#@dumpster-sock

[anakinetenno]

They have such a cool dynamic, it’d be interesting to have a Dan and Elise focused episode (besides The Ski Trip)

[hellcatazura]

Did I stand in this particular bit of alley just so I could make a cum dumpster joke? Yes I did.

📸 Stephie Scarlet Self tied

[winter-hoof]

Here’s my shitty basement floor and the original asbestos tiles under the vinyl that I'm finally getting removed soon !! First steps towards finally having a nice clean functional finished basement for the first time in my life omg

[green-ray-blog1]

Ah, but isn't that where JC was clever? He also kept WWX's flute, Chengqing. Doubled his chances of WWX finding relevance in something JC had ! He's not the cultivator who brought YMJ back up for nothing, he knows how to plan ahead!

Something about Liu Qingge and Jiang Cheng both carrying around physical objects of their loved ones so they can return it, but the Receiving never quite has the same impact as the Returning. LQG carrying around Shen Qingqiu's fans until he can take it back, except SQQ's already forgotten about it/gotten a new one and no longer has the same use for it. JC carrying suiban around on his back until he finds Wei Wuxian, except WWX can no longer use it. There is no real relevance for the objective on the receiving end. Not anymore, at least. And it's very. Hmm.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 8: Nobody’s Son, Nobody’s Daughter

You hate how weak you are, sometimes.

That a text can ruin your whole day.

>> Hey. I hope you’re doing well. I miss hearing from you.

You’re fuming. Absolutely fuming. In under fifteen seconds you’re on your feet, face hot and heart pounding as you stomp across the old wooden floor.

“I’ll be right back.” You grunt to Johnny and Kyle, ignoring their wide, confused eyes and fast walking past them and out the back door.

The sun is up for longer now, only just beginning to set. It’s hot and hard to breathe, which only makes you more pissed off. Your skin prickles and blood rushes in your ears. You hate the way your hands shake. Your boot connects with the dumpster hard. It hurts, but you’re too pissed to really care. You just need it out of your system - the metal sending a ringing, gong-like sound bouncing around the back alley as you repeatedly slam your foot into it.

How dare he?

Miss hearing from you? YOU?

He ignores you for your whole childhood and teenage years - didn’t even try - and he misses hearing from you!? Couldn’t ever remember your age or grade when you did see him and he hopes your doing well!? Blew you off for his other kids for years and he fucking misses you!

How the hell did he even get your new number? Your mom, probably. The traitor. Fuck.

“Think that bin’s ‘ad enough, bird.” Simons voice startles you. He glances down at the dent you somehow managed to make. Your foot throbs when you put it back on the ground, shifting your weight onto the other one. One of your toes is bleeding, you think. You hand feel it soaking into your sock.

You look away, face hot from embarrassment now. “Didn’t know anyone was out here…”

Simon takes you in for a moment. Usually you don’t mind it - his intense silences - but right now it feels like being dissected. Like he’s pulling your skin back to reveal that squirming, tar-like creature aways simmering just a layer beneath. The pathetic little worm you try so hard to cover with a functional facade.

“Smoke?” He tilts the pack toward you. You wrinkle your nose - it’s a shit brand - but at the moment you wouldn’t care if it was made of actual shit as long as it had nicotine.

You pick one out and plop down on the weird curb that lines the opposite side of the alley. Simon sits beside you, raising his lighter toward you cupping his hand around the little flame to light your cigarette. It’s intimate, in a way, and if you had the emotional elasticity for it you might have blushed.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks after a few drags.

You shrug. “Dads suck.”

Simon hums. “That they do.”

“It’s just like-“ You make an exasperated sound and run your fingers through your hair. “Like if you’re not around for fuckin’ twenty years, you don’t get to act upset when I don’t want to talk ever. Just because now I’m the one that set the boundary. It’s stupid. It’s mean.”

Simon nods along as you ramble, your voice trailing off eventually. You both sit there quietly, for a moment. This is the type of silence that you don’t mind. Enjoy, even. Just existing together. At first you thought he hated you, or just didn’t like much of anybody, but you’ve come to theorize that he’s the same as you. That he gets stuck in his head, too. It’s nice, having someone to sit with without the need to entertain them. To preform.

Your lip quivers even as you attempt to stop it by sinking your teeth in. A killing blow. It doesn’t work. You bury your face in your hands. “I don’t know why I’m crying…”

“Because you’re hurt.” Simon bluntly replies. It’s soft, though. As soft as a voice like his can be.

“He doesn’t deserve it.” You sob, messily wiping at your eyes. Your eyeshadow is probably smudged to hell now but you can’t bring yourself to care. Hopefully the others don’t ask about it.

An arm wraps around you, tucking you close. The surprise of it almost knocks you out of your crying fit entirely. Simon isn’t touchy. With anyone. He doesn’t look at you, just keeps his eyes forward while he takes a long drag, but that arm remains around your shaking shoulders with you pressed to his side.

It’s quiet, as it usually is when you close up with just Simon. The others took off for the night. Johnny said something about a date before dragging Kyle off arm in arm. They must have set up some kind of double date for the evening. John’s last appointment had to reschedule so he knocked off early as well. It’s nice, really, to be alone in the shop with Simon. He lowers the music, helps you with sweeping and the trash. Tells you the newest joke from wherever the hell he gets them. Popsicles, you think, based on his sweet tooth and the quality of pun.

“C’mon. We’re takin’ a field trip.” Simon tilts his head toward the street past the turn to your apartment. He still insists on walking you home, even if the sky is still relatively bright.

You look up, frowning. ��Where?”

“You’ll see.”

You follow him down the quiet street. It’s warm and muggy as you go. You keep glancing up at Simon, waiting for some sort of tell. Some hint at where he’s leading you. In the back of your mind, you become innately aware that Simon is probably the only man you’d follow this blindly.

You nearly knock into him when Simon comes to a sudden stop. “Here.”

You look up, squinting at the tacky sign in what you can only describe as “intense manly man” font. Bold, blocky letters in bright orange with faux cracks scattered through the letters.

TANTRUM TANK

A mixture of stunned and curious leaves you quietly following Simon in. You press the spot between your brows to dissipate the confused frown. The lobby is pretty basic with a few decorations that mimic the style of the sign. Cracked facades and black walls. The room is lined with plastic chairs and a couple safety posters reminding patrons not to hit each other with the bats. A large television screen flashes between images of people in hazmat suits smashing various garbage and debris, pausing on a menu of times and prices.

“Simon!” A man appears behind the counter, face bright. “Here for your usual hour?”

Simon steps up to the counter, nodding in your direction. “Actually, I’ve got a plus one.”

The man’s brows raise and he looks you over, giving you ashort, polite greeting. You nod and smile back, pretending like you know why you’re here at all. You just watch as Simon briefly chats with the clerk who obviously knows him well. He’s a regular here, then. He doesn’t give anything away, just makes some brief, perfunctory small talk before taking a key and waving you after him. Why’d he bring you here, of all people?

Your heart skips at the thought of Simon wanting to do something with you, though. He brought you here because he wants to hang out - in his own way. He must do this with the other boys, too. Maybe one of them bailed on him or something. Part of you wonders if he didn’t want to come alone, but that doesn’t sound like him. Plus, you can’t say that its’ at all out of character for him to decide something and just do it with no other communication. You also can’t say you mind much. Not with him.

“You come here with the others a lot?” You ask as you follow him back to the room.

“No.”

You frown. Oh.

The two of you lapse into silence as you put your things away into designated lockers. There’s a sort of interim room before the actual rage room with storage and a few stacks of protective gear in various sizes. Simon’s quick about it. Practiced. He slips on the protective plastic suit quickly while you grunt and struggle with unfolding it. Your hair crinkles with static as you finally get the mass of plastic unfurled and step into it. Of course the one that fits you around is too damn long. At least the gloves fit.

“Simon?” You murmur, finally finding your voice - as weak as it comes out. “Why’d you bring me here?”

He looks you over for a moment with that same steady gaze as before. You’ve never felt seen like you do with Simon. Even with the others… they don’t see to the core of you like he does. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Some pathetic little part of you left over from your misunderstood teenage years.

“I ’ad a pretty shite father.” Simon says as he zips up his suit. “Taught me a lot of anger. I didn’t- I don’t want to be like ‘im. Don’t want people t’be scared…”

You stare, wide eyed, frozen in place. As if any movement would disrupt this new found honesty - would frighten the man away from confiding in you. It’s sudden and far more than you’ve gotten out of him in the months you’ve known each other. It’s too special to risk.

“Sometimes you’ve got t’get it out of your system. Better than breaking your foot on a skip.” He snorts, stepping forward and carefully pushing a pair of safety glasses over your eyes. One hand runs over your hair just for the briefest moment; another lightly pats your cheek before he turns on his heel, grabbing one of the bats hanging on the wall and making for the door.

You stare after him, shell shocked by both the admission and uncharacteristic physical touch. You involuntarily reach up to trace your fingertips over the cheek he touched.

Don’t want people to be scared…

A part of you breaks in the back of your mind. The obvious, unsaid ‘of me’ sits heavily on your tongue. Some distant image of what he might have looked like as a child. Small and blonde with those big dark eyes… You gulp down a tight breath and follow after him, just a little too close to crying at the implication.

Simon gestures toward a crooked, half broken office desk. “Ladies first.”

And oh, if that first swing wasn’t the best release you’ve had in a long, long time.

A/N: Sorry for being inactive the past couple weeks, I could literally write a novel with how much as happened irl🙃

Anyhoo next part y’all are getting lots of Price because that homecoming skin has got me fucked up

[harmucat]

A sock.

[p0rk-guts]

hey its pinkie pies birthday i thought you should know

Hai I didn't see this yesterday but I appreciate that you notified me as I am the number one Pinkie Pie enjoyer ever in the world. It was a wonderful Wednesday<3

[lemonavocado]

happy birthday to a book i like a little bit!!!!! ft the frankenshrine

sorry its so lame, my collection is not as robust as i thought it was sigh

do u guys wanna see my frankenshrine

[goatgoesmbe]

(i work in IT so, time to be self-indulgent once again)

Reader! who works as head IT in the 141 base. The stereotypical loner who rarely got out of your workstation, spending most time with screens. Only went out to get food, but didn't stay to eat, prefer to do it in your lone self.

I'm talking cave gremlin. allergic to sun and people. Messy hair, dark eyebags, caffeine addict, crumpled hoodie, pajama pants, horrible posture, socks with sandals.

But somehow, they didn't turn their nose up at you and all those traits. They saw you as some kind of skrunkly kitten- they just wanted to wrap you in a blanket like a burrito. A skittish one that made them take their time getting close to you until you deemed it okay to be pet by them.

When they saw you for the first time (even though you've worked at 141 for a long time already, you've just never met since they were busy out, and you're rarely out of your cave), nose scrunched up cutely, sleepy eyes, wanting to be anywhere rather than where people are present- looking for Laswell to give her some important shit in the harddrive your holding. They think you're the most attractive being they have ever seen.

Eventually, you started to be more involved with them. Guiding their moves through the radio, providing info they needed before infiltrating enemy's base.

Since you're basically part of the team now (you can't say no, you're like some cat picked up from a dumpster unwillingly taken home to get some loving)- you're gonna need a codename.

And so they call you raccoon. Because it's obvious, you're like their adorable trash panda

[humiliatemeplesse]

Now that you're down there crawl over to me and hold up my stinking foot and sniff my sock stink. You wanna come to a gym and check all of us out you're gonna pay one way or another. We don't like faggots here. All the guys are watching you, just wait till you start degrading yourself with your faggot face in my stinking socks, you're gonna hear verbal abuse that'll make you fucking cry. Kiss 'em and beg me to not beat the shit outta you. We probably will anyway but you can give it a good try. Maybe we'll all stomp you in our sweaty stinking socks, most of the guys don't change 'em very often. When you find yourself coming out of unconsciousness behind the dumpster stinking like our socks, you won't come here anymore. Fucking faggots.

[tgirlwithreverb]

I saw that post about what to do if you're homeless again (the one that starts by telling you to spend all of your money on motel rooms lmao) anyway, here's a few thoughts, specifically for trans girls, cuz I don't really care otherwise tbh:

1) plan ahead, most trans girls are in precarious housing situations, you will have a much easier time when it falls apart if you already have a pack with most of the gear you need in it. Also, if you find yourself in a situation where you cant make rent, dont pay part of it, spend that money on gear, pocket the rest and leave, youll have a much nicer time. Look up your local eviction laws, you have plenty of time. (Gear list at the end)

2) travel! If you're in Arizona in May, leave. it's about to be hot as hell. If you're in Michigan in October, leave. It's about to be cold as hell. If you're in a big city, leave. It's way easier to be homeless pretty much anywhere else. Amtrak is cheaper and more comfortable than greyhound, hitchhiking is free and easy, if you're alone it's not that much slower than the previous two, and it's more fun, and sometimes people buy you food or whatever or give you money. I promise it's not scary and you're entirely capable of doing it, no matter who you are. 95+% of people who will pick you up are very nice. All you have to do is take the bus out of town, as far down the highway you can, to an exit with a truck stop if possible, then just stand on the side of the road with your thumb out until someone picks you up. You can stand at the bottom of the ramp(on the highway) near where the merge lane ends or at the top of the ramp(where there's usually a traffic light), the former is more likely to lead to cop interactions but will maybe get you a ride faster, check on hitchwiki for how the cops are in the area. don't be afraid to take a commuter bus or Amtrak to get out of a shitty cop area

3) skip shelters if you can (they are very occasionally a decent place to get stuff from) and encampments, good places to sleep include the trees near railroad tracks or highways, wooded areas behind shopping centers, sections of parks without paths, overgrown empty lots. Hang a tarp above you if there's an appreciable chance of rain, there's tons of YouTube tutorials on how to do this, maybe I'll make a post about what I usually do some day. There are many habits more fun than motel rooms, save your money for them lmao.

4) get on food stamps. This is easier in some places than others, but it makes the whole thing a lot easier. Just tell them you're homeless, if they don't give you a card the same day, you can probably ask to pick it up from that office, alternatively some drop in centers/day shelters can receive mail for you, or you can have it sent to general delivery(USPS service, look it up)

7) libraries are great for charging your phone and using wifi, but also keep an eye out, plenty of random outlets on the outsides of buildings are also powered

5) dumpster. sidewalk trash cans, Aldi, Einstein's, trader Joe's, pizza places, etc. You need to develop a bit of a sense for it but it's an easy way to get cooked food or travelling food or expensive food without spending resources. Also it's fun.

6) water is free, go into the bathroom of any gas station or grocery store in America(offer not valid in most big cities or on the west coast, but in that case just go to the library) and fill up your water bottle

8) hygiene notes: truckers get free showers from chain truck stops(loves, pilot/flying j) go there and ask them. convenient if you're hitchhiking, also you don't need to shower 3 times a day, really, you'll survive. Ditto with deodorant. Take care of your teeth though. Take your socks off every. day. Change them consistently. Safety razors give a good shave, work well without adequate water pressure, and the replacement blades are very stealable, they're kind of heavy though. Walmart makes these electric razors for women that take AA batteries and are pretty light but give a worse shave, also they kinda go through batteries, pick whatever works for you(cartridge razors suck)

9) traveling food notes: peanut butter is great, tortillas and bagels travel pretty well, tuna packets are pretty good protein for traveling(the ones with rice and beans or whatever are nice since theyre often the same price as the regular), condiment packets are free, hot sauce makes everything better, and mayo goes well with tuna and has a bunch of calories in it, salad dressing packets are free from truck stops and work well turning the Walmart shredded vegetable packages (labeled for making into slaw, next to the bagged salads) into a salad with real vegetables(not iceberg lettuce) in it or mixing in with tuna packets for even more calories than mayo

Gear world:

Necessary items(in order of importance): a gallon of water carrying capacity(an Arizona jug or other twist top jug is conventional, but a bladder+arizona bottles also works), a tarp(larger than 6'x9', not brightly colored), a hank of parachord, a sleeping bag (20° rated, synthetic insulation), a backpack with a padded hip belt(at least 50L, no more than 75), rain gear(a rain poncho might cover your pack too, a rain jacket can help with wind when its cold, a trash bag inside or outside your pack can keep it dry, a plan to watch the weather and not get caught also works), a z-fold foam sleeping pad, three pairs of socks, two pairs of underwear (at least one pair of boxer breifs strongly recommended if you arent incredibly skinny), a decent pair of shoes with good arch support, a functional jacket(skip if you got a rain jacket before), a base layer(wool or poly, absolutely no cotton)

Convenient items: a sleeping bag liner(cotton free, keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer), gallon zip locks to pack your stuff in(helps keep it dry and organized), no more than one change of clothes(as light as possible), a multi-tool(can opener, pliers, wire cutter), lighter(burning rope ends etc), spoon, floss and needles for patching

[sluttyten]

Freaky Love

Kinktober Day 6 | Ten Masterlist | Member Masterlist

tags: stalking, obsession, smoking, masturbation, pillow humping, voyeurism, dub/noncon, gloryhole, anonymous sex, blindfold, riding, fingersucking

length: 7717

You’ve been watching him for days now.

Ten.

Studying his movements, his schedule. You know that he goes into work every day at two in the afternoon, except for Wednesdays and Thursdays. You know that he takes a thirty minute break around 5:30, that he sneaks several smoke breaks in periodically throughout his shift, sneaking out to the dumpster behind the restaurant or sitting in his coworker Mark’s car. You know Ten gets off work around 11 o’clock at night, that he walks back to his apartment, maybe stopping at the corner store for some drinks, maybe ordering delivery.

It’s because of his bad habit of just ordering in that you met Ten, that this whole obsession began.

It had been a miserably misty evening in early October. Sunday nights usually weren’t too busy, and this night was no exception. You’d been twiddling your thumbs for the better part of your shift, and finally Ten’s order came in, and you’d immediately taken it. 

The entire ride to the delivery address, you kept wondering what kind of name Ten was. That’s a number, not the name of a person, in your experience. And any time you’d had deliveries to people with weird names, they’d been weird people too. So you were curious what to expect when you reached the door of the apartment building, as you buzzed up on the box outside the door, as someone inside let you in, and then you were climbing up the stairs, breathless by the time that you arrived at apartment 5A.

Ten opened the door, and you were amazed. He wasn’t the weirdo you’d been envisioning. He was pretty cute. His hair was a little scruffy, dyed a deep navy blue. There was a pair of wire-frame glasses sliding down his nose, and he was wearing an oversized hoodie unzipped, basketball shorts, and a pair of mismatched socks. A cat poked its head between his legs, wrapping its tail around his calf as he grabbed cash to tip you.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized as he handed you your tip, offering you a sweet, charming smile along with the meager cash. “This is all I’ve got.”

His fingers brushed yours, and you felt the tingle shoot up from your fingertips right to your heart like Cupid’s arrow. 

And just like that, you were hooked.

For the next few days, you kept eagerly waiting for Ten to order again, hoping he would while you were on shift, and you’d be able to claim the delivery before any of the other drivers. You wanted to see him again, and after three days, it got to the point where you decided to just take a walk by his apartment building, hoping you’d see him.

You passed by right around two, just in time to see Ten flying down the stairs of the building, sprinting down the street in the black slacks and pressed white button down of his work uniform, apron fluttering in his hand. 

Curiosity got the better of you, and you’d followed him. That’s when you saw where he worked. You went inside, got a table, and delightfully, Ten was your waiter. He was flirty and sweet, chatty since you were dining alone. And it was when he was coming back to your table with your meal, as he sat it down in front of you, he’d said, “Were you my delivery girl the other night? I swear, I recognize you from somewhere.”

He recognized you! 

But you had to play it cool. Casual. “Oh, probably. I deliver for the restaurant I work at. Do you order from there a lot?” 

He’d stood there for a few minutes, chatting with you about that, about regulars and the pains that they could be. He had to walk away to take care of another table, but your heart was soaring. Ten remembered you! He’d stood here and talked with you, and you couldn’t help thinking that he’d only reluctantly left to go take care of the other table, that he’d wanted to stay here talking with you. 

That was just another layer on top of your growing obsession with him. 

You sat there for another couple hours, nursing your drink, slowly eating your food, ordering dessert, keeping an eye on Ten as he danced around his section, grinning and flirting with customers for tips. You loved watching him move; he was graceful like a dancer, light on his feet, and well-balanced even when laden down with a heavy tray of meals for a table.

It became a hobby of yours after that, to just check in on Ten occasionally. You couldn’t afford to  eat all the time at the restaurant where he worked, but there was a coffee stand right next door that offered a nice view in through the plate glass windows, so you could often sit on one of the tables at the coffee stand, sipping at your drink, pretending to read or work on something for hours while you watched him.

And then one Friday night, you were sitting outside when he got off work. You overheard him talking to his coworker – Mark, you’d helpfully learned when you “accidentally” ran into him in the back alley while he was smoking – about plans to go out to a bar later tonight. 

The bar was notorious for being a hook-up spot. It gave off more of a club vibe than just a bar, but it was grimy enough that it wasn’t one of the chic clubs that people typically favored. You were surprised to hear that Ten was going, and although your plans for the night had been to simply follow him home before heading back to your own place, suddenly your plans shift. You’ll be going out tonight too, coincidentally. 

Maybe you would accidentally bump into Ten there. Maybe he would be excited to see you again, like he’d been at his restaurant.

You get to the bar after Ten and Mark, spotting them as soon as you walk in. Ten’s at the bar ordering drinks while Mark stands right behind him, talking with a pretty girl. You linger in the shadows, observing them as they take shots, as Mark disappears onto the dancefloor with the girl, and Ten soon follows them into the press of bodies.

There are so many people dancing, pressed together that you struggle to squeeze through the crowd, trying to search for Ten among the writhing bodies. People are just dancing on each other, touching and grinding in an orgiastic ecstasy along to the beat of the music. You manage to squeeze between Ten and some girl, edging yourself between them until you’re the one dancing with Ten, his hands on your hips.

He must recognize you, you think, even with your back to him. He holds tight to your hips, and you grind back against him, swaying your hips to the music while he rolls his hips forward against your ass. 

You lose track of time like that, reveling in being in Ten’s proximity, being touched by him. His hands eventually skim across your belly, down to your thighs, up your chest. You’re soaking your panties, so aroused as Ten’s grinding against your ass, as he squeezes your tits. His lips brush along your throat, licking and sucking. 

And maybe if cruel fate hadn’t intervened, you could have gone home with Ten, could have fucked him and made him really fall in love with you. But some fool set a fire in the bathroom trash can, setting off the sprinklers. In the panic of screams and pushing and shoving, you and Ten are separated, and even once you make it outside onto the street – looking and feeling like a drowned rat – he’s nowhere to be seen.

But you hold the memory of the dancefloor close to your heart over the following days, treasuring it late at night when you’re in your bed, touching yourself thinking about what could have been. You wonder if Ten’s thinking about you too, wishing that he’d have held onto you a little tighter when you first sprang apart as the sprinklers unleashed overhead. You wonder if he’s been sitting in his apartment, considering if he should order delivery again to give him an excuse to see you.

Whether that’s actually the case or not, on the Tuesday following your night at the bar, Ten orders again.

It’s too early in the evening, so you weren’t expecting him to order just yet. He’s never off any earlier than 11, or so you’ve noticed in the last few weeks of watching him. But it’s only 10:45 right now. Had he left work early tonight? Was he sick? Was something wrong?

You take the order, and rush to Ten’s apartment. 

You get there a few minutes after 11. You buzz his apartment, but he doesn’t answer, and then you start getting worried all over again. You buzz his neighbors until finally one of them lets you in. You race up the stairs to apartment 5A, and when you reach it, knocking on the door, there’s still no answer. 

And then you hear a clatter on the stairs behind you.

“Ah, shit!” Ten hisses, reaching down to pick up his keys and his phone. He’s clutching his apron in one hand, balancing his order pad and a bottle of wine in the other hand. He snatches up his fallen possessions, and then climbs the last few stairs to the landing. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry!” Ten apologizes, walking quickly over to you standing in front of his door. “I didn’t think you would be here so fast, usually you guys take around half an hour to get here. I had a stressful night at work so I ordered before I left there, thinking I’d have plenty of time.” 

You step back a bit as he comes up beside you, as he reaches for the keypad door lock. You watch as he punches in the code – 0228 – and then he’s shoving the door open, scrambling inside. He kicks his shoes off into a pile of other shoes. He skids across the floor in his socks, ducking through an open doorway.

You take a step inside.

You’re in Ten’s apartment!

A different cat than the one you’d seen that first night trots towards you before it freezes, tail bristling, and then it bolts through the door Ten had vanished through. He emerges a second later, cradling the cat in one arm, and holding out a few dollars to you with the other. He takes the bag of his food from you, you take the cash, feeling that zing in your fingertips again when your hand brushes his.

“Thank you! Have a great night!” Ten says, shifting the bag from one hand to the other so he can reach for his apartment door. 

Reluctantly you step back out of the apartment, and Ten’s cooing at the cat in his arms as he closes the door, leaving you out in the hallway. 

You try not to let your heart sink. There was no flash of recognition in Ten’s eyes. He didn’t mention the moments you’d shared the other night on the dancefloor at the bar. But he’d told you that he had a stressful night at work, maybe he just wanted to be alone, he didn’t want to burden you with his stresses, he didn’t want to invite you in because he wouldn’t be able to devote his attention to you the way that he knows that you deserve.

But as you’re leaving, as you’re slogging back down the building’s stairs, you pass a pretty young woman climbing up. She’s talking on the phone, giggling as you pass by her. You’re about four steps below her when you hear her giggle into the phone, saying, “Yes, Ten, I’m almost there. Don’t worry, I know the perfect destresser.”

Heat boils in your belly as you twist around to watch her climb the rest of the stairs. She’s going to Ten’s apartment? To help him destress? Is Ten fucking her?

You’re halfway tempted to follow her back up there, to see with your own two eyes that she’s going into his apartment, that Ten’s letting her inside. It can’t be true. Misery weighs heavily in your gut, and you decide you’d better not go up there. You need to get back to work; you’re on shift until 1 o’clock in the morning. 

But the next morning, you’re up early. You couldn’t sleep last night after you got home. You’d been boiling with jealousy at the idea that there was another girl in Ten’s apartment right now. So you’d grabbed yourself a coffee and then plopped yourself down on a bench situated right across the street from Ten’s apartment building. It was really early. The sun was just rising, pouring through the streets to eat away the shadows. And you waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

Around 7:30 you see the building’s door open, and this time the girl from last night walks out. She’s got a bounce in her step, her hair clipped back from her face, and she rummages through her bag as she walks. You hate her. 

Shortly after that, Ten emerges, looking like he’s still half asleep. He’s on the phone, and his voice carries across the street as he says, “Yeah, Kun, I’m on my way. No! I would never forget a brunch date that you set, why would you think that? Oh, yeah, just because YangYang says that he had to text me to wake me up? No!” 

He’s still denying that he forgot his morning plans when he turns the corner. You’re caught for a moment, stuck between following him and doing something a little riskier. You want to go inside his apartment. 

Since watching him punch in the code last night, it’s all you’ve been thinking about. You now have access to Ten’s apartment. You could go in there, surprise him any time that you want.

0228.

The door beeps when you punch the numbers in, the lock clicking as it unlatches, and you turn the handle. The door swings open, and you slip quickly inside.

You wander around for a few minutes, learning the layout, just looking around. The cats – it turns out he’s got three of them – curl together on Ten’s bed, watching you suspiciously. 

Ten keeps a tidy house. There’s not a thing out of place. His bed is made, erasing any sign of the woman from last night. His clothes are all put away in drawers and in his closet. There aren’t any dirty dishes in the sink, the cat’s litter box is clean, there’s a horde of cleaning products tucked beneath his kitchen sink. 

You check out his bedroom. There are a collection of fragrance bottles and skincare products sitting on his chest of drawers. You find a box of sex toys and lube beneath his bed. There’s a stack of books sitting on the floor in the corner, dusty and surrounded by forgotten cat toys. You examine the products inside his bathroom as well – shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, etc.

There’s a half-damp towel hanging to dry in the bathroom, and you wrap your hands in it, bringing it up to your face, breathing in the clean smell of Ten.

Before you leave, you run your fingers through your hair, and with one of the loose strands that tangles around your fingers, you leave it beneath Ten’s pillow. A memory of you.

That night, Ten orders again. It’s his day off, so you’re a little surprised by that. Typically, you’ve learned that he goes out more on his nights off. He doesn’t usually order in. You hope he’s not having that woman over again tonight.

But when you arrive, Ten opens the door by himself. He’s wearing just a tshirt and sweatpants, bare toes sticking out from the dragging hem of the sweatpants. 

“You again,” he smiles. “I bet you’re getting tired of seeing me. Again, sorry about last night, leaving you waiting at my door like that.” He counts out the cash tip, passing it over to you. “I was so all over the place after my day, I wasn’t thinking straight about anything. Ended up having to relax with a bottle of wine, your delicious takeout, and my best friend.” 

Best friend? Not a hookup?

“I hope your day was better today,” you say, “And I don’t mind delivering all the way out here.” You feel heat rising in your face as you admit that. Ten’s at the very edge of your restaurant’s delivery range; most other delivery drivers don’t like coming all the way over here, eager to let you take it when Ten’s order comes in.

Ten smiles brightly. “My day was pretty good, actually.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hold out a card to Ten. It’s got your store’s logo printed on one side of it, the other side has a QR code. “Um, we’re doing a contest sort of thing. Free delivery for a year. All you have to do is scan the code, fill out the survey, and you’re entered to win.”

Ten takes the card, flipping it one way and then the other. “That would be awesome. Thanks.” 

“Anyway, have a good night.” You take a step back, your heart racing. You can’t believe you did that. There’s no contest, not really. It’s a QR code that once he scans it, a bug will be on his phone. Yeah, there’s some fake survey on the other end of the link for Ten to fill out, but a tech whiz friend of yours that created this for you assured you that Ten wouldn’t be able to tell that you’d put a tracker on his phone. 

“See you around.” Ten waves as you start to walk away.

Hours later, you’re lying in bed at home when your phone dings with the email notification your friend set up once Ten scanned the code. You quickly click through, and there it is. Ten’s location. Now you’ll be able to see wherever he goes.

It’s probably about a week later when you see Ten’s girl best friend again. She’s at the restaurant, standing out by Mark’s car while Ten and Mark sit inside, all three of them smoking. Ten’s laughing at something she’s said, and you move a little closer, hiding behind a fence at the edge of the alley so you can hear what they’re saying. 

“You little freak,” the girl teases Ten. “Listen, some girls might find that hot, but I am not one of them.” 

Mark leans forward then. “Oh, what are you into?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Markie.” She steals the cigarette from his fingers, taking a puff. “But not this, like, voyeuristic, anonymous thing Ten likes. I want a man that wants me for me, knowing everything he’s getting, who knows me.”

“I know you,” Mark mumbles. 

Ten smacks Mark’s arm. “You couldn’t handle her.”

Ten’s best friend laughs, agreeing with Ten’s assessment. “But, seriously, Ten. You need to be careful. That’s risky behavior.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine.” He promises, taking the cigarette back from her, taking a drag from it before dropping it to the ground outside the car and stubbing it out with his toe. “She’s into it, too, I promise.”

The boiling jealousy starts up again in your belly. He’s seeing someone? You haven’t seen anyone over at his apartment except for this woman, and she’s clearly not the one he’s talking about. 

He still has several hours left for his shift, so you go to his apartment. You punch in the code and step right in, and you begin your search for any evidence that Ten’s hooking up with someone. He’d better not be. He’s yours. 

But maybe if there’s some other girl in his life, maybe you need to stake your claim, mark him as yours.

Ten’s cats are running around the living room when you walk into his bedroom and close the door. You lie down on his bed, bury your face in his pillow and breathe in. With your eyes closed you can almost pretend like he’s here with you, that you’ve spent the night and now you’re waking up beside him. You can almost imagine what it would feel like to have the memory of his hands on your bare skin, and thoughts of that lead you to thinking about his hands on your thighs, pressing them apart for him to fit between.

Your pussy throbs. 

You sit up, climbing off Ten’s bed only long enough to take your clothes off, stripping down to nothing. But that’s not enough. You walk over to Ten’s closet, run your hands over his clothes hung so carefully, and you select a tshirt, drawing it over your head. It falls to the tops of your thighs, just barely covering your bits. The shirt is so soft against your skin, it smells like Ten.

You lie back down, your hand immediately slipping between your thighs. 

You dive back into the fantasy, letting it take over as you slide your fingers over your slick pussy. In your fantasy Ten kisses and bites at your thighs, marking you up as he fingers you, all the while telling you how much he loves you, how much he needs and wants you, that he just wants you to cum for him before he takes care of his own wants. 

Ten’s name is on your lips as you cum around your fingers, but even that’s not enough. You’re still needy for more.

You hesitate for only a moment before you sit up, grabbing one of the pillows from the head of his bed. You grab your phone from where you left it on the floor, and you prop it up on Ten’s bedside table, aiming it towards the bed, angled just to the point where you can’t see your face. You wad his pillow up between your thighs, and you sink down onto it.

It feels so good to just hump the pillow, the friction of the fabric against your clit, knowing that Ten will lay his head to rest on this pillow after you’d soaked it in your wetness. You drag the hem of the shirt up, pinching it between your teeth as you bring one of your hands to your chest to tease your nipples, and your other hand you clench in the pillow. 

You let the fantasy take over again, imagining that you’re above Ten, riding him, grinding on his cock while he touches your chest. You ride his pillow like you would ride him, enthusiastically bouncing, moaning his name, and when your orgasm sears through you, you collapse to the side, grabbing your phone to end the recording. 

Before you leave, you put the pillow back where it belongs. You take the shirt off and hang it back in his closet. You straighten the bed up, leaving no obvious sign that you were there.

You didn’t see any trace of any other woman that Ten’s fucking around with, and that does leave you with a funny feeling in your belly. The whole way back to your apartment, you’re busy wondering what that was about, what Ten’s best friend meant about his risky behavior, but maybe if he’s doing anonymous sex with random strangers, she’s just worried about him practicing safe sex.

For the next few days, you watch his location, checking to see if it looks like he’s going to any apartments that aren’t his. And when it looks like he’s going out, whether that’s to a bar or a restaurant or anywhere public, you quickly make your way there. You just want to see who he’s hooking up with, want to see who they are so you can make them end things with him.

But every time, he’s either alone or with his friends; the only girl you ever see him with is his girl best friend. Sometimes you check his location while you’re at work, curious what he gets up to when you’re not watching him. 

One night while you’re at work, around the time that Ten’s getting off, you check his location. He’s walking, walking home probably, though he’s gone a little bit out of his way. He’s closer to your restaurant than he is to home. You watch the dot move, bobbing along the sidewalk, down streets that you walk every day, by your favored convenience store, the grocery store at the end of your block, and then you watch when the dot blips out of existence.

His phone died. That, or he shut it off. 

Maybe he’s meeting up with the mysterious girl he, Mark, and his best friend were talking about. You let rage boil in your belly, pissed that you can’t leave work right now because you were short-staffed for delivery drivers tonight. You could be out on the street looking for him, figuring out where he’s gone, but instead you’re stuck here. 

When the dot marking his location returns, it’s at his apartment. 

It’s out of your way, but you go by there, and you stand on the ground looking up at the fifth floor, at his windows. Ten’s standing there in his bedroom window, looking out at the city, at the street, at the sky. He’s naked. You can see all the bare skin of his chest, his stomach, his hips. You stand down there, looking up at him, studying the shadowy smudges of his tattoos from down here. 

When you get home, you climb into bed, you curl up and pull up the video from when you’d been in his room, when you’d cum on Ten’s pillow. You touch yourself again, thinking of him and that video, and as you cum on your fingers, as you close your eyes, you imagine that Ten’s there with you, that you can smell the familiar combination of his cologne and shampoo. 

You want him.

You really, really want him.

Maybe you should let him know. Maybe you should stop hiding, stop watching him from the shadows, and you should ask him out or something. You can’t just keep waiting for him to make a move.

A few days pass. You sit at the coffee stand beside Ten’s job, and you watch him work. You’ve noticed a few times in recent days that after his work day is over, Ten’s phone will die or he’ll shut it off for a few hours, his location only resuming once he’s already back home. You’ve decided you’re going to have to watch him if you want to figure out where he’s going.

You sit there for the rest of his shift, and at eleven, when he walks out the back door of the restaurant, you follow behind him, keeping your distance.

He doesn’t go home, instead you follow his footsteps as he walks to the bar where you danced with him that one night. You linger a dozen feet behind him in the line to get inside. Some rich bleach-blonde woman , comes flouncing out of her fancy car parked at the curb, cuts in front of you, and when you say something about it, she ignores you, turns to one of her friends and says, “I didn’t know they let him bitches in this place.” At which point, you’re seeing red. 

But if you fight this lady, if you get barred from the bar, you won’t get to see what Ten gets up to inside. So you hold your tongue and let the bitch in front of you. By the time you get inside the bar, you’ve lost Ten.

You decide you may as well get a drink while you’re here, and you sit there at the bar, looking out at the crowd, searching for Ten’s face. Eventually you spot him across the bar from you.

He’s leaning against the bar, talking to that woman – the blonde fancy bitch. You grip your glass tightly, overcome with jealousy when the woman lays her hand on Ten’s arm. You leave your drink at the bar, slowly making your way around it to where Ten and the woman stand; you’re not really sure what you’re going to do when you get over there. Maybe bump into Ten and strike up a conversation, get between him and the woman?

As you approach, Ten leans in to whisper in the woman’s ear, his gaze flicking up and briefly touching on yours before he’s closing his eyes once more. You’re close enough then that you can read his lips as he says to her, “Meet me in the bathroom.”

Absolutely the fuck not.

Ten steps away from her, heading right for the back of the bar where the bathrooms are. The woman spins in her seat, watching him go, and as she moves to stand and follow, you quickly cut in front of her.

“Hey,” you say, raising your voice to be heard over the music. “Is that your fancy car parked right out front? Someone just side-swiped it.” 

“What?!” She cries out, and then she’s gone, running for the front door.

It’s not a very good lie, you think. Once she’s outside, she’ll see that her car is fine and just come back inside. Regardless, it got her out of your way.

You walk to the bathroom. 

Ten’s standing in one of the two stalls. You recognize his shoes, and you can see him turn at the sound of the door opening. The second, unoccupied stall’s door is covered in graffiti, most prominently the word COCKSUCKER. 

“Is it you?” Ten asks from within the first stall.

You hum a sound of confirmation, and you step deeper into the bathroom, noticing that within the cocksucker stall is a hole in the wall separating the two stalls. There’s an X graffitied on the floor right in front of the hole. You take that as a guide, and you walk into the stall, heart racing, wondering if this is what Ten had in mind when he invited the woman.

You drop to your knees on the X, and you wait.

“Baby, I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw you,” Ten says from the other side of the wall. You can see his feet shifting, moving closer to the wall. “When we talked, all I could think about was your lips around my cock.”

And there it is. You hear the wall pop slightly as Ten leans his weight against it, as he thrusts his half-hard cock through the hole in the wall. 

This is it. This is finally it. 

Ten’s head hits the wall when you wrap a hand around his cock. He moans softly as you start working your hand up his length, twisting your hand on the upstroke, as you stick out your tongue and tap his cockhead on it before pushing forward to take Ten down your throat. 

You love sucking Ten’s cock. The weight of him on your tongue, how he’s the perfect length. He doesn’t try to tell you what to do, just lets you take control and do what you want, even when that means you’re just drooling around his tip, hands stroking the rest of his cock. 

“Shit,” Ten moans, thumping against the stall’s wall, hips bouncing off of it as he tries to thrust deeper into your throat. “C’mon, baby, show me how much you love my cock, how much you’ve been wanting me too.”

It’s sloppy and wet sounding as you slurp around Ten’s cock, bobbing your head, popping your lips off of his tip to give him little kitten licks along the slit. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Ten bucks forward. The stall rattles. He cums over your tongue, down your throat. Some of it dribbles down your chin. “God, baby, you feel so good.” He rocks shallowly between your lips, and you suck at his tip, savoring the last couple dribbles of cum across your tongue. 

He pulls away, back through the gloryhole carved in the stall. You hear him hit the opposite wall, he sighs. 

You don’t wait around. You get up and push out of the stall, out of the bathroom, fleeing before Ten gets the chance to open his stall and see that you’re not the woman he thought you were. You run out of the bar, noticing as you do that miracles do happen, and someone did in fact side-swipe the car of the fancy bitch. 

You walk away from the bar feeling a little better.

You’re even more deeply obsessed with Ten than you were before, now that you’ve had a taste of him. You dream of that night often, of his cock on your tongue, of his taste spilling down your throat. 

You dream of him touching you. You dream of sneaking into Ten’s apartment at night and climbing into his bed, of kissing him, having him react to you in a lustful, favorable way. 

You still watch his location, and still there are times that his location dot disappears from the map, always times that you can never go check where he’s at, figure out what he’s doing. 

And then one night, his dot disappears while you're at work, but you find out exactly where he is.

“Hey, that Ten guy ordered a pick-up,” your coworker says a few moments after you notice the missing dot. You look up to see that she’s waving a to-go bag at you. “That’s weird, right? He always orders delivery.”

Ten ordered pick-up? He’s coming here?

The door jingles as it’s yanked open, and you look up just in time to see Ten striding inside. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he walks up to your coworker at the pick-up counter. 

“Hey, I have an order for Ten.” 

Your coworker turns, very obviously looking at you. “We’ve got it right here. You know, she’s pretty disappointed you didn’t order delivery. She loves running your order.”

Finally, Ten looks at you. 

He smiles. “I know. We’ve talked about it before. Sorry, but I’m seeing a friend tonight, so no delivery. I thought I’d pick it up on the way.” Ten takes the bag when your coworker slides it over to him. He glances your way, waves, and says, “See you around.”

As soon as the door swings back shut behind Ten, your coworker is already making sad sounds. “Babe, I’m sorry! I was trying to help you out, y'know? Let him know that you’re interested, but I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d say he’s seeing someone.”

You shrug. “It is what it is.”

But it’s not okay. 

For the next two hours of your shift, you’re constantly checking your phone to see if Ten’s location has reappeared. You’re just thinking about him, wondering, worrying that you’ve actually lost your chance this time. This isn’t like at the bar where you stole him away from the blonde bitch. This is him coming here to where you work and telling you that he’s seeing someone tonight, and you have no way of intervening. 

But you’re off at 1 o’clock in the morning, and by the time you get home it’s about 1:30. You open your apartment door, flip on the entryway lights, kick off your shoes. You walk into the kitchen without turning on the lights in there, reach for the bottle of water you left there on the counter. 

Your hand finds nothing but empty air. You sweep your hand over the counter. Nothing. Maybe you actually threw it away in your rush out the door this morning. You head to the bathroom, hop in the shower, and then you climb straight in bed, hating that even after you’ve showered off the work stink you can still smell it on you. 

But you quickly fall asleep, ready to dream about Ten. 

Only you feel as if you’ve only just drifted off when you’re being awoken by the sound of something moving in your apartment. You open your eyes, but the room is pitch black, and after another moment you realize that it’s because you’ve been blindfolded. And someone is prowling around your bedroom. 

You try to sit up, but a hand presses to your chest. You reach out to slap at the man holding you down. 

“Oh, calm down, baby,” he says. “It’s just me.”

“Ten.”

He laughs when you freeze. “Yeah, baby, it’s me. I got tired of waiting.”

His hand runs over your cheek. 

“Waiting?” You shiver. 

“Yes. You’ve been watching me, breaking into my apartment, following me.” He didn’t sound mad at all. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move ever since you masturbated in my bed. But you didn’t.”

“How did you know?” You try to sit up again, but he lays his hand on your chest once more. 

Ten waits for you to settle, and then he says, “That first night you delivered to my apartment, I thought you were beautiful. Maybe I was a little crazy, but it felt like there was a connection. And then you came into the restaurant? It felt like fate, the universe throwing us together.” He trails his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, all the way down to your belly button. 

You’re not sure whether you’re grateful for or mortified about your present nudity. But Ten seems to be appreciating it. 

“And then you started letting yourself into my apartment. I found your hair beneath my pillow, such a pretty color. And then one day, my pillow smelled like… like pussy, sweat, cum. I found another hair from you, but it was on the shoulder of one of my tshirts in my closet, one that was in a different place than I’d left it. I decided to return the favor.” Ten flicks his thumb over one of your nipples. “I knew it was you, I know where you work, and around how late into the night you work, so one night I followed you home. I watched as you climbed up here to your apartment, as you used a key to get in, and I knew it was time to brush up on my locksmith skills. 

“I’ve been in here a few times too, baby. When you were at work. Touched myself in your bed.” Ten’s hand slides lower, all the way down your belly. “It was enough for a little bit, and then I just wanted you. But you weren’t coming to me, so I had to draw you in. At the bar. I wasn’t interested in that other chick, just using her to make you jealous, to tease you into the bathroom, into that stall beside mine.”

“What?” You gasp. He’d known it was you?

“You were exactly where I wanted you to be. Everything I said was about you.” Ten leans in, and you feel his breath on your lips. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. Every time I’ve spoken to you, I’ve done nothing but thought of your lips.”

“But earlier tonight when you came into the restaurant you said….”

“I said I was seeing a friend. You.” Ten moves away from your face, and you feel his lips skim your throat. “God, baby, I’ve been obsessed. Ask my friends, and they’ll tell you that I talk about you all the time. They know I watch you. My best friend and Mark, I’ve pointed you out to both of them, and they think I’m a freak for acting this way. Especially after I told them about one time you came home while I was here, and I hid in your closet, watching you.”

You moan. That’s hot, to think about him watching you when you didn’t even know. 

“They made fun of me for being a freaky voyeur.” Ten kisses down your chest. “But I just… I want you. And I know you want me too, that I had nothing to be worried about because if I’m a freak, then so are you.”

“Yes,” you sigh, arching your chest off the bed. “I’m a freak for you.”

“Yes, you are, baby.” Ten’s moving over you now, sliding between your legs. He flicks his tongue over one nipple, his fingers massaging the other. 

You roll your head against your pillow, wishing you could see Ten right now. You groan, “Ten, why the blindfold?”

He laughs, lifting his head from your tit momentarily to say, “I was going to have some fun, make you try to figure out who I was. You figured it out a lot sooner than I thought you would.”

A moment later, the blindfold is torn away. At last, you look at Ten, finally seeing his face tonight.

“Kiss me,” you demand. “It’s not fair that you haven’t kissed me.”

“I’ve just been waiting for you to ask, baby,” Ten coos, and then he’s there above you, his hand on your cheek, and you lift your head, closing the distance.

The kiss is exactly what you need, the key to unlock your ravenous desires.

You roll Ten over beneath you, pinning him against the bed. You kiss him like it’s the last one you’ll ever have. You don’t bother trying to strip Ten, just sliding your hands down his torso, tugging his shirt up away from his waist, sliding your hands into his pants. 

You’ve had enough of all of this teasing. The past weeks have already been enough foreplay. You just want him, you want Ten entirely.  

Judging by how hard he is, how he’s rocking forward into your touch as soon as you get your hand on his cock, you’d say that Ten feels the same. 

You guide his cock out of his pants, and immediately you’re rolling your hips against his hardness, gliding your pussy along Ten’s length to hear him moan. And if that’s not the most god-damned beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

“C’mon,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands drop to your hips. “Ride me, baby. Ride me like you did my pillow. It still smells like you, y’know? I jerk off with my nose to the pillow. Thinking of you.”

The moment that you sink down on Ten’s cock, you feel euphoric. This is all you’ve been waiting for for weeks now, to have this object of your desire, the heart of your obsession, finally buried inside your cunt. You’ve finally got him right where you want him, and it’s just as good as you’ve imagined. 

Ten isn’t just a passive partner while you’re riding him. He’s not making you do all the work. He’s lifting his hips off the bed, grinding up into you as you roll your hips down. Ten’s touching your breasts, your hips, your ass. He leans up to meet you in a fiery kiss as you boldly take what you want.

“So good, baby,” Ten moans. “Wish I’d have fucked you the first night at the bar, right there on the dance floor when you were dancing on me. And the night you sucked my dick in the bathroom, I was moments from coming over there, fucking you in that stall, but you were sucking me so good, baby. I couldn’t leave your sweet mouth.”

Right now, he puts his hand beneath your chin, slipping his thumb against your bottom lip. 

“Ten,” you moan, sinking towards him.

“Baby.” He echoes your tone.

Ten’s thumb dips between your lips, and you close your lips around the digit, sucking, flicking your tongue over the tip. He must sense you’re getting tired of being on top, or maybe it’s just that with you sucking on his finger, he’s decided to put you in a more submissive role. Either way, Ten suddenly flips you beneath him onto your back. His thumb is still between your lips as he starts moving, rolling his hips roughly, thrusting his cock inside your pussy, each deep thrust, sending ripples of pleasure through you. Electricity zings from your fingertips to your core as you touch Ten, and you cross your ankles at his tailbone, hugging his hips between your thighs.

You’re too far gone to really be able to listen to anything else Ten is saying, but he’s still talking, watching his thumb disappear between your lips, gritting his teeth as he holds back his orgasm. You claw your fingers down his back, cry his name around his thumb, and your orgasm snaps through you like a firecracker.

Ten pulls out at the last second, a broken moan forcing its way from his throat as he cums too, spilling across your belly and pussy before he plunges back in, getting a few last good thrusts in as that last spurts of his cum shoot out, leaving you with such a warm, glowy, fuzzy high.

He untangles himself from your limbs pretty quickly, slipping from the bed, and leaving the bedroom. You can hear him rummaging around in your bathroom, turning on the sink, and then he’s back. Ten gently spreads your legs, dragging one over his lap as he gently takes a damp cloth to wipe away his drying cum, trying to clean you up a little.

“Mm, stop.” You reach down, tugging the cloth from his fingers, tossing it aside so it hits the floor. “I don’t care. I just want you to come back up here. Kiss me again, Ten.”

He’s smiling when he heeds your wish. Ten throws himself down among your pillows, looking perfectly at home, and he wraps his arms around you, drawing you against his chest. 

“They’ll be so proud of me for finally doing this,” Ten sighs. “Mark told me he was starting to get worried that I’d be arrested for stalking. I tried to tell him that you’re worse than me.”

You tilt your head back to look at him. “How am I worse?”

Ten laughs. “You, my little freak, put a tracker on my phone. Don’t try to deny it. I know. You camped out outside my workplace all day at least a few times. You’re a little freak, and I love you for that.”

You preen, tucking yourself back against his chest, sinking in to enjoy your happily ever after moment.

a/n: slight Watch Me vibes (the Mark fic), but I just decided I kinda wanted the twist of Ten being equally as obsessed with her, that he's been stalking her like the whole time too. This one doesn't have the supernatural element that the others this far have had, but I feel like them being stalkers kinda falls under the monsters category of gods & monsters.

I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs are deserving of my eternal gratitude, likes are greatly appreciated, and your thoughts and comments are always welcome !

[adams-angels]

Adam sfw/nsfw hcs? I love your work! Thanks!!

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

SFW

I'm gonna start off strong by saying socks and sandals. Thinks it's great.

Will stop listening when he's losing an argument. Stutters and minces up his words if he gets flustered or too aggravated.

Lute is his best friend

Says he has tons on friend but in reality lute is his only friend

This man thinks he's higher up in the food chain than he actually is. Which then leads to weak apologies from him

Doesn't go anywhere without his mask. Really big believer in that he doesn't like showing his face because both his wife's left him

Still absolutely bitter about that btw

Has an unhealthy coping mechanism when it comes to jealously.

For example, your an angel and some newbie starts talking with you and there's nothing really in it but he opens a portal to hell when your not looking and literally kicks the guy through it before closing the portal.

Or if your a sinner and you're telling him about someone who helped you the other day he will HUNT THEM DOWN next extermination day... If he can wait that long.

Likes getting you lil gifts, key chains, magnets, pins. He'll see a little thing and think that's perfect and wont hesitate buying it for you.

He won't give it to you though. He'll leave it somewhere obvious in his apartment for you to notice and go "oh, that's cute." For him to shrug and say "it's okay. You want it?" It took a while before you actually started accepting gifts this way

In public he will get you the biggest things. Giant teddy bear. New TV. A unicorn. But that's just to show everyone that he spoils you. That no one can treat you as well as him.

Loves lazy days

Also loves it when you preen his wings

Was the kinda guy that didn't have any kind of skin care until he met you and now you're both chilling with facemasks on.

Has panic attacks when he thinks you're going to leave him

When he's not wearing his mask he will not smile. It's really difficult to get him to smile or laugh when he's not wearing a mask.

But he's got the most beautiful smile

You managed you get him to laugh because you fell. What? He's still an asshole.

You couldn't be mad at him. He sounded so happy.

Has dumb pet names for everyone he's close to. Some are cute. Some are absolutely vulger. "Sweetness." "Babe." "Cutie" "cockwarmer." "Adam's dumpster." "Precious."

He's insecure AF baby

Loves hearing you say you love him

Will only tell you he loves you in private.

Would take a very special case for him to say it in public

If you get in a serious argument with him he'll run away in anger. He'll then come back after an hour or so begging you not to leave.

Sorry I really love pathetic Adam. fight me.

Smut below the cut! Minors dni

NSFW

Ik everyone says it's great at sex but I don't think he would be 🤷🏻‍♀️ not at the beginning anyway

I think he's a selfish lover and it takes someone he really cares about to make any changes

Would absolutely finish inside you then fall asleep soz babes

His cock is good tho. Likes it's a biggen. Length and width.

It was probably made to fit perfectly so

At least that's what he says

He won't believe it if you dont orgasm the first time you have sex with him. Everyone else has! Why wouldn't you?!

Well, Adam, they lied, sweetie.

Loves getting his cock sucked.

Asks for it constantly

If he gets in an argument with you he'll probably say "I'm sorry, it's just been so long since I got head."

He loves eating you out. Watching you squirm while his tongue is inside you really gets him going.

Likes you have you sat on his face so he can hold you down

He cried the first time he had sex with you after realising he loves you

Will beg to be loved when he's close to finishing. "Tell me you love me!"

Will get embarrassed after the fact

He was adamant he didn't like you. That you were just hot. But one day found himself jerking to the thought of you and that post nut clarity hit like a freight train.

Loves being praised ofc

Breeding kink. I mean come on. He was made to populate the earth. It was literally his job.

Loves rough sex, being in charge.

Will get possessive during sex

If he's having a bad day he'll be a lot more desperate and a hell of a lot more possessive

"mine" is his favourite word.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[red-hemlock]

"Ohhh I bet you say that to all the villainous vixens who happen across your path, darling." What, to feck-off? At least he was being 'nice' about it. But nose held high, or the mask bit that constituted a 'nose' at any rate, a gloved hand waves-off his sarcastic comment. Like water off a duck's back, sardonicism tended to repel right off of her unless one knew right where to aim... Unfortunately for Batman, it was also built into her very bones and 'fed' by every beat of her own semi-villainous heart.

Clasping her hands together, green eyes can be seen batting behind those lenses, "That's a first, though! A hero telling me I should be out doing my thing, instead of resting on my laurels; and it's the Bat of all people! Do be careful what you 'wish' for." Despite being a great detective, he sure does seem to stumble into her jokes pretty easily, and it really does amuse her to no end. But all of that bratty, sassy posturing seems to finally be melting into something more relaxed; and chuckling, Hemlock's hands unlace so that she can cross her arms.

"I was also kind-of here first. Does that mean you're the one 'bothering' me?"

"...You really don't look that well though, dear. And this isn't me trying to be all 'cute' prodding for an opening. What's wrong with you?"

🦇—-;; Bruce's irritated look doesn't lessen, of course he knows well enough he can just leave. She's not doing anything wrong right now, and being a pest, whilst an annoyance, wasn't a crime. As if wrinkles were much of an issue... he's covered in scars. He's silent though, rather than giving her a response to her mockery, at least at first. He simply rolls his eyes, not at all hiding it.

He knows better than to feed the reaction, she's prodding, she won't provoke him unless she goes for tender spots. Of which he did have recent ones. But for now, he's quiet, only scowling and showing his mild displeasure that she's shooting back at him verbally. His head tilts though just for a moment before he turns a little, not foolish enough to take his eyes off of her. He only ever really turned completely if he was walking away, at this point he was not.

He watches her when her hands go to her hips and he takes note of the look, though is far from intimidated by it. He only tilts his head again, a little more noticeably this time. It's really more of a warning that he only had so much patience. He didn't really want to get into it with her.

"Don't you have anything better to do than bothering me? Like someone who isn't me?" Bruce drawls. He lifts his hand up, fingers pressing against his temple, making sure he presses hard enough he can feel it through the cowl. These damn headaches have been getting worse. "Surely it'd be a better way to occupy your time."

[suzukiblu]

Day two of February’s second weekly WIP behind the cut; “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

The cops get Croc bundled off and head off with him, and Kon waits a minute or so to make sure the guy’s staying secured, then flies towards Pearl and drops down on top of a building halfway there to make a run across the rooftops the rest of the way. There’s nothing weird about somebody running rooftops in Gotham, and most people know better than to worry about who’s up there. Flying–well, if anybody notices that, somebody might actually get interested. Especially if he was doing it Super-fast. 

So rooftops it is, definitely. 

A few rooftops and a fire escape shimmy later, Kon’s landing in the back of an alley across the street from where Alfred’s parked the towncar and ditching the clothes he ganked from the sidewalk in a dumpster to make sure nobody’s gonna be seeing ‘em on any security cameras. His shoes are still in the backseat of the towncar, but what, is he gonna step on a rock or something? 

Or, well, a bunch of broken glass or used needles, given it’s Gotham, but the point stands. None of those options are gonna do anything worse than wreck his socks, and this is definitely not a situation in which he’s gonna worry about the structural integrity of his friggin’ socks. 

He hits the sidewalk and crosses the street after making sure no cars are gonna hit him and fuck themselves up, and Alfred gets out of the car and holds open the door for him. It is both fully unnecessary and also very comfortingly Alfred, even a few realities in the wrong direction. Which is dumb, since Kon doesn’t even know the guy that well personally, just–he knows what Tim thinks of him, and the guy is slightly less disapproving of him than Bruce is, and also at this point he’ll just take what the fuck he can get. 

“Thanks, man,” Kon starts to say to him as he half-ducks to get into the backseat, and then Jon basically tackles him before his foot even hits the floor of the car. Tackles him with very Kryptonian speed and strength, for the record, if downscaled for a ten year-old. “Oof. Shit, what’s wrong, did something–?” 

“That was so cool!” Jon enthuses, and Kon stares down at the kid blankly. Jon’s face is all lit-up and his eyes are very literally sparkling with glee. Kon . . . keeps staring down at him blankly. 

“Uh, what?” he says. 

“You stopped that guy one-handed and scared off all those guys without having to fight any of ‘em and he said it was his town and you said we were an invasive species and you made it sound so much cooler than Mr. Ross did in science!” Jon rattles off excitedly, pulling back to mime . . . well, it looks like he’s imitating the way he just tossed Croc ass-over-teakettle down the street, and also maybe like he’s trying to imitate the too-sharp-for-human grin he’d made a point of wearing even without the teeth for it. Which . . . cannot possibly be a thing, but is apparently being a thing. 

The fuck? 

“Uh,” Kon says again, and Jon just keeps rambling in delight and waving his hands dramatically as he does. 

“–and you threw him so far and totally knocked him out and–” 

Kon sneaks a glance over at Alfred, hoping for, like . . . literally any help whatsoever here. Alfred just raises an eyebrow at him. 

Fuck. 

“–you saved that guy and got disguised so fast and didn’t even–”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 20

part 1 | part 19 | ao3

"Eddie! Hey!" he brightens. Tells himself to take it down a notch; schools his face and voice into something a little less pathetically eager. “What’s up, man?” 

“Not much, dude,” Eddie teases, one dimple popping out. He looks good. Dressed up. Red and black flannel with the top buttons undone; light dusting of chest hair on pale skin, the edge of a tattoo Steve’s never seen. He’s got his black leather jacket and black jeans with no holes and black riding boots on. All he’s missing is a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm.

“What’s with the, uh…?” Steve gestures to his outfit, because he realizes he’s sort of just been staring at the dip of his throat. Eddie raises an eyebrow. Steve clarifies, “You got a date or something?” 

“Oh, this?” Eddie laughs. “Uh, no. Nope. Can’t say that I do.”

He hops up backward onto the counter, his ass right next to Steve’s elbow, legs dangling over the edge, and he ignores Steve’s protests to get down from there as he leans in to ask in a mischievous hush, “Can you keep a secret?” 

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, twists into a bitter twinge of nerves. He can keep a lot of secrets. Maybe he learned that from his dad.

“Yeah…?” He leans in on his elbows.

Eddie moves in closer still, cups his hand around his mouth and whispers, “I totally forgot to do laundry last week.” 

Oh, my god. “You’re an idiot,” Steve laughs. “That’s your big confession?” 

Eddie’s smile widens. “Yeah. I got distracted with rehearsals. This was the only clean shit I had left.” He kicks one leg out straight to show off his boot. “I’m only wearing these so you can’t tell I don’t have socks on.”

“Gross!” Steve laughs harder and shoves at Eddie, who tumbles theatrically over the edge of the counter, flinging himself to the ground and rolling onto his back so he can fake a couple death spasms and then lie there with his tongue lolling out of his mouth like a fucking weirdo. “You’re so weird.” 

“This night sucked before I showed up, and you know it,” Eddie says from the floor. He opens one eye to wink at Steve, then he gives one final death twitch and drops the act, popping back up to mirror Steve’s pose, elbows propped on the counter between them. 

Steve’s arm hair stands on end. “How was your show, anyway?” 

“Oh, it was greeeat,” Eddie says. “Drunk assholes yelling slurs at me, Gareth barfing in the bushes. Standard Hideout gig.”

"Was someone harassing you?" Steve frowns. He knows the Hideout's a shithole — a ‘dependable dumpster fire where we practice for the gigs that actually pay us,’ as Eddie had put it — but he thought the people there were, like, accepting, or whatever.

Surely Eddie's style isn't any more out there than the rest of the regulars.

"Holster your eyebrows," Eddie sighs, "it was fine. Really.” 

“Holster my— dude, what?”

“Your eyebrows,” he repeats. He reaches out with the tip of his pointer finger and gently prods the space between them. “At ease, gentlemen.”

“So weird,” Steve says again. He rolls his eyes and swats Eddie’s hand away, and Eddie just laughs and says ‘There we go!’ because his antics actually did get Steve to unfurrow his face. Little bastard. “Were you gonna rent something, or…?”

“Hell no, my late fees are fucking ridic—”

Eddie cuts himself off, his eyes darting over Steve’s shoulder.

He goes skittish all of a sudden, starts backing toward the exit, stammering, “Ridiculously non-existent. Is, uh, is what I was gonna say. Obviously. Um. Right.” 

His back hits the front door, the bell jangling overhead, and before Steve gets a chance to ask what the hell his problem is now, Eddie starts rambling at triple speed that “Dustin wanted me to check in on you and now I have checked in on you so okay-gotta-go-bye” and practically sprints out of the store.

Doesn’t even look back to give Steve a parting wave. 

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

“What. the fuck…” Steve jumps a foot in the air at the sound of Robin’s voice. He whips around to look at her; realizes she must have been what spooked Eddie. Her nose and cheeks are bright red from the cold, her eyes bugging out of her head, and her jaw is halfway to the floor as she gapes at him, “...was that?”

—

part 21

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