#her. but hes not smiling anymore!!!!! and the camera is cutting between her who is tearing up but Not Crying because she cant fucking cry b

[soopysoap]

hey btw nothing will make me immediately start ugly sobbing like the rocket man scene from everything sucks

#lord. LORDDD. #i also think its so interesting that while kates whole character is finding herself in the midst of Truly Dealing with her mothers death an #like. truly living for the first time with the fact that she doesnt have a mother during the years when she's developing as a person #her dads character has seemingly like #moved on #throughout the whole show #bc its established from the beginning that her death happened 10 years prior? so like it Makes Sense #and the entire time hes presented as this Happy Go Lucky guy who just wants to be there for his daughter and is a little silly and naive #sometimes #and like yeah hes struggling a bit when it comes to raising his daughter and finding love again but not any more than any other single #parent would! #and THEN #all of a sudden #he and kates boyfriend get her to play a song on the piano for them #bc they love her and want to see her in her element!!!! #and right from the beginning its established that the song shes going to play is very personal to her and her dad. they dont even divulge #details. he just says- 'youre gonna play moms song?' and she says 'yeah. is that okay?' and he says 'yeah.' and its fine #and then she plays and sings this BEAUTIFUL rendition of rocket man by elton john on the piano. and good GOD is he keeping it together for #her. but hes not smiling anymore!!!!! and the camera is cutting between her who is tearing up but Not Crying because she cant fucking cry b #SHE chose to do this and thats lame and embarrassing or whatever and then it fucking cuts back to him. during the lines 'i miss the earth s #much / i miss my wife' #good LORD nothing broke me faster #and then he just gets up. and leaves to go to the kitchen. during his daughters song- someone he has been TRYING SO HARD to be there for #while she continuously pushes him away bc of her own fears #and he fucking walks away bc he knows hes gonna break down and he cant do that in front of his daughter and who does he call?? WHO DOES HE #CALL????? the woman he had recently gone on a few dates with who likes him for Him who is helping him relearn what it means to be in love #and experience life without fear and she doesnt even pick up it just goes to voicemail and he KNOWS its just gonna go to voice mail her #voice just comforts him #all while rocket man is softly playing in the background #my roman empire

[neopuppy]

Arcade (M)

pairing. Jeno x female reader

genre. hmm what’s all this then? anyway…… smut, M/F, pwp

warnings. vaginal/backdoor unprotected rough sex, rimming, non-consented camera use, you don’t have to read Switch+Chain to understand but it might help. minors DNI.

wc. 6k+

now playing. Arcade//NCT Dream

It’s hard.

It’s been hard actually, attempting to commit to some type of relationship while living in the same household as your.. whatever he was.

First love, the man who took your virginity, your boyfriend's father.

It doesn’t help that things have been really tense between you and Jeno ever since your mom refused to move out, claiming Johnny needs to compensate her for uprooting her life with false hope of a future together.

He acquires the guest room most nights, or…doesn’t come home, and you notice— you notice it every time. When he shows up the next day, neck garnished with bitten bruises poorly hidden under his collar, lips swollen red from whatever he got up to. The avoidance he graces you with— never once meeting your gaze as he passes by on the way to his office. It’s been about a month of this; and on top of it all your mother refuses to let you enjoy any alone time with Jeno.

‘I don’t approve of this.’ She repeats daily, shoving between the two of you sitting together in the living room. ‘You are not allowed to date this horrid insolent boy.’

Jeno can’t stand it either, not helping his case with his rude and disrespectful responses, arguing back and forth with her about how this is technically his house and she can leave.

“I can’t deal with your mom anymore.” He whispers. It’s 1am, also the time your mother typically passes out after raiding Johnny’s wine cabinet. Keeping you up later every night as you have to wait to sneak to each other’s bedrooms. “It’s been two weeks.”

Two weeks since you fucked.. in the upstairs bathroom at Mark’s house, some Saturday night kick back. Even then the two of you hadn’t mentioned your.. situationship to anyone. Jeno’s friends finding it peculiar how often he’s canceled on them to hang out with his… whatever you are.

“We can try a quiet activity..” you tease, tickling under his shirt.

“I can’t even fuck you in my room anymore without her breathing down my neck.” Jeno scowls, pushing his nose against your forehead. “Besides, we both know how loud you get, baby.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“I have an idea,” Jeno had already brought up getting a hotel before, foregoing the thought as his bank account stared back at him looking bleak; failing to mention that his father had cut off the weekly allowance he’d become accustomed to after their blow up(you know, the one about you). “Haechan just became a keyholder at that arcade place he works at.”

“You want to play video games, right now?”

“No no, I’m gonna ask him for a favor.” Jeno smiles, pulling you close to his chest. “For us.”

“Where are you going?”

Your foot tracks come to a halt just as you reach the front door, more dressed up than usual. Nothing much, a short velvet dress with lace trimming, something Jeno picked out from your closet without knowing who gifted it to you in the first place.

Placing your hand on your chest in mock-shock, you gasp turning to face Johnny. “Oh my God, I haven’t heard your voice in so long— I’d forgotten you even live here.”

“I remember this dress.” Johnny’s gaze traces down, stopping at your chest for a second too long as his mouth tweaks to one side. “You were supposed to wear it—“

“Yeah.” You interrupt, reaching for the hem floating just under the jut of your buttcheek to play with. “For our next weekend together, you said I looked pretty when I tried it on.”

“You do,” Johnny’s eyebrows come together, trailing down lower to your strappy heels and manicured toes. “You look beautiful, sexy. Gorgeous as always.”

“..do you miss me?” The question comes out unexpectedly, biting down on the sides of your tongue after asking, nervously pinching your thighs together as he nods; hand running through his loose hair and tugging at the ends.

“Of course I do.” Johnny nearly smiles, the corners of his lips pointing up, none of it reaching his dark eyes continuing to stay low and avoid your face. “But you’re going to meet my son right now, aren’t you?”

“No!” You snap to answer too fast, clearing your throat and swiping your hair back. “I’m meeting my friends.”

“You don’t have friends.” Johnny scoffs a laugh jokingly, shrugging half-apologetically. “Your mom asked me to make sure you stay away from Jeno, you know.”

“He’s my boy—friend..” you say hesitantly. “I think..”

“Yes, you do seem to be a pair.” Johnny hums, leaning against the hallway wall. “It’s almost as if your mother won’t leave my son's side and Jeno won’t leave yours. I don’t believe I’ve seen you once without him around ever since..”

“Ever since we broke up?”

“We didn’t break up.” Johnny’s fast to correct. “We were never together, not you and I anyway.” He waves off, more sluggish in appearance now as you step closer and take in his tired expression. “I should have left you alone.”

“What do you me—“

“You should get going, Jeno’s been waiting outside for a while now.” Johnny cuts you off, motioning to the front door. “Probably getting annoyed knowing him.”

“Did you ever love me?” You know you shouldn’t, but Johnny’s right; if Jeno’s not plastered to your back then your mom’s hovering around with her nose deep in your business. Over the last few weeks cuddled up next to Jeno wide awake as he softly snores you can’t stop your mind from spinning, asking questions you never received answers to.

“You still have to ask?” His shoulders fall, slumping further against the wall, hooded eyes falling to his feet. “Of course I did.. I still do. I always will.”

“Then why did yo—“

“What’s taking so long!” Jeno busts through the front door, pausing with his knuckles turning white where he grips the handle hard enough to break off. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Nothing.” Johnny says casually, shoving off the wall to stand up straight. “As we agreed to, nothing at all.” He nods in Jeno’s direction, returning to his usual stature of living without acknowledging your existence, not even a ‘goodbye’ wave before exiting the room.

Jeno grabs the crook of your elbow tugging you back into his chest hard enough to have you stumbling, gasping out of shock. “Was he talking to you?!”

“Huh? Ow! You’re hurting me!” Tugging your arm away at the same time Jeno releases as if you’ve burned off the skin off his palm sends you tumbling forward, saved by his arm swiftly coming to wrap around your waist; eyes bouncing around full of concern and confusion.

“Sorry! I mean..” Jeno’s teeth grind together, softly squeezing you in his hold. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to..”

“Okay.. is everything alright?”

He frowns, ducking in to press his chin against your shoulder, eyelashes dragging down to the side as his eyes fall and lose their usual sparkle. “Yeah, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay Jeno.. let’s get going, yeah?”

“Yeah yeah.” He nods, pecking your skin before moving back to get the door for you. “I didn’t think he was home, swore I heard him leave earlier. Thought he’d be gone for the night fucking some whore.”

Jeno leads you to his car, missing the way you flinch at the mention of Johnny’s reoccurring activities, still sensitive as you try to process the answer you’ve been looking for.

I always will. That’s what Johnny said.. but there was something else.

Jeno’s driving, drumming on the steering wheel to calm his anxiety, the image of your back facing him with his fathers lazy eyes on you as you stood much too close together won’t leave his mind. He’s sick of it really, fighting his own father for the same girl; brainstorming new ways to threaten him. Even breaking into the old man’s home office to look through his patients files for some dirt, completely illegal but what about this predicament isn’t at this point.

“Back there..” you break his thoughts, clearing your throat.

“Huh?” Jeno glances, shifting his tense shoulders to relax and lean back in his seat. “Back there?”

“Your dad.. he said something, about ‘as we agreed to’ I think..” you say cautiously, picking at your cuticle. “Did you guys ever talk? About.. us?”

Jeno steps down on the brake abruptly, hurling your chest forward restrained by the seat belt that tightens up around you. “What?”

At least the lights red, you think, rubbing at your sore chest. “...Ow..”

Jeno sighs, more annoyed now, tapping the steering wheel with more aggression. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Things have been weird, awkward I guess.. ever since..”

“Since he dumped you?” He sneers, pushing down on the gas pedal too hard and revving off down the street, luckily empty at this late hour.

“We weren’t together, not like.. not like how you and I are. I mean—“

“He took advantage of you..” Jeno shakes his head, zipping through intersections without bothering to slow down or stop. “He took advantage of you, and you let him.”

“That’s not—“

“It’s okay.” Hitting the brakes he stops, pulling into a parking spot with ease, using one hand to steer the wheel into place. “It’s okay.” Jeno repeats again, as if to reassure himself more than anything. “My dad, that fucking asshole..”

Pulling the shift into park, he leans back again, the back of his head slamming against the seat frustrated. “It’s not your fault. When I was a kid he used to psychoanalyze me too, used that shit to manipulate me.”

Johnny didn’t manipulate me, your lip twitches to say, folding your hands together as you purse your lips tight.

“He blamed me, you know— for my mom leaving..” Jeno’s tongue drags inside of his cheek, wandering eyes gleaming more beneath the night sky breaking through the windshield. “I never stood a chance against him honestly, even now I can’t trust he’ll leave you alone.”

“He does leave me alone, Jeno.”

“Yeah.” He pauses, turning halfway in his seat to face you, head tilted as he takes in your confusion. “I told him to leave you alone, is that a problem?”

“..and he agreed? Is that what he meant?” You ask wearily, picking up over time that Jeno can’t keep eye contact when he lies, becoming shifty and distracted as he mumbles.

He blinks slowly, tongue poking between his lips in thought without tearing away from your gaze. “I told him that I really like you, and for once in my life I want to have a chance at something genuine.”

Jeno’s playful demeanor you’ve become acquainted with(although still perplexing at times) seems to disappear the more he speaks, concerning you enough to take a hold of his hand. “Hey..”

He mumbles something hard to make out, sinking against his seat. “I hate seeing him around you, I know you don’t see it the way I do but.. he used you.”

Ouch.

How could Jeno so easily ruin your delusional high of believing his father had actual feelings for you with just a few words. It’s not worth discussing, not with him, he’d never see it the way you do.

Understandably so, to him Johnny may as well be the scum of the earth while he consumed your entire world, day to night; continuing to daydream of the future you could have with your boyfriend's dad. The idea alone fucked up enough to make you nauseous now, having to swallow the bitter taste of bile down. As sick as it is, Johnny had made a home for himself in your heart.. at least the parts Jeno hadn’t managed to infiltrate.

Half of you really contemplated choosing stupidity, ruin your chances of getting dicked down tonight. Perhaps spice it up, Jeno had become.. soft as of late, but the distress across his pretty face quelled your hunger for drama, for now.

“So, what you’re saying is..” you bend in closer, jerking his chin up to look at you, hand squeezing around his. “You really like me?”

Jeno’s smile returns, huffing out a laugh, hiding half of his face in the seat. “Fighting my dad for you wasn’t enough? I have to say it too?”

Shrugging, you lean in closer, biting at his earlobe. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear once in a while after years of thinking you hated me.”

“Well..” the sound of keys jingling turns your attention to Jeno’s hand coming up between you, eyebrow lifted suggestively. “I think you like it, actually— I know you love it when I fuck you like I hate you.”

“You’re gonna fuck me in the arcade?” You glance outside, ‘High Scores’ lights up the hood of his car, the rest of the street dim and empty compared to the bright neon light flickering above you. “Does Haechan know you’re risking his job to have sex uninterrupted?”

Jeno laughs, opening his door to get out and grab yours, the nice gestures still taking awhile to get used to.(This is the same guy that made you get out of his car and walk to school just to not be seen with you afterall.)

“Most he said is to not leave a mess behind and make sure I lock up when we’re done here.” Helping you out he pushes your back to the passenger door, gaze back to the excited playful one you prefer. “I can always fuck you here instead.”

Even now the thrill of secrecy reminds you of him... the times he’d pull you into the backseat of his SUV to steal a kiss; softly pecking your lips while mumbling that he needed a little taste of you everyday, thumbing at his bottom lip while he sat across from you during dinner and stole glances at you. The craving for more always lingering.

“Right here? Where anyone can see?” You ask, pretending to be shocked with wide eyes and clutching your chest. “You think I’m some whore you can just fuck on the street?”

Jeno bites down on his tongue, smirking and grabbing your hips. “I knew this dress would look good on you.” He hikes up the sides around your hips, lifting you up onto the hood to sit and make space between your thighs. “I like it when you listen to me.”

It’s little things like this that heat up your chest, stinging from within between guilt and a yearning need. The twisted part of your mind consumed by the thought that Jeno’s so similar to his dad, just younger, a little naive, but he’s definitely not as dumb as you had assumed.

“Do you think I look pretty?” You ask coyly, pulling his hips in closer with a tight squeeze of your thighs. Jeno wraps around your waist, face only an inch away from yours now, his tone lowering to a deep rasp.

“You’re always pretty. You know when I brought you around my friends I had to stop myself from putting Jaemin in a headlock with the shit he was saying.” His hands roam lower as he goes on, smoothing up the sides of your thighs to play with the straps of your underwear. “Had to remind myself that they don’t know about us.. yet.”

“Yet?”

Jeno hums, gathering your underwear to one side to swipe his thumb between your folds; his cheeks rising upon making contact with your wet entrance. “Once your mom gets off my ass it’ll be easier for us. I guess I’m still worried.”

He mumbles with lowered eyelids, grabbing onto your inner thigh to spread you open further. Not quite lying, not quite telling you the truth. “You still don’t trust me, right?

The skin between his eyebrows wrinkles slightly, long eyelashes fanning across the tops of his cheeks. “Seeing you with him today, I feel..”

“You can be honest with me baby.”

Jeno nods, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening, smearing two fingers over the outside of your entrance haphazardly. “I’m annoyed, I’m mad. I hate that he still gets to see you— to see you look pretty for me.”

“We didn’t talk.” You lie, cupping his face to smooth away the stress tightening his jaw. “He was just passing by.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” Jeno asks slowly, also familiar with the way you bite your lip when you lie. Even the smallest movement of biting one corner is enough to give you away.

“I’m not lying.” You say, tugging your lip in under your teeth with a smile, quickly moving to kiss his nose before he can continue interrogating you. Jeno’s eyes drop shut swallowing back his disappointed sigh, hand sliding away to grip your thighs and pull your core closer to his crotch.

“I know we don’t talk about this,” his face dips into the crook of your neck to hide, breath fanning down your throat mixing in with the chilled night air. “..and I know I can’t ask you to ignore him, we all live together..”

“Jeno” you say, pulling back to grab a hold of his face again. “We live together, you realize that? It’s always you, me.. and my mom unfortunately.”

He smiles at that, playfully biting at your thumb poking against the corner of his mouth. “I’m not used to my dad actually doing something nice for me.” Other than funding him with money, which hasn’t been the case as of late. Jeno considers that maybe you were the exchange, no more allowance but hey- I’ll let you have the girl.

Fixing his wind swept bangs to uncover his forehead, you wonder what exactly was said in this agreement; had Johnny really given up on you so easily? How could he say he still loves you and watch another man, let alone his own son, prance around in his face holding and kissing you? It didn’t make any sense..

Jeno shivers, smoothing your dress back down and nodding toward the Arcade. “It’s getting cold, wanna head inside and play?”

He helps you off the hood, taking a hold of your hand and using his other to unlock the front door. “Oh? You know, I can kick your ass at Pac-man.”

Jeno pulls you in, locking the door back up, the inside mostly dark aside from a few strips of neon lights bordering the ceiling. “Is that all you know how to play?” He laughs, drawing you further in with both hands taking a hold of yours. “We both know I can eat you up easily.”

Coming to a stop he flicks on a switch, the room coming to life with lights and mixtures of video game music from different machines. Most of them classic vintage games, a few pinball machines and air hockey table. Nothing much, but a gamers safe haven nonetheless.

“There’s Street Fighter, Ninja Turtles, Super Mario Brothers, Frogger..” Jeno walks around keeping you by his side, chuckling at your lost expression as you look at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. “Pac-man it is, winner takes it all yeah?”

“What are we playing for?” You grumble, feigning annoyance because this is not what you had in mind when Jeno texted you about sneaking out together.

“If I win, I get to do whatever I want with you.” He beams, eyebrows raising up and down before inserting coins into the game.

“What if I win?”

“If you win..” pouting his lips, Jeno sways in thought, snapping his fingers. “I get to do whatever I want with you.” He says proudly, displaying all of his pearly white perfect teeth.

“Don’t you already?” You say in an annoyed tone, nudging against his side and grabbing onto a joystick.

“There is one thing, actually.” Jeno lowers his gaze scanning down your figure, eyes ending on your backside. “I believe you know what I want.”

“Right now?” You have to splutter a bit, nervously squeezing your thighs together. “Won’t it hurt though?”

He laughs, barely, more of an act to stop himself from replying with ‘That’s the point.’

“No baby, it’ll feel good.” Jeno sticks out his pinky, jutting his pink bottom lip out covered with a sheen of spit. “I prom.”

“Prom?” You question, distracted by how enticing his mouth looks pouting at you paired with a wide glossy gaze.

“Half a promise,” he winks, locking your pinkies together. “It might hurt actually.”

“Jeno!”

“Winner takes it all!” He laughs, returning to focus on starting your game of Pac-man.

“Jeno, what the fuck! This isn’t fair!” You panic, immediately falling behind as his hand seems to blur and you crash into another ghost.

“What can I say? I’m a pro.” He says nonchalantly, the smirk painting his lips growing. “You know what else I’m a pro at eating?”

“Jeno!” You splutter, distracted by the wink he shoots at you as another sound of disappointment blasts from the game's speakers, on your last leg of life attempting to catch up to your opponent nearing the end.

“Winners win.” Jeno’s arms lift up proudly, boasting his victory with flexed biceps. “Losers lose.”

He keeps cheering, arms pumping and pretending to wave at a crowd as the game congratulates his victory. “You didn’t tell me you were good at this game!”

“Well, you said you could kick my ass.” He shrugs, grabbing your wrists and dragging you toward him. “It seems I will be the one beating your ass up instead.”

Jeno taps the pout that’s formed on your lips, disguising how irritated he feels in actuality. Tapping your bottom lip, he hums and leans back against a wall. “You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”

“Why do you keep asking?” You lilt, tilting your head suspiciously as you reach for his neck. Jeno snaps away too fast, quickly averting his gaze aside before you can catch his disappointment; his palms finding purchase around your waist and manhandling you against the wall.

“No reason,” he whispers, trapping your earlobe between his teeth and knocking his hips along your backside. “Don’t forget who won.”

The sound of his belt unlatching scratches at the back of your skull drowning out the arcade noises around you; with a bicep locking your arms together he wraps it around your elbows. The restraint tightens immediately, locking your arms in place behind your back. “Does it hurt, baby?”

‘Does it hurt badly?’

Pressing your cheek to the wall you shake, quietly muttering ‘no’, the churn in your stomach confusing you with arousal and guilt.

“That’s too bad..” pulling up your dress to bunch at your waist, Jeno slaps your ass softly, stroking his fingers over the roundness of your hips, dipping beneath the juncture between meaty flesh meeting thigh. “I know how much you love when it hurts.”

“Je—“

“Shhh.” Biting down on your earlobe, he tugs until you squeal, knees knocking together from the pain shooting through your ear. “See how you’re so fucking loud?”

Jeno sinks down into a squat gripping the sides of your ass and squeezing. His palms feel hot, heavy, digging his thin hard fingers into your cheeks. He pulls you open watching the thin string of your underwear fail to cover your holes completely, breath suctioning loudly between spit when he hisses and presses forward digging his nose against your barely concealed hole.

“Fuck!” You bite down, struggling to stay still on your toes digging deeper into the sole of your heels, his nose dragging up and down between releasing groans and deep breaths. The moans vibrating between the back of your thighs playing as a soundtrack for his disgusting euphoric high, leaving his mouth popped open, teeth catching onto bits of flesh hidden inside of you.

“So good.” Jeno laps at your rim, soaking up the thin piece of underwear there, teeth biting down and pulling away enough to watch your hole flutter. Slapping at your ass with a firmer hand he tugs the string off to one side, leaning forward to press his pouty lips against your hole. Mouth hot and breathy as he stays there tracing his words against your opening. “Want me to fill your little tight virgin asshole up so fucking bad, just look at the way you’re opening up for me already.”

As if on command slick drips down your inner thigh, rim convulsing around nothing. He snickers, tapping the tip of his finger against it. “So nasty, who taught you to be this fucking nasty huh?”

Oh.

Your eyes wrinkle together, hips jumping back in search of something wet, something to quell your need.

A succession of hard slaps stills your movement, ass stinging under his palm smoothing down, jiggling your cheek against his face. “Can’t even stop yourself, can you?”

“Please…do something.. please.”

Begging, you’re always such a beggar. Jeno can’t stand it, how your writhe and whimper, so desperate to get fucked. Can’t stand how pretty you sound when you beg, when you shout his name with your eyes facing the back of your skull. He can’t stand the way his cock jumps in his pants, twitching against his phone like a reminder.

“Ask for it.” His face rubs side to side, engulfed in your aroma, nose burying in and out of your hole teasingly. “Be a good girl, ask.”

“Jeno.. please,” sniffling, you have to shut your eyes to keep your mind blank. The similarities between two different men sit on your chest, sinking into the hollow, breaking down the bones and muscle protecting your heart. “Please baby.”

“Please what?” Pulling out his phone, Jeno double checks the silent button, hitting record and focusing on your ass sticking out; lower back making the shot from the way you dip in and arch out.

“Please, please fuck me…”

“Where?” He questions, tone falling deep, raspy, scratching up his vocal chords. “Tell me where.”

“My..” breath gets caught in your throat, hole clenching up as embarrassment flows down your face. Breaking out into a whimper at the first sign of moisture reaching the rims of your eyes. “My ass.. please fuck my ass.”

“That’s right,” Jeno groans, smoothing the pad of his finger around your wrinkled hole. “No one will ever fuck you the way I fuck you.”

Spit lands on your rim, the last shot he captures before sending the video off to a text message with ‘Asshole’.

‘Only for me.’

Pocketing his phone again, he focuses on collecting your wetness, swirling it together with his spit. The sounds of your needy whines only egg him on to work fast, lapping at the skin around his fingers until your knees bend and you shove back against his face.

Jeno contemplates for a second, mindlessly prodding the tips of two fingers in and out of your pulsating rim, your wanton cries driving him mad the longer he teases.

It shouldn’t hurt, but you deserve for it to hurt, because you’re a fucking liar, because you’d rather lie to him and allow his mind to wander.

Before he can shake away the worry, his phone buzzes, distracting him for a moment before pressing into your hole to keep you occupied.

‘Ask your little girlfriend about our conversation you rudely interrupted. I wouldn’t be so sure if I was you.’

Jeno can’t believe how fast this fucking asshole replies, nearly crushing his phone and jabbing his fingers into you roughly at the same time.

“Ahh!”

“Shut up.” He growls, shoving his phone away, proceeding to jackhammer two fingers inside your ass. A wad of spit lands around them adding a small amount of lubricant, his roughness forcing your ass to shake around the pressure.

“Baby please, ah!” Struggling to stay still, your toes pinch together, pushing your forehead against the wall with another cry. Tears stain down your cheeks the more he ignores you, muscles rippling up his forearm beneath pulsing large veins. “Please, slow..slow down!”

Another growl is all you hear in response, dipping in to lavv at the tough skin constricting around his fingers, his free hand reaching between your thighs to pinch at your clit and distract your mind from the pain.

Jeno’s ears fill up from the heat surrounding him, forcing another digit inside your hole and groaning at the visual of how obscenely stretched you are around him. Still managing to push in past your resistance, his stare burns, stuck on the little flex and pinch your ass gives with each push inside.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

A startled broken moan slips out of you, caught off guard by how deep, near demonic his vibrato’s fallen to. The surprise has your hips canting back full of fear, excitement, Jeno’s fingers digging deep into your ass pushing against your walls.

“Relax, you’ll make this hurt more than it has to.”

The glide of his nose pressing to your neglected hole has you jolting up, legs pin straight the second his tongue flicks at your clit. His hand reaches around grasping your thigh, strong hold pushing you to sit down on his face. He tongues at your bundle of nerves viciously, nose suffocated by the ridiculous amount of slick pouring out of you, the majority of it dripping down past the consistent small dip in and out of you, trickling a pathway down his thick neck, bobbing and struggling to breathe with his airway full of arousal.

“Ah fuck! I’m close!” Full of urgency you scream, hands twitching like crazy to grab onto something, anything to help you stay attached to reality. He only speeds up, the fat of his tongue dragging along your swollen clit roughly, powerfully working you into a faster frenzy until your thighs quake.

Jeno’s relentless, tongue blurring against your clit with speed, nose stuffed as deep as possible, the three digits curling up and pulling. Pain and pleasure hit a new high, bending your neck back into a deep arch as your climax hits and erupts hard enough to choke him between the wet squirt and weight of your lower half coming down.

Slapping down on your upper thigh, Jeno gags, coughing from the fluid filling his nostrils, fingers crooking up before sliding out and smearing the mess of spit down your leg.

“Come here.” He drags your lifeless body down to his lap, switching to hold his weight against the wall, lips landing against yours in a mess of heat. The drool pouring from your mouth blends with his spit coated lips vocalizing the hunger of your mouths fighting for dominance. “Wanna..”

Jeno pants, licking at every crevice of skin and tongue like a thirsty puppy, eyes glazed over as he gazes at your already wrecked face. “..see you, wanna see you.”

“Uh huh,” nodding you wrap around his neck, forehead landing against his cheek lazily as he positions you over his length. The whole act feels dirty, a memory you’ll recall someday; how silly it is to be a teenager having to sneak around just to get laid(all because you fucked your boyfriend’s dad). “See you.” You repeat breathless, cock dragging between your folds drenched by wet arousal that won’t stop leaking.

“Pussy dripping wet for me, know why?” Jeno’s arm squeezes around your middle, hot mouth dragging up your jaw to whisper in your ear. “Cause you’re a fucking slut, and all sluts know how to do is take cock.”

The cry you let out shaking your head with denial gets lost, Jeno capturing your bottom lip in a rough kiss and thrusting up to fill you halfway. He grunts, pushing your body lower to bury the rest of his length inside and swallow down your cries. “Slutty fuck hole.”

Eyelashes flutter along your cheek, hot tightness wrapped around his size drawing deep guttural moans out. Hips jerk upward, lodging the entirety of his length inside of you. He’s overbearing, sucking the moans out of your mouth, slapping down on your ass to move and ride his length despite your cries.

“Feel good?” Jeno’s bicep flexes, snaked around your waist tighter than a boa constrictor, making it harder to breathe with the incessant ramming of his hips fucking you up and down his size.

“S-so so so good,” you sigh between tears, scratching your nails through the back of his scalp and sweaty nape. “So good inside.”

He wants to be mean, wants to pull you off him, throw you down on the ground and fuck you like nothing but a useless whore; but he can’t. Mentally cursing himself out, he shifts to lay you down, throwing your thigh around his hip for leverage to grind into you, eyes burning over your dazed expression.

Pretty.

Kissing the backs of his teeth he fucks into you faster, chasing his own need to get off without much concern for yours. This isn’t about you, this isn’t about your glazed gaze, parted swollen lips, the tear tracks rolling down past your jaw following the dips of collarbone rising and falling at a rapid pace, breasts bouncing near out of your dress with each beating thrust.

Jeno feels crazed, hot, throat burning from the inside out from the endless groans tearing through his chest. Bending forward, his weight throttles into you, jostling you to slide up. Palms attaching you to the ground with a vicious chokehold. Teeth grit and grind, wrinkling the skin on his cheeks and forehead, cock fucking in and out, in and out, the loud squelch of wet somehow louder than your pleasured sounds combined.

“M’gonna..” Jeno gulps, swallowing the wads of spit and drool collecting at the sides of his tongue. “Fuck you, fuck you all night. Fuck your ass open, break you.”

Unsure he can even last with how tight you grip around him, Jeno pulls out, shushing the loud whine you let out, pouting and crying harder about how close you were. “Shh..” slapping down between your thighs, he licks at his lips hungrily, entertained by the way you twitch and cry, still lifting your hips for another slap on your pussy. “Turn around.”

Knowing you can’t do much with your arms constrained, he manhandles you onto your front, noting how your flesh folds over the leather belt, sure enough to leave marks behind the more you struggle. He pulls at the leather, shoving your dress to the top of your back completely bunched up, wrinkling the nice material that someone else would have stripped off of you gently..

“Mine.” Jeno swipes his fingers around your exposed rim, lightly laughing at how you jerk forward and arch out more. Cock slapping down between your ass with a hiss. “So pretty like this..”

He’s done bothering to prep you, on the brink of insanity listening to your shattered whimpers, the exhausted, depraved little way you repeat his name. “So mine.” Resting his length on your rim, he reaches lower, scooping a wad of wetness globbed at your entrance, the only extra he’ll spare you, smearing the mess of it up and down his size.

He presses to your rim, biting down on his lip hard enough to break skin and compress the growl trying to escape. “God, fuck.”

Jeno thinks he can’t breathe for a moment, sinking in through the insane tightness, his stomach sucked empty, raggedly inhaling the more inch by inch disappears inside of you.

He thrust shallowly, experimenting with short and fast grinds until every bit of his size can no longer be seen, eyebrows crushed together as he struggles to breathe and crashes a harsh slap down on your ass. The growl escapes similar to a feral animal on the run, animalistic much like each barreling thrust colliding with your ass.

Jeno loses it from there, a string of curses running off his tongue between groans, hammering his hips forward, his free hand reaching for one of your shoulders to press your chest down. The extra hold only enforcing more power behind each slam, burying his cock deeper than you can even begin to fathom. “Gonna fuck your ass all the time now.”

“Hurts! Hurts so much!” You moan, stuttering between each syllable, arching deeper for him to fuck faster.

“You love it.” He bends forward, chest pressed down on your back knocking out your air flow. His other hand trailing from your hip to slap against your cunt, fingers pressing down on your clit and rubbing in fluid motions of figure eights.

“Ah fuck! Baby!”

Jeno knows you’re close, tightening up around his cock making it harder for him to shove in past your resistance. Pussy quivering the more he plays with your clit. “Yeah, just like that.” He pants, thirsty like a dog, tongue wagging out drooling. “Fucking tight, so fucking tight.”

He starts fucking at an unreal speed, rapidly ripping past each clench. The growls behind you akin to a beast, sucking bits of your soul with each thrust bottoming out inside of your ass.

“Jeno!” It’s barely a whimper, too empty headed to process anything beyond the heat coiling down your stomach, toes curling against your heels, the cool wet smeared down your thighs.

A pinch at your clit has you leaking, squirting around nothing and clamping down on the cock filling your ass, Jeno’s hand drenched by your climax pouring to the floor around his fingers.

He can’t believe it, you really came from this, asshole stuffed to the brim with cock for the first time. The thought alone tightens up his balls, jackhammering against your limp frame, falling into sloppy mismatched thrusts until the heat in his chest snaps. Cock crammed down to the hilt jerking and pulsing inside your warm heat. Sticky and obscene, the thick milky cream collecting at the base of his length with each last pitiful thrust.

Jeno finishes up, throat visibly bobbing as he takes in your backside covered in the excess cum, dragging his wet cock on your heated flesh. The white liquid gliding down your soft skin, ass gaped and ruined, his arm reaches around patting for his pants in search of one thing.

Jeno types with one thumb, quickly filming a clip of his hand sweeping up the back of your thigh, rubbing his release into your skin, the last shot ending on your holes.

The text finishes sending, a pleased grin lazily fitting his face before leaning down to kiss the middle of your back.

He mumbles mindlessly against your damp skin, imagining his recipient's face opening the message, pleased by the thought of his father’s enraged face.

‘Only mine.’

#lee jeno smut #jeno smut #nct jeno #neopuppy fics #nct dream smut #nct smut #lee jeno #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction

[mc-lukanette]

Luka laughed into the phone. "Marinette, I'm sure you don't need lessons anymore. Your playing already sounds amazing."

"You say that all the time," she huffed, Luka grinning as he imagined the pout on the other end of the line. "Besides, it'll—it'll be different! We'll be in a real place you'd play music instead of your room, so you can judge my playing fairly!"

"Mhm~"

"And I already called Penny so she could get it! There'll be some extra time too if you want to call the others to practice—!"

"You don't have to try to convince me," he cut in, leaning back on his bed casually. "I'm looking forward to it."

"It? How—?!" She paused, then let out a sheepish giggle. "Right, our lesson. Gotcha. See you later!"

She hung up before he could reply. Still, he said a fond, "See you," into his phone even though she couldn't have heard it. As he took it away from his ear, he navigated to his gallery and tapped on the picture that Juleka had taken of Marinette's first guitar lesson with him.

More specifically, it was a screenshot he'd taken of Marinette's post online that contained said picture. He already adored the picture itself - even if he'd been a fool to be staring at Marinette while a camera was being pointed at him, trapping his love-struck face into eternal replay - but Marinette's caption just made it better.

Starting guitar lessons today courtesy of Luka! 🥰🎶

He grinned wider, the heart face in particular warming him. Regardless of how Marinette saw him romantically, she clearly thought highly of him and that was enough.

She was good - really good - at guitar, just like he knew she'd be. She listened to him with every lesson, asked politely for feedback, and was willing to admit when there was something she didn't understand.

The only tragedy that came with seeing her get better was knowing that their lessons would get shorter and eventually come to an end altogether. Luka vividly recalled Marinette asking Juleka to take a picture of her first lesson to post online, then muttering about how glad she was that pictures didn't capture the sound of her awful playing.

He honestly didn't think she sounded that bad for her first time, but he might've been too focused on the song she played without need of a guitar.

——

Eventually, Luka arrived at the TV studio, trying not to smirk too wide at the guards who now had to let him in. The ride up the elevator felt long compared to what he expected, but he knew he was impatient when it came to Marinette.

Even if it was as simple as a guitar lesson, he loved spending time with her.

He entered the room slowly, a mix of positive and negative memories rushing back to him at the mere sight: the designs and music in their video getting stolen, getting mocked by Bob Roth and XY, Marinette being threatened, and finally getting the justice they deserved that let Kitty Section play on live TV.

In the center of all of it was Marinette, who he saw sat down on the stage they'd played while holding a guitar - his guitar - in her lap. It was technically something he let her borrow, but he also had no intention of asking for it back. After all, he had two black-and-white guitars, not one. Both had the same base, but the neck design was different for them. The one he gave to Marinette continued the black-and-white theme with a monochrome neck, whereas the guitar he used for himself had a wooden one.

Because there was so little difference between them, it made it easy to instruct Marinette on where her fingers should go, especially when he could either guide her hands or use himself as an example. She'd always appreciated the ease of it.

Seeing her cradling it like she was, despite already having it for so long, made him unreasonably happy.

"Hey, Marinette," he greeted.

She made eye contact with him, her shoulders relaxing as he approached. Taking one hand off the guitar to wave, she greeted him back with a smile.

He took his guitar case off, then sat down next to her and set it beside him. He turned away from her to undo the latch keeping the case shut, but her hand caught his arm before he could.

"Wait."

Glancing at her, he raised a brow. Her face seemed oddly serious all of a sudden, but he couldn't imagine why she wouldn't want him to take his guitar out.

"I, ah..." She pulled her hand back, fingertips rubbing against her thumb self-consciously. "I wanted you to listen to something before our lesson?"

He perked up. "You wrote something?"

It hadn't been his intention, but his enthusiasm alleviated her anxiety. She took a breath, sheepishly averting her gaze as she replied, "Um, sort of?"

He leaned towards her with intrigue, watching quietly as she checked, double-checked, and triple-checked the guitar to ensure it was properly tuned. He wouldn't have doubted if she'd also checked it before he arrived.

He was absolutely fascinated. Marinette had already had so many talents and hobbies that he thought she was just picking up guitar for the sake of it or as a tool to get her emotions out, but for her to go and actually write something?

He couldn't wait.

Once Marinette was ready, she closed her eyes and strummed a simply melody. It was a warm-up that Luka had taught her - only drawing him in further - but the moment she was done, the real song began.

It started out slow and even a bit bitter. While she didn't add any lyrics, Luka could feel the emotions in the song: loneliness and a lack of hope. It sounded strangely familiar to him, yet he couldn't place it.

Then, the song picked up, and the familiarity came with it. It didn't take Luka any time to catch it because he'd not just heard it, but played it himself. It wasn't a perfect recreation, but it was the song he'd played for Marinette when they first met.

She'd remembered it all this time.

It took one more change of tune, but that was when it clicked for him: she was playing them. She was playing all of their moments together and how they made her feel, from their slightly shaky beginning to his song for her and everything after that. He swallowed, already overwhelmed.

It all culminated when she got to the day they'd learned their music video had been stolen. He could hear the anger of the realization, the low subtlety as they snuck into the studio together, the fear when Bob Roth threatened her, the shock when he'd gotten akumatized to save her, and finally the tenderness when he'd confessed to her.

It took a lot to put one's feelings into music. It required a sense of vulnerability that Luka genuinely admired in a person: the ability to lay one's feelings bare to someone they trust. He almost wanted to ask Marinette to stop - seeing the visible strain on her face at everything she was trying to play right - but he couldn't bring himself to tarnish her efforts in any form.

Thus, he kept listening, almost forgetting to breathe in his awe of her.

There had always been something he could hear in the background of her song whenever he was with her, but he hadn't been sure of it. He thought he may've been fooling himself or was simply mishearing, yet now Marinette was playing it right in front of him as if to make sure he heard.

Love. She was playing not just their experiences together, but her feelings for him. She hadn't fallen as hard as he had when they met, meaning that those feelings started small and only grew over time. He hadn't noticed or at least tried not to, unwilling to be wrong despite his intuition so often being correct.

This was her way of confessing, her way of saying that she cherished their time together, that he was important to her, and that she was even sorry for taking as long as she did for it all to come together. Luka couldn't imagine a single thing that she needed to be sorry for, and certainly not when she was making him feel such a way. His heart was pounding like it wanted to escape his chest and he could barely sit still.

Eventually, the song came to an end, Marinette's face flushed red as she rested her arms on the guitar. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she explained shyly, "Y-you did it in words, so I thought... I thought I should do it in your language." Turning to him, eyes glistening with emotion, she added, "I know I'm still learning, but I couldn't wait! I wanted you to know, and if I waited too long, I was afraid you'd—mmphf—"

He kissed her. He'd never been the one to just act, but his guitar was still in his case and he needed her to know that he still reciprocated regardless of how much time had passed. He'd even scooted closer to be within distance to kiss her, and the guitar that she'd used to play such beautiful music was suddenly a nuisance, keeping him from showing his full affection.

Marinette, either reading his mind or being naturally in sync with him, used a hand to move it off her lap and to the side opposite of him. Legs free to move, she turned fully towards him and grabbed his jacket to pull him closer, Luka moving in response to cup her face with both hands.

He'd already been breathless from her performance, but he held the contact as long as he could, no other thought in his head beyond showing her that she was loved.

When they both pulled back, it was only a few inches away from each other. Luka simply had no intent to get any further away than necessary and Marinette still had a firm grip on him.

They made some attempts to speak, opening their mouths a few times to form words, but nothing came out. He thought that perhaps she'd seen him opening his mouth and stopped herself, but the timing was all off. They were both lost for words that they didn't need anyway.

A gentle yet insistent tug was all he needed to kiss her again, thoughts of inviting the rest of Kitty Section there having been abandoned long ago.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

[prolix-yuy]

Episode 1: Old Habits & New Beginnings

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader "Snaps", Tim Rockford x OFC "Eden"

Summary: Rockford’s mask slips for a moment with Eden. Dieter and Snaps get to know each other.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), grinding, mutual masturbation.

Notes: Welcome to the first episode of Midnight Alley! The response to Simulated was so overwhelming I had to continue their story. This series is going to have some fun playing with form and storytelling both in and out of the show. I hope you all enjoy it!

For anyone who missed Simulated and needs a quick refresher, Dieter's character in Midnight Alley is Tim Rockford, and our reader character Snaps will be playing Eden, Tim's love interest. Lots more will come out in further episodes, but until then enjoy the fun babes!

Cross-posted on AO3

Midnight Alley Series Masterlist

A darkened room, moonlight filtering in through the blinds. The house breathes softly, expansively. No, not the house.

The couch shrouded in shadow moves. A hand reaches up, lined in silver light, and grabs the cushioned back. Knuckles prominent, but a feminine hand, twisting the upholstery in her fist. A car headlight rakes across the room, outlines of two bodies melting into the foreground before disappearing again. As the camera pans in, we hear whistling pants, and the rhythmic creak of the couch. A woman’s head is tossed back on the armrest, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut. A hulking figure presses her into the cushions, the dim light highlighting her legs braced on either side. As our eyes adjust her features come into focus, camera tight on her upper body. Her patterned blouse is open, draped in crumpled wrinkles across her heaving chest. She’s familiar, but we can’t quite place her. Her body shakes, back arching as a quiet, wet noise tickles our ears off camera. 

“Tim…” she croons, a rasp at the end as a large, blunt-fingered hand slides up her stomach to wrap under her breast. A pop, followed by a thick sigh. 

“Good to know you’re not mistaking me for God anymore,” a voice rumbles, thick with lust as we watch her smile and reach for him. When he shuffles up to kiss her, Tim Rockford’s broad shoulders stretch white cotton across the screen. He deepens the kiss but pulls away quickly, making her chase his smirk. She nips at his chin, smiling when he curls his fingers around her jaw and thumbs her lower lip. 

“God’s never touched me in the ways you do,” she retorts, voice like velvet and smoke curling through our ears. The camera holds on Tim’s face, a rare gentle smile carved in the darkness. We can’t recall the last time his cheeks weren’t cut with frown lines, the permanent wrinkle between his brows miraculously smoothed. 

“I’m grateful you let me into your garden of Eden,” he says, tracing her figure below him. She rolls her eyes, but it’s playful. Cupping his cheeks, his eyes flutter. We sit up, pay attention now. There’s something different about this one. Rockford always treats his women well, leaves them sated and glowing, but rarely gains more than a modicum of weight lifted. This is something new, something special.

“Pretty sure what you were just doing would get you kicked out of Paradise,” she shoots back, earning a huff from his parted lips. He shakes his head, a glint in his eye as he shifts back down her body.

“Good thing I’m not a God-fearing man,” he says, one expansive palm lifting her leg to drape over his shoulder. He dips down, keeping eye contact as her thigh obscures his scruff-dusted jaw, when…

“Cut!” Adam calls, cameras whirring to a stop with a cacophony of shuffling shoes. Dieter sits back on his heels, rolling his shoulders as you stretch out your bent knees on either side of his hips.

“I still think he should have a wet face when he comes up for air,” Dieter says with an edge of petulance. It makes you smirk, turning your face into the couch to hide it from the director, but Dieter catches it.

“I told you it’s too much Di,” Adam says back, the exasperated tone of a parent telling their kid one last time he can’t have a cookie before bed. But in this case the cookie is a stroke to Dieter’s ego.

“Just saying, Rockford would be all up in there. He’s getting soaked. He’s not kitten licking her to completion, man is covered from nose to chin,” Dieter reasons, the hollow shout of, “Knock it off, Bravo,” coming from the back of the room where the intimacy coordinator sits.

“I’m fine, Molly,” you call back, settling into the couch as you roll your ankles and flex your knee. You’ve got one more scene in this position then it’s a set change, but your butt has started going numb and your legs are stiff after the constant faux gyrating. 

“Here, let me Snaps,” Dieter offers, scooting back to the end of the couch and wrapping his warm palms around your calf. You warm at the endearment, the playful moniker a result of Dieter catching you taking photos of everything on set. From the makeup trailer to the sweet lady who hands you sandwiches, you documented everything on your first day back. It’s still surreal, knowing that your name isn’t going to be a one-time showing in the credits. The photos serve as proof when you’re lying in bed and worried that you’re in some bizarre longform dream. 

Dieter presses a thick thumb into the meat of your calf, searching for a moment before a sharp pain races into your pelvis. “Got this tip from All Hands, my hips kept aching after shoots and Joji taught me this acupressure spot.” 

The sensation is like liquid fire running up your leg, but something is releasing around your hip joint. Dieter holds pressure there for a little while longer before slowly releasing, the pain subsiding. His hands don’t leave though, remaining spread and soothing on your calf. His left creeps slowly past your knee, thumb stroking the delicate skin of your inner thigh.

“Good trick,” you say back as casually as you can muster. No one else seems to have noticed, and you’d like to keep it that way.

It had only been one date. You didn’t want to get your hopes too high. Didn’t want to touch him like he’s touching you in front of too many people in case he’s done with you in a week.

Definitely didn’t want to touch him like that night.

He’d picked you up from your apartment, and while you didn’t expect him to be wearing a gun holster or a ratty t-shirt-sweatpant combo, you were surprised at how nicely he cleaned up. A loud button-up that you’re sure is by Gucci or Versace or some other name brand, the top three buttons open to reveal his smoothly freckled chest. Devastatingly fitted dark jeans that made his already swoon-worthy thighs all the more gorgeous. Rings glittering on his fingers as he tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. The wild mane he’s known for, and that you covet, as tempting as ever. 

He was oddly demure when you came out to meet him. He gave you a hug, a whiskery kiss on the cheek, and ushered you into his car. It took two minutes of silent driving, your heart hammering in your chest, before he blurted out, “You look fucking amazing, I think my brain just vacated my body for a minute there. Am I driving?” The nervous giggles devolving into snorting laughter shook you both, fighting to regain composure at the stoplight.

It was easily the most fun date you’d ever been on. The place he took you was out of the way enough that paparazzi wouldn’t be hovering for photos, but not so intimate to assume it was a precursor to a quick fuck. The conversation hopped from past work to favorite hobbies and actor in-jokes. He complimented you on your theater training, you complimented him on his movie trivia knowledge. You shared tapas and white wine sangria, Dieter speaking to the servers and staff in Spanish with a warmth that hinted at a long-term friendship. You shared a caramel flan and he ghosted his fingers over your hand. 

It’s so different from what you thought Dieter might be like.

Sure, as he’d gotten older his escapades had faded several pages back into the tabloids, but he’d been wild for a time. A new scandal, a lover speaking out. Mostly things that inferred him being a wild partier, or an exhibitionist, or hedonistic to a point that made you blush. You half expected the date to be at a loud bar or a celebrity hot spot. The fact that it’s soft and quiet makes you reconsider how soft and quiet Dieter might be under all the bravado.

When he parked out front of your apartment you blurted out an invite up, which he accepted with a sly smile. The heat of Dieter’s presence tingled up your spine, but he only sat on your worn couch and accepted a glass of whiskey. So you talked. And talked. And laughed. And flirted. And you would have worried that he had a terrible time and was trying to let you down easy except for the fact that it was nearing one in the morning and he hadn’t left. 

When your anxieties bubbled to the surface and past your lips he pulled you into his lap and kissed you until your lungs burned and your head swam. “I wanted, for once, to take it slow. With you,” he admitted, sliding his hands up your spine with a sheepish smile. “Didn’t want you to think all I wanted was a one nighter.” When he cautiously looked up at you through his thick lashes your awe-struck smile smoothed the wrinkle between his brows.

Dieter didn’t fuck you that night. He deserved an Oscar for denying himself that, especially when you pressed so sweetly against his growing erection. Instead he guided your hips to roll against him, mouthing at your neck and telling you how good you felt, how pretty you were on top of him, how he couldn’t believe how sexy you are. A shuddering little orgasm flooded your brain, making you loose-limbed and heavy on his lap as he rocked you through it. The insistent lap of your tongue and scrape of your teeth against his mouth softened into indulgent kisses that dragged you closer to sleep. Dieter’s voice cut through the fog - “As much as I’d like to, I probably can’t carry you to bed with my shitty back,” - and he helped you stumble under the covers, leaving with a gentle kiss to your lips, another on your forehead.

That night would remain secret and special to only you. Something no one could syndicate. 

“Better?” Dieter asks, his attention narrowed in on your face. His fingers still dance inside your thigh.

“Much. Thanks Di,” you say breezily, settling into your starting position again. Dieter repositions, read to dive back in (figuratively). His coffee eyes catch yours again, a little anxiety of his own coloring his usually confident smile.

“Dinner at my place tonight?” he asks quietly, and he probably doesn’t know how vulnerable his voice sounds. It pulls a soft smile to your lips.

“Yeah, sounds great.”

Adam’s voice cuts into your conversation.

“Quiet on set!”

“Good thing I’m not a God-fearing man,” Rockford says, one expansive palm lifting her leg to drape over his shoulder. He dips down, keeping eye contact as her thigh obscures his scruff-dusted jaw, when…

The telephone rings.

They freeze, frustration etching deep into his face.

“I’m sorry, I have to…” he groans, untangling himself from her limbs. The camera cuts to the kitchen, an outdated corded phone hanging off the yellow wall. Rockford, dressed in dark slacks and an open button-down and undershirt, stalks in to stop the offensive ringing. He holds the phone to his ear, the steely expression melting into disappointment, and resignation. While he exchanges a few low questions with the person on the other end of the line, the woman emerges from the shadows. The brighter wash of light reveals that we do know her. She’s the one he picked up in the bar three episodes ago, now standing in a blouse she’s wrapped around her chest and a pair of white socks. She watches Rockford’s back, waiting a beat after he hangs up the phone to wrap her arms around him. He settles his hands over hers, head tilting back as she rests her forehead between his shoulder blades.

“They found something. It can’t wait,” he says simply, a weariness returning to his broad shoulders. “I can take you home on the way.” 

“I could stay,” she offers, Rockford turning in her arms. “So you don’t have to come back to an empty house.”

He cups her cheek, a grateful look quickly replaced with regret. She watches, nods. We all know that can’t happen. Not yet. There’s too much standing between them for him to accept. 

“I’ll get dressed,” she says, walking back into darkness. Rockford braces his hands on the door frame, hanging his head. He takes a breath, then follows.

The ungodly moan you let out makes Dieter’s lips quirk up into a prideful smile.

“That good?” he asks.

“Fuck, Di, where did you learn to cook like this?” you say through a half-full mouth of the best pasta you’ve ever had. His cheeks flush prettily as he pushes his own around the bowl, another forkful already on its way to your lips.

“I’ve got a handful of home runs I save for special occasions,” he says, taking a sip of the red wine he decanted while you were walking in the door. “But outside of that? I’ll gladly order takeout.”

“It’s fantastic, thank you for making it,” you say, enjoying how he busies himself with his plate to smile into his chest. It makes your own smile tug at your cheeks. You know how hot he can be, how sexy and thoughtful and suave, but he’s also cute?

After a spirited discussion about some of the dialogue in recent seasons - nobody talks like that coming up against it’s a play on the trope - you help clear the table and loiter in the kitchen while Dieter puts the dishes in the sink. The immaculate marble countertop, plus a little of the wine thrumming in your veins, tempts you to hop up and sit on it as he rinses out the wine glasses and sets them on a drying rack. The dishes are sparse, only four bowls, a handful of cups. The kitchen is artfully, but not practically styled. You meant to ask if this was Dieter’s home or if he was renting it, the modern pristine aesthetic clashing against what you know of him, but before you can voice your thoughts Dieter is standing in front of you, hands on your knees.

“Would you like some dessert?” he asks, the dip in tone carrying the thrum of your heartbeat straight between your thighs. Heat creeps up your neck and blooms across your chest, but you hold to the words Dieter soothed you with last time.

Take it slow.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, letting Dieter part your thighs to stand between them. One hand slips around your waist, the other skimming up your arm to cup your neck. He has to tilt his head up to look at you, and from this vantage you can admire the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the deep crease in his bottom lip, the little scar on the bridge of his nose from an old on-set injury. You can’t help melting into him, sliding your fingers into the unruly locks at the base of his neck and holding him precious in your hands. His eyes slip shut, and you swear you hear a low purr rumble in his chest.

“Something delicious,” he whispers before he pulls you down to meet him. 

It’s as intoxicating as the first time, his lips slotting between yours while he sighs like a man returned home. The tips of your noses brush as he tilts his head to better lick into your mouth, tannic laps as you savor each other. His hands pull you closer to the counter edge, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist. The plush flesh of his stomach presses against your core, and for a moment you imagine grinding against him, coating his skin in your slick. How he would look watching you writhe against him. Was he the kind of man to cast dark, demanding eyes along your skin, or watch you like a goddess with wonder?

A final sweep, and he parts from you with a little pant and shiny lips.

“Fuck, I said I was going to go slow and you’ve got me wanting to toss all that out the window,” he says, stealing a smaller kiss from your parted lips. 

“I like where this is going right now,” you say breathlessly, rolling your hips along his clothed stomach. He groans, pressing your foreheads together.

“I’d like to have dessert first,” he says, and you’re about to ask him how he can think of food at a time like this when two large, firm hands slide under your skirt and search for the hem of your panties. Once located, he drags them down your legs, aided by the lift of your hips. They’re a lacy pair, more substantial than a thong but not by much. He crumples them in his hand and slips them in his pocket.

“Can I eat your pussy, Snaps?” he breathes, ghosting his lips over the top of your thigh, dragging his nose along the stretch of your skirt hem. Your cunt is practically gushing, but you still have to laugh.

“I can’t believe you used that cliche-ass line,” you giggle, Dieter’s eyes snapping up to your mirth at his expense. 

“I think it worked,” he drawls out, and one hand slips between your legs to thumb at your soaked folds. “Made you fucking drenched, didn’t it?” Your tongue struck dumb, he steals a glance at your face. “Oh, yes it did. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he says, smug smile giving way to the open-mouth kisses he trails down your thighs as he fists your skirt up over your hips. The shock of cool marble on your bare ass steals your breath before Dieter’s lips pressing a chaste kiss just above your clit suffocates you. One large hand spreads across your chest, gently pressing you back to lay on the expansive countertop. Your whole body thrums in anticipation as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, pressing your hip open so he can breathe you in.

“Fuck, Snaps, you’re not dessert, you’re a whole damn meal,” he groans. A retort dances behind your teeth before dissolving to nothing when Dieter’s tongue slides slowly over your clit, savoring your taste. He pulls back, staring at your silky pussy on display, then with a whispered, “fuck,” he dives in for more. 

The tenacity and fervor with which Dieter slurps and moans into your cunt clenches your walls and bows your spine. He grips your thighs, spilling flesh between his fingers as he swirls his tongue on your clit and sucks greedily. There’s nothing for you to hold onto on the smooth counter, so you bury your fingers in his hair to an approving growl that vibrates your core.

“Just like that, you tasty little thing, give it a good pull if I’m doing well,” Dieter rasps, sliding his tongue down to prod your entrance. Thighs tightening, hips rolling, you feel gloriously untethered to the world except for Dieter’s touch. After working his tongue inside you he presses deeper into your folds, hawkish nose sliding over your clit. He rocks his face against you, a mess of his pulsing tongue, hot puffs of air against your intimate flesh, and his dark eyes coaxing gush after gush of slick into his waiting mouth. 

Fuck ever faking it with him again, Dieter could rail you on set in front of craft services and you’d thank him for it.

The shudder of your impending orgasm raises your voice, hoarse gasps and whines as Dieter intensifies his technique, rubbing hard circles on your clit with the tip of his tongue and sliding one perfectly thick finger inside you. You throw an arm over your eyes, coherent enough to whimper and weakly wail when he presses into your g-spot and drags your clit along his tongue in a neverending roll. It’s right there, you’re going to cum on Dieter’s face, when…

A phone rings.

Dieter’s phone.

The harsh tones of Apple’s default ringer still your hips, Dieter’s mouth still moving against you. 

“Di…” you call out weakly, tapping your fingers against his temple to get him to look up at you. His mouth pops off, and true to his on-set assumption he’s coated from the bridge of his nose to the base of his chin with your slick. It glistens in his mustache, one silvery smear dragging up his cheek. His eyes are glassy and fucked-out when he meets yours.

“Wha’s wrong?” he slurs, licking his lips and suppressing a groan. Your cunt clenches hard, screaming to cum.

“Your phone,” you say, the glow across the room visible from the coffee table. He looks over at it for a moment, slow blinking when he returns to your face.

“And?” he asks, blankly taking in your nervous energy.

“It could be…something…important?” you squeak out, legs still splayed lewdly around him. He watches you for a moment more, puzzling through something, before understanding dawns on his face. 

“How much like Rockford do you think I am?” he asks, leaning down and pressing a sticky kiss just above your bellybutton. It makes your abdomen jump, the tickle of his mustache trailing as he slides your shirt up below your breasts. “Do you think anything at all is worth tearing myself away from your gorgeous fucking body?” He licks a line up to your bra, scraping his teeth on the supple skin. “You think a phone call could stop me from making you scream?” 

His hands and mouth still, prompting you to sit up to stare at his hungry face. Hair disheveled from your hands, a flush across his cheeks, and a devious smile all answer his questions, but you know he needs you to say it.

“No.”

His smile turns devilish.

“Good girl.”

With increased voracity he returns to your cunt, sucking his fingers into his mouth before strumming them quickly over your clit. The stimulation arches your back and snaps your thighs closed around his head, only stopped by one hand pressing you open mercilessly. The wrecked gasp he tears from your throat stops the onslaught, redirecting two fingers deep into your cunt to press hard into your g-spot, his hot tongue back on your clit with a pattern of quick circles and soft laps. You scrabble for his hair, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the fingers wrapped around your thighs. He finally gives you something, threading your fingers together so you can grip him while your orgasm burns you from the inside out. Your lungs scream, eyes screwed shut as Dieter pours molten pleasure into you, fire and ice and ecstasy. He growls into your cunt, refusing to stop until your spasming hips fall back to the counter and each breath ends on an overstimulated gasp. Only then does he lift up to gather you in his arms, pulling you around him so he can mouth at your neck and trail kisses back to your gasping mouth. He strokes long paths up and down your thighs, letting you drape over his broad shoulders and rest your head. Faintly you still hear ringing, but so far away that it could be a dream.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs into your ear, earning a weak tug of his hair. “I knew you’d be fucking delicious.” 

“Shit, Di, did you suck my soul out?” you joke, laughter rumbling you both.

“Now you know how I felt when I first saw you,” he muses, stroking the back of your neck. You turn your face into his throat, savoring the warmth and masculine scent of his sweat. The ringing pauses for a few seconds, then starts back up again. 

“Do you need…” you ask, leaning back to smile down at Dieter. He rolls his eyes.

“On principle I’m not going to answer it for the rest of the night. Camille has my calendar, she should know better,” he says, dipping his head to scrape his teeth on your collarbone. Your thighs clench around his waist, his supple mouth dotting a kiss over his teeth marks.

“Unlike Rockford, I don’t put my work above my partners,” he says nonchalantly, as if that word doesn’t make you lightheaded. “I also don’t drown myself in drink and drugs as heavily, or engage in as much casual sex as I used to.” His hands splay wide over your back, brushing your noses together as you fight to meet his eyes. “My dark and brooding past is mostly full of self-loathing and coping mechanisms, not failed murder investigations.” Dieter draws you closer to the edge of the table, his hard cock grazing your core just enough to make you hum into his ear. “And I’ll make you cum three times tonight, not two.”

You take a playful nip at Dieter’s ear, the clink of his earring against your teeth thrilling.

“Is your technique as good as his?” you ask innocently, his hands suddenly possessive on your skin. 

“Better,” he promises. Then he takes you to his bed and proves it.

END

#dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #tim rockford x ofc #prolix fics #midnight alley

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Numbers 1, 13, 17, and 18 sound very interesting! Are there any snippets that you can share?

oh my 🥹 a lot to get through! hold on tight 💀

unnamed fic number one also known as spy, has a lot going on 😭

it’s very much inspired by the Alex Rider series (specifically the book: Point Blanc) - for those who don’t know what that is, it’s about a young boy whose uncle dies, and he becomes deeply entangled in a world of espionage while trying to find out who killed him. it’s really good, and they have a tv series out for which season 3 is airing in April - give it a watch! i take this concept and sort of run with it - so Harry is an in-coming seventh-year Hogwarts student who finds out his Godfather, Sirius, has died during an auror mission gone wrong. he knows someone isn’t being honest with him - and he doesn't plan on resting until he has answers. here’s a cut:

Harry takes a look around. What was it that Sirius’s mind healer used to say? Five things you can see?

He sees rows and rows of conjured chairs, a raised platform, delicately floating candles - unlit, and the billowing peak of the tent. More than ever Harry can hear Sirius’s dismay at the lack of clowns in attendance.

It’s safer here, so Harry cracks a smile and finally settles his eyes on the dark, gleaming black coffin in the very centre.

He walks carefully through the rows of chairs all circled around it and stops just before the platform raises. Harry feels the telltale sign of overwhelm brew like a potion just behind his eyes, but he shakes it off, tries to delay it. Harry is aware now that he stands there for a long, long while.

Taking a deep breath, Harry places both hands on the edge of the coffin lid and pushes up.

It doesn’t open.

————

mockumentary, also known as fic number thirteen: triwizard tournament, was discussed a bit here! but it never fails to make me laugh, so i’ll share another little cut 🤣

-

Olympe rises from her chair and towers over them. The camera tilts up until it can’t anymore and still cuts off the top of her head. She walks over to the balcony, ducking to pass through the doorway, and crosses her arms behind her back.

She gazes down at the fury of elegant chaos, a smirk creeping up her mouth. The seventh-year students are gliding to and fro, preparing to leave in abraxan-drawn carriages while the younger years watch on with wide, awe-filled eyes.

She continues, “Zhis year will not be une répétition of seventeen-ninety-two.”

————

unnamed fic number seventeen, also known as assassins, is vague one 💀

when I originally wrote down this idea, it was this: spy fic concept - Tom is an assassin, and Harry is a spy; they keep running into each other on various missions and have developed an unlikely friendship. NON-LINEAR - back and forth between past and present narrative — here’s a cut!

When Tom arrived on location, it was to a mess.

Harry Potter never held any qualms or hesitations. If there was a job that needed doing, and the justifications were moral enough, he would do whatever it took to complete it successfully. Unfortunately for Tom (and the meaningless lives that tended to be involved), Harry Potter’s modus operandi typically included wide-scale destructive explosions or the occasional all-out brawl.

This particular scenario happened to showcase the latter.

Potter was panting over an unconscious body. Possibly unknowing to the splatter of blood dotting across his chin, cheeks and nose like crimson freckles. It seemed that he’d been here much longer than Tom - deep cover, likely for months now judging by his scruffier than usual appearance. That hair in particular.

Tom exhaled softly, and thought, He looks good in red.

————

interview with a dark lord, also known as fic number eighteen, is pure nonsense 🤪 here's a cut:

-

Harry glanced over his notes, shuffling them around once, then twice. His eyes fell on one of the many, many questions he and the other Gryffindors had compiled over the night.

“Would you say your field is expanding or decreasing?” Harry asked.

“Decreasing,” Voldemort replied without hesitation. Harry’s scar prickled with something vast and telling - something that felt a lot like immense satisfaction.

A morbid curiosity reared its ugly head. “Really?” he asked and squinted his eyes a bit at Voldemort, looking him up and down. “You don’t seem to be taking that very hard?”

“Yes, and why would I, Potter?” Voldemort leaned back and crossed his legs, definitely looking smug. “It is not Dark Lords; it is Dark Lord. If my field is narrowing, and I remain the only one, all’s the better.”

————

if you'd like to send me a wip, please do! my ask box is open 🥹

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #my fic #tag game #ask game #knights meeting #fic: interview with a dark lord #this is so late #i'm sorry 😂

[cas-skz]

Work Pleasures

Namjoon x fem!reader

Your best friend suggests a new way for you to make extra cash and your office had the perfect background, but the vent system makes things take an interesting turn.

18+!!! MDNI

warnings/what to expect: sex toy play, pet names: daddy & slut, rough sex, spanking, cum shots, unprotected sex, dom male, recording during sex, partial creampie, lots of dirty talk

BTS & SKZ FIC REQUETS: OPEN

writers note: yes hello, did I try a new writing style again? yes. please let me know what you think, id' really appreciate it. I read through this once but ya girl aint the brightest so forgive me for grammar and spelling mistakes. ANYWAYSSS i hope you like it cas xx

Counseling at the high school wasn't cutting it anymore. Between bills, car payments and food, life was getting more and more expensive. Maybe that's how you found yourself in this position, parading around your office, after school hours, in a lacey bra, an oversized dress shirt and short plaid skirt. The camera was low enough to not show your face, but the viewers could still tell you were in some sort of office space. "You seriously think this will work?" You questioned, speaking to your best friend who was on the other line of the phone. It was her idea after all, since her sister had made a pretty good chunky of money from OnlyFans. "Yes, and Mel is gonna promo you on her page so you'll get attention right away." You groan quietly at her response, quickly ending the call and setting your phone up as a second angle.

You tried to keep your moans quiet as the rabbit vibrator worked slowly on you, your free hand playing with one of your breasts as you whispered pet names to the camera, just another thing your friend had suggested. "Fuck Daddy." You moan firmly, arching your back slightly in the chair as you felt your climax approaching.

"You know-" A voice suddenly interrupted, causing you to shoot up in your chair and quickly turn off and stash the toy in your desk. You felt your cheeks burn red, jumping up to turn off the camera and hiding your exposed chest. Fuck. I'm finished." You turn slowly, hands gripping tightly at the edge of your shirt. Principal Joon stood tall in the door way, and to your surprise, was smirking. In your 3 years at the school, you swore you never saw the man even crack from his usual stone face. "The vent -" His finger pointed towards the vent, directly behind your desk as he stepped in the room, his keys being tossed aside as he closed the door behind him. You clenched your thighs together, the throbbing feeling returning to your clit as he walked slowly towards you. "It leads to my office, and you aren't very quiet Ms. Y/n"

What do you even say in a situation like this? More importantly, what do you do? Your eyes shyly scan the taller man, who's hair was messy compared to the usual slicked back, his brown eyes looking at you with desire as his fingers worked at his belt, the bulge in this pants being the main point of attraction for your eyes. You let your gaze fall to the ground, starting to feel innocent of all things, like it wasn't a problem that you were masturbating in your office. "I'm sorry Principal Joon, I promise it's a one time thing. It won't happen again." You played into the persona, flashing puppy dog eyes as you let the dress shirt drop open, allowing your breasts to expose. What were you thinking. Did you really get yourself that worked up? A single laugh escaped his lips as he closed in, his pants now slightly undone and his belt positioned on his hand. “Still, bad girls need to be punished.”

Principal Joon smirked down at you as you stare at his cock, thick, veiny and the perfect length, your hand pumping it slowly as you explained yourself in a sweet voice, his facial expressions reacting with small laughs and smiles when you mentioned OnlyFans and needing the extra cash. His hand balled in your hair, guiding your face closer to him as his hand replaced yours, stroking his cock. “I'm sure a pretty slut like you would do very well.” Principal Joon smirked, one hand jerking himself and the other holding your head back, eyes directly on him. “So let’s make you some money.” His words grunted as a stream of cum flew on your face, coating your lips as cheek. You happily cleaned it up with your hands and swallowed every bit you could.

Pulling you towards him, Principal Joon gently grabbed your jaw, his lips lingering near yours, “slut” he smirked, his lips pushing into yours, his coffee breathe hot against against you as his hands trail to your hips, rolling them into his as he moved you towards your desk. There’s no going back now. Might as well make it worth it. “Am I still going to punished, sir?” You question, your bottom lip sticking out slightly as your fingers worked to unbutton his shirt, exposing his rock hard abs. Principal Joon's grip tightened on your waist, shooting an evil grin at you before turning you around and pushing you against the desk, bare bottom exposed. His large hand slapped down firmly, sending an echo through the room. “You were a bad girl. You need to be punished.” He spoke firmly, another slap landing on your ass, causing you to wince.

Principal Joon didn’t let up with the teasing. Bringing you to the edge of orgasm before leaving you high and dry for a few minutes, only to start again. This really is a punishment, leaving you throbbing and cock hungry. Your ass was red with slap marks, pussy swollen and wet from his fingers working on it vigorously. “Please sir” you whimper, turning slightly to see the male, your puppy dog eyes shooting him a look as your hips rocked slowly. “Please fuck me, I need your cock.” You begged, your hand reaching towards your core as you spread your pussy lips apart, a finger teasing your entrance for him. His hand smacked down on your ass again, the sting making your hips jerk. “You think you deserve it?” He questioned, his hand slowly pumping his cock as he ran it slowly over your entrance, to your clit where he rubbed it slowly, “You’ve been such a bad girl already and bad girls shouldn’t be rewarded.” He smirked, his cock actions repeating their movements, his tip pushing in you just the tiniest bit. You moaned quietly at the feeling of flesh on flesh, your body wanting more of him inside you. Was he always this attractive? Why haven’t you thought about fucking him before? Why are you suddenly so desperate for him. A million thoughts ran though your head as you laid out, waiting for Principal Joon to make his next move.

To your surprise Principal Joon grabbed your phone to film his view, two fingers sliding easily into you. “You think you can handle this big cock?” His words made you shiver, your hips uncontrollably pushing into his fingers, wanting more. “Such a little slut.” He teased, removing his fingers and slapping your ass firmly once again. Finally, he shoved his cock deeply into you, a small whimper escaping your lips as he started thrust, giving you no time to adjust to how big he actually was. “Fuck Daddy, you feel so good” you whine, hands gripping the edge of the desk as he paddled away at your ass, the marks already burning but still exciting you each time. Principal Joon was a lot rougher than the other people you had been with and he made you tell him exactly how everything felt. Suddenly, you felt Principal Joon bottom out inside you as he reached forward, placing the phone on some books so you were both in view. His hand balled into your hair, hips slamming into you at close rang so you could feel just how big he was. “This one’s just for me. I like watching my little slut get fucked.” he whispered in your ear, his lips pressing into your temple as your walls started to tighten around him. His little slut? You could get used to that.

His hand covered your mouth, muffling your moans as he pounded into you, each thrust a masterclass in raw ecstasy as you peaked, body shaking with pleasure as juices leaked from your pussy. “Good girl.” He groaned, his thrusts only letting up the smallest bit as your body vibrated. He kept himself fully inside you as he reached for the phone again, tossing it to the side and turning all his attention to you. His hand moved some hair from your face, lips reaching over to find yours, deep passionate kisses being exchanged as his thrusts slowed, each stroke making you twitch with pleasure. His teeth found your shoulder as his thrusts picked up again, bites and kisses being placed randomly. “Does my good girl deserve to get her pussy filled?” His words were hot against your ear, lips now working at your neck. It made you shiver and happily moan. “Or am I going to make a mess on that pretty little face again?” He questioned, his cock pulling out mostly but leaving enough to keep you pleased. What the fuck do I say? Think, quick! Sure, you have had fantasies like this but now…being put on the spot. Your mind was blank. “Whatever makes you happy Daddy.” You finally say, your eyes glancing up at the man who’s hands ran over your body, gently rubbing the fresh marks he had left on you.

“Are you planning on keeping Daddy happy?” He questioned, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk creeped onto his lips. Principal Joon pulled you up from the desk, turning you to face him as he kissed you once more, sending tingles through out your already exhausted body. He leaned into you as his lips worked on yours, positioning you on the edge of the desk. The dark pink head of his member rubbed your clit slowly, soft moans escaping your lips as he pushed in and brought himself back to your lips. “Answer me.” He demanded, though his voice was soft and his eyes looked at you weakly. It’s just a fuck buddy. Bri did say you needed one. “Yes Daddy” you quietly reply, lips finding his once more. It only took a few more thrusts until you felt Principal Joon‘s cock twitch inside you, thick cum escaping his length before he pulled out, emptying the rest of his load on your stomach. His lips stayed on yours, slow kisses being exchanged as your bodies both settled.

“You sure you want that online?” He teased, his fingers working to button his shirt as you cleaned up. “I just don’t want your friends getting jealous.” Principal Joon moved towards you with your jacket in hand. “Jealous?” You question, allowing him to help you put it on before turning to face the man. His cheeky little smirk returned to his lips again, one finger making your head tilt up to gaze into his eyes. “Mhm- I’m sure none of your friends will be getting fucked as good as you.” His lips pressed into yours once more before you both exited. Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. He did leave you soaking and weak in the knees. Principal Joon walked you to your car, a hand firmly gripping your waist to keep you stable. He opened the door for you before pressing another kiss into your lips. “Don’t forget to send me that video” he said against your lips.

#part of me wants to make this a series YIKES #NAMJOON IM SORRY IM SO SORRY BUT IM NOT #bts fanfic #bts smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #bts x reader #bts fic #bts au #bts rm smut #bts namjoon smut #kim namjoon #rm #rm smut #rm fanfic #smut #bts x female reader

[vigilantebarbie]

i keep my jealousy close chapter one

chapter two

It all started with finding out that there was a vigilante in Evergreen, appropriately named Vigilante. It scared the shit out of you knowing that there was some murderous person out there who seemed to be killing anyone who broke even the smallest law.

Some jaywalker had been found cut to ribbons one morning, and another day someone the traffic cameras had picked up speeding through a red light was found shot in their car. You didn't realize how bad it was until you went into the Italian restaurant, Fennel something, next to your laundromat to break a $20 when you overheard the staff gossiping about the latest death. Some bank manager who was on trial for embezzlement was found dead in his home, along with his partners in crime. "It was another Vigilante job, apparently. The security cameras were cut before the murder." The hostess squeaked out, sounding almost panicked when she said that, almost like she was guilty of the crime herself. She looked barely older than sixteen, so there was no way in hell she could even commit that sort of crime. Not if she was working at a restaurant for her first job.

"Maybe the bank guy killed someone, Madison. Personally, I'm glad Vigilante got rid of him so now we're all safe." Your head whipped around to find out exactly who had said that & your eyes settled on who appeared to be a busser, based on the half-full dish tub in his hands, standing there and looking directly at the hostess, Madison, with what looked to you like anger and disbelief. Vigilante had a fanboy, who knew? "The less scummy people the better if you ask me" Fanboy chimed in before Madison could get another word in "But what if I accidentally run a red light like that guy last week? I'm only seventeen, Adrian!" This was going to get interesting fast. Sitting down silently to watch the two argue for a few minutes before clearing your throat to finally get your change so you could do your laundry.

Both of them jumped at the sound of your voice, Madison hastily apologizing for making you wait. "It's okay, promise" You assured her with a genuine smile "I was just wondering if you could break this $20, the change machine at the laundromat only takes fives and ones." You were semi-new to Evergreen, you needed a fresh start after ending a long-term relationship that hadn't made you happy since the beginning. Leaving that loser behind was the best thing you had ever done for your mental health. But now you had to make new friends and create new experiences. Thankfully you were a writer and could work just about anywhere since you always got to work from home.

"Sure thing!" Madison chirped, counting out loud as she counted the change a little slowly, but who could blame her? Numbers suck. You couldn't help looking around as you waited, noticing the fanboy busser, Adrian as you recalled hearing Madison call him. You definitely admired the guy for being able to work semi-peacefully with a teenager. You'd never really liked teenagers, even when you were one. He had to be around your age, roughly late twenties.

Trying to not stare when he heaved the full bus tub up with ease, you turned your attention back to Madison, fairly certain that Adrian had seen you looking at him. “I appreciate it. Hopefully, I won’t be back to break a bill again & actually remember to get what bills I need for laundry. Or save for a washer & dryer so I don’t have to go to the laundromat anymore.” You rambled. Now you had to actually leave before they started to judge you for not being able to shut up. "Anyhoo, see you guys around" Raising your fingers in a salute, you turned and left, hearing Madison mumble "Old people are so weird" on your way out the door. Shoving the change in your pocket while you went back to the car to get your laundry and headed into the laundromat with your airpod knock offs connected, portable charger ready to go, you put on a podcast to listen to while you passed the time between loads being switched over, thinking about the weirdo from the restaurant. Why had he defended Vigilante so eagerly? And why had you been so impressed by the way he lifted that full bus tub onto his shoulder? You couldn't get that image out of your mind for some reason and it was driving you insane. So much so, that your Fitbit picked up your heart rate increase while you were sitting there, listening to two strangers talk about American Girl dolls or whatever.

Little did you realize that Vigilante fanboy, Adrian, had noticed you too, and had heard everything you told Madison about the laundromat. After his shift ended, he made his way to his car, conveniently parked close to yours without him even realizing it. He could see everything through the big window, watch everything you were doing. That was creepy. But he couldn't bring himself to look away while you sat on top of the laundry counter, singing along to some song he couldn't hear, swinging your legs and aggressively pointing your finger like you were at some punk show and not doing errands.

This wouldn't be the last time he'd see you, he decided. It couldn't be. Not when you were so intriguing.

#i keep my jealousy close #adrian chase #adrian x reader #adrian x you #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #peacemaker 2022 #me finally posting my fic here? yes but slowly

[hibiscusangel15]

Merch haul from the SF Gorillaz concert. The Murdoc button was handmade by a fan who passed them out to us while we were waiting in line :’)

Image ID under the cut:

[Image ID: First picture is a combination of buttons, stickers, and a pink water bottle with the band members on it. Pins have magenta backing and the individual characters on them plus two Pazuzu buttons. One Pazuzu button has lightning bolts and the other has black arrows spinning out from the middle.

Button on the bottom is of Murdoc holding his bass and sticking one of the strings through his teeth as he smiles. It was handmade by a fan who kindly handed them out to others waiting to get in.

Water bottle is pink and has band members encompassing it from left to right: Murdoc, 2-D, Noodle, and Russel.

Several stickers with a gray backing. Pink Gorillaz logo, pink lightning bolts and fists, pink lightning bolt Pazuzu, pink Pazuzu with black arrows swirling out, triangular sticker with pink backing and Murdoc floating cross-legged (and cross-eyed) in the middle in his cult leader outfit, a head with pink liquid pouring out of a pitcher into it that reads: “Just doing OUR JOB”, The Last Cult sticker, No more Zeitgeist anymore sticker, and stickers of each of the band members.

Gorillaz North America Tour Fall 2022 poster. Pink Gorillaz graffiti logo across the top. Band members stand to the right with Russel in the top center, Murdoc hiding behind him and poking out of his right side, Noodle in the bottom left, and 2-D in the bottom right. Tour dates are listed on the left.

A poster of the Great Leader Murdoc. He is wearing dark magenta cult garb and has a scraggly black and white beard.  A gold chain hangs off his neck and swings to the left. A wheel logo with arrows sticking out of the spokes rests over the right side of his chest. He holds his hand over his abdomen to reveal his thumb and middle fingernails painted red. He is also wearing a gold ring with Pazuzu stamped in the middle on his middle finger. The background is a spotlight on him from behind.

Pink Russel shirt. He is smoking a cigar and holds his hand out while he faces right with his eyes closed. His other hand rests on top of a three drums with the American flag painted down them. Russel is wearing a blue beanie and red jacket with gold cuffs.

Purple Murdoc shirt. It’s more elderberry colored. Murdoc holding a black and pink bass straight in the air with one string stuck between his teeth as he grins at the camera. He is wearing a dark green leopard-print shirt and black pants. He wears his gold anticross necklace and a new chain with Pazuzu’s gold head in the middle. There is a faint blurry purple background of a city and white car behind him. On his bass is a faint Ace of Spades card and a crude doodle of 2-D behind the strings.

Magenta Noodle shirt with her crouching down and holding her guitar slanted right and down towards the floor. She has short red hair and round, white sunglasses with red lenses. Her jacket is extremely colorful and full of random logos. She is also wearing a Crayon Shin-chan necklace. She is wearing brown boots with tan straps over the toes. A white Kabuki mask hangs off her hip.

Light pink 2-D shirt as he stands facing left with his eyes closed. He holds a white melodica over his head. He is wearing a fuzzy blue and pink shirt, a silver beaded cross necklace and a yellow and blue bracelet on his arm.

Black Gorillaz North America Tour shirt. The front features the band members while the back lists the dates.]

#bought damn near everything #dont ask me how much i spent i will cry #Gorillaz #Noodle #Murdoc Niccals #Russel Hobbs #2-D #Stuart Pot

[ideasvoid]

Hiii I hope you still take requests :) if so can I request survivor reader who's from ormond and knows legion and jeffg but ends up having a thing with a different killer? (Preferably deathslinger or ghostface- which is only half licensed so im not sure if you do write for him)

Thank you <33

Hello my lovely <3 I can most certainly try. I apologize if this isn’t exactly what you wanted, you didn’t specify too much on a scenario but that’s ok :) I will always hop at the chance to write my boy Caleb, he needs more love.

I hope you enjoy!

Ghostface - Danny Johnson/Jed Olsen

Sparks burst forward from the rust machine and you quickly raise your hands to shield your face. To say the trial wasn’t going well would be an understatement, currently David was being pulled up by that thing, Claudette was next to you, and the last you had seen Jeff was Two generators ago. Something was off, very wrong yet no matter how you strained your mind you couldn’t put your finger on it.

The machine erupted again, pulling you back to reality. Whatever that was anymore. Claudette stared horrified at the generator, her hands shook horribly and you could see the tears begin to well up behind her cracked glasses. You open your mouth to speak but the sound on a twig snapping cut you off, your throat going dry in seconds as your heart rate spiked. The snap was intentional, it always was.

Click, flash.

The two of you hopped to your feet, splitting off in different directions into the snow. The familiar cold stung your face and hands, fingers somewhere between a stinging pain and numbness that you hoped wasn’t the beginning of frostbite. Crunching of snow faded into the dull thumps and creaks of the wooden floor as you ran through the halls of the decrepit lodge of Ormond. You had spent so much time here before, now those memories felt like another life.

Clinging to the stair railing, you stopped. Straining to hear any footsteps. Was he gone? Certainly he wouldn’t have given up so easily,

Click, flash.

You bolted up the remaining stairs. You knew Ormond like the back of your hand, just up these stairs and around the corner and could jump out that window in the large room – a sudden tug at the back of your shirt halted your moment, said window mere feet away. The sharp edge of a knife came to gently glide along your throat, teasing, for now.

A long whistle came from the man behind you, his arm wrapping itself tightly around your waist, keeping you close to his chest. “So this is your old stomping ground eh?” He chuckled to himself at his clever little joke. “Bit of a dump now, though” his release of you caused you to stumble forward slightly, quickly whipping around to face him “Aw come on now, don’t give me that look” he twirled the blade in his hand as he looked over you, you could practically feel the smile he had on his face under that mask. “Can’t help it, you just look so cute all wide eyed, view up the stairs ain’t too bad either” he dodged you as you swatted at him, laughing as he pulled out his camera.

Click, flash.

“Now now, so violent. And they say I’m bad.” That smile surely got wider “I just wanted to get a nice picture of my favourite lil survivor before you go scurrying’ back that fire of yours. To which-“ Danny held up a finger, waiting a few seconds before a familiar boom resonated through the resort, a boom you could feel in your bones. He pointed to the window you had tried to escape from, slowly pocketing his camera and gripping his knife “I’ll give you a head start, better start runnin baby”

You didn’t need to be told twice as to darted for the window, vaulting it and leaving your kinda boyfriend not far behind. He’d see you later, coaxing you away from the safety of the campfire and into the fog, and you’d be waiting.

The Deathslinger - Caleb Quinn

The cold stung Caleb’s face before he had opened his eyes, winter air dry in his lungs. He had always disliked trials on Ormond, while it lended to numbing the ache in his leg and jaw, the freeze against his skin and snow always slowed his step and threw off his aim. Still, he had a job to do, conditions be damned.

The resort, despite his misgivings, was an interesting place; with tall towers that held strange metal chairs high above the ground and odd flat boards with holsters on them. You had explained the gist of skiing and the resorts old purpose to him, but you’d have to forgive him for not entirely understanding, he’s an old man from an even older time where such things didn’t exist. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the enjoyment from strapping sticks to your feet and skidding down a hill at several miles per hour and slamming directly into a tree in some cases.

A scream sounded throughout the grounds, Dwight thrashed as he was reeled in, hitting the ground with a hard thud as Celeb slashed him across the chest with his bayonet. One, two, three… someone was unaccounted for. He hefted Dwight onto his shoulder, hissing through his teeth as an elbow connected harshly with the back of his neck as he struggled. Caleb lifted the poor man onto the hook, your overlord quick to claim her latest meal.

He only offered the corpse a glance before starting towards the lodge. He had an idea where you’d be, a routine of sorts. The wooden floor groaned in protest as he stepped over debris and broken furniture, the hallway opening up into a large main room, fire crackling in its hearth and sat in front of it was you. Knees pulled to your chest as you stared off into the flames, it looked like you were somewhere else, somewhere he imagined familiar and warm. He approached you quietly, death to Bayshore lowered and at ease.

“You alright there darlin?” His question was quiet, a rare air of gentleness in his voice as he looked you over. When you gave no answer he gave a sigh, looking around before pulling one of the scattered blankets with the least amount of holes from an old chair and draping the raged cloth over your shoulders. Caleb lowered himself down next to you, letting out a groan that reminded you of one a typical dad might make.

An arm wrapped around your shoulders, gently pulling you into his side. “What’s the matter darlin?” You stared into the fire still, the echos of laughter and smiles of better times swirling in your mind.

You’d never see that again, you’d never see your loved ones again. They would never know what happened to you or where you went, you would forever remain a cold case and left in this hell to be murdered over and over and over and over again. You had Jeff, which was a godsend in this hell but even still he was also in the fog with you and the legion… they weren’t the same. No one was coming to save you, no one was coming to save any of you.

“I just…” your words were choked, your throat tightening as tears burned your eyes “I miss home so much… I-“ you tried to continue, but the words wouldn’t come. Caleb pulled you closer wordlessly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You clung to him like he might be ripped away from you too, sobs muffled by his duster.

“I know darlin, I know.”

#dbd imagines #dbd x reader #slasher fic #the deathslinger x reader #caleb quinn x reader #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen x reader #I hope I did Danny justice I’m not very familiar with him #oops i made it sad #Caleb my beloved #love that crusty dusty man #wren writes

[starklyscifi]

We Walk With Ghosts

A flash fiction story by EJ Stark, written for @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt “torn veil”

Her pursuit of the perfect fall photo lured her deep into the woods. One more tree. One more photo because look at how beautiful it was. Her frantic attempts to capture the fall colors drew her into the part of the foreset she had never been in. She wasn’t scared. These woods were sandwiched between the mall and a bunch of houses. It was quicker to cut through the woods than walk all the way around into the neighborhood, which resulted in a well worn dirt path through the trees. 

She always wondered why the city didn’t just put in a walking path. But such thoughts were far from her mind now. The pictures continued to show lush summer forests with just a hint of yellow, green overwhelming everything like a virus. 

Sam threw her phone. She didn’t understand how the brilliant yellow in front of her could show up like that in a photo. But it wasn’t entirely yellow. She could see that now. It was still summer foliage compared to the tree behind it. That bright red maple she had stupidly missed. 

Retrieving her phone and wiping the mud from the lens, she ventured deeper into the forest. The trees grew older as she walked. 

A sickly sweet smell permeated the air.

She did not know how long she had been chasing the next bright tree. But her phone would not take anymore photos, telling her the camera roll was full. Frustrated, she deleted a broad swath of photos. 

She didn’t care what time it was, intent only on reach that patch of delicate red orange color she glimpsed in front of her. The smell grew stronger. 

It was a clearing with a single apple tree, in full fall bloom.  

The ground was covered in apples. They sank beneath her feet, coated her white tennis shoes in their soft flesh. Her eyes watered with the sweetness. 

And there stood a man, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, dressed all in black. 

His neck creaked like the old stairs in a haunted house as he turned his head. His eyes were gone, two black holes staring out of his skull at her. 

Sam ran. 

She fell twice. Mud splattered her t-shirt. Bursting through the tree line, she was overwhelmed by the roar of cars splashing through wet roads.

. . .

“You’re soaked,” Mandy helpfully pointed out as Sam stumbled in the door. 

Sam peeled her coat off, tried to force the soaked tennis shoes off her feet. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” 

She looked up to see Mandy holding out a pile of clothes. Sam took the clothes and fifteen minutes later found herself dressed as a witch, complete with dollar store hat and Mandy telling her to keep her eyes closed while she finished the “wicked cat eye” she was doing. 

“Jesus, Mandy, are you trying to make her look like a cartoon character?” 

Leah was a nurse who had complained about nothing else since she got her schedule telling her she was working Halloween night. She was already in her scrubs, leaning against the door to Mandy’s room. 

“We all know you’re just bitter.” Mandy swept her makeup brushes into a dresser drawer and shoved Sam towards the door. 

“You girls be careful,” Leah said with a wink, “The veil is thin tonight after all.” 

. . .

They were hitting up the city’s carnival in the park before heading to the bars, where Leah made them promise to still be when she got off. A fog had sprung up. Sam didn’t have to ask Mandy to take the long way around the woods. The carnival was packed by the time they arrived, child screaming in delight and music drifting off the carousel. 

“I didn’t expect this to be so popular,” Sam said, smiling back at a cute guy dressed up in a poor Beatles costume.

“It’s not that busy,” Mandy said with a shrug. 

Sam glanced back at Ringo, but the sidewalk was empty. Something like fire light flickered across it, but she didn’t see any torches. 

“The 70s are really making a comeback,” Sam said, after seeing bell bottoms for the seventh time. A guy in a trippy shirt gave her a look as she and Mandy brushed past him, on the hunt for cotton candy. 

“What?” Mandy was scanning the horizon, in search of sugar. 

“The costumes aren’t even inspired, I mean, they just look like normal people.” 

“What are you on about?” Mandy said. 

Sam pointed at a girl dressed in a long old-fashioned dress, complete with heavy milk bucket. 

Mandy rolled her eyes, taking off in the direction of the spotted sugar rush. The girls walked around the park making fun of the costumes appearing and disappearing in fog while they ate the sticky cotton candy. Children screamed on a min-rollercoaster. 

“If you’re going to try for the 1920s, at least put in some effort,” Sam said.

“What is with you tonight?” Mandy giggled. 

“I’m just saying, at least go full flapper. Who picks an everyday outfit from a hundred years ago as a Halloween costume?” 

Mandy giggled again. She did that when she got nervous. 

“What is up with you?” Sam asked, finishing a cup of hot cider spiked with rum and throwing the tiny paper cup in the trash. It bounced out and onto the ground. 

“Did you get into Leah’s weed?” Mandy mouthed the word “weed”. She had been shocked when Leah, the ostensibly responsible nurse, had wiped out her trusty Altoids tin a week into all of them living together. 

“Do I seem high to you?” 

“You’re seeing people who aren’t there. So yeah, maybe.”  

Cold sweat dripped down Sam’s back. She looked again for the people with the bad costumes. They were gone. Normal families shuffled around the carnival. 

He was back. Standing in the center of the crowd. Looking right at her with his non-eyes. 

Without taking a step he was right in front of her. Nose to nose. Behind him, the sky was filled with flying things from her nightmares. 

“Do you see?” 

She met Death under an apple tree and now eternity was laid out on a soccer field. 

#horror #flash fiction #starkly mine #writing #flash fiction friday #writing community #writers on tumblr

[sheluvricciardo]

second chance

franco colapinto x reader

in which you give your ex franco a second chance.

a/n: this one is for @im-an-overthinker because they mentioned they like franco and i’ve been dying for requests 😩 hope you like it!!

“just come with me. it’s the first race of the season, you can’t miss it!”

clara was pleading with you, making every attempt to persuade you to join her at the first race of the formula three season. she paced anxiously as she scrambled to think of another reason for you to come, but you remained reluctant.

“i have no reason to go anymore, clara. i’m not a wag, and i don’t really want to see franco after he made up some dumb excuse to call it quits so that he can bang track bunnies all off-season.” you stood up, moving to the window to look out at the monégasque city. there was no reason to leave the comforts of home; at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

clara joined you at the window, studying the cars that passed by below the apartment.

“don’t let franco stop you from enjoying things. besides, it would be good for you to show him that you are better off without him.”

you hated that she had a point. you never only attended races for the sake of being a trophy girlfriend either — your love for the sport was true, and racing was something you had always had a passion for, even before franco.

“i hate when you’re right, you know.” you looked over at clara, who had a wide grin painted across her face as she stared back at you.

“so you’ll come?”

“only if we find a good club for the post race celebration.”

“deal.”

• • •

you decided on white pants and a brown cropped top for your appearance, a lowkey look for your first paddock walk as a single woman. stressed was an understatement that described your current mood, rushing to slip on a pair of heeled boots before running out of the hotel room to meet clara.

the drive to the track was quiet, the two of you too full of nerves to spark a conversation. you gripped the paddock pass in your hand, knuckles pale with tension as you attempted to ease your nerves. before you could gather your thoughts, the car slowed to a stop and you were forced to follow clara out of the comfort of the backseat. as expected, cameras were immediately pointed towards the two of you as you beelined towards the entry point.

“don’t even worry about them, cherie. keep on walking, you’re doing great.”

clara grabbed a hold of your hand, squeezing it reassuringly as you scanned into the paddock. looks were exchanged between you and several drivers, who simply gave you a smile. it was a smile of pity. you hated it.

“god, they think i’m pathetic,” you sighed, trying your best to keep your head up and appear unfazed.

you walked past the van amersfoort garage, your eyes instinctively wavering towards the entrance. unsurprisingly, franco stood just outside, leaned against the wall alongside reece ushijima. his eyes met yours for a moment before you flickered your gaze away, turning into the prema garage.

“y/n! you made it, i see.” arthur’s perky voice lit a smile on your face as you accepted his embrace, letting out a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around you. arthur was your best friend, and the one who introduced you to the lifesaver that was his girlfriend, clara. he knew how to light up a room, his infectious personality immediately easing your nerves.

“i did, unfortunately.” you laughed nervously, smiling as ollie bearman joined in with a welcoming hug for you and clara.

“now now, y/n. it’s always a pleasure to have you here. at least we’ve got you cheering for the right team now.” ollie joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his comment.

arthur began to zip up his suit, and ollie mirrored his actions.

“hate to cut the sentiments short, but we’ve got a race to win. see you all on the other side,” arthur shared a kiss with clara and gave you a quick hug before running off, ollie trailing closely on his heels.

• • •

it was no surprise to see ollie on podium alongside arthur, with an impressive prema 1-2 and franco in third. you wanted to be bitter over franco’s success, but your instincts were telling you to celebrate.

the after party was at a local club, and per usual you were attached to the bar. you had no desire to dance or meet new people — in all honesty, you wanted to go back to your hotel room and hide out until your flight home. instead, you took a sip of your fourth margarita of the night.

“after the second one you’d think a margarita would get boring.”

the painfully familiar voice made your hair stand, not even having to turn to see who it was.

“i’m not surprised to hear that from you. you seem to get bored quite easily, franco.”

you set your glass down and turned to face him, his warm, brown eyes instantly melting your heart. as much as you wanted to hate him, you fell in love with every moment of eye contact you shared with him. you didn’t want to be so bitter, but he deserved it after he had left you so easily.

you threw your head back to kill the last of your margarita, grabbing your things in a rush as you prepared to leave.

“i’m actually not going to do this right now, franco. you left me so you could go hook up with your instagram models, so go have fun.” you began to head for the exit, but you could feel franco hot on your heels.

“amor, please. wait up.” he grabbed your arm, which you pulled back without hesitation.

“let me at least take you back. i don’t want you to walk alone.”

you couldn’t exactly stop him, so without protest you slipped out of the club and onto the lively streets of bahrain with your ex-boyfriend close behind.

the walk was silent, with you not in any mood to talk to franco and him respecting that for the time being. the two of you entered the hotel lobby, making a straight shot to the elevator.

“i regret breaking up with you, you know.”

franco finally spoke up as the doors to the elevator closed. bastard. it was his plan all along; wait until you were isolated to torture you with his excuses.

“i don’t want to hear it, franco.” you shut him down quickly, but he was persuasive.

“please just listen, y/n. i’m not the best at saying how i feel, and maybe that’s why i pushed you away. but i never broke up with you to be free of you. the past couple of months without you have been absolutely miserable.” franco took your hands in his, and this time you didn’t pull away. you didn’t want to.

“i’ve realised that this driving thing kind of sucks when you don’t have your number one supporter by your side.” he looked down at you, his brown eyes doing that thing that made you so helplessly in love with him. ever so slightly he pulled you in to him, until just inches of space lingered between the two of you.

“i love you, y/n. i never stopped loving you.”

reluctantly, you closed the space between the two of you, franco’s body heat warming you immediately.

“i want to believe you, really —“

“then believe me.” franco cut you off with his lips against yours, and you couldn’t help but eagerly return the kiss as the elevator slowed to a stop at your floor. you pulled away from him, stifling a grin.

“care to join me? this doesn’t mean i forgive you, by the way.”

#franco colapinto #f3 #formula 3 #franco colapinto oneshot #oneshot #franco colapinto x reader #francolapinto #van amersfoort racing

[heyimroe]

Bullies

Kisaki x reader

Content: you have a child (d/n - daughter), name calling, bullies, blackmail

~••~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"Thanks baby, d/n should be home soon," Kisaki said while you poured him some tea. You smiled and pecked his lips gently. He signaled you to sit on his lap and you did. Kisaki wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your forehead.

Suddenly, the door slammed open and d/n burst into the room sobbing on the floor. You quickly got off his lap and hugged your daughter. Kisaki stood up and a concerned look quickly took over his face. "D/n, what's wrong? Are you okay?" you ask.

She could barely form any words from the tears pouring down her cheeks. He squated on the floor with you and stroked d/n's hair. He noticed a bruise on your thigh and arm. "Who did this to you, darling? I want a name right now!" he yelled. "Tetta!" You whispered angrily.

"I-it's one of the g-girls in school." D/n stutters, "She p-pushed me in her locker." Your eyes widened, "Darling, let me see your face." Kisaki said as he took her chin softly, checking for any scars or more bruises. And a large scar presented itself.

"Is school still on, D/n?" You asked gently, putting hair behind her ear when you saw her hair wasn't the same length. "Darling, did someone cut your hair?" You hissed angrily. "Y-yeah," she whimpered softly, not crying anymore. "School is still open for an hour."

"Let's get in the car, we have some stuff to do." kisaki said, you held D/n's arm and got in the car while he started the engine. When you all arrived to the school, kisaki got out of the car and opened the door for both of you. You led D/n to her father while you followed behind her.

People made way for your family as you darted to the office. Kisaki slammed open the door and yelled, "I WANT TO SEE THE PRINCIPAL, NOW!" The office clerk quickly called for the principal as she was being watched by your husband's cold eyes.

He burst the door open, "Sir, what a surprise! How good to see-" he was quickly cut off. "Cut the crap! Do you have security cameras?" He yelled. "U-uhm, yes, I do," the headmaster replied, shaking. "Can you check the security footage in, D/n, which corridor?" You ask.

"Corridor 3, between 1:30 to 1:40 pm," she replied. He did as told and watched the footage along with your family.

FOOTAGE

"Veronica, p-please. No!" D/n pleaded. Some girls cornered her and one of them came close to her. "D/n, you sit on my chair, I MAKE YOU SIT ON YOURS!" She shouted, pushing D/n into her locker and slamming the door. They all cackled loudly and locked it.

"I'll let you out at the end of the school day, no earlier." She giggled devilishly. "Mrs. Dilly! What do you think you're doing?" A teacher yelled. "I'm just putting my stuff into the locker, Ms Davis! Give me a break." She said. "I've got my eye on you," Ms Davis replied.

FOOTAGE ENDS

"U-uhm, I'm so sorry D/n. I'll call her to the office now." He apologized. "Veronica Dilly, to the office. Veronica Dilly, to the office, NOW!" The principal said into the loud speaker and almost immediately she entered through the door.

"What do you want, daddy? I was-" she looked from her phone and was stunned to see Kisaki and you. "You need to apologize, right NOW!" He yelled. "Okay, I'm sorry." Veronica said insincerely. "No, not me.To her!" He yelled angrily. "I'm sorry, D/N!" Veronica apologized.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked D/n. She looked at you and Kisaki as you both give her a nod. "A month and 1/2," D/n said. The headmaster quickly became furious and started yelling at his daughter. "B-but daddy!" She cried.

"NO! I DON'T WANT ANYMORE EXCUSES! YOU'RE SUSPENDED FOR 3 MONTHS AND NO PHONES, LAPTOPS AND TV FOR 2 WEEKS! GIVE ME YOUR PHONE!" He grabbed he phone and put it in his drawer

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Tetta. I assure you this won't happen again." The principal apologized as you all walked out.

#tokyo revengers #kisaki x reader #kisaki tetta #tr kisaki #kisaki x you #kisaki imagines #scenario #tokyorev x yn #tokyo rev x you

[dc-x-readers]

CatGirl Pt 1 (Batfam x Reader)

So this takes place in a world with Soulmates and is going to be a longer fic. But the idea is super duper cute so I’ve started it now and plan to do different installments

When you were ten years old you made a top ten list of all the careers that you wanted to be when you grew up. Number one on that list was to be a princess, and it went all the way down to Soulmate matcher. But becoming a jewel thief hadn’t been anywhere on your list. Yet here you were, Catgirl the sidekick to the afamed Catwoman.

But you were mostly alone now, Selina was dating Bruce Wayne (the famed billionaire who just so happened to be her soulmate) and was cutting back on the heists. She claimed she just didn’t have time anymore, but you figured it was because she was getting ready to settle down and live a cushy life with Bruce. Selina also claimed that nothing between the two of you would change, but you saw through that. You had been abandoned too many times to fall for people claiming they’ll stay no matter what. That’s what your soulmate was for.

It was your first solo mission and you were more scared than you should have been, because it was an easy job, theoretically. You had done tons of break-ins to jewelry stores with Selina before, but being alone made it ten times scarier.

Still you slunk into the shop, careful to avoid any of the camera, and jimmied open the lock. You grabbed a handful of jewels, placing all that you could fit into the pouch on you hip before sliding out of the shop just as carefully.

You hadn’t set off a single alarm, and made a clean get away.

You arrived back home to the apartment you shared with Selina and your cat Lucy. You slipped into your room, hoping that Selina wouldn’t notice you. Selina had become a pseudo mother when she plucked you from the streets and gave you a home. She was everything to you.

You didn’t see Selina in the living room, and you smiled to yourself thinking that for once you bested the mighty Catwoman. But, because she is Selina, she was sitting on your bed, looking impassively at her nails.

“Where were you?” Selina asked, not looking up from her cuticles.

“Went for a swim?” You replied, then mentally hit yourself because there was no way in hell she would believe that.

Selina to her credit looked up at you amused, raising an eyebrow, “In full gear.”

“Just ground me.” You sighed.

Selina smiled at you dangerously, she never took it easy on you. You could see the glint in her eye and you just knew. She was about to make your life miserable.

“No grounding.” Selina said demurely, and normally you would celebrate, but somehow you knew what Selina was planning would be so much worse. “Bruce invited me over to dinner tomorrow night, I want you to come.”

You balked at the suggestion, but Selina didn’t let you say a word, because she already pushed herself from your bed and strutted to your doorway, “Oh do wear something nice, he’s a classy guy.”

She left your room, closing the door behind her and you mouthed back ‘he’s a classy guy’ angrily.

That night, you stared at all your pretty new jewels, but they couldn’t distract you from the night you had. You hoped to meet your soulmate soon, before Selina chose Bruce over you and walked out of your life forever. Because people leave you, but not your soulmate.

People leave you, but not your soulmate. They will stay. Your soulmate will stay.

That was your mantra, you repeated it over and over that night as you lay awake in bed.

The next day you were getting ready for the dinner, contemplating on whether or not to pretend to be sick. You stared in your mirror, looking at the mark just above your hip bone, I’ve got you, can’t make me let go and you smiled running your finger over the slanted script. You slid on a pretty dress and eyed the new ring that you had just liberated from the jewelry store. You put it on, making sure it matched the rest of the outfit.

“Come on Y/N.” Selina called impatiently from the foyer, and you left your room to join her. As the two of you descended the elevator Selina began to talk about Bruce, you almost rolled your eyes, because all the things she said about Bruce were common knowledge.

“He’s got a lot of kids, so don’t be intimidated by any of them okay?” Selina said and you nodded, you weren’t intimidated by anything.

The two of you were walking to Selina’s car when she tugged at your wrist, forcing you to look up at her. She looked worried, her eyebrows creasing together, and she bit her lip. You had never seen Selina like this.

“Y/N, if he makes you that uncomfortable tell me, we’ll leave the party.” Selina spoke carefully.

“But he’s your soulmate?” You let the words slip out before you could help yourself.

“Yes.” Selina confirmed, smoothing down your hair in a motherly gesture, “But you are my daughter, and you always come first.”

You thought that you might cry, Selina looked close to crying to. Instead the two of you hugged, she held onto you so tightly, and you thought of all she was willing to let go of, for you. Maybe people who aren’t soulmates stay too.

Selina whipped at her misty eyes, before pulling away and climbing into her car. You followed suit and before you knew it, the two of you were flying down the streets of Gotham towards the famous Wayne manor.

When you arrived Selina didn’t even have a chance to open her car door before the Manor’s doors opened up, and you saw Bruce Wayne in the flesh. It was a strange experience, seeing the famous nillionaire at the door, seeing him smile so fondly at Selina, and then turning that smile to you.

Bruce stuck a hand out to you with a warm smile, “It’s nice to finally meet you Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you too.” You replied unsurley, but Bruce still smiled warmly at the greeting. He then kissed Selina chastely on the lips before leading the two of you inside. The Wayne Manor was huge, and you tried not to marvel at it.

Bruce lead you to a sitting room that was filled with children, “Y/N, these are my kids.”

Only three or four of the kids looked up at you, most just ignored you. You weren’t sure if you were grateful or not.

The oldest came up to you with a wide smile, “I’m Dick!” he exclaimed pulling you into a hug that caused you toes to lift off the ground. Your eyes widened and when he let you down you stepped back to the safety of Selina.

“Dick!” Chided a different kid, this one a girl with fiery red hair, “You’re scaring the poor girl.”

Dick looked a little sheepish before stepping back. Selina smiled at the kids, she seemed to know them all, some seemed to like her more than other. Then she sat down on the couch, you sat on the other side of her, and Bruce sat next to her, an arm slung over Selina’s shoulder. The rest of the night was loud with all the Wayne children laughing and joking around, and it was nice.

You even thought you could get used to living in a place with all these kids.

#batfamily #batfam imagine #BatFam #batfamily imagine #Selina Kyle

[lockboxbooks]

Oops! All Zelda! 3B: La Brava is helping their latest capture Rosaria taking on Gentle's meat

Manami sat in her plush new office chair as she sifted through scanned news sites and new-media social commentary bloggers over what she and Danjuro had done to the parasocial relationship between civilians and heroes. It was egotistical of her to titter and chuckle whenever people furiously shouted and questioned how Gentle Criminal went from incompetent petty thief to a master hacker, capable of preventing himself from being captured on camera while being as boastful and as lurid as possible.

No one even knew who she was or how she was involved with Gentle Group at all, and Manami preferred it that way. She always thrived doing the work behind the scenes; like setting up the recording pace, managing the livestreams, downing security systems, tracking their finances, and other editorial work; while Danjuro was the one in front of the camera. Which was the most natural choice as he was just so amazingly gifted with charisma. Manami didn't know anyone who could even come close to the level of charm and persuasive talent Danjuro had. He could convince anyone to fuck in the confectionary aisle of a grocery store with nothing more than a soft smile and a compliment. Manami shook herself out of her own thoughts and quickly dotted down that idea.

It was as she shifted from looking through the news to looking at the cyber footprint of Bountiful, the Hero Organisation that was trying to find some way of pressuring the reveal of her and Danjuro's identities. She was still able to outpace any resistance Bountiful could produce and found a private phone call exchange between Bountiful's CEO and a hero. Manami felt her curiosity spike and opened the recorded phone call.

"What is that you want me to do, and for what price?" A female voice pointedly asked. "I don't do anything until I know the job and the pay rate."

"Hmmm... You cut right to the point Sister Frost," The CEO grumbled before the sound of paper shuffling about could be heard. "Hrm... So, finding the headquarters of Gentle Group is 20,000 yen, destruction of Gentle Groups equipment is 10,000 yen, apprehending and exposing Gentle is 10,000 yen, and the recapture and return of Timido Cute is 40,000 yen."

"Timido must have meant something if her rescue is the same price as everything else." Sister Frost opined softly. "Why? She can't be a hero anymore; not after so publicly exposing herself."

"Bountiful spent good money on investing in Figure Lady. If she is nothing more than a whore now; she should work to repay what she owes the company." The CEO gruffly answered. Manami noted how annoyed the man sounded at hearing Sister Frost's question.

"So, it's purely business I see; you want me to break the Gentle Group, lock up the ringleader, and give Bountiful their break into erotic idol work." Sister Frost hummed. "80,000 yen does sound good price for the task. Half up front and the remaining half when I dump the sex pet on your doorstep. No work until I see 40,000 yen in my account."

"Really? You are demanding the half of the complete total upfront!?" The CEO barked out. "You can't be serious!"

"No money, no work. Plain and simple." Sister Frost bit back. "You want me to ve your private mercenary, I expect to be paid well. Especially, if I have to let the Gentle Group make a video with me."

The recording went quiet before a resigned sigh was heard. "Fine! I will wire the 40,000 yen now. Just make sure to get the job done within 48 hours."

Sister Frost just chuckled. "Don't you worry, I can already see that other 40,000 yen in my private account already."

That was all Manami needed to hear. A hero was planning to infiltrate their group and destroy everything that she and Danjuro had built. All because of some pathetic loser lost some money on a hero, who literally wanted to do anything else but be a hero. Manami opened the site she used for new applicants and saw a new profile existed. She smirked as she clicked on the new profile.

She saw the profile that Sister Frost had made for her little mercenary mission. She saw the image of a purple-haired hero in a nun's habit; the icy hero of faith, Sister Frost. Manami inspected the photos the hero sent, loving the massive watermelon tits and supple figure the mercenary hero added to her application. Manami licked her lips as she slipped two fingers into her trousers, picturing all the things Danjuro would do to the spy.

"Oh, you're going to look good glazed like the cheap slut you are," Manami moaned as she started to work her cunt over. "I'll make sure you pay for even trying to destroy Gentle Group." Manami's mind was already whirling with plots and ideas to break the hero's will and make her serve her and Danjuro.

Manami made her way to the studio, walking in on Danjuro and Timido finishing a video; one that had clearly been a request as Timido was in her Lady Figure costume. She watched as Danjuro pumped rope, after rope of jizz onto the cute pinkette's face while she held her mouth open and stuck her tongue out. Manami felt her cunt quiver as she watched Timido clean and service Danjuro. "Having fun, are we?" Manami softly cooed out as she made her way toward the man of her dreams and her loving coworker and pet.

"Yes, we were keeping each other quite entertained," Danjuro confidently answered as he watched Timido clean her face up, swallowing as much as she could. "What brings you to the studio? You have told me you don't want to be on camera." Danjuro softly asked as he focused his attention on the well-dressed shortstack. Confidence giving way to worry and loving concern.

"Bountiful hasn't given up on retrieving Timido," Manami told Danjuro as she closed what little distance remained between them. "They've even gone as far as to hire a mercenary hero to pose as a prospective talent. They're being paid to break everything, put us in jail, and steal Timido away."

Those words caused a look of genuine panic in Timido as she clung to them both, whimpering out of fear. "I-I love this, I l-love you both... I-I don't want to g-go back..."

Manami ran her hand threw Timido's hair to soothe the girl. "You wont be, because I have a plan."

Manami heard Danjuro's velvety chuckle as the silver fox put his cock away. "What plan did you have in mind, my sweet?"

"We break her. I am planning on meeting her at a nearby cafe, do an 'interview' before I take her into my car and lead her to... our offsite storage facility." Manami explained as she imagined the look on the hero's face as she's shackled to the floor naked. "That's when you and Timido come into play; I'll help you skull fuck her while Timido, you get her asshole and pussy. I'm sure you can find some tools to enjoy your mission."

She watched Timido's eyes light up at hearing that she'd be a part of saving the Gentle Group. Manami looked up to see Danjuro's confident grin. "This is why you're the love of my life. You know just what to do at all times." Danjuro's voice was like rich chocolate to Manami.

"Oh, and don't be gentle, either of you." Manami pointed to the kneeling hero and her gorgeous lover. "We need to break her mind as fast as possible. Otherwise..." Manami trailed off as she pressed her hand against Danjuro's bulge and Timido's cheek. "We lose everything."

"So... Super Love Elastic Euphoria," Danjuro chuckled, "don't let her breathe until after I've emptied everything into her." Manami loved how Danjuro got when they were on the same wave-length. "Well, we have a plan and a new employee to break in; so we can't just waste time. We have to prepare."

With the plan made, the trio departed to set everything in motion. Manami made her way to her meeting with Sister Frost. She got there early, enjoying the cute cafe and ordered two drinks, and waited for Sister Frost's arrival. She easily slipped a quirk suppressant into the drink she planned to give to Sister Frost. She watched the busty nun enter the cafe in a frilled blouse and purple miniskirt. Well, she has taste at least Manami thought as she waved the hero down.

"Where's Mr. Gentle?" The hero bluntlyasked as she sat down in front of the shortstack. Manami smiled and simply handed Sister Frost the drugged beverage.

"Mr. Gentle is preparing everything for your arrival; which is why I am here for the last-minute paperwork, Manami explained as she ruffled through her purse and slid a contact out onto the table. "For your safety, we need you to sign this; it's a simple contract that gives you the rights to any video made starring you for 72 hours. Just in case you don't want it to be released to the public." Manami watched as the hero raised an eyebrow but dove into and read the contract cover to cover before turning to face her again.

"I am going to be paid 80,000 yen for this shoot! T-that's the actual proposed payment!" Sister Frost exclaimed as she gestured to the paperwork between the two tit-heavy women. Manami just smirked, knowing that the mercernary was probably already doing even more calculations to see if she could squeeze money out of the Gentle Group and Bountiful.

"Yes, the Gentle Group has been incredibly successful with our pursuits and development of pornstreaming. As such we are capable of paying our talent what we believe they're worth." Manami watched as Sister Frost continued to down the drink in her hand, knowing that the suppressant was entering her system and before long, the frosty hero of faith would be at their complete mercy. "Another point of order, would you prefer to use a pseudonym or some other kind of name rather than announce that Sister Frost is collaborating with the Gentle Group to make porn. Debuts like this can destroy a hero's reputation after all."

"You can call me Rosaria Eis." The fat-tittied nun informed Manami. The shortstack watched Rosaria drink deeply from the drugged drink as she fidgeted in her chair. Manami knew from the phone call and her research that Rosaria had to make a lot of payments for water and property damage from her gungho approach to apprehending criminals. Which makes an 80,000 yen paycheck to suck a cock look incredibly appealing.

But, Manami knew she'd agreed to do whatever dirty work Bountiful asked her to try and receive the other 40,000 yen they promised her. "Well, Rosaria," Manami said in a soft, professional tone before pausing to make it look like she was checking her phone, "it is time for us to go to the studio and get you prepped to meet Mr. Gentle." Manami led Rosaria to her luxury car and drove her to the Gentle Group offsite, a moderately-sized non-descript grey blocky building. Smiling as she knew the human cow wasn't aware what was going to happen to her nor was she going to leave going to leave unless she and Danjuro wanted her to.

"This is your... studio?" Rosaria bluntly asked, her tone was unnerved or disgusted at the sight of the site. Manami just nodded as she parked the car.

"Yes, its nice and out of the way and no one would bother to check it out." Manami was soft as she walked their new talent into the bleak building. Happily leading the unaware hero down through the hallways and into a tight, cramped looking room; that only had two large metal rings affixed to the floor. "This is the recording stage, take off all of your clothes and get on your knees. Mr. Gentle will be out to fuck you in just a minute." Manami's voice went from soft and pleasant to firm and professional. The hourglass shortstack clapped her hands together, pulling Rosaria from her thoughts. Manami watched as the frosty hero undressed, letting her fat, heaving tits fall free as she stripped as fast as she could.

Manami led Rosaria to the centre of the room, helped her down onto her knees, and pressed a button in a remote she had in her pocket. She watched with a smirk as the metal rings shot up, opened and snagged Rosaria's wrists before falling back down; pinning the human cow to the floor. "W-what's going on!?" Rosaria shouted as she tried to break free, Manami watched as the hero tried to use her Cold Sculpture quirk but stared at her hands as nothing happened. She found the look of rage and fear a potent mix as she stared down at Rosaria.

"You see, what's happening is a mercenary with a lot of debt promised to destroy my place of employment, throw my lover in jail and smear his name to the press like Bountiful's chief cheerleader." Manami coldly remarked as a section of the far wall opened up, revealing Danjuro his his Gentle costume and Timido on all fours, wearing nothing but a smile. "And I couldn't have that, no; I love my job, the man of my dreams and my employee far too much to let that happen. So, we're going to make you are latest piece of hot talent." Manami turned to Danjuro as she mounted Rosaria and started to grope at her fat, heavy tits. "Don't you think she'd just be a perfect fit with us? Cheap, sleazy, willing to suck cock for money, and bonus she comes with fat cow tits! She's bigger than me and Timido combined."

"I-I'll never join! At least I can tell people where your studio is!" Rosaria defiantly shouted.

"My dear Rosaria... This is not Gentle Studios," Danjuro calmly informed the purple-haired hero. "This, is a storage site... we use it for troublesome talent. We had one in here not too long ago; A one Combat Gal, or better known as Videl Satan. But some quirk suppressant, and being fucked all day long over Golden Week... well she was than happy to sign on as a permnanent talent member."

Timido crawled foward until she was inches from Rosaria's face. "I know i-it can be s-scary, wanting to s-stay a he-hero. But I d-do whatever I want n-now and I c-couldn't be happier." The pinkette kissed the new employee before opening a small bag she had hidden under her tits. "I am go-going to be b-behind you, using t-these," Timido pulled out a four inch thick, nearly ten inch long dildo and an end-heavy buttplug that looked more like a dumbbell than a sextoy. "I-I hope I can make you c-cum lots!" With that, the pinkette eagerly rushed around Rosaria and waited for the signal.

"Y-You break heroes..." Rosaria softly whimpered out as she watched Gentle undo his belt and a cock that was even bigger than Timido's dildo slapped her in the face. "... you're all monsters..." The fat tittied nun tried not to gasp as she felt the cock throb and get even larger.

"We weren't interested in you until you came looking to cause trouble like a simple miscreant." Gentle calmly remarked as he slapped his cock down on the captive slut before him. "Had you ignored Bountiful, we would have selected anyone from our talent pool to be the new employee; but we can't have you skulking about, causing a ruckus. So, breaking you is the only option; we'll still pay you the 80,000 of course. For services rendered, it's the gentlemanly thing to do."

With that line said, Manami smirked as she felt Timido charge forward and slam her favourite toys into Rosaria, causing her to scream with a gorgeous 'O' face. Which was the perfect opportunity for her and Danjuro to use their quirks. Danjuro's cock only got fatter and harder as he entered Lover Mode. " Infinite Elastic Euphoria!" Danjuro shouted as he created the rubbery planes before slamming into that gorgeous slack-jawed face of the sabeteur. All while Manami held onto Rosaria's neck and shoulders; the shortstack helped by adding extra mass and using her own strength to force Danjuro deeper and deeper down Rosaria's throat.

the tight concrete chamber was flooded with slurping, squelching, mewling, moaning, and the harsh sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Rosaria couldn't move, she could barely breathe, and she couldn't even string a thought together if she tried. Timido, Figure Lady; a disgraced hero had always been an obscene pornstar just knew how and where to press to turn her cunt into a roaring fawcet; the human cow of a hero couldn't stop cumming. Manami rode atop her back, assisting the absolute head-emptying skull-fucking she was receiving as well as slapping and groping her massive milky melons like she was a depraved man using an escourt for the first time. All she could do was look up at that soft, confident smile as she Gwuark'd and Ouragh'd around his monster, precum and spit painted her tits and her face as she felt those heavy balls that slap against her body over and over again.

It felt like hours of her being used like this before she was shoved and pulled flush against Danjuro and felt a torrent, a titanic flood of jizz slam into her gut, almost making it swell from the volume she had been forced to swallow. It was mroe than she'd ever had in her before; she was numb, blissed out of her mind and ... and found herself wanting more. Rosaria was struggling to maintain herself as she felt him pop free of her mouth and paint her face with several more ropes.

"What do you say? Return Bountiful's 40,000 yen and we'll call this a simple sign on bonus." Danjuro softly offered Rosaria. "Say yes, you come out of the shackles and we take you to the real studio."

"A~and if I say no?" Rosaria mewled out, her body betraying how much she was enjoying this.

"When we go for another round of interviewing you." Manami confidently answered. "Until you do say yes... you know, you still have some attitude. We better fuck that mean streak right out of you. From the top everyone!" Manami loved hearing Rosaria's shock gasp as Timido and Danjuro went right back to fucking her stupid. She leaned forward to maul Rosaria's fat tits and whispered hotly. "...Even if you say yes next time; we're going to keep fucking you and fucking you until you can't even form words. You aren't employee yet, but you're getting there; for now you're just fuckmeat!" Manami watched as another body quaking orgasm tore through the captured hero; her eyes slowly rolling back into her head as she lost the will to fight against Timido's expert hands and massive toys.

"You're almost ready, just a few more hours and then you'll be Gentle Material." Manami cooed before licking a thick rope of jizz off of the hero's cheek.

[this... this one really got away from me, i hope you like it]

#Gentle Group #BNHA #AU #Gentle Criminal becomes a pornstreamer

[lovelyfanatical]

I Get a Sugar Rush Whenever I'm With You - Chapter 6.2

Happy Friday fellow Drukkari stans, or whatever day it is for you! I come bearing the next mini-chapter! If you missed any prior installments, you can find all of them on my new table of contents here. Previously, Druig and Makkari got to have an extra fluffy baking session, but can the sweetness last? Find out now in the next installment of Drukkari in the Great British Bake Off!

Druig was riding high into the weekend, even if he’d been dreading this particular week since he’d found out what it was. He’d never been much for dieting, as he didn’t see the point of limiting what he ate if he didn’t have to, so an entire week based around cutting out certain ingredients seemed rather daunting. Nevertheless, he’d been in a noticeably better mood ever since his afternoon with Makkari. She hadn’t stayed too long after they finished baking (and eating half the éclairs they’d just made). She’d helped him clean up a bit, packed up the rest of the éclairs, and given him a hug goodbye. He wouldn’t quite call it a date. They were just two friends baking and hanging out. In secret. Even so, he’d enjoyed it immensely, and it seemed like Makkari had as well.

They greeted each other as usual outside the hotel, and Druig couldn’t say for sure, but it felt like something in the air had changed between them. Standing with their friends, it felt like Makkari stayed closer to him than usual. That said, she always stood close enough to bump shoulders with him or reach over and punch his arm if he provoked such a response. Today, however, Makkari didn’t do either of those things. She just stood by him, occasionally chiming into the conversation, and while she didn’t turn her head, Druig thought he’d seen her glancing at him from the corner of her eye, a smile playing at her lips. It was a wonder she could keep up with the conversation at all, as he’d stopped listening almost as soon as he noticed her looking. When he finally tuned back into the group, he saw Ajak eyeing them, one eyebrow beginning to rise. Druig looked away as calmly and casually as he could.

Like he had during weeks prior, Druig held onto that happy feeling as the day progressed. The first challenge wasn’t too bad, but it definitely could’ve gone better. Now that he’d made ice cream during a technical, making it during a signature didn’t seem quite as stressful, even if it was dairy-free. That said, he’d also chosen a more basic flavor profile, making things slightly easier for himself. He’d gone with almond milk vanilla ice cream, dipped in chocolate with a hint of chili. The judges found it simple but effective, though Arishem had also added that he found it a bit underwhelming after last week’s performance. It certainly wasn’t his most glowing review, but Druig found that his wasn’t the opinion he most cared about.

The good thing about the chocolate dip was that he’d been able to save one for Makkari, much to her delight. She happily ate it, remarking, Sorry, I wish I could’ve save one of mine for you.

While Druig was quite curious about hers (Makkari had made mango ice cream topped with chili powder), he’d only replied, Guess you’ll just have to make it again for me sometime.

She gave him an amused look, but before she could respond, Kingo came trotting over, Phastos trudging along behind him.

“It’s days like this that I’m glad I don’t have to do the baking anymore,” Kingo said.

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have a lactose intolerant child with a sweet tooth,” Phastos replied. Despite being a busy engineer, husband, and father, he’d picked up BSL quite quickly and had already started signing along where he could.

You really don’t miss competing? Makkari asked Kingo.

“I mean, I do. It was a really great experience, but sometimes, it really is more fun to just watch,” Kingo responded.

“No offense, Kingo, but the behind-the-scenes stuff seems to suit you better than being in front of the camera,” Druig added. Kingo’s mouth fell open at the remark.

“Was that an actual back-handed compliment?” he asked.

“You’re actually touched by that?” Phastos asked, visibly confused.

“I’m pretty sure that’s as close as Druig’s ever gotten to complimenting me, so I’ll take it,” Kingo explained matter-of-factly.

“Who’s handing out compliments?” Sersi called over as she and Ajak approached the table.

“Druig said I was doing a good job!” Kingo answered excitedly.

“I also said you weren’t good in front of a camera,” Druig corrected.

“Well, that makes more sense,” Sersi said as she sat down.

“At least he said something nice,” Ajak added. “It’s good to change things up sometimes. Although, I don’t think I’ll be making dairy-free ice cream again any time soon.”

A few of them groaned in agreement (including Kingo, though Makkari threw a crouton at him in retaliation, much to Druig’s amusement). Ajak hadn’t gone for anything too complicated, but her chocolate ice cream hadn’t quite set, making for quite the mess when it came time for judgment. The others had done alright, but Druig could sense that none of them were looking forward to the next two challenges.

One person who hadn’t struggled at all, however, was Sprite, whose avocado ice cream had only garnered praise. As she and Gilgamesh neared the table, completing the party, they started applauding. She paused to roll her eyes but gave them a playful bow before she took her seat and accepted the onslaught of compliments.

“Well, I did have the advantage. I’ve been vegan since I was 12,” Sprite said.

“So last month?” Gilgamesh teased, which earned him a few chuckles, but Sprite was not amused.

“I’m sure you get this all the time, but one day, you’ll be glad you look young for your age,” Ajak tried to reassure.

“You’re right, I do get that all the time,” Sprite replied wryly.

If you do well on the technical, do you think your mom will let you come to dinner with us? Makkari asked.

“Tell her we may seem like grown-ups, but we’re really just a bunch of oversized kids,” Gilgamesh added. “And we promise not to be bad influences!”

“Oh, I don’t actually need her permission. I just didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of adults twice my age and above,” Sprite replied, grinning snarkily. Several members of the group voiced their discontent at this statement, but she cut them off, saying, “I’m kidding! I already asked her, and she said I could make an appearance.”

“What about you, Phastos?” Ajak asked.

“We’ll see. Jack likes me to Facetime him before he goes to bed,” Phastos explained.

One of these days, we’ll get you to dinner, Makkari signed, a playful look in her eye.

“Assuming I make it through this week!” he lamented. No matter how well he did, Phastos always seemed to think he was one mistake away from elimination.

“Well, considering you got Arishem to enjoy peanut butter ice cream, I’d say you make it to next week,” Druig interjected.

“Again, with the almost compliments!” Kingo remarked. “Next thing you know, he’ll start being nice to people not named Makkari!”

This time, Makkari handed Druig the crouton. It hit Kingo right in the forehead, drawing plenty of laughter from most of the table, a light scolding from Ajak, and another eye-roll from Sprite as she muttered something about being more mature than most of her fellow competitors.

-

I may not agree with her actions, but as someone who's always looked young for their age, I can relate to Sprite 😆 Likes, comments, and re-blogs would be much appreciated!

Part 20

#lovelyfanatical shares #drukkari gbbo au #drukkari #druig x makkari #eternals #eternals fanfiction #sprite has barely been here but she's so done already #couples who throw food at people together stay together #sorry kingo

[2offayyo-kzt]

“What we do in the daytime”

In which the camera crew decided to follow a typical week at the Rinaldi's !

be indulgent, this is a collaborative fic written by @godfuckingnamehelp and myself, we each wrote in our native language and then used a translator :)

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Chapter 1 :

This month, five crew members tragically died, so the decision was made to suspend filming at the vampire residence; and to take a more thorough approach to the dangerous work being done under these extreme conditions. Thus, three enthusiasts who did not want to interrupt the show, decided to get the documentary material from safer sources : At the Rinaldi residence.

---||||---

"Sorry guys, I don't believe in God and I don't buy anything else from people like you ! I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU ! You want to sell me overpriced junk that no other idiot would buy !"

Sean got angrier and angrier and could have gone on if he hadn't been interrupted. The film crew very politely asked permission to film the residents of Sean's house during the week.

"Hey, are you the guys following Laszlo around forever ? But why would you film us ? We don't have anything interesting going on..." Sean stopped, a genius thought occurred to him and he smiled pleased with himself.

"Never mind though, you can come back tomorrow morning !"

The door slammed shut and a cry was heard behind it : "DARLING, TOMORROW WE'RE GOING TO BE FILMED FOR SOME SHOW ON TV. I'VE MADE ALL THE ARRANGEMENTS !"

---||||---

"Hey, where should I look ?"

Sean stood by the open door, it was early morning, and Rinaldi's face showed sleepiness. The small camera crew, composed of two cameramen and one boom operator, were looking at him. Sean was dressed in a suit and an untied red tie that was slung over his neck. His hair was combed back with a lot of gel, and he had a razor cut on his cheek.

"We don't do that very often, here's Lasz always looking like he's doing a talk show. Charmaine in general always looks gorgeous too, just not in the morning."

He looked at those present with a smile and looked a little disappointed when no one laughed.

"Well you come on in ! Home sweet home." Sean made an inviting hand gesture.

"Charmaine's still doing something in the bathroom. The last time I went to check on her she was shaking her head, it's creepy so I decided not to go see her anymore."

Mrs. Rinaldi showed up at the door, her face flaunting a wide Hollywood smile, her hair curled and beautifully styled.

She was wearing her iconic leopard print dress which showed off her curves, with the Jade necklace given by her husband.

"My goodness, you're so early ! Are you filming already ? Do I look good on camera A ? Just between you and me, how popular is this show of yours ?"

Charmaine spoke very quickly and there was excitement in her voice. After the girl with the camera said it was a documentary, she sank a little, but tried not to show it.

"So we're going to show you how we live. We're regular humble Americans who live in peace and harmony in a quiet neighborhood of New York City."

Sean interrupted her giggle and she tried to discreetly elbow him.

Mrs. Rinaldi continued : "This house is our cozy family nest. Seanie and I are very happy living here, let me show you the living room. I'm not quite sure what I should do, you'd better tell me now."

She smiled nervously and headed into the living room, accompanied by the members of the camera crew. Sean mumbled something and headed after his wife.

---||||---

During the story of the trip to Atlantic City, which for some unknown reason took place in the bathroom, Charmaine looked at Sean and shrieked in horror. The man looked behind him with fright, but Charmaine grabbed him by the shoulders, laughed awkwardly and surprisingly sharply, and tightly tightened his tie.

Mr. Rinaldi began to make attempts to loosen his tie, which was tied too tight, while his wife said with anger and embarrassment : "Could you tie his tie later in the edit. Such horror !"

She threw a look full of indignation at Sean.

---||||---

Sean and Charmaine have done their best to prove themselves and sit tired on the couch surrounded by the camera crew (even Charmaine's enthusiasm has diminished). After the camera girl replies that they just need to live their normal lives, with a glance, they decide to do some breakfast cooking. Charmaine leaves to change into more appropriate clothes and Sean found himself being interviewed in private.

| "How many years have you been married ?"

"Ohohoh good question..." Sean stared at the camera lens, seemingly lost, and then starts counting on his fingers "8..9..10.. Oh I know ! That was the same year Ocean's Eleven came out, so 2001 baby." He made little pistols with his fingers, looking proud of himself.

"Don't ask me how many years it is though, do the math yourself, next question !"

Sean was really enthusiastic about answering the crew's questions, it wasn't the first time cameras had been pointed at him, in fact he had taken part in numerous game shows, he explained in detail how he had managed to win a million dollars at the age of 27 thanks to his "incredible brain", despite this he had been doing a lot of odd jobs because the money had gone fast in the casinos, much to Charmaine's regret.

| "What do you value most about your wife ?"

Sean smiles peacefully "It may sound stupid, but... probably the fact that she understands me like an open book, like wiiide open, she knows me so well, it's terrific. Even Lasz only knows a tiny part of the man I am…”

“Well it's mutual ! With only one look ! I know right away what she has on her heart, we're like one soul in two separate bodies, we fight.. a lot ! But I doubt we can live without each other."

Upon hearing these words, the boom operator made a monstrous effort not to drop a tear; he had witnessed the couple's typical bickering and all the monumental bullshit of this man over the last four years, but the love he had for his wife was truly exceptional.

---||||---

Charmaine was now back in the living room, wearing a simple gray jogging suit (Seanie's) and a zebra print tank top, her hair tied up in a sloppy bun.

"Let's cook !" she exclaimed to her husband and the cameras with a bright smile.

"I saw a new recipe for mugcake, we need to try this one !"

"Okay sweetheart." Sean got up from the couch, still wearing his suit and headed into the bathroom, on her side Charmaine took out all the necessary ingredients and put them on the counter.

"I saw this recipe on Instagram, I'll be honest with you guys, I suck at cooking *she smiles embarrassedly at the camera*, usually it's Seanie who does all the food stuff... He's really good at it !"

As she spoke, she washed her hands and took out her phone to open Instagram.

"He explained to me that when he was little, he often had to cook by himself, as his mother was often ill...poor woman... depression is really a bitch."

With these harsh words, Sean entered the kitchen, dressed in a simple white tank top and plaid shorts.

"OMG SEANIE IS THAT YOUR UNDERWEAR ?"

The man winced at the shrill voice.

"HELL NO ! I'M NOT STUPID... it's my shorts !"

Charmaine seemed relieved : "It's not my fault that you buy shorts identical to your underwear… anyways, go help me here."

"Sooo ~ what are we doing ?" He approached his wife (concentrate on getting the scale out of the drawer), and grabbed her butt : "Cake ~ ?" he said with a huge grin.

"STOP SEANIE !"

She turned violently, ready to punch her husband in the shoulder, but Sean stopped her by grabbing her wrist with a firm hand.

The woman struggled like a rabid Chihuahua and Sean could not help but laugh.

"GET OFF OF ME, DUMBASS !"

"All right, all right..." he slightly released the pressure on the wrist. "Only if you give me a kiss."

"In your dreams ! Shithead."

Charmaine finally managed to free herself, turning around, giving the camera a sidelong glance.

"Here, make yourself useful and read me the instructions" *she handed her phone to Sean*

"Can't read."

"Oh yeah..." an understanding look being shared between them.

"Unless you want the recipe ready for tonight."

"Sorry, hmm.." she took the phone in hand again and decided to turn on the video.

Sean turned to the camera feeling compelled to explain : "I'm dys, you know, I have trouble reading text and shit, especially on small screens, that's why I've always preferred movies to books."

Charmaine followed the tutorial with the utmost care, she wanted something perfect and she will get something perfect.

And as her husband looked out into the garden, lost in thought, Charmaine put the finished mugcake in the microwave.

Sean snapped out of his reverie when he heard sparks, he rushed to the microwave and opened it in a hurry.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND, YOU LET THE FUCKING SPOON IN IT ?!!!"

Charmaine was petrified on the spot "I didn't know Seanie..."

"UH UHH ? You're damn lucky." Sean took a tea towel to remove the hot cup from the machine.

"WHY IT'S ALWAYS MY FAULT ?!"

Sean turned around looking genuinely angry and not worried as before :

"Because YOU'RE THE ONE, who put the FUCKING SPOOON, IN IT... not ME !"

"FUCK YOU SEANIE." Charmaine looked as if she was about to cry, the camera turned to her who was now walking out of the kitchen.

"What is wrong with this woman.. She's driving me crazy." the man murmured half-heartedly, busy cleaning up the counter and cleaning up the mess.

---||||---

"The mugcake is readyyyy !" Sean had walked into the living room, mug in hand, watching his wife sulking on the couch in front of a TV shopping show.

"I don't want it."

"Fuck you then, I'll eat it."

"NO ! it's MY mugcake ! I made that shit myself… GIVE IT BACK ! IT'S MINEEEE-"

Sean smiled as he heard her come to herself.

And as she screamed at the top of her lungs, Sean took spoonfuls of the cake into his mouth, avoiding his wife who had thrown herself at him and was reaching for the mug in vain.

"Nuah uhh, mtoo lated." said Sean with his mouth full.

That morning, Charmaine never got the opportunity to taste her mugcake.

---||||---

The film crew decided to leave Sean and Charmaine for a while, instead they decided to interview another resident of the house.

Ten minutes later, Joan was sitting on the bed in her room, ready to be interviewed.

| "Are you proud of your son ?"

A kind smile appeared on her sweet, wrinkled face.

"My son, my sweet boy. Such an independent young man, successful. Oh, he's working at... He's working... And he's trying very hard ! My Seanie is doing a great job !"

| "How do you feel about Charmaine ?"

"She's nice to me. Nice girl. But God ! You should hear how often she and my son scream in this house. And my hearing isn't what it used to be."

| "Do you believe in God ?"

"Do you ? I pray every night, I pray for my son, for his wife. Even for our neighbors, God saves their souls."

Joan looked around fearfully.

"If they have them, of course..."

She lowered her voice to a whisper.

"You know that, don't you ? They are the defeats of Satan. Devils in the flesh."

The old woman rose from her seat. And walked over to the cameramen.

"They drink people's blood so they can stay young forever."

Her frantic gaze stopped on the girl with the camera and Joan unexpectedly grabbed her arm tightly.

"Don't mess with them young lady, save your soul. Don't let them drag you down to hell."

After that, Joan refused to answer any questions and went to bed.

---||||---

"See you guys tomorrow ! Be safe on the road." With these words, Sean half asleep locked the door, leaving the camera crew on the landing.

The crew packed up their stuff in the minivan, ready to head towards a seedy local hotel.

"I don't know about you guys but I don't think I want to interview the vampires anymore." said the boom operator.

The rest of the team turned to him, wondering if he too had caught the brain scramblies.

"Seeing me in pain during the break, Charmaine offered me a massage ! And trust me, this woman is doing God's work for real." he exclaimed, doing a little shoulder dance.

---||||---

"Really, I've always wanted to shoot for a program like "In the Animal World." But damn, it's incredibly fascinating to shoot people, especially when they act human, if you know what I mean."

The rest of the crew nodded their heads in agreement. For the first time after filming, they left for rest in good spirits.

Cheerful voices could be heard from the van. "Hey, my money's on Charmaine yelling at Sean twice tomorrow."

"Okay, then I bet Sean mentions Ocean's 11 three times !"

"No dude, Ocean's 12 ! He always has been 'a Twelve man at heart' remember ?"

They laughed, knowing full well that 3 poor hours of sleep awaited them.

---||||---

Author's note :

gfnh (@godfuckingnamehelp) : Seanie and Charmaine main characters omg. Just look at them ! Btw I really enjoyed working in a team ;)

kzt (@2offayyo-kzt) : I hope y'all enjoyed chapter one ! I'm having a lot of fun writing this fic with gfnh :D so far we've written 2 out of 7 chapters (the rest will be posted on ao3) stay tuned folks 🤙

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