#*i am shot and dragged off stage*

[contrast-paradox]

Listen, they need all of those legs so there’s an equal number of knees for hands to be rested upon with their boyf-

How Tall is Twitch, and how much of that is Zee Legs?

they are 6'2", and judging by the current inventory

i'd say about 76% zee legs, approximately

(but i'm no zee leg scientist, so don't take my word for it)

[kataraavatara]

i was expecting nesta to be a real bitch going into acotar because of how the fandom reacts to her but it’s really 20% at most being a bitch unprovoked, 50% being a bitch provoked, and the rest of the time she says something fairly neutral but everyone takes it as an insult because she uses a slightly flat tone.

[rainbowcaleb]

Does the moon have a moon Costco

[aquitainequeen]

Here I am, hours later, still crying about Furiosa and Praetorian Jack. George Miller, Nico Lathouris, Anya Taylor-Joy and Tom Burke are geniuses. They completely sold me on just how much these characters loved each other.

Furiosa coming out of a nightmare, wielding a knife, to be caught by Jack. He doesn’t say it’s all right or that she’s safe, she doesn’t say it was just a bad dream. They don’t say anything. Jack eases her back down to her cot and they settle down, aware of each other.

Jack stitching up Furiosa’s shoulder in a hidden spot in the Citadel, Furiosa showing Jack the peach seed that she’s kept hidden in her hair for so long, proving that the Green Place is out there, asking him to come with her, pressing her forehead to his while cupping the back of his head, showing him her love in the manner of her people, and him returning the gesture. After fifteen years, she’s finally going home, and he’s coming with her.

And then...

Spoilers beyond here!!!

And then:

The battle of the Bullet Farm, which is where the strength and force of their love really started to batter me. Furiosa manages to avoid the ambush and get out of the Farm before the gate closes, and Jack could easily have slipped through the gate to join her, but he sees the enemy forces mustering and knows they’ll quickly be hunted down if there's nothing to stop their pursuers. He shoots off a green flare that clearly tells Furiosa to abandon him and get the hell out of there, intending to sacrifice himself so that she has a chance to escape and set off for the Green Place. Furiosa does drive off, but gets maybe five metres before she decides ‘fuck this’ and goes back in to try and save him. And she saves him from his pursuers and she saves him from falling to his death, and they get to their escape vehicle and drive off, with nary a word spoken or exchanged until they’re on the flat and heading for freedom. And even then, all that’s mentioned is what direction they should take to reach the Green Place. That's it. They don’t need anything else. They survived, they got out, they're together, they’re going to be all right.

And they almost make it. They almost get away.

When they’re captured by Dementus and forced onto their knees, there’s no special close up on them; mostly they’re on the edge of the shot while Dementus is ranting centre stage or screaming into their faces. They pay no heed to him. That love infuriates Dementus. He shrieks, he tears at them, but he can’t break them. He doesn’t matter. What matters is that they spend their last moments touching each other, leaning into each other, pressing their foreheads together, breathing deep, loving each other.

There are no parting words between Furiosa and Jack, no declarations or promises or screams of despair, but it hit me so hard and cut so deep that the second to last time we see Jack’s face, he’s craning desperately to see what’s happening to Furiosa, trying to get one final precious glimpse of her, before he’s quite literally dragged to his awful death.

We don’t see Furiosa’s reaction to her torture on multiple fronts, as she is strung up by her maimed arm and forced to watch Jack die. We’ve seen her scream and weep for her mother, but this moment is hers alone. It’s not for us.

How fitting it is that Jack saves Furiosa one last time, as his execution distracts Dementus and his crew from noticing that Furiosa has cut off her own arm to escape.

The last time we see Jack’s face is in Furiosa’s last nightmare.

Furiosa doesn’t mention Jack in her final showdown with Dementus, when she screams about her mother and her stolen childhood. But from what’s shown to us, I think that the spot in the Citadel when she imprisons Dementus and grows the peach tree in the midst of his emaciated, maggot-ridden body…is the same place where Jack stitched up her wounded shoulder, where she showed him the peach seed, where she asked him to come with her to the Green Place and he accepted, where she showed him her love in the manner of her people, where they embraced. Where she avenged herself and Jack, upon the man who destroyed their lives.

Where Furiosa now plucks the first fruit of the tree to bring to the Five Wives, whom she will bring with her to the Green Place.   

[kataraavatara]

nesta will literally just ask a question and the people around her will be like “hm. is this meant to be an INSULT.”

okay but nesta asking this because she grew up mortal where women are married off young and just have babies and tea parties - but mor acting like it's a deadly insult

then when they return from the battle in summer court and mor still has a stick up her ass

[defmaybe]

Noona from the Bar

IVE's Kim Gaeul x Male Reader

5.2k words

A/N: Ahh, my debut! Thanks to @msafterhours and @i-am-lifeform24 for editing and beta-reading! And thanks to all the kind writers and fellow readers who have been nothing but supportive of me. I know my skills aren’t really up to the task yet (I have a Minji-Haewon 15k draft with broken grammar sitting lol), but I’ll seek my way through it. Thanks for reading!

—

It’s Friday night. The sound of the electronic beats echo throughout the bar, accompanied with the shaking bass. Customers are cramped into small tables, shuffling together to accommodate the enormous crowd. And there you are, sitting in front of the vacant stage, which, to your knowledge, is usually reserved for the band to play, with the Nordic-esque climate sending shivers through your body.

Leehan and Sungho dragged you with a few other guys here after your sophomore finals. You wouldn’t say that it’s a chore, but there are definitely better things to do than get drunk. These two are the most outgoing guys of your diverse group. Meanwhile, you aren’t much of a social butterfly, preferring the more busy student council member life. Sitting in between them, you can only scroll through your phone to pass the time.

“To our grades!” Sungho raises his glass and looks around, inviting you and the other friends to join him.

“To our grades,” you say, barely able to hear your own voice before clinking your glass with others.

You chug half your beer, ready for a long night, your friends laughing as they do the same.

Sungho sighs, putting down his drink, and saying, “Thanks to Seokjin, or we wouldn’t have today, drinking beers and listening to music!”

All eyes on your table turns to Seokjin, the kind, quiet nerd of your group. “It’s nothing really, you’re my friends, and—”

“To Seokjin!” Leehan puts his glass up for another toast, while Seokjin scans around him, seeing all his friends doing the same, smiling. 

“Thanks, guys.” Seokjin says, as he raises his glass for a toast with yours.

—

As the night goes on, the music shows no sign of calming down. NewJeans booms through the speakers, interspersed with remixes of local songs. Alcohol has started to take hold of you, plaguing your inhibition with sharp tingles as you chug your glass away.

“Shit, I have to go to the bathroom,” Leehan suddenly says.

“I’m coming with you,” Namjoon follows. “Anyone else?”

Everyone around the table stands up except for you, and you watch as they shoot you apologetic glances. “Watch the table for us!” Sungho shouts at you, his voice struggling to carry through the loud music. “Use your student committee power to protect this table or whatever.”

“Fine, and I’m only a secretary, by the way. Don’t be gone for too long.” You smile, waving to your friends as they leave one by one. 

“I think Leehan is going to stay there for quite a while. I saw him heaving a bit earlier,” Seokjin sighs, worried.

Your eyes widen. “Well, I’ll wait for you guys here. Take your time,” you assure Seokjin, with him gesturing a thanks with a grateful smile. 

—

On the other side of the bar, another group revels as their finals come to an end.

“Jiwon, pass me the liquor, please,” Gaeul asks.

Jiwon holds the half-full rum bottle. “Gaeul, this is your fourth glass of the night. Are you sure you wanna drink more?”

Gaeul scoffs, voice already slurring. “Yeah, why not?” 

“Well, the last time this happened, I was holding your head above my toilet by the sixth shot,” Yujin adds.

“It will be different this time, come on~” Gaeul pleads, sulking in her chair, matched by her descending tone.

“Fine,” Jiwon huffs, finally passing the rum to Gaeul. “I’m not holding your hair again, though,” she pouts, with Yujin nodding in agreement.

“Thanks!” Gaeul pours the drink into her ice-filled glass before topping the golden liquor with cola. She glances around her table. “I promise, I’ll be the one who holds Wonyoung—,” her stream of thoughts is cut off, as she catches your presence not too far from her, alone, sliding one video after another, gleaming her with flame.

Yujin follows her sight to you. “Well, well, another freshman, huh?” She scoffs.

“Oh, come on, I never get to do this. God, Jiwon brought like three guys to her place in the same month before,” Gaeul deflects.

“Hey!” Jiwon reaches to slap her hand. “You say that like it’s an insult.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Gaeul pouts, making Jiwon roll her eyes, smiling.

“If you want him, then go get him!” Wonyoung adds. “We may not have another chance in our senior year. They are going to kill us with those goddamn projects.” She takes a sip from her glass and contorts her face after that.

“You know men don’t like older women, right?” Gaeul turns her head back onto Wonyoung, who’s still trying to make peace with the content of her glass. “He’d say no.”

Yujin laughs, “That attitude is why you’ve brought no one back to your place!” She pushes Gaeul’s drink into its owner’s hand, pointing at her face. 

“Don’t live to regret this.”

Gaeul taps the table with her fingers rapidly, contemplating her approach. Her friends watch her hesitation with anticipation, until Gaeul retorts, “Alright, fine. If that’ll make you guys happy,” before getting up from her chair and walking towards you, glancing back to see her peers watch the scene unfold from afar.

—

It has been twenty minutes since your friends left. You are caught under the crushing weight of the foreign sounds and solitude among the crowd. Leehan is probably having his face in the toilet. And being the good friend you are, you bring up your phone to text Seokjin to ask about the situation.

Before you hit send, a sound comes from your right, catching your attention.

“Hi!”

You turn to see a woman with short, raven black hair standing before you. Her hand is holding a glass of what your best guess seems to be cola. Her nails are cut short and plain. She’s wearing a black cardigan that somehow shows off her lean curves. Her jeans don't make it even easier for you, leaving you with little to imagine.

“Is this seat taken?” she asks, bending down to hover her glass above Sungho’s seat.

“Hey!” You greet her. “Yeah, it’s taken. I’m sorry about that.” You plant your hand on the vacant chair, inadvertently touching her long fingers, eliciting a giggle from her.

“Shit, sorry! …Again.” You pull your hand back as you feel her warm skin. You can feel a small fire in your cheeks.

Gaeul lifts her glass to cover herself laughing. “Haha, it’s fine. Still, are your friends coming back soon? I’m kinda looking for… company tonight.”

It’s quite rare to find someone approaching you, let alone stating their romantic needs this clearly. Yet, it’s a bar after all; alcohol strips people’s inhibitions off here. And who are you to say no to this beautiful woman?

“Oh, sure! They are probably taking care of my friend in the toilet. Go ahead.” You gesture at her to sit down, as she moves the chair a little to comply.

“I’m Gaeul, by the way.” She offers you a handshake, smiling, to which you happily accept. Unlike yours, her hand is silky soft, 

“Hi, Gaeul. I’m from engineering, civil. What do you study?” You ask.

“Architecture! I’m just beside you, haha,” as she pulls her hand back and placing her glass on your table. The architecture faculty is bordering your engineering main building, and you’ve walked past it often during lunchtime.

“Have I met you before?” You inquire, squinting your eyes on you to examine her shadowed features.

“I don’t think so. I would have remembered you with that face.” Gaeul playfully points at your face, chuckling.

You chuckle along to hide the fact that she’s really influencing you with such an irresistible charm. “Thanks, I guess.”

“What year are you in?” Gaeul asks. “I’ve recently finished my junior finals. I made a lot of home models this year.” She rolls her eyes and sighs while recounting her experience.

“You are a year above me. I’m just a sophomore.” You answer.

“So, I’m your noona, right?” She giggles, tapping your shoulder softly with her finger.

“Yes, Gaeul noona,” you pout, placing your hands on your thighs.

Gaeul giggles, “No need, haha. Just Gaeul is fine, really.”

“Alright, Gaeul.” You smile along with her.

The night with Gaeul advances, while you quickly forget about your friends taking care of Leehan. You learn about her aspirations of being an architect, and how she also hates drawing to death. 

“And you want to become an architect?” you ask, baffled in such contradiction.

“Yeah, haha, I’ve always loved elegant buildings, and I really want to create them myself as I grow up.” Gaeul smiles, gladly sharing her wishes. 

She continues, “But when it comes to drawing, I’ve always had the feeling of having to perfect them. And that eats up a lot of my energy, really.”

“So, you’re a perfectionist?” you continue to shoot questions at her, giggling.

Gaeul laughs. “You can say that.”

She then tells you about the pets at her home, as she learns about your ambitions. And you feel like the conversation is sparking everywhere; it flows like the alcohol in your blood, suppressing your shyness just for her.

—

“Yeah! I just got my driver’s license a few months ago.” The clock strikes almost ten, over half an hour after your first words with her, and the topic is lingering on driving at the moment.

Gaeul takes a deep breath before gaining the courage to ask. “Hey, do you want to go back to my place?”

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, talking in here doesn’t give us much privacy.” Gaeul seems to be going all-in here.

Unable to bother yourself under these waves of songs you can’t sing along to anymore, you answer in a quickfire, “Sure! Where do you live, though?”

Gaeul points her thumb behind her, towards the outside. “Just across this bar. I usually have my friends crashing for the night if they can’t walk to their dorms.”

“Lead the way, then.”

—

“Well, show’s over, girls,” Jiwon huffs, seeing Gaeul guiding you out of the bar. “It’s the three of us now. Anyone you guys are eyeing on?”

Yujin and Wonyoung shrug. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night first,” Wonyoung says.

“Yeah.” Yujin adds and signals a toast, as Jiwon and Wonyoung join her.

—

Gaeul unlocks the door to her room before leading you inside. Her room is pretty tidy, aside from the lump of unfolded clothes on her bed on the left, covered by brown bedsheets. She has a few stuffed animals sitting at the top of it: some Care Bears, a cylinder piggy doll, with Shaun the Sheep gracefully sitting in the middle, and a few more aquatic animals.

“I’m saving up my money to buy my fifth Care Bear,” Gaeul says with a smile, determination sparks in her eyes.

On the opposite side, there’s a drawing table with a few sketches of buildings, showcasing her architecture works. You close the door and lock it for her.

Noticing the mess, she darts toward the bed. “It’s a little messy, sorry,” she says, picking up the pile before cramming it inside her closet. “I didn’t have time to take care of it when I was coming out.”

“I don’t mind, really.” You smile, understanding her struggle of doing laundry.

Gaeul smiles back as she shuts her closet door. “Where were we again?” she leans against it, giving you a questioning look.

“I—,” you pause, further taking in the atmosphere of her room. You find a few movie posters on her wall above the bed: Thirteen, Little Women, and After Hours are the ones standing out. She also has her Jubilee vinyl on display just by her table.

“So, you like Japanese Breakfast?” you ask, before she follows your gaze onto the album. You’ve never expected someone you find at a bar to listen to Michelle Zauner’s band, to be honest.

“Yeah, it was my sister’s before she moved out,” Gaeul answers. “But the album itself is pretty good. I pick it up now and then to let it loop while I’m drawing.”

“I’ve heard about its quality.” You tap your fingers on your thighs, eyes darting everywhere except onto her.

Gaeul taps her chin in a staccato rhythm; she seems as unsure of her next action as you do. The humming of the air conditioner lulls from behind her. She ponders for a while, before stepping towards you.

“You know the implications, right?”

And that’s it; the way she says ‘right’ tingles you in a peculiar way. Gaeul looks into your eyes as she does, eliciting an indescribable feeling inside you. Your hands shake as she closes her distance to the point where you can feel her breathing.

“May I?” she asks, lips just inches away from yours.

“S—sure,” you stutter out in front of this gorgeous woman.

Without further ado, Gaeul kisses you ardently. Her tongue doesn’t let your mouth simply rest on hers, as she invades your cavern to display the passion she has been holding. She cups your cheeks so that she can taste you more thoroughly. You moan at such a confident act right into her mouth, before you let your tongue wrestle with hers.

As the kiss deepens, Gaeul draws her hand down your neck, and you shudder in response. “Fuck, noona,” you utter through the connected lips. Your hands cup her face, letting her take control. And without initiation from you, her fingers sliding down your abdomen seem to invite you to engage with her under the same depravity. Yet, your hands linger on her facial features.

Soon, Gaeul’s hand works its way to your crotch, stroking your erect length through the pants. “Wow, all excited for me, huh?” she says, suppressed under the kiss, and you moan through the gaps, having your shaft fondled.

Gaeul breaks off from the torrid act, but her lips leave just a little distance from yours. However, it’s far enough to keep you wanting her more. She lifts her arms to wrap around your neck. “I want to ask you something.” She says in a whisper while looking into your eyes; her deep voice shakes you.

“Go ahead.”

Gaeul clicks her tongue a few times, glancing at the wall before asking. 

“Are you comfortable calling me noona again? I know I told you back in the bar to drop it, but seeing you being all obedient because of me is a bit of a…” She bites her lip as if to resist the inevitable. “…turn on.” She grins, unsure, not even believing the words coming out of her mouth.

You chuckle before answering without another hesitation. “Sure, Gaeul noona.”

Gaeul smiles. “Alright, baby boy.” She slides her hands down to work on your top button. “Let’s go to our main course.”

You quickly unbutton your shirt upward to meet her trembling hands. And quickly, your shirt is up for Gaeul to toss it away into the void. She runs her right hand down your chest. “You take care of yourself well, don’t you?” As her fingers tap on your flat stomach, hitching your breath.

“C—Cardio from time to time, noona.” You stutter out; fuck, this woman is burning your skin.

“Good for you.” She says in a deep tone, while her right hand is still feeling your midriff.

“Now, leaving you like this wouldn’t be… fair, right? Bare for me to—” The next word cut short for her to plant her lips on your nipple, tasting your body and eliciting a moan from you.

“Noona…” You are now lost in the pleasure; jolts after jolts from her lips rush through your body, making you shudder. Her saliva coats your nipple, and you lock your hand behind your noona’s head to keep yourself from falling over.

Gaeul keeps switching her suction on your peaks before she pushes you onto her bed. “I was talking about fairness, right?” She says with her fingers tilting your head down on your chin a little to meet her eyes. Her legs are straddling yours, keeping you in place.

“Y—Yes, noona,” you speak out.

“So, since you are half naked… under me.” She traces a line down your abdomen, igniting a fire in its wake. “You get to choose which half of me… that you want to see.”

You gulp, eyes wide. Fuck, this woman is really having her way with you now, and there’s nothing you can do to resist her seductive endeavor. Your mind goes into overdrive with the choices: top or bottom, top or bottom, top or—

“Every second counts, my baby boy.” Gaeul taps her bare wrist, grinning.

You swallow another gulp. “Your pick, n—noona.”

Gaeul giggles. “Well, since I’m a believer in justice…” She moves her hands to the top button of her black cardigan, ready to unlock it. “Say please, baby,” she says with her sultry voice.

“Please, noona.” You succumb to her domination. As Gaeul unlocks the first button, putting her soft cleavage into view.

“Please what, baby boy?” She continues her seduction; her hands are toying with the second button now. She pulls the neckline down to reveal the strings of her bra and the full view of the valley between her mounds.

“Please take your top off, noona,” you plead.

Giggling, “Alright, baby boy.” Gaeul quickly unbuttons the remaining locks, as her unending tease also seems to affect herself. Her toned midriff quickly reveals itself to you, decorated by the sky blue laced bra above, sending you further into a spiral.

Slowly, she strips herself off of her cardigan, your tongue becomes drawn to the thin string that holds two sides of the chest cover together. You can taste the hints of her salty sweat absorbed by the cloth.

“Fuck,” Gaeul whimpers. “S—So needy, aren’t you?” She tosses the outer garment away before pressing your head onto her. Being pushed even more, you map a straight line up the hollow of her chest with your tongue, causing her to moan out.

“Alright, I—I get it, you’re a—a tits person,” Gaeul cries out, quickly retreating her hands to unclasp the back of her remaining top attire. “This doesn’t mean y—you have p—power over me or anything, though.”

“Yes, noona,” you say through your licks, her bra falls off right between you two. As you pull yourself back to take a break from your appetizer, you are given the heavenly sight of her succulent tits. They are small, but you’ve never been the one to care, anyway. Her nipples are already erect, aroused as she expects the divine rapture from no one but you.

“You like the view, baby boy?” Gaeul chuckles at the sight of you salivating in front of her perky mounds. 

As an answer, you dive in to savor her excited brown nubs. There’s no particular taste to them, yet you’re being commanded by these peaks to satisfy her overflowing lust, making her a writhing mess right before you.

“God, fuck!” Gaeul moans out. You remain fixated on her tits, sucking on them as if your life is hanging on the strings of her cries. And to further stimulate her, you use your hand to caress the freed side of her frame. You roam from her shoulder to the waistline, squeezing her chest with each passing.

Gaeul, again, presses you onto her soft chest, yet she’s unable to let herself being satisfied just on the outside anymore.

“F—Fuck, shall we go to the m—main course, baby boy?” her words come out ragged; she can’t further shackle herself from the peak of intimacy.

You remove yourself from her nubs. “Yes, please, noona.” Gaeul pushes you down onto her bed, signaling you to unzip your pants while she does so. And within a blink, your erect cock and her soaked cunt are just a breath away from each other. She seems to be an all-natural girl too, choosing to let her hair grow above the canal, and that just makes her even more mouthwatering.

Still, the sex education lessons hold you back on the ground. “Do you need protection?” you ask, concerned about the prospect of unwanted consequences.

“I have my contingency plans, baby,” she huffs with a smile as she hovers her sex just above your shaft now, ready for the ride of her life.

With no words, you nod, and she slowly sinks herself onto your rod. You cry out as your tip gradually disappears into her. You pull your head back under the overwhelming sensations. “Fuck,” and you can do nothing but whimper.

“D—Do I feel good on top of you?” Gaeul asks, voice and her body shuddering in the descent. You are halfway inside her now. Her hands are roaming on your writhing frame, determined to push you off the edge even faster.

“Yes, fuck, noona. You feel so fucking good.” You’re enamored by the throes of pleasure surrounding your body. She slowly impales herself down to the hilt, fully coating your cock with her nectar.

“Fuck!” Gaeul’s tone becomes a scream now. She bends herself back, showing her fragile frame. Traces of ribs are visible under the room light, and her immaculate chest stretches for you to view.

Gaeul remains in the position for a while, before she drags her wet cunt off of you, just barely seeing your tip, grazing your dick with such an unbearable pleasure. Your length now glistens with her honey, but the shackling gratification lets you register only her up and down motion. And as she slams down, you can do nothing but moan under such divine elation.

Wet squelches and moans echo throughout the room, as Gaeul picks up her pace to quicken this perversion. She cries out in every movement, and you echo out every moan. Her short hair becomes really helpful in situations like this, since, with each bounce, they don’t seem to cover her face as much as it should. And you’re one lucky man to see her all invested in the depravity - every contorted face, every line drawn on your abdomen with her hands, and God, how her moan is a symphony you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

Inevitably, with each of her bounce, it drives you toward the precipice. Her angelic moans and the bouncing chest ramp you up closer to paradise. The sight of her riding you - mouth agape, perky tits bouncing, hands shuffling her strands to make sense of the pleasure, creating such an immaculate image - with the sensations around your cock is just unyielding.

“N—Noona, I’m gonna cum, slow down,” you plead, and Gaeul looks down at you, hands still locked in her olive hair. Her breaths become ragged, and her whimpers seem to scale up with each insertion.

“Me too, baby boy, me too,” Gaeul cries out. “Cum with me.” 

She keeps the moderate tempo she has been putting on you. Her bare, untrimmed, drenched cunt rams your cock with steady speed to keep your orgasms alight. Sounds of fleshes crashing into each other; an unyielding amount of Gaeul’s honey is mixing with the notes that come out of her gorgeous lips, creating a concoction that sends you into ecstasy.

And with one last thrust, along with you, Gaeul becomes a squirming wreck. With eyes fluttering, delectable chest heaving, wailing such a symphony that only a deity can sing. Her entire frame shakes with exaltation. You cry from the depths of your lungs, and the knot in your stomach becomes undone. Your cock shoots spurts of cum inside her, as Gaeul’s delicate cunt gushes out torrents of clear juice onto your crotch.

With each twitch of your length, they serve the purpose of unloading into her womb to the brim, and they shake you to sing out such a beautiful melody, joining Gaeul into composing an amorous masterpiece. Your nectar finds its way out to concoct with hers, pooling on your crotch. It’s a breathtaking sight, seeing her undone like this - juice spilled, wails unrestrained, walls contracting to drain you dry.

Gaeul’s climax subsides; her moans show signs of her normal voice again. “G–Good job, baby boy,” she chuckles through her whimpers. Her pace decreases, and you’re thankful that she doesn’t ride your consciousness out.

“You’re getting sensitive, right?” She brings her motion to a stop, but still enveloping your length within her needy core. It’s warm; she’s warm.

“Yeah, noona. You can–,” you stop halfway for a few breathers. “You can stay like this, to be honest.”

“Oh, my poor baby boy~,” Gaeul laughs. “We can stay like this if you really want it.” Her voice still carries hints of intoxication, yet you can’t deny that the potential of it being genuine affection entices you. “I’ll have to go to the bathroom first, though. I can’t sleep with our cum being everywhere like this.”

She bends down to give you a peck on your forehead, before slowly, agonizingly, pulling herself off of you. And doesn’t that make you whimper out, as your cock is still sensitive from shooting spurts of your seed inside her dainty cunt? The feeling of unloading still lingers in your filthy mind.

Maybe it’s a mix of all the sensations you’ve ever felt - mostly pleasure with pain. You moan out as she chuckles at the sight of you crumbling under her final touch. “Alright, baby boy, wanna take a shower?” Gaeul gets up from the bed before sauntering towards the bathroom. “Maybe we can have another round~,” she winks across her shoulder, before going into the shower.

“I’ll be there, noona,” you reply, as you collect your inhibition enough to take another shot of intimacy with her under the running water.

—

Sunlight peeks through the curtains, waking you up after the rough night, naked. Last night’s debauchery remains clear in your head, as the images of Gaeul commanding you around are still in high definition. You look around the room to catch your noona examining the contents of her fridge, bending over to show you her bare, plump ass, only slightly covered by her baby blue shirt.

“Up already, sleepyhead?” She notices you through the gap between her arm and the single garment on her. “I have some banana cake left, not expired yet,” she says before picking it up and surveys the package. “Yeah, a day left. You want one?”

“How much is it? Can you send me your QR code after this, noona?” The memory of you acting all-obedient shows up again, and you can only cover your mouth after that. 

“No need, ‘baby boy’,” Gaeul chuckles, pulling up an air quote, mocking the tone she used last night. “Consider this as part of the one-night plan.”

God, she looks flawless under this morning’s light. The way her short hair is messy; the tired eyes, and that pair of legs - the pair you wish to be caught between - makes you want to spend another day with her. 

“Can I extend my subscription?” you utter out involuntarily. The alcohol hasn’t returned your reticence yet, perhaps.

Gaeul considers your proposal for a while, nibbling her chin with her free hand, while tapping her feet with the cake still in the other hand. 

“Well, I’m not sure, really,” she says. “I have only known you for barely half a day, with the help of alcohol.”

“I know, Gaeul,” you groan. “But like, I want to know you more.”

“I don’t know.” She chuckles as she closes the distance between you two. 

Gaeul continues her interrogation, “do you, really?” Her bare, untrimmed pussy comes in at your face level. She changes her motion to crossing her legs forward, slowly, covering the lower part of her sex as she gets right in front of your eyes.

You drool at the sight, tranced, as your morning wood is twitching. Your tongue involuntarily sticks out, aimed at her nub, and you are magnetized to her cunt again. You are so ready to please your noona again, making her a drenched disarray before you, before Gaeul breaks your train of desire, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up to watch her smile.

“Alright, I believe you now.” She simpers with your tongue still out. “I’ll give you my Instagram before you leave.”

You sign an okay to her, as you retreat your tongue back into your mouth.

“Good boy,” Gaeul laughs. “Here, your breakfast.”

You take the banana cake from her. “Thanks, noona.”

“I’ll give you more than this the next time, if you can make me fancy you.” She lets go of you before climbing onto her bed to the other side, giving you a view of her luscious cheeks once more. She bends down to pick up your discarded, now-creased clothes, involuntarily (or not) putting her sex into display, and you can do nothing but let your length twitch at the sight.

You gulp at the sight, mustering the courage to ask out, “Really?”

She sits back up after her teasing act, legs crossed, but you can still see flashes of her. Gaeul ponders for a while, tapping her chin in the same veins she did before the explicit scene of you two.

“Definitely, maybe.” She laughs again, shooting the garments at you, and you can only join along with her.

—

As you walk back to your dorm, your phone suddenly rings. You pick up the phone, eyes widen. It’s Sungho, the ‘friend’ you left with no trace for him last night.

“Shit.” You utter before accepting the call.

“Where the fuck have you been last night, bro?” His breath is coming in shorts. “We were worried about you. We came back around ten—”

“I was with a woman; her room is just across the bar. I’m fine, Sungho,” you reply.

“Oh.” Sungho pauses. “Oh damn. Wow.” He’s left speechless for a few seconds.

“Yeah, and we—, uh—” You stop, contemplating on whether to tell him.

“No need, bro.” You can hear Sungho chuckling through your phone. “Who’s the lucky woman who takes your virginity, huh?”

“Architecture,” you play coy, withholding Gaeul’s identity. “And we trade each other’s contact just this morning.”

“Goddamn, you had been inside her, and you just asked for her contact after that? Fucking hell, man.” Sungho laughs again. “Well, we’re happy that you didn’t lose an arm or anything, bro.”

You smile before remembering about your sick friend. “Oh, what about Leehan? How’s he now?”

“Fine, he’s still sleeping on my bed,” Sungho affirms. 

You smile, and reply, “Alright, good, thanks for calling.”

“No problem, see ya!” Sungho says.

“See ya.” And you hang up the phone.

On the way back, the prospect of building your relationship with Gaeul reels in your mind. The probability of you two working remains shaky. Emotions might take hold of only one of you, dragging its victim into an unbearable sorrow. What if a crush turns into a craving? Either way, the shared moment of your bodies clashing into each other is going to be etched into you, and, hopefully, her.

And as you unlock the door, a notification pops up on your phone, and it reads as:

actualgaeul started following you.

—

[emo-batboy]

Battinson Guest Starring on TV Shows

SO

For someone who holds the title of Richest Man in the World, Bruce doesn’t do a lot of traveling.

Which is to say he does a LOT of traveling, but he always tries to find a way out of it.

(Are there bat-related reasons for this? Are there people-related reasons for this? Are there anxiety-related reasons for this? Who knows?)

But partners and sponsors aren’t always going to tolerate his hermit-like tendencies. So once every month or so, Alfred wrangles Bruce into a private jet and sends him off to who knows where so he can represent the company.

Usually, it’s somewhere close on the East Coast, maybe it’s across the pond, even Asia isn’t off the table, but the rarest place to spot Bruce Wayne is actually the West Coast of the US.

One day, it is announced that Bruce Wayne will be spending two (count ‘em, 2) consecutive weeks in California with his kids for some grand business convention.

The West Coast media goes feral with the news, ESPECIALLY interviewers. And because Bruce kicks up such a fuss this time, Alfred has the gall to sign him up for FOUR TV appearances.

Here are these appearances :)

RuPaul’s Drag Race

Drag Queens, especially Drag Race all-stars, contribute to a wide variety of charities

So on a new episode, the queens are challenged to design and shoot a promotional ad for their own charity

And who better to act as a guest judge for this episode than the show’s largest benefactor, CEO of the Wayne Foundation, Bruce Wayne?!

Physically? He’s older than half of the contestants. But spiritually? He screams Baby Gay.

Fifteen minutes into the episode, Bruce is welcomed into the werkroom where he gives them pointers on their campaign. He’s in his cute little three-piece suit (Alfred’s idea) with the intention of looking put-together and knowledgeable. But that’s not the only outcome.

They all flirt with him. Everyone, single or taken. The confessionals are so thirsty.

“He’s lucky the cameras are on. Otherwise, I’d eat him up faster than a bachelorette party in a buffet line.”

“My celebrity crush is talking to me, and all I can focus on are his gorgeous eyes. How am I supposed to know what he's saying?”

Of course, they shoot their shot, but most of it is joking since they don't know he's bi yet.

“Are you single, honey?” Bruce blushes. “It’s complicated.” “Well, I’ll make it simple for you.”

We all know this man can't handle being flirted with. We saw how he froze when Selina did it. It’s like he mentally bluescreens when someone calls him a pet name.

Only THEN do they learn he's bi

One of the queens jokingly asks him, “Ever been with a man before?” thinking it would be a firm no, but Bruce says, “Actually, yes.” “Oh shit, really?” And to Bruce’s embarrassment, the whole room hears him.

The flirting is thus taken up a notch.

On the main stage, Bruce has a lot of great constructive criticism. He talks about how to find the right audience, the importance of a good slogan, and even goes on a little rant about logo design.

(You cannot convince me that Bruce hasn’t hyperfixated on the business of charity work before. Or the science of marketing. They’re his favorite business topics.)

After about three minutes of him complimenting one contestant for their Drag Library pitch, he stops himself mid-sentence and says, “Oh sorry, am I talking too much?” “No, please! Keep talking, sweetheart.” Bruce covers his face to hide his blush. “Why is everyone flirting with me?” “Baby, have you seen yourself?”

While the judges deliberate, RuPaul mentions Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve, and Talent. Bruce nods along for a while then suddenly just blurts out, “Wait, does it spell ****?”

The judges pause then burst out laughing. “Oh no, we’ve traumatized him!" Bruce is blushing up a storm. “I just never thought about it like that!” “Sweet, innocent Bruce. We’re so sorry.”

It’s later revealed that Bruce offered to help some of the queens launch their charity projects through the Wayne Foundation.

It’s v cute 🥰

Nailed It!

I love Nicole Byer.

She is Mother.

In all seriousness, she’s so fucking funny and she’s personable enough to pull Bruce out of his shell a bit.

The theme for this episode is Found Family. Three pairs of family members compete together—a gay father and his adopted son, an aunt who adopted her niece, and a stepfather and stepdaughter.

Because Bruce Wayne famously adopted two children, he is invited to guest judge.

So Nicole opens the episode with a zinger, the contestants are introduced, and Bruce is welcomed onto the judge’s panel beside Nicole and Jacques.

(Yes, Bruce does speak French. Yes, Nicole makes a joke about it being hot.)

Nicole: “We were surprised you accepted our invitation, Mr. Wayne. You’re notorious for staying on the East Coast. What brought you to the Nailed It! Studio?” Bruce: “My children love this show. They always tell me I should be on it since I’m so bad at baking.” Nicole: “Really? Maybe we should do a celebrity season of Nailed It! and have you compete.” Bruce: “No, you should not.”

Nicole: “So, Bruce, I know you have a butler at home who bakes for you. But what’s the grossest thing you’ve eaten? Escargot? Bad caviar?” Bruce: “I drank olive oil straight from the bottle once.” Nicole: “…What?”

The problem for Bruce is he can’t say anything bad. It just feels mean :(

(And he would rather jump into oncoming traffic than gamble with a social interaction)

For the first challenge, the contestants make cake pops. But when Bruce tries the first one, there is a sickening crunch. Bruce’s eyes widen for a second and he slowly chews.

Nicole: “What was that? Bruce, are you okay?” Bruce, clearly struggling: “It’s…good.”

“Bruce, you can spit it out. It’s okay.” “I already swallowed it.” “Oh, you poor thing.” Bruce chokes for a second, and Nicole pats his back. “Please don’t die. We can’t afford it.”

For the big challenge, production has a surprise in store for Bruce.

Dick (9) and Jason (7) run onto the set and smother Bruce with a hug.

It’s adorable. Bruce no longer cares about paying attention, okay? His kids are here :D

The two boys read from cue cards to announce the second challenge: a three-tiered Gotcha Day cake. And as per tradition, the winner of the first challenge gets a leg-up.

This time, it’s a Helping Hands Button. When they hit the button, Dick and Jason will run over and help them for three minutes. (While being supervised, of course.)

As the contestants bake, Nicole says hello to Dick and Jason, who are clambering all over Bruce like a jungle gym. They both shake her hand and talk about how they love the show.

Nicole looks pointedly at the two empty chairs beside Bruce. “You know, we brought these chairs for you two to sit in.” Dick, on Bruce’s shoulders: “We’re fine, Ms. Byer!” Nicole: “Ms. Byer? Oh, you’re a cutie, aren’t you?”

Just ten minutes before the challenge is over, the Helping Hands button is pressed, and Dick and Jason are given stools so they can help the aunt and niece stack their cake tiers.

Two minutes in, the aunt instructs them to let go of the cake. But the moment Jason pulls his hands away, the cake topples over and covers him in frosting. Jason, whispering: “Oh f*ck.” Bruce: “Jason!” Jason: “I didn’t say that! Dick did!” Nicole: *cackling as Bruce buried his face in his hands*

Jason gets cleaned up, and Dick helps them stack what can still be salvaged.

When Wes brings out the trophy, he’s dressed as Batman. Dick and Jason gets a kick out of that.

Celebrity Family Feud

Bruce was invited to the show after his SNL skit went viral a few months ago

This episode, the teams are split up by cities they grew up in. Gotham v. Star City. Naturally, his team is playing for the Wayne Foundation.

It’s a pretty odd cast of people, most of them having moved to LA or Hollywood. Bruce is the only one to still live in Gotham.

They have fun, though, despite their limited common ground. The audience has a few good laughs.

(Some at Bruce's expense)

Harvey: You're a very wealthy man, Mr. Wayne. What do you really do in that tower all day? Bruce: I, uh…business? Harvey: …You business. Bruce: ……Wait-

All in good fun. Bruce just vibes in his little corner until he needs to answer a question. It's pretty chill.

For exactly half of the episode.

Then it happens.

Steve Harvey takes two people from each team up to the buzzer and says, “We asked 100 people: Name something your parents always told you as a kid.”

What the production failed to consider is how this particular question might be a sensitive topic for some contestants.

Bruce’s team gets the question, and Steve saunters up to Bruce, completely oblivious.

“Alright, Bruce Wayne!” Bruce nods awkwardly. “Hi, Steve.” “Bruce, what’s wrong? You’re looking a bit uncomfortable.” “…I don’t like this question, Steve.” “Why not?” Bruce just gives him a desperate look, and it clicks. “Oh! Oh my gosh!”

Let’s be real. Bruce is awkward enough, but Steve Harvey cannot save an awkward moment for his life either.

But he tries his best anyway and asks, “Are you okay with answering this question, or would you like to pass?” Bruce nods frantically. “I can answer. ‘I love you.’” “I love you too, Mr. Wayne.” “No, uh, my answer is ‘I love you.’” “Oh! That’s a good one.”

Thankfully, the audience erupts in laughter. That little interaction cuts the tension, and Bruce’s answer ends up on the board.

And by god, the memes

“I love you too, Mr. Wayne” is the new “Enjoy your meal.” “You too.”

The audio clip of “I don’t like this question, Steve” goes viral on TikTok

Someone gets a pic of Bruce and Steve looking at each other with palpable fear in their eyes, and it makes its rounds all over Twitter

10/10 never again

Running Wild with Bear Grylls

Now this is the most challenging. Not because it’s difficult, of course. But because Bruce has to look stupid enough to maintain his Brucie Wayne persona but smart enough to keep himself safe.

For this episode, Bear takes Bruce to the California desert.

“How much do you know about survival, Bruce?” Bear asks. Bruce nods carefully. “I did some survival training once with a friend from boarding school.” “Oh really, how did you do?” “Fine, I think.”

This is, of course, his way of saying I trained with a league of assassins for years, but Bear can’t know that! And that’s how most of the episode goes.

Thank god Bruce's fear of being caught is mistaken for being scared of the physical challenge because every time Bear points out how well he’s doing, he breaks into a sweat.

Bear: For a businessman, you’re surprisingly fit. Bruce, sweating bullets: Oh, this is all just for show.

Bear: Wow, you’re a natural. Are you sure you’ve never set up a zip-line before? Bruce, gripping his equipment so tight he gets rope burn: I think it’s just the survival instincts.

Of course, he pretends to be out of breath a few times. The Drama.

Bruce, pretending to slip and fall: Ouch! Who knew the outdoors were so dangerous? Bear, you are crazy. Bruce, internally: How much longer are we doing this?

Bruce being a vegetarian is actually a point of contention. You see, Bear always makes their celebrity guests do something crazy for food like skin a snake or eat a mouse. Scavenging for berries just doesn’t grab the audience’s attention.

But do you know what is vegetarian?

Bear: Now, in extreme cases of survival, it’s not rare for humans to resort to drinking their own pee. That’s what we’ll be doing in a moment. Are you up for it? Bruce, visibly repulsed: I’ve had Gotham tap water. I’ll be fine.

How on God’s Green Earth did Alfred convince him to do this?

To get to the extraction point, Bear takes Bruce down a cliffside.

Bear shows Bruce the meticulous process of properly belaying from the top of a cliff, and Bruce, who has done this over 100 times is like, “Wow that’s so dangerous :( Will we be okay?”

He really tries to ramp up his acting skills this time.

(Little does he know that’s not necessary.)

Bruce goes down first as Bear belays with a cameraman filming from the top. Halfway down, Bruce hears a scuffle, and the cameraman yells, “F*ck!”

Bruce looks up, arms already out for protection, and he sees a small disk falling towards him. It’s the lens cap. He catches it on instinct.

For a second, he thinks, “Shit, was that too skilled? That’s not enough to make people think I’m Batman, right? I just caught it in midair while dangling from a cliff. That’s totally not weird and suspicious. Normal people do that—“

Then Bear yells, “Bruce, drop it!” Bruce looks up at Bear, confused. “Why?” “There's a scorpion!” That’s when Bruce looks at the lens cap and sees a black scorpion perched on top with its tail ready to strike.

They don’t have those in Gotham.

Bruce jumps in his harness and flings the cap at the rocky cliffside. He hears a crunch, and the scorpion and cap tumble to the ground. Bruce frowns. Can a scorpion survive that drop?

“You just killed a scorpion, mate!” Bear cries. Bruce looks up in horror. “I killed it?!” “Hell yeah!” Bruce’s face falls. “No!”

Because oh. shit.

Bruce just killed something. The sad, orphaned vegetarian just killed a scorpion.

Bruce has a meltdown.

He didn’t mean to kill it!!!! Oh no, he just killed an innocent little creature. Yeah, he punches people for fun sometimes, and he definitely put a few violent criminals in the hospital, but he’s never committed MURDER!!

This poor little scorpion died due to his own negligence, and he feels so so so bad about it.

Bruce is a mess as he climbs the rest of the way down.

Bruce, cradling the scorpion’s body: I don’t know how to perform CPR on a scorpion! Bear: Bruce, you took its head clean off. Bruce: *sad noises*

Legit inconsolable. To him, it’s like he just murdered a puppy

Once they're out, Bear is trying to cheer him up. Bless him.

Bear: We’ve conquered the wild! Haven’t we, Bruce? Bruce, head between his legs, still mourning the scorpion: I’m never going outside again.

Yeah, no one’s going to think he’s Batman after that.

And that's all four of Bruce's TV appearances from the West Coast :) Dick and Jason never let him live any of it down. Alfred is almost sorry. (He is not sorry.)

Let me know your thoughts! What other TV shows do you think Battinson would appear on as a guest?

Okie dokie :D Love y'all! Have a good day <3

[currebunz]

Captured (Kenji Sato x singer!Reader)

A/N: I just wanted to write something after watching the movie. Considering making a proper story but I dunno :P

It had all happened so quickly, the drones surrounding your car and the men dragging you into an unmarked vehicle. Your phone was taken and your secretary was left frazzled as you were abducted by a mysterious group. It wasn’t until you were in the car did you realize who had taken you. The panic wore off as you steeled yourself the best you could. The KDF had acted upon the suspicions you had been warned about. Then you were blindfolded and presumably taken to their base.

When your sight returned, you were in an interrogation room of some sort. It was obvious by the one table and two chairs. Surveillance cameras in the corners and the one way out of the room. If it wasn’t, then it was your prison. The door opened and the tall presence of Dr. Onda entered the room.

“I’m sure you have your questions, so do we” he began.

You kept calm, not wanting to show fear or nervousness. You know why you were here.

“Let’s not beat around the bush, I saw you with the infant kaiju. Where is it hiding?” Onda demanded.

A monitor brought up the event from a few nights ago. The baby kaiju that you had only recently met, it had gone on a rampage at night as Onda had put it. The creature had been attracted to your concert and jumped over the venue walls to join you on stage.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you said plainly.

“You cannot deny the evidence, it was familiar with you” Onda accused you.

“Hello? I am the number one on the charts right now. I’m sure my music reached the baby at some point. My music videos are being played all over Tokyo” you argued.

“How do you explain your reaction? You didn’t run from the infant” Onda continued.

You kept your face still and calm. In your head, you thought of the baby Kaiju and Kenji. You were determined to protect both of them.

“Dr. Onda, just like with any other attack my fans hold priority for me over my own safety. I was scared, but I needed to ensure my fans had time to evacuate. Even if it meant being in the line of fire. I do this all the time” you explained.

Of course he knew, there was an ongoing buzz in your fanbase about kaijus enjoying your music. It didn’t bother you one bit, especially after meeting the cutest one you had ever seen before.

“Then you sympathize with these monsters? Is that why you hide the infant?” Onda continued to press.

“If the kaiju had attacked me or my fans, I would have felt some sort of way about it. But you can see clearly on the footage, the baby started dancing. It was singing along, not trying to hurt anyone” you said firmly.

Onda paused, letting the camera footage replay once more. You were still singing on stage as the pink baby kaiju screeched and chirped along with the beat. It was clumsy, but the creature had a vague understanding of the choreography. As if practiced.

“If you won’t tell us, I have my ways of extracting the truth from you” Onda warned.

“You can’t hold me here without reason for arrest, I’ll throw the book at you as many times as I have to” you shot back.

“I’ll have you know the KDF acts above the law” Onda smirked.

“And if you knew anything about musicians, you would know we have a reputation of not giving a fuck about authority figures” you said confidently.

Onda must have realized this was going nowhere as his smile fell. He stopped the camera footage and made his exit.

“I’ll give you time to think about it, surely you will make the right choice once you have cleared your head” he said as the door shut.

Now that he was gone, you let out a deep sigh. How were you getting out of this one?

____

It hit him hard hearing that you were kidnapped. Mina had found surveillance footage of you being dragged away. The panicked look on your face made his heart clench. Even the baby had let out a sad screech, clawing at the refined glass walls of her containment unit. The moment Kenji saw the footage end, he was storming to the exit.

“Wait, Kenji!” Professor Sato stopped his son.

“I can’t wait! Don’t you know what they will do?!” he shouted.

“I know that, but you can’t just break in as Ultraman. We need a plan” the professor said firmly.

Kenji could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. As much as it pained him, his father was right. He probably wouldn’t be able to maintain his Ultraman form in this state.

“Then what do we do?” he asked.

“We do what we can, Mina. Hack the systems and get me eyes inside the base” Professor Sato requested.

“Very well” Mina responded.

“Hack? Dad, is that even legal?” Kenji asked in shock.

“Legality was thrown out the minute they abducted [y/n]” Professor Sato said.

Kenji felt a bit of hope, it had been a long time since he saw his dad like this. He watched as the camera feed showed up in front of them. It cycled through rooms until they found you. They watched the interrogation with Onda, proud of your strong reply.

“I knew they wouldn’t break [y/n]” Kenji smiled proudly.

“Reminds me of your mother, tough as nails” Professor Sato agreed.

The cameras began to feed other rooms as Professor Sato mapped a way out.

“It’s possible I can guide [y/n] out of there. It will be difficult and we will have to believe in [y/n]’s ability to make it out. But that's all we got” he continued.

“What can I do?” Kenji asked.

“You are going to be the getaway driver, get ready to rendezvous outside the base” Professor Sato ordered.

“Got it, Mina, keep me in the loop and send camera feed to my watch” Kenji requested.

“Already on it” Mina said.

____

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but your mind was getting fuzzy. Just being in the room was unsettling and you wanted to get out. You had tried to look for a way out but there was none other than the locked door. The cameras followed your movement, stripping away what little privacy you had left. They gave you back your phone, but there was no reception at all. The device was just a heavy bar in your hand at this point.

“[y/n]!” a familiar voice hissed.

You turned your head to the monitor in the room, it looked turned off but you were sure you heard a voice.

“Don’t look, pretend like you don’t hear us. I’m taking the cameras down in a second so you need to work fast” Professor Sato explained.

You nodded, not wanting to seem suspicious. You waited until he gave the signal and then rushed over to the monitor.

“There isn’t a lot of time to explain, but I am going to guide you out of the base. Follow the map I am sending to your phone-”

“My phone doesn’t have a signal?” you began.

“It’s jammed, I can only shut down the jammer for a second so keep the image up” Professor Sato said.

Sure enough, a strange map was sent to your phone. It looked like a maze to you but there was a portion lit up with a bright color.

“Follow this path, I will keep an eye on you and use their systems to warn you. But you must go now!” he warned.

“But what about when I get out?” you asked frantically.

“Kenji will be waiting for you,” Professor Sato said before disconnecting.

The door to the room slid open and you could hear sirens wailing. Spurred by the thought of meeting with Kenji, you started to run. The halls felt like they went on for miles, barren with solid colors and a few lights. If you weren’t careful, you could easily get lost in the minimalist design of the base. Occasionally, you could hear Professor Sato over the speakers in the base direct you to change paths to avoid guards. However, it was inevitable that you would run into someone.

“I found the captive!” the guard shouted.

You didn’t stop running, charging at the man and sliding on the floor. You used the momentum and the weight of your body to crash into his legs, sending him onto the floor. You quickly recovered, stumbling as you tried to maintain the speed and fix your running stance. The halls began to turn and soon you found yourself in a different area. All you could do was hope that it was closer to the entrance.

More guard appeared and the ground began to descend, a trap to keep you from getting past them. But you let the floor get low enough that you could jump on their helmets like stepping stones to cross the divide. You jumped, just barely making it onto the edge and kept running. Your heart was beating in your chest and your throat burned like it was on fire. You wanted to stop, you wanted to rest.

But Kenji was waiting for you.

That spurred you on until you were sure you were nearing the exit and entrance. Professor Sato’s words of encouragement reassured you as you ran and jumped over the guard’s gate. The sunset blinded you as you kept running, until you heard the rev of an engine. A large shadow filled your vision as your eyes adjusted to the brightness. A hand was extended out to you.

“Let’s get out of here”

You could see Kenji’s smile and grasp his hand tightly. He pulled you onto the back of his bike and you held on for dear life. You kept your eyes closed as your hands dug into his toned body. Your face was pressed into his back and you inhaled his scent. It was all you could do to try and calm yourself. At least until you were sure you were safe. When the ride came to an end, you were at Kenji’s place. You climbed off the bike and Kenji removed his helmet frantically.

“Oh my god! You were amazing, I saw everything! You were so, so-” Kenji’s voice died off as he finally looked at you properly.

Your shoulders were shaking, your hands clasped together but still shaking. Your pupils were blown and your breathing unsteady.

“You were scared…” he finished as he realized the gravity of the situation.

“Kenji…. Ken…” you tried to speak properly.

You reached a hand out, but then brought it back to your body. But it was too late, he had already seen it. Kenji’s larged hand closer around your wrist and he pulled you into him. He had been a bit forceful, making your cheek tender as your face was thrust into his chest. You could hear his frantic heartbeat, it nearly matched yours.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he whispered into your hair.

“Ken…”

“It’s all my fault, I should have been there to protect you”

“Ken?...”

“I won’t let it happen again, I promise you that-”

You tighten your hands on his shirt, balling his shirt into your fists.

“Can we just… go inside for now?” you asked.

Kenji pulled back, looking deeply into your eyes. He could see the worry still in them, he was being selfish with his guilt and ignoring your anxiety.

“Y-Yeah, yeah! Let’s go inside the house. Dad, Mina and the baby want to see you too” Kenji stammered out as he pulled you along to the door.

You let out a shaky breath, his grip kept you grounded as you felt like you would fall apart in a second. Kenji was your lifeline right now, and you were grateful for it.

[turcott3]

wrapped around your finger

luca fantilli x fem! reader (ft. umich hockey team and gfs!!)

warnings?: cursing, alcohol, unprotected sex (p in v, public sex, spanking, choking (not really but kinda?), hair pulling, happy ending🥳

masterlist

-

“are yall ready yet?” rutger yells from the foyer.

“yes one second.” you yell back, deciding against the extra setting spray. it wasn’t hot outside, it’s not like you were going to sweat it off.

“we gotta go, i want a good view.” luca says grabbing his keys out of the bowl and heading outside. you opted to ride with luca since the group had to split but you always found yourself gravitating to him. the two of you had never spent time alone together but you always had a slight attachment to him, better described as a little bitty crush.

“have you looked at the set list yet?” he asked you, who got lucky and sat shotgun. the group was going to see post malone, and everyone was excited to go and get sloshed.

“i haven’t, i’ll check now.” you simply state opening spotify and reading it out to him.

“fuck this is gonna be so good.” he says, excitement lining his tone.

“does this venue id?” tyler asks from the backseat.

“no.” you answer quickly.

“may i ask how you know this?” luca giggles.

“i’ve been before, got absolutely hammered.” you say, reminiscing the last concert you attended.

“sweet, tj you’re off the hook,” he says patting the ginger on the back.

“thank god. they would’ve thought i was a fucking alcoholic buying all of those drinks.” he says, relief practically oozing out of him. you pulled into the venue closely behind your friends in the other car.

“everyone got their shit?” rutger asks and everyone replies ‘yes’ before shutting his trunk and locking the car. you made your way inside the venue, quickly finding a place to sit with a decent view of the stage. you loved that this tour was all outdoor shows considering the temperature in michigan in the summer was perfect. you laid your towel out and sat down, luca sitting his towel right next to yours.

“you’re gonna be my designated concert buddy?” you ask laughing at the position he sat in.

“sure am, we never really spend any time together so i figured this was a perfect opportunity.” he smiles and you giggle in response, keeping your cheeks from turning too red.

“drinks for the lot of ya!” jacob yells in a tacky british accent, approaching the group with tj, multiple beers and seltzers for everyone in hand.

“a seltzer for you of course.” luca says, handing you one of the drinks he grabbed.

“you just know my drinking habits so well don’t you.”

“we’ve been to parties together and how many times have i held your hair while you threw up?”

“it was twice luca.”

“and? i still did it.” he says and you roll your eyes, a smile spreading in your cheeks. it didn’t take too long for the openers to begin their set. you had never heard of them so you talked through it. you spoke with a couple of the guys and their girlfriends, luca talking to adam on the phone, sipping his beer. you couldn’t help but notice that he chose to sit with you, but you didn’t want to overanalyze. you drank and drank some more, without even realizing it. you were already somewhat drunk by the time the openers were finished, which wasn’t your intention.

“hey y/n.” luca asks nudging you.

“huh?”

“are you already drunk?”

“yep sure am, you?”

“a little buzz, nothing too crazy yet.”

“i am fully prepared to be absolutely fucked tonight.“ you reply, his expression becoming more difficult to read.

-

when post malone’s set finally began, you cracked a tall boy open, shot gunning it as well as you could. when you sucked the can dry you threw it on the ground out of breath, almost instantly feeling more drunk than before.

“luca.” you said, your words dragging out in a slur.

“what is it?” he asks, shoving his phone back in his pocket, his eyes reading drunk. you step closer to the boy, wrapping your arm around his back, singing whatever song was playing. you felt him do the same, his hand resting just above your ass on your hip.

the two of you sang together loudly and obnoxiously.

“can i try that?” you ask about the beer he held.

“yeah here.” he says, watching you intensely as you took a large sip.

“that is disgusting.” you reply, wiping your face with your hand as he chuckles. you leaned your head on his shoulder as you listened to the loud music. once the song ended you looked at yourself in the snapchat camera, makeup still in place just as you hoped. you couldn’t tell if the alcohol was clouding your judgment but you were feeling things. all the touching and flirting that had gone on over the last hour had your mind spinning.

“fuck i need a bathroom. luca come with me, i don’t wanna get kidnapped.” you say with a glimmer in your eye. a smirk grows on the boys face.

“okay, hey guys i’m taking her to the bathroom.” he yells at the group before you drag him off by his wrist.

“what’s got you in a hurry, we’ll still be able to hear it.” he giggles, jogging after you. you find a single stall, family restroom unoccupied. you open the door and pull the brunette inside with you.

“ive been wanting to get you alone all night.” you admit.

“i can’t say i haven’t felt the same way.” he replies, slurring his words. you two were both plastered but you know what they say about drunk words. in an instant, the boy pushes you by your biceps against the cold cinderblock wall, attaching your lips hastily and sloppily. your hands find their way into his hair, gripping at the strands as he swipes his tongue over your lip begging for entry. you swear hours pass by before he backs away.

“you look so fucking sexy tonight y/n.” he smirks as you two find your way to the sink.

“fuck you make me so horny.” you mutter, squeezing your thighs together as he picks you up and places you on the counter. your short skirt gave him easy access to your throbbing core, running fingers over your soaked panties and sucking them clean.

“god you taste so good.” he smirks, reconnecting your lips again, giving you a taste for yourself. he pulls away with hazy eyes, squatting down quickly and pulling your panties to the side.

“oh my fucking god.” you yell at the contact. his tongue twisted your already swollen bud in circles, sucking and rubbing it in a rhythmic fashion.

“fuck.” you say, gripping onto the boys hair as you finished, quicker than you could’ve imagined. he stands back up, his face soaked in your cum.

“you’re fucking incredible.” he says and you grab him by his shirt, which you unbuttoned hastily after you aggressively reattached your lips. he helped you finish the job as he pulled away, unbuttoning his denim shorts and pulling his throbbing cock out as quickly as he could. you stared at his tip as it leaked with precum and the pure size of him. he rubbed himself harder with a few strokes before looking back up at you.

“fuck me luca. please.” you beg and he instantly caves, pushing himself into you, his hands pressed against the mirror as he pushed into you for the first time. you moaned at the sensation. his tip hit the sweet spot buried deep inside you without even trying.

“god.” you moan out and he grunts. he thrusts into you deep and hard as he pounds into you at a decent speed. your moans snapping a high pitch after the first few thrusts. the music was quickly drowned out by the sounds of your yelps in a bathroom with poor acoustics.

“such a good girl taking me like this.” he smirks at you.

“you feel so good, god lu.” you say, your fingers gripping the hair on the back of his head.

“do you think anyone can hear me?” you ask.

“i fucking hope so.” he smirks, sloppily landing his lips back on yours as he stretches you out with every thrust.

“get down and bend over for me pretty girl.” he simply requests and you do so, resting your stomach on the edge of the counter. he pushes your skirt up further.

“look at that ass, god damn.” he says spanking you once before placing a gentle hand on your, now bright red, ass cheek pushing himself back into you. he grabs onto your hips pulling you onto him as he thrusts. your eyes roll into the back of your head with overstimulation, your sweaty hand slapping onto the mirror for better stability. he pounds into you at an unforgiving speed, wanting to get a good climax out of it. he wraps his hand around your hair, pulling you up flush against his chest as he continues his quick thrusts into you, turning you from moaning to practically yelling. gently he wrapped a hand around your throat as you looked in the mirror at the two of you. your mascara now smeared around your eyes, his cheeks red and forehead dotted with beads of sweat from the steamed bathroom.

“look at you, taking me so fucking good huh?” he asks, making eye contact with you in the mirror. he bucks into you sharply, a yelp leaving your mouth in an instant. carefully, he picks you back up, placing you on the counter. you could tell by the speed that he was getting closer, but the fact of the matter was that you were even closer. he pushes back into you easily sliding back in, a sensation you could never get used to. the way he hit your sweet spot was almost more intoxicating than all the alcohol you drank that lead you to this moment.

“fuck luca, i’m gonna come.” you moan, your nails digging harshly into his back, your speech broken up by his spastic and deep thrusts. moments later, you feel your body relax as a knot came undone in your abdomen. he fucked you right through your high into his own climax. spilling his seed deep inside you. he pressed his forehead to your chest as the two of you sat, gasping for air for a few moments. he runs his fingers through the salty mix of your climaxes between your legs attempting to somewhat clean you up, his drunk mind not thinking about the toilet paper that sat on the back of the toilet 2 feet away from you. you grab his hand and suck his fingers clean, surprising him and showing him that you swallowed every drop of the nasty mixture.

“fucking god y/n you’re gorgeous, let me help you down.” he says, tucking himself back in his pants, lending his hands for you to hop off the counter. you pull your panties back over your sensitive core, and tug your skirt down.

“lu, can you help me fix my makeup.” you whine, referring to the black streaks that formed around your eyes.

“yes baby, hold still.” he says, your heart fluttering at the pet name. he licks he thumb, gently wiping away the mess from around your eyes.

“how does that look?” he asks as you turn around.

“good enough.” you giggle turning back around.

“luca your hair. i’m sorry.” you giggle as he smiles, wrapping his strong arms around you.

“i don’t care about my hair.” he says as you press your cheek to the warm skin of his chest.

“we should go back.” you say patting him on the chest.

“yeah they’re probably getting suspicious by now.” he giggles, taking your hand and unlocking the door, seeing a long line outside the bathroom. the two of you chuckle as you jog past the impatient people in line, back to your spot on the lawn.

“you missed like 6 songs, where the fuck were you gu- oh.” rutger started before getting a good look at you two.

“what?” you ask.

“oh nothing.” he giggles, whispering to his girlfriend who he stood next to.

“girl where did you go?” franks girlfriend asks, tugging you away from luca’s side.

“i had to uh-“ you start and then turn around to see luca dapping up his teammates, clearly spilling what had gone on in the bathroom, “we fucked.”

“in the bathroom?” jacob’s girlfriend says interrupting.

“yeah we did.” you smirk.

“well was it at least good?” frank’s girlfriend asks.

“oh my god yes. his dick is so big, i don’t think i would wanna fuck anyone else like ever again.” you giggle with them, your drunkness seeping back into your vocabulary.

“you guys would be cute, i see the vision.” she says stepping back and looking at both of you.

“i think we would be too, not to be vain or anything.” you joke.

“go for it babe, luca doesn’t fuck just to fuck. or at least that’s what jacob’s told me. he fucks to date.” she says nudging you on the arm.

“honestly i probably will go for it, let’s see how this goes, hey lu?” you call out, catching his attention instantly. he walks over, hugging you to his side.

“what’s up?” he asks, his thumb grazing over the fabric of your skirt.

“maybe you guys are right.” you laugh and he appears confused. the two of you enjoy the rest of the concert, hugging onto each other and singing your hearts out for the final few songs.

-

“everyone’s asleep.” luca giggles as you pulled back into the driveway.

“awe look at them so cute.” you reply.

“are you gonna regret what we did tonight?” he asks, his voice in a whisper.

“not in the slightest.” you say placing a hand on his cheek and connecting your lips softly for a moment.

“you have no idea how badly i wanted to hear you say that.” he smiles as you pull away slightly.

“i can’t let anyone else have that dick or that hair. or just that boy in general.” you say locking eyes with him. instead of replying he reconnects your lips once again, the kiss lingering for a what seems like an eternity. an eternity that you hoped would never come to an end.

“we should wake them up.” you whisper on his lips.

“yeah probably.” he smiles, pecking your lips one last time before waking everyone up to come inside.

-

[dstryvampres]

hi thats me again 😭 (i hope i'm not annoying or smth) one shot inspired by song "crush" ethel cain with jonathan crane?

you're like the least annoying requester ever ily, you always give me requests that make me so so so passionate about writing. also ty for making me bite the ethel cain bullet this song is goooood.

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary: you find out Jonathan Crane, a past classmate of yours in university, frequents the sketchy bar you work at.

Warnings: smoking(for both you and crane this time!), mention of drug dealing, fingering, nipple play, creampie, spanking once, breeding kink

Word count: 3.1k

Marlboro Reds is one thing that you and Jonathan Crane share in common, but not the only thing you share in common. A quick smoke break helped you discover the other two. Firstly, that you two went to the same university and took the same major during your undergraduate, and would smoke after the exact same class. Secondly, that now, almost eight years after graduating, you both go to the same bar run by Falcone in one of the sketchiest neighbourhoods in Gotham. Important to note that you were a full-time bartender, part-time stage act (only on Tuesdays and Thursdays) here, and Jonathan was merely a patron.

When you first saw Jonathan Crane here, you were stepping out for a five minute smoke break at around 2 am on a pretty mild Saturday. You didn’t take note of anyone in your usually smoking spot, just pressing around in your jacket pockets for your cigarette case and lighter. The cigarette case was in the left pocket of the leather jacket you have on, but you couldn’t find your lighter. You groaned, looking up at the sky. It’s hard to smoke without a lighter, but if you went back inside you were sure someone would put you to work before you could sneak back out.

There was a small click of a lighter to your left. Jonathan Crane, the overly successful psychologist that has an iron grip on Arkham Asylum, was offering you a light. You quickly fumbled around with your cigarette case and pulled one out. Placed the small stick in your mouth before leaning over and lighting it. Took a drag, blowing out the smoke, and letting it float upwards into the same sky you were just cursing.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, as you debated whether or not you wanted to call to attention the fact that you recognized him. You took another drag.

A part of you wanted to, it was crazy to see him in such a shady joint, where most of the criminals he kept under his own watchful eye came before he got hold, or more so the Batman got hold of them. Nevermind the brief stint of conversations you had with Jonathan throughout your undergraduate years because of smoke breaks. Another part of you was able to acknowledge that you worked at a shady joint as a bartender, despite your Bachelor’s degree. It was highly likely that Jonathan would look down on you due to the fact that you were now a bartender instead of a “high-class” job like him, you had all the right to do the same. What was an internationally recognized psychologist doing here?

“Why do you work here?” Jonathan asked, he didn’t look at you only at the end of his own cigarette as he flicked off the ashes.

“Offered better pay and benefits than anything my Bachelor’s could get,” you stated, looking at the wall of the building across from you.

Jonathan hummed in response. You didn’t bother asking him what he was doing here, you’d find out eventually, finishing off your cigarette before going back into the bar.

It would be about three months later that would find out from one of your coworkers that Jonathan was coming in here to receive some chemicals so he could test something out at Arkham. You never pressed any further, that path of life was no longer yours to ask and investigate. At a place like this you learn quickly to not dig into anything, you never know how deep you can go without ending up dead or liable. Which was partially why you kept Jonathan’s little trips here secret, along with the great tips he gave and your attraction to him being reignited.

By late December of that year, about seven months since that first encounter, you knew certain things about Jonathan that made you feel as if you were stepping too close to that danger point. Of course you knew what days he would stop in, Mondays, Fridays, and possibly Thursdays, his enjoyment of martinis with extra olives and spiced rum and cokes, and his usual little routine around the bar. That was the basics, those are what you were allowed to know without any worries. It likely would’ve stayed this way, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were far too attracted to Jonathan.

Your rapid plunge into Jonathan’s life, and eventually his inner circle, started with how all good things start, workplace gossip. Everytime Jonathan came in, someone behind the bar noticed something new about him. One time something as small as a small cut across his lips sent your coworkers into a small frenzy. Someone started a rumour that he got it while fighting the Joker during the rogues recent stay in Arkham, another claimed it was from the Batman himself. No one could agree on which one was true.

Another aiding factor in your relations with Jonathan Crane was your small smoke breaks. Somehow you always caught the psychologist on his own smoke break. At first neither of you shared much dialogue, a quick question of how each other were doing and how work was going before falling into a silence. Until one day when Jonathan asked if you ever dreamed of doing more, leaving the sketchy part of town, seeing what else was out there. There was a pause as you thought.

“I mean, sometimes I daydream about it. Like if I had the money to do what you did, get a PhD in the thing I once loved… Maybe I’d attend Bruce Wayne’s fancy galas and live in an apartment that doesn’t often get raided due to drug lab busts and weapon sales. Who really knows though, maybe I’m destined for where I am,” you shrugged, looking over at Crane.

His eyebrows were furrowed together, like he couldn’t understand why you weren’t jumping, clawing at everyone and everything, to get out, to be more. How could you just brush off the life you are forced to live? Not crave a higher spot?

“Do you like how you live now?” Jonathan asks, flicking ashes from his cigarette.

“I don’t mind it, I’m still alive,” you state, “Do you like how you live now?”

Jonathan took a deep breath in, looking down at the rain soaked pavement. He dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with the toe of his dress shoe, looking back up at you and locking eyes. His eyes were so blue, so intense, so full of something you just couldn’t understand at that moment.

“I don’t mind it. I’m still here,” Jonathan responds. It's vague, but somehow you get his wording, exactly what he wants to tell you is said.

He leaves without a word and you’re just left alone with your own cigarette and the smoke.

Fourth thing in common about you and Jonathan Crane: maybe your life is just mediocre, and maybe you don’t want much more.

Soon enough Jonathan came to your joint smoke breaks with more questions, and you came with more complex answers. Five minutes wasn’t enough for the two of you to connect, by November you found each other outside of the bar. 5pm to 9pm was just after Jonathan’s shift and just before yours, allowing for a quick dinner chat with one another or any other activity for two individuals in their late twenties. 2am to 7am was just before Jonathan’s work and right after yours, it was during this time that you would have to pick between one of your guys’ houses or the dollar slice pizzeria down the road.

Though it was in none of these places that you and Jonathan shared your first kiss. At 3am just right outside a conscience store on the corner of your street your lips found Jonathan’s. With a Diet Coke in your hand and a packet of nuts in his own hand. It was oddly tender for the passionate, fiery psychologist, he even placed a hand on your cheek during the initial kiss. It was mid November, and by the next day you started to end up waking up beside Jonathan in your bed. His clothes found a home in your laundry, and your clothes were tucked inside his dresser.

Twisted inbetween the exhaustion of living in Gotham, work, and now your weird relationship with Jonathan, you found a new rhythm.

“Nothing Dr Edwin ever taught us was important,” Jonathan huffed out beside you.

The both of you are laying on Jonathan’s bed, a soft light from a lamp on his desk at the opposite side of the room. Allowing you to see how the bones and muscles of Jonathan’s torso contort as he stretches and shifts beside you. He tucks an arm between you and the mattress, almost tangled together, almost sharing an intimate moment.

“You always bitch about that. Dr Edwin was just old fashioned,” you retort, rolling your eyes.

For the last week now, the chilly lacklustre atmosphere of the last week of the year, you’ve finally been able to piece together small portions of Jonathan’s life. Well, maybe not piece together, more like be hit in the face with it. After falling asleep last Wednesday at Jonathan’s place, you woke up and tried to retrieve some fresh clothing. Digging around in his closet you happen across a haphazardly stitched together mask. The craftsmanship is shakey, but it’s obvious the mask serves its purpose when you look at it a little long. A gas mask. More notably it was a scarecrow themed mask. You stuff it back into the drawer where you found it and continued on. This time, you wanted to let Jonathan keep this secret, at least at first.

Soon enough the questions caught up to you. Why would Jonathan need a gas mask? A scarecrow themed one at that? You already knew the answer. If you were right about this, you kind of didn’t care. You didn’t care if Jonathan was Scarecrow. If the man that had been the only person in all of Gotham to share almost every night with you, to sleep skin to skin with you was a bad man, it didn’t matter. Good men die. You’d rather be with someone who you know already cares for you. All the good Jonathan has done for you outways whatever he does out in the city on the nights he doesn’t spend with you.

“What do you do with the drugs you get from your buddies at the bar?” you ask, despite knowing that no matter Jonathan’s answer you’ll still stay.

Jonathan’s silent for a minute, chest moves up and down, getting slightly more rapid.

“I’m testing the concept of fear on patients at Arkham. I know it’s not morally correct, but I believe science and morals don’t always mix,” Jonathan states, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

“Okay,” you hum out, rolling over onto your side to cuddle up next to Jonathan. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Jonathan offers back, stroking your cheek lightly with his finger before shutting his own eyes.

Men have done a lot worse, no good man exists really. Everyone has something. You’re no saint, and neither is Jonathan.

Two days later, now tangled on top of your own bed in your apartment. Cars pass by down on the street, despite it being extremely late. Gotham never sleeps. Jonathan presses his lips against yours, hot and needy. Breathing you in. His hands cupping your cheeks, and yours scratching his bare chest lightly. He licks at your lower lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moan softly at the action, bucking your hips upward into his.

Jonathan breaks away from the kiss. Placing his thumb on your lower lip and swiping at it, then bringing it to his own mouth and kissing it. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and lightly grabs a handful of hair, exposing your neck to him. You feel his breath tickle your jugular, then soft, almost nonexistent, kisses are placed up and down your neck. He repeats going up and down your neck in feather light kisses three times before he starts trailing sloppy wet ones down your neck. Biting softly in certain areas, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. You hiss and whine at every move he makes down your neck. Moving to wrap your arms around him, leaving small scratches on his back.

The hand in your hair drops to the clasp on the back of your bra, both hands slowly working off the item. Bra hitting the floor beside your bed as Jonathan starts to cup and squeeze your breasts. He kisses both of your nipples before pulling back and looking at your boobs in his hands. Moving his hands to tweak at your nipples, you whine out.

“So beautiful,” Jonathan sighs out, watching both your breasts as he tweaks at your nipples and your face contorted into pleasure.

Jonathan’s weight is pressed on your hips as he continues to toy with your nipples. Sitting on your hips as you lay down, unable to buck your hips in any search for pleasure.

“Oh— fuck, God! Jonathan, my tits are so sensitive right now! please just— ah.” you moan out, moving your hands to grip onto his biceps in support.

Jonathan just grins in response, giving one last pull to your nipples before moving his hands down to the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“You want me to touch your pussy now sweetheart?” Jonathan asks, toying with the fabric.

You nod eagerly, now able to buck and wiggle your hips to due Jonathan removing his weight off of your hips.

“You gotta speak up,” Jonathan teases, snapping your waistband.

“Yes please! Play with my pussy— all yours,” you whine.

Gasping in relief as he takes your shirts and panties off in one swoop. Though a little devastated Jonathan wasn’t able to admire the lacy black thong you picked out that night.

Jonathan hums as he spreads your pussy lips with his fingers, admiring your wet, hot core. Taking a finger and swiping up and down your cunt, gathering your wetness. He circles his fingers directly outside your opening, causing you to wiggle your hips and whine out. This earns you a small slap on your inner thigh, yelping out in pain.

“If you want something you ask for it,” Jonathan reminds, clicking his tongue.

“Can— oh, fuck— can you give me your fingers?” you ask, batting your eyelashes.

Jonathan instantly complies with your request, slipping two digits into your wet cunt. You gasp out at the intrusion, bucking onto his fingers. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, his pace reminds you that he’s merely doing this to stretch you out. You feel his hard-on poking at your thigh, precum staining his underwear.

“So wet for me tonight, aren’t you pretty girl?” Jonathan coos, rubbing his fingers across a sensitive spot in your cunt.

You moan in response, bucking your hips wildly looking for more. He’s right, you’re basically gushing around his fingers, and you already are leaking down your thighs and into the mattress below with just how wet you are. In the cock drunk state you’re in right now, you don’t care.

Jonathan removes his fingers from your cunt. You wiggle your hips in response and furrow your eyebrows, confused as to why Jonathan removed his fingers from your heat. Looking over to find Jonathan freeing his cock from his boxers.

Jonathan’s cock is fat, veiny, and just above average, stretching you out and spearing you. He always leaves you a slobbering mess, begging for his cum and your release by the end of the night. You can feel yourself clench around nothing as you look at Jonathan’s cock, he pumps himself a couple times then lines himself up with you.

There's no warning before Jonathan pushes his cock into you, causing you to yell out a moan. His hands find your hip as he bullies his cock into you, speeding you on it in one thrust. You're gripping at the sheets, legs wrapping around Jonathan’s waist tightly. He pulls out, only leaving his tip in, before Jonathan’s slamming back into you.

A pace is set almost immediately after that first thrust. It’s quick and leaves you moaning pornographically at almost every thrust he makes into you. Jonathan’s lips have come back onto yours, taking small breaks from kissing you to whisper fifth into your ears or to watch your boobs bounce with each thrust. Everytime he pushes into your sopping cunt his cock pressed past your velvety walls into your gummy sweet spot.

“So tight pretty girl, so wet for me too,” Jonathan moans, his breathing slightly increased.

“Fucking me so good,” you slur out in response.

“I’m gonna cum in you, make you all mine,” Jonathan groans, biting down into your neck.

Jonathan’s thrusts start to speed up more afterwards, lifting your hips up to meet his own hips. His balls slap at your ass, making a sound that reverberates around the room with each thrust.

Again, without warning Jonathan pulls out of you and guides you onto all fours before sliding back into you. Grabbing at your hips and fucking you back onto him. He’s groaning loudly as you moan, hitting a new spot inside of you that makes you clench around him tighter with each passing minute. His balls now slap against your clit, providing stimulation there that drives you crazy.

When Jonathan starts to speed up, pace becoming erratic, this extra stimulation on your clit sends you over the edge. Your face being shoved into the pillows as your cunt convulses around Jonathan’s cock. Moaning loudly as you grip onto the headboard of your bed.

“I’m gonna cum inside you— fuck- fuck- fuck- make you all mine,” Jonathan hisses out, burying his cock as far as he can into your cunt.

Bucking his hips in two more times before cumming inside your spent cunt.

You feel as he pulls out of your pussy, a mixture of your cum and Jonathan’s spilling out of you. Jonathan watches it glob out of you, before getting up and grabbing a towel to wipe you up with. Once he’s back he cleans you up, and attempts to do the same with your bed sheets to mediocre results. He throws the towel down and slowly nugs you to the other side of the bed where there isn’t a giant cum stain on the sheets. Laying down beside you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Do you still care for me despite all you know?” Jonathan mumbles, half asleep.

“I haven’t left yet,” you respond.

Taglist: @paradiseprincesss @luluartpop @xanaxiii @galactict3a

[aphrogeneias]

kickstart my heart — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the first time eddie sees your bare chest isn't the way he imagined it would be, and he'd imagined plenty of times.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: smut (+18), dirty thoughts, suggestive dialogue, for the purpose of this story, eddie is a boobs man (but we all know he enjoys the whole package), allusions to sex but no graphic descriptions. jeff is implied to be gay because in my heart all of cc are somewhere in the alphabet mafia.

author's note: elaborating on this. i want to remind you that this is a silly piece and i hope you take It as such <3 also i am incredibly rusty when it comes to writing, i'm sorry if this isn't great.

There were thousands of people around him, including the band on the stage in front of them, but Eddie couldn't look anywhere else but at you, eyes wide with a weird mix of emotions.

As cold sweat made his previously hot skin shiver, all he could think was "this wasn't how I thought it would go". Believe him, he'd thought about it a million times. When he needed to stay awake in class, when you wore low cut tops and tight shirts, in the blessed days you decided to opt out of a bra, late at night with his hand gripping his hard length, leaking all over his mattress. He thought about it an embarrassing amount.

In his daydreams, though, the first time he saw them was very much different. He had visions of you sprawled out on his bed, him undressing you slowing, showing your bare chest little by little until it was revealed in the low light of his bedroom, or dragging you to the ever dirty man's bathroom at The Hideout and ripping your clothes off your body in a rush to worship it.

No matter how much he thought about it, nothing prepared him for the fact that the first time he saw your tits was at a Mötley Crüe concert, in the middle of a crowd of thousands of other people.

Eddie hadn't even wanted to go in the first place — he's not very fond of metal of the glam persuasion, but you and Gareth had convinced him and the other boys to go. Jeff and Grant never passed on an opportunity to watch a good concert, and Eddie just wanted to be near you, any excuse was good enough.

He had spent the night happy, hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket, enjoying the feeling of the music coursing through his body, running through his veins like an adrenaline high. The bass and drums beating in sync with his heartbeat, feeling it deep within his ribcage. It felt good, like it always had. It also felt good watching you in your element, hair a mess after headbanging all night, skin glowing from sweat and the glitter in your makeup, dancing without a care in the world. The way he thinks you always should be.

It was funny at first. When the band made a pause and the members started addressing the audience, he was about to turn to you when the drummer made some particular lewd comments about the "beautiful ladies" in the crowd, expecting you to laugh with him. The whole rockstar shtick doesn't work on you, he knew that much — whenever he tried pulling something like that you'd just roll your eyes, which only spurred him on because he loved watching your beautiful eyes roll up, though he'd like to do that in other ways. What he saw instead was you whispering in Jeff's ear, the pair of you cackling at each other, too conspiratorially for Eddie's taste. 

With his brows joined together in confusion, he watched you lift yourself on Jeff's shoulders, and after that everything happened in slow motion. The drummer had gone and asked to see some tits from the girls in the crowd, and as ridiculous as that sounded, a lot of girls obliged. You included, for his shock.

Gareth blushed and looked down, Grant closed his hands over his eyes, Jeff was laughing — the bastard was the only one unaffected when you lifted your top up to your head for no more than a second, but it was enough to torture him for the rest of the night. He watches you get down to stand on the ground once again, still laughing, and Eddie could tell you were a little flustered, but mostly you looked like you were having a good time.

He couldn't blame you, wouldn't blame you. He had no right to tell you what to do or not to show your body, you could do whatever you wanted. But, as the band proceeded with their setlist, and your eyes met with his, a playful look and a tentative smile on your face, Eddie couldn't reciprocate. He felt jealous, jealous of everyone who got to see you like that too, and frustrated for being able to look but probably never being able to touch the way he wants to, he felt protective over you, afraid that some other guy would feel entitled to look at you or touch you disrespectfully after that. His mind started reeling, and he could barely distinguish the music anymore.

In his brooding, his fists clenching where they still rested in his pockets, he missed the way you looked down, eyes turning sad, unsure about what your best friend's strange expression meant.

"Are you mad at me?"

Your question caught him by surprise, because you'd barely talked during the whole trip back home. The guys were rowdy as usual, sitting in the backseat of his van, talking about the highlights of their night, making fun of you for your little groupie moment, which had you brushing them off with a laugh and smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Eddie felt guilty. He didn't mean to make you feel like that, but he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to that moment, and he couldn't stop the blood from flowing downwards, his pants uncomfortably tight at that point. If you noticed his erection, he was ready to throw himself out of the car in shame.

It didn't help that you were right there beside him, thighs looking delectable sitting in his passenger seat, his hand itching to take place on your knee like it always did whenever he drove you places. He could feel the faint smell of your perfume, and see the way you crossed your arms in front of your chest, not helping with his problem at all.

You had only approached him when he'd stopped the van in front of your house, after he had dropped all the others at theirs. 

"What? No, I'm not…"

You interrupted when he was about to start stammering. "Because if you are, I really don't understand why, and if it's about what I did earlier, you have no right to. You're not my dad, you're not my boyfriend…"

A bitter laugh escaped him before he could help it. "I'm well aware, sweetheart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Still frustrated, he pinches his nose between his fingers. "I'm not mad at you, I'm not judging you", he looks at you then, pointing a ringed finger in your general direction, "I'll have you know I'm a feminist, 'kay?"

You snort. "Okay, Mr. Feminist. What is it, then?"

"I just…", he sighs, "It wasn't supposed to be like that."

Maybe it was the couple of joints you all shared on the way home that had his lips loose like that. Maybe he was tired of holding it all in, his feelings spilling out of him like a dam breaking. Either way, it was out there.

"What wasn't supposed to be like that?" You asked slowly, testing the waters after feeling a shift in the conversation.

"I wasn't supposed to see you like that, I thought the first time I'd see you naked would be different."

Eddie couldn't meet your eyes. He could tell you thought it was funny, with the way you looked like you were holding back a smile. He was never bashful around you, that was the first time you saw him like that.

A lot of firsts for one night, it seemed.

"You think about seeing me naked?" You raised your brow, spurring him on. 

"Yes." He says, simply. Swallowing loudly, the tension grows inside the van. "And I never planned to tell you that, but now is as good a time as ever, I guess."

You scoot a little closer, putting an arm on the back of his seat. "Can I tell you a secret too, just to make us even?"

Eddie just nods, unconsciously getting closer to you as well. You can feel the heat of each other's bodies, an electric current running between you. You draw your mouth near his ear, and whisper "I think about you too."

"Yeah?" Eddie feels his confidence slowly return, his dream coming true right before his eyes. His pretty best friend reciprocating what he thought was his most perverted secret? Couldn't be real — but it was. "We should do something about that, shouldn't we? Gotta give you something other than your imagination to work with."

He wasn't able to resist tucking a fallen piece of your hair back behind your ear. You shifted on your seat, rubbing your thighs together. Eddie took that as encouragement, drawing even closer, hand finally moving to touch the soft skin of your thigh.

"Gonna do you one better, Ed." Your voice lowered, filled with promise. "You can look, and you can touch. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like we've waited long enough."

Later that night, after you were done riding him in the backseat of his van and he'd fucked you on the floor of your bedroom as you desperately tried not to wake the other people in your house, after his hands and mouth explored your body and mapped every inch of your chest, leaving his mark all over it, you'd joked, with a soft giggle at the memory, that you would do the same thing you did that night at the next gig he'd have at local bar.

The only answer you had was an unnecessarily long drag of his cigarette as he laid beside you on the purple comforter of your bed. "If you want me to not last through the set without dragging you out of there early, go ahead."

You'd just kept laughing.

[cheollipop]

wet

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

w.c.: 2.1k

tags: smut, established relationship, non-idol!au

taking in the sight of wooyoung - soaked from head to toe, thin white shirt clinging to his chest and the metal bar piercing his nipple protruding from the wet material - you simply couldn't wait until you got home.

warnings: dom!woo, sub!reader, semi-public sex (they're in a public bathroom), slight exhibitionism, wooyoung has a nipple piercing, unprotected sex (👎), wall sex (wy is strong.... and has pretty veins.... ehem), pussy slapping, (very gentle) face slapping, squirting, rough oral sex (m receiving), spit kink, face-fucking, deepthroating, fingering (m receiving), cum-eating/swallowing, dirty talk, praise, nicknames (youngie, baby, pretty girl, good girl, darling, angel)

A/N: somebody restrain me. please.

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

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“Oh baby, you’re drooling everywhere. Am I fucking you that good?”

Wooyoung had you pressed against the wall in the cramped public bathroom, palms splayed out over your ass, veins protruding as he held you up and rammed his cock into your sopping heat.

“So-so good! Hnnngh-” You arched your back, pushing your chest into his. One of your hands slid down the soaked material of his shirt to circle two fingers over his nipple, tugging at the metal bar decorating it and feeling a fresh wave of arousal rush to your core at the groan it elicited from Wooyoung.

One look at Wooyoung while you were in the crowd, drenched from head to toe with the water the artists performing had sprayed you with, and your eyes couldn’t help but fixate on the metal adorning his perky nipple, prominent through the thin material of his white shirt. As soon as the last artist left the stage, you found yourself dragging Wooyoung to the nearest public bathroom, too impatient to walk to the car. Wooyoung, it turned out, was just as desperate, not wasting time before pushing you up against the wall, tugging your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket before sliding his cock inside you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively when one of his hands left its spot on your ass, cupping your jaw and sliding his thumb over your bottom lip, freeing it from the painful grip your teeth had on it. “Why’s my pretty girl being so quiet? Let me hear your voice.” He accentuated his words with a firm thrust, his cockhead pressing harshly against your g-spot, groaning when your walls clenched around him.

Your bottom lip found itself at the mercy of your teeth once again, Wooyoung’s hips snapping against your own forcefully, pushing you up against the wall with every thrust. You didn’t notice Wooyoung’s hand leaving your face and sliding between your bodies, neither did you expect three of his fingers landing sharply onto your clit, your body convulsing at the sudden pain.

“What did I say?” He leaned forward and bit down on your jaw, his hips unrelenting as he drove his cock into you, fucking the tip directly into your favourite spot and smiling lopsidedly at the uncontrolled shaking of your thighs around him. “Didn’t I tell you not to hold back your pretty voice?”

With your head lolling back as pleasure shot up your spine and your eyes fluttering shut, you missed how Wooyoung’s hand quickly moved to cup the back of your head, stopping it from hitting the wall behind you. Just as quick as he had done that, his fingers were back on your clit, your eyes shooting open when he dropped another painful slap onto the swollen nub. You gushed around him, releasing your bottom lip and emitting a desperate whine, hips rolling to meet Wooyoung’s cock halfway.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, breathing out a series of grunts and moans before speaking. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me now? Let everyone hear how good I’m fucking you?”

“Uh-huhh, want everyone to know h-how good Youngie f-feels-”

Wooyoung’s chest swelled with pride – you were so pliant and desperate, feet digging into his lower back and pushing him deeper inside your clenching pussy, eyes rolling to the back of your head while he ground his hips into you. He stuck his tongue out and licked up the drool leaking out the side of your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down. “That’s right, let them all hear how pretty you sound when you’re creaming all over Youngie’s cock.”

“Gonna- I-I’m gonna cum- please, please, please! Please don’t stop- Nghhh!” You chanted, high-pitched and desperate as he fucked you stupid, your pussy squelching every time he pumped his cock into your cunt.

“Yeah? Is my good girl gonna cum for Youngie?”

Your orgasm punched through you, sending hot flashes of ecstasy rushing through your whole body. Your thighs shook violently around Wooyoung’s waist as he fucked you through your high, his fingers working your clit and elongating the abuse to your nerves. The pressure in your abdomen released, a stream of hot, translucent liquid flowing out of you in streams, cascading down Wooyoung’s length and wetting his legs. He swallowed your cries of pleasure, his tongue licking over your teeth and pushing against the roof of your mouth. Slowing his hips down to a slow grind, Wooyoung eased his throbbing length out of your fluttering hole when you weakly pushed against his shoulder, the overstimulation becoming too much.

“Holy fuck,” Wooyoung panted, tilting his head to look between your bodies at the liquid streaming down his legs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

He crouched with you in his arms and set your limp body down on the cold tile, watching you adjust yourself until you were on your knees. He cupped your face and kissed over the damp skin, licking up and sweat and drool and leaving line of his spit to reflect the white light shining over you. He waited for you to catch your breath, sucking the delicate skin of your neck into his mouth and admiring as a trail of blossoming bruises decorated it. He stood back up, holding your jaw in both hands and angling your head upwards to look into your eyes.

You couldn’t help but glance at his cock, the tip red and angry as it stood drenched in your arousal. Your mouth salivated at the sight and you reluctantly moved your eyes back to Wooyoung’s, being met with a knowing look and a sly smirk tugging at his lips.

“Feeling okay?” He stroked your jaw and you nodded, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips. “Can you help Youngie out for a little longer?”

You nodded again, more frantically this time, allowing Wooyoung to guide your mouth to his weeping cockhead with one hand, the other holding himself at the base. He watched you place a few kitten licks over his head, lapping up the precum beading at the tip before he grew impatient with the desperate need to cum. He moved the hand holding his dick, landing a few firm slaps onto your cheek, hard enough to catch your attention. “Are you gonna stop teasing? Or should I fuck your mouth until you’re choking on my cum?"

He huffed out a laugh when your eyes widened, nodding your head instantly and parting your lips without him prompting you to. Wooyoung’s thumb slid into your mouth and hooked into the corner, prying your lips open even wider. He leaned down, looking into your pleading eyes for a moment before pursing his lips and shooting a hot wad of spit onto your tongue, watching your throat bob as you swallowed it down without hesitation. Wooyoung’s cock twitched at the sinful moan that escaped your lips and echoed in the cramped bathroom, quickly straightening up and pushing himself into your mouth.

He slid his length along your flattened tongue, all the way down until his cockhead teased your uvula, reveling in the feeling of your throat constricting around him as you resisted the urge to gag.

“Fuuuuck- oh darling, you look even more beautiful with your mouth around my cock.” Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered shut for a few seconds as he held back from coming down your throat, the hand cradling your jaw sliding back to fist into the damp hair at your nape. He ran his thumb over the corner of your stretched lips, thrusting shallowly into your mouth and watching tears well up in your eyes. “Baby- ah, breathe through your nose for me,” he instructed, barely coherent as pleasure shot up his abdomen.

You did as he said, feeling so full of cock, the bitterness of his precum paired with the sweetness of your arousal overwhelming your taste buds. Once Wooyoung knew you could breathe, he began pistoning his hips into your mouth, moaning a series of curses when you gagged around him, his cock pushing into the back of your throat.

“Can you taste yourself on me, angel?” Wooyoung breathed out, leaning his forehead against the wall and looking down at you, taking in the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth and reemerging drenched in your spit. He heard you gargle a response, chuckling lowly as he drove his hips into your mouth once more before pulling out, grabbing your jaw roughly and snapping your head upwards, waiting for you to stop coughing before speaking. “Tell me how I taste, darling.”

“S-so good, Youngie,” you panted, voice hoarse and throat scratchy. “More- I want more, please-”

Wooyoung cursed under his breath, taking one more look at your face – eyes red and cheeks stained with tears, mouth swollen and spit dripping from your chin – before sheathing his cock inside your mouth once again, a throaty moan ripping out of him.

You moved your hand between your legs, swiping two fingers through your dripping folds to saturate them with your arousal, then brought them back up to circle around Wooyoung’s rim. You felt him stiffen up momentarily before leaning into your touch, making you dig your digits harder into his puckered hole as it clenched around nothing.

Wooyoung’s moans turned high-pitched and airy, his hips stuttering when you sunk your middle finger into his tight heat. You gave him a few shallow thrusts before slipping in your ring finger and curling them against his walls. Wooyoung’s thrusts lost their steady rhythm, his fingers tugging harshly at your drenched hair as your fingers found his prostate.

“Fuck! R-right there-” He panted, running his cockhead over the roof of your mouth before sinking it back into your throat. “So perfect- s-so perfect for me, my precious baby. Sh-shit!”

You moaned at the praise he was so generously giving you, your free hand grabbing a handful of his ass and spreading him open so you could pound him even harder, watching as Wooyoung fell apart every time you rammed your fingers into his swollen gland.

“Oh, fuck, shit- I’m so fucking close,” he moaned breathlessly, gagging you on his dick with every forceful thrust into your mouth. “Hnngh- T-take my cum, darling-”

His hips bucked into you once, twice, and he was emptying his load into your mouth, shooting hot ropes of cum down your throat. It was so much, and you struggled to breathe around the sheer about amount of cum he was shooting into your mouth, but Wooyoung was shuddering violently with the force of his orgasm, tugging at your hair to slide you over his length, milking himself of every last drop. Your fingers fucked him through it, shoved so deep inside Wooyoung to grind against his prostate, pulling moan after moan from his lips.

His muscles spasmed with overstimulation and he grabbed your wrist to still your movements, your fingers slipping out of him and giving his rim a few firm taps as it clenched and unclenched uselessly.

Wooyoung pulled you to your feet, wrapping you up in his arms and burying his face into your neck, peppering kisses over the heated skin. “I love you so much,” he nipped at your jaw. “My pretty angel,” his fingers gently massaged your scalp, contrasting the way he was mercilessly tugging at your hair earlier. “So perfect for me.”

Wooyoung moved his head closer to yours, his hot breath warming your flushed skin, and his eyes traveled down to your lips – wet and bitten, much like his own. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, leaning in and pressing his mouth to the top one, sucking it into his mouth. His other hand circled around you and pulled you closer with his palm on your ass until your hips were flush, swallowing the breathy moan you emitted into his mouth.

The sudden banging at the door startled the both of you, pulling away abruptly as an enraged, unfamiliar voice sounded on the other side of the door.

“Fucking hurry up! You’ve got a line of people about to piss their pants out here!”

“Get a room!” an equally displeased voice added

You stifled a laugh, watching as Wooyoung bit down on his bottom lip in a attempt to do the same. He leaned in, unbothered by the infuriated screaming outside, whispering in your ear. “Can I make you squirt again in the car?”

You grinned, holding his face in both hands and pressing a firm kiss to his lips, pulling away and looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“You read my mind.”

apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[theemporium]

just clicked through your mv33 core and I feel like, since max didn't really have a rebellious teen phase, reader doing funny stuff with him? maybe skinny dipping or shotgunning all the weird stuff one tries as teen

why would you hurt me like this?? i am so soft?? oh my god?? this could be like a whole series🤠anyways thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“This is stupid.” 

“It’s a pivotal part of teenage rebellion!” 

“Which teenager is stupid enough to do this?” 

“I did it when I was a teenager.” 

“I rest my case.”

You shot the boy a look, but he only grinned in response. 

When you were introduced to the world of Formula One, you had a million and one different people telling you what you should think of Max Verstappen. Whether it was journalists or paddock members or fans online, so many people were telling you what he was like. He was a villain, he was a cheat, he was everything bad with the sport. 

But when you met Max Verstappen, none of those words ever came to mind when you thought of him. 

He was blunt and straightforward with the words he spoke. But he was also undeniably caring and thoughtful. He cared deeply for the people close to him. He gave respect to everyone he met, regardless of their opinion on him. He was dedicated and hard-working, and it baffled you that this man was painted as the big, bad guy of Formula One.

The closer you got to the two-time world champion, the more you learned. There would be countless conversations where you would either find yourself on the phone to him or sat across from him on a hotel bed, legs crossed and smiles wide as you talking about anything and everything. 

When Max opened up about his childhood and lifestyle growing up, you don’t think he realised just how heartbreaking it was. He waved it all off, saying that was just how life was if you wanted to be a Formula One driver. But you didn’t buy it.

And you think, deep down, he knew that wasn’t very true either.

You wanted to change that. You wanted to give him back his years of lost childhood and teenage shenanigans, no matter how stupid or small and insignificant it may seem. You wanted to give him those memories, those experiences. And in all honesty, Max didn’t really care about it—but he liked having those experiences with you. 

“This just seems a bit pointless,” Max spoke up once again, his hands resting on his hips as he stared out at the dark water. “What do you gain from this?”

“An adrenaline rush and the thrill of hypothermia’s early stages,” you grinned back at him. “It never gets old, Verstappen. Skinny-dipping is a key experience everyone must partake in before they turn thirty.” 

Max narrowed his eyes at you. “Suddenly everything about you makes sense, Trouble.”

You grinned at the nickname. “Stop stalling, Max.” 

As much as he tried to avoid staring, he couldn’t help himself. His eyes were glued to you as he watched you pull your shirt over your head and dump it onto the sand beside you. Your shorts soon followed, and you were left in nothing but your bikini.

“Enjoying the view, Maxie?” 

His cheeks burned as he snapped his gaze away from you. He looked ahead of him, at the dark water. He could see the waves lapping against the sand, see the tide rise just before your feet before the water was dragged back in. But he couldn’t see the horizon any longer, not in the light of the moon and stars glittering in the sky.

Maybe that was what made it more thrilling. 

“Fine,” Max huffed before he pulled his shirt over his head. “Let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit, Verstappen!” 

Max wasn’t even sure what he would feel. He almost imagined an epiphany would hit him the second his body was submerged in the ocean water, that the burning desire to make all the memories you spoke about would become stronger. 

Instead, he was just painfully aware that he was naked in the ocean, with his best friend a few feet away, also naked and grinning at him like he meant something.

“Don’t you feel refreshed?” You called out to him, your arms swaying back and forth to stay afloat. 

“I feel like you might have had a more boring childhood than I did if this is what you did for fun,” he retorted, his lips twitching upwards when he heard you laugh. 

“This is only the beginning, Max,” you said to him, almost like your words were a promise. “We are going to give you the crazy teenage life you should have had.”

His smile was more sincere. “I can’t wait for you to show me the world, Trouble.”

.

[sevikaskittygf]

good luck, babe! [e.w x fem!reader.]

chapter one.

author's note!<3 - this is inspired by chappell roan's unreleased song good luck, babe! i lllloooovveee chappell roan! this was originally going to be just a LONG ASS one-shot but i don't think i can write any more tonight 😭😭 . BUT I REALLY WANNA PUBLISH IT SO HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS LIKE IT!!!! also forgive me if there's any grammar/spelling errors... i'm posting this at 12:59 am🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶 . reblogs and comments are SO appreciated!!! i busted my ass for y'all 🤗 .

content warnings - SLIGHT angst, reader has internalized homophobia and is outright homophobic to ellie, reader is in the closet, ellie is a lovergirl and she's going through the five stages of grief, modern!au, reader gets sexually assaulted/harrassed, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING ELSE!!!!

special thanks to!!!!: @sharkfemme and @dykedearest FOR HELPING ME OUT!!!!!! and also LYNN AND MAXIM!!! ALL FOUR OF YOU ARE AMAZING BETA READERS I'M KISSING YOU ALL THROUGH THE PHONE RN!!!

------------------------------------------------------------

it's fine, it's cool.

ellie's grip on her glass got impossibly tighter as her eyes never left your figure, your body swaying to whatever shitty mainstream pop music that was playing.

ellie williams hated secrets. she hated surprises, and she hated being in love with you.

she hated the way you would ghost her after spending a week at her apartment. she hated the way you would stop responding to her texts after you would leave. she hated the way she would let you back in when you needed her, she hated how much she loved to comfort you. she hated how gentle you were when it was just the two of you, compared to how cruel you got in public.

you can say that we ain't nothin' when you know the truth.

ellie took her hand off the glass and gripped the bar table instead, afraid that if she broke another glass she'd be banned from the bar.

you were like forbidden fruit to her, or maybe that was what she was to you.

she knew you weren't ready to come out of the closet. she understood that. so, why keep on playing this fucking game with her?

why did she even still feed into it?

i guess i'm, the fool.

the closet was made out of glass, really. you would stare at every woman's body that passed you, your eyes would scan up their short dress, she could see the curiosity and desire in your face.

but every single time after you two would hook up, there was always a new excuse.

"i'm not a fucking lesbian, ellie. i just... don't like men sometimes." sometimes?

"they're just stupid thoughts... it's not like i could ever be with a woman." but you had been. you had been with her.

"ok but... do you even count as a woman? you wear boxers, you don't even know the meaning of the term ladylike and... i don't know- look at your fuckin' hair! the closest you'd get is a transwoman." that one had hurt her. she didn't talk to you for a month after you made that comment. and then you appeared in her apartment complex hallway, sobbing hysterically.

and of course, she took you back.

like she always does.

with her arms out like an angel, through the car sun-roof.

she hated playing this fucking game with you. it was killing her.

every single time she'd see you at this bar, she imagined you dragging her onto the dancefloor. she imagined being able to walk out with your hand in her's, waking up to your groggy groans when the sun invaded the sacred space of your shared bedroom, you'd hide your face in her neck, mumbling something about, "shouldn't have drank that much last night."

every single time you pulled this shit on her, it felt like her already shattered heart broke off into impossibly tinier pieces.

"i wish you were a boy." crack.

"it's not easy for me like it is for you, els. i don't know the first thing about being proud of myself." crack.

"this hurts me more than you, baby." shattered. her heart was shattered.

it hurts you more than her?

the fucking audacity.

the nights she spent crying next to your sleeping figure.

the hours she'd spent texting you and checking her phone second after second after goddamn second.

the way she would ignore every single obligation she had to pick you up from whatever shit-hole situation you had found yourself in, immediately and happily dropping anything to make sure you were ok.

and it hurt you more than it hurt her?

you didn't know shit about hurt. about misery. about love.

i don't wanna cut it off!

her friends had told her to cut you off. her therapist said in his own professional shrink way that you would never be good for her. at least not while you weren't even good for yourself.

but she couldn't let you go. it seemed like every reason that she had to leave you, fuelled her determination to stay.

but you don't wanna call it love!

every single time you somehow broke her heart in a new way, she fell harder in love with you.

you just wanna love someone that calls you baby!-

ellie was pulled out of her internal anger when your eyes met hers. although it was only a few seconds ago, it felt like she was staring into your eyes for an eternity.

don't fuckin' wave, ellie. look away- LOOK AWAY. , she thought to herself as she was unable to look away from your beautiful irises.

you had this slight smile on your face, the dancefloor's led lights adding a shimmer to your already twinkling eyes.

it felt like her melancholy thoughts had lifted and increased all at the same time by the sight of you acknowledging her presence.

ellie went against her better judgement, her slender hand flying up to wave at you. her lips quirked upwards gently as she scanned your delighted face.

your light expression quickly turned into one of frustration, suppressing your grin with a tightening of your lips before pulling the nearest man close to you in for an unexpected kiss, opening your eyes once you knew the mystery man's were closed, locking your eyes onto ellie's before closing them once more.

the light had died in ellie's stomach after that. her happy hand that was raised in the air faltered painfully back to her side as she watched the man's hands roam down from your sides... to your waist... to your ass.

you can kiss a hundred boys in bars,

those butterflies that she had just felt in her tummy had died slowly, turning into knots of anguish.

she watched your hands cradle the man's face. those same hands that had counted each and every freckle on her face on a snowy morning that had you both stranded in her apartment.

those same hands that had a death-grip on her back as you sobbed into her shoulder every other weeknight as she tried to muffle her own cries.

those same hands that had shoved her violently as she finally tried to stand her ground one afternoon you showed up knocking on her door. "you know what... fuck you, ellie! i don't know why i keep on doing this shit with you anyways." you said, before storming off. you called her later that night. she answered. "i'm sorry, els. i'm sorry, i'll do better, i'm so sorry-" , "it's ok, baby. it's ok. i know you didn't mean it. you're ok baby, i forgive you."

shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling!

she would've stayed in that seat, stewed in her anger for a bit more before the tears inevitably came falling down if it wasn't for the way the dude's hands creeped under your skin-tight jeans and how you flinched away from his grasp, breaking the kiss immediately with a nervous giggle creeping up.

the guy obviously took it as an invitation to do more, placing his hand back on your waist and agressively pulling you closer.

you can say it's just the way you are,

ellie's head tilted as she watched this go down.

what she wanted to do was launch that creep into the nearest wall and make sure he never tainted your body again. but she didn't want to get up too soon, she wanted to be certain that you needed help, whether you wanted it or not.

your hand stopped him from coming any closer, placing it right before his chest. you said something along the lines of, "don't want to do anything." .

make a new excuse, another stupid reason-

instead of him being a decent human being and leaving you alone, his face quickly turned into one of anger. his jaw jutted out as he tried to pull you in again, leaving you thrashing against his body.

how was no one else seeing this? why was no one else doing anything?!

she didn't even have time to process what she was about to do. her feet were on the ground, marching their way towards you before she could even think about her course of action in a smart way.

"let me go, fuckin' creep!" she heard you shriek as she grew closer to you, attempting to elbow him in the chest.

ellie felt like no matter how fast she was walking, she would never make it to you in time.

he laughed tauntingly as he grinded against. "i'm the creep, bitch?! you kissed me f-"

his last word was stolen from him as ellie forcefully pushed him off you with and landed a blow against his nose.

he groaned in pain, falling to the ground as he cradled his now-broken-nose.

you gasped in shock and horror. "what the fuck, ellie?!" you scolded her. as if you would've been fine on your own.

she ignored your words though, pulling the guy's hand away as she forced another punch to his face.

now people were finally looking.

she didn't stop until she felt your hands on her stomach, pulling her away from the scene.

"she fuckin'... said... no!..." ellie's voice thundered, erratic breaths in between her words before bringing one last painful kick to his face before letting you lead her out of the bar and into the night air.

you didn't stop even after you two were at the entrance door of the establishment, you made sure the two of you were far enough away that ellie wouldn't be caught if the police were called.

she couldn't help but feel those stupid fucking butterflies again as your hand gripped hers and felt a little disappointed when you dropped it, suddenly all too aware that you were still in public.

her green eyes met your own, yours filled with anger and chaos... hers filled with love.

"hey, swan." the auburnette sighed out simply, that stupid love-grin back on her face as she was finally close to you.

your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as your hands went to massage your temples. you let out a humorless giggle. "you're so... fucking stupid, ellie!" you exclaimed, shoving her chest as if she was in the wrong.

her grin turned into a confused frown as she surrendered her hands in the air, her eyebrows mirroring your own now. "wh-wh....what-"

good luck, babe!

"god, you have this severe goddamn saviour complex or some shit!... i was fine! i was fucking fine on my own before you marched in and assaulted that guy."

well good luck, babe!

you gaslighted beautifully, defending the man you knew nothing about over the woman who was fatally in love with you, she almost believed you.

ellie's frown turned into an angry smile as she brought a hand to gently wipe over the bridge of her nose, a mannerism of her's she had developed whenever she got frustrated with you.

"assau-... ok, sure-... you wanna talk about assault, baby? that fuckin' guy would've assaulted you if i didn't step in. he was assaul-"

you shut your eyes tightly the way you do when you wanted to block something out that ellie was obviously right about. you shook your head stubbornly. "gggoddd ellie- it was my fault! i wanted it and then i didn't. i shouldn't have- i shouldn't have kissed him in the first place. i gave him mixed signals, i-"

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling!-

your eyebrows grew dangerously closer to your face as you cradled your head in your hands.

ellie was quick to walk right back to you, caressing your arms.

"what? baby, no. no, it's not your fault... that- that fuckin' guy... hey... look at me, sweetheart." she cooed lovingly.

good luck, babe!

you slowly brought your hands away from your face, meeting her breathtaking green eyes.

you wanted to fall into her arms, you wanted to thank her for coming to your rescue and kiss her and confess to her how scared you truly were.

but you didn't. you never did.

your slightly calm expression that came over you once you met your secret lover's gaze turned into one of annoyance. ellie was, like always, taken by surprise as you thrashed against her grip, just like the way you did with that monster in the bar.

good luck, babe!

ellie's eyes blurred with tears as she watched your face turn into a grimace.

"fuck you, ellie." you said quietly as you broke free from her hands, storming off into the night. leaving her. like always.

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Hellfire (Priest! Miguel O’Hara x Demon! Fem! Reader) one shot

Oooooo Im very happy about this one. Based of the song from the hunchback of Norte dame. No idea how this got to the word count it did lol. Not proofread.

Religious imagery(Catholicism specifically), questioning of faith, the lyrics of the song does contain a certain that can be seen as distasteful/offensive, reader is a demonic entity (almost like a succubus), nsfw content but no smut (mdni), semi-dub con(???) (reader trying to convince Miguel to give into her, but it’s mostly teasing touches and stuff.), cursing, mentions of hell.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Word count: 2.6K

Masterlist

—

Confiteor deo

Omnipotenti

Beatae Mariae

Semper virgini

Beato Michaeli archangelo

Sanctis apostolis

Omnibus sanctis

—

With a heavy sigh, Miguel placed his rosary and his bible on his office’s desk. Another Sunday completed, all the services for the day were finished, along with clean up and the classes for the kiddos. It was now getting dark, the sun setting, leaving a beautiful painting of pink and orange hues in the sky. The church bells struck once, twice, three times, then one last time, signifying another hour having passed as Miguel put on his winter coat and gloves, because surely,it was still snowing outside , his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the empty ancient church. He stops at the start of the wooden pews, turning towards the front and placing his right hand to the top of his forehead.

“En el nombre del Padre.” (In the name of the father.)

His hand travels to the middle of his chest.

“Y del Hijo.” (The son)

To his left shoulder.

“Y del Espíritu…” (And the holy…)

To his right shoulder.

“Santo, Amén.” (spirit, Amen.)

Lastly, he brings his hand up and places a gentle kiss on the side of it, his eyes never leaving the stain glass portrait of the Virgin Mary that hung in the middle of the top of the stage as he said the prayer, before turning back around and exiting the church, a familiar sense of dread filling his chest as he closes the door behind him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud (et tibit pater)

—

Miguel couldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t sleep.

He rubs his large hands over his face, his eye bags have been getting darker lately, he’s been lacking energy, and thanks to the little sleep he’s been receiving, it was only making it harder for him to fight off the temptation of sin. But it’s not like he could have a full night's rest, not when… Miguel shook his head in an attempt to rid the vile and unholy thoughts. Maybe tonight will be different, that was the lie he told himself every night.

Miguel placed his toothbrush back into the little blue cup onto his bathroom sink, bringing up a small, white hand towel to clean off the excess water that was spread on his lips, and began to run down his chin and onto his neck.

what a delicious sight.

Once he finally finished cleaning up the water on his chin, he dragged the towel over his sink counter to clean the water he had spilled while brushing, before placing it back on its little hook and exited the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Maybe he wouldn’t have the same problem every night if he didn’t look so tempting, only sleeping in gray sweatpants.

He does a once-over of his house, making sure all the doors and windows are locked. Before finishing stopping in front of his bedroom, freezing right before the threshold of the door. His hands go up and join together in a praying signal, whispering for protection under his breath.

Like that’s ever helped him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd (quia peccavi nimis)

—

The second he took the step into his bedroom, he felt a shiver run down his back. It felt like the temperature dropped once he walked in, he swore if he focused hard enough, he’d be able to see his own breath.

Despite his fight or flight senses screaming at him to run, he continued to venture further into his master bedroom. A simple wooden cross with golden accents hung over his bed, his eyes fixated on it. Miguel O’Hara, was a man of faith, he had to be in order to be the priest of his community’s church. He’s poured his whole life, soul and being into his religion, having been raised catholic since he was a mere infant. So why was it that every night, when he’d stared at the cross over his bed, the one that was supposed to protect him, did he start to doubt?

—

Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there?

Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? (cogitatione)

—

It always started the same.

He’d sleep somewhat soundly for a good amount of the night, once he was able to get his mind to stop racing.

He looked so adorable asleep, despite his colossal size.

He moves a lot, so his bed always becomes a bit disheveled, a pillow on the floor or a blanket halfway off the bed. Some light snores and some drool dripping out the corner of his mouth.

How could such a holy man be so delicious looking?

It was 3 am. Witching hour.

“Wake…”

“… up~”

“Wake up.”

—

I feel her, I see her

The sun caught in her raven hair

Is blazing in me out of all control (verb o et opere)

—

Miguel’s eyes shot open. Chest heaving as he takes rapid short breaths, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes darting around his dark room in an attempt to find the source of the voice, only lifting his head as he did so.

He knew you were here.

Finally he finds a pair of dark glowing eyes at the foot of his bed, how did he miss it in the first place? He chalks it up to panic. A silence fell over the two of you for what felt like hours, an all too familiar sense of panic (and to Miguel’s horror, slight arousal) filled his senses. Finally, you break the silence.

“My my my… if it isn’t my favorite priest…” You said in a sing-songy tone, as you slowly climbed onto the bed, making Miguel’s stomach twist. He should push you off of him, he should banish you to the depths of hell, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for some reason. He was paralyzed. You stopped crawling once you were fully over him. “Oh father… help me for I have sinned.” You said in a mocking tone, a shiver ran down his back once again as he let out a shaky breath, feeling your sharp fingernails trail down his chest, and stopping at the waistband of his sweats tugging at the band slightly.

—

Like fire

Hellfire

—

Finally coming to his senses, (much to your dismay) he finally pushes off you. Landing on the floor to the left side of the bed, with a small “oof” as he quickly scrambled to the over side of the bed in or to create distant between the two of you.

“Get out.” Miguel growled as he readjusted his sweats. You didn’t respond, rather, you brought your hand up to move some hair that had gotten into your face as you slowly walked around the bed and towards him. You looked how you always did when you would visit him. You could even be mistaken for a human if it weren’t for the horns, the wings and the long nails.

“Don’t act like that now, father. Aren’t you tired of this little game we play every night?” You asked with a head tilt, continuing to walk towards him as you spoke, your sentence coming out slow and drawn out, your tone nothing but pure seduction. Miguel closes his eyes as if they would deafen your words. Every step you take forward, he takes one back, before the back of his knees eventually hits the back of his bedside table, his hands going behind him to help stabilize himself to keep from falling back on top of it. “You pretend you don’t enjoy this-“

“I don’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you hard, father?” You smirked as you spoke., eyes drifting down to a very visible bulge in his sweats. “Have I finally done my job? Will this be the night you fall victim to temptation?” You said in a surprised, yet smug tone. Miguel felt his face burn up, a hand going behind him in search of something. “I will say, you do look quite handsome on your knees. I can give you something so much better to worship than God. You just have to give in to me, give in, father. Give in. Give in. Give in. Give. In.” You chant those two words like a mantra, your eyes begin to glow as you got closer, you were at arms length now. Your steps and words came to a sudden halt.

—

This fire in my skin

This burning desire

Is turning me to sin

—

Your eyes narrowed at the rosary Miguel was holding up in front of you in an attempt to protect himself from you.

“That’s not a very nice way to treat your guest.”

“You’re lucky I don’t banish you back to hell where you belong.” His words make you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you would never. You and I both know that. Now put that thing down so I can corrupt my favorite human.” You attempted to move closer, only for him to double down. “Tell me Miguel, if you were really gonna ‘banish’ me or whatever. Why haven’t you done so already? I’ve been coming to you for a few weeks now? If you really wanted to get rid of me for good, you would have done so already. You’re a priest for god’s sake-“

“Don’t you dare use the Lord’s name in vain.”

“I’m a demon.” You deadpanned.

He hated to admit that you were right, he hated that he knew that you were. He’s surprised that you haven’t gotten bored in this game of cat and mouse yet. Every night you would appear in his room at the sametime, attempting to seduce him while he spat empty threats at you. Why hasn't he just gotten rid of you yet? It’s not like he doesn’t have the power to do so or the equipment. Maybe he was going insane, maybe he was losing it, or maybe…

No. He couldn’t.

He can’t just throw away his whole life’s work just because a demon who happened to be conventional pretty keeps pestering every night. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to temptation. He wouldn’t allow himself to be corrupted by your glowing eyes that seem like they could stare into his soul forever, or your sultry voice that made his heart skip a beat, your plump lips that would pull up into a smirk whenever you’d question him, how the say you would tilt your head made him weak in the knees- oh how he wish he could worship your body on his knees like you were a goddess- no, fuck.

“Get out.” Miguel repeated, his voice becoming tighter, his knuckles turning white. He takes a step forward, you take one back and frown. “Get. Out!”

He blinks, you're gone.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

I'm not to blame (mea culpa)

It is the gypsy girl the witch who sent this flame (mea maxima culpa)

—

It’s been a few weeks since your last visit, much to Miguel’s surprise. He should be relieved, he should be thanking the heavens up above that he was finally able to extract such a vile presence from his life, he doesn’t feel a pit in his stomach when he enters his own home anymore, it doesn’t feel like the temperature in his room is 20 degrees colder than it is in the hallway leading into it anymore, he doesn’t feel like like there’s this constant ghost lingering over his shoulder anymore. So why wasn't he at peace?

Your lack of presence was almost just as unbearable. In a twisted way, he became accustomed to it. Maybe this was another of your tricks, attempting to perform classic conditioning on him. Get him used to you by the constant attention from your nightly visits, butter him up despite his protest, making his body burn up with the way your touch lingers on his body too long, the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you lick your lips, the way the word father would leave your lips in a way that made it sound like you’ve just sinned and he was the only one who could help you reach eternal salvation again, just to pull it all away from him within a snap of a finger to see how long it would take for him to crumble. You were Pavlov, and Miguel was just the dog whose mouth started to water at the sound of a bell.

The church was empty besides himself, he was kneeling before the crucifix that was placed next to the portrait of the Virgin Mary, eyes closed, his hands folded together in a fist as he he dips his head down, nose touching his hands as he silently prayed for forgiveness for allowing you to slowly chip away at his self-restraint. He heard the large front door open, he didn’t open his eyes but his head came up as he spoke.

“I’m sorry my child, the church is closed.”

“I needed to see you though, father.”

Miguel’s eyes snapped open. He knew that voice all too well.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

If in God's plan (mea culpa)

He made the Devil so much stronger than a man (mea maxima culpa)

—

“How-“ Miguel was stunned, not only have you reappeared after weeks, you were also standing inside of a church, his church. You looked so beautiful, you looked like an actual human, your nails, although still sharp and point looked more like acrylics rather then claws, you weren’t dawning your bat-like wings and your horns weren’t poking out of your hair, if Miguel had passed by you on the street, he’d be none the wiser. It only made him crack more, imagining what it would be like in a different world where there wasn’t shame and taboo keeping him away from you. Where you aren’t a soulless, heartless creature. “How’s you get in here?” He finally got the question out, his eyes narrowed into slits as he took a step back, almost fumbling his footing and tripping.

“We can enter churches if we find a weak point.” You stated as you made your way towards him, Miguel’s eyes dropped instantly to your hips, how they swayed with each step you take, his mouth went dry and he instinctively licked his lips. “I wonder what that weak point is?” You teased as you stopped in front of him, your lips pulling up into a smirk.

—

Protect me, Maria

Don't let this siren cast her spell

Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone

Destroy Esmeralda

And let her taste the fires of hell

Or else let her be mine and mine alone

—

He don’t know how it happened, one minute he was standing face to face in front of you, then the next, you both were in his office in the back of the church, you were sitting on top of his desk as he kneeled in front of you, his rough hands wondering and running around your legs, and he planted soft light kisses all over them. In between each one, he’d whispered a small pile of forgiveness from God, but he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

—

Hellfire

Darkfire

Now gypsy, it's your turn

Choose me or your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

—

“You never told me your name…” Miguel mumbled into your skin, his face buried against your inner thigh as he looked up at you.

“You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my actual name. Just… call me (Y/N).” You cooed as you ran a hand through his hair, before bringing it down to his cheek. Miguel leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He was completely and utterly yours now.

“(Y/N)…” He whispered the name like a prayer.

—

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on her

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on me

Kyrie eleison

But she will be mine

Or she will burn

[kociamieta]

Favorite iterator maybe possibly??

For doodle suggestions uωu

sitcom laugh track plays. i am shot and dragged off the stage <- can’t choose favorites