#I had to sit in silence for a good 20 minutes just to really make peace with the news

[nighty-night-nh]

Well. My evening has gone in a descending order of bad.

My headphones stopped working. I lost the last drawing stylus I had. And now, my favorite sonic au that I've followed since i joined the fandom almost 9 years ago has come to a close to save it's creators mental health. I understand completely and wish them all the best in life, but I will miss the world they created. I will think of it fondly as a cornerstone of my childhood.

Tell content creators what their work means to you alright? You don't know when the last opportunity to tell them so will come.

#nicky rambles #and also #nicky vents #I had to sit in silence for a good 20 minutes just to really make peace with the news #i re watch the comic dub series twice a year every year. it was just as dear to me as GOTF #the world building is precisely why some of my favorite writing tropes are unwilling godlings caught in a battle so much bigger than them #voicelines from the dub play in my head all the time too #Shadows 'Good. Now RISE ' line to Silver? i can hear it clear as day. makes my skin tingle. it was that powerful #but. ive said enough as is. time to close this ramble #Rest in peace to Gigi ' s husband. A safe travels on the rest of life ' s road to Gigi themselves #A thank you to the team for supporting Gigi and helping to create this comic #And finally. Goodnight to The Murder of Me. I will not soon forget you. #i hope to draw a farewell peace some day. it deserves it #The Murder of Me #TMOM

[transformhim]

Pose

“We good here?”

The model’s question caught him off guard as Raul looked up from from his camera, adjusting the frame and focus for his next shot while his assistant, Damien, moved onto the set to adjust the light and prop placements. The deep bass background music played throughout the apartment in the awkward silence.

The fuck does he mean, are we done?? We’ve hardly started! Raul thought with an annoyed scratch at the back of his head. The model had been a terrible subject to begin with, giving poses and taking heavy sighs at each direction Raul tried to give him, and essentially treated the shoot as though it was something he was bored doing. His payment was way more than modest and the shoot wasn’t supposed to take more than an hour, but he looked like he was ready to leave just 20 minutes in.

Raul cleared his throat, “Uhh, actually we still need a couple more shots. The client is looking for a pretty varied spread to choose from. So if we could j—..”

“Come on, man, you’re really gonna make me do this for another 40 minutes? I’m sure what you got is fine.”

Raul breathed in heavily, “Look, it’ll just take a bit more, the contract said that it wouldn’t be—..”

“Well, you can take it up with my agent, man, I got places I gotta be,” the model started stepping off the set, turning his back to Raul to start packing his things.

Raul turned his eyes towards Damien, lifting his palms up in a disbelieving gesture and shaking his head. Damien just rolled his eyes and shrugged with a dejected smirk. They’ve dealt with these kinds of divas numerous times before. Almost too many to count, actually.

But money had been tight at the studio since the pandemic hit, and even all these years later it still hadn’t recovered. they couldn’t afford to keep getting these types of dismissive twats leave shoots before they were supposed to. Clients were always very specific about what they wanted and could cut pay if they weren’t satisfied.

But Raul and Damien had their own means of dealing with these kinds of rude bastards. As they exchanged wordless looks expressing their annoyance and frustration, Damien’s eyes began to slowly drift towards the model off set, gathering his belongings. His dejected look changed to one of curiosity as he bit his lip. He looked towards Raul and narrowed his eyes with a cheeky grin.

‘Should I?’ Damien mouthed silently towards Raul.

A sly grin spread across Raul’s face as he considered Damien’s proposal. He looked back at the model—turned away from them as he texted to his agent or slam piece or gym family or whatever—and back at Damien, biting his lip mischievously and nodding.

Damien smiled wider and stretched. He took off his tank top and tossed it aside, his toned hairy torso now bare. His fingers hooked under his waistband, and his basketball shorts and boxers drop silently to the floor as he kicked them over on top of his tank top. Now naked and hardening quickly, he arched his back in a stretch, rolled his neck, and rubbed his palms together as he stepped towards Raul. He leaned in for a quick kiss with his partner as he took the bottle body oil next to Raul that the model had used and squirted a massive helping into his hand, slathering it over his chest, arms, and face. Quickly, he moved towards the model gathering his things, ducking down lower as he approached.

“When you get to it, make sure my payment goes t—UUUHHHNNGGG!!” The model was interrupted in the middle of his sentence as Damien, in one fluid motion, pulled the model’s speedo down and plunged his face between his globular asscheeks. The model groaning and grunting in mindless pain and confusion, gripping the sides of the table where his things were sitting, as Damien popped his oily face and head into model’s tight hole, sending a loud squelching *SCHLORP* echoing through the apartment.

Damien’s slick body then began to suck up into the model’s hole, his muscular tan form thinning and contorting as he slithered deeper and deeper into the model’s guts, the entire process emitting a familiar meaty, slimy, slurping sound Raul knew and loved so well. Raul licked his lips, pawing his swelling package, as he watched the model’s sculpted ass distend slightly as his tight hole widen more and more as it hungrily slurped Damien inside him, his tattooed, lubricated form and limbs compressing in on themselves as he plunged deeper. Raul couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the model—he knew full well how ecstatic and orgasmic it felt to have Damien slither up inside him… and what came next.

Just as Damien’s ass and throbbing rod sank into the model’s guts, his thighs and legs shot up into the hole at a much faster speed, whipping into the model’s hole noisily. Raul had shoved his hands into his shorts and was stroking eagerly as the Damien's feet slurped inside while the model groaned and contorted, arching his neck and back and standing on the tips of his toes, cringing at the pain and pleasure racking through his body.

Damien was gleefully readjusting his out-of-proportion frame within the squeezing, slimy, meaty confines of the model’s body, feeling different parts of the model’s sides, abs, and back twitch, flex, and contort, as his body tried to adjust to its invader. He could hear the muffled sounds of Raul’s horny, drunken laughter from the outside, thinking he for sure must have been making the model appear to have a substantially pregnant beer gut as Damien’s body centralized in his torso. After using a stretched out hand to brush his lubricated, wet hair out of his face, Damien went to work shoving his limbs into the model’s extremities.

Damien loudly moaned from within the body as he felt his arms and legs come to new life with increased strength and size while his limbs shoved through slick meat like a tight sleeve into the model’s beefy appendages. He smirked, feeling cocky and horny as he felt his arms burst into massive cannons and his heart fluttered as he felt the rest of him come to life. Damien arched in exhilarated bliss as he felt his chest, torso, and back first compress under the weight of the model’s squeezing body and then surge outward in new sensations of power and mass as Damien’s senses merged with the model’s, enticing him to give his big chest a flex to feel it bounce with new weight.

Raul nearly blew his load from an observer’s perspective. The model’s head was lolled backwards and his eyes rolled back while his body underwent what looked to be an instant pump, his muscles standing out more prominently under his skin, bit by bit, as his boyfriend filled him up like a balloon. Raul gasped as he stroked himself, watching Damien fill up the model’s lower half, making his already impressive thighs and glutes swell larger still. The thong he was wearing for the shoot looked somehow more risqué than earlier, hugging the model’s sweaty skin more tightly and accentuating his now-larger parts. The model was no longer the shredded twunk he was when he came into the apartment, but a swaggering thicc muscle stud with his and Damien’s combined mass.

Finally, Raul could see a sizable lump appear from near the model’s collarbone, stretching the model’s gold chain to its limit, as Damien began to shove his own head upwards into the model’s. He began to elicit deeper, gurgling groans as Damien wiggled and stretched his head up into the neck. Raul felt himself nearing completion as the model’s head suddenly jolted upwards with a dull crack, the lump in the model’s throat now gone. It wasn’t until Raul heard Damien utter his first satisfied groan in the model’s low voice that he blew his pent up load all over the floor in front of him.

Damien rolled his head around in his new body, stretched his shoulders and panted a few more breaths. He touched the foreign curves and angles in his face for a moment, turned on by his own handsome, sharp, smooth face. He felt sweat dripping off him from his exertion and huffed a big whiff of the new musk he emitted. Not bad!

“Alright!” He rubbed his hands off his face and down his pillowy chest.

“Let’s take some pictures.”

Damien turned to see that Raul had blown a sizable load all over the floor, some even on the set, and giggled as Raul chuckled, panting, coaxing the last of his load out of his shaft, letting it dribble down his fingers and onto the puddle below.

“Already?! Come on, man,” Damien chastised playfully.

“Sorry, babe, I just love the way you filled him out, dude. Fuck!”

“Oh? Y’like?” Damien teased walking towards him, saucily lolling his tongue out while he flexing his arms hard and tensing his pec muscles several times. He was being corny like always, but Raul was kicked into 5th gear again, instantly ready to blow another load.

“Yeah, dude, I fuckin’ do,” Raul took the liberty of feeling up Damien’s slick muscle gut, running his hands over his protruding abs. Damien could see how into this his boyfriend was and decided to move things forward a bit.

He grabbed Raul’s hand and shoved it into his thong, feeling his new hardening 7 incher steel against his boyfriend’s palm. He humped and gyrated his mammoth cock against Raul’s hand and asked, “What about the shoot?”

“Shoot can wait,” Raul moaned as he gripped onto Damien’s slick dick and stroked, lifting up Damien’s huge arm with his other hand and burying his face into Damien’s sweaty pits, licking and lapping at the moist surface while inhaling deeply.

Damien lifted up his other arm for Raul to let his boyfriend worship his other pit, bouncing his pecs a bit as Raul slathered his greedy face across his sweaty jugs on his way to the next pit. Damien grinned as he felt Raul continue to lovingly work his shaft. He was looking forward to a hedonistic, indulgent weekend with his boyfriend—he just hoped they eventually remember to finish the shoot.

#male transformation #male tf #muscle #muscle growth tf #male body suit #body suit tf #male possession #straight to gay tf #absorption #musky #male scent #male body transformation

[romantichomicide95]

LEVI ACKERMAN ;

summary: injured reader, levi thinks back to her confessing her love. levi being levi. angst, might do a part II if people tell me to.

tagging: @i-literally-cant-with-this because you asked bbygirl.

“why can’t we have both?” your words play over and over in levi’s mind. he’s been pacing outside your door for what feels like hours but realistically has probably been only 20 minutes. how could you be so foolish? he thinks. you and your reckless behavior, always trying to barge into danger to save somebody else.

but than again, that was why he respected you so much. levi couldn’t deny it, he had always admired you for it. it was one of the things that had drawn him to you. you were reckless, yes. you were careless, and you were always risking your own life to save someone else. but it was also what made you so brave, so strong, so resilient and so god damn dedicated.

it was also the reason he couldn’t seem to get you out of his head. it was annoying really, like a tiny little bug ringing in his ear that no matter how much he tried he couldn’t seem to squash. it didn’t help that you were so god damn easy on the eyes, he’d even catch his gaze lingering on you for just a half a second more than needed. and that irritated him, it irritated him how much he let you crawl under his skin, and into his heart so guarded from all the loss he’d had in his lifetime.

but that didn’t matter. he had a mission and he wasn’t going to let some tiny little feeling get in the way. that’s why he’d rejected you, rejected the one thing he felt was a constant in this shitty war against the titans. and now as he paces outside your door he can’t help but let those words ring back through his head. “why can’t we have both?”

——

“what did you say?” levi says, looking up at you. you and levi were in his office doing paperwork, it had become a habit. at first it was just because you were faster than anyone else and he needed the help; but over time he came to look forward to seeing you sitting there across his desk. the silent rustling of papers, the warm glow of candlelight, the way your forehead crinkled when you were deep in focus, it was something he found himself looking forward to.

“i said, i love you," you repeat softly, your voice trembling slightly as you meet levi’s intense gaze. "we have something here, don't we?" your heartbeat picks up as you wait for his response, hammering against your chest.

levi takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. he looks down at the papers scattered across his desk before finally meeting your eyes once more.

your heart sinks, and before he can respond you speak again. "i mean, you care about me right? i can feel it…i don’t want to pretend anymore.” you murmur. it was like this unspoken thing between you, he never really let anyone in, never let anyone close enough. but with you, he had. he’d let you crack away at his walls until you were the one person he actually wanted to be around. the person he’d gone out of his way countless times to keep in his life.

“i tolerate you, yes. but it doesn’t matter how i feel.” levi says after an uncomfortably long silence. “i don’t have time for romance. i am devoted to protecting humanity, we’re at war.”

“i know that levi, but…” you pause, trying to find the right words. “why can’t we have both?” you meet his eyes, an almost pleading look in your own. “romance and our devotion to protecting humanity.”

there's something about the way you look at him, the way you say his name, that makes him question everything he thought he knew about himself. but he has to shut you down, he knows he is being harsh, but he needs to focus on the mission, focus on the greater good. he can’t let himself be selfish, he doesn’t have it in him.

"we can't have both, no matter how we feel," levi replies firmly, trying to sound more confident than he feels. "our lives are too dangerous, too unpredictable. we can't risk attachment, they only slow us down in the end. i’m sorry.”

——

“she’s still not awake” hange’s words snap levi out of his thoughts. “she’s still breathing, but she got pretty roughed up.”

“oh, it’s good she’s still breathing than.” levi says, his voice as flat as ever, not betraying his inner worry. but hange knows better than that, knows that little crinkle in his brow is an indication of his true inner thoughts.

“i have to go check on something with erwin, i’ll leave you to it.” hange places a hand on levi’s shoulder for a fraction of a second before she disappears down the hall.

he slowly opens the door, taking a deep breath as his eyes are drawn to your still form. his eyes scroll over the bruises marring your pretty face, and without even realizing it his heart clenches in his chest.

he takes in every little detail of your face. he can remember your eyes, so kind and beautiful; the way they lit up every time you laughed at his ridiculous sense of humor. he can remember the way you scrunch up your nose when you think he’s said something crude. and as he does so memories of your time together start to flood back. how kind and patient you are, how fiercely loyal and protective. how you never judge him for his demeanor, and how in that stupid little confession, you love him despite it.

as he sits next to your bed, he can't shake the memory of your words echoing in his mind - "why can't we have both?"

“you’re an idiot you know?” he says softly, unaware of the fact he’s speaking his thoughts aloud. “or maybe i’m the idiot.” he admits. “i’m not the greatest at all this emotional shit. but maybe i was wrong,” he finally admits and he reaches out tentatively, brushing a bloody lock of hair away from your face. his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary before retracting them away.

“maybe we can have both.” he takes a deep breath “i can’t promise anything, but hell, we can try.” and for the first time in forever, levi feels something other than duty and responsibility weighing on his heart - and it scares him more than any titan ever could.

“you just have to wake up y/n…please.”

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #levi x reader #captain levi #levi aot #aot #snk #snk levi #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi x fem!reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n

[cupid-styles]

Ahhhh I need more hockey!harry 😍 I need a whole back story to how they met, when he started teasing her and for what reason and how they end up together. It’s soo good, I especially loved the jealous blurb, I need more! ❤️

ahhhhh thank you cutie!!! here's a blurb on how they met and got to where they are now

also tysm to cutie @harrysonlylover for this collage!!!! this v much represents their relationship <3

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: none!

masterlist | talk to me

hockey h x ballerina!yn masterlist

patreon

. . .

Things between Harry and Y/N weren’t always like this.

In fact, maybe in another world, they would’ve been friends. Even lovers, perhaps, but that may be pushing the envelope just a tad. They’re both third years, which means they started at the university at the same time. They attended all of those silly orientation meetings and events alongside one another (and few hundred others) that are designed to make incoming freshmen feel more comfortable, but in reality, just make things awkward and cringy. 

(Harry remembers visibly recoiling when he was told to come up with a fun fact, and they weren’t allowed to say anything about their majors or primary sports.) 

(He ended up going with the fact that he was born in London, which their orientation leader, Lisa, was far too interested in — an annoying amount, really. He thinks she tried getting with him at the bonfire that evening, but Harry was so exhausted he couldn’t even be bothered to pretend like he knew what she was getting at.)

But Y/N was in his orientation group, actually. Years later, he still remembers how strong her legs looked in her shorts and the way she tied her hair up with a velvet scrunchie (it was in the middle of July, and the heat was sweltering, sunrays pelting them straight into their backs and necks). He doesn’t recall what her fun fact was, but he does know that they were paired up for some dumb icebreaker activity. In an effort to get them better familiar with the campus, they had to do a scavenger hunt which, to Harry, felt like cruel and unusual punishment considering the rapidly increasing temperature. They were instructed to fill up their free, university-sponsored water bottles and get to work, returning back to the post before 5 pm, where they’d be having some sort of barbecue situation.

At first, Harry thinks she’s shy. Well, she is — she’s quiet and doesn’t say much besides a soft “thank you” when he offers to run her water bottle over to the refill station. She’s focused on the task at hand, though he can both tell that they would rather poke their own eyes out than do it.

“Let’s take a break,” Harry decides, not 20 minutes in. It’s mainly because his eyes zero in on a shady area on the quad, a semblance of shade offered by a large oak tree. Y/N, exhausted herself, doesn’t fight him.

She sits cross-legged in the grass, her posture near impeccable as Harry lays down, fixing his sunglasses into his curly hair. 

“Have you decided on a major yet?” Harry asks, desperate for some sort of small talk — normally, he doesn’t care for niceties, but the near-silence between them is killing him, considering how hot and bored he is.

“I have a ballet scholarship.” she answers simply.

“That’s cool,” he nods, though he doesn’t know a single thing about it, “I didn’t know this school was big on ballet.”

He notices the way she wrinkles her nose, eyes squinting slightly. 

“It’s one of the top dance schools in the country, only behind performing arts universities.”

“Oh. Nice.”

Y/N attempts to shake away his ignorance, head cocking to look down at the male laying at her side. “And you? What are you majoring in?”

And Harry doesn’t really mean it, but it comes out without him even realizing it. It’s just— no one’s asked him that in years, but only because where he’s from, everybody knows he was the top hockey player in the city, number five in the state. Nobody ever expected Harry to go to school to study anything because it was always known that he’d go for hockey. 

So, he snorts. He actually, physically snorts, and the look of apparent disgust is immediately clear on Y/N’s face. Parting his lips, he instantly wishes he can take it back, especially when she straightens her posture to sit up a bit higher.

“I’m sorry, I— I’m here for hockey,” Harry flounders, sitting up on his elbows. “I have a hockey scholarship.”

“And was I supposed to know that?” Y/N fires back with narrowed eyes. He shakes his head. 

“No, of course not.”

“Right,” she says, standing from the shady oasis and brushing her hands over her bum to get any grass off of it, “Let’s finish this.”

. . . 

Harry was wrong about Y/N.

He thought she was shy and quiet, maybe a bit mousy if anything. But no— it turns out, in the few hours that he’s known Y/N, if she doesn’t have a taste for someone, she’ll make it known. It’s not even in outwardly mean ways, it’s just passive aggressive, like dismissive hums at his every attempt at conversation, or him pointing out the ballet studio on their walk through the campus center. He even says “oh, wow, it looks beautiful,” hoping to pet at the excited, passionate part of her personality, but instead, she ignores him. 

She ignores him.

So when they finally finish the stupid scavenger hunt, Harry couldn’t be more eager to be done with it. He tells her he’ll submit the papers to their orientation leader so she can go fuck off and find whatever friends she’s made, and she does, without even a bit of arguing. It makes Harry sigh as he’s walking back to the big barbecue event in the quad. He feels bad for his cocky response — he didn’t even mean it, and it came off so arrogantly that she would probably forever associate him with it until they went their separate ways. 

He has a hockey thing tonight — the rest of the team that aren’t first-years are already back on campus, practicing and gearing up for the start of the season, so the coach invited him to come meet everyone — but he can’t shake how shitty he feels about someone already hating him. He decides he’ll offer an olive branch of cheese fries (he opts out of a burger or hot dog, just in case she’s vegetarian). He spots her sitting at a table in the same shady spot they were in earlier, two other girls by her side as they chat. From here, she looks happy, engaged in casual conversation with people she could’ve met today or known for years — he really can’t tell.

When he makes it over to their table, he expects Y/N to at least look up at him, some sort of recognition in her expression, but instead she just looks… confused? Bored?

“Hey,” Harry greets awkwardly, feeling that their conversation immediately took a pause due to his presence. He places the cheese fries down on the table. “I’m sorry again about today. I don’t want that to be your first impression of me.”

Based on her demeanor, he doesn’t expect a gracious response; if anything, a lackluster “it’s fine” would have sufficed. But instead, her eyebrow quirks and she cocks her head to the side. 

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

It hits Harry in the gut. 

He flounders, his lips parting open and closed like a fish gasping for air. He collects himself a moment later, pressing his mouth into a tight line. 

“You’re right. Must have confused you with someone else,” he replies with a clenched jaw. “Enjoy the fries anyway.”

His legs quickly carry him far away from the table and in the direction of the hockey arena and locker room. He hopes he can pull some skates on and at least shoot around a little, because if he ever has to see that girl’s face again, she’ll have hell to pay.

#bestie asks #writing #hockey h #harry styles #harry styles writing #tags are tedious

[chrisevansonly]

𝐏𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

ʚ lando norris x female reader

ʚ you’d never miss Lando’s home grand prix, not even for some silly meetings, only your boyfriend doesn’t know that…yet

ʚ fluff, cute lando you know the deal

ʚ not requested i just felt like attempting to write for lando, i know my writing isn’t the best and this is really bad:( but i just i really feel like shit for not updating as much, i promise i’m trying🩷

Silverstone, a race Lando called his own, the craziness of the fans mixed with the adrenaline in the paddock, it was one of his favourites: only this year he’d be without you…or so he thought. For weeks now you were planning a surprise visit to the grand prix, originally meetings had your schedule packed through the race week and weekend, but by some miracle, you’d managed to get out of them. In all honesty you would have attempted to get to Silverstone even if you’d had the meetings still.

There was a palpable excitement in your body as you scanned into the paddock, courteously of Oscar and Lily for helping you set this surprise up. Lando was finishing up media duties and would be in the lounge eating lunch with some of the team, so you knew you had a good 20 minutes to find him.

“Hey Y/N!”

You smiled waving to Zak Brown, who’d spotted you just before you headed into hospitality.

“Hey Zak! Lando upstairs?”

He nodded

“Yeah, they all just sat down for lunch, Oscar filled me in, don’t worry I won’t spoil anything”

You laughed, thanking him before quickly making your way up the stairs, butterflies swirling around, you’d been missing Lando a lot recently, so this visit wasn’t only going to be good for him, it would be good for you too. It wasn’t hard to find him, his curls sticking out as he laughed along with his team

“Am I interrupting?”

A silence fell over the room as everyone turned to gauge the British drivers reaction, at first he just stared, trying to figure out if you were really there, then the biggest smile spread across his face as he jumped up and came over to you

“What the fuck?”

“Surprise Lan!!”

Lando didn’t waste anytime bringing you into his arms, a few whistles from his team as he placed a kiss on your lips, pulling away after just enough to look at you

“When did you get here?!”

Smiling you brushed a curl that had fallen against his forehead

“Just now, Oscar and Lily helped me pull this off”

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

Pulling him back in for a hug, you held him close, there was no place else in the world that felt like home as much as being in Lando’s arms did, he was home.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you too..”

Lando pulled you with him to sit down, his hand holding onto yours tightly, not wanting to let go as you both caught up, talked about the upcoming race and anything else that was on your minds. Going into this weekend Lando already knew he was going to give it his all, but seeing you was the extra push he’d need to go out there and leave it all on the track.

No matter what place he’d finish, you would always be proud of him.

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #lando norris x female reader #lando norris au #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x wife reader #lando norris x girlfriend reader #lando norris f1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt4

pt 3 here content: Choso follows reader, finds ur house on Zillow, screen records ft, has a shrine for u, reader is slowly developing feelings for Choso, I mean who wouldn't? mentions of reader not having family, he doesn't know that he's a stalker, just thinks he's being nice, MENTIONS of choso scared someone will kidnap reader, the word assault is used once.

(a.n) ahhhh omg I luv him so much, I wrote this while listening to 'Mascara-Deftones'

taglist: @leafanight @tfamidoingwithmylife @sunaumei @adanfore @tojisworm-5 @bblgumfairy

Obsessive!Choso who was sitting peacefully in class, turning his head anytime he heard the doors open, in case it was you. But when you actually walked in, he didn't hear you.

Obsessive!Choso who shuddered when he got a hint of your perfume, almost feeling your presence. “Hi.” you said, earning him to jump slightly and turn his head to look at you. Looking down to where you usually sat- seeing your ‘friend’ was there. “Could I sit here?” You asked, hand pulling the chair out before he said yes. ‘You came to the same conclusion, didn’t you’ silence filling the air as Choso slightly leaned away from you- being able to feel the warmth radiating from your body to his. Being able to smell your shampoo. This was too close, you were too close. 

Obsessive!Choso whose shoulders were stiff for the first 20 minutes of class, wanting to talk to you, but not finding the words. Not wanting to speak up, just for his voice to crack from his nerves. Not even having the guts to look over at you- this was torture. So used to looking at you for the entire lecture, being forced to actually try to pay attention to what was being taught. Hearing a quiet rip coming from your notebook, moving his eyes to see you writing. 

Obsessive!Choso who flinched when he felt you elbow his arm, the first time you had touched him. Your hand passed him a folded up piece of paper. ‘You have to be joking- you really are into me, aren't you?’ he thought, smiling and opening up the paper. ‘how can u see from all the way up here o_o’ he read, looking over at you. Smiling at the small face you drew. ‘I think I’m in love with you.’ he confessed, pressing the paper down and writing. The class was quiet enough to hear a pin drop- Choso assumed that was why you didn't just speak to him. Scribbling onto the paper, rings scratching on the table as he wrote, trying his best not to take up too much space. ‘i squint a lot -.-’ you read, smiling at the small face he drew before writing again. ‘i think i need a magnifying glass- i cant see anything:(’ Choso read. Looking over at you and smiling. Folding the paper and holding it in his hand before he tore at his notebook. ‘i got u 🔍 ’ he replied, drawing a tiny magnifying glass, seeing you struggle not to laugh. Letting out a loud exhale. Various students looking back at you two. Among them, your 'friend'. Who had assumed you were just absent. Furrowing her eyebrows as the rest of the students looked away. ‘thanks, rlly helps.’ you smiled, seeing him place the note into his pocket before going back to your work. 

Obsessive!Choso who stayed after class with you for a few minutes, watching all the students walking out. Talking about when a good time would be to help you study. “Dude? You seriously deserted me?” Your friend asked you, making you turn around to look at her. “Deserted? I sat somewhere else.” You scoffed, Choso could feel the tension in the air between you and your friend. “Yeah, to sit with -Pierce The Veil?” She asked, holding her books close to her chest. ‘Pierce The Veil?’ Choso thought- eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at your friend. “You're being fucking rude, don’t you think?”

Obsessive!Choso who felt his cheeks flush at hearing you defend him. “Whatever- call me when you're over this whole ‘I can change him’ phase.” She sneered, looking at Choso, scoffing before leaving. You turned over at him, a pained look on your face. “Sorry about that-” You started, a small sigh leaving your lips, “She hates anything that's out of her version of normal.” you smiled, seeing Choso exhale with a smile. Easing your embarrassment. “It's fine- I'm used to people being,” he shook his head smiling before looking down, “Fucking rude- As you put it.” He smiled, making you look away from him. ‘I can see you're smiling. You can't hide it. Not from me.’

Obsessive!Choso who kept those two pieces of paper. Putting them in between two strips of tape so they wouldn't fade. Placing them next to your pen and the coffee cup you had taken a drink from, lipstick stain still evident. His collection of things you had touched- or left behind just for him, started to grow. 

Obsessive!Choso who kept thinking about how other people get to see you. Other people perceive you, what if there's more people like that one douche who dared invade your personal space? Who had the audacity to touch you? ‘What if there are people who want to hurt you- like your now, ex friend. What if she wanted to hurt you- to make you regret defending me?’ he thought. The feeling of responsibility was heavy in his chest. Knowing that you couldn't protect yourself- you don't even pay attention to your surroundings! Walking around campus with your earphones in, looking down at your phone. ‘No. I have to protect you. It's my responsibility. As your friend.’

Obsessive!Choso who started following you after class, learning what your classes had. Watching you from a distance while you killed time before your next class, sitting at a table in the large dining hall. Eating a small snack while on your computer. ‘You must live far from campus, that's why you won’t go home right?’ Writing down in a small notebook what class and what time it started. ‘I'm just making sure you're safe. Just in case someone tries something- I will always be here.’ He'd assure himself, drawing the line at following you home. Saying, ‘I'm not a stalker,’ He called your name in his head, as though he was speaking to you, ‘I won't cross that line. I refuse to invade your privacy.’ But something inside of him always told him to do it and get it over with. Afternoons of watching you walk away from the campus, the minute he'd see you turn the corner, he'd almost start hyperventilating. Thinking about all the stories and the news articles of people being kidnapped off the sidewalk in the middle of the day. Closing his eyes and trying to not think about how someone could be taking you away from him right now.  

Obsessive!Choso who heard your voice whisper in his head, asking him if he was just gonna let you be kidnapped. Taunting him in his own mind. Not being able to hear you clearly, trying so hard to focus on what you were saying- only making his ears hurt trying to listen to your whispers. Everytime, he fought off your voice. And everytime he felt guilty for even letting you be exposed to the chance. The chance of being assaulted, of being murdered by someone who was crazy. Someone who was stalking you. Choso hated the thought of someone hurting you, so he had to make sure you were okay. Make sure you get home safe. 

Obsessive!Choso who was walking far behind you, making sure to step lightly so you couldn't hear him. ‘I just want to keep you safe. That's all.’ he kept defending his actions to nobody but himself. Standing behind a tree as he watched you open the door to your house. ‘Not your parents, not a sorority- roommates. You live with roommates.’ he thought before opening his phone and saving the location.

Obsessive!Choso who was on his computer, hunched over as he looked through a walkthrough on Zillow. Wanting to know which one was your bedroom. 

Obsessive!Choso who spend countless nights picturing you in that house. He wanted to know if you were home right now, laying in the dark waiting for him to call you. Taking time to picture you in each bedroom he saw. Wondering what you had on your walls, what bedsheets you had. How many pillows you had on your bed. Closing his eyes and wondering if you had a desk- or a vanity. Scrolling through your feed to scan the walls of your bedroom. Going through the various screenshots from your story and your friends’. 

Obsessive!Choso who found a video your friend had posted in his gallery- of you laying on your back on the floor. Pillow beneath your hands, the quality was bad. It was a video that was posted over and over, taking it from their story on your birthday. Posting it to show their love for you. But from what he could hear- they were laughing at you. Making fun of you. While you asked them if they knew the true meaning of life, clearly on something from the looks of it. Trying to have a decent conversation with these people- only for them to laugh at you. Saying your name in his head, calling for your attention. ‘I would never do that to you. I will never laugh at you when you'd want to have a conversation. I will always listen to your words, no matter how silly they sound.’

Obsessive!Choso who thought that he was the only friend you will ever need. The only classmate you could depend on. Wanting desperately to tell you. Tell you that you don't need to surround yourself with superficial people when you have him. But for now. He will keep his opinions of your life to himself, till the day comes where he becomes a closer friend to you than any of them. 

Obsessive!Choso who was thrown from his thoughts when he saw his phone ring. Your cute contact name making him smile. Answering with a ‘Hello?’ like he didn't look at who was calling. “Hey- it's me.” You smiled, hearing him say hi again. “Are you busy?” you asked, wondering if he had time to help you study. “I'm not, no.” he exhaled, his hand on his knee while he closed his eyes to picture you. “Why?” he asked, feeling more comfortable speaking to you day by day. Closing your eyes, feeling uneasiness in your stomach before asking him. “I was wondering-” you exhaled, your tone telling him that you were smiling. “If you could help me study? If not it’s totally understandable- it's late and you must be tired-” You rambled, making Choso smile at how you were starting to feel nervous speaking to him. “No. I’d be delighted to.” He replied, making your cheeks warm at how polite he was. 

Obsessive!Choso who was starting to feel like he couldn't see you as he did before. It became clear to Choso. The more he sees you, the more he speaks to you. The more you keep flirting with him- the harder it is to see you clearly. Which was becoming more and more difficult, seeing as you never hesitated to ask him if he wanted to tag along with you after class. Or how you didn't ask him if you could call him through text anymore. 

Obsessive!Choso who was surprised when you asked if you could facetime him, muttering while moving the call to your computer. His hands knocked over the cup full of pens that was next to his laptop, quickly sliding his closet door shut, knowing that the angle of his laptop would've given you a clear view of his shrine dedicated to you. Scanning his desk before he pushed a strand of his hair behind his ear. Fixing his shirt before answering. Every time he saw you- he felt like you kept getting more and more beautiful. Even if you didn't have as much makeup on as you did in the day. Smile on your face when you saw him pop up onto your screen, “I can see you!” you exclaimed, your hand going to your mouth to pick at the dry skin to soothe your nerves. Seeing him with his hair down- light traces of the eye makeup he had on earlier. In truth, it was late, too late to be calling a class mate. But you wanted to see if he would answer, if you were tripping when you saw something other than friendship in the way he smiled at you, in the way he looked at you sometimes. Remembering how quiet and unapproachable he was before you had befriended him. Wondering if what you were feeling was something else. Not wanting to ruin a blossoming friendship with a real person, that formed his own thoughts. Not caring if the version he peddled to the masses was unacceptable. 

Obsessive!Choso who knew he didn't want to miss another opportunity, starting a recording on his screen. Even if he wasn't going to be able to hear what you said later- the feeling of knowing that he would be the only one with this video of you, was indescribable. Almost like he was keeping this side of you to himself. 

Obsessive!Choso who made sure to scan the walls of your bedroom, the angle that you had posed the camera was saddening. Only letting him see a small corner of your bedroom. But what he could see was your bed. Messy and not made, ‘If i lived with you- you'd never have to worry about the bed being made. I would always make sure that you'd come home to a welcoming bed waiting for you.’ he thought, hearing you read aloud the professor's comments on an essay you had turned in. “I feel like he's personally targeting me-” You smiled, that was the first time he had a violent thought about someone when it came to you. His eyes widening before trying to forget what he thought of. “What's your grade in the class anyway?” You asked, seeing his eyes glaze over at what you were saying. Not knowing that he was thinking of you, of defending your honor. He looked up, making a feigned thinking face before replying, “B- I think?” he lied. ‘I don't want to lie to you’ he thought, saying your name in his head, ‘I really don't. But I can’t let you see that I am not put together.’

Obsessive!Choso who died inside when you picked up your laptop to move onto your bed, ‘You didn't call me to study- you just wanted to talk to me?’ seeing that you didn't even bring up this so-called studying you asked him to help you with. While moving something- you saw the full print of the shirt he was wearing. “I love that band.” You commented, lifting yourself from the pillow you were resting on. Choso looked down at the shirt he was wearing, smiling at your compliment. “I didn't think that you listened to this kind of music.” He commented, sitting back down to look at you. Dim lights in your bedroom making you look ethereal. “I listen to everything really.” You mumbled, turning to your side, holding your head up in your hand. Moving the computer to face you. “Even country?” He asked, his tone soaked in sarcasm. “God no- But everything else, yeah.” You smiled, seeing him look at the screen with a warm smile.

Obsessive!Choso who let out a choked sigh when you asked what his plans were for winter break. “Goin home-” He exhaled, rubbing his forehead in frustration, remembering that college isn't the only thing in his life, you weren't the only person he cared for. The facetime was fun, talking to you outside of class was fun. Off campus, and it being so late. No valid excuse for wanting to talk with him now, other than just wanting to see him, to hear him. But the thought of winter break was heart shattering. Wanting to see his brothers but not wanting to go so long without seeing you. “And whose home?” You asked, seeing his eyebrows furrow at your past question. “My brothers.” He replied, hoping the conversation would steer elsewhere to stop thinking about this. “Younger or older?” You asked, wanting to know more about him.

Obsessive!Choso who for the first time, you asking about his life made him feel uneasy. The stinging in his chest made him pick at the skin on the sides of his chipped black fingernails. Twitching his head to try and shake off the feeling, “No, I'm the oldest.” He replied, fiddling with his thumbs and looking down, “Ahh I see.” You smiled, he looked down at his hands. A sudden wave of sadness fell over him, “And you? Where are you going for break?” He tried to snap out of the sudden funk. “I'm staying here, no family to go home to.” Your smile dropped, feeling the same as he did, remembering the fact that there was nowhere to call home.

Obsessive!Choso who felt so sad for you, who wanted to ask you what happened, thinking that he wasn't there yet with you. But god, the look on your face. Like you were about to start crying made his heart break for you. “Is it too far to ask what happened?” he mumbled, seeing you look away from the screen. “Just-" You sighed, "Family sucks. But I'd rather stay here. My roommates will all be gone-” You flashed him a toothy smile, trying to ease the tension. ‘Roommates. I knew it.’ he thought, a smile creeping onto his face as the worries of leaving you faded. “The campus will be empty. And I'll finally be able to catch up on my assignments, and the dozens of books I've started but never finished.” You assured him. Choso felt like he was finally able to get to know you, what will happen when he leaves you for three weeks? ‘Should I stay? If you asked me I would. I would stay right here with you.’

Obsessive!Choso who felt his heart thump in his chest, “Choso?” You asked, looking at him for the first time without a smile. “Yes?” He answered, his knee bouncing while seeing you cover your face with your hand. “I feel like a child asking you this-” you smiled, ‘Ask me.’ he smiled, “Could I- call you when you're out of town?” you grimaced, cringing at the words coming out of your mouth. He opened his mouth to speak, but feeling like you had just been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, you elaborated. “I just- I'll miss the uhh-” You looked up, “Refreshing conversations.” You laughed, seeing him let out a choked laugh with you. ‘Call me whenever you want, call me in the middle of the night, sad, happy, sick, for favors, for a laugh. Don't ever hesitate to call me.’ He wanted to say, desperately wanted to tell you to call him all the time. How he would wait by his phone for you to call him. 

Obsessive!Choso who couldn't bring himself to do it. Settling for; “Call me whenever you want. I’ll always answer.” He smiled, seeing you push the camera away from your face, your cheeks warm at how easily that came from his lips. Making Choso realize that his slow attempts at ‘friendship’ were working a little too well on you. “Okay, okay-” You smiled, pointing the camera to your flushed face. “I need to go to bed now.” You sat up, seeing him look at you in a way you haven't seen before, almost with hearts in his eyes. “Okay. Goodnight.” He smiled, deep voice making you want to laugh at how flustered you felt right now. “Goodnight Choso.” You smiled, clicking the red x and closing your laptop. Falling back to your pillows and closing your eyes. 

Obsessive!Choso who almost ran around his apartment, holding back all the blushing laughs and the many comments he thought while on the phone with you, felt like a torture that was perfectly crafted for him. Knowing he was going to rewatch those two hours of your face over and over again. Dissecting every frame and saving them as photos, making one of them his screen saver on his laptop. The past delusion of you possibly, maybe, just maybe, being his. Wasn't a delusion anymore. It was possible now, seeing you blush at his words made him see that. Smiling at the idea that all he's done wasn't in vain, there was an upside to his ‘crush’ on you. Closing his eyes and leaning back on his bed, picturing a day when you'd hold his hand, calling him your boyfriend. That day that was a possibility now. A day he wished would come soon. 

-

pt 5 here

........I have no words🫣 pls let me know if u wanna be tagged- nd make sure i can tag u lmao- ran into some issues while trying to tag accs that had the 'prohibit users from looking me up' on🫠

#jjk #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso my beloved #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #jujutsu kaisen #emo choso #College au #Non Curse au #sfw jjk

[jeon-ify]

from @bearbread83

“3 & 6 with san pls - reader is a virgin and self conscious that she is one still at the age of 20 - san comforts her and it’s just really sweet/comforting & loving sex 🥰 thanks!!!”

3. “shh, baby. it’ll feel good, i promise.”

6. “you’re my favorite girl.”

🫶🏻

warnings: virginreader, softdomsan, comforting sex, reader is embarrassed to be a virgin, insecure reader, if i missed anything lmk!

MDNI!!!

stay here forever- choi san

san’s not a virgin. you found out last week.

you were sitting with san’s friends and a few friends of friends. there were 3 girls (other than you), as well as 8 guys. you were sure the louder one with a mole had a crush on you but you didn’t care. you had your eyes set on san all night.

there you were, sneaking out of your house at 11pm to try to make an effort to lose your virginity. san had no idea he would be part of this plan, but in your mind, he knew. he knew he was gonna be the first to fuck you, the only man who would ever see what flaws you claim you have, or how you’re so insecure about your breasts. you’re sure san wouldn’t make fun of you for them, right?

you’re sitting at the end of his bed scrolling through your phone, waiting for him to initiate a conversation. you give up after 8 minutes of uncomfortable silence. “sannie, can we talk about something? don’t make fun of me.” you worry. he won’t. of course not. it just sounds so ridiculous that you’re in your 20s and you’re still a virgin.

san sets his phone down on the nightstand, focusing his attention on you. “talk to me, baby.” he coos.

he’s been so patient when it came to sex with you. you weren’t ready, and he was okay with that. he didn’t love you any less and didn’t see you any different.

you hesitate to let the words leave your mouth because you feel so weird just saying how you feel right now. “i-i think i’m ready to… y’know” you manage.

san scoots closer to you, scanning your face and his own ears to make sure he was hearing this right. he knows what you mean, he just wants to hear you say it.

“sannie, i think i’m ready to have sex. but we have to do it with the lights off.” he looks at you, worry taking over his expression. he brings his hands to hold yours, comforting you in your insecurities. “y/n, in the dark? baby, i wanna see every inch of you. wanna kiss you and hold you. skin on skin, my love.”

san adored you. he would walk the ends of the earth for you. he hated when you had moments like these— it makes him rethink is job as a boyfriend to make you love and see yourself for what you are. you had no flaws whatsoever. san made sure you knew that— but now it’s different. it’s different because he’s seeing parts of your body that no one else has.

“let me take care of you, darling. i just wanna make you feel good, my love.” his face coming closer to yours and embracing your lips in a love lock. he deepens the kiss as his hands move up your shirt. you try to move his hands but he looks at you, signaling you to just let him take care of you. he brings his lips down to your neck, moving to your collarbone and slowly, your back is pressed against his soft mattress.

“you’re my favorite girl. love you so much, star.”

whenever san kissed you, it felt like you were being snatched from reality. he knows you, he knows your body, your heart. you believed everything he ever said to you.

“san—“ you try to press your bra down with your hands, san looking at you silently. you move your hands, and let him just take control of the moment. you decide ti no longer hide from him, and let him make you feel his love.

“stop hiding from me, my love. please, just let me do this for you, hm?” you nod. he takes his t-shirt off, tossing it on the floor. he moves down to take your pants and underwear off to toss them by his clothing. he places your legs onto his shoulders as he levels himself with your pelvis. he plants a kiss on your lower stomach, moving towards your thighs, and finally reaching your area.

you let out a gasp, though san has barely touched you. he presses a soft kiss to your clit, slowly making out with your entire heat. he sucks and slurps like you’re his last meal. “you taste phenomenal, baby. wish you could see yourself the way i see you. you’d fall in love in every lifetime.” he groans. you move your hands to his hair, massaging and tugging all at the same time. san could stay like this forever if it means he gets to please you.

“my g- san- please,” you moan. your back arches upwards and san moves his arm to place one of your nipples in between his fingers. he pulls and tugs and rubs and illicit a response out of you.

“i feel you princess, go ahead and cum. let me take it all.” he moans. he looks up at you with his drool and your juices on his chin and corners of his lips. he’s so beautiful. he’s quite literally the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“there you go, pretty. you did it, ‘m so proud of you. are you ready to take me?” he smiles. it’s so comforting when san smiles at you. you feel like you’re in a warm cabin in mid december with a candle on, with fuzzy blankets hugging your body while drinking warm tea.

it also feels like the warmest hug. it feels like you’re walking on the rings of saturn with a path of stars following you whenever san called you pretty. he feels like an angel and you really don’t know how you ended up with san.

san stands up at the end of the bed, taking his pants and boxers off. you sit up on your elbows, watching as he undresses his last articles. he reaches to grab a condom out of his nightstand and you stop him. “i wanna feel you, i don’t wanna hold back from anything right now, sannie.” he reaches towards your face and kisses you like you were his lifeline.

he lays you down on your back as you pull him in for another kiss. “okay, are you ready baby?” he questions.

“yeah, i think, i am.” you respond, trying to stabilize your breathing. you feel like your throat is sandpaper.

“if i’m hurting you, please stop me. do you have a safeword?” you feel like bursting out into tears from how absolutely perfect this man is.

“if i yell anything random thats gonna be my safeword. for now, i don’t think i’ll need one.”

“okay. just relax, breathe, and close your eyes, ‘kay?” he plants a kiss on the bridge of your nose and you take in a deep breath. you hold onto his shoulder as you feel him putting just the tip in.

“breathe, baby, it’s okay. i got you, it’ll sting in the beginning, but once i’m in, it’ll feel good.” he focuses on your body language, being careful not to hurt you. he slowly inches himself in, and you feel like you’re being ripped in half.

“s-san, fuck it hurts,” you shut your eyes tight, san caresses your face, leaving kisses everywhere. you move your hands to your mouth, hiding your moans. it hurts so good but you feel like your legs are being amputated.

“shh, baby it’ll feel good, i promise. i’m almost in— fuck, don’t hide yourself from me.” he moans. he’s already sweating and you feel him twitch between your legs.

“wish you would love yourself the way i love you. you give me life, baby. you make me a man.” he moans, he’s already fucking you at a quicker pace. his small talk and compliments distracted you from the pain. the pain turns to pleasure as san licks your neck and kisses your soft spot.

“san— feel like im gonna- it feels like i have to pee,” you’re concerned. it feels like a cramp, but not the painful kind. san brushes his fingertips along your lower stomach, pointing to where you feel the knot.

“right here? hm?” you nod.

“let it go, baby. let your body loose. you’re gonna cum.”

how does he know so much about female anatomy?

he’s slowing down his pace, pulling out of you so you could come down from your first orgasm. he bends down to kiss you again. this time, his kiss is slow, breathy, and soft.

“san, that felt amazing. but you didn’t cum..?”

“i don’t have to, baby. this is about you, my love.”

———————

hope this was good!! thanks for requesting!! 🫶🏻

#kpop smut #kpop #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez san #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez atiny #atinyateez #san x reader #choi san #san ateez

[faith369]

dbf!sugardaddy!price (a continuation of this)

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!reader

Warnings: age gap (reader is in their early 20s) suggestive, mdni, nsfw

You stood in front of the door, your clothes felt uncomfortably wet on your body , luckily the carport of the door gave you protection from the rain. When you had left the house 30 minutes ago, the sun was still shining, and no sign of the rain shower that was about to come down was to be seen. The weight of John's wallet laid in your hand, the feeling of the soft leather in your palm, gave you a sense of comfort. He had forgotten it a few days ago after paying your dad a visit to watch some footballmatch. You hesitated to push down the cold metal of the doorbell. In all honesty, you hoped he wasn‘t home, you weren‘t too keen on seeing him again after your dad's birthday. After you waited for a few minutes, your heart feeling like it would jump out of your chest at any moment, and no one had opened the door, relief washed over you, and you turned to leave.

"Wait,“ John's voice bolted through you like a lightning strike. You faced him, unsure of what to say your mindgoing blank. "Um, dad told me to bring you your wallet.“ Your eyes were trained on your shoes, you wouldn't risk having to look into the deep blue of his eyes, especially knowing you'd get lost in it or rather drown. Price furrowed his brows, seeing the way you stood there. “Did you walk here?” you just nodded in response to his question not trusting yourself with words. "You're shaking. Come on in.“ you stepped inside the warm house it smelled like pine and ciggars, it smelled like him. A little jolt of electricity went through you when you felt John's hand on yours as you handed him his wallet. “I could've picked that thing up, Love didn't have to come here and get drenched by the rain. I don't want to be the reason you're going to come down with a cold”. You tried to let the fact that he just called you love not get to your head and just quietly follow his lead to the kitchen. He made you sit down at in one of the chairs, even tho you didnt want to you just wanted to go home and hide yourself.

The kitchen furniture was made out of dark hardwood. Price brought you a towel to at least dry off your hair, the silence that filled in the room was an uncomfortable one. You still didn't dare looking him in the eyes and instead opted to look at the towel that you had laid in front of you after being done drying off your hair. The way you felt for him was confusing and the only clear thought that your mind was able to form was the fact that you shouldn't but you wanted to be with him. The deep clearing of a throat pulled you out of your thoughts "About what happened a few weeks ago, I'm really sorry, this shouldn't have happened, and I also shouldn't have left you there I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.“ You stayed silent for a few moments, not knowing how to respond to his words. „I...I liked what you did.“ Your cheeks burned. You didn't know why you had to be honest; you should've just told him that it was fine and forgotten, but the fact that he bought you the bag and initiated a kiss made you brave and maybe just a bit hopeful that he'd do it again.

You could feel his weight shift on the wood floors as he came over, you felt small at the way he towered over you. John's hand came to caress your face, his warm skin felt good against your cold one. "You really shouldn't say stuff like this to a man, Hun. Particularly not to your dad's friend, you have no idea how hard that makes me". His voice sounded strained a hint of guilt hushed through you, him being in a moral dilemma wasn't your intention but you still found yourself unbuckling his belt, a new-found confidence running through you at the words he just let out. "Fuck, you really shouldn't-.“ A deep growl left his lips before he could finish the sentence. The feeling of your pretty lips wrapped around his cock made him grab your still damp hair. You could feel a few drops of pre cum on your tongue as you licked over the slit of his throbbing length, his grip tightened when you lowered your head even further, but he was too big to fully take in. Suddenly Price yanked your head away, still looking down at you, but this time with a dangerous glint in his eyes, one that made an unsettling feeling creep up your spine, but at the same time you clenched your legs together. "Oh, big mistake, love. Do you really think you can just do that?” His movements as he lifted you up in his arms were carefully planned, still keen on not hurting you, but his voice had an undertone that made you shiver in both anticipation and a hint of fear. “W..what are you doing” you swallowed as he carried you through his big house. "M' going to show what happens when you want to play with a real man, love.“

Taglist: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @thera-daydreams @kittycawn @buckybarnessweetheart @katzarantos

-Requests are open <333

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #john price x you #captain price x female reader #captain price x you #captain price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #john price smut #john price x f!reader #john price x reader #john price cod #call of duty modern warfare #faith writes #dbf!sugardaddy!price #dbf!price #captain price fluff

[dirtysvthoughts]

under the neon lights

tags/warnings: smut, pwp, boyfriend! jihoon, switch! jihoon & reader, at the universe factory (cause why not), dick sucking, some dirty talk, pet names (honey, baby, etc.), some fluff at the beginning, based off that one welive (as seen in the photos cause he looked to fucking good 😩)

word count: 1.4k

notes: happy birthday to the man who has been constantly and consistently wrecking my bias list for almost 5 years 🤍 words can’t express how much i love jihoon, he works so hard and deserves so much - i hope he gets to relax a little and receives so much love and the best head on his special day 🥹 but in all seriousness, i really do love and admire him - happy birthday jihoon!! without further ado, enjoy besties! thank you to @wongyuseokie for helping me come up with the title!

11:40 p.m.

in 20 minutes it would be the 22nd, and you would get to celebrate the love of your life’s birthday. you were very excited, but you were hoping jihoon would for once - decide to take a night out of his studio and relax for a bit. but knowing him, he would be at the universe factory if he got the chance, and it would be hard to persuade him otherwise.

so that’s where you are currently, sitting in your boyfriend’s lap while he sits in his chair, scrolling and clicking through different audio files on his desktop, compiling items together. your hands softly stroke the ends of his hair, not sure if the humming coming out of his mouth was from your movements or if he was thinking to himself. your eyes momentarily flit to the digital clock on lower right side of the screen, the time getting close to 11:45 pm. you tap jihoon’s shoulder twice to get his attention.

“hmmm?” he responds, still looking at his desktop.

“hoon, why don’t you shut everything down for right now? there’s only a few minutes left until your birthday, and i had a few ideas in mind..” you begin to trail off as you wrap your hand around his bicep, legs tightening together as you feel how strong he is.

jihoon sighs. he appreciates that you were trying to make more out of his birthday, but he always saw it as just another day. of course he appreciated all the love he received, but he didn’t want things to become such a big fuss. “babe, you know you don’t have to make any extra effort.. just this is enough - me, you, my music, and this ambiance,” he gestures to the turquoise colored lights filling the dark studio.

“i know, i know, but i just wanna make sure i celebrate you in the best way i can. that’s how much you mean to me baby,” you kiss jihoon’s cheek and he can’t help the blush that makes its way on his face. he intertwines your hands with his as he kisses it, your body moving closer toward his touch.

“you’re the best, you know that don’t you?” he asks, looking into your eyes. you nod your head as you shrink into his body, loving the way he envelops around you. there are a few moments of silence but after, jihoon’s mind quickly remembers what you said earlier.

“what did you mean by ideas?”

“hm? what ideas?” you question a little confused.

“remember, you said there were only a few minutes left until my birthday and you said you had a few ideas in mind. those ideas.”

you quickly bite your lip, getting excited at what you had practically daydreamed even before you got to the universe factory. for the longest, you wanted to give your boyfriend the messiest head in his workplace, especially attracted to the thought that no one would walk in. it would just be you two giving him the pleasure he so rightfully deserved.

“well, one idea involves both of us on the couch,” you hinted, pointing in the direction of the soft large leather piece. you avoid eye contact with jihoon as you play with the hem of his black shirt. “we could see what happens from there, but that’s the first step.”

jihoon still couldn’t tell what you were planning, but he couldn’t deny the sudden urge in his body to get up and move. he pats your thigh, motioning with his hand for you to stand up. after you stand, he walks over to the couch and you follow behind him - but when jihoon takes a seat, you promptly kneel on the floor, making sure your body was front and center in relation to your boyfriend.

the second your knees hit the floor, that’s when things finally click for jihoon. “that’s what she meant..” he thinks to himself, but his face doesn’t do a good job of hiding his discovery, in which you quickly take notice.

“guess you figured it out now, huh?” you tease, slowly rubbing your hands across his thighs. “i’ve been thinking about this for a while now.. going down on you in your workplace,” you lean your head against his thigh, innocent eyes staring into his intrigued gaze.

jihoon inhales sharply as your fingers delicately dance across the lower half of his body, dangerously approaching his crotch. you start to palm him through his pants, his breathing becoming shuddered as he grows harder with every touch and graze.

your hands finally reach the waistline of his pants, wanting to finally get what you’ve been waiting for. “can i take these off, honey?” you muse sweetly, your still innocent eyes making jihoon crave for more. he nods in response, “go ahead,” a breathless whisper leaving his lips.

with his help, you pull jihoon’s pants and boxers down to his ankles, revealing his growing, slightly leaning dick, with a perfect red tip to match. “mmm, so big and all for me to taste,” you lick your lips as you inhale his scent, moaning even more at how attractive your lover is.

your lips finally make their way down to his tip, giving jihoon a little kitten lick. a smile makes its way on your face as he groans out, his hands flying to reach the nape of your neck. you give him some more kitten licks, each one causing more beads of cum to spill out, jihoon’s breathing speeding up a bit.

“shit..” he breathes out, his eyes closed for a second and his head tilts back. using the opportunity, you take more of jihoon in your mouth, his full tip and then some now at the mercy of your tongue. the muscle begins to roam across his dick, your head starting to bob at the new intensity you were getting him off to.

you brace your hand on his thigh yet again, this time hollowing your cheeks out to take even more of him in. your nose pushes in closer as you can feel his tip finally near the back of your throat. jihoon doesn’t even try to lower how loud his moans were now, too engulfed in your presence to care about anyone or anything else.

“you naughty baby girl.. getting me off like the needy little thing you are,” his chuckle turns into another groan as you start to gag slightly on his dick. “taking me all the way to back of your throat.. mmm, such a good girl..”

if you weren’t wearing panties, you’re pretty sure you would’ve been dripping onto the floor by now. this was probably the best head you’ve given him and he had the dirty talk to match the experience.

then, jihoon starts to guide your pacing, causing you to go faster and to moan around him consistently. the hand still on the nape of your neck slightly grips at your skin, not hard but not soft either.

jihoon taps at your cheek a few moments later, bringing your attention to him as he begins to gasp for air, climax inching towards becoming reality.

“i’m- i’m gonna c-cum, baby.. think you can swallow it all for me?” you nod back, now intensely taking him in and out of your mouth, jihoon’s dick covered in your essence, your throat feeling the tiniest hint of sore - but did you really care? at this point you just wanted to give him the messiest head you possibly could.

it’s then that jihoon releases a high pitched moan and seconds later, cum is spilling into your throat, and you don’t hesitate to swallow every last drop. when he finishes emptying his load, your lick your lips teasingly and jihoon watches as your tongue roams the top half of your lips, lingering on thought of what i would be like to intertwine your tongues together so he could taste him on your mouth.

“my jihoonie tastes so good,” you giggle as you begin to stand up, reading his mind as you insert a legs in between his, kissing him square on his lips. jihoon holds your jaw as he deepens the kiss, both of you melting into each other. when you separate, you take a look again at the clock.

12:05 a.m.

“happy birthday, my love,” you whisper as you pull him in for another kiss, jihoon gently pushing you down onto the couch as he undoes your shorts.

“thank you baby, and i guess my gifts are just gonna keep coming over and over tonight,” he smirks. “can’t wait for you to come inside me.”

#seventeen smut #sv​thub #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #woozi smut #woozi fanfic #woozi imagine #woozi imagines #lee jihoon smut #lee jihoon imagines #lee jihoon imagine

[vixensbrainrotts]

Ran fucked up

Summary: so you found out that Ran is sorta-kinda using you for information, money and material for Tenjiku and took revenge before the damage was too heavy. Come the time when Ran was supposed to display results, he has some explaining to do…

Tropes: Tenjiku! Arc

Content warnings: none really, this time around its just kinda cracky, implied intentional accidents i guess? Idk let me know if there’s anything

Vixen’s two cents: I saw that prompt and JUMPED on the opportunity cause i had a silly little idea (lets pretend im not writing this in my theory of evolution lecture right now). This is such a funny prompt to me, I hope you enjoy. Prompt taken from @the-cypress-grove - prompt 131 (thank youuuuu) Remember that my requests are open if you have any ideas!

Rindou has never seen his older brother this nervous- actually, this is the first time he’s seen him nervous, ever. The man in question was pacing (to the best of his efforts) restlessly, and it was driving Rin insane. „It‘s your fault, you know?“ Rindou quipped from where he was sitting. „And you’re not fucking helping. Izana is going to rip me apart, if i survive Kakucho that is.“ Ran mutters more to himself than to his brother.

Rolling his eyes, Rindou decides that he has to take control of the situation. „Come on Ran, its best to get it over with fast, perhaps they’ll pity you because of your… state right now.“ Rindou makes his way to the door, shrugging on a cardigan and taking the keys out of the little dish by the door. The look that Ran gives him almost ignites a little bit of pity in Rindou. Almost.

20 minutes later the two of them are standing in front of the place of meeting and Ran is sweating bullets. „Come on..“ Rindou drawled again. Offended, Ran throws him a look „You’re not the one who’s about to get mauled.“ Ran crows in slight pain, but Rindou spared no sympathy, „Your fault.“ Rindou was the first to enter the area donning the heavenly kings‘s presence. He silently greet his colleagues with a curt wave, but felt a little puzzled when he didn’t receive one in return. The confused looks on their faces were almost comedic before Rindou noticed the distinct lack of brother by his side.

Rindou heaved a sigh and half-turns to face the entrance again, gesturing to the door for the Heavenly Kings to see. „He‘s coming, don’t worry.“ He assured and trudged on towards his place.

„Sit down Haitani.“ a sharp voice pierced the air as Izana spoke. A shiver ran down Rindou‘s spine, and all of a sudden he understood his brother‘s fear: Izana was scary as such, and blatantly terrifying when disappointed. Quickly, Rindou took a seat beside Mochi. Silence reigned after that. Not a word was spoken, not a breath was taken whilst they waited for Ran to enter.

Finally the tension broke when Ran walked through the door, his head low and limping slightly. „Were ya roughed up or something?“ Shion was the first to speak. „Well..“ Ran sounded a bit defeated as his voice trailed off, remaining standing at a respectable distance. „You’re here. And late at that.“, Izana‘s voice freezes the air as he speaks, „I hope for your sake that your little project proves to be as useful as you made it sound.“ Ran tries very hard to look anywhere but the Kings, instead trying to make eye-contact with his brother, but Rindou only raises his hands slightly in surrender and shoots him a look that says you brought yourself into this mess, im not gonna help you on this one.

„Do tell Ran. How‘s your little girlfriend doing, hm? Are you treating her well? Is the good service paying off? She give you somethin‘ yet?“ Shion has the gall to poke at Ran, stacking questions on him in a singsong tone. Despite the almost joking nature of the questions, they hang heavy in the air.

„I don’t think she likes me all that much right now.“ Ran finally says.

„What makes you think that?“ Kakucho is the one to speak this time, noticing Izana's annoyance and grasping the reigns of the conversation. Whilst he sounds genuinely concerned, Kakucho‘s half-blind eye does nothing to make Ran feel more comfortable, as he visibly shrinks beneath his gaze.

„She founded out.“ Ran breaks the news in a whisper, and the air around them changes into something much more alive, and much more electric. „What.“ Kakucho‘s voice is loud in stark contrast.

„She hit me with her car.“ Ran shrinks even further into himself when the guys surrounding him laugh. „Clever Girl!“ Shion quips between heaves of laughter, bracing himself against an also-snickering-Mucho who adds „What if it was an accident?“. Ran only shakes his head, face and neck ablaze with red as he puffs himself up against the humiliation. „She looked me dead in the eye and reversed!“ Laughter bounces off the walls once again.

#x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #ran x reader #ran #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani #tr rindou #tenjiku #tenjiku x reader #tr ran #tokyo rev x you #tokrev #tokyo manji revengers #tr content

[katiexpunk]

Little Mouse | Pairing biker!Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Summary:  Date night. Your favorite. You're dressed up and ready for a good time, only to find out that your sleazeball boyfriend is really just a jerk. Stood up and now alone in a bar on the bad side of town, you quickly come to realize you shouldn’t be there for more reasons than one. An unexpected savior to your shit night, a masked motorcycle rider quite literally saves your life, not caring whose blood was on his hands as a result. His only ask as a token of your appreciation? That you go for a ride with him. What could ever possibly happen? Rating: 18+ Minors DNI, like seriously, this shit is dark AF. I say this with love -- GTFO. Word count: 10K (yeah, we know, wtf) Warnings: Implied cheating (fuck her boyfriend) mentions of being stalked, suggestion of sexual assault/rape (not by Joel!), murder, blood, alcohol (reader is tipsy), switchblades, motorcycles, prey/predator complex, dom/sub, use of ‘little mouse, little one, baby’ also ‘sir and daddy.’ Fingering, female stimulation, dub-con, collaring, leather kink, mask kink, face-fucking, blowjob, praise kink, painful sex, choking, reader crawling on her knees, unprotected sex, brat taming, p in v, cowgirl, size kink, creampie, ownership kink, breeding kink. Authors Note: I AM SCREAMING. This was such a treat to work on with the lovely and talented @josephquinnswhore. This is my first collaborative fic, and the whole time Tay and I were just crying at how much we wish this version of Joel was real. This was truly a labor of love. Whether this is a hit or a flop, it doesn't matter to me, as I was lucky to get a sexy new friend out of it. Tay -- ilysm. Thanks for working on this with me. P.S. to my U.S. followers, you get this earlier than Saturday because it's already Saturday across the world, so enjoy your Friday night smut sesh.

The thudding noise of your fingers tapping against the hardwood of the bar makes for an easy outlet for your anxiety, although the woman next to you gives you an irritating look, obviously annoyed by the vibrations rolling their way down to her elbows resting on the bar top. 

Twenty minutes. That’s how long you’ve been sitting at this miserable bar, the Cadillac Lounge.

It's quite a shit little dive – you had expected something fancier, but your boyfriend insists it’s ‘one of the best’, citing their famous hot wings and heavy pours. If it was truly one of the best, then shouldn’t he be here by now. Where the fuck is he? 

In the 20 minutes that have passed since you got here, not only are you getting uncomfortable sitting at the bar by yourself, dodging glances from questionable patrons, but you've come to the conclusion that not only is he late, but he’s also a cheap bastard, and probably doesn’t think you deserve anything fancier. 

Hell–you're dressed way too nice to be in a bar of this caliber in a sketchy part of town you’d never been to before. It's loud outside, and some people in the bar are too drunk—too rowdy, yet the man behind the bar stays silent as he passes you your second dirty martini. A marvel they even know how to make a martini. His silence makes you think it’s an all-common occurrence in this place; a pretty girl at the bar by herself, waiting for some shitbag guy to walk through the door. 

The dress that clings to your body is one you bought specifically for this occasion; specifically for him – a mid-thigh-black leather dress – hoping he’d take you out somewhere nicer than a run-down bar where the stool legs were uneven and the television hardly caught reception. The soft material hugs every inch of you perfectly, and the spaghetti straps allow for plenty of cleavage to be seen. Your wallet aches as you remind yourself of the price of your black red-bottom heels; the effort you’d put into getting your nails manicured, and eyelashes done.

The floor is mismatched, an ugly shade of dark red wood that hasn't been cleaned in god knows how long; by the way your heels stick to the floor with each step, you can only assume it's been months, maybe even years. The pool tables in the back of the bar are dimly lit, and the floor surrounding them is a dark crème colored carpet, although there are plenty of stains, deep red and mustard yellow from wine and beer spilled in the ‘no drinking zone.’

A ping from your phone alerts you of a text message, and you stop your anxious tapping on the bar, almost dropping your phone onto the floor you were fumbling so fast to see what message you’d received. The woman two seats down finally adverts her irritated gaze from you.

Hey, not gonna make it tonight – I'm going to give Ashley a ride home from work, sorry to leave you hanging.

Ashley, as in his former ex-girlfriend, Ashley. He’s skipping out on date night to give his ex-girlfriend a ride home? What the actual fuck. 

You blink stupidly, the longer you stare at the screen the blurrier the words become. Tears gather in your lash line, and the letters melt together to become large black shapes, eventually becoming unrecognizable, but it’s too late to forget them; they’re ingrained into the back of your eyelids, and when you finally close your eyes, a few tears fall from the outer corners. 

What an asshole. You’re done. This is the last straw. 

You begin to furiously tap out a response to him, leaving nothing but little click click click echos in the air as you do. Hot tears streaming down your face, no doubt ruining your mascara, you hit send on your response. 

You know what – if you’re gonna give Ashley a ride home from work and leave me in this absolute shitshow of a bar, by myself, on OUR date night, you can fuck right off. We’re done. 

Jerk.

You drop your phone back into your purse, and your fingers instinctively grip around the stem of the glass in front of you. You haven't even taken a sip from it until now; the vodka is sharp and bitter, but it slides down your throat with ease. You angrily slam the $15 cocktail, with a mission in your mind. Get drunk and forget your douchebag boyfriend, er, ex-boyfriend. 

“Another,” you say, signaling to the oddly quiet bartender. Seriously, what’s with this guy? He eyes you down before finally nodding, and reaching out his hand to swipe the empty glass from in front of you.

As you sit there waiting, you realize that everything about you stands out, suggesting the way you obviously don't belong here – not in this bar, in this part of town, not even in this dress, the one that clings so perfectly to your frame, hugging your tits just right. You shift in the stool under you, beginning to feel uncomfortable, leather sticking to your now too-warm skin, sticky from your tears and the flush spreading from each martini you’d greedily consumed. 

Mr. Silent I don’t say anything bartender places your third martini in front of you. You take a sip in silence, attempting to forget about the reality you are currently in. 

Suddenly the low hum of the bar’s ambiance is interrupted by an unwelcome interloper. A man, reeking of booze, staffers toward you, his leering, yellow-twinged, bloodshot eyes filled with inappropriate lust as they shamelessly gaze at your breasts. “Hey there hic gorgeous,” he began, his breath a foul mix of whiskey and cigarettes, “looking awful sad over here, ya hic need some company?”

You stiffen, fingers lightly clenched around the stem of your martini glass, and shoot him a withering look. 

This guy is a walking cliche of all things repulsive, like a welcome sign to the shitty part of town you were in. With him closer now, you’re able to really get a good look at him – his dirty and oversized clothes hanging loosely on his skeletal frame, a foul body odor clinging to the material, eyes hungry. The mostly gray and thinning hair that remains on his balding head indicates he’s too old to be interacting with someone your age, and his leathery and wrinkled skin clearly tells the story of a life spent mostly in the bottom of a bottle.

With his tone, you’re able to understand his intentions clearly. You take another sip of your drink and manage to squeak out a pathetic response, one that has no real bite or purpose, “sorry…’m not interested.” The man sits on the empty stool next to you anyway, leering eyes still painfully obviously drinking you in. You gaze at the bartender as if to say a little help here, but it’s useless, he’s not going to be of any more service than what’s required. 

The full realization of the situation you’re in begins to wash over you – you need to leave. Now. 

You slam the cocktail and let out a sputtering cough as the vodka begins to make its way back up your throat, now tinged with the flavor of bile. You grip the edge of the bar and your knuckles bleach white as you try and fend off the sudden wave of nausea that hits you like a freight truck. 

 Maybe drinking three martinis in the span of less than half an hour wasn’t your brightest idea. 

The man drops his forearms to the bartop in front of you and begins to lean into your personal space, before spitting out “pretty thing like you, I bet you taste real fuckin hic good,” he says with a coy, husky laugh, making you shudder. Shivers shoot down your spine in alarm, the hairs on the back of your neck standing in full salute, your instinctual response warning you of the looming threat.

His eyes are dark and his pupils are unnaturally dilated, the thought makes your skin crawl as you note he’s not only a drunk, but also probably under the influence of some kind of drug, which uproots the fear of this interchange turning violent; a dark scenario where your rejection makes him angry and unpredictable. 

The voice in your head shouts at you once more – LEAVE. 

You stand and push your rickety, uneven stool backward, not even bothering to pay for your drinks before you grab your purse and storm out of the building, fighting to move your shaky legs fast as the bottom of your heels stick to the floor once more. You ignore the shouts of the barman telling you to close your tab, but you ignore them. Now he says something. 

Once outside, the night air is brisk, but a welcome refreshment from the revolting encounter. You pause to take a look around at the world around you. The street practically screams danger to a young woman, let alone a drunk young woman. The dodgy streetlights that are functioning emit a hazy glow and don’t do much in the way of helping to light the path around you. 

You walk around the corner and steal a glance behind you before you rummage through your purse, opening the golden clasp, it’s cool on your fingertips and the sensation only adds to your growing anxiety. Your fingers fumble around in panicked haste to find your phone. Finally. You sigh a breath of relief as your fingers grasp the cold metal. You jab at the screen, but quickly find that it’s dead. Shit, shit, shit. Your last sliver of safety snuffed out, leaving you alone – you hope – in the unforgiving night. 

You think you might be sick as the wave of nausea returns. Your belly emits a low grumble and wait… fuck. No, you really are gonna be sick. Your pace begins to quicken as you scramble to find a place to throw up, away from the peering eyes of the residents who live on the wasteland streets that surround you. 

You stumble your way into the back alley of the bar, and the world begins to spin. Your heart pounds in sync with your dizzying head – the sickening laughter from the creep at the bar still ringing in your ears, deafening you to the life surrounding you. The grimy brick walls of the alley offer you little comfort, the rough texture of them leaving small indents on your hand as you lean into the wall for support, and empty your stomach onto the asphalt beneath you. You cough at the secondary burn of the alcohol that now sears your throat for a second time tonight. 

Although your stomach is empty, you continue to dry heave, bent over at your waist and staring at the rocks beneath you, when you hear the thud of loud footsteps behind you. Before you can register what’s happening, a grotesque shadow looms over you, and his smell hits you. 

Oh no. 

“Came out here to make it easy hic f’me, didn’t you, princess,” he snarls. “You knew what you were doin’, wearin’ this leather piece, didn’t ya babydoll?” He lurches out to grab you, but before he can, another figure materializes out of the darkness. His silhouette was hard and sharp against the pale light illuminating the alley, an unlikely savior in this hellish scene. Before you can even blink, he has the creep pinned up against the wall, his large forearm pressing against his throat. “You leave this nice girl alone, yeah?” he says, voice dark and menacing. He presses harder against the man's throat, “or I’ll make you fuckin’ regret it,” he threatens. Your savior spoke evenly, although there was an obvious underlying tone of threat muffled behind the black motorcycle helmet he wore.

“Chill out, man…was jus trying to have a good ti–” before he can even finish the thought consisting of violating you, your savior draws his head back and smashes it forward, the helmet connecting with a sickening crack against the creep's nose. A sharp, visceral sound reverbs through the alley, catching the attention of a few passers-by. They pause to look at what’s happening, but quickly keep moving, knowing better than to intervene. The now bloody man lets out a startled yelp, his hands reaching up instinctively to grab his now very broken nose. 

“What’d you just fuckin’ say t’me?” Your savior grumbles. “You do this often, huh? Come out here into back alleys, whip out your limp little cock, and try and show pretty ladies a good time,” he huffs. 

“I’ll show you a good time,” he says, snaking his free hand into his back pocket. There came a click, a sound as sharp and quick as a viper's bite, and the creep audibly whimpers, knowing what made it. There it was– a switchblade. 

The creep continues to gravel with the man holding him captive in his strong grasp, “listen, man, I was just messin’ around…I swear! I’ll leave her alone, you can have her, fuck, please just let me go! I promi–” before he can finish the sentence, the silver blade was already plunged up into his ribs. The sound of the gurgling man choking on his own blood catches your attention, a result of your savior's expert maneuver with the blade. Still holding the man flush against the wall with his broad upper body, he uses his free hand to open the visor of his helmet. Eyes glaring into the man’s now, he pushes the blade in deeper as says, “Oh, I will,” and a masked grin washes across his face as the crimson red blood begins to pour out onto his gloves and the ground below; your savior moving his feet as not to dirty his boots. 

With a swift movement, he releases the blade, and you watch in shock as the man thuds to the floor, sticky red blood stains his shirt and begins to pool on the pavement below, body limp, eyes glued open like he never saw it coming. 

Is this really fucking happening right now, you think to yourself, rationalizing you’re probably hallucinating or something.

You watch as the man reaches a gloved hand to pull his visor, a smear of blood left behind as he pulls it down, hiding what little identity he had revealed to the creep. He turns his frame to face you and begins to stride forward, little drops of crimson falling from his gloves onto the floor by his sides as he does. 

Eyes wide open like a deer about to be hit by a truck, you stare at him – your savior? You doubt it.

He just murdered a man in cold blood and told him he would have you. Surely that must mean you were going to succumb to the same fate or worse. Your fight or flight response kicks in, deciding on flight, and you begin to quickly back away from the man and the scene that just unfolded in front of you like a fucking horror film. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, narrowing the gap between your bodies.

You don’t respond as you continue your trek backward, gait unsteady as you try and keep your heels and ankles steady in your six-inch stilettos. Scared, you step back until your body unexpectedly meets the cool, hard metal of a motorcycle, causing you to let out a small squeak.

His strides are large and it’s not long before he has you trapped against his body and the motorbike; leaving you nowhere to run. 

“Cat got your tongue, little mouse?” The man’s question is rhetorical and humorous. His large figure looks over you, a leather jacket clings to his broad shoulders, preventing you from looking anywhere but him. 

You sure feel like a little mouse – small and defenseless. He tilts his head, looking down at you curiously as if you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. 

And you are. 

“You – you – killed that man,” your heart was in your throat as you spoke, unsure if your whispered accusation traveled the short distance to his ears.

“Yeah, little mouse, I did. Creep like that – trust me, he had it coming,” he says, voice muffled but sure. 

His large palm begins to rise to your line of sight, and your heart sinks to your stomach as you stare at the blood now ever so close to your face. He pauses before he drops most of the bloody fingers into his fist, leaving but one clean finger out as if to point to something. He drags it over your cheek, down the razor edge of your jaw, and uses it to tilt your chin up to face him.

“You know, I probably saved your life – really should be thankin’ me,” he says, presumably gazing back at you, face still hidden from view by the helmet. 

“And you can start by comin' for a ride." 

You gasp. 

He’s got to be fucking joking. 

“I promise, you’re safe with me, alright?” He says, voice soft this time. 

Right. Safe with the dude who just murdered another dude in the alley behind some sleazeball bar. 

You can tell his words aren't a request.

Everything about his demeanor is commanding. 

He demands attention.

Your attention. 

Perhaps it was the heartache or the way he just saved your life, maybe even the three martinis you’d smashed in a short duration of time, your rational thoughts impaired from the alcohol content flowing through your blood, you internally agree to his demands. And for some unfathomable reason you can’t comprehend, his voice melts you like butter, his attention making you feel special.

A pang of arousal shoots through you.

“Okay…” you say, voice sweet like honey, but hesitant. If you’d kept him waiting long, he doesn’t mention it. 

“Good girl,” he says, nodding to the back of the bike. 

He knew you were an obedient one. He could tell. He reads your emotions like braille, it is as if he can feel every single thought running through your brain. 

You need a protector, a savior, someone to tell you what to do and care for you. Someone who would do anything for you. You need him. 

His hands hover over your waist, guiding you to the back of the bike, a safeguard, he would catch you if you slipped. As if he would ever let you fall. 

You swing your leg over the back of the seat, sending your already tight dress higher up onto your hips as you do. The motorcycle's leather seat is cold against your inner thighs, a welcomed reprieve from the growing heat there. His hungry eyes watch as you adjust yourself, slowly gazing at the bareness of your legs, now prickled with small goosebumps in anticipation and response to the chill in the air.  “Here little mouse, take this,” he says, wiping the bloody gloves onto his tight-fitting denim jeans before taking off his leather jacket and handing it to you, revealing a white mesh tank top that clings to his sun-kissed skin. You can’t help but notice that his shoulders are littered with freckles, all over his toned arms and shoulders, and the back of his neck. You find that small detail about such a harsh man a little endearing.

“Leather on leather,” he says, pausing to eye you up and down, “looks good on you,” he finishes. He places his hand on your bare thigh, his touch causing you to hold your breath, making sure you’re stable before he too mounts the bike. 

“Hold on to me real tight,” he commands. You follow his instructions, your arms wrapping firmly around his waist, your fingers coming to a clasp as you scoot forward, your breasts pressed firmly against his warm and inviting back. 

“Atta girl,” he praises.

Fuck. His words go straight to your already aroused core. 

He couldn’t be sure if it was a button from the jacket pressing against him, or your nipples, but he decided it was the latter considering how cold you’d been moments beforehand. 

The thought causes his cock to stir in his jeans. His mind can’t help but wonder, with your soft hands all over his toned body, rousing deep and vulgar thoughts in his head. 

Your sweet little palms, what would they feel like wrapped around his—

He pushes the thought down, adjusts himself slightly, and turns to look over his shoulder at you as the bike begins to rumble to life. He jabs the kickstands with his heel and faces forward once more, palms firmly grabbing the clutch and throttle on the handlebars. 

The loud sound of the engine and the rhythmic vibration it gives stimulate your now aching clit. The only barrier between your sopping cunt and the bike was the sheer lace panties that did nothing to stop your slick from leaking onto his leather seat.

With your body glued to his, you both tear through the inky black of the night. It was apparent that this side of town not only lacks security, but safety too, the buildings are all run down and cars seem to be left on cinder blocks, being stripped down for parts and left to rust. For the first time tonight, you’re grateful you’re not alone – grateful to be with him. 

It seems the government had also neglected the quality of the roads, loose gravel flings out of the crevices of the back tire of the motorbike, and you grasp on tight to avoid the giant potholes that have now become a major problem on this one street. Without much warning, although you could have predicted it would happen, the bike jerked violently beneath you, the rear tire hitting a pothole with an unforgiving thud. 

You gasp and your grip around his waist loosens in surprise. The sudden jolt sends your hand sliding down, and before you can correct it, your fingers brush against his already painfully stiff cock. He freezes in response. The feel of his hard bulge causes you’re already sticky folds to dampen further. You grazed the area for less than a few seconds, eventually finding your common sense and snatching your hand back up to grab your wrist, but the tension in his body tells you he felt you do it. That he liked it. You did, too. 

You have no idea where he’s taking you, and though the streets of the unfamiliar town were a labyrinth to you, he seemed to navigate them with ease. Not before after, the bike comes to a slow as he pulls up to a nondescript warehouse.

Once inside, you take in the smudge and the grime of the shop. There was a surprising order to the chaos around you. The walls, washed with a pea-like hue of green, were the perfect backdrop for the display of tools in every size and shape imaginable, arranged perfectly above the wooden workbench. The air stank of oil, sawdust, and metal, but there was a certain comfort to it, a testament to the hours of sweat and hard work spilled within its confines. 

With the two wheels of the bike are now stationary beneath you, he kills the engine. He swings his leg off to stand at the side of the bike. He offers his hand to steady you as you get off yourself, leaving a little wet spot on the seat from your slick as you do. 

You know you’re aroused, but you don’t seem to notice just how much, but he sure does, eyes glued to the mark of you. The sight makes him shift and he adjusts himself to accommodate for the shrinking amount of space.

Taking in the surroundings, you do a tiny circle, before stopping facing him. 

“Why – why, am I here?” you cautiously ask, not sure if you want the real answer. 

“To say thank you t’me, properly, little mouse,” he rasps, voice dripping with suggestion. 

You wonder what it means to thank him properly. A surge of desire courses through you like a bolt of lightning, your body responding with intensity at the thought. 

He takes a step forward, and his overwhelming presence engulfs you, bringing with it the scent of musk, twinged with sweat and the sickly sweet copper smell of the blood left on his hands. 

It’s absolutely intoxicating. 

In your haze, your fingers reach out to touch the cool plastic of the black tinted helmet visor, curiosity gnawing at you for just a peek of the man that had you enthralled; you hadn’t even seen his face and yet you were completely dripping for him. 

Before you could catch a peek, his fingers gripped your hand tightly in warning.  He tilts his head to the side as if you’d really just tried that.

“What do ya think you’re doin’, little mouse?” The warning in his voice only made the need between your thighs that much stronger. 

“I—I just wanted to...” you whine pathetically, trailing off as your mind begins to fill with obscene thoughts, rendering you unable to finish even a single sentence. 

Although you can't directly see his face, you can feel his harsh stare burning you to your core. His firm grip around your wrist causes your nipples to harden in response to the touch. Everything in your vision blurs suddenly, the room nothing more but a mere haze, you almost don’t feel the right grip on your hips as he maneuvers your body, pushing your chest over his bike. A small noise of discomfort leaves your lips as the fuel cap of the bike digs into your breastbone. It hurts, but you don’t complain, not wanting this to end before it’s begun.

With his hard cock now pressed firmly against your ass, one hand grips your waist and the other holds the back of your neck. His fingers are cool and they send a shiver down your spine at his touch, his grip tightens on the back of your neck, holding you in place – trapped. 

He hadn’t ever let a woman touch his bike, let alone ride with him; you should be grateful. 

He was doing something for you.

“You’ll take what I give you, little mouse, not a sliver more, got it?” He growls. 

You mewl under him; your non-verbal response only adds to your lack of cooperation, in his eyes, you were challenging him to make you submit to him.

He leans down, chest now flush with the curve of your back. You don’t dare to look back at him, feeling your legs tremble as he pushes his hard erection further into the exposed skin of your ass. Your leather dress had ridden right up, making for easy access, which his thick fingers happily take advantage of as they trace the thin lace of your panties.  

He can hardly pry his eyes away from the now-drying stain your slick had left on his seat, and now here you were; pressed under him and fucking soaking for him. 

“Now listen here, little mouse. When I speak, I expect you to answer me, or this all stops. Got it?” he says. 

You tremble at his words and pout as he halts the small glide of his fingers along the lace between your folds. Caught up in the sensation, you don’t respond quickly enough.

“Answer me,” he commands while pulling his hand away and landing a swat over your pussy, the sensation on your clit sends a little shock through your body.

Senses returning to your head now, you nod frantically, eyes widening as you stutter, “Y-yes, sir. I understand.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your response, his fingers resume their tortuous motion of gliding over your still-clothed folds, only taking a moment to recover from the moment you called him sir. It serves a bigger purpose, a large part to play in your dynamic. He rests his helmet on your shoulder and lets out a husky sigh, his own need beginning to catch up with him. 

“How badly do you want it, little mouse?” He asks, a hint of challenge in his voice, hoping to get a ride out of you, and frustrate you further. 

“Fuck–ppp, please touch me…I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll do whatever you say,” you say, realizing your begging is no better than the creeps back in the alley.

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you, finally soothing the gnawing, aching need inside you. He traces his thick finger over the crease between your folds before he hooks the edge, and pushes the soiled fabric to the side. Your cunt has a visible sheen from the slick that’s spilled over from all of his teasing; a warm invitation for his fingers, your inviting hole sucks two of them in and clenches around him. 

“So wet for me already, little mouse, fuck–,” he trails off. You moan in response, knowing he’ll expect an answer to his comment. He grins as he skillfully curls his fingers inside you to meet the spongey soft texture of your g-spot. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, every prod stretching you, getting you ready for him. 

He can feel you crawling towards the cliff of your orgasm, but he's gonna take his time with you.

He knows you want to cum, that's obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come. 

“Stop thinkin’ so damn loud,” he gruff voice circulates inside your head and descends down to your core, sending you spiraling.

Your fingers struggle to find purchase on anything as he continues to drive you closer and closer to your release, fingers prodding in and out, only leaving periodically to circle your clit before going back to their home inside you. The line between pain and pleasure has blurred; being bent over the bike is starting to get uncomfortable, and your neck is starting to ache from his hard grip that keeps you from slouching over. The blood is beginning to rush to your head, the lack of circulating air in the building and your lust cause your skin to heat, and small beads of sweat begin to form on your chest and forehead. 

You're so, so close. When was he going to put a stop to this? 

As if to read your mind once more, he says, “I know, baby. Doing so good. Concentrate on me,” his words bring you back to your surroundings, drawing you away from your demented brain's imprisonment of unease.

Your legs tremble against his groin, and the sweet moans that leave your lips echo through the workshop. You think he might, but he doesn’t tell you to shut up, he doesn’t cover your mouth. The pretty little noises coming from your throat only urge him to ram his fingers into you at a quicker pace, as if it were his personal mission to make you finally come. 

Your mind goes foggy as your whole body stiffens. Your fingers find a tight grip on the leather seat of the bike and mindlessly, you dig your nails into the material, creating several crescent moon-shaped marks into the leather as you do. He rides out your orgasm with you and doesn’t stop until you totally soften under him, legs weak and shaking from overstimulation and pain from the position you’re in.

Now satisfied, you catch a glimpse of your handiwork on the seat. The once perfect material was now marked by your desperation. 

“Tsk, tsk, little mouse – markin’ up my bike left and right tonight,” he says, voice firm, “I ‘otta punish you for that,” he scolds.  

It was already too much, the position he had you in, his taunting and tormenting. What would a punishment look like? you wonder. 

“‘M sorry, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you sputter, head still dizzy from your release. 

Still inside you, he pushes his fingers aggressively deeper into your hole and he holds them there. The noise is obscene; the squelching of his fingers pushing into you, slick dripping down your legs, coating his fingers. It only made him hungry for more. Beneath the helmet, he licks his lips, clenching his teeth as his eyes roll into the back of his head. What he wouldn’t do for a taste of you. 

“You're gonna be,” he says. The emphasis on his promise he makes you tremble, anticipation eating you from the inside out. 

“Gonna come for me again, little mouse,” he orders. 

Fuck. No. “I–I can’t, it’s too much, I’m too sensitive, and my, fuck, my legs hurt like this,” you say. 

Your words fall on deaf ears, as he ignores your pleading. You were going to come again, and he was going to make sure of that. 

He inserts a third finger and continues to fuck into you. His thumb reaches out to your clit, the small amount of pressure has you lurch forward with a yelp, the nub already extremely sensitive from your first release. The hand that’s gripped the back of your neck jerks backward harshly, forcing you back into his body. He wouldn’t allow you to do that, try to escape him. 

Holding you into his chest, he reaches his free hand around and finds your clit once more. His fingers move antagonizing slowly as he makes soft circles around it, his pace decreasing, the overstimulation going with it. Your pain begins to flourish into something softer, and he once again has you crawling the stairs to your climax. You fight the temptation to jerk your hips, to fuck yourself stupid on his thick fingers, and make yourself come all over his already, soaked and pruned fingers. The added texture to his fingers adds to the sensations you’re experiencing.

“Bein’ such a good girl, there you go,” he sets a stable pace, murmuring to you, rubbing sweet circles onto your clit, and resuming fucking his fingers into you, “gonna give my mouse what she needs.” 

“P-please let me come,” the plea leaves your desperate lips like a need, a key factor to your survival, like if you didn’t come again you were sure to die. The coil inside of your lower stomach winds once more, and your legs continue to shake, the only thing keeping you upright was the strength of his arms and his fingers unraveling you. Each swipe of his thumb on your clit is calculated, like he’s figured your body out already. He knows you’re close, the way you’re trembling and babbling senselessly, the way your hole clenches around his fingers, contracting to tighten around him to keep him inside. 

“You can come, little mouse – come for me, baby, soak my fingers,” he says. 

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like you were nothing but a pool of gas ignited with a flame. Your knees buckle, and he holds you tight to his chest. His sticky fingers leave your hole and away from your swollen clit. 

“Such a good girl,” he praises in your ear. You revel in it, letting his words soak deep into you to your bones. He moves his slick-coated fingers up to your lips, “Now clean ‘em for me,” he commands, once again leaving no room for there to be a question about what he wants. You do as he orders. He presses his fingers into your inviting mouth, and you lap at your release and suck him dry.

He doesn’t give you but a minute to recover to catch your breath, now satisfied with your cleaning job, before he grabs a fistful of hair to spin you around, gently, but assertively. Your eyes drop down to his waist, and you see his hand on his leather belt. He begins to unbuckle it, the metal making a small clank as he releases its clasp, and yanks it off, leaving a whip sound in its wake. 

You watch in anticipation as he uses both hands to make a small loop in the belt. You swallow your anticipation as you realize what he’s doing. It’s not long before he has it perfectly sized to accommodate your head, and he slips it onto your crown, and begins to lower it around your neck. Once there he secures it tightly, leaving enough room for you to breathe, but tight enough to feel its presence before tugging at the makeshift collar and deeming it satisfactory. 

“Get on your knees, little mouse, he gruffs. “ Told you I’d punish ya for what you did to my bike,” he continues, voice lusty and low.  

You pause, slightly dumbstruck. 

Is he serious? 

The little voice that gnawed at you to leave the bar earlier in the night comes back in full force and tells you that he most definitely was and that you’d be wise to listen. 

You drop to the cold cement floor, knees meeting the harsh ground coated with little flecks of sawdust and grease. Your perky tits were practically spilling out of your leather dress at this point. You don’t care. You don’t even care about the bruises that were now forming from the position you were in; you want to be a good girl, give him what he wants – impress him. You were ready to worship at the altar of the man who had saved your life. 

He watches you and palms at his hard cock before turning on his heels to walk away. 

The fuck. Where’s he going?

He walks over to the side of the shop. This side was more empty than the primary workspace, but primarily occupied by a file cabinet in the corner and an aging bed, presumably only used for mid-workday naps. There’s an old rusted heater next to the bed, too close to the wall for comfort, you wonder how many cold late evenings this man had spent in this workshop, every little detail gave you some insight into his life, it felt familiar. Like you know him, that he was just an ordinary man; although you know he was far more intriguing.

He pauses by the grimy mattress. His fingers fumble for the button and zipper of his jeans, and he slowly undoes them, letting them fall to the floor, finally releasing the giant cock that was restrained behind the denim fabric. He takes himself in hand, tilts his head down, and spits for lubrication. 

“Crawl to me, little mouse,” he says, dark gaze fixed on yours, “come get this cock,” he adds, stroking his length up and down, letting his weight lean onto the back wall of the shop as he gawks. 

Crawl to him. 

The words pierce you like a bullet, tearing through your flesh until you have no choice but to tend to the wound to stop the bleeding. You're his little pet, and you’ll do anything to make him happy.  

You tilt forward, placing both palms on the ground so you’re on all fours. Eyes transfixed on him, and god, his cock, you begin to move, slowly crawling the distance of the shop. The already barely secured fullness of your tits gives way with the change in angle, allowing them to spill completely out of your dress. The sensation of the cold ground under your hands and knees, the cool air drying the stickiness on your inner thighs, and the thickness of the makeshift collar on your throat spur you on. You begin to crawl faster, needing to get to him sooner, needing to taste him. 

Once in front of him, he pushes himself off the wall and comes to stand directly in front of you. He continues to stroke at his cock, and you salivate at the sight of his angry red tip weeping beads of pre-cum, veins boldening from the blood rushing through him. You want so badly to touch him, but you wait for him to give you the okay to do so, your palms patiently resting on your knees.

“You want this, little mouse,” he asks, already knowing the answer to his own question. “It’s all yours, come get it, baby,” he says, giving a nod of permission. 

You reach up to take the weight of his heavy cock in your hands, and you admire the way your fingers barely touch. You stroke his length a few times, mouth watering at how silky soft his skin feels and the warmth it exudes. You look up at him from under your lashes and playfully dart your tongue out. You flatten it and lick a teasing stripe up to the tip of him, maintaining his gaze as you do. 

“If you know what’s good for ya, little mouse, you won’t fucking tease me,” he says, the words still bite, but you can tell he’s losing his resolve. As much as he wants to pretend he’s in control, you’re the one with all the cards. 

You slide the tip of him into your waiting mouth, wrapping your lips around, feeling a slight sting in the corners as they stretch to accommodate him. You stay shallow on his length at first, working up to wet him with your spit. After a moment, you feel confident you have enough lubricant to fully take him.

You begin to pick up your pace, allowing his cock to glide down your throat, kissing the back of it as you bob up and down. He lets out a satisfied sound, and you hum in response, savoring the taste of salt and musk that dance over your tastebuds. 

Using the makeshift collar as leverage, he wraps the free material around his fist and pulls it taught, holding you with his cock stuffed down your windpipe. Your eyes begin to water, it’s so much, but you stay put. Spit begins to pool at the corners of your mouth, long dribbles of it spilling out over your lips and down your chin to your chest. 

“Fuck, little mouse – so good, baby. Being such a good hole for me,” he praises. 

His words encourage you to open wider, letting your jaw relax as you do. He pulls the leather strap tighter until you feel him deep in the back of your throat, your lips wrapped obscenely around the base of him, nose flush against his skin. He’s so deep you can hardly breathe. He holds you there a moment longer until you begin to tear up. 

He slightly retreats, allowing you to catch your breath, your lips resting just around the tip of his girth. You look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mascara smudged, and he smirks. He was fucking wrecking you, and he loves every second of it. 

He allows you a second to catch your breath, before he once again pulls at the belt, sending you right back down to the base of him. He lets out a deep, guttural groan in response. He could feel your heartbeat on the tip of him this deep, and it was almost too much. He pulls back and fully retreats out of you this time, bringing with him strings of saliva that fall onto you pristine but red-marked skin.

“Up,” he says, finally allowing you the opportunity to find relief from the cement that turned your  knees and shins cherry red. You do as he says, pausing momentarily to brush the debris from your flesh before looking up at him. He pauses momentarily to admire you before bringing both hands up to undo the buckle of the belt, releasing you from the collar. 

As you look up at him, you can’t help but feel distaste towards the helmet, wishing you could just see the man behind it. You had given yourself to him completely, submitting to this dangerous and exuberant man. Why wouldn’t he show his face? You whine loudly in response to his touch on your sensitive neck, the belt had left a thick plum-colored mark ingrained into your pretty skin, your entire body was sore from the events of the night and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. 

Through his pleasure, his moans and raspy breaths of exhale, each and every opportunity for you to hear him have been tainted, unfairly muffled by the thick plastic. The noises he makes are primal, deep, something you crave more of; he’d been giving you so much tonight, made you cum hard more than once, and fucked your throat raw, but it isn’t enough; you want more of him, all of him. 

You hadn’t been bashful the entire night, but suddenly you aren't confident enough to verbally ask him; multiple attempts have already been made to try and convince him to take it off, which he has quite harshly rejected. 

He seems to sense your shift in energy, the anxiety radiating off of you like a pungent smell. His fingers grip your chin, curling them underneath to make you look up at him. Your mind flashes back to when it did it earlier in the night, only this time his hand wasn’t covered in blood. You suppose you should have felt some sort of relief at that, but your unease only worsens. 

His masked figure continues to glare down at you, looking as if he might offer something sweet in his words, but he doesn’t; instead, he simply says, “ready for a different type of ride, little mouse?” 

His words go straight to your already wet and stretched cunt. He’s finally going to fuck you.

He puts one knee onto the mattress, causing the springs of the frame holding it to scream out, the squeak an alarm that the sheer weight of them might be too much for their rusty coils to handle. 

He pulls you flush against his chest and reaches his arms behind you to unzip your dress, and you're grateful, the leather fabric had pooled at your hips at this point and you were starting to sweat under the heavy folds. You sink into the warmth of him, the side of your face flush with the cool plastic of the helmet. As he works to release you from your cloth prison, the dress you were once so excited to put on, your gaze drops to the back of his neck, and you notice a patch of sweaty salt and pepper curls under the bottom edge of the helmet. You reach your arms up around him and intertwine your fingers around the locks. You had thought maybe he was older, but seeing the greying hair was the confirmation you needed. 

With him now so close, you take in the opportunity to smell him, and fuck it was absolutely invigorating – like fresh coffee in the morning, the smoke from a campfire, and wait…is that, patchouli? Fucking patchouli? Because of course, your masked, murderous savior would smell like patchouli. You take a deep inhale through your nose, and hold it at the top, as if to commit his scent to memory. 

He finishes with the dress, and you step out of it, also deciding to ditch the scrap of panties that no longer serve their intended purpose. Now bare, you stand in front of him innocently. You were nervous, unable to see his expression, unsure if he likes what he sees. 

It doesn’t take much for him to give you the confirmation you need that he in fact, does, his rock-hard cock practically staring at you, begging for something to bury into. His rough and calloused palm traces over your arm, leaving goosebumps as it trails down. He latches onto your wrist, pausing to gently trace the blue veins and feel your pulse. His gentleness causes you to melt. 

He takes a seat on the mattress, pulling you with him. 

For the entire evening, your body had been riding the line between pain and pleasure, and it had never been more blurred than right now. Your knees are shaking as they find the broken springs under the grimy mattress. 

It's almost too much, your knees ache with bruises forming on them from their assault on the cement. Straddling his hips, he reaches between your bodies to position himself at the entrance of your wet and waiting hole. You sink down onto his length halfway, eyes falling shut as you do. 

Fuck – he’s big. Almost too big.

His hard cock fills you so good; and he gives you a second to adjust, frozen in pleasure for a moment when he finally reaches the hilt of you, the tip of his cock nudges in a painful pinch. For a moment he’s panting and just holding you on top of him, hands tightening around the delicious flesh of your hips. He’s just using you to keep his cock warm until he can catch his breath. He can tell by your incessant squirming that you’ve never had something so big stuffed inside of your small frame, and he was here to change that; fill you up how you deserve to be. 

“Shit, baby – you’re a tight one, aint’cha,” he says, groaning breathlessly. 

You begin to find your pace on him, rolling your hips into his as you find a rhythm, gliding effortlessly over his thickness with the help of his praise, his filthy words encouraging you to fuck him harder. His hands are still firm on your hips, leaving little bruises at the fingertips, and he assists your rolls back and forth as you grind your clit against the thick black hair at the base of him, teasing your swollen clit with each move as you do. 

“I’m going to ruin you, little mouse, fuck you so good all you’ll ever think about is me. All you’ll ever feel is me.” His claim is arrogant, but rightfully so, the way he’s filling you to your ribs was something that couldn’t ever be competed with. 

He knows it, and you know it. You are doomed to be a prisoner to an approach to sex you’d never experienced. Addicted to every touch. 

The possessive nature of this man wouldn’t ever be matched with anyone else. 

They would all fall short. 

He had broken you to need him. 

His hands roughly grasp at your breasts, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers, and an airy moan leaves your lips as he watches them bounce, he gives them a harsh slap, earning a yelp from your lips as the sensation. The sting lingers and the red mark it creates is more proof of what this man’s doing to you; creating evidence that you’d remember long after he was gone, the ghost of the touch you’d feel one night in the future when you needed someone, no one would ever compare. He was leaving his mark on you. 

His calloused fingers are thick, wrapping around your neck, applying a small amount of pressure to the side of your neck along your pulse point, until your vision goes a little fuzzy and you subsequently relax into his hands with the notion. 

With as much as he's taking you—he curses under his breath when you let out a whimper of pleasure, holding the position, slipping his thumb into your mouth which you greedily sucked on, he feels the hum of a muffled moan. 

“Such a good girl,” he moans, “squeezing my cock so fuckin’ tight, little mouse. This pussy was fucking made f’me,” he praises, his words practically dragging you over the edge, and you cream all over his cock as he continues to relentless thurst upwards inside of you, practically touching your lungs.

Your slick makes it easy for him to fuck into you right to the hilt, burying himself into the most sacred part of yourself. Greedily, you clench down onto him, sucking him back in when he tries to retract from your hole. In your delirium you swear you can feel him in your stomach, you’d never had someone so fucking deep inside of you before. Wet mewls escape your lips as you feel him drag his cock in and out of you, reaching places no other man had ever been. With the way your cunt greedily swallows his cock, he starts to feel a sense of infatuation, he would do anything to keep you.

“This pussy isn't goin’ to take too nicely to another cock, will she, little one? She likes me too much,” he says, but you find it hard to concentrate on words when there are so many things stimulating you – his cock, his hand around the column of your throat, the growing need budding in your clit, your intense desire to fucking look at his face. 

Before you can register what’s happening, loud moans leave your lips, when they do the saliva that had accumulated inside of your mouth falls, dripping down onto the visor of his helmet. A gruff moan leaves his lips, one of shock and pleasure, seeing you drool all over him on his cock was a sight that spurred him on. 

“Fuckin’ you so good you can’t even think properly, can you little mouse? S’alright, just let daddy make you feel good.”

Daddy.

You want so badly to cum. 

But there’s something holding you back. 

You need to see him. It's no longer a question or a curiosity. It's a non-negotiable. 

“Shi–-shit, I’m so close, ugh I need to see your face,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes, “Please let me look at you while I cum on your cock,” you beg. 

He ignores the request, your hips still grinding onto him, until you pout and beg once more, “Daddy, please!” 

He grips down tight onto your hips, urging you to come to a slow, and eventually a full stop. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. He releases his grip and reaches up to place both hands on the helmet – yes, yes, yes, take it off – he pauses with his palms on the sides, before using the strength of his arms to take the helmet completely off. 

The cool helmet now in his hands, he sets it off to the side on the mattress, and the inside rolls to face up. 

That’s when you notice it – a small label, curiously out of place. You focus your gaze and the small letters focus in view; it’s a name. 

His name. 

Joel Miller. 

You smile and decide to tuck the new knowledge away, for now, and turn your attention back to him. 

Oh my.

He’s fucking hot. 

Seeing him for the first time is jarring. 

Like you should’ve expected him to look exactly like this, perhaps you’d expected him not to be so fucking handsome. 

His wide brown eyes are watching you, the stare lingering on your face, the same stare you’d felt burning into your soul the entire evening. His pupils are dilated, a sentiment of his arousal for you. You want to take your time admiring him, in case he changes his mind and reverts back into the comfort of his helmet, but it’s too late for that; you’ve seen him. 

You’ll remember every detail of him until the day you die. The patchy facial hair, his full mustache trimmed neatly; a small heart shape on the left side made your heart swell, it's well-groomed but still simultaneously unruly. He's a man who looks after himself. On the right cheek, there is a single dimple; showcasing itself as he bites the inside of his cheek. 

It seems you finally had him like putty in your hands. He looks anxious, his eyes scanning your face frantically, searching for anything that would make you retreat from him, any sign of regret. 

Your hand reaches out slowly as if approaching a stray animal, your pleading eyes begging for this one thing, just one simple touch. He flinches slightly as if this kind of feeling of your skin on his was foreign to him, but he doesn’t move, nor resist your action. 

The pad of your soft thumb rubs over his lips, and you lean forward as if to kiss him. 

You don’t. 

Instead, you pause with your lips inches away from his, your hot breaths mingling together. A smirk washes over your face, and you flint your gaze up to his. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you whisper seductively. 

What the fuck.

You uttering his name catches him off guard, rendering him surprised and vulnerable. He looks at you like he just got stabbed; he wouldn’t be the only one tonight. Like a bear preparing for a fight, he growls, and bucks his hips up into you, beginning to fuck you again, hard. 

With his cock stuffed inside of you and the sight of his face, you’re close to your release. 

Eyes gazing into his for real for the first time tonight, you feel a wave of pleasure overcome you, and you spill over onto him like a broken yolk. You fall forward, body limp and sore, and he lets you lay there, his chest your strength. He pauses, letting you work through your orgasm. 

Once your shaking has subsided, he brings his hand up to your jaw. He smooshes your cheeks together, your lips puffing as he does. He stares at them for a moment, his expression mirroring your own, eyes dark with desire, before pulling them to his in a fiery kiss. His tongue explores the recesses of your mouth, and you welcome it with a moan that rumbles from the very core of your desire. Fuck, finally. You savor the taste of him, all salt with a hint of mint. 

His lips part from yours, and he begins to chase his own release once more, his cock resuming its relentless pace, fucking in and out of you. 

Seeing and feeling your orgasm already had him close. For the first time tonight, he finally got sips of fresh air, each breath filled with the sweet scent of all things you. He was absolutely ravenous. 

“Fuck–,” he gasps, his orgasm not far off, “Gonna come, little mouse, wanna shit–wanna fill you up, make you full of me,” he says, breath heavy and shallow with each thrust.

“Yes, daddy, please,” you pant, moans weak and timid. 

“Fuck, Joel, give me your cum, want it so bad” you beg, your walls pulsing and squeezing around him, your cunt crying to be filled. 

He gives you a few more shaky rolls of his hips, and then slows, balls deep inside you.

“You’re mine now, little mouse,” he says, shooting long, thick ropes of milky white release, painting your cervix with his seed. 

At that moment you realize you are his, nothing more than a little mouse caught in his trap – and he’ll never let you go. 

END

...or is it?

Tagging: @sydneyinacoma @darkheartgatita @elegantduckturtle @alltheglitterandtheroar @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @reddedmiller @morallyinept @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @secretelephanttattoo @ruinmepedro @papipascalispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @untamedheart81 @planet-marz1 @pascalpvnk @elvinaa @joeldjarin @javiscigarette @cavillscurls and @toxicanonymity (our queen of dark fics and source of inspiration)

Oh hey! You made it to the end. Cool. Thanks for reading. Since you're here, I'll pass on a reminder that I'm just a horny little wannabe fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. Likes and comments are wonderful and much appreciated, but reblogs are really what counts in making people see this, especially for smaller blogs like mine. If you like this, please consider reblogging.

#dark joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #the last of us #kinktober #dark writing #pedrohub #collaborative writing

[jjuniehao]

[02:39 pm]: bang chan

“come on, you need some fresh air!” you whine, squeezing chan’s cheeks when he still won’t budge, “maybe touching some grass, too. all you do is sit in this stuffy room, you probably have brain cells dying by the minute!”

chan breaks through his straight-faced demeanour and snorts at you, hands finding your waist and pulling you onto his lap, chin resting on your shoulder.

“baby, i’d love to, really. i wanna go on a real date with you so bad, but right now i just can’t spare the time, i’m sorry,” he mumbles, imagining the scowl you’re most likely wearing on your face right now, pressing a kiss behind your ear in hopes of soothing you a little.

his hopes be damned. though.

you groan, taking your boyfriend by surprise when you rise up from his lap, placing your hands on his shoulders and bending your knees to be on eye level with him.

“listen, mister. i get it, okay? i get it so hard— really, i understand, work is demanding and it’s hard to stay on top,” the serious look on your face makes him break out in a goofy smile, nodding along in hopes of maybe, perhaps receiving some praise for being such a diligent, hard worker from his favourite person…?

“but,” your tone drastically changes, furrowed eyebrows and lips pulled into a pout he’d really love to kiss instead of having you rip into him and his “capitalistic victim mindset” that “keeps him working until he eventually disintegrates with no trace left since he lived to work instead of working to live.”

pretty dramatic, but he gets your point. kinda.

“i’ve tried it all. i tried to be all caring and gentle to get you to take a break for just one night, i even brought cupcakes!”

“they were so good, ba—“

“i tried to be strict, i tried to be all smart and brought up all the health issues overworking and stress can cause,” chan looks at you sheepishly, feeling a little guilty for getting you so worried and desperate, though it also makes his heart flutter in a weird, twisted way.

“so i’m just going to be honest, and maybe a little selfish, and you’ll be the good boyfriend i know you are and agree with me, okay?” chan blinks at you, and before he can even come up with a counter, you have his cheeks cupped in your hands, determined eyes boring into his.

“i miss you. i miss spending time with you. i want my boyfriend. you always say i’m allowed to be a little selfish, so i’m cashing that in right now. i want to be selfish and i want you to go and have this cute little picnic i prepared. i even made mini sandwiches. do you know how annoying it is to cut lettuce into little squares?” chan stays quiet for a while. every second of silence makes the confidence you had built up shatter a little more, your eyes starting to nervously dart all over his face.

suddenly, you’re pulled back into his lap, face in his hands, cheeks squished, frantic kisses planted all over your face.

“wah, you’re so cute. what am i gonna do with you? how am i gonna work from now on when all i’ll be able to think about is your little speech?” he whines, pressing a kiss to your lips every few words, making you burst out in giggles he loves so much. “is that a yes?” the hopefulness in your voice makes chan melt, stealing another quick kiss from you.

“yeah but also no? i have maybe,” he reaches towards his phone laying on the desk, checking the time, “around 20 minutes. think we can make it outside, eat, and be back in that time?” chan is almost sure you’ll refuse, upset that he can’t spare you a little more time. instead, you practically shoot up from his lap, “well, then what are you waiting for?”

and with that you’re flying out the door and down the hall, chan scrambling to catch up with you, stupid lovestruck smile on his face.

part of the bucketlist boyfriends series

*i can’t link it since it messes w the tags </3

#.bucketlist boyfriends #stray kids #bang chan #chan #skz #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #chan fluff #stray kids x reader #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids chan #skz chan #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids reactions #stray kids headcanons #skz fluff #skz headcanons #stray kids timestamps

[steveharringtonat3am]

Nails

wc: 883

warnings: some adorable bf eddie

“Your room is so cute.” Eddie sighs happily, cuddling into your pillows. You watch him from your seat at your desk, smiling at his antics.

“It’s pretty normal babe.” You grab your nail polish remover, beginning to take off the two week old polish from your nails. He slides off your bed and grabs his bag and starts taking out all of his things.

“What are you doing?” You ask, turning to watch him as you rub the acetone-coated cotton on your nails.

“Painting dnd miniatures.” He smiles, setting up and tying his hair back into a bun. The sight always makes your heart flutter. His bangs have been getting in his eyes recently and you make a mental note to trim them for him.

“I didn’t know you do that.” You grab your nail polish materials and sit across from him on the floor.

“I like to touch them up so they look extra nice!” They look even tinier in his hands, using a tiny paintbrush to gently paint the little statues.

“Which one are you painting now?” You can’t help but be curious. Even though dnd was a big part of Eddie’s life, you could never get into it. You knew he didn’t mind but you know he likes being able to talk about it with you.

“This is the female wizard. I actually based her character off you. She’s so beautiful that it causes the characters to get distracted during battle.” Leave it to Eddie Munson to be incredibly romantic while talking about dungeons and dragons.

“That one looks really pretty.” With the polish off your nails, you let yourself focus on Eddie’s skillful hands painting with a tiny brush.

“I’m glad you think so.” He kisses your forehead quickly before going back to painting. His tongue sticks out as he focuses. You lay on your stomach next to him, propped up on your hand.

“Do you paint all of these?” You hold up another one and he takes it, cleaning off his brush and starts to paint it.

“Pretty much yeah. It’s actually really relaxing.” It’s so precise that it almost makes you nervous, but he does seen happy.

“That makes sense!” You stay quiet for a while after that. It’s honestly nice to just sit and be with Eddie in silence. He always liked to be talking while doing something with his hands, which was always. But he was so focused that he was quiet, and it was nice to just watch and admire how pretty he is.

“There! Done!” He finally sets the last one down, jolting you awake.

“Th-that’s great babe!” You yawn, curling up in his lap. He smiles and runs a hand over your hair.

“You can’t fall asleep on the floor babe.”

“I can’t fall asleep. Have to paint my nails.” You pout, not nearly in the mood for an activity requiring that much effort.

“I could paint them for you?” He offers, ever the gentleman.

“You don’t know how to paint nails babe.” You peak an eye at him to see him look at you with a funny look on his face.

“I just painted like 20 tiny statues. I think I can handle your nails.” He grins as you sit up against the side of your bed.

“That makes sense…let me file them first yeah?” He nods, handing you the metal file and watching as you shape your nails, blowing them off when you’re done.

“Can I paint them now?” He’s very eager, already opening up your bottle of red polish.

“Sure babe just make sure not to put too much.” He wipes off some of the excess paint, taking your hand and precisely painting your nail. His first try is practically perfect, the coat of paint looking as good as they do in the salon.

“Wow baby you’re really good at this.” He only hums in response. When it came to you, Eddie never left things half-finished. Honestly, you had expected him to get bored halfway through but he painted every nail with incredible precision.

“Is that good?” He asks once the first coat is on. Sure enough, it looks better than ever.

“It’s perfect babe. Now we just let it dry!” You smile, finally able to squirm into his lap. He grins as he pulls you close.

“How long does that usually take?”

“Well it isn’t too thick so shouldn’t take longer than 20 minutes. But until then I can’t touch them, or the polish will smudge.” You keep your hands extended as you relax against his chest.

“Okay baby. Hey did I tell you about what happened today at work? This dude came in-” He launches into an animated story but the warmth of his arms has already begun to lull you to sleep.

An hour later and Eddie’s back is really starting to ache from sitting on the floor. But wow you look adorable when you sleep. He reaches out to inspect your nails, touching them gently to check if they’re dry. Sure enough they are and he smiles, kissing your forehead.

Maybe painting all those miniatures paid off.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic

[shiro-00s]

heaven on earth

10. unfamiliar warmth .. ✮

[ genshin impact smau / idol!xiao x fem!reader ]

The time on your phone screen changed from 4:19 to 4:20. The sun wasn't shining as brightly anymore from the clouds covering it but sunlight still peeked through some gaps. Your long-awaited meeting with the dark-haired male was finally about to begin.

Your walk to the pavilion was accompanied by the chilling wind and the sound of people passing by as they chattered on with their own little worlds. Arriving 10 minutes early wasn't exactly your plan but it wouldn't cause any harm to be early for once. Plus, you were grateful for the opportunity to be able to arrive earlier than the man to give off a good impression.

Or that was your initial plan until you saw a glimpse of someone with teal undertones and golden eyes from the windows of the pavilion.

Well, at least someone didn't ditch.

Upon walking inside, the woman at the reception welcomed you, asking for any reservations or if you didn't make one.

As you told the woman your name, you were led to the table where you were met with the sight of a menu covering a familiar face.

Your lips curled into a smile at the sight. He seemed to be too invested in the menu, not aware of your figure standing near the table. Taking this as a chance to surprise him, you walked up to the chair on the opposite side of Xiao.

From under the table, you softly kicked his shin. You tried to suppress a laugh when his reflexes kicked in and he moved away from the table. The chair made a screeching noise from the contact it made against the floor. Xiao was clutching onto the menu, his knuckles shifting from pink to white.

Sitting back against the chair in a relaxed form, you questioned the panicked man, "You alright there?" His panic seemed todie down as he took in the sight of you. With a huff, he snapped back "Are you trying to end me with a heart attack?"

You giggled at his words as he took his seat back and was looking around for anyone who might have seen his actions that happened previously. Relaxing your elbows on the table, you took his lack of attention on you to check him out.

Xiao wore a black puffer jacket and a sweatshirt underneath. You were confused why he was wearing a mask, though. Well, it looked nice on him and it complimented the outfit well so it didn't really matter.

When his attention returned to you, you met his eyes but he looked away as soon as the interaction happened. Chuckling softly to yourself, you gestured for a waiter to come and take your orders. You were grateful you did research on the pavilion beforehand to know what food you should give a try. After conversing with the waiter about your orders, you watched in silence as Xiao took off his jacket and hung it on the chair.

You ignored the glances he kept throwing at you, just because you wanted to see how long it'd take for him to start a conversation. With a silent sigh, you took it upon yourself to be the one to start it because you felt responsible for it. "Sorry for the timing, by the way, it's too late for lunch and too early for dinner."

His eyebrows rose at your apology, clearly not expecting it. Then he shook his head and you could hear him mutter an "I don't mind." even with the low volume.

It was almost funny how every time it'd end up in the same way - you start a conversation and him replying. As laughable as it was, it would end up being awkward one way or another. So the only solution in this situation: ask him a question about himself.

"Hey, y'know.. the apartment we live in is pretty expensive no? Was wondering what job you got to pay for it." A great question, but not for him. Xiao had found himself in a tight situation, he didn't really want to tell you his profession. Why would he?

You were probably one of the only people who had friended him without the knowledge of his role as an idol. Sweat dripped from both of your faces, one for the confusion of the long silence and the other for not knowing how to answer your question.

"My friend (really struggled to say that) bought it for me because it was near his place." It was an excellent lie, and it wasn't a full lie either, right? Childe bought the apartment for him because it wasn't far from the studio and was a really good deal - at least that's what he heard. However, Xiao didn't have much to worry about because you seem to have bought his lie. The only thing that you were wary about was the fact he actually had friends. Think he'd be mad if I said that out loud tho.

Still, waiting for what you'll have to say about his fake situation was nerve-wracking. "Woah, your friend gotta be.. in love with you or something for that. Either that or he's made out of money." When the words reached his ear, he'd like to think you're one of a kind to reply with something like that.

"Not really, 'think he got someone honestly, with his behavior these days."

"No way, what kind of behavior?"

"Asked me to buy something for someone else, he never does that."

Xiao surprised himself when he talked to you without difficulty and was a little proud of washis improving social skills.

And so, the conversation never ends.

It was getting late, the clock was ticking but you and Xiao were in your own little worlds. Unaware about the darkness consuming the sky slowly until one of you had glanced at the clock on one of the walls of the pavilion. Oh. It was half past 6, and the sun had already set long ago.

Xiao seemed to have taken note of the time, too. As much as you'd love to stay with Xiao, your mind was starting to play games with you.

Did I leave enough food for Rain?

Hope I won't return to the apartment being torn apart by her.

Though, you didn't have much time to ponder on further as your thoughts were stopped by Xiao's words, "Wanna walk home with me? We're headed the same way." Well.. our places are literally face-to-face so, why not?

The both of you quickly wrapped up your things, fought over the bills (you paid) and walked out the pavilion to go on the peaceful walk with Xiao. It would've been a perfect night. It would've. Except the freezing cold air brushing against all parts of your exposed skin. It took a lot in you to suppress the shivering.

Neither of you really spoke as to not disturb the tranquil air surrounding the two of you. That didn't really last long considering the sneeze that came out of you even with your attempt to muffle it with your forearm. The words that came out of Xiao's mouth had made you warm though. In a different way.

"Are you cold?"

Trying to dismiss his concern, you waved your hand slightly as a gesture to non-verbally say "don't worry". Xiao made it obvious he couldn't just accept a very obvious lie when he thought of a quick solution.

And you realized what his quick solution was when you felt a weight on your shoulders. His jacket. On your shoulders.

Xiao gave you his jacket.

You can't tell if the warmth you suddenly feel is from the jacket or your emotions. Your heart skipped a beat. The action the male had done had left you speechless. How could he do something so casually? But you kept your composure, you refused to show any signs of flustering at his actions.

Your eyes scanned Xiao, trying to pry and figure out what he's thinking. When you're unable to do so, you sigh softly. He was Xiao after all, it wouldn't surprise you if he wasn't aware that this type of activity was something usually done in kdramas, where the male lead makes a move on the main character to create a romantic scene. It was a move used by teenagers to express affection for their loved ones, a cliche plot that was written in books to make more progress on the lovers' relationship, a gesture that was meant to mean more.

You smile, "Thanks Xiao, really saving my life out here." Again, Xiao being Xiao, he simply nodded at your words with a poker face. The walk home consisted of small talks here and there, until you finally reached your apartments.

You ignore the tiny ache in your heart when you had to hand over the jacket back, you reason that it was just that comfortable. You're ripped out of your thoughts once again when your hand brushes against his. It felt like a shock. The hair on your neck stands, the beating of your heart can be heard, you gulp.

You shove your hand back to your side, then turn to your apartment, you leave a 'cya later' in the air for him to hear as you stroll into your own residence.

And Xiao was left with the jacket you wore on his hand and the emptiness of your presence.

You don't realize how Xiao thinks you look better in the jacket than he does.

heaven on earth - 10. unfamiliar warmth

previous | masterlist | next

synopsis ; 🗝️ — in which you befriend your next door neighbour who, unbeknownst to you, was apart of a soon-to-be one of the most popular bands throughout liyue. you're unable to tell if cupid was helping you or not when things with xiao keept going up and down. will he continue to keep his secret from yours truly?

NOTES — rain is the cat's name btww im really spoiling yall with the hardwork i put into this chapter fr feeding u guys

TAGLIST [OPEN] — @mikctp @ghostlysyntaxed @kazemiya @nnasv @gojoandelsalovechilde @candy-purple-cyanide @kissingkzuha @zyilas @lunaavity @luminescent-light @mave-in @rizakari @riikyu @kokoscutie @starsxnight @sketcheeee @softlie @izakyun @xiaxilia @the-sweet-madame

(ask to be added or removed)

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin xiao #genshin crack #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #xiao genshin #xiao #xiao smau #xiao x reader smau #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #xiao imagines #xiao angst #xiao fluff #xiao crack #adeptus xiao #genshin impact smau #genshin impact idol au #genshin impact modern au #heaven on earth - shiro.

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 7. - Exhibitionism

Rydal Keener x F!Reader.

Tags & warnings. Exhibitionism + brat tammer. (+18)

Word count. 1.4k

Summary. You want to keep acting like a bitch? He'll treat you like one.

Kinktober masterlist.

It had been 20 minutes since you couldn't stand yourself. The heat of Greece was killing you; everything felt sticky, your hair had frizzed up after the long time you spent fixing it, and you undoubtedly despised Rydal.

Why? You didn't really have a reason; he was just the last person you wanted to see. Which was a bit silly considering that you were traveling together.

You had a complicated relationship, yes, but he was a good friend and an excellent tour guide.

Oh, and he was amazing in bed.

Maybe he didn't deserve it, but when bad mood struck, it was a lost battle for you and everyone around you. The best thing was to simply wait for time to pass until things relaxed on their own.

You had been walking for an hour, and he kept talking, talking, talking, never stopping. You just nodded or made sounds that translated as a 'Yes, I'm listening' kind of thing.

"And... the last step." This was a tradition of his; you celebrated reaching the end of the path, together and out of breath.

There were almost always kisses involved, and the way you turned your face to avoid him was enough to make Rydal lose the ounce of patience he had left with you. Still, he smiled; he always had everything under control.

"We made it. Bochali viewpoint."

The village looked beautiful from up there, and you couldn't deny that both the silence and having completed the journey did ease your furrowed brow a bit.

"Sit on the edge," he murmured in your ear, and you could only look up, confused by the sudden order.

"What? I don't think it's allowe..."

"Sit on the edge." His voice suddenly grew firmer, and his hand on your lower back gave you a little push that made you walk clumsily. You looked around to make sure that no one else could see you and obeyed. With your gaze ahead, you sat on the rocky ledge that protected the edge of the lookout.

You felt the uncomfortable pressure of the stones against your skin, your thighs exposed thanks to your choice of wearing a sundress that ensured you wouldn't pass out from the heat halfway. Rydal stood up behind you.

"You've been acting like a fucking bitch all day," he whispered in your ear, your cheeks turning a rosy cute tone almost instantly as his hands settled on your hips. "Open your legs."

You weren't far enough away; you could make out the figures of people in the distance, which undoubtedly meant that people could see you.

"Rydal, no, they can see us," you stammered quickly, his right hand sliding down one of your legs until he could give a tug, opening them just as he had asked.

You swallowed hard.

"If you want to behave like one, then I'll treat you like one." One of his hands remained on your thigh, his fingers gripping it to make you understand that you couldn't cover yourself. "We'll let everyone see how much of a bitch you are." He licked his lips before starting to kiss your neck softly.

Maybe that's what you needed to forget your bad mood.

You closed your eyes, and instinctively, your head tilted to the side, giving him more room in the area as his kisses turned into bites and hickies. You both had been there for three days, and you couldn't find any more space on your skin to add more marks.

Your underwear became damp in less time than you would have liked. His fingers teased your pussy lips above the fabric.

"Take off your panties," he whispered against your skin as he slowly slid said piece of fabric down your thighs. You obediently lifted your hips so he could expuse you completely, letting your underwear fall.

You always thought that if you left a souvenir on one of your trips with a guy, it would be one of those locks with both of your names on a cute bridge, not your panties caught in some bushes a few meters away.

You felt the breeze hit the humidity between your legs and a shiver ran through you from head to toe. His left hand held you still in place by your waist, his opposite hand began the work.

He slid his index and middle finger between your lips to wet them with your arousal, you trembled when they found your entrance, firmly inserting themselves inside you.

“Fuck, Rydal.” You stammered as your back pressed against his chest for balance.

“This was what you needed, wasn't it?” He took out his fingers and pushed them back into you with such speed and force that you were able to hear how the liquid coming out of you made his thrusts louder. “If only I had known this was enough to wipe that scowl off your pretty face.”

You nodded quickly with your eyes closed, your head falling onto the boy's shoulder.

“Put your legs up.”

“Rydal.”

“Put them up.” He growled and you obeyed awkwardly. You raised both legs onto the fence, bending them slightly so that you were completely exposed to the panorama. Surely more than one person had already seen you. “I want to show them how to treat a brat like you.”

With his fingers completely inside you, and he continued to push deeper. You felt him rub against that sweet spot inside you that made you whimper out loud.

Your slick wet the stones beneath you, you moved your hips slowly seeking more contact between your body and his hand. You thought you were about to lose your mind when his thumb pressed against your swollen clit, hungry for some attention.

“Look at you, sweetheart.” The hand that was kept on your waist crawled up little by little, cupping one of your tits. He squeezed with his fingers in that rough way that only Rydal knew. “Such a good girl.”

It didn't take long for him to slide his hand under the neckline of your dress to have better access to your breast, pinching your nipple until it hurt, you whimpered with your eyes closed. You were getting closer to your limit.

“Apologize.” Of course, Rydal already recognized perfectly when your body was about to reach it, he felt your walls squeeze his fingers while he increased the pace of his movements. “Come on, tell me you're sorry.”

“S-Sorry, Rydal, s-sorry.” You muttered in a breathy voice as you swore you heard your screams echoing across the landscape. You were close to begging for more.

“Louder, princess, I couldn't understand you.” Princess was his favorite nickname for when you were misbehaving. He always told you that you behaved like one, not exactly as a compliment.

"Sorry, sorry! M-More, please, please. R-Rydal!”

“Are you going to behave like that again?” His thumb played with your clit, giving it quick touches that made your entire body vibrate in place, suffering from small spasms.

When you didn't respond his fingers came out of you, he used them to gently slap your sensitive pussy. It throbbed around nothing and you could swear your eyes were filling with tears from your desperation to cum once and for all.

"Answer to me". One more slap brought out a pained moan from you, your body shaking.

"N-No." You shook your head quickly, your back arching slightly in place as a way to push your hips closer to his hands. “I-I won't, I…” You took a deep breath. You were choking in your own moans. "I promise".

"Good girl". Placing a small kiss on your shoulder he finally gave you what you wanted, his fingers inserting inside you again, his thumb pressing your clit and tracing circles that brought you to the end faster than you expected.

Your whole body tensed as you enjoyed the devastating orgasm, he nibbled on your neck roughly with the intention of leaving more marks on it. His opposite hand kept pinching your nipple on the left side.

His movements became slow as you relaxed, and after a few minutes he finally removed his fingers from inside you and brought them to your mouth, pushing them between your lips in an act that you accepted immediately. With your eyes closed and breathing hard you began to suck them clean, tasting yourself.

"Better?" He placed one last kiss on your cheek, but not before you turned towards him, your lips brushing against his as you felt him smile.

You nodded your head slowly, something almost imperceptible.

"Do you want to eat something?"

You nodded again, and he gave a small laugh.

“No wonder you were in such a bad mood.”

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This is my comeback lol not a fan of it but hopefully my brain will start braining

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[wosoluver]

You always know what to say and do.

Andrea Medina x reader

-> got this idea while watching her tiktok, where they're playing the marshmallow game, so if you want some good context to it, pls look it up. Once again this is fictional, and don't necessarily reflect the reality, although Andrea has been open about her ADHD and hyperactivity.

TW: angst, anxiety attack (sort of), mentions of hyperactivity and feelings of anxiety.

You and your girlfriend were almost never apart. You thrive in each-others presence. Always a safe place to joke around, talk, sing, cry or sometimes just sit around in comfortable silence. And by silence it actually meant you were relaxing quietly while Andrea walked around talking nonstop.

It never bothered her because she knew you were paying attention to her every move and words, and it made her feel like someone was actually listening to her. And you, you loved those moments more than anything. It didn't bother you either, to you, her voice was the most relaxing sound, you could listen to her jokes all day. You loved that despite knowing you had a way lower energy level, she could always still be one hundred percent herself, even if it meant enduring her hyperactive self. It was indeed very comforting having someone so opposite to you that yet complemented you perfectly deep down inside.

So when she called you up at 3 AM crying, your heart broke. It was hard enough being away from each other, when she was away with the sub 20 national team. This time they were away for a game against Germany, and the call was unexpected to say the least. Even though you would spend hours on facetime, she usually slept like a baby through the night, especially after training for hours. That's one of the only things that would really drain some energy out of her.

Andrea was the type of person to never break down in front of others, so when she called you in the middle of the night, you knew it was bad.

"What happened amor? Why are you crying?" - you asked desperately.

You could barely make up the words she was saying through the phone.

"Breathe okay? I'm here, cry all you need and then talk to me amor" -

It took around ten minutes for her cries to die down.

"Everyone hates me!" - "They think I am annoying and they don't want me around!" -

"Did someone say that to you?"-

She shook her head while she spoke - "No, but I know it, I can tell"-

"Baby, tell me what happened okay? Is Ornella with you?" -

"No, we're not sharing rooms this week." - I nodded to her, reassuring her to continue - "We were at Martina's room and I had an idea for a tiktok, you know the one marshmallow two marshmallow game?"

"Yes I saw you posted it earlier. But what happened?" -

"While we were filming, it felt like everyone was so annoyed at me, like they were tired and that I was taking up space you know? I know not a lot of people can deal with the way I am, but I don't know, I just thought we were all good friends, and that it would be fun..."-

"Cariño, I wish I could hold you right now." - you say sadly - "But we've talked about this. You can't live worrying if others might be bothered by it. It's who you are! You don't have to feel bad for the ones around you! I hate that you felt that way today, I just wish I could be there with you."

"I love the girls and I just sometimes forget how overbearing I can be. It's kind of hard, when I'm back home with you, Lola, Cris, Wifi and the team I don't even think about it, I don't worry. I forget how much support I have and I'm so thankful. And I love you amor. So much." -

By now you were tearing up. For the last year and a half, you've seen her through it all, and you knew her pain. You knew how hard it was for her to say it out loud, even more to anyone that was not the reflection in her mirror. She keeps her smile up even when she feels the saddest. Your guess was that she kept that fake smile and jokes, kept it up until she was finally alone in the hotel room. And then just exploded from her feelings. And you guessed it right.

She only decided to call you when she realized she couldn't calm down by herself. That was, after hours of crying.

"Was Ornella there?" - you ask already knowing the answer as she shook her head no. You knew if she was, this most likely wouldn't have happened.

"How about you take hot a shower? I'll stay on the call, and when you're done we can go to sleep?" - She easily gave in to your idea, knowing that's exactly what she needed right now, besides the cuddle that she wouldn't be getting till next monday.

After taking a rather quick shower not wanting to be away from the call too long, she put on the hoodie she brought along that smelled like you. The piece of clothing was her own, but it acquired the smell from how much you wore it around the apartment.

Laying back down on the bed and going under the covers, she focused once again on the phone screen.

"Better?" she only nodded quickly - "I love you, Andrea, so much. And I know that if Ornella was there you would've felt seen and safer. But you can't depend on having one of us by your side, to feel like you deserve to be who you are. I know Lola and I talk about it a lot, but it's true. You can't be careful around others at the expense of your own feelings. It's not healthy. They can remove themselves if they'd like. By now we know that some people don't have much patience unfortunately. They have no idea the gem they're missing on, my love." -

"Gracias bebé, for knowing what to say and do. I know I need to work on fighting these feelings off. And promise tomorrow I'll follow the drill and try to stay close to Ornella. Even though that's the opposite of what you just said." - seemly as on queue she let's out an yawn.

"Okay baby. I'll leave you to get some sleep then."

She immediately protested -"Please stay until one of us falls a sleep?" -

You couldn't say no to her.

Took a little bit of my own personal experience to write this one and hope it also helps anyone in need of some comfort and reassuring words. 🩷

Also my first time writing, so I'd love to hear your thoughts and advice. This feels like it needs some improvement.

#espwnt #woso #womens football #atletico madrid femenino #andrea medina #woso x reader #andrea medina x reader