a thick load of his cum down your throat so you swallow every single drop of it. And make sure to clean him up with that filthy little mouth after that, he’s driving, after all!

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers feedback, we live for that<3

#könig #könig mw2 #könig cod #cod könig #könig fanfiction #könig modern warfare #könig call of duty #könig x you #könig smut #könig x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwf2 #cod smut #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty #call of duty x you #call of duty writing

[tryslora]

On Writing Combat and Sex Scenes

Today I want to talk about writing sex and combat (and no, I do not mean combative sex). This post is inspired by a few recent events:

Once, a long time ago, I read a blog post that said “if you can write a combat scene, you can write a sex scene” and that was mind-blowing for me because while I was well-versed in writing erotica, I couldn’t write combat to save my life.

More recently, at Boskone, I participated on a panel about writing combat, and the research involved there-in.

Even more recently, I had someone look at me say, “You’re not a gay guy. How do you write gay sex scenes?”

So. Let’s begin.

I get it—sex and combat aren’t interchangeable. But at their core, they have some strong similarities which can be leveraged while writing. Both are intense, high drama, and can involve a lot of anxiety and quick thought. Both tend to narrow focus down to the moment and the current feeling and action. Both are heightened emotion and physical reaction. Both can involve actions that lie outside the author’s personal experience.

I started writing erotica when I was a freshman in college. I posted it online (does anyone remember rec.arts.erotica?) and was surprised (and pleased) by the compliments I received. Turned out my readers were not expecting the idea of emotion being entangled in their erotica. They were invested emotionally in how the stories went, and how my characters felt. Since I was writing from the point of view that made sense to me at the time, they were het stories from a female perspective, and they were very focused on the emotional connections and how the physical events heightened those emotions.

Male readers were surprised by the intensity of the feelings that these stories gave them (as opposed to pure arousal). It got me thinking about how I wrote, and why I wrote, and I tried to talk about it some at the time. I was eighteen. I was still a new writer. The internet itself was new. I wasn’t entirely certain how to frame it, but I remember getting one comment where a guy was surprised at how struck he’d been by the moment in the scene where everything shuddered to a halt due to an event in the story that interrupted the action, and I replied that that was because I wasn’t writing about the sex. I was writing about the character’s reaction to the sex.

Which has always been how I write. At the time, that was my only tool: put myself in the character’s mind, and write what they feel. If that’s affection and attraction and physical reaction, write that. Tangle it up, and hope the reader feels that entanglement.

Now, fast forward several years, and take a little side trip onto a tangent wherein I learned something very important about writing craft.

I was reading Syne Mitchell’s End in Fire, I think it was, and I kept having panic attacks. Now, I did most of my reading late, often when I woke in the middle of the night due to stress, or just because my brain refused to rest. I was in a rough place in life in general, with a lot of external work stuff going on and very small children. I wasn’t sleeping well. And it took me some time to figure out why I was struggling to read a book which I actually loved (and when I read it later in life, I enjoyed it greatly).

It was the sentence structure.

In order to induce the emotion of the scene, the sentences were short. Sharp. Quick. There was no time for the reader to breathe, much like there was no time for the heroine to do anything but act. The reader was caught up in the rising tension, to the point where my anxious, sleep-deprived brain, caught a panic attack from it.

The technique was brilliant.

Now back to our original timeline, wherein I read a post about how if you can write combat, you can write sex scenes. This post assumed that more people felt comfortable writing violence than sex. I was the reverse. I’d been writing about sex for over a decade when I saw this post, and it made a light bulb go off in my brain.

If writing sex was like writing combat… was the reverse also true? Could I improve my skills at writing battles by analyzing what worked when I wrote erotica?

So I tried doing just that. Back then, I found combat overwhelming. There was so much going on, and I was trying so hard to write good description that I lost all of the intensity. I was focusing on everything that was going on at the same time.

Thinking about how sex scenes were all intense emotion and narrowed focus, I applied that to my combat scenes. I wrote only what the point of view character experienced, and tied everything to their actions and reactions. I thought about how they breathed, how they moved, how they thought. I used those short, sharp sentences as they processed the scene. 

That doesn’t mean I forgot about everything else going on in the scene. That’s impossible. After all, in any story the things the character doesn’t pay attention to might be as important as the things they do focus on. Stuff still happens, and there is still fallout. I needed to know what else was happening so that if the character moved from one place to another, or did something that put them in the path of a different part of the action, I could have them start processing it.

But it also meant that on the page, out of sight was out of mind. Everything narrowed down to the now. The immediacy. Suddenly my combat scenes snapped into focus.

During the panel at Boskone, all of the panelists had experience with different fighting styles (fencing, street combat, and of course, me with taekwondo). I spoke about how for me, that narrow focus is very real when I spar. I know there are some people who naturally see a move or two ahead while fighting; I don’t. I am stuck in act and react mode. Can I kick them now? Can I attempt a head shot? Oh, no, circle back and away or they’re going to hit me… that’s how my brain works during a sparring match.

It’s not like a total blackout—there should be a vague awareness of things around the character. Sounds in particular, or sometimes flashes of movement. Something distracting can catch the attention of the fighter, but the personal fight will always pull the character back.

Combat feels easy when I’m writing like that.

Of course, there’s still the question of writing about something if I’ve never experienced it. As someone did point out to me: I am not a gay man, so how does that affect writing sex scenes? I’ve also never fought with a sword. Brawled. Fought from horseback. I have, however, held a blade, shot a gun, shot an arrow, rode a horse. I have a vague idea of how these things work, much like I have a working knowledge of sex in general.

So yes, research gets involved. Sometimes research is observational, sometimes it’s reading (there’s so much good stuff out there). I highly recommend video for combat scenes—find things that have the feel that you’re going for, then put yourself in the place of the character you want to write about. Practice. Work through the ideas of how things fit together, and what your character will (and will not!) know during the fight.

If you need to, stand up and block the scene by thinking about how you would experience it. What can you see, and what is out of sight? If someone is coming at you with a blade, what are your options? How do height differences affect you? Yes, I have asked friends and husband to help me block scenes. 

“Stand right there and show me what it looks like if you punch me. Okay, so if I do this then…” Yeah. It’s a thing. But it works.

When doing your research, remember that movie fighting (and hell, movie sex scenes) isn’t realistic. It’s meant to look good. For combat, if you can find re-enactments, or sparring videos, I highly recommend taking a look at those. 

Anyway, the point is: I don’t have to have shot someone, and I don’t have to have had gay sex in order to write about them. What I do need to know is how it feels emotionally to do those things, and I can extrapolate that from what I do know. I need to know enough about the details so I can get it right, and that’s where research will help me. Also, use language to create emotion. Because emotions are where we grab the reader, and how we pull them into the scene.

Combat and sex aren’t so different when it comes to writing, and the personal experience. Now, go forth and write!

#writing #writing resources #writing sex #writing combat

[princessbrunette]

after a long and traumatic week, seeing and experiencing dreadful things — puppy!reader gets into the habit of needing john b to rock her to sleep. every night.

if he doesn’t, there’s tears — and bless your heart he understands. before these few weeks, he’d managed to protect you from it all. being shot at, stumbling on skeletons and dead bodies all for the sake of finding the next clue for the treasure that seemed so far away. at the time, and for your safety he had to bring you along — but as he watches your lip curl over, clinging to his chest back at the chateau — he regrets not finding a way around it.

“well sleep is important, bubba. you need rest.” he stresses, trying to ease you into relaxing as you argue against him. “c’mon. i know you’re tired. i can tell.”

“but i know i’m going to have a nightmare again! ugh.” in a moment of stress, you softly bury yourself into his arm, sinking teeth gently into his tanned bicep.

“noooo you won’t.” he croons in that comforting deep voice of his, slotting his hand between your face and his arm so that he can stroke your cheek with his thumb until you ease up on your bite. you huff, flopping back into his arms dramatically like you’d died mid conversation and he smiles, softly manhandling you until you’re lying directly on his chest. “i’ll tell you why you’re not gonna have any nightmares, pup. it’s because i’m gonna be riiight here. all night. you’re gonna get all hot and bothered and wish that you had your own bed, seriously.” he keeps his tone lighthearted as you get comfortable, but his face falls when he hears you sniffle. “hey, i know.” he acknowledges solemnly, kissing the top of your head.

“jus’ nervous.” you slur, muffled into the fabric of his shirt and he nods in understanding. without thinking much of it, john b starts to sway your body left to right, gently rocking you to attempt to halt your tears. after a moment, you seem to quieten down. “keep doing that.” you rasp after a few minutes, barely awake.

“mhm.” he hums, trying not to disturb you as much as possible with his response, continuing to rock you in his arms. for the first time in a while, you sleep soundly — with no bad dreams.

because of the success in john b’s new technique — you started to require it every night. as soon as you feel the tiredness creep up on you, you’re crawling into his lap, making a rocking motion with your body to communicate what you want. doing this every night might become tiresome to some, but your boyfriend was filled with guilt — accidentally putting you in such dangerous scenarios lately that your body was now riddled with anxiety, needing the gentle motion in order to have a stress free sleep. whatever he could do to help you, to rid himself of the guilt — he would comply.

occasionally, you had required this treatment during a nap in the middle of the day too — straddling him on the couch with the shy request.

“get on in here.” he opens his arms to wrap around you, letting you burrow down into him. as soon as he begins to rock you side to side, your brain starts to power down, even able to partially ignore jj when he loudly strolls in, aware of your habits.

“damn, it’s rockin’ time already? a little early.” the blonde converses casually making the brunette frown and wave one arm at him.

“shh, but yes. yes it is.”

unable to control his behaviour, maybank begins to dance, moonwalking across the wooden panels of the chateau floor. “i wanna rock with you, alllll night.” he sings, making you groggily lift your head to blink an eye at him.

“are you done?” john b deadpans.

“oh hey there sleepy-pooch. my bad, go ‘head and take that nap.” jj busies himself with a beer bottle, grabbing it to settle down with on the couch, eyes latching onto the tv.

you’re fast asleep in a matter of minutes, the gentle humming of the tv mixing with the sounds of your soft snores. “damn, she’s out like that already? guess they found the cure to insomnia. hey, can i try next?” jj teases, lifting the bottle to his lips making the brunette shake his head, not even bothering to glance away from the tv.

“would you shut-up? maybe?” he mumbles in careless retaliation, just happy his sweet pup was getting the rest she deserves.

#john b prompt #puppy!reader

[hbdttg]

“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

#stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #modern office au #corporate steddie au #eddie's in IT #HHH is a commercial real estate firm #but steve's not a hotshot broker he's literally just a guy who makes copies all day or some shit #i personally just want to see all of eddie's baseless assumptions shattered as he gets to know steve #fic writing #hbd #actually i've never read a corporate steddie fic before so if anyone has any recs i'd love to hear them

[externalmemorycomic]

Image description: A black and white illustration, designed to look like a book cover. On a decorative ribbon, the title at the top reads “External Memory”. A scroll work border of leaves and flowers divides the illustration into three rounded panels. The largest panel is in the center and shows a caravan surrounded by greenery, puddles and potted plants. The two smaller panels beneath it show a cartoon cat and mouse respectively, facing each other. At the bottom is another decorative ribbon with the text “a diary comic by My Murphy”. After the cover follows an 8 page comic. The style is cartoonish and the colours are soft pastels. Page one: An orange cat waves and says “Hello! I’m My.” The cat holds up a white mouse and says “This is Mouse, my girlfriend.” Caption: My name is actually My, but Mouse is a nickname for comic and privacy purposes. Caption: When I started this project, me and Mouse lived on a little island off the Swedish coast. The panel shows a stylised, tiny island with a lighthouse, spruce and birch trees, leaning houses and a little dock with a row boat tied to it. The cat and mouse are standing on the cliffs and a swan floats on the water in the foreground. Page two: Caption: Now we’ve moved to Ireland where we live in a caravan in the middle of nowhere. A small caravan, surrounded by greenery, overgrown trees, rocks, puddles and potted plants. The caravan has two windows and the cat and the mouse are looking out of one window each. Caption: We lived on the island to be close to my family. A ribbon with writing on it separates and labels four characters: “mom”, an ermine, “dad”, a wolverine, “brother”, a marmot and “step mom”, a squirrel. The ribbon has been torn in between “mom” and “dad”. Caption: and we moved to Ireland to be close to Mouse’s family. Three characters are shown, each with their own ribbon label. “mother-in-law”, a deer, “sister-in-law”, a jack russell terrier and “brother-in-law”, a hedgehog. Page three: Caption: Me and the mouse are currently in our thirties. The cat lounges on an antique fainting couch and the mouse sleeps on a cushion on the floor. On the floor is an open bag of “let’s” crisps and a laptop. Caption: We’re both pretty decrepit in various ways, so for this comic I draw couches and beds as often as I draw people. Caption: Disability isn’t especially interesting to me, but if a fish made an autobiographical comic… A fish under water paints a four panel comic with a brush held in its mouth. The panels the fish has painted show bubbles, waves and splashing water. Caption: …it’d probably be partly about water, whether the fish cared about water or not. Page four: Caption: My memory has always been pretty crappy. If a friend asks me: “do you remember when...” The question is shown asked by a red robin Caption: I usually have to answer: “no, I don’t.” The panel shows the cat giving this answer while looking away and blushing. Caption: There are many things in my life I’d like to remember. Mom the ermine watches as the cat opens a Christmas gift in front of a Christmas tree. The cat is much smaller than usual, its tail is bushy with excitement and it holds up a big book, “Mort”, with a skull on the cover. Caption: This comic is my EXTERNAL MEMORY so I can capture some of those moments… The cat admires a butterfly hovering above its outstretched paw Caption: …great or small. Page five: Caption: I try to make one strip per day, give or take. Pages with dates written on them blow off of a daily wall calendar by a strong breeze. As they turn over, comic pages are revealed to be drawn on the back. One comic shows the mouse with long fangs, biting the face of the cat and then hissing behind a bat wing. One comic is a pastiche of Tim Buckley’s “Loss” comic and one features a portrait of Frasier Crane and the Seattle skyline. Caption: and on the days when nothing interesting happens A close up shows the cat’s paw drawing a comic panel. In this panel a smaller, rounder version of the cat runs happily in the sunshine carrying a backpack. Caption: I reach back and draw something from my past. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A coyote looks at the comic on its phone, strokes its chin suspiciously and asks “did that really happen?” Caption: the answer is always yes. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A monkey reads the comic in zine form and think “did they really say that?” Caption: the answer is usually yes. Page six: Caption: When a specific phrase is the point of the strip, it’s recorded verbatim. The mouse says “you’re marching to the beat of the potato drum.” Caption: is a direct quote. Caption: When the point is something else, I sometimes take small liberties to make the memory fit well inside four panels. The cat sits at its drawing table, holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a paper with two comic panels in the other. Caption: Usually that means I make myself or the mouse play the part of the straight man because it will improve a joke. The cat and the mouse, dressed as clowns, stand in a circus tent. The cat pulls the clown nose from the mouse’s face and holds up a pie, ready to strike. Caption: In reality, neither of us is much of a straight man, but all art demands some sacrifices. Caption: In every way that matters, this comic always tells the truth. The cat looks up at a large, glowing, winged sphinx statue version of itself. The statue and framing is a reference to the all knowing Southern Oracle from the film adaptation of “The Neverending Story”. Caption: I am doing this to aid my memory after all, so it wouldn’t be very helpful to make my life seem more funny, interesting or relatable than it really is. The cat draws a comic while watching paint dry on the wall. Caption: That would be a pretty cruel joke to play on my future, more confused self. The cat scratches its head at a drawing of themselves as the winner of a beauty contest, wearing a sash and crown, waving to the crowd and holding flowers. Caption: She’ll probably have enough to contend with… The cat looks suspiciously at its own reflection in the mirror, not recognising it. The drawing is a pastiche of a panel from the webcomic “Gunshow” by KC Green. Caption: Maybe some of my comics will be funny or interesting or relatable to you anyway. That would make me very happy. The cat smiles and presses its paws to its face in joy, seeing that a bear and a horse are reading the comic together and laughing. Cartoon hearts float over the cat. Caption: Some of the comics probably won’t do much for anybody but me, but that’s okay too. The cat presses a page of the comic to its chest, looking contented and protective. In the last panel, the cat and the mouse are floating on air with a blue sky and white clouds behind them. The cat is smiling and twirling around, holding a paint brush out like a wand. From the brush flows paint that swirls around the two figures and making shapes of green leaves and orange and yellow flowers. On two looping blue ribbons appear the last captions: This is a record of my silly little life. Good or bad, I’m glad I get to share it. End ID.

Here’s a little introduction to External Memory! It was fun to make a proper neat and full colour comic - it’s been a while ^^

(If you like this project, please reblog this post! You can also subscribe to my patreon where I post one comic every day ^^)

#comic #comics #original comic #web comic #webcomic #diary comic #slice of life #autobiographical comics #journal comics #comic artists on tumblr #external memory comic #slice of life comic #apologies for the long post tumblr does that any time I put in tags for some reason #described #long post

[sebstan2020]

Trespassing

Mafia Bucky Barnes x Reader

Whilst getting lost, you accidentally trespass into a mafia’s mansion and find yourself being punished by the leader himself

Warnings: Dominance, Submission, Smut, BDSM, Spanking Fingering, Bondage, NSFW

The sun was blazing and there was a cool wind in the air. The daisies were now fully bloomed, and it was a perfect summer day. The grass was a healthy shade of green, neatly cut, and soft to the touch. You had decided to take a long walk to a quiet area, away from the busy roads and noise of New York City. You couldn’t think with all the noise and your exams were starting soon. If you were going to get into Law school, you needed to do all the revision you could and not waste a single moment which prompted you to take a long hike to a quiet patch of grass and sit in the sun and study.

Time flew by as you happily made notes from your textbook, highlighting words in fun pastel colours and outline with gel pens. You were pleased with the aesthetic of your notes, and it made the thought of revising a little more fun. It had been at least five hours since you arrived at the quiet spot and your stomach was starting to rumble from hunger, so you decided to head back. Hitching up your bag, you started your way back home.

However, getting back home wasn’t as easy as you thought.  you could have sworn you were going the right way but as you took every step, the road never ending and no sight of civilisation or traffic, you were starting to doubt yourself. You could turn back and walk the other way but what if you were going the right way in the first place. So much for wandering far from home.

“Shit” you whispered to yourself, standing in the middle of nowhere, no clue what to do. The logical thing to do would be to get a map up on your phone but of course there was no signal. You held your phone high in the sky, searching for one little bar and some hope that you would be able to find your way home. But it wasn’t looking like your lucky day. The sun was getting hotter by the minute, and you had run out of water. Taking a hunch, you carried on the way you were going, praying that when you passed this corner, you’d see a car or two and be on your way back home.

But nothing, just endless road, and grass. Your feet were starting to ache, and sweat was dripping down your face. Until something caught your eye, and you stopped mid step. A gate. It was huge and placed between two long lines of bushes. You dragged yourself over and relief hit you as you saw the huge mansion behind the black gates. You must have been going the wrong way because you didn’t notice this house on the way here. But at least there would be someone here to help you get home or make a phone call for a taxi. The only thing was how to get to the front door.

The gates were thick and tall, with sharp spikes at the top. To the side was a small control panel with numbers and it was clear you needed a code to get in. You weren’t sure if you should fiddle with the buttons but upon tapping a few and a loud buzz, it proved that this wasn’t going to be the way to get in. Standing back, you sighed as you realised what you might have to succumb to. The bushes were large and the bristles thick, but it looked like you might be able to squeeze past. It was the only way. Normally you weren’t so for breaking and entering, in fact the idea would never even come across your mind. You were a good girl, never breaking the law and ordinarily you would stand here and wait. But time was of the essence, and you didn’t have long before you would pass out from the heat or realise no one was home.

Slipping through the side of the bush where it met the gate, you pushed yourself through, the branches scratching your arms and snagging on your dress. You realised there was a thick wooden fence running through the middle of the bushes which you had to jump over. hitching one foot up on the top of the fence, you gave yourself a push and a boost to jump over but resulted in falling, cutting your leg, and falling to the ground. But you were over.

“Ahhh” you hissed as your hands landed in the ground, scratched, and burned, your dress with grass stains and mud. But you were over. Pushing yourself off the ground, you made head way on to the front of the mansion. The place was massive. There was a long driveway leading up to the front with a huge garage holding at least five cars. The mansion was white with sleek doors and windows and stone. There was a fountain in the middle, water trickling down into a huge bowl made of ceramic. The grass was perfectly cut and there were no weeds. This place must have cost a bomb.

“Hey!”.

You were halfway there when a sharp voice made you jump, turning with wide eyes. A tall man dressed in a blue suit, dark brown hair and a beard came storming over. A cigarette was between his fingers, and he flicked it to the ground. He was walking so fast you didn’t have time to react as he tackled you to the ground, falling on top. You gasped from the shock of his huge body pinning you down, long legs straddling you, your arms only free to move. He was heavy and the strong scent of cologne and cigarettes hit your nose.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he questioned, glaring down at you and you stammered for a response.

“I-I…” you could barely speak from fear but that wasn’t scared you. A sharp snatch of his handgun from his pocket made you freeze, holding your hands in defence as he pointed it at you. Your stomach was shaking with fear and hands shivering with shock.

“You’ve got five seconds to tell me why your trespassing” he ordered, and you gulped, shaking your head, lips quivering.

“I-I wasn’t… I got lost an- “the man narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the gun closer.

“Don’t bullshit me girl… are you a cop?” he shoved his gun closer, and you tensed, shaking your head no.

“No, no, no I’m not a cop, I promise, I just got lost and need help home” you begged but it didn’t look like he was convinced.

“Oh really, you know the boss really doesn’t like trespassers” the man gave an evil smile, his gun just inches from your face.

“The Boss?” you squeaked. Whoever this man was and whoever the man ‘the boss’ was, they weren’t to be messed with. How could it be you stumbled upon a residency where they weren’t fond of trespassers and okay, maybe it looked like you were, but you meant no harm.

“Alright that’s it, you’re coming with me” he yanked the front of your dress, pulling you from the ground and dragged you towards the mansion, stumbling with every step.

……….

How you ended up in this situation you didn’t know.  It was obvious you stumbled upon some gangster, mafia, hooligan, whatever you wanted to call it household and now you were in deep shit. Your heart was racing, and stomach filled with butterflies of nerves. You hadn’t been this scared since you needed your vaccination. If only you had gone the right way home, you’d be back in your safe, warm bed. But instead, you were here.

The room was dark, not pitch black that you couldn’t see but eerie. The floor was wooden, with cracks and holes, the walls dark and the lights above dimmed. It looked more like a dungeon of some sorts looking at the walls. Chains hung in long lengths, each one hanging on its own hook followed by belts, leather straps, cuffs, and rope. Next to that a wall of implements looking rather scary. Long whips, long sticks, paddles, handles with long leather strands. You had no idea what any of those did and you didn’t want to know. There was a chest of old draws as well most likely holding other torturous equipment.

As for you, you had nowhere to go. Currently being tied up. You were stood in the middle of the room, naked, your clothes discarded in a small pile to the side. The man that took you in held you at gun point whilst he ordered you to take your clothes off. You did so without hesitation out of fear of getting hurt. Once you were bare, he bound you tightly and left you here in silence. There was a metal collar wrapped around your neck, tight but enough room to swallow and breath. From the collar, a chain ran down the centre of your body, leading to a metal belt around your hips. Each wrist was cuffed with a leather cuff, locked to the belt with little to no room to wiggle them. from there, a long piece of chain ran down the middle of your legs, cuffs around your thighs, knees and ankles all attached to the one chain and finally chained to the floor. There was a chain holding you up to the ceiling, keeping you in place and preventing you from falling over.

Never, ever in your life had you ever been tied up like this, a vulnerable girl on show for the next person to walk in and see. Like you said before, you were a good girl, innocent, sweet and kind, a nerd. Someone who spent their time studying, doing good deeds. You weren’t religious but you might as well be. Never did you sin. But today was a different story.

The man who reeked of cigarettes and cologne had left you about fifteen minutes although it felt like hours and the only thing you could hear was the rattles of chains and your heavy breaths shaking from your lungs. You scanned the room constantly, trying to look behind you to the door but there was no leeway. It was all a waiting game.

Suddenly the door opened, a loud creak and you froze, the chains ceasing their rattles. The door shut with a firm push and the sound of heavy evenly paced footsteps sounded behind you. Your eyes went wide, cheeks flushing with the thought of a stranger walking in to see you naked and tied. You thought best to not struggle and scream for help. They could have a gun too. A strong scent of cologne hit your nose and it was intoxicating as the body came nearer to you. You took a shaky breath in, swallowing hard and the person came into view as he stepped in front of you. You looked with wide eyes up at him, biting you lower lip nervously.

He was tall, at least six feet. His cologne was sharp and rich. He had longish dark hair, unlike the man before, a few strands dropping in front of his face. His jawline was snatched underneath a beard. His eyes were dark like the ocean, gazing at you intensely. He wore a suit of fine black, a cotton turtleneck underneath a double-breasted jacket with matching tight slacks and polished dress shoes. He was a thing of beauty, his chiselled jaw line clenching as he sucked in his cheeks, eyes wandering all over you. You didn’t speak nor move, and he stopped in front of you, staring.

The first noise you made was a sort of squeak as the silence was beating down on you. A slight rattle of the chains had you tugging at them from his intimidating stare.

“Well, I didn’t expect to come home to this but here we are” he spoke, his voice like liquid gold, smooth and luxurious. He must be the boss, the one the other man was talking about.

He took a step around you, his eyes inspecting every inch of your body, humming softly as he circled you like a vulture on its prey.

“Perhaps you want to explain to me why you were trespassing on my property?” he asked, his voice a little demanding as he appeared back in front, and you swallowed.

“I-I wasn’t… well I mean I didn’t mean to. You see I was studying and I decided to go somewhere quiet and I found this nice spot but then I couldn’t remember the way home and my cell was working and I ran out of water and then I found this place so I thought I could ask for help but then I couldn’t get in so I jumped the gate but then a man jumped on me and thought I was a cop and… now I’m here” you rambled on like a nervous wreck explaining every part of your story whilst the man stood and listened, his eyes narrowing.

“You came out in the middle of nowhere to studying?” he questioned, raising a brow. It seemed silly the way he was saying it… and maybe upon realising it was.

“Well, I wanted a quiet place to do my notes, the city can be so distracting sometimes” you murmured, and the man gave a light chuckle. He glanced over to the pile of clothes where your bag was also situated. He padded over to it, opening it up and pulling out your textbook, trailing back over to you.

“You want to go into law” he asked, glancing to you sideways whilst he opened the book.

“Yeah, I want to be a lawyer, I have so many exams and so little time to study an- “a slam of the book cut you off and made you jump, watching as he threw the book to the side, letting it clatter and he didn’t even flinch. You were rambling too much, a nervous habit you picked up.

“What else is in that bag of yours?” he smirked, opening the bag up further and digged around. He pulled out your cell phone, flipping it open. Of course, you owed a flip phone. Those newer models were way to fancy for you.

“Oh, who’s Peter, is he your boyfriend?” he smirked, opening up a text from him. You blushed heavily, despite Peter only being a friend of yours but the man was so intimidating, he could say anything and make you heat up.

“Oh, no he’s not my boyfriend, he’s a friend who happens to be a boy but there’s nothing there between us and probably won’t be” you started to ramble on again, nerves getting the better of you as the man circled you, scrolling through your phone before coming back in front of you, sighing heavily.

“He likes this other girl cal-mmm” the man grabbed your lips, squeezing them together to silence you and towered over you, his cologne getting stronger as he leaned close.

“Shut. Up” he ordered.

“Okay” you managed to squeak out, staring up at him and he smiled, releasing your cheeks.

“What’s your name?” he asked, stepping back slightly. You told him your name, staring up at him, hands clenching in the cuffs and legs shaking a little.

“So, you don’t have a boyfriend” he said, and you shook your head no.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” he asked, and you shook your head no again. You hadn’t had a relationship at all… and you were still a virgin.

“So, all of this is… untouched” he waved to your body, and you gulped, not nodding your head by the answer was clear. A greedy smirk appeared on his lips, his eyes slightly tightening.

“What are you going to do with me?” you asked scared, and the man took a deep breath, as if he was thinking for a moment before he stepped closer, causing you to lift your head up to look at him as he towered over you.

“I’m going to punish you for trespassing on my property” he grinned.

“But I didn’t” you pleaded, and he raised a brow.

“Really… did you forget the part that you told me about jumping my gate and wondering into my garden. I’m sure Steve told you, but I don’t like trespassers” Steve, that was his name. It was nice to put a name to the face.

“Uh huh” you nodded.

“I mean I could call the cops, have them arrest you, charged for trespassing and I’m sure that wouldn’t look good on your application for law school”.

No, anything but that. you had worked so hard to get where you were, a silly little thing like this could blow it all up.

“No, please… I’ll do what you want” you begged, and he chuckled.

“Good girl” he truly was an evil man. He brushed his body against you as he stood behind you, his hands starting to touch you. They were warm and his skin was smooth except for the cold rings adorning his hands. One on his pinkie on the left and one on his thumb on the right. His nose trailed over your shoulder, dragging up your neck to your ear.

“Wh-what’s your name?” you dared to ask, wondering who the man torturing you was. He grinned softly behind you, whispering into your ear.

“It’s James… but you can call me Sir”.

“Have you ever been tied up like this” he whispered, his hands slightly distracting you as they felt every inch and curve of your body. You shuddered at the tingle that went through your body, a warm feeling in between your thighs.

“No” you whispered, and he smirked.

“Have you ever been spanked before” he asked, and you gulped.

“No” you squeaked and a sharp slap to your ass came quickly, causing you to jolt and yelp.

“No what” he ordered softly, and you bit you lip, your mind completely elsewhere.

“No, I haven’t?” you said with no confidence, and he grabbed your ass tightly in his hand.

“No Sir” he corrected.

“You know only bad girls get spanked. I’m sure you’re a good girl most of the time, aren’t you?” he teased, his hand slowly rubbing the sore spot he had just spanked.

“Yes, I am… Sir” you remembered quickly to answer with Sir.

“But today you decided to be a bad girl, didn’t you?” you gulped, blushing bright red.

“Ummm” you weren’t sure how to answer.

“Yes, you did” he answered for you before spanking you hard. you lurched forward, losing your balance a little, the chains rattling hard, but you gathered yourself again. His hand spanked you hard again, his fingers gripping the underside of your ass. You groaned, your ass starting to sting. Another spank came, harder and you whimpered, tugging at the cuffs. James laughed softly under his breath, his nose tickling the back of your ear, lips trailing his neck and he pressed a soft kiss to a sensitive spot. You couldn’t help the moan escape, a noise you had never made.

“You like this don’t you, you like me hurting you” he teased, and you shook your head.

“No” you whispered.

“Your pussy says different” he answered, a hand creeping between your thighs and his fingers glided over your wet pussy, gathering the dripping juices. You gasped at his tender touch, having never had a pair of fingers down there before.

“This little virgin pussy is dripping for me” he placed his head on your shoulder, staring down your body as his hand began to rub small circles along your clit, sending shocks through your body.

“Oh… Sir” you whimpered, crumbling in your ties and under his touch. He spanked you again, leaving your ass bright red and marked.

“Look at you, just crumbling under my touched. You are really innocent aren’t you” he smiled, and you gulped. His beard scratched your delicate skin, rubbing across as he pressed a kiss to your neck, biting the sensitive area and sucking hard. You yanked at the chains as he sucked harder, pulling the skin and letting it pop, leaving a bright purple mark. Never had you felt like this before, all these feelings and tingles and shocks and pain and pleasure mixing all into one overload of sensations. James spanked you some more, your ass turning numb from the impact, leaving fingerprint marks across your skin, a mark of his work.

“Now, are you going to be a good girl and not trespass again?” he asked, his hand dipping back onto your pussy, fingers slipping through the flaps and reaching your clit, rolling small circles that made you tighten at how good it felt.

“Yes Sir” you breathed, eyes shut and legs shaking. There was a growing sensation over your pussy, heating up and getting more pleasurable as he rubbed.

“Oh god” you whined, wondering what that sensation was leading to. James continued rubbing, his fingers moving faster until you reached a climax, slipping over the edge pulsing with pleasure, juices running down his fingers. Your body turned hot and sweaty, eyes rolling to the back of your head and hands tightening in the cuffs. It was a high you’d never felt before and it was insane. James chuckled as he slowed his pace, pressing a kiss to your skin.

“You just had your first orgasm baby” he whispered, and you gasped, eyes shooting open, and he chuckled, giving your ass a slap. The slap felt like nothing since your ass was so numb. Your first orgasm. You always thought you’d have your first with the love of your life or your first boyfriend and yet it was taken by this handsome dominant man. And yet, you weren’t mad. More confused and couldn’t quite comprehend it all.

“Come on, I’ll take you home” he said as you caught your breath, calming down from your intense climax.

You sat in the seat next to James, legs clenched together as your pussy soaked your panties. What just happened. Anyone would have screamed and begged to be let go, cried whilst they were spanked and tortured like that, especially as she had never been touched before. Yet, she had enjoyed it, every moment. Why, she didn’t know, and she wouldn’t be able to think clearly until she wasn’t next to the intimidating dominant man driving the car. His car was sleek and fancy, leather seats and high-tech interior. He drove with one hand, the other lazily resting on the rest in the middle of them. You watched nervously as you entered the city, pulling up to your place. You lived in an apartment on your own, moving in when you moved up town to Brooklyn for law school. You decided to take a year’s gap to earn as much money as you could before going to law school.

James stopped the car gently, turning off the ignition before turning to look at you.

“I want you to meet me here tomorrow” he said. it wasn’t a question; it was an order.

“Wh-what for?” you asked, fiddling with your bag on your lap.

“Because I’m not done with you yet” he smirked, and a tingle shot through your body. You bit your lip and nodded slowly.

“O-okay” you answered, and he smiled. James leant over and you sucked in breath before realising he was opening the door for you.

“Now get out” he ordered, and you scrambled out.

“Um… thanks for the lift” you said politely. You couldn’t help not saying thank you, that’s just who you were. He smirked and gave a light laugh through his nose before pulling away, the engine roaring. You raced into your apartment, throwing your bag on the floor, and dumping your body on the couch.

What the fuck just happened.

Part 2

Hey so I hope you like it, let me know what you think in the comments

@pattiemac1​

@sebastiansluts​

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dom bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes #Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebby stan

[daddyricsdoll]

Quiet ✭ George Russell

Summary: Maybe it was because you were proud, or maybe it was because he was yours. But you needed him, in more ways than one, starting in the car.

Warnings: Fingering and unprotected sex.

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: This is based off of this request. I made George a little less vanilla but that's all. I can't change all of him.

He intertwined our hands as we walked out of the paddock, people interrupting our silence, begging for a photo with the brit. When we finally got to the car, George opened the door for me while whispering the sweet pet name he has always used. He closed the door and strided around the car into the driver's seat, a long sigh leaving his mouth once the door closed.

“Well today was good wasn’t it darling?” George turns and faces me. “Yeah, I think so. You did great.” He leans over and gives me a peck on my lips, which leads my hands to either side of his face and I only deepen the kiss. 

George’s hands go to my hips and try to pull my body closer, but the middle panel in the car stops his actions. It fails to make our lips part, until the realisation of our location sets in. 

We both break away with heavy breaths and look around, to our luck no spectators stood around. “Let’s get out of here.” 

George readjusts himself in seat, places both hands on the steering wheel and then starts driving us to somewhere more private. As we make our way further from the track George becomes less tense and rests his hand on my leg. 

Fingers drawing little circles on my inner thigh, and very slowly making their way higher up my dress. I act oblivious to his actions and continue staring out of the window, every once a while glaring at his travelling hand. 

The body of his fingers brush against my core and the light sensation against my clit make my back straighten and head snap to George. A smirk dancing on his face and the tips of his finger start caressing my panties before moving it to the side and running his middle finger through my drenched folds. 

My breath hitched and I widened my thighs as far as my seat would let me. George’s eyes still stuck on the road, and the car silent except for the quiet radio until one of his slender fingers slides into me and a soft moan emits from my mouth. 

George chuckles and starts pumping his finger into me more consistently and then seconds later he squeezes another finger in me. 

I move my hips in sync with his fingers, and try to keep my face as neutral as I can for passing cars. But George had other plans as he started using his palm to rub against my clit and force my lips to part, little remnants of moans and whines left my mouth and George started thrusting harder, going knuckles deep and curling his fingers. 

I start biting my finger, trying to stop myself from screaming out. “Oh come on darling, I want to hear you.” His words add another effect to me and I quickly remove my finger from my mouth finally letting my elated noises come out freely. 

“Do you think you can handle another?” I nod my head eagerly and arch my back as a yes, then feel myself being stretched as his three fingers pound into me. Hushed curses leave his full lips and simultaneously the build up of my climax has nearly reached its peak. 

The faint shifts of my hips adding friction to George perfectly striking my g spot. And just in those swift moments I cum with a whine and uncontrolled movements. 

When I calm down from my high, I look out of the window and realise we sit in front of our hotel, but the bulge in George’s pants isn’t getting any smaller. I look up at the brunette and observe the way he wraps his lips around his long fingers and sucks them with the same precision he would use in the car. 

A satisfied hum leaks from his mouth and it forces me to reach out to him, and try to heal his need. But George removes my hand and signals his head to the entrance of the hotel. “Let's go, we’ll have more freedom.” 

We both trickle out of the car and make our way into the hotel, bee lining straight to our room. Once the door closed, George ushered me to the bed while he worked the buckle of his belt. 

I slide my panties down my legs and leave them on the floor, as I go to lay on the bed. My dress still on, but pulled up to bunch against my breasts. I hear George’s light footsteps make their way closer to me and his calloused palms rests on the top of each of my thighs, spreading them wider. 

After pulling my body a little closer to his, merely hanging off the bed, George slides his tip through my folds. Teasing my entrance and forcing me to writhe my body, weak whimpers leave my mouth and then in a slow and steady push George fills me up with his whole length. 

His rosy lips part and eyelids clench together. As the brunette becomes more comfortable his thrusts become stronger. The feeling of his raw dick sliding through me, and stretching my walls impels me to clench my pussy. 

Both my legs bent at the knee, one of them nearly resting next to my face. The new position gives George access even deeper into me, concomitantly he starts stroking my clit impacting the culmination of my second release of the day.

I watch the man in front of me, eyes heavy lidded, scarcely covering his sky blue irises. His thrusts start losing their sequence and his thumb starts carelessly swiping at my clit. 

The stimulation becomes too much and the desire for him that courses through me, leaves as I release. A long wail departs my mouth and then a deep groan leaves George as well. 

He mutters a quick “Fuck” as he finishes in me, a few more sloppy thrusts and noises that bring a smile to his perfect mouth before he finally pulls out. Resulting in me feeling empty as his presence leaves for moments before he saunters back to me and starts wiping at my core. 

The place he had just filled, and satisfied. The fabric of the cloth he uses to clean me adds a sense of pleasure to my calm. But I don’t take any action to it and instead thank George, for… everything. 

He fills my inner thighs with delicate kisses and then joins me on the bed. His tousled hair splayed on the pillow beside me and his arm rests on my waist, I breathe out full of peace and a smile of content settles on my face. 

My love, mine all mine.

#george russell #f1 smut #f1 #f1 x reader #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell smut #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

[amomentsescape]

Wrong Place, Right Time

Billy Loomis x Reader

Summary: Billy wanted nothing more than to add four more teens to his killing list. However, you were the last one he expected to be there.

Warnings: Violence & death, fluff

Word Count: 1,231

A/N: It felt right to kick off my Slasher Summer writings with Billy. He's been a long time favorite of mine, and it just felt right. As a reminder, I am taking any and all requests. If you have a slasher you'd like me to write for, let me know!

He could already feel the adrenaline coursing through his body. He was practically shaking as he slowly crept in through the back door of a ridiculously decked out house.

"Idiots," he muttered. The people who lived here didn't even bother locking the door.

As he finally made his way inside, he could hear chatter and heavy music making its way from upstairs.

Billy smiled as he listened.

Word had clearly spread that there was some psycho murderer making their way around the area. It only seemed right for people to ban together at night, hoping that the large gathering would deter a killer from attacking.

But clearly this group wasn't being too cautious. Leaving the door unlocked and having the stereo on high wasn't exactly rule number one in any "how to stay alive in a horror movie" pamphlet.

With this being said, the group was doing at least one thing right.

They were all together in the same room.

This was going to make Ghostface's job a little more difficult, but not impossible by any means.

He quickly turned back towards the door and signaled that he was ready.

Stu nodded back at him, having been waiting outside for his cue.

Billy smiled as he watched Stu disappear. And that smile only grew when the lights all cut out, sending everyone into a hush.

He slowly made his way up the stairs in the dark, being careful not to make any sound.

He was close enough now that he could make out voices whisper-shouting to each other. One person finally groaned out a "fine" as they left the rest of the group.

Billy considered this for a moment and realized that they were likely heading outside to the electrical panel.

He let out a frustrated sigh at this, knowing that he was going to have to go after them quickly. Stu promised not to get in the way this time.

This was his night.

As he heard the front door slam shut, Billy continued his way upstairs. He'd deal with them later.

It didn't take long to get through the group. There were only three others besides whoever left.

Ghostface jumped out from the darkness and quickly stabbed the throat of some teenage boy he had seen once or twice in the halls of their high school.

The other two girls quickly jumped up and screamed as they witnessed their friend being slaughtered right before their eyes.

One headed for the front door, but he was quick to grab onto her hair and throw her hard against the ground. The wind was suddenly knocked from her and she barely had time to gasp out when the metal blade punctured into the middle of her chest.

She shook out a few spasms and coughed up blood before her eyes quickly glazed over.

Ghostface stood back up and made his way down the hall, having seen the second girl sprint in that direction just moments before.

He felt pretty confident as he walked, already knowing where she was hiding.

Only one door was closed and if Stu and him had mapped it out correctly, it was a small bathroom with a window barely big enough to fit a child through.

"Too easy," he muttered to himself.

With a few swift kicks, the door swung open to an empty room- or so one would think.

As he tore open the shower curtain, the girl jumped up and tried to slash him with a pair of pointed scissors she had found.

She was too slow however, and Billy was quick to grab her arm and throw her body against the tiled wall.

He grabbed her head forcefully and slammed it over and over before finally using his knife to finish the job.

Easy work, he thought.

With that, he suddenly heard yelling coming from downstairs.

"Guys?"

This made Billy freeze up.

That voice. How did he not recognize it sooner?

He slowly crept his way to the top of the stairs, carefully peaking over as to not be seen. And that's when he realized it was you.

For the first time that night, Billy was scared.

You were the only one that got to see a genuine smile from the boy, the only one who Billy thought was worth living.

You both had a couple of classes together, but neither of you said much to one another. Billy had to keep up his persona with Sidney, and he didn't trust himself to do that around you.

You were much too pretty and smart to talk to anyways.

Billy had overheard conversations you'd have with some of your friends during lunch or in between classes.

You loved the same horror movies as him and always glowed when talking about your favorite characters.

He couldn't help but smile almost every day while watching you, taking in every little quirk and laugh you'd let out.

Billy had no choice but to become smitten with you.

And this is why his dilemma left him at a standstill.

He didn't want to kill you. No, he couldn't kill you. You were just too precious in his world full of anger and pain.

But what was his other option? He just killed your friends.

In his defense, he'd seen you talk to these people once or twice at school. He didn't realize you actually liked them. He may be a murderer, but he's not heartless. He didn't want to kill anyone that you cared about. But it was a little late for apologies.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself.

As you stood at the bottom level, looking around for your friends, you began to hear footsteps descending the stairs.

You quickly spun to the side and saw him.

Ghostface.

Your jaw dropped as if preparing for a scream, but no sound made its way out.

What was the point anyways? Your friends were likely all dead, and that meant there was no one else to hear your screams for help.

But if he was going to kill you, he sure was taking his sweet time.

He was walking so slowly towards you. If it weren't for the current circumstance, you would have almost thought he was trying not to scare you.

As he got closer, you began to back away from him.

You kept going until your body hit the cold wall behind you.

This was it.

He finally found himself about a foot away from you, staring through you with whatever eyes were behind that mask.

Your breath hitched and your eyes began to water. Fear overcame you as you realized that you were going to die.

As the tears began to drip down your face, Ghostface closed the gap.

He raised his hand up towards you, and you flinched away knowing that he was going to grab you by the throat and crush the wind from your lungs.

However, this wasn't what happened.

You felt the leather glove softly graze against your cheek. You carefully tipped your head back in his direction, your brows furrowing.

"W-what are you-"

His hand suddenly caressed your face, his thumb running over the wet spots your tears left behind.

You watched his shoulders sag a bit, as if he finally let go of a breath he had been holding.

And without a moment to process what was happening, he disappeared into the darkness.

#billy loomis imagine #billy loomis preference #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #ghostface x reader #ghostface #scream #scream franchise #scream movie #scream 1996 #slashers x reader #slasher preference #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher summer

[johnnys-breastmilk]

VHS Tape 1A - "Sleepover" | Wally Clark x Male!Reader

a/n – THIS is what sent me into a writing slump but lets hope i conquered it by finishing this

Summary – Last night, Wally invited you to a sleepover as a joke, but things turned serious by the end of the night.

warnings – drinking, sex, mentions of anal, oral (wally receiving), pre-death!Wally Clark, dirty talk, 18+, he might be a tad bit ooc!

words — 6.1k

~~~

Life was something that, to you, needed to be treated with the same level of thought and care as with anything else contained within it. You tried to be mindful of your grades at school, steered clear of any and all uses of drugs, especially the lethal ones, and kept your inner circle small for the most part. The teachers addressed you the same way you did them, on a first-name basis. You had practically secured a spot on the faculty-designated pages of the yearbook. That’s why, when Wally's constant teasing about the night you stayed over at his house started up, you almost didn’t believe him.

There was a black spot in your memory, a time when nothing existed to you, but something was there that he knew of. You tried to think back to the moments leading up to everything that had happened, things you knew for sure. It was the Friday before a huge exam that would take place on Monday of the following week, and a folded-up note was passed to you in fourth period–Psychology–from the back of the class. While the teacher was turned away, you carefully unfurled it to get to the message inside. To you, the plans for that night seemed normal enough–a sleepover study session to cram in as much information for the exam with enough booze to calm everyone’s nerves, as explained by Wally’s messy and strung-together letters on the note. It felt a little counter-intuitive, but he insisted on supplying the alcohol. He claimed that it would help encourage others in the class to show up and take their academics seriously, and you were inclined to believe his words. Who didn’t love free drinks and a jock with a nice house to get wasted in?

That was your first mistake, and the second came when he invited you over the day after the so-called sleepover. He flooded your landline with numerous calls, excitedly telling you all about how he got everything from last night on film and that he would be over to pick you up soon. The mere sight of his house from the windshield of his Cutlass jogged your memory. You remembered hesitantly walking up to his door, textbook in hand with a look of awe as you ogled at his house’s exterior. Typically middle class with a clean front exterior combining brick on the first floor and light blue paneling on the second. His house extended into a two-door garage, but both doors were closed the night you went. And the next morning, one was open as he pulled into the right side of the vacant garage. The door slid down behind you, sounding exactly how you wanted the VCR to when Wally inevitably played back last night’s events on tape. Once it shut, the only light emanated from his beamers on the front and back-ends. The light forming a clearing from the shroud of darkness in the room felt exactly like your memory. You knew where to go to learn the truth, and now, it felt like you didn’t know how to turn back.

In the passenger seat, the armrest between you and him wasn’t the only thing separating the two of you. From what Wally hinted at on the ride over, you two seemed to be on the same page last night, and he didn’t mean the textbook. 

You sighed, piecing together your own path leading away from it all, “Do I really want to know what happened last night?” 

“You definitely do. It was legendary!” Wally insisted.

“As long as it’s not embarrassing…”

If you went into his house, you ran the risk of remembering something you could have lived your whole life not knowing about; something you might end up wishing to forget. But the thought of what exactly happened was too tempting not to find out. How bad could it be? The only way to find out would be to watch it and see what looks like you do things you couldn’t recall.

Wally casually placed a hand on your thigh, “Hey, we were both pretty drunk. And after watching the tape this morning, I can confidently say, I would do everything on it all over again.”

“Pfft. You held the camera, I bet you’re barely in it.” His hand felt out of place, like seeing someone place their palm on an open burner on the stove. Any heat from before didn’t boil over into this morning, though, including your worries leading up to the moment you arrived at his house.

“I was basically your co-star! Here–let’s recreate it.” Wally hopped out the driver’s side of the lowrider, rounding the hood of the car and opening your door. He offered out a hand, but you didn’t take it.

His garage door didn’t stay closed for long, as he had the perfect plan to reenact the interaction that started it all.

“I’ll head in through the door in here, you go to the front door and I’ll be there to answer,” he directed. You did as he said, taking the little paved pathway to his house, picking up on the littlest of details in his front yard to see if anything rang a bell. Nothing. The same could be said as you knocked on his door–the vibrant red facing you with a gold handle and lock above it to fit a jagged-cut Clark house key. The anxious feelings you got standing at his door less than twenty-four hours ago didn’t pull your stomach into knots this time. It was like your body had lived through the feeling of resolve–maybe a forgotten rejection–but your head was still catching up to all of those feelings.

A few seconds went by and you heard the lock click out of place, followed by the door swinging open with the turn of the handle. He answered the door in the same way as he had before: an arm raised above his head, leaning against the door with it and greeting you with a wide smile. The only difference was his clothing. Last night, he donned dark-colored jeans and a forest-green jumper. Today, he wore a lighter shade of blue denim for his pants, mostly to keep it from clashing with his white tee-shirt and navy blue letterman jacket he earned from his dedication to football. On top of his head, he wore a black baseball cap, turned one-hundred and eighty degrees to face backward. There was one accessory missing that greeted you with its eye at the door as well–Wally’s camera. You remembered the video camera he had been waving around in your face when he answered the door. He claimed that it was a gift he received earlier that day and wanted to take it for a test run. 

He practically used it as his way of seeing, his way of looking at you, and memorializing something as simple as studying. It felt a bit insincere the first time around like he was just doing it for the proof that he was a nice person to everyone, not just his football team. But right now, you felt more attended to, more cared for by his brown eyes not hidden behind a video camera. Even with his forgiving and welcoming nature, it couldn’t keep you from recalling the meandering conversation you had when you first arrived. 

“Remember… anything?” He held the ‘er’ longer than the awkward silence lasted as he moved out of the doorframe, waiting for you to enter the lion’s den. You shook your head, “Just that your house is nice and all.”

The memories started to slowly fade in as he took you inside with him. His house let you in and welcomed you with a warm foyer, brightly lit from floor-to-ceiling windows and thin drapes pulled back to let the light seep in. The furniture, from the kitchen to the living room, looked well lived in, but it hadn’t lost that cozy feeling. There were still many more memories to make on them, but you were concerned about one in particular.

He led you to the same brown leather couch that you felt vaguely acquainted with, and you took a seat on the left end of the couch. He took the right side and left the middle cushion vacant. A mismatched, wavy-patterned chair sat turned to face the couch and the coffee table caught in the crossroads of both directions. You noticed the walls were white with pastel blue accents. Images of ships at sea and framed family photos fill the space between the windows in the room, which made it feel like Wally stared at you from every angle you could think of. Simply looking to the end table to your left brought him closer to you, and when you turned to look at the older version of the man in the photo, he had scooted over to the middle seat. 

“I got the tape.” He said. Wally flashed the tape in your direction, looking proud of his creation. In those brief moments, you were able to see the word Sleepover crudely written in black Sharpie. He had already given a title to his film, and maybe you should have been happy that it wasn’t your name followed by the description of something abject.

“Well, put it in!” Your hands waved him off the couch and toward the large entertainment center. At first, it was easy to mistake it for a closet, but as Wally pulled away the two panels in the front, you knew it to house a boxy television. On the shelf below it is a VCR and it’s remote, and on the shelf below that, speakers.

While he put the tape in, you tried channeling any memory of last night from the couch, since you remembered it as the first landmark–besides his kitchen–that would mean anything to you. The note, the car, the couch, the drinks, the textbook–all things you went over and over again in your head, but couldn’t quite figure out what path they were inescapably leading towards. Spontaneity may have been your downfall here, as one unexpected factor revealed on the tape could change the direction the night had gone in. Wally reclaimed his seat on the couch, directly next to you. The tape whirred in the machine as its innards stretched and rolled around various corners to relay its evidence of last night.

The first minutes are nothing much to gawk at. Wally showed himself recording in a mirror, seemingly testing out the device until a knock played out. Holding the camera at chest height during your conversation, he answered his front door as expected. You exchanged greetings and he welcomed you inside.

“Where is everyone?” Watching the recording of yourself felt different. It wasn’t weird or confusing, but you started to notice things about yourself that you wish you could have done in a better manner. 

Wally was hidden behind the camera as he spoke, keeping it focused on you. Maybe that’s why you noticed everything–because it was how he had seen it last night. His voice was louder than yours when he spoke thanks to how close the microphone on the camera was to him. “Oh, they’ll be here later. Is that good with you?” 

“That’s fine. We’ll get a jump on studying.”

You wanted to cringe, is this how you really acted? Nervous and far too afraid to make a move that you sold yourself as a complete loser to compensate for it. This was a part you painfully remembered from last night but it looked better from your perspective. Looking at the observer to your right, he looked content with himself and the product he created. 

You tried to hint that you wanted the jock to fast forward through this preluding embarrassment without giving away how you felt. If you were going to get embarrassed by things from last night, you might as well have seen the worst of it first. “Worst movie ever.” 

“Ouch. Does that make me a bad director?” He played along.

“I think it’s just too boring, plus that one actor can’t say his lines right even if the script was in that book.” You note the textbook that you’re still holding on the screen, clutching it as if it were some kind of last-resort barrier between you and Wally. You refused to pay attention to what you were saying, so as not to feel more embarrassed. Thankfully, the director kept commentating over his home movie.

His gaze doesn’t break from the screen. “Harsh critic, I like it. Let me know what you think of the other lead, he seems pretty handsome.” 

“It’s pretty bold to have the director star in his own film.”

“You’ll come around to the casting choices. There’s one scene later on that will blow your mind,” he smirked, looking over to you.

These were all things you remembered, and he didn’t seem to get the hint, so you asked him to skip ahead outright. “Mind fast-forwarding? To the good parts, I mean.”

Wally’s smirk dropped and he went back to following your command. He was supposed to be the one helping you live through your irretrievable actions, “Yeah, tell me when.”

Wally peeled himself from the couch, reaching for the remote and hitting one button on it a few times. The footage relayed across the screen became as much of a blur as it felt in your head. The speedy actions and jumps from when Wally would occasionally stop recording felt disorienting, but you noticed a brief flash of an alcohol bottle between shaky shots, “There!”

Wally’s stunning looks were on screen, and you deduced that you held the camera this time. You were in his kitchen, just one room over from his living room with a doorway connecting the two. The doorway, it was visible from your spot on the couch, located to the left of the television stand. Seeing the perspective of the camera made you think that you were standing relatively within the doorway, and Wally stood surrounded by the U-shape of his counter. The pearly white gloss of the counter reminded you of his smile–wide, perfect, everywhere. 

The man with those pearly whites ducked below the counter to fetch a bottle of vodka–the sound of a small, whirring machine halting as a door opened played through the screen, suggesting that the Clarks had embellished a wine cooler into their base cabinets. Then, he reached up high to a pantry cabinet emerging from the wall, pulling out two shot glasses. The detail was fuzzy, but you could make out some various juices and zests already prepared for all the woo-woos and cold ducks two rebellious teenagers could want. 

“What unit are we on again?” He asked, trying to make small talk.

You reminded him of what the teacher had written in chalk weeks ago. “Interpersonal attraction.”

“What’s that? I totally studied it, I just… forgot.” He said it as if it wasn’t his fault, and it still sounded virtuous as it re-rang in your ear from the stereo. A thought crossed your mind, that, maybe it wasn’t. He excelled at football and could get into college on that, so long as he steered clear of any injuries that would hold him back, which would mean that his grades just had to be good enough. Maybe he was simply a product of his environment, and you couldn’t really blame him for that.

“When someone only sees the positive side of things in a relationship,” you answered.

“I think this study session is going great.” He said while pouring the vodka into both shot glasses. He filled one higher than the other and rounded the counter with both in hand.

“That’s not it, and it really isn’t. We haven’t even gotten to the hard stuff yet.”

“I said I needed something to help us study. I positively think this will loosen you up a little.” Wally offered one of the shots to you, the last frame holding on his charming face.

The camera cut and the scenery around it changed again, but to something familiar. You were back in the living room you currently watched the tape in, but the table in front of you had been moved off to the side. His camera laid on top of it, capturing you and Wally sitting and facing each other, with your textbook on the ground, filling the distance between you and him. The bottle of alcohol had the cap twisted off, resting upright next to Wally, some cut-up limes scattered on a plate next to that, and your shot glasses next to them. Due to the quality of the camera, you couldn’t quite tell how much of the bottle was empty until Wally picked it up. 

The angle at which he held it while decanting some into his glass answered your question. You and he must have made a dent in the bottle at that point, and your guard was likely lowered as you felt extremely comfortable around Wally. He topped off the shot glass with the clear courage. “If I get this wrong, this one’s yours.”

Expectedly, the question you fired his way was not met with an acceptable answer. Your mind was trying to think of each question like a teacher, how they would accept and consider his answer compared to other students’ responses. As you drank more due to his inability to take the class seriously, you started to slip away from that teacher mentality. This wasn’t the first time he wagered this bet, and it wasn’t the first time he lost, either. Whether it was intentional or on purpose, you held up your end of it. The video showed you preparing yourself for the shot, shaking out a smattering of salt from the castor, and readying yourself to drop the shot glass and lurch for the lime. Your hands felt almost shaky at his failure, knowing that you were bound to mess up the order of the steps.

He talked you through each step.

“Salt…” You could taste it on your tongue, even now. The same could be said for the saliva left on your hand from where you poured the salt out at.

“The shot…” The cold, thick rim of the glass felt indented into your lips. The feeling of the liquid going down your throat, burning as the dehydration set in lingered just the same.

“Then lime! Oh, yeah!” Wally cheered, looking proud of the teacher he had become to you.

You took a moment to let it sink in. Warmth on your face, soon to be everywhere. Courage building up from nothing into something that would perforate the cover of embarrassment.

Then, you looked down at the textbook. Your eyes alternated the pages beyond pages of information at your hands, having so much to pull from that you undoubtedly knew would be regurgitated on to the test, just less profoundly worded than its primary form. When you looked back up. . . had Wally always looked like that? His dark hair looked darker, and softer, like a fuzzy void to rake your fingers through. He did it just as the thought crossed your mind. No doubt he had to be feeling it, the way the buzz started to become the only voice in your head–a voice without reason, a voice known for speaking its mind.

“What three things make up the triangular theory of love?” You would have said it while halfway out the door, ready for embarrassment and tripping over your wordless apologies on the way out, but you were far too deep into his den to leave.

The answer was simple, and through the haze of last night, you still knew it–intimacy, passion, and commitment. Instead, he said, “You, me, naked.”

As you watched over yourself, you were taken aback by hearing his advances. But you were more ashamed of how you completely brushed it off less than a moment later. “Intimacy is one of them, yeah.”

“Okay, smart guy. I want to see you mess all these up.” He teased.

“You’re on.” He turned the textbook around so that it faced him, on your agreement.

“What is…” He flicked through a few pages and scanned over them briefly. “The reinforcement theory?”

“Uh, it’s when the person gets out something of equal or fair value in relation to what they put in.” You said, reciting it almost word-for-word as it was described on the page.

“Can you give me an example?”

It was hard not to utter the answer to yourself like you were watching a contestant on a game show, but even this one knew the million-dollar dinger. “An employee stays at their job because the pay–”

“A real example.” He interrupted. “Say… I kissed you. What could I get outta that?”

The confident and guided version of yourself from last night stood on their knees, almost crawling over to him as they could hardly keep themselves balanced. They looked so foreign yet so familiar–it was you without layers of fear and cowardice covering your most intimate feelings. Silence fell over the two of you as you fell into him, and then, the soft sound of kissing and pulling away played from the TV. The kiss felt straight out of a rom-com rental, but the moments following were pure and unabashed the-cashier-is-sure-to-check-your-ID-at-the- checkout pornography; you could tell when Wally’s jumper came off, and the kiss started to feel more heated than your face from the alcohol.

Next to you, you felt Wally slump forward on the couch, jutting out his hips. Your eyes stayed glued to the screen, almost entranced by what was happening, until you heard the sound of a zipper being undone. In your peripheral sights, Wally’s hands had undone his fly and the button of his jeans.

“Do you mind?” He asked. For a moment, you thought he meant the video. How he captured both of you embracing each other in a way that would be shown in Health class in the near future, likely titled Everything Not to Do In Sex. The headliner would be something along the lines of where not to touch your partner, as the actions playing out on screen were messy due to inexperience and the disorienting relaxation of being under the influence. He would probably end the viewing session by asking to smash the tape in his backyard or something along those lines, not what he had done instead.

“What–holy shit.” You turned to see his light blue denim and dark red boxers bunched further down along his thighs. He had his cock out, toying with it while it was still soft. His heavy balls sat low enough to rest on the cool leather of his brown couch, being pulled up as he tugged on his dick.

“What?” He refused to stop moving his hand. He kept going, almost at a faster pace when his eyes locked on to you in the present. Maybe you had everything all wrong. Wally wasn’t looking at this with regret, he wanted to enjoy last night. You knew he didn’t fully regret everything, as he stated earlier, but you thought he meant that he learned so much or had a fun night. Not this, and not with you of all people. What you were looking at felt like the result of a cheerleader helping the Split River Devils celebrate their big win of the night. 

Your hand pointed out to the image displayed on the screen. Your eyes never once broke from his gaze as you spoke, “It’s me–it’s us–on screen.”

“I know,” he said. His voice stayed the same throughout. 

You couldn’t fathom it–he liked it. “And you’re getting off to this?”

“We make a pretty good pair!” He tried to justify himself, finally breaking from the nonchalance to sound happy about it. You assumed that he must have not cared about whether or not you agreed with him, because he stood up seconds later. “Fuck, I have to make this feel better…” 

You heard his footsteps grow quieter as he left the room, then returned with what sounded like a spring in his step. His dick flopped up and down as he paced around the couch and back to his proclaimed seat on the couch. In his hand is a silvery Pringles Light potato chip canister, emptied of its retail packaging and filled with two halves of a sponge to make a slit in the middle. “I’ve been blue-balling all morning since I saw this…” 

And, suddenly, it became very, very real. He reached for some hand lotion on the table, squirting it into his fleshjack and then into his hand. He lathered the glob on his length, his hand finding a way to spread it along himself with only a few tugs. It was a sign that he was all for it, and you decided that you were, too. Before he could get too far into pleasuring himself, you offered him your hand. You placed it on his thigh, unsure of how far to go that would be considered too close. “I could help.”

“Really? No pressure or anything. I didn’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you, uh, see yourself doing.” He looked at the television again, and you thought that he might be right. If you felt differently about what you did last night after everything had already happened, you could leave. You could pretend that last night and the ensuing morning had never happened, and you could look at Wally the same as you always had–an unattainable crush. 

“Really.” You affirmed, completely sure of doing something that you would never forget. The confidence from last night returned, your hand gravitating to his lotioned skin. It had barely sunk in, and it was slick on your hand, emitting a wet cry and earning a moan from Wally. You would have thought the lotion became astringent, as Wally’s thighs tensed and his breathing hitched.

“Are you okay?” You asked, hand freezing all movement on his warmth, but never letting go of it.

“Yeah, I’m just used to my hand doing this part.” He became familiar with it quickly, though. Your hand made haste with the motions of jerking him off. Wally tried to level himself out by slumping further down on the couch, making himself more of a flat canvas for your designs. “But I could get used to this.”

There was one feeling he couldn’t get enough of, though. As your hand skimmed up and down his shaft, it occasionally slipped up over the head of his mushroom tip and teased the sensitive surface. Every time that your hand happened to find its way to his peaking pleasure, his hips jerked up and brought your hand down his shaft, like a drop tower that wasn’t quite ready to plummet into the needy feelings of release. Wally groaned, his head rolling back on the upholstered support backing the leather backrest. His flipped cap nearly got pulled off the top of his head, a sign that could’ve been looked at as him losing his mind over how good it all felt.

You looked over at the screen, seeing things take a sharp turn as you had your legs spread over Wally’s thighs. His legs stuck out, used to the kind of stretching he found himself doing on the field for football practice, and you sat squarely on his upper thighs. One hand stayed glued to his face and slid down to his neck as you explored five percent of the surface, and your other hand journeyed into the deep blue of his jeans. The same hand cupped his growing heat; you could remember the faintest feelings of it now. When he became too big, too rigid for your hand to mold and keep from slipping through your fingers, your hand emersed from his denim confines. The motion kept flowing, though, when your ass had found a way to push him down as he presumably pushed up, an action you felt ready to mimic. His rudimentary fleshlight wouldn’t have to leave him wanting more, and you were sure to make it known.

While he was no longer new in the box, the barrier between the two of you gone and discarded in the recycling, you felt comfortable choosing to come out of yours. “I think I want you to fuck me.” 

Just as you were about to step out of its confines, his words snaked around your wrists and tied you down to the box’s cardboard backing. Your motivation was restrained from where he drew the line. “Yeah, you might just want to use that sweet hand for now…” 

“Why?” 

“Uh, last night… we kind of did anal,” he groaned out. Suddenly, there was a cry from the TV that was unmistakably your voice, “I want you to fuck me!” Wally cleared his throat, “No, we definitely did.”

He stared down the television, entranced by its contents in a matter of seconds. The exact thing he said started to unfold. In the drunken misguidance, he had forgone lube to make the blur tinting his hindsight go a little bit faster. He carried the camera along his body until he held it in front of his face like he had when he first greeted you at the door. There was a slow, disorienting rise as he stood, showing just how tall he was. It was like the peak of the drop tower, when your stomach would twist into knots from knowing what was about to happen. You moved into frame, rubbing the bulge in his jeans as your hands rounded the waistband around to his backside, pulling his denim down.

From the view of its eye, it peered down at his torso wrapped in green knits, his cock quickly springing out and sharing the stage with your face right next to it. It was clear that your box had been perforated, and he was the cause of it.

“Oh, oh fuck. This is my favorite part–too bad my dick looks so fucking small. The TV just doesn’t do it justice, I mean come on! Look at how big it is!” 

He must have been referring to the lingering shot of his dick. The camera was still panned down from Wally’s perspective to show his cock at full fuckable potential. He got up and stood next to the image of his dick, comparing the two. Just the sight of the one on his TV made you nervous, but shifting your gaze slightly reminded you that he was painfully bigger than he looked on camera. Eight millimeters of a film reel was such a small space to capture such a big thing on screen, and his twenty-six-inch TV could only do so much to blow up the image.

The picture went dark, and black filled the screen. Wally covered the camera and gave you stage directions on the tape. “Get on the couch, all fours. No. Yeah, yeah–like that.”

You felt a warmth press into your side, Wally rejoining you on the couch again. He held his hands up in the air like he was guilty of a charge you weren’t pressing, “Sorry, not my best work, I know.”

His hand pulled away from the lens. The quality was hazy, indiscernible in some things that it captured as the kitchen light behind Wally blocked his face. But you’re on full display, arching into his touch. 

Wally tugged on his cock a few times before seizing all movement, “I could take you up on a handy–fuck, maybe a beej?”

“It might not feel as good as, you know.” You said, quickly averting your eyes from the television by fully shifting your body around and onto the floor. His legs were spread by habit but were now parted by necessity as you kneeled between them.

“A hole’s a hole, I won’t complain.” 

His gaze only rested on you for a second, to line himself up at the sweet spot. The point of entry, a familiar place for his dick–your body–but a new place to explore–your mouth. He made sure you were on track to take him all the way down without teeth or a gag reflex getting in the way. One trip down to the base of his cock and he was already looking away, continuing the motion with a more forceful pace to make up for what he was missing.

He looked head-on at the sex tape, seeing the view of the camera as he tried to evoke as much of the feelings from last night from its point of view. Wally imagined the wet, shlurking mouth in front of him was your hole, ready to give the same abuse he gave to your ass last night. Kind words echoed from the TV. He was talking you through the pain and happily giving you pleasure when you started bouncing on his cock. He planned to mimic it at the moment, spouting on about ‘how good you took him’ and praises alike.

Then, he saw himself slamming his hips into you on the screen, your ass smacking against his hips in a way that really demonstrated just how fast he was going. Coupling it with your cries to go ‘harder!’ as you took him, he did it from your past command. You couldn’t speak with a mouthful of him, but he treated it as something you wanted now. Wally shot up from the couch, standing and taking you with him. 

His eyes were trained on the screen, moaning as his hands took over from your control. In your peripheral vision, he had propped a leg up on the coffee table to fuck, not just guide you down his length. He would have done the same with his fleshlight and your hole–bending them over the table and fucking them senseless. Your mouth, and now as he reached it, your throat, were treated like those two. His hiked leg flexed and he jutted his hips forward, his pubes bristling your nose and his swinging balls plapping against your chin. Soon, as he plowed your mouth, the sound of him face-fucking you overtook the sex on the screen.

It wasn’t until the sound of you blowing a load of hot white over his chest as he did the same inside of you did he feel fully immersed in last night’s acts. He buried himself deep in your throat one final time and made you swallow what you could, taking a minute to register that he wasn’t fucking your ass.

His hands let go of your head and you pulled off, his come running down your chin and dripping onto him and the carpet. “Jesus, that was a lot…”

Wally handed you some tissues that he must have been expecting to use after watching this tape–since this wasn’t a film worth crying over–and patted the spot on the couch next to him. “How do you feel? Sorry if that was too rough.”

“You’re good, just throw in a warning next time?” You took a few tissues out of the box and cleaned up what you could. Wally filled his expected place on the couch, redressing himself quickly. He leaned towards the table he had just finished using as leverage to fuck your mouth with to get the remote. Silence filled the room as he paused the last few minutes of the tape.

“Deal,” he agreed. You took a seat in his lap this time after cleaning up, “So, is the ending gonna ruin the whole thing?”

“I, I wouldn’t recommend watching it.”

“Seriously? We basically watched the whole thing, let’s see it!” You took the remote from him, hitting the button shaped like a triangle to let it play.

Wally started speaking almost right after the sex on-camera was over, “How do you feel? Owned? Like a good boy–” 

Wally lifted the neck of his letterman, burying his face into it as he heard himself say those words. It was good to know he wasn’t happy about everything from last night, but you kind of liked hearing him say it. At least you had proof to get him to do it again.

You were quick to cut him off, though. “Like I’m gonna hurl.”

You swiped the remote from the table, pausing it just as you walked out of frame. “I left because I puked?” “Motion sickness. My fault, some people just can’t handle a long ride.”

#x male reader #x reader #gay #fanfiction #wally clark #wally clark x you #wally clark x reader #wally clark x male reader #wally clark x male!reader #fanfic #milo manheim x male reader #milo mannheim #milo manheim x reader #can milo manheim get some recognition puh lease #school spirits x male reader

[teamfortraven]

Vox enjoyers... I am yet again here with food...

This is an SFW tickle fic! If you don't like it, don't read!

Summary: the reader finds out something particularly sensitive about their boss, and he has to go to certain lengths to prevent the spread of this information. AKA reader bites off more than they can chew :]

Words: 3,010.

I gasped as a set of claws wrapped tightly around my wrist, jerking it away from the circuit board I had been messing with. I was quickly forced to turn around and nervously face the man who had caught me in the middle of my operation, his figure looming over me as he practically held me off the ground by my forearm.

“Oh! Boss! You’re back from the meeting, umm, early!”

“Yes. I am.” Vox’s voice was stern, eyes narrowed at me while the brightness from his screen practically blinded me.

“I was just about to wrap up maintenance on this section, but since you’re back now, I’ll go ahead and get out of your way-” After scrambling to defend myself and gently tugging my arm down an inch to ask permission to leave, he instead yanked it even more taught into the air so I was barely standing on the tops of my feet.

“Maintenance, you say? So that’s what you’re doing in this room you strictly don’t have permission to enter?” He tugged me a little closer, studying me with a scowl. Sarcasm was woven into every word he spoke, hiding the anger swelling underneath.

“W-Well, I certainly can’t fix it like you can”, I quickly added, wincing as I stuttered,” but I just didn’t want you to have to deal with it when you returned!”

I was lightly shoved against the wall, his claws gripping my shoulder even tighter as if to squeeze the answer out of me. “Don’t lie to me”, he said quietly. “What. Were. You. Doing?” I instinctively shut my eyes and managed to avoid an attempt to hypnotize me into telling the truth, turning my head to the side.

“Not to be rude, sir, but why ask me when it’s clear you could feel what I was doing?” It was a risky thing to say, but it was either this or die by trying to come up with an excuse. The flashing light that perforated my eyelids stopped, and I slowly opened them and focused on his screen.

His eyebrows had raised for a moment, staring at me as if he were taken aback, mouth slightly agape. Then his brows furrowed yet again, squinting at me as he quietly chuckled.

“What?”

“Well, as soon as I did this…” My hand darted to the open panel and I trailed a single fingernail down the inside of the circuit. I merely glanced at him and smiled when he flinched – no, jumped – at the sudden action. “...you seemingly teleported here in order to find out what was messing with your wiring.”

Nearly cutting me off, his hand shot to my wrist in fear of my realization, but I was faster, scratching at the other side of the circuitry in quick motions with one finger. He gasped and shook, his back arching and hands balling into fists before he fell on one knee, arms wrapping around himself protectively. I held back a laugh at his dramatic reaction, earning me a glare and gritted teeth.

“Don’t.” He said unsteadily. I decided it would be funnier if I didn’t heed his warning, so I shot him a smirk with lidded eyes before I began gently spidering my fingers over the face of the circuit.

I watched in glee as he shrieked and fell backwards, puffing before falling into giggles, his eyes squeezed shut. He was clearly struggling to maintain his composure, which I didn’t like. I figured I’d mess with him a bit.

“So, this tickles, huh?” He fought to bark back at me through the endless stream of giggles exiting his speakers.

“Fuck you… and fucking stahap!” His pause to supposedly gasp for air in between each phrase only had me smiling wider, increasing the pace for a moment and watching as he threw his head back and his voice raised in pitch.

“Don’t wanna admit it? That’s okay. I guess I can see why this would be embarrassing for you.” His legs kicked out at me stubbornly, claws nearly tearing at the sides of his suit. I took a step further away from his kicking out of caution; his frustration at not having control of the situation was kind of cute.

“Hey! Don’t try to kick me! That’s not very nice.” I positioned all of my fingers at the top of the circuit before slowly dragging down, causing him to squirm even more and grip the corners of his screen.

“As soon… as I gehehet you… you’re fuhucking DEAD!” He shouted.

“All the more reason to keep exploiting this little weakness of yours…” I made eye contact with him as I slowly opened the neighboring panel, revealing yet another circuit board. I saw fear flash across his digital complexion as I merely tapped the new circuit while my other hand continued gently spidering.

“DON’T!” He yelled, lunging at me and managing to grab my ankle before I began sporadically tickling both circuits at once as fast as I could. Vox immediately fell into uncontrollable laughter, letting go of me and twisting onto his back, attempting to cover his mouth despite not having one. Pixels formed tears at the corners of his eyes as they shut tight, kicking out aimlessly as he swore and gasped.

“YOUHOU FUHUHUCKING BITCH!” It was at this point that he started glitching, some of his words almost unintelligible.

“Aw, is the big, bad overlord extra sensitive right here?” I teased, relishing in the way his screen glowed just a little brighter at my comment. As I continued, the static and glitches he was experiencing became greater, almost to the point I worried it might be painful. Finally, I let up, watching as he lay limp on the ground in a ball, twitching and giggling on occasion as he recovered.

After a good couple seconds, he fell silent and lay still, screen shielded by his claws, breathing lax. He made no other movement. Concerned, I crouched down next to him — either something was wrong or he was pissed and about to fire me.  “Sir…?” I gingerly set a hand on his shoulder.

I heard him quietly mutter something and I leaned down to hear him better. “What?”

With a terrifyingly low chuckle, he moved one of his claws to reveal his right eye and the side of his mouth; two strings of red ran down to the bottom of his screen, and black rings emitted from his pupil. He said one word.

“Run.”

Suddenly filled with adrenaline, I fell backwards and scrambled, managing to turn myself around and start booking it, tripping a few times and catching myself with my hands, pushing myself off the floor for a small boost. As I was running, it occurred to me I didn’t know which way I wanted to go; I had no idea whether he was going to kill me or if he was turning this into a game. If I headed out of the observatory and he was just messing with me, I risked making both of us look unprofessional in front of his other employees or, god forbid, one of the other Vees who were on a surprise visit to see him. If he was trying to kill me…

I made a brash decision and burst through the observatory doors as I heard a maniacal laugh split the air behind me, followed by the sound of electricity zapping. Within seconds, he materialized in front of me, causing me to force my heels into the ground and come to a screeching halt. His arms were folded behind his back and he leaned down a bit intimidatingly, chuckling in amusement at the bewildered look on my face. He slowly began taking steps towards me, forcing me to back up past the observatory doors I had just so half-hazardly barreled through seconds ago. “Going somewhere?”

“Just following orders”, I replied in nervous excitement, watching as his grin only widened.

“Oh, but when I tell you you’re not to enter the observation room unless I specifically say”, he used his electrokinesis to close the small gap between us, grabbing my wrists in either hand, “suddenly you know better?” The observation room doors slammed behind us, once again shielding us from the outside hallway where anyone could walk by as he pushed me onto the floor and straddled me, effectively trapping me.

“Well…” I desperately tried to change the subject as his clawed fingers suddenly grasped either side of my waist, causing me to squeak. “You’re not the only one who’s confused. Why didn’t you use your electrokinesis to get away when I was-“

“How ticklish are you on a scale from one to ten?” He interrupted, eyes seeming to scan me before his pupils flickered back up to mine, obviously avoiding the question.

“Wh-what?” I was caught so off guard by the question that I stuttered, shrieking as he suddenly squeezed my waist, my hands flying to grasp his wrists.

He laughed at my reaction, eyes narrowing. “Ah, ten. You really just fucked yourself, you know that?”

“I’m not… that… I was just taken by surprise!” I stared wide-eyed as he suddenly sat up a bit, seeming to process what I said. Then he laughed again, eyes crinkling shut for a moment before looking down at me.

“You’re not… that? Not what?” His eyes widened in glee. “Holy shit, can you not even say the fucking word?!”

Red dusted my features as he continued laughing at me, finding the whole situation hilarious. “I can say it just fine!” I lied defiantly. “I said it earlier, didn’t I?!”

“Oh yeah, sure, you said it earlier when you weren’t so flustered. I think your brain turned to soup when I pointed that out, though…” He tapped his screen right below his eye, indicating that I was blushing. Of course, this only made it worse, and he snickered at my reaction. “So, if you can say the word ‘just fine’, do it now. Say tickle.” He crossed his arms and waited with a knowing look.

Of course, I could only manage to stutter, testing the first syllable of the word over and over, growing more and more embarrassed. His stupid smirk only grew as more time passed, eyebrow quirking. Finally, I gave up out of frustration at being proven wrong. “Fuck you!” I chided, watching as he threw his head back and laughed.

“See? You’re such an open book! I bet even this stupid shit would get you…” I froze as he suddenly hovered both hands in front of my face, wiggling his claws. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

I squeaked and put my face in my hands, a reflex more than a conscious decision. My face felt like it was on fire at this point — how long was this fucker gonna keep bullying me for?! Everytime he laughed it felt like I was about to explode, and I jumped as I felt his hands settle on my sides again.

“You’re way too fucking fun to mess with”, he mused. “I’m not even trying!” He suddenly applied an overlay to his voice as if he were broadcasting. “Breaking news: Voxtech employee blushes so hard their face explodes!”

As I went to protest, I instead found myself sputtering and squirming as he suddenly dug his claws into my sides, attempting to push him off of me, to which he only chuckled.

“Trying to escape already? You must be reaaally sensitive, huh? Really sensitive right here?” Claw after claw dug into the area on either side, and he rapid-fire squeezed for emphasis, causing me to make a series of noises not unlike a pug, twisting and turning underneath him.

“V-Vox, wait, nohoho!” I trailed off into helpless giggles as he spidered his claws on either side of my waist, squirming around underneath him as his face lit up with delight.

“Aww, is it too much? Does it tickle that bad?” His teasing made me attempt to hide my face again, eyes squeezed shut as I attempted to muffle my giggling. I failed to keep myself quiet as he suddenly moved his hands to just beneath my ribs, causing me to shriek and grab his hands. His eyes widened in recognition, chuckling evilly.

“Oh! You’re just making this too fucking easy for me! Could you be any more obvious?!” I fell into laughter as he continued digging into the area even faster if anything, causing me to basically short-circuit as pleas began involuntarily leaving me.

“W-WAIHAIT BOSS PLEAHEASE!” I whined, unsuccessful in my attempts to cover the area, the tips of his claws managing to break through.

“Oh, what, are you just too sensitive? Can’t handle it? Is this your worst spot? Is there a worse one…?” He trailed off with lidded eyes as they started wandering before returning to my own. “How about… here?”

I nearly screeched as he dragged his claws across my stomach, hurriedly attempting to sit up. He acted quickly, pinning my legs with his own and laughing at my urgent reaction as he continued spidering across my stomach, having me hiding my face again as he briefly displayed a casino slot machine on his screen that lit up in a jackpot.

“You know, how are you still alive being this fucking ticklish? I mean, I could just tickle you to death if I wanted to. And that’s saying something given I haven’t even…” I fell into desperate hysterics as a small jolt of static electricity left his claws, creating an overwhelming tingling feeling.

“VOHOX NAHAHA!-“

“Vox, what? Vox, please keep going? Vox, I love when you tickle me? If you want me to stop, you better switch back to calling me ‘boss’ again… and start apologizing for that little stunt you pulled earlier.” My struggling only intensified as he suddenly shoved his fingers under my arms, unable to pry his claws away. “Orrr you could just keep trying to fight back. That meeting was my last one until tomorrow, so I can do this all day…”

I tried to fire back at him about earlier, but all I could do was laugh, so instead my hands moved from his wrists to the sides of his ribs, desperately spidering. He physically convulsed, gasping before giggling a bit, immediately removing his claws from me to grab my wrists. Once he had torn them away from his body, he glared down at me, clearly a bit flustered as I managed a shit-eating smirk.

“Oh, you think you’re so fucking funny, huh? You think you can get away with something like that again?” I felt my face light up as I realized how strong his grip was, my proud moment short-lived as he put both wrists into one hand and pinned them above my head. “Hoho no, you’re gonna fucking pay for that…”

I quietly gasped as the tip of every claw on his free hand pressed straight onto my ribs, unmoving. A wicked grin split across his screen, studying my reaction with playfulness that was borderline malicious. “Really? Really? You targeted me somewhere that you can’t handle yourself?” I could only wiggle around as he started tickling, showing no mercy.

“HA! You have no idea how ridiculous you look right now. Can’t do anything, huh? Just gonna twist left and right like you’re actually able to get away?” I couldn’t respond to him if I wanted to, as I had immediately fallen into hysterics, trying everything in my power to get a quip in with all the talking he was doing… If I knew anything about Vox, it was that when his pride was hurt, he felt the need to explain himself to heaven and back. Once he had monologued for a bit, he let up slightly – just enough that I could form words again.

“Okay OKAY BOSS I’M SOHOHORRY!” He rolled his eyes with a smirk, voice lowering from the practical shout he had been using this entire time.

“Want me to stop? I don’t know~ there’s plenty of other spots I haven’t explored yet…” I fell into uncontrollable giggles as he gently spidered across the sides of my neck, blushing furiously. “Oh, really sensitive here, huh? I wonder if I tease you some more if your face will get even redder than it already is…” It did, in fact, get redder after he said that.

“BOSS PLEAHEAHEASE! TOO MUHUCH!” Tears were forming at the corners of my eyes as I desperately turned my head this way and that, his claws jumping to the other side as I attempted to defend myself.

Finally, he sighed, sitting back and letting my wrists go. He stayed on top of me, however, watching with his arms crossed as I regained my breath, hiding my face as it began returning to its normal color.

“Cute.” My eyes shot to his, unsure if I heard him right. I didn’t have time to ask him, however, as he quickly stood up and grabbed my hand, pulling me up next to him.

“Well, that was… fun. And just as a reminder…” He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to his side.

“If you ever tell anyone about your little… discovery…” He poked me in the ribs as emphasis before whispering right into my ear. “I’m going to wreck you so badly that the mere sight of these claws”, he wiggled them in front of my face threateningly, “will have you blushing so hard that you faint.” We stood still like that for a moment, as if he wanted to make sure I processed what he said, before he suddenly let go of me.

“Alright, get out of here, and if anyone asks, you were laughing because I’m just that fucking hilarious, got it?”

“Y-yes, sir”, I nervously agreed before he shot one last smile at me and turned, walking to his console. I left the observatory still a flustered mess, fiddling with my hands as I questioned if any of that even happened. I knew one thing for certain: the very next day I was doing that again.

#tickles #sfw tickling community #hazbin hotel vox #we're not gonna talk about how red my face got while writing this #he would absolutely DESTROY with teases though #god help me

[lastoneout]

Okay, honest question, who is Yotsuba?

OH HO HO ANON I AM ALL TOO HAPPY TO EXPLAIN :3

Yotsuba is a character from the greatest manga ever made, Yotsuba&!(or Yotsuba to! it translates weird, most fans just call it Yotsuba) which is a comedy slice-of-life manga about Yotsuba Koiwai, a five year old girl, and her very strange yet wholesome family and friends!

It's from the same mangaka who gave us Azumanga Daioh, though while that manga is told in a four-panel comic style and doesn't really have much of an overarching plot, Youtsuba is done in a traditional manga style and despite also being very episodic there is a bit of a throughline surrounding Youtsuba getting settled into the neighborhood she just moved to, growing up, and eventually, in the later chapters, getting ready to go to school for the first time. Also, there are storylines that take place over multiple chapters as well! Despite the fact that the manga has been releasing since 2003, the chapters are pretty sporadic and the comic has only really covered about one year of the character's lives, but it never really feels slow or aimless. It feels almost...timeless? I guess. It's really nice.

Anyway, the manga is legit one of the most wholesome, funny, heartwarming things I have ever read. Kiyohiko Azuma is a fucking MASTER of comedy(you may have seen screencaps from a Sailor Moon fan comic he made going around on tumblr in which Jupiter accidentally sends Venus shooting across a pool that made me laugh so hard I cried) and he balances it well with lots of slow moments with GORGEOUS artwork where you can really take in the scenery and all of it is seeped in a wonderful nostalgia for childhood that legit makes me super emotional.

I don't think the manga has ever really taken off in terms of popularity, at least not to the degree that it deserves imo, which is likely in part due to the creator being firm about it never getting an anime adaptation and the sporadic release schedule, but it's far from unknown. There's been an official(I think??) score released and plenty of figurines and merch. It's also birthed a lot of memes, and it def has the same issue as One Piece where if you read it and love it you will turn into a walking billboard and try to drag your friends and family in with you. It's just THAT good!

You may have seen art of or people cosplaying Danbo, a "robot" made of old cardboard boxes that Yotsuba adores (Totally a real robot btw, def doesn't have a middle schooler shoved inside there, that would be silly wdym /s)

And this pose from the back of one of the manga volumes featuring Yotsuba, her father, and their extremely tall friend Jumbo has been redrawn with other characters like 500000 billion times

And you've also probably seen this going around tumblr before (that's Fūka she's my favorite cringe fail daughter I would literally die for her).

Also, I would be doing a disservice if I didn't mention Yanda, who is a friend of Yotsuba's dad and also Yotsuba's nemesis. He's a loser who constantly gets dunked on by a toddler it's fucking hilarious.

But yeah it really is just like, a manga that feels like a hug, or a warm blanket or something, it's so comforting and funny and fantastic, I find myself re-reading it any time life gets to be too hard just bcs it's that good at distracting me and reminding me that live is worth living.

And also given that it's literally my favorite manga, I saved up a bunch of screencaps to use as reaction images after a read one time, and thus now it's my own little joke that if you send me anon hate I'm just gonna send you back a picture of this cutie

Bcs come on how can you be angry when you're looking at this???

Anyway here's some screencaps of the main supporting cast bcs I love all of them so much <3

YOU WILL READ YOTSUBA I AM NO LONGER ASKING

#Ask #Anonymous #long post #sorry anon you hit the yotsuba button #I am legally obligated to gush about it #yotsuba #yotsuba&!

[prolix-yuy]

Beautiful Release

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an agreement. Simple, clean, easy. But not this time.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, IT'S PEGGING DIN TIME! Anal sex (m receiving), rough sex, sex toys, fingering (m receiving), handjob, frottage, blowjob, swallowing, cumshot, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), mild dubcon (Reader isn't aware of Din's mental state and stops the session to re-negotiate boundaries), painful sex, sex as self-flagellation, hurt/comfort.

Notes: Welcome to my addition to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Event 2024! This idea had been bumping around in my brain and this gave me the perfect excuse to write it. Thanks @wannab-urs for organizing this event, making the gorgeous banners, and giving me a chance to live my fantasies after S3 gave us the most delicious kneeling restrained Din image. I will never forget it, it's burned into my brain forever.

Set after S2 and before The Book of Boba Fett.

Cross-posted on AO3

He’s come to you before, but never like this.

Din always treats your encounters like serendipity, but from the first time you’ve known how far from the truth that is. He finds ways to drift into your path, tilting his helmet like he never expected you to be at this spaceport, which you prefer for its discretion, or in this cantina, which serves a hell of a barium fizz. The niceties always devolve into the silent request, which you never fail to fulfill.

But now, there’s a holomessage blinking on your control panel.

Send me your coordinates. Usual encoding.

It’s brisk, cold, mostly to protect you both, but even then something’s off. He’s never admitted to seeking you out. Something stirs deep in your stomach, consulting the encoding slug he gave you ages ago in case you ever needed him. Funny, the first time you’d use it would be because you think he needs you.

Your winding relationship with Din Djarin began at the business end of a blaster, but you can’t fault him for that. The ship you were flying then had all the hallmarks of a slaver vessel, but when he found your crew of rebel sympathizers he lowered his weapon. One escort and a few short-lived conversations later, and you’d forged a razor-thin alliance. 

Your paths wound their way across and through each other for over a year, and in that time Din warmed to you. He gave you his name, his allegiances, his contacts if needed. In return you forged documents and built jammers for his ramshackle ship. Mutually beneficial, and after a time pleasantly warm. His laugh always surprised you, a low chuckle when you turned a phrase just right on him. 

And the kid! The curious little gremlin that had been accompanying him more in recent times did help to smooth the rough spots. Grogu’s presence always brightened your days, brief moments of pure joy from his tireless antics. Din seemed to be ever the exasperated protector, but when he tucked Grogu into his arm his aura glowed. 

However, the times when Din “stumbled” upon you with seemingly no purpose had little to do with play dates or trades. Well, maybe only in the most euphemistic sense.

It was on a cargo run - cargo being more frightened people fleeing under the guise of your fake shipping business - that Din first encountered what would bring him back to you time and time again. There was a man among the stowaways who took an interest in you, the feeling mutual. He wound his way around like a lothcat in heat, and when you whispered how you might be able to pass the time he enthusiastically agreed. 

You weren’t much of an exhibitionist, but the ship wasn’t meant for privacy. So when Din happened upon you bending the man over a cargo crate, your strap slickly splitting him open as he moaned behind your clamped hand, you did feel some mild embarrassment. You weren’t sure how long he watched you thrust into the other man, but the little cough that alerted you to his presence made you turn and take him in.

He was clearly affected, hand gripping his belt as the other clenched by his side. Fascinating. The Mandalorian had surprises in store. 

The man garbled about sucking Din’s cock, letting the Mando cum on his face while you pounded his tight hole, but you stuck your fingers in his mouth and picked up your rhythm again. You’d met other Mandalorians in your travels, but Din’s particular religion was much stricter than most. He might take hefty offense if you assumed any of the armor could come off. Instead you let him watch without comment as your companion came all over the side of the cargo crate, soothing him through the aftershocks. As you cleaned him up you noticed your audience fled, and you determined never to speak of this. 

It would take two months for Din to come to you. 

“People like this?” he asked when you showed him your strap and assortment of attachments. You shrugged, picking out the one you secretly thought he’d enjoy.

“Some do, some don’t. It’s just one of many things I like,” you said, leaning against your bedroom wall as he filled the small space with restless energy. “I’m sure you like plenty of things too.”

There it was. The little roll of the shoulders and flex of a hand that told you Din wasn’t as inexperienced as some would believe. 

“Never tried something like this,” he mumbled, and you smiled under the knowledge that he was nervous. Din Djarin, feared throughout the galaxy, and dearer friend than you ever expected, had something he wanted and didn't know how to ask for.

“Would you like to try it?” you said, taking the last barrier away. He tilted the helmet down, fingers restless on his hip. 

“Yes.”

That first night you didn’t fuck him, though by the end he was so close to begging you almost came from the sound. Instead you opened him up with your fingers, got him used to the feeling of fullness and how to connect it to pleasure, while he laid on your bed and gripped the sheets so hard you thought he’d rip them. His pants bunched across his thighs, you got to admire the cords of muscle rippling as you made him shake and choke. His cock, velvety and weeping on his stomach, made your mouth water, but you only offered to suck it when he was just on the precipice. Your hot mouth wrapping around his head, two clever fingers stroking his prostate, tipped him over into bliss as he shouted his completion. Pride swelled in your chest at his belabored breath, chestplate heaving and thighs quivering on either side of your head. 

When you returned from cleaning up he was already dressed again, despite your protests to wait and let you ease him down from this new experience. He thanked you, awkwardly, and left quickly. Lying in the same bed that night, still smelling of him, you reasoned with yourself. He probably had a lot of feelings to sort out, both around his pleasure and the fact that you gave it to him. You hoped he trusted you enough to know you’d be discreet. And, as your fingers slid into your underwear, you hoped he’d seek you out again.

It was only a week before you were at the same spaceport again, his heavy boots clanking up your ramp. You tried to hide your own nerves, but when Din stood before you and let the visor drag up and down your body, a delicious grin crept onto your face.

“Ready to try more?”

Indeed he was.

He enters your ship without preamble, a brief flit of concern clouding your features at how quickly he disarmed your security measures. You weren’t expecting him for another hour. He must have jumped to get to you. 

It’s thrilling, to know the Mandalorian’s need is so great. 

But when he enters and closes the door behind him, the energy is…off. Not seductive, teasing, edged like the other times. No, he’s holding his body so tight and so still. There’s nothing aggressive in it, but you glimpse why his enemies fear him. Without a face, and with so much obscuring the flesh beneath, you’re not sure when he’ll strike. 

He catches you rummaging through your drawer, the strap in your hand. Assessing, you give him a gentler smile than usual, hands visible, softening your stance.

“Hello, Din.”

He nods, quickly, unbuckling his belt and yanking his cape free. Both fall to the floor carelessly. You press on.

“How about you tell me what you want?” you say, watching him carefully as he opens his pants plaquet. The mouthwatering strip of skin you covet peeks from beneath his top.

“Just need…need this,” he says, and while naturally a man of few words you’d taught him to be more vocal in this respect. 

“Okay, Din. How about you kneel on the bed and we start there?” Your voice lowers into a soothing register, reaching for his arm. 

“No,” he almost shouts, startling your hand back. He recovers. “No, I want…” You can practically hear him licking his lips on a sigh, slowing himself down. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Brows raised, you nod. He’s never ridden you before, always preferring to let you take him from behind or on his back. Pulling the strap-on over your leggings, you settle against the headboard and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, kneeling on the bed briefly in contemplation before swinging over your lap. Shucking his pants half down his legs, you can’t resist a giggle.

“Might be better to take them off,” you tease, letting your hands lay featherlight on his hips. A huff crackles through the vocoder but he doesn’t move to disrobe further. 

“I’ll open you up a bit first,” you say, one hand reaching for lube while the other snakes its way to his hole. You encounter surprising slickness, but he’s nowhere as warmed up as you get him.

“S’okay, I took care of it,” he mumbles, both hands coming up to grip the headboard above your head. Slicking lube on the dildo, you move to finger him enough to ease your way in.

“Just a little more…”

“I’m fine.”

The curt retort snaps your face to the helmet, now more of a cowled chin and shining halo of beskar above your head. There’s something bubbling uncomfortably under the surface, something you feel the need to drag out by the scruff of the neck, but it’s Din. You never talk feelings with Din. Frankly, you barely talk at all during, or after, any of your nights together.

“Sorry,” he breathes, forcing relaxation. “I’m ready. Please.”

Your eyes linger for a moment longer, then you circle the base of your cock in waiting.

He descends slowly, gritted breaths and sharp blasts of air from his nose echoing above you. You watch the strain in his thighs as he sinks and sinks, his cock only half-hard against his stomach. Leaving a hand on one hip, you stroke soothing paths up and down his lower back, watching for discomfort. Instead he’s marble around you, coiled, body not releasing as usual. Normally when you fuck him he dissolves, rolling his hips back onto you and choking out praises of how good you feel.

None of that comes. He meets the base of your cock and immediately slides back up at an almost punishing pace. He can’t be that acclimated yet, and his pained hisses and grunts only make that more apparent. 

“Din, slow down,” you request, hands firmer on his hips to try and even his pace. If he heard you he says nothing, now slamming his hips down on your cock. “Din,” you beseech again, nails starting to dig in. His grunts grow to growls, something from the heat of battle, your headboard creaking from his crushing grip. 

Clarity overtakes you, the shudder of his stomach and forceful downstrokes only getting more intense. There wasn’t pleasure in this. Something is eating up Din inside and he’s trying to fuck it out of himself. And he’s using you to do that.

“Din Djarin, STOP.”

The echo of your voice, strong and steely, finally brings Din to a stop with your cock buried deep in his ass. His chest heaves in front of you, limbs quivering from the exertion, but he’s as still as he can be. Gripping his chestplate, you push him back enough to look him in the visor, your anger righteously reflected back.

“You don’t punish yourself with my cock,” you order, teeth clenched and seething. “Do you think so little of me, that I’d just let you rip yourself to shreds without a word?” 

Din freezes, but this time you know it’s shame. If you were in a clearer headspace you might have tried reassurance, or asked him to lay beside you and talk about what’s destroying him, but you’re just too upset. 

“Is that all you come to me for?” you spit out, knuckles aching from gripping his armor. He’s silent for long enough that you consider throwing him out before he speaks.

“Something happened. And I just want to…be empty. To not think about it every moment.” He leans forward and your visage warps as he presses his forehead to the crown of your head. The anger thrums but starts to ebb as he folds around you. “I didn’t know where else to go. You’ve always taken care of me. More than I deserve.”

The sadness in his voice is palpable, and even with your mouth still sour from his deception you find the compassion to wrap your arms around his middle. The chestplate presses into your cheek, a metronome for Din’s slowing breaths. 

“If you have any care in your heart for me, don’t ever do that again,” you grit out. Din’s breath catches. 

“I care for you,” he says, and a door in your heart you never realized was cracked widens for Din’s admission. 

“I care for you too, you karking asshole, which is why I want you to say something instead of trying to hate fuck your feelings out.”

Din’s chest begins to shake again, but you’re sure it’s laughter this time. You manage a giggle of your own, letting him lean back and look at you again. The motion shifts your cock in him, and his sharp sigh arches your brow.

“If you wanted to forget, you could have just told me,” you say, rolling your hips sensuously up into his clenching hole. Din’s head drops back, grip tightening on the headboard again as you grind into him.

“Please,” he begs, so soft and vulnerable you can’t help but give him what he needs. 

Slowly you press up into him, guiding his hips to rock on your cock. You love the feel of his ass in your hands, well muscled and perfect for grabbing, manhandling him just enough to show he can let go. He follows your direction reluctantly at first, but as you plant your feet and start thrusting with more range he loosens. You can feel it in his arms, holding on to the headboard for dear life, and the building rhythm of his hips meeting yours. For a man whose life is violence, you never want to bring that into your sessions. But a light swat on one asscheek pulls the most delicious moan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, bearing down on you even more. Tilting your hips, you arch his back enough that you’re sure to hit his prostate on the next thrust. 

“Maker!”

There it is.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. Waiting a moment, you zero in on that perfect spot inside him and hit it with every one of your thrusts. “Do you feel that? Feel how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, fuck,” Din curses, one hand flitting down to squeeze the base of his cock. He’s at full attention now, head bobbing against your stomach. You swell with pride that he’s having to stave off his orgasm so quickly, but you’ll be the one to make those decisions now. 

“All I want you to think about is how good you feel,” you purr, tugging his hand away and replacing it with your own. You long for his skin against yours, so you pull up your shirt to skim the head of his cock against your soft belly. He chokes, stuttering away but he’s trapped between your hand and thighs.

“Wait, Maker, I’ll cum if you…” he garbles, but his body keeps meeting your grinds. You shush him gently, stroking from base to tip and smearing precum over the head. 

“You will, but only when I let you. You know I’ll make it good for you, make nothing but this pleasure you’re feeling fill that head of yours.” His rapid nod almost knocks you in the head with the beskar, but he manages to tuck into your neck instead. The helmet is a shocking cool against your skin, but the act of burrowing into you must be rewarded. Bringing your arms around him, you press along the length of his body, trapping his cock between.

“I’m gonna pound into this tight ass until you cum all over us. You like that?” The wail Din lets out shoots heat to your cunt, wishing more than anything that you’d opted for a toy that gave you a little stimulation too. Instead you hammer fast and hard, barely pulling out. Your hips and thighs burn with exertion at his bulk on top of you, but he’s frantically bouncing back and rutting his cock into the wet mess your bodies make. 

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if it’s the vocoder but you think his voice sounds watery. “Please, cyar’ika, don’t stop.”

Cupping the back of his neck, damp with sweat, you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

With a handful of final pumps you’re coated in his cum, sliding around your belly as he seizes over and over. Pressing deep, you hold strong against his shuddering body as he finishes. Each weakening thrust draws him down on you, heavier and loose-limbed. 

The armor makes it hard to find the soft spots, so you take to kneading the back of his neck and palming his spine. Before his last aftershock, you urge him higher on his knees so you can slip your cock out - slowly, so as not to shock his jellying body. Easing him down, you hold his head in the crook of your neck and settle him on your lap. His hands slide down from the headboard to your shoulders. 

Then you hear it. A tiny sniff, then another. You can’t pretend you didn’t notice them so close to your ear. So you gather the broad man in your arms and hold him. His hands don’t know where to rest, finally winding loosely around your lower back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you tell him again, and the sniffing starts to recede. His body, however, slumps against yours, and it takes all of your strength not to start giggling.

You fucked the Mandalorian right to sleep. Bravo to you.

When Din finally stirs, a deep rumble in his throat, it’s been almost an hour. Your toes are half numb and you’re dying to shift into any other position, but much like a lothcat falling asleep on your lap, you couldn’t bear to move Din. Especially when he started snoring, one of the most endearing and hilarious sounds you’d ever heard him make. 

In the time he slept you wondered what happened. What terrible thing hollowed him out and haunts him. Something keeps him up at night, if the depth of his sleep is any indication. Recent, possibly. Traumatic.

Your breath caught in your throat. If something happened to Grogu you know he would have told you. You ask after him all the time, teasing that you’ll be his Auntie (Din always says he has plenty of them across the galaxy). 

Had you seen the Razor Crest fly up? Where was that old bird anyway?

What happened in the time since Din last saw you?

The cycle of possibilities always ends the same. Maybe he cares for you in some way, but not enough for you to ask. No matter how much you want to.

A shift on your lap alerts you to Din waking, kneading his shoulders and neck lightly to alert him to your presence. He’s never slept with you before, but it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he’s quick to draw at unexpected circumstances. Of which this one definitely is.

“What…” Din croaks, and if not for the helmet you would have offered him water. 

“It’s okay, you’re on my ship. You’re okay.” 

It takes Din another minute to realize what’s happened. Him, half naked on your lap with your strap pressing against his ass. You, covered in drying cum beneath him. In a flash he’s swinging his leg off your lap, attempting to stand but obviously they’ve gone as numb as yours because he stumbles and crashes out of sight. 

“Oh kriff, are you…?” you start to ask, but as quick as he’s out of sight he pops back up again, tugging up his pants and tucking himself away.

“Sorry, that was…I didn’t mean to…do that.” 

All of the heaviness and anger and lust fizzles away to laughter as you try to suppress the ridiculousness of the moment. After a moment of indigent head tilting Din’s shoulder also shake, chuckles fuzzing out of the vocoder. 

“Oh Maker, what an understatement that is,” you sigh, wiping your stomach with the edge of your bedsheets. Din visibly cringes, hands on his hips.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, but you wave it off.

“I’ve had much worse, believe me,” you shoot back. Clean enough, you sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the inscrutable man. 

“Want to talk about it?”

Din’s stance shifts, helmet tipping down for a moment before coming back to your face.

“...Not yet.”

You hum and nod. “Well, you know how to find me if you do.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

As he picks up his effects you shimmy off the harness at the foot of the bed, mentally ticking through the steps to clean everything. Din watches you set it down, stilling until your eyes come back to him.

“It gives you pleasure as well?” he asks, which raises one of your eyebrows.

“I mean, about as much as rhythmically hitting your hips against someone can do.” His posture changes into something hard to decipher, so you continue. “I’ve got a few that do more for me, but it depends on the person I’m with. Comfort, boundaries. As you’re well aware.” You gesture to the armor, his chin tucking down to look at it.

“So you’ve never cum with me?” he asks, and a sudden feverish heat blooms under your skin. Din has a sex appeal you appreciate, but have never acted on beyond what he’s asked for. Now, something’s changed so dizzyingly fast you’re scrambling.

“Well, you’re pretty spent after our sessions. And you leave quickly. I don’t ask for more than you can give.”

Din takes a step towards you, putting his belt and cloak back down.

“What do you ask of other people you fuck?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. How can he turn the tables so quickly and spectacularly? Trying to gain the upper hand, you pull a confident face on and speak as breezily as possible.

“Most can’t get it up twice after I fuck them within an inch of their life, so fingers, tongues, toys, any and all of the above are excellent ways to repay the favor.”

He’s even closer now, and the facade is barely holding up. It’s like the vulnerability he showed you can’t possibly be returned.

“You’ve never asked me,” he says, and you can’t believe there’s a note of regret in his voice. The bed hits the back of your legs, and you steady your voice even though those words make your pussy throb.

“I didn’t think it was allowed.” Your voice drops low as Din steps into your space. 

“Difficult, but not forbidden.” Din’s hands come to your shoulders. “Sit down, please.”

Your knees fold so fast you bounce on the bed, looking up at him. He joins you on one knee, hands coming to rest on your thighs.

“I broke my Creed. I would do it again, for the exact same reason, but now that makes me an apostate.” His hands come to the helmet, thumbs tucking underneath the lip.

“Din, what happened?”

He pauses, and you swear you can feel his gaze through that smoky visor. 

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness surrounds you, then a hiss and a thunk. 

Then the voice of a man you care for, unfiltered and bare.

“I’m not ready for anyone to see my face. But I want this, with you. If you can forgive me.”

You could be dreaming still. It would make just as much sense.

“I forgive you, Din. But just this once,” you sneak in at the end just to hear how melodic his laugh sounds. Then his hand splays over your stomach and urges you to lie back.

“I hope you don’t mind teaching me this. I don’t have much experience,” he says, fire licking through your body as he tugs your leggings and underwear off.

“Don’t worry, you’re a quick learner,” you say breathily.

And when he finally kisses you, sweet with your musk on his tongue and your orgasm dripping from his fingers, you teach him how to do that as well.

END

"I need some distraction Oh a beautiful release Memories seep from my veins Let me be empty Oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

Sarah McLachlan, Angel (yeah I know I used the sad dog song)

#PMAMC 2024 #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #prolix fics

[whosyuno]

hotel paradise (m) | ft. jung jaehyun

summary you visit an exclusive brothel to satisfy your needs. cw smut, praise, humiliation, toy play, light choking, squirting word count 3.1k a/n i'm thinking of turning this into a smut series featuring different members of nct hehe! chap two three

It’s only when you’ve spent half the night burrowing your vibrator between your thighs and it decided to die right before you’ve reached your climax, that you decided to take up your colleague’s suggestion. 

Fresh out of a break-up, you had moved to Seoul a few months back. The money here was better anyways and you wanted to forget all about your ex. All your highschool friends that had moved to Seoul always talked about how Seoul was the It-Place. Where the people were wild and parties were wilder. You thought you were finally going to find people that brought the much needed excitement and thrill you desired, particularly in your bedroom. Your ex-boyfriend, although your highschool sweetheart, wasn’t the best in bed and most of his attempts had left you feeling unsatisfied and yearning for more… fun.

Of course, nothing ever turned out the way you wanted and, now, six months into your stay in Seoul, you’ve never had anyone approach you, much less touch you. But when one of your colleagues-turned-friends caught wind of your little situation, she had casually introduced you to “just the place to get your needs sorted”. 

So that’s how, at 2:38AM on a Saturday, you found yourself standing before an unassuming building, its exterior the same dark maroon bricks as the surrounding buildings with a panel of frosted glass doors facing you. The light from within shone into the street, illuminating the empty night, if not for the lingering drunkards from the parties before. 

You glanced down at your phone, at an invitation message, as you took a moment to steel your resolve. You tried to push out the thoughts of doubt out of your head. In any case, if Hotel Paradise was exclusive enough to require an invitation by an existing member, then that must be a green flag, right?

You were immediately greeted by a bleach-blond haired lady when you walked through the doors. She looked neat and tidy, which calmed your anxieties about this being a sketchy brothel just a little. 

“Welcome to Hotel Paradise, I’m Taeyeon, what can I do for you?” she said, with a perfected customer service smile. 

You showed her your invitation message, and she made quick work in creating a membership for you in the system. 

“Any requests for tonight?” she asked and gestured towards the plaques in front of you.

Your cheeks were quick to turn pink at her direct question. You glanced over at the plaques on the surface of the reception desk. Laminated behind plastic, they detailed a list of 20 boys, with photos and a short list of their strengths. Amidst your fluster, you quickly pointed at the first one that caught your attention. Jung Jaehyun, Toy Play, Praise and Humiliation. 

“Okay,” she said as her freshly manicured fingers ran across her keyboard, “looks like he’s free currently. Is there anything else you’d like?”

You shook your head, mortified to share any more of your kinks with a stranger - kinks that you didn’t even share with your ex. 

It took a moment before Taeyeon motioned you to go up the spiral stairs behind the counter. Second room to your left, she mentioned. You swallowed your saliva, before walking into the room. 

The room was quite spacious, with egg-white paint coating the walls, a neatly made king-sized bed in the middle and a decent bathroom attached. If it wasn't for the row of sex toys placed on the table at the foot of the bed, you could have fooled anyone into thinking it was a room in any respectable hotel. 

“My, my, what a lovely guest,” the man in the middle of the room came to greet you. 

Immediately, you were captivated by his looks. You had picked him, for the most part, due to his photo. But looking at him in person was a whole other experience. His fluffy brown hair was carelessly tossed backwards with a few stray strands perfectly framing his face. His almond-shaped eyes were pressed into crescents and only god knew how hard you’d fall for his dazzling smile.

His hands reached over and removed the little shoulder bag that you had brought with you. And in a smooth motion, his arm slipped around your waist as he guided you to sit on the bed.  It was only now, sitting in front of Jaehyun, that you’d wished you had spent just a little more time in choosing a more appropriate outfit. In a rush to satisfy your needs and to save on laundry efforts, you had put on your office wear - a neat powder blue blouse tucked into wide legged black trousers - the same one that had worn to the office on Friday.

“Busy day, huh?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your jawline. 

You nodded; your cheeks flushed against his warm touch. Your attention was entirely drawn in by him and his effortless charm.

“I’ll reward you for working hard,” he said before gently kissing you. 

His lips, soft and plump, pressed against yours softly, as if testing out the waters. Once, then twice. And another. When your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer, his tongue skillfully parted your lips and darted into your mouth. He tasted like cool mint, and you caught a whiff of his sandalwood cologne. The intensity and fervour of the kiss only increased with each passing moment. Lust ignited a flame within you that spread across your body. 

He used his body weight and pushed you down on the bed, with one knee between your legs to balance. His hand wandered around your body, caressing your breast, your waist and your butt before his fingers made quick work of your pants’ button and zipper. He slid the trousers off and, with a little kick from you, threw the pants across the room. 

His lips then left yours for a moment, and it drew out a whine that you had never heard yourself make. It pleased him to hear your voice. You watched as a simple make out transformed the sweet and charming man into a lustful one. His once inviting smile morphed into a thirsty smirk, his lips were swollen, and his eyes burned with desire. 

He left the bed for a moment, picking up your trousers and a small vibrator from the table before returning to you. He used the trousers as a makeshift rope to tie both your wrists to the bedpost and before dropping down between your legs.

“You look so pretty from down here,” he said as he placed the small vibrator against your clothed clit. 

He moved it up and down, along your slit, taking in your moans of pleasure. He watched your every effort to push yourself closer to climax: how you’d buck your hips when the vibe hitted the right spot, how your moans got louder and less restrained and how your hands struggled against the bedpost. 

“Please, please, please,” you cried out, “please let me cum- oh my god, I’m so close.” 

Everything you did only pleased him further. 

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” He slid the vibrator away from your clit, “Already cumming for a stranger you’ve barely met?” 

Your hips bucked and adjusted, hoping to feel the vibrator again, “Please, please.” 

You whined and moaned but all he did was watch. His control was immaculate, he’d place the vibrator against your clit and just as you were about to cum, he’d take it off. Then he did it again. And again. 

“Say it,” he said, “Let me hear it. What are you?” 

A blush of mortification coloured your cheeks, no one had ever called you a slut.

“I’m…” You struggled to get the words out. 

Jaehyun punished your hesitation by pushing the vibrator against your clit again. 

You whined and were reminded of the reward at the end of the sentence, “I’m a slut. I’m a slut just for you.” 

Pleased with your words and your desperation, Jaehyun finally let you cum, “That’s right, cum for me, slut. You’re such a good slut for me.”

He watched as the ecstasy ebbed through your body, your hips bucking high before crashing down against the bed, your fingers digging into your palms and your lips carelessly spewing out ‘thank you’s and ‘oh my god’s. 

“That felt good, right?” 

You nodded, albeit a little tired from that singular orgasm. It’s not an exaggeration to say that no one had made you feel the way his touch did. Forcing you to brand yourself as a slut sparked a new thrill for yourself. Everything he did only drew you into his lust-driven heaven. 

He let you rest for a brief moment, as he swapped out the small vibrator for a vibrating dildo this time. 

Watching Jaehyun put the dildo in his hands, you perked up with more energy. 

By now, your cotton panties had been drenched in your juices. So, Jaehyun slipped them off to reveal your pussy. It’s been awhile since you’ve shaved, it wasn’t like you had anyone to show them to. This was an impromptu decision you had made. You immediately shut your legs up together, hiding them in embarrassment.

Jaehyun responded by softly prying your legs open, “no need for shyness now, kitten.” 

His words were charming and comforting, which gave you just that little boost of confidence that you had needed. You opened your legs again.

This time, a newfound hunger engulfed Jaehyun at the sight of your glistening core.  

He was quick to abandon his initial plan, lowering himself between your legs before burying himself into your thighs. Like a parched lion, his tongue was quick to lap up your juices. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled against your core, the vibration created a new sensation and drew out a soft mewl from you.

His tongue moved skillfully, each motion methodical and purposeful. He alternated between licking up and down your wet heat and swirling his tongue around your swollen clit. Either way, your head was dizzy with arousal. Your hips grinded against his face, searching for another release. Explicit words mixed with his name and your pleas carelessly tumbled out of your lips. Try as you might, you could barely contain your voice.

You hadn’t noticed it, but in the midst of your pleasure, Jaehyun had managed to push a singular finger into your core. His initial finger worked slower than his mouth, it’s only when a second finger thrusted into you that you felt him. The new sensation added to the maddening haze.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined, your body stiffening in anticipation. 

“Cum,” his command was firm, “cum for me, my pretty little slut.” 

The release was instantaneous, arousal flooded your system and your entire body quaked with pleasure. You almost saw white with that release. Your body heaved with a singular motion, crashing down into the bed. But Jaehyun didn’t let you rest; he was quick to replace his fingers with the vibrating dildo that he had chosen previously. A gasp escaped your lips, feeling yourself stretch around the foreign object. He turned it out and began pumping it into you. He ignored your pleas, revelling in the dishevelled sight of you. Office drone turned into a moaning mess. A twisted pleasure coursed through your body, a tinge of pain from sensitivity mixed with the dildo drilling into your g-spot. You begged him to stop, he didn’t. Your body buckled under the overstimulation; you were sure you were going to die if he didn’t stop. 

You caught a glimpse of his wicked smirk, taking pride in his work. 

Then, you fell from the cusp of your pleasure. A stream of clear liquid squirted from between your legs and onto Jaehyun’s face. Your eyes widened when you came to it, the first time that you had ever squirted. The pink flush on your cheeks reddened with more embarrassment. But before you had the time to apologise and explain that you didn’t intend on squirting all over him, he spoke first.

“Look at you, squirting all over me,” Jaehyun said, discarding the dildo, “I barely did anything, you know.” 

His velvety voice sent shivers down your spine. Your humiliation grew under the weight of his words, and the truth of the situation. He was a stranger that you’ve barely met, and here you were cumming so easily at his every touch. His eyes, filled with great desire, burned into yours, and that thrill you felt under his gaze only further cemented the truth. You were acting like a complete slut for him. 

You watched as he removed his jeans, then boxers. The sight of his member had your mouth salivating over it. You didn’t know you were such a slut. You could feel the growing heat between your legs as your mind conjured up images of his dick drilling into you. A foreign desire to just let him devour you arose. A strange impatience took over your mind whilst watching him slip on a condom. 

“Why?” he crawled back on the bed, hovering over your body, “Like what you see?” 

He didn’t wait for your reply, instead choosing to immediately thrust into you. A loud gasp escaped your throat. He felt bigger than you’d imagined. You were sure that he would split your body in half if he was any bigger and was grateful that he gave you a moment to adjust to his size. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled. He adjusted himself, with one hand holding on to the bedframe for balance, and the other rested around your neck. 

“Stop giving me such erotic looks, whore,” a twisted grin spread across his handsome face, “it only makes me want to mess you up even more.” 

His hips moved with practiced ease, each thrust deep and impactful and drew out loud gasps from you. He started rocking his hips quicker and sloppier, his hand tightening along the sides of your neck. You’ve never been choked before, but that new stimulation drove you crazy. The slight almost-drunk dizziness from the asphyxiation only intensified every one of Jaehyun’s thrust. 

“Oh?” he panted out with amusement, “You like getting choked, don’t you?”

He watched as your eyes rolled back and how your face scrunched with pleasure under his touch. The constant stream of melody that was your voice devolved from words and pleas into incoherent mewls and moans. 

“You’re squeezing me so tight. Expected nothing less from my favourite slut.”

His hips moved with increasing impatience, as the both of you chased the highs of an orgasm. His grip on your neck only tightened, drawing small crescents into your skin. He grunted and groaned with less of the control he seemed to have. 

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he said and you doubted, with what little sanity remained within you. 

Your hair was completely messed up, from your constant squirming. The baby hair along your hairline had been stuck on your face with your sweat. You’re pretty certain your make-up - just a touch of eyeliner and nude lipstick - had all been smudged by sweat and tears. If anything, you’re sure you looked like a messed-up whore. 

Still, Jaehyun leaned down and connected your lips with fervour. His warm tongue darted quickly between your lips and danced with yours, sucking and twirling your tongue. His thrusts didn’t slow down, and instead continuously rammed into your sweet little spot. 

At this moment, you were completely intoxicated by his touches. He studied you well though, knowing that you were on the edge of your orgasm. 

“Aw, are you about to cum?” he said with mocking sympathy, “You’re gonna cum on a stranger’s dick?”

You felt your ears turn red at his questions. The shame and guilt all twisting into a strange pleasure. You weren’t used to this, but you craved it more. 

“I’ll allow it,” he said, “you look so pretty cumming. Cum for me, slut.” 

There’s a disconnect between his words, a sort-of whiplash. One moment he called you pretty, another he was completely condescending. And yet, you liked it. You liked being his little slut. You liked looking pretty for him. And most of all, you liked obeying him. 

That desire to obey, however, fell short of Jaehyun’s expectations. A twisted anger filling his eyes as his hand punished your neck with an even tighter grip - you were barely gasping for air at this point. 

“I said, cum for me,” he growled before spitting in your face. 

The warm spit against your cheek swirled with the hypnotising haze of being choked and gave you the push you need to slip into a mindblowing orgasm. Your entire body spasmed in pleasure as desperate moans left your lips. Your toes curled tight, and your fingers scratched the bedpost. The orgasm lasted a solid a few seconds, but the waves of oxytocin still washed over you as you basked in the afterglow, serving as minor orgasms. 

But Jaehyun wasn’t a man of patience, especially not when you laid under him, completely writhing with pleasure with a look of complete daze. Your still-spasming core squeezed his dick tight and coupled with a few sloppy thrusts were enough to send him into an orgasm as well. 

He moaned and stiffened, his orgasm translated into deep and impactful thrusts as he rode out his orgasm. Your body was at a complete subservience to his orgasm, with Jaehyun not caring about your verbal protests from the overstimulation nor the way your hips and legs were shaking.

It took him a few moments, before he came crashing down on the bed next to you panting. The lust-driven demon seemed to disappear at an instance as a sweet smile replaced his previous smirk. 

“Satisfied?” 

You nodded shyly. He helped you out of the makeshift knot, finally freeing you. Your wrists were left with red marks, to which he apologised with a dimpled smile. 

“It’s fine,” you assured him, “I… liked it.” 

After all, your wrists would be evidence of this experience. 

Later on, he was quick to attend to your every need - bringing you water, tissues to clean up, and a fresh set of bathrobes - and insisted that you sleep in the room, at least until the sun was up, promising to not touch you unless you wanted him to. You almost let yourself be deluded into thinking that this was anything but professionalism from a staff of Hotel Paradise.

In the morning, before you left for home, Jaehyun parted with words that would haunt you for the week to come. 

“I hope to see you again. I really do.” 

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun #nct smut #nct #mine