#Elephant Tattoos Man

[epigstolary]

Tough Guy

Tw: Fat shaming, toxic masculinity, gaining as femininity

I can’t believe you still try to act like the big, muscly tough guy you used to be several hundred pounds ago. I mean, come on, who do you think you’re fooling? You’re about as intimidating as a baby elephant. Sure, the deep voice and the sleeve tattoos probably probably made you look pretty tough when you were in shape and 200lbs of muscle; but baby, those days are long gone. There’s a ton of fat packed onto whatever’s left of your physique under there. Those tattoos have gotten stretched and folded over your fat rolls so much that I can barely tell what they are anymore. And I just can’t take the deep voice seriously when it comes out so husky in between the labored wheezing that passes for breathing with you. Nobody’s gonna be shaking in their boots when you’re out of breath just from sitting on the couch, are they?

And even when you do get up, you don’t exactly look like the picture of health and fitness. A slow waddle is your typical pace, all your fat shifting from side to side with each intended step, your body clearly having to fight against it to keep moving forward. And all your indulgence has left you with a wide, bottom-heavy, pear-shaped physique more reminiscent of a well-fed housewife than a strong, buff gymbro. Nobody’s going to be mistaking you for one anyway, though, since your lazy ass can’t help but get red-faced and exhausted after just a couple minutes of walking around. You talk a big game about your glory days and everything you could do if you put some time into conditioning. But let’s face it: you’re about as out of shape as someone can be, and those wide hips and thunder thighs don’t scream athletic or manly.

I know it must be hard for you, though, since that’s still the guy you are in your head. The big, beer-drinking, meat-eating, football-watching manly man. Well, you missed the part where all that beer had a ton of calories, all that meat had a ton of fat, and all that football left your fattening ass planted on the couch all weekend, every weekend. I totally thought you were going to say something eventually about not needing me to bring you so much to drink and so many snacks, but nope, you never seemed to notice that you’d worked yourself up to eating an entire party’s worth of food all on your own between Saturday morning and Sunday night. And it’s not like I was going to stop you, was I?

I’d have thought your bros teasing you about how fat you were getting would be enough for you to at least start thinking about it, too. They may not be the cut jocks they were when you were younger, but aside from a couple with dadbods, they’re all in reasonably good shape. But not you. And you let them pat and rub your belly to put you in your place every time they come over to watch the game, take their jokes about how the blobby flab inflating your arms is all muscle, let them snicker at you for finishing off the food they leave behind to keep to their diets. You think you’re still just one of the boys, when really you’re more like their fat, chubby mascot.

So here you sit, munching on nachos swimming in beef queso, eyes glued to the third match of the day. Love handles bulging over the waistband of your athletic shorts, overtaxed by the titanic rump, bulging hips, and bloated thighs anchoring you to your seat. Tits flopping across your beer belly as you shout at the refs on tv. Chubby, shapeless arms wobbling with your gestures as you criticize guys in peak physical condition, lecturing about how they should be playing when thirty seconds of that level of activity would leave you panting on the ground. And me, just smiling and nodding and agreeing, knowing those 2,500 calories of goo are going to be blowing you up even more by tomorrow.

This can’t last forever, of course. Eventually, you’ll wind up so fat, heavy, and hard to move that you won’t be able to ignore how far you’ve fallen. You’ll have to confront the (at least) quarter-ton body you’ve grown, and consider how blubbery you were when it stopped being manly. Spoiler alert: you passed that point a looooong way back. You’ll face the fact that there’s nothing masculine about a guy whose manhood is buried in several inches of soft, yielding lard. That there’s nothing macho about a guy who has to move fat out of the way so he can reach for the remote or his next meal. That nobody envies a former athlete who’s so bloated and heavy he can barely make it to the mailbox and back. That you’ve eaten yourself out of everything you used to know about yourself.

But don’t worry; I’ll still pretend you’re my manly man, and you’ll eat that up too so you don’t have to pay attention to the last of your fitness slipping away. I’ll tell you that you look so big and strong, while you’re shoveling those pork rinds into your mouth. I’ll giggle that you seem so tough and stoic, while you’re planted on the couch, huge fat rolls flowing in all directions. I’ll whisper that you’re still so fit and athletic, after you come back huffing and puffing from hauling your big back from the next room. I’ll say all the things you want to hear. Just keep eating for me, baby. I want my tough guy to be big, and strong… and big.

[kirsteng42]

He has the most magnificent legs, plus we have the bullseye and 1 of his elephant tattoos on show and they look so soft and smooth too.

The amount of time I have spent thinking about this picture over the last two years is not insignificant

[muzansfangs]

Heh... Gonna send a thirst here of course for my baby girl ge- Sukuna, I love sukuna, I know he's bad I know he's killed millions of people, but come on guys, he's just a girl, he's just a silly little girl that may or may not have traumatized millions if not billions, I can honestly picture sukuna being a person too man handle his Beloved a lot, like picking them up by the back of their shirt maybe throwing them over his shoulder when he's bored or just wants them around, also I can definitely see him sitting his beloved on his shoulder while fighting others, because he knows they won't get hurt, not when he's around, also I know damn well he has two (≧∇≦)/

Handling his girl.

Starring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader;

Format: drabble;

Warnings: nsfw, language, manhandling the partner, bruises, creampie, hint to double penetration, Sukuna has two cocks, kind of yandere behavior, red flag, slightly controlling tendecies, if you squint objectification;

Plot: Basically, this is Ryomen Sukuna dealing with the girl who sticks around with him.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Sukuna. Ryomen Sukuna. Massive body, giant menace terrorizing every human being and curse existing, a brute, a man who often showed up at your door reassuring you that the dried blood on his skin was not his. Crimson bloodshot eyes capable to stay vivid in the memory of his victims, he terrorized everyone around him, probably even purposefully. However, not you. He had no interest to scare you away.

You piqued his curiosity, you could not leave his side.

There were very few selected people that had impressed him in his long life and you were certainly one of them. Congratulations, honey. Or, as sorcerers would say, ‘sincere condolences’. Your beauty whetted his appetites, without the shadow of a doubt, but what had always kept him around you was the fact you were, in terms of stature and weight, the equivalent of a small kitten to an elephant. No matter how tall and strong you were, you would have always looked small to his eyes.

If you expected him to be a knight in a shiny armor, hopping down from his white purebred, you were oh so wrong. The fact that he was, as a matter of fact, the person you were dating, did not mean he was going to reserve you a special treatment. Your head was still secured over your shoulders, of course, but he was born to yank you towards him roughly, to haul you over his shoudler whilst walking, or if you needed to distance yourself from a possible dangerous situation.

He did not want you to get hurt. A broken toy was not fun after all, was it?

He always came up with the perfect excuses to unceremoniously grip you by your hips and hoist you over his broad, tattooed shoulders.

“Your legs are too little to run for miles. You’d end up dead”.

Clinging onto him for dear life, feet kicking the air, you were often silenced by harsh spanks making you jolt forwards, stomach flexing as you recoiled like a hedgehog. How dare you being a pest? He was involved in the middle of a serious conversation with a man he was going to dismember. Woman, what exactly were you doing?

And what was that? Were you really trying to run away from him after a silly argument? If you did not change your mind and came back to him, apologetically hugging his knees, you were met with a leash and collar. He did not particularly like the idea of having you trail behind him like a lapdog. He was so used to have you sitting comfortably over his shoulder that he had startedd calling you his little ‘parakeet’.

All of his manhandling left bruises on you. He never apologized, after all he did not beat you up. Those were the effects of being simply gripped too harshly by his huge hands to tug you back against his chest… Or what came along by sexually satisfying the King of Curses.

Mindblowing sex that left you sore for, at least, a couple of days. Your muscles were on fire, you core enduring that dull pain that lingered over the area after rough sessions. The sadist man you were involved with loved having you ride him to exhaustion.

“Jump on it. Come on, take it all. I know you can. Yeah, look at this greedy pussy sucking me in, tsk. Be good and I’ll give you the second one too” he cooed, grasping your chin roughly as you struggled to move up and down his length.

And, when he told you he was going to give you the second one, you always left the room limping around. Wrecked, you were in a desperate need of a bath. Being folded in half, stuffed full, sticky, you knew your life was not easy. Still, you were probably the closest thing to a ‘friend’ and ‘girlfriend’ he had ever had.

This was how he handled you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Not a big fan of Sukuna, but I believe this little shit is kind of fun to write for! I hope you liked this small thirst. See you in the next ones! Likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated!💫

Luce

[queerfables]

This came up in my recent discussion with @indigovigilance, but for my own reference, I wanted to make a dedicated post about it.

Fandom speculation in the wake of season 2 has pointed to the themes of deception, sleight of hand and memory tampering to suggest there's an unsolved mystery woven through the season that we can piece together with the right evidence. I think there's a solid case for this, but I also think it's possible we've been deliberately lead into overthinking things.

Crowley and Aziraphale's conversation about Clues-with-a-captial-C is a reference to Terry Pratchett's iconic Discworld detective, Samuel Vimes. Vimes is skeptical about Clues. He considers assembling a singular, intricate explanation that accounts for every available piece of evidence a great way to end up with a theory that is enormously clever and completely off base.

From Feet of Clay:

Samuel Vimes dreamed about Clues. He had a jaundiced view of Clues. He instinctively distrusted them. They got in the way. And he distrusted the kind of person who’d take one look at another man and say in a lordly voice to his companion, “Ah, my dear sir, I can tell you nothing except that he is a left-handed stonemason who has spent some years in the merchant navy and has recently fallen on hard times,” and then unroll a lot of supercilious commentary about calluses and stance and the state of a man’s boots, when exactly the same comments could apply to a man who was wearing his old clothes because he’d been doing a spot of home bricklaying for a new barbecue pit, and had been tattooed once when he was drunk and seventeen and in fact got seasick on a wet pavement. What arrogance! What an insult to the rich and chaotic variety of the human experience!

From the Fifth Elephant:

Mr. Vimes had told him never to get too excited about clues, because clues could lead you a dismal dance. They could become a habit. You ended up finding a wooden leg, a silk slipper and a feather at the scene of a crime and constructing an elegant theory involving a one-legged ballet dancer and a production of Chicken Lake.

Coupled with the conspicuous barrel of red herrings in the opening credits, I have to wonder if the show, while teasing the possibility of a mystery, is explicitly telling us not to look too hard. I'm not ruling out some kind of twist, but I'm inclined to think that for this story, theories are strongest when they rely on only a few pieces of evidence and follow a clear, straightforward narrative. If there is something still hidden in season 2, maybe it's not an elaborate puzzle but a simple misdirect.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Who in Elephant is the most unexpected person to have any piercings? Who has the most, or the 'weirdest' one? And, of course, who has the most ostentatious jewellery, regardless of where it is or whether anyone actually sees it.

@brighteyedbadwolf and I share a headcanon that once he started running out of tattoo room, Renji got into body piercings in a big way, and also learned the value of moderation so he's gotten some interesting piercings done, but has learned to savor them and only get one done every few years.

His most recent ornament is a tongue piercing and 9/10ths of the fun has been seeing how long he can keep it a secret. It's surprisingly easy- he's picked up Byakuya's habit of not moving his lips much when speaking at an interpersonal distance, and only raising his voice when people are actually far enough away to warrant yelling.

Several people noticed immediately but didn't say anything because it's not, strictly speaking, their business what Renji recreationally does with his body unless he needs medical attention for it, and because Retsu also wants to see how long Renji can keep it a secret and what the fallout will be like when it inevitably gets out.

Ikkaku was the first to call him out because his little kohai was looking just a bit to smug about something, and when he refused to say what, Ikkaku took a shot in the dark that squarely hit its target. Ikkaku is now also seeing how long before it really gets out, but has perhaps been selectively hastening the process by telling certain people.

Shuuhei didn't call Renji out, but during a lieutenant's meeting, Shuuhei heard the rather distinctive *click* of metal on Renji's teeth, and fixed him with a nonjudgmental, but extremely knowing stare.

Renji is... pretty sure Byakuya hasn't noticed yet. He's hard to read at the best of times, and Renji is privy to the bizarre oceans of stuff Byakuya has somehow remained ignorant of, like dinosaurs. He's sure his boss will have something to say about workplace-appropriate attire when he finds out.

Pretty sure.

Byakuya is also not a snitch- he saw Ichigo's hollow mask transformation and kept his mouth shut tighter than a bear trap about it.

Actually.

Byakuya keeps his mouth shut all the time both figuratively and literally. Almost doesn't move his lips when speaking, and only opens his mouth maybe half an inch, even when he raises his voice. Renji has never actually seen his molars, let alone most of his boss and prospective brother-in-law's tongue.

Could he..? No, that's much too scandalous for him.

...right?

Rukia has managed to remain oblivious to not only all of Renji's hardware thus far, but is actually ignorant of the lower 56% of Renji's ink as well. As emotionally close as they are, she doesn't actually spend that much time in close physical proximity to him anymore, and her mental image of Renji is about six major changes out of date.

She *has* noticed that Byakuya gets a small dessert- something soft and meant to be savored, like a single slice of cheesecake, every year on April 6th, which isn't the anniversary of anything she can find. Nobody he knows was born, got married or died on that day, she knows he and Hisana started "courting" in the middle of July so it's not that, and it doesn't seem to be a sad date for him- if anything, he seems ever-so-slightly pleased, perhaps even a bit smug, whenever he sits down in the garden and takes three hours to eat that tiny wedge of cake. According to the house staff, he's been doing this for over fifty years now, and this befuddles her, but Byakuya is a singularly inscrutable man sometimes, and she is not about to deny him whatever small, harmless joy this is.

For his part, Byakuya is very pleased with how well his two stainless steel studs have held up over the years, enjoys taking some time to really savor the feeling of them by taking a long time to enjoy a bit of dessert on the anniversary he got them, and is still deciding on the funniest time to ask Renji where he got his piercing done, so that they may compare notes.

He's tentatively considering the day after Renji and Rukia inevitably announce that they are expecting their first child- a date some time off as the two are not, strictly speaking, engaged yet, but Byakuya is as certain of that event's coming as he is of the sunrise- both because it will be a humorously long time to have kept that secret, and Byakuya estimates that at that point, Renji will be in the first throes of impending fatherhood panic, and could probably use a distraction.

Byakuya is very fond of his prospective brother-in-law, and thinks this is a good way to demonstrate his affection.

[timetravellibrarian]

Zoro x reader

Soulmate AU

Summary: A man seeks to follow his dreams, following only the path his swords carve for him and wherever his crew goes. Little does he know that the missing piece in his life, his soulmate whom he doesn't admit that he tries to seek would end up in a love-hate relationship.

Chapter Two

_________________________________________

"Your Grace. I present to you, Prince Cassius of the Arkand." The royal Stewart announced.

You sat beside your older sisters. Your brothers sitting beside your father. Being the middle child of five children really put you in the position to get married off, seeing as there was no hope of gaining the throne.

Prince Cassius' escorts had entered the grand throneroom. They came in with a flurry of green and blue, representative of their kingdom's dominant colours.

You were surprised at how they managed to fit a large elephant carrying the said prince, it's back decorated with soft rugs and golden jewels. Your eyes went up and met with fiery brown ones, his smile breaking out at the sight of you scanning his features. Dark hair with skin kissed by the sun. It was a mystery to you on how he hadn't been married years earlier even if he was the same age if not a bit older than you.

The elephant stopped in front of the throne and the prince slid down the elephant without any hassle as though he usually did so daily. The rest of his people followed behind as he walked up to the steps that led to where the royals sat and bowed.

There was a small silence as your father looked over towards your future husband and his parade. He stood up, leading everyone present to stamd up.

"It is an honour to have you present." Your father said, his eyes still cold yet welcoming.

"No your majesty, it is my honour," The prince replied with a silky voice, his eyes glancing at you before a small smirk graced his features," You have allow us to take care of one of the many flowers in your beautiful garden."

You quirked an eyebrow in thought, 'Do I go through photosynthesis too?'

"We hope to nurture and care for her as much as you and your kingdom have, if not, more."

Your father chuckled," I am glad to hear that, bit for now, onto the celebrations. I hear your father may come in later since he's handling another matter."

"He will Your Grace, and he sends his regards as well as apologies for being late."

Your father nodded before gesturing to your kingdom's stewart," Lead them to the dining hall. They had a long journey, they must be hungry."

Soon the visitors from Arkland had followed the man. Their servants heading out to place the large and cute elephant somewhere it could rest. Your father made his way with your mother in hand. Your brother's trailing behind with their own swagger. Your sisters taking a glance at you with a small smile before heading to the dining hall.

Lyra almost seemed to magically appear beside you as you walked," So, what do you think?"

You looked at her," Judging by the fact that he looks like God took his time to make him and that he only gets a wife now, I may be dealing with either a hoe or a Draco Malfoy."

"Actually your highness, people of Arkland are only allowdyto marry from the moment they reach 18. He's had two years to find a wife and only now accepts a partner. " Lyra stated.

"Still doesn't change the–"

"I also hear that he's one of the many who don't have a soulmate mark. Rumours speculate that whoever it would have been must've died long before he could meet them."

Your eyes widened in shock and a bit of empathy started to form withing your heart. How much it like to not have known or felt a soulmate mark on your body. No red string, no tattoo, no initial..

"Well, maybe I'll be a bit kinder then." Your hand went to the sting you felt in the initial on your wrist, pulse beating through it. 'What if whoever they are is hurt?'

The thougt had come one evening when the supposed initial had seemed to fade a bit but now it was darker than it was.

_________________________________________

Zoro had enough. Not only did he feel a weird sense pulsating through his body, hos eyes were searching around for where everyone went. It felt like he was going in circles.

In truth he was lost trying to find where the Arlong Pirates were. Again. Nami had set him free and now that the truth about her having saved Ussop from dying at the hands of the fishmen reviving everyone's hope to save her. But his navigational skills were nonexistent so he resolved to finding someone he knew.

He caught sight of Sanji lighting one of his cigarettes. Approaching the cook he saw Luffy in the distance, without his hat. Nami beside him.

'Im guessing it's time to fight, properly.'

He disregarded the feel of his wounds aching after his fight with Mihawk a few days ago. Now was not the time to lick wounds. It was time to save a friend.

_________________________________________

@mythicallystupid

@mars-mizuko

[harrysarchive]

so you wanna

marry me?: h.s.

pairing:

tattooartist!harry x baker!reader

warnings:

smut 18+ please, h eating out reader that's it, oral (f receiving) in a tattoo parlour (scandalous;) ) .

summary:

"but what if i wanted to propose to you? wanna get you ya dream ring bee." he grabs ahold of my hands and brings them to his lips pressing kisses on my knuckles.

i pull my hands away and grab ahold of his face and pull him in for a kiss, " i'd marry you with a ring for the coin machine at the pizza place down the street."

or

harry's overworking himself for money to afford for the future.

or

another adventure with tattooartist!harry x baker!reader.

p.s.a. want it to be known that h and bee have been dating for about 3 years in this one shot🫶🏽

𝐘/𝐍'𝐒

𝐏𝐎𝐕

i let out a string of hums as i walk over towards harry's tattoo parlour, a pip in my step. i decided to bring him lunch knowing he likes to over work himself. (especially on fridays and saturdays knowing those are his busiest day's.) letting out a sigh of relief when i see the parlour the dark colours contrast with the lighter coloured buildings. i walk into the building and see all black walls with plants hanging and placed on counters. niall is the the first person i see and i greet him with a wide smile.

"hey ni!" i muse to him and he smiles at me.

"hey bee, how's it goin'?"

"good, brought har some lunch."

"oh he's with a client but you can go ahead," he pointed to harry's private room, "did you bring me anything ?" he sassed crossing his arms over his chest.

"ya didn't ask for anything." i huff rolling my eyes and walking towards harry's office.

as i get closer to the room an obnoxiously loud laugh echos through the halls. oh great another flirty girl trying to get her way with my man. i decide to knock on the door and harry lets out a curse.

"who the fuck is it?" he snaps before the doors thrown open and his glare is set on me before it melts into a smile.

"brought you lunch asshole." i chuckle holding up the bag of takeout.

"thank you m' heart. come in." he move to the side and i slipped through the door.

my eyes land on the obnoxious loud girl, blonde hair, petite shape, lululemon jacket and shorts. she raises an eyebrow at me before asking, "who are you? this is a private appointment."

"she's my girlfriend." harry answers pulling out a rollie chair he has in the closet that he got for me.

the chair looks odd in the dark room, black walls and blue accents make it look like a elephant in a room with puppy's. it's pink and in the shape of a daisy with a crocheted white blanket sitting nice and folded on the cushion.

"oh well, i would like for my tattoo session to be private." she said voice filled with venom.

"oh well, you're just a walk-in and i'm pretty sure nialls done so you can either let her stay or get the fuck out." harry snapped at the girl and she huffs before sitting on the tattoo chair.

i quickly sit in my chair and roll over closer to harry, he hands me a scrunchie and mumbles, "can ya put it in a bun bee." i let out a 'mhm' and quickly tie it up in a bun making sure it's nice and tight.

"can you lay down." he says to the girl and motions her to the chair.

i quirk an eyebrow at the blonde headed girl who laughs like she's heard the funniest thing in the world, harry raises an eyebrow as well at her before his face scrunches in confusion, obviously confused at what's funny.

"what's so funny?" he asked bluntly before shifting to sit fully on his chair.

the girl giggles again before putting a hand on his bicep, "you, silly!"

"all i said was to lay back." he scoffed motioning to the chair.

she obliges and lays down, i look at her sketch and a small smile makes its way to my face. it's two cherries stuck together by the stem, and little twinkles shine on them.

"it's cute." i mumble to her and she scoffs.

"i know, that's why i'm getting it."

"don't be bloody rude." harry barks at the poor girl, "she just complemented you."

it goes silent after that Kings Of Leon's Sex On Fire playing is the only thing heard. harry lays the stencil on her upper thigh he asks if that is where she wants it and she nods.

"how was your day?" harry breaks the silence as he starts his tattoo gun up.

"it-" i start but the girl cuts me off.

"it's was good, i went out with my friends and had brunch and then i went to the mall-" she also starts but she's cut off by harry.

"i didnt ask you." he deadpanned before looking over at me, "how was your day bee?"

"it was good, was kinda busy at the bakery, you know it's saturday and all the mums go out to walk around the strip buying all their nick-nacks. martha said she could handle the bakery but she hasn't text me so i don't know, maybe i should message her. anyways then i went to the library bought two books, i started one of them and it's alright, it's just a bit slow you know the whole introduction part is always boring to me." i trail off and he chuckles nodding his head, "then i went to kung fu chop to pick up our food."

"ya left my favourite person alone on one of ya busiest days?" harry fake scoffs and i chuckle.

"y'know what she told me, 'i can handle it, ya being an uptight pussy!' " i let out a laugh as i recall martha scolding me with her hands on her hips.

harry lets out a snicker, "that's ma girl."

the girl is looking at me with a scowl on her face, i can see the botox failing to do it job, wrinkles showing as her forehead is scrunched. i raise an eyebrow at her and she lets out a huff before her face turns into one of fake discomfort.

"ow! that one hurt!" she whines and harry looks at her.

"buck up." i murmur and harry snickers.

"so harry, was it?" the girl starts before laying a hand on his forearm.

"yes. can you not hold me ya gonna end up fuckin it up." he shakes her off before finishing off the little twinkles.

"what do you do for fun around here? 'm not from holmes chapel." she continues to talk.

"nothin'." harry response turning off the tattoo gun and placing it down, he takes out healing ointment as spreading it with a tongue depressor. "but if there's one thing i love to do its probably ma girlfriend."

i hold back a snort as her face drops, harry wraps the tattoo before taking off his gloves and pointing towards the door, "niall will get you it's gonna be a hundred."

"you're the worst tattoo artist i know!" she huffs jumping off the chair.

"ya too kind!" harry sneers sarcastically as she basically runs out of the private room and he slams the door.

i strut over to harry and wrap my arms around his shoulders, he turns in my arms and looks down at me. he looks drained and he's definitely in need of a nap, his under eyes drag down and a frown is settled on his face.

"oh h, have you not been taking care of yourself?" i tsk in a whisper and he shrugs his shoulders, "babe this isn't healthy look at you, you need to allow yourself to have breaks, you look overworked h." i kiss his forehead and he sighs.

"you know saturday's are one of my busiest days bee, we need the money for our expense."

"we have more than enough harry. we're in a good place in our life." i say caressing his cheek.

"but what if i wanted to propose to you? wanna get you ya dream ring bee." he grabs ahold of my hands and brings them to his lips pressing kisses on my knuckles.

i pull my hands away and grab ahold of his face and pull him in for a kiss, " i'd marry you with a ring for the coin machine at the pizza place down the street."

he lets out a snort before capturing my lips with his, he captures my bottom lips and gives it a bite, his hips roughly move against mine looking for friction.

"wait," i push him off and point to the door, "tell niall you're on break and lock the damn door."

he looks at me with twinkling eyes and a smile, " 'f course ma heart, ya bloody amazing." he rushes over to the door fixing himself and shouts at niall, " 'm on break don't let anyone in."

"you guys are fuckin pigs." niall gags and harry flips him off.

he quickly closes the door and locks it before walking over to be and pushing me towards the tattooing chair. his hands find themselves under my shirt and he unclasps my bra, the straps fall down my arms and he quickly takes my shirt off.

"ya tits are bloody amazing'." he gives me a toothy grin and i snort.

"ya like a teenage boy, swear it."

"cant help it, it's like they get bigger each time pet." he muses as his hands find their way back to my boobs, he rolls my nipples between his pointer finger and thumb, his eyes turning a darker shade of green as he looks at me. i let a moan slip as he bring his mouth to one and tugs on the other.

"yea, just like that h." i mewl as i grab ahold of the hair tie in his hair and watch as it  loosely falls into place.

he lets his hands explore my body and they make there way to the button(s) of my jeans, harry lets out a groan, "i fuckin hate these jeans."

"they make me look good! and my ass looks fat in them!" i try reasoning with him as he undone all six buttons.

"swear to you, 'm gonna throw them away when we get home." he promises as one of his hands dips into my panties.

"no! they're ma favourites- oh!" i let out a moan as his fingers make there way down my slit and he slowly starts rubbing circles on my clit.

he keeps his torturous slowly speed before pulling away full and i let a whine of displeasure out. harry doesn't waste anytime pulling down my pants and panties, he sits in his rollie chair and spreads my legs before licking his lips, "got the prettiest pussy bee."

"harry!" i whine at the praise and he chuckles before placing hot wet open mouth kisses on my calve and trails up my thigh.

a gasp leaves my mouth as he press a hot kiss on my clit, my hands automatically grab ahold off his long hair and giving it a tug. he lets out a grunt before licking a strip up my cunt, my eyes start to roll back as his skilful tongue works it's way through me. he drags a finger up to spread my folds before he stuffs two in me and places his mouth back on my clit. stars start appearing in my vision.

" 's so good h!"

"yea? ya gonna cum for me bee? want you to cum all over my face." he murmured.

the knot in my stomach ties tighter and my air feels like it's being sucked away from me. harry works his tongue and fingers faster as i clench around him.

"gonna cum baby!" i let a pornographic moan out and clutch his hair tighter.

"fuck, pull tighter bee." i automatically oblige and yank harder causing him to moan loudly, "cum for me bee, i fuckin need you to cum."

the knot starts to fall apart as my orgasm hits me, my legs shake and i choke on my breath. harry let's me ride out my high before he stands up and places a kiss on my lips.

"taste better than any of that damn frostin' you make, swear it bee."

i catch my breath and a lazy smile makes its way to my face, "don't know if that's a complement or an insult to my baking.

he snorts and grabs the bag of take out, "whatcha bring me."

"sushi, rice and noodles, orange chicken, and honey walnut shrimp." i hum and go to sit up.

"hold on bee lemme get you a wipe and your clothes." he hums moving over to the drawer and grabbing a wet wipe, he gathers my clothes before sitting in front of me again. i let out a hiss at the contact of the cool wet wipe and my hot cunt.

"sorry, know you're sensitive didn't mean to pet." he quickly apologised and i smile shaking my head.

"it's okay, just a bit cold 's all."

after he finishes cleaning me up, he kisses my thigh before redressing me, "so you wanna marry me?" i teasingly ask and he smirks.

"wouldn't want it any other way."

a/n: sorry it took me so long but i've been super busy and i'm currently working on a request someone sent in! so that one should be next :)

fratboy!harry x professor!reader 😳🤭

-all the love,

em

xo🐝

[yandere-kokeshi]

— midnight snack

Pairing: yandere ghost x male! reader

Summary: Waking up to find you gone when you are both supposed to be sleeping, he begins to panic, realizing his fears and nightmares might have been real.

Warnings: Slight violence/ptsd, nightmares and crying, cursing, and a whole lot of comfort.

A/N: wasn't Grammer checked? Probably is a bit ooc ghost, otherwise, please enjoy :].

He couldn't help you.

Hearing your screams — those terrifying, exhausted screams, almost ripped his flesh off.

Simon couldn't move, he was stuck to the chair, wrapped in tight rope, fingers grazing while trying to yank away from the back of the damn chair as best as he could.

He couldn't even talk, all he could see and hear was the continuous hitting — loud slaps and hits that shook him to his very core.

He tried to yell, thrash around in his seat — do anything.

But the bad guys were winning; tearing you apart one by one till they was nothing left. They were meant to tear him apart, force him to gargle the water, kick him till he bled; not you.

Never you.

He knew this was a dream — a stupid, fucking dream that wasn't real.

But it was all too real. The sight of you bloodied, beaten up.

The smell of the thick drugs, the sounds of blood splattering all over the walls, and — oh God the smell.

He woke up with a sudden jolt, sweat drenching his body as his heart pounded in and out of his chest. For an instant, a type of hurl of nausea came over him.

His hands were clammy — face was stained with small tears that normally wouldn't happen. Fuck, why was he was weak?

He's Simon Riley — The most brutal and honest man in the camp. He couldn't be vulnerable, or weak. Especially in front of you.

Drifting into proper consciousness, visions of your blood body, bruised and cut face flickered into his mind. He winced. A hand rubbed over his face, rolling over onto his side, wanting — needing to feel your warmth.

Though, all that was responded to was nothing but cold, bundled-up empty sheets.

No. no. Please, god no.

His heart started racing again, stangled gasp coming from the man. He frantically looked around the room, trying to find something to tell him — almost show him you were alive.

But the minute he heard clattering in the kitchen. He followed the noise, leaving the bed to find you.

The midnight air grazed his skin, melting into his face. Grogginess floating away, being replaced with hot and bothered skin.

He heard humming — the smell of peanut butter and jam waved into his nose.

Turning the corner into the kitchen, he saw you, swinging your hips to a song that he wasn't familiar with. But you were there.

Simon could feel his heartbeat. Anxiety moving away, the elephant in the room removing off his chest as he snake behind you.

Snacking his hand around your waist, he felt you gasp — a real, loud gasp.

"Woah, Simon!" You yelled out, almost dropping the knife you were using.

You felt him hum, resting his head on the back of your neck. Inhaling his addictive smell: mix with fireworks, pine wood, and sweat. You looked down at his scarred arms around your lower waist.

You ran your fingers over his arms, tracing the lines of his tattooed arms, feeling goosebumps rise on them. Although, before you stopped, you felt him squeeze you.

A type of squeeze that was quite rare. A clear sign that he was disturbed.

"What happened, bub?" You asked innocently.

You felt his hands release, before running up your sides affectionately. Stopping at your stomach, squeezing it.

"Fuckin' nightmare."

Continuing to run your fingers over his arms, you waited for him to elberate. Leaving it up to him whether he wanted to spill it.

Though, you had a feeling what it was about.

You felt him take a deep breath. A deep sigh released from him, tickling your neck.

"Y'know, you should try this sandwich," you suggested teasingly, offering it up above your shoulder to the man behind you.

You felt him smirk, before removing himself, making you turn to him to admire his hazel eyes.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You smiled, "Just a good cook. Should be lucky I'm sharing one of my rare recipe."

He snorted. Before shaking his head hesitantly.

Slowly, you felt his hands wrap around your waist once again, bringing himself closer to you. Resting his chin on yours, feeling him give out yet another heavy sigh.

It was all quiet until he spoke up.

"I had to see if you were okay."

You don't take a bit out of the sandwich yet. Not even making it halfway to the bread.

Your tilt your head, meeting his eyes: "...Did I?"

He nodded.

You sighed, placing the sandwich back on the plate behind you. Seconds later, you hugged Simon back, making sure to squeeze him.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see that. I wish I could—"

Simon hugged you tighter, causing you to shush. Chuckling at his way to make you quiet, you bring yourself impossibly closer to him and rest your cheek on his chest. You both stay quiet, slightly swaying right to left.

A silence of comfort envelopes the room, hearing the soft rain pattern, the occasional hoo' of an owl, and the breathing of the both of you.

You look up at him, shooting him a small smile, "Can I finish my sandwich?"

The comment falls deaf his ears, not replying, but rather drifting away from your hold to allow you to grab that damn snack.

Suddenly, while eating it, he grabbed the crisped bread, earning a small 'hey!' Out of you.

Watching him take a bite, he hummed.

"Not bad."

You rolled your eyes, "Course it's not bad. It's made by me." You teased.

He let out a small chuckle. Before handing it back to you, but, you shook your head.

His brows raise, lips spread in a questionable question of: "Why not?"

It made you laugh.

"You can have it. You deserve it more."

His eyebrows knit, before looking at it. Though, he shrugged and took another bite, pulling you back to his chest.

Watching Simon enjoy the snack you made with love caught you off guard. While he did love your cooking, he wasn't open to showing affection; mostly throwing hugs, kisses, and a rare 'I love you'.

A few minutes passed, hearing Simon chewing, occasionally leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead or feel his hand travel down your bottom, squeezing it.

"Simon," You whispered, smoothing a hand over his brown hair.

"Fine, I'll let it go," He mumbled into your hair, making you let out a small laugh.

You looked up at him, holding his hand while rubbing the rough — scarred and pink skin. "Read to head back?"

He hummed. Before grabbing your hand, he bent down to kiss you on the lips, tasting the peanut butter and jam. Yummy.

—

My masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

Content belongs to ©️ yandere-kokeshi only.

[iamsherlocked-1998]

𝓢𝓞𝓜𝓔 𝓒𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓡𝓢

SUMMARY: Just a moment between a father and a kid.

WORDS: 800

WARNING: Nope, just something soft.

The walk had turned out to be longer than expected, the sun was beating down, his feet were sore with every step, and Ellie had long since stopped complaining of sheer exhaustion, so when they found a more or less safe area it felt like people in the desert saw an oasis.

Luckily, someone had lived there recently but seemed to have left, they saw a generator that had a few days left to work and a water container to wash yourself with.

The girl was the first to enjoy the new comforts, when she was done Joel locked himself in the small bathroom and accessed his sharp jaw while looking at reflection in the mirror. It was true that he didn't have the opportunity to shave during the last stretch of the country they traveled and it was starting to itch. He then looked for something to proceed with the task, but unfortunately he found nothing. It was strange that he could have bathed with scented soap and yet still had to rely on his half-broken razor or scissors, but he bit his lower lip and resigned himself to searching through his worn, dirty pants.

The process was easy, he was almost done when…had a small accident, a piece of clothing fell to the floor distracting him, the fact is that the surface of the knife instead of fixing the hair there removed it, producing a huge bald spot. Horror took over him, maybe they didn't meet many people but he couldn't go out like that, he hadn't gone completely beardless since he was twenty, but there was no other choice, so he sighed and finished the job.

════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ════════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ════

He went down the stairs with determination, feeling refreshed due to the clean clothes they also found a couple of stops ago, he sat down in what looked like a living room and began to put away things they might need, the girl was absorbed in a book that appeared in the house, the subject matter didn't seem very interesting but Ellie liked it. Then she raised head looking at her protector in astonishment, then she let out a laugh.

The former smuggler looked at her with annoyance and a frown. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing…it's just that I've never seen you without…hair there, it's weird (the girl was still recovering from her laughter)."

Joel lowered his head doubtfully. "I just wanted to try something new…this way it's more comfortable, a practical matter."

Ellie showed a big, sarcastic smile. "Could it be that you had an accident?"

"NO (the man mumbled between his teeth, turning his attention back to his task)."

"Okay…okay (the girl raised her hands in surrender). Since you've changed your look…would you let me do something I've been thinking of?"

Joel's first impulse was to refuse, but when he looked at the girl she had a pleading expression, the trip was getting longer, after all even he was bored, at least he could give her this.

He regretted giving in as soon as he saw her with a set of markers and a mischievous grin.

════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ════════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ════

"Dude, why is your chest so hairy? It's ruining my markers!"

It turned out that what Ellie was thinking about was decorating Joel's old tattoos, he hadn't even thought about them in a long time but she is fascinated by them. Currently she was taking on a bullseye drawing he got as a rebellious teenager on his chest, it looked rainbow colored at the moment and she intended to continue the lattice pattern on his back. He had already clear that wasn't going to show her the little elephant on his thigh or the leafless flower behind the ear. At least the giggles stopped.

"And you're starting to ruin my knee by sitting on me like that, come on. Playtime's over, kid."

"What? No! Don't get up, I'm not done yet."

"I just hope you color them, not draw something embarrassing like… boobs"

"I'm not drawing boobs… I'm drawing dicks"

"Ellie…"

"What? Suits you."

The man rolled his eyes and looked down, to find a deer-like print near his stomach. He had to admit that it was pretty detailed for the short time they had been there.

"That's … Where did you learn to paint like that?"

The girl shrugged.

"When we were in Fedra it was a way to entertain myself, and that animal we saw the other day was pretty cool."

Ellie got up to do other things losing interest. The man caressed the colored print on his skin and gave a subtle smile, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to keep it for a while.

NOTE: The fic is based in this post of @elliespuns

Hope you like It, and the lovely Anon too 💕🤗 I used to do this myself with my uncle when I was little. Furthermore, the tattoos that I mention about Joel are based on those that Pedro has.

[kanmom51]

JK on Bruontheradio - coming soon

*Disclaimer: This post came out way longer than I initially intended it to be, and is a little bit of a brain fart. You have been warned, lol.

Josh “Bru” Brubaker

Love how even with this we have Jimin reference.

JK just cannot help himself.

He did tell us "the love of my life".

And what about the first thing that JK shows us is this:

Bad lighting he probably didn't really count on, but yes, his hand tattoos.

And I know there will be those that will say: "he's showing us ARMY", but I say it's a double for him, cause man ain't stupid, he knows fans will go crazy he's showing ARMY, and at the same time I believe he's showing the JM tattoo as well. You know, the JM that did the exact same kind of clip before him. The JM that spent 5 days WITH HIM in NY (and CT). The JM that is his "love of my life". That JM.

Same JM that @andy-wm wrote a beautiful post about just a few hours ago:

Ok, so I guess I'm going to talk about this here, even though I will probably repeat it many times to come.

Seven for JK is about love not fucking.

There. I said it.

And why do I bring this up here?

Because of the hand he so graciously showed us.

Because of JK's JM tattoo.

Because of said tattoo's placement.

Ring finger. For all to see.

How long have we known the J over the M stood for JM?

Us Jikookers?

I'd say since forever.

It's the rest of the fandom that kept trying to find excuses why it wasn't. Why it stood for everything under the sun other than the obvious. The one person that JK puts above others. The one person JK has been showing for years now that is special to him, in a way that is way beyond even the best of friendships. When you tattoo someone's name on you that is a statement. You are literally branding yourself with their name till the day you die (yes you can erase tattoos, but when you are having a tattoo done that is not what you are thinking of, in that moment in time you are painting your skin for life).

And JK did that. One sided.

He also made sure to let us know that the theories running around for years about what that J meant (you know, the army and J means all the members bullshit) were crap. Yes, he didn't tell us out loud that the J placed over the M stood for JM, but he didn't deny it either. He omitted that. Which is understandable given they are still a closeted couple and we all know that admitting to that, would be admitting to their queerness. As much as JK wants out of the closet, as much as he wants to scream blue murder that JM is his and his alone, he won't do it as long as JM isn't ready. And saying the JM is Jimin out loud, that would be outing not only himself but also the love of his life, when said love of his life is not ready for that yet. So he said the J stands for Jungkook and moved on at the speed of lightening. Without addressing the huge ass elephant in that room - why place it over the M knowing EXACTLY what it looked like? (we know the answer to that, but omitting is the name of the game - said that already).

So yeah, JK tattooed JM on his hand. For all of us to see. And he keeps touching it up. Darkening it. At times specifically those two letters.

I actually had a post in draft that is kind of redundant now, about how I noticed his JM at the airport leaving for the States.

That pinky ring, that actually isn't a pinky ring cause it's JM's ring, which he didn't wear when JM was there in NY with him, but had it back on travelling to London, JM gone back to SK, looks kinda too small even for his pinky, lol.

Now to Seven.

Like I said, JK sees Seven as a love song.

Yes, he sang the explicit version, but that's not what HE feels the song is about. And he's said it multiple times too.

This is what JK thinks about Seven:

and from the MV making:

and:

and from Stationhead radio 20th July appearance:

I think JK is being very clear here. Pity people aren't listening to him. This, for him, is a love song.

Yes, he knows it's very sexual, but it's about being with the person you love more than anything else and wanting to make that person happy. And him saying "the love of my life" that might have been on purpose (wouldn't put it past him) or even as a slip of the tongue, but it cements how he feels about the song, that might not have been written by him, but he most definitley feels an emotional connection with. I'd say kind of like Euphoria or Only then.

And now back to the hand and to JM and their place in JK's promotions for this song.

Not coincidently, JM is laced through every single part of the promotions for this song.

He's in the photo shoot concept.

He's in the MV (yes, what can you do, they had to go with a gf and hetero love story in the MV cause JK's first solo worldwide cannot be a queer love affair MV, that's just the way the cookie crumbles... not New jeans cookie - yuck - just writing that makes me feel ewe...).

He's in the choreography

There are more similarities than those I pointed out in that post. And again, it's not about JK stealing JM's moves from SMF pt. 2 (which we know the man LUVED). It's about JM inspiring him. And believe you me, that JM knew every single step of the way. The song, the MV and the choreo.

It's in the styling (not only the photo shoot).

And JM is just there, with JK all the time, on his hand, just out there for everyone to look and see.

For those saying the J is covered, nope, it ain't. The ring band is see through, cause that's just a thing JK does.

This finger pointing, not intentional in my opinion, just a little coincidence (JK holding the mic, as he does in the GMA performance as well, but in the Explicit performance with no mic in hand he covers his face just like the backup dancers do), and yet, a lovely one at that.

This is the way JK wanted it to be. Since way back in 2019 when he added that J over the M. For everyone to see all of the time!

So, where was I?

To sum this absolutely probably unnecessary post.

JK loves JM.

JK had JM tattooed on his hand.

JK chose Seven because he liked the song (and it's really a good one) and he also connected with it on an emotional level.

JK sees the song as a love song, expressing him wanting and needing to be with the person he loves, the love of his life, constantly, and showing said person how much he loves him and wanting to make them happy.

Yes, there is an explicit version to the song, yay, they replaced "loving" with "fucking". JK sings it, finds it amusing to say the word out loud, but when asked about it, it's the clean version, the love song version that he is connected to.

JK wanted to show us, in the ways that he, as a closeted queer man can, loves JM, is inspired by JM, and that JM is a part of who he is, as a man, as an artist.

Those two may not have come up with the "you are me I am you", but they most certainly took ownership of it. And JK, he's out there showing us just how true it is.

I think maybe it's about time that army:

a. Go read the lyrics to the song and understand that even the explicit version is talking about being with one person, the one you want to make feel good 7 days a week, and not about fucking someone else every day of the week. It's called reading comprehension, I think they need a lesson in that.

b. For once, even just once, listen to what JK is saying, what he's been saying ever since he started the promotion for this song.

This army was listening:

Well, at least to some of what JK has been saying.

I am guessing she's not a Jikooker, lol.

c. This one is for JKKs and PJMs. Try, for just one second, to put your feelings about the way JM's solo debut was treated BY THE COMPANY, and see with untainted glasses just how much this man loves JM. You know how much he promoted him personally and without the company's approval. He adores him, admires him, I'm willing to go so far as to worships him. JM is his catalyst. JM is the love of his life. JK would NEVER do something to disrespect or hurt JM. JK is trying to show us just how much JM is a part of who he, JK, is. He's trying to show us how much he is inspired by JM. How much he loves him. All this anger you are holding towards JK you need to let it go. JK as an artist is not the company as a promoter, they are not one and the same. On the way, I also recommend reading @beautifulpersonpeach's post:

Maybe, just maybe it will give you a little more insight or at the very least food for thought.

Ok, I think that's the end of this one. I kind of think I was all over the place here, and not so sure I got the message through, but it is what it is. Brain farts are not always pretty...

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Pretty Pointy Smile Chapter 4

Summary:  Bucky was born different, and has been judged for it ever since.  His father has had enough and sells him to the circus.  The acceptance and love of his newfound family, and the beautifully fierce ringmaster, help him realize he’s not the monster everyone else made him out to be.

vampire!bucky barnes x curvy!reader This is set in more of like the 1950-60s/ish time period. Warnings: eventual smut, physical assault, a gun, a lion attack

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The local sheriff was irate, but took one look at the state of Bucky and decided fair was fair, so no charges were brought against the circus.  The man attacked by the lion was not too pleased but decided to let things go instead of ratting out his friends and catching a charge himself.

The next few weeks were rough as the circus still traveled and Bucky had to lay still.  The vampire act was cut for the time being so he could heal, and it made him feel useless to just be idling by while everyone else had to work.  It also took a financial toll on the circus since it had quickly become their big moneymaker.  He looked forward to the day Happy would clear him and he could start again.  

“Come on, Happy, give me some good news,” Bucky sighed as he was inspected again.  The bruising had gone away, the wheezing slowly dissipated, and his lip healed.  He was just happy that he didn’t lose one of his fangs from the assault.

“I know you’re wanting to get back out there kid, just give me a second,” Happy teased him, listening through the stethoscope again.  After a beat he pulled away and gave Bucky a wink.  “You’re good.”

“All good?” Bucky smiled wide.

“All good, vampy.  Get back to work,” Happy clapped his shoulder as he packed up his medical bag.

“Thanks, doc!” Bucky clapped Happy’s shoulder back then quickly ran out of the tent looking for Y/N.  He found her by the elephants, giving treats to her favorite Penelope.  “Y/N!” Bucky called as he jogged up to her.

Y/N whirled around to him, her eyes giving him a once-over.  “Bucky, why are you running?  You have to heal–”

“I’m healed!” Bucky cheered, raising his hands above his head.  “Happy said I’m all good to go!  We can start the act again.”

“Oh!” Y/N smiled widely and rushed towards him.  She opened her arms and he quickly stooped down to pick her up in a hug, swinging her around and laughing.

“I’m so happy, Buck.  Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Y/N asked as she seemed to inspect his face when he put her down.

“I’m fine, all good to go.  I’m ready to get back into it.”

“Great.  Let’s practice tomorrow before the show to make sure we’re all still good with our blocking, then we can do it again starting tomorrow night.”

“Sounds perfect,” he smiled widely at her.  

Y/N squeezed his arms, giving him a brilliant smile back.  “I’m so happy to have you back.  I won’t have to be in the sideshows anymore after tonight.”

Bucky looked at her puzzledly, “What do you mean? You’ve never been in the sides before?”

Y/N sighed, her eyes turning away.  “Yeah, well, the vampire act has been such a hit that without it we’ve had to do different things to make up for the loss.  And I used to do sides all the time when I started,” she waved off his question and started walking towards her personal tent.

“Wait, what exactly are you doing for the sideshow?” he asked as he followed her.

“Well, show this off,” she answered curtly, showing him her tattooed arm.  

“What do you mean ‘show it off’?” he asked, a strange feeling twisting his stomach.

“It means exactly what it sounds like, Buck,” she started to walk more briskly towards the tent.

“So you’re sitting in one of the sides, just showing off your body?” Bucky asked incredulously.

“Yes, that’s the whole point.  I’m covered nearly head to toe in tattoos.  What good is that if I don’t show them off once in a while?  And it gets us more money,” she said as they reached the tent.

“Yeah, but…” Bucky didn’t know what to say, or why he was feeling so angry about the idea of Y/N doing this.  She’d done it before, she’d chosen to get the tattoos, she wasn’t ashamed of them.  So why was he angry?

“But nothing.  Look, is it enjoyable having people ogle you?  No.  But it works.  Now leave me be, I have to get changed.”

***

Later that night as Bucky was helping backstage with the big tent show he kept feeling that strange feeling from earlier.  He didn’t want Y/N sitting in a booth dressed in very little showing off her body to others.  It didn’t feel right to him.  Yes it paid, and probably well, but he didn’t like it.  He kept chastising himself mentally.  She doesn’t belong to you.  You are not together.  She can do as she pleases.  Why would she ever be with you anyway?  It was a long show that night.

After it was all over the sideshow acts quickly dispersed to their booths and tents.  The public from the big tent show and those still trickling in would follow the flow from booth to booth, getting snacks and treats, getting their fortune read, looking at the bearded lady and other strange acts.  Bucky decided to roam around and see the sides, or at least that’s what he told himself as he beelined it to Y/N’s tent.  Tents were reserved for the more private or pay-per-view types of acts.  He got in line, which was pretty long and full of men, he noted, for the tattooed ringmaster.  The line slowly trudged along, and the sounds of hoops and hollers could be heard periodically.  Bucky knew this was a bad idea, that he wasn’t going to like what he saw, or maybe like it too much, but his body was moving of its own accord at that point.

Once it was his turn he handed the ticketer his coins, who gave him a wink when they recognized him, and walked into the tent with a few other people he was grouped with.  There was a small stage with a gate around it to stop people from walking up onto it.  The top of the stage was shrouded in a black and white striped curtain.  A gramophone in the corner was playing some music.  Once everyone was inside and the tent door was shut, a crew member inside the tent switched out the record on the gramophone, and as the upbeat music began the curtain was pulled back.  

Y/N was sitting on a stool in the middle of the stage, half turned away from the crowd, and wearing a skimpy bathing suit that matched the black and white striped curtain.  Her hair was pulled all up in a messy updo, curls falling out randomly, with a large white ribbon holding it all together.  Her makeup had been purposely messed up a little, the bright red lipstick smudged along one side of her mouth.  Her body was on almost full display, showing off just how many tattoos there really were, some of them peeking out from the bathing suit.  The crowd whooped, whistled and hollered as she slid off the stool and fully faced them.  She started to pose in different positions, dancing a bit as she would shift from one pose to another.  

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, his jaw hung open.  He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t this.  Y/N posed and danced through the whole song, her hands sliding around her body to bring attention to some slightly larger tattoos, and once it ended she blew a kiss and sauntered back over to the stool, sitting on it as the curtain closed around her.  

They were quickly ushered out once the show was over.  Bucky felt like he could use the fresh air and quickly walked back to the big tent.  He didn’t know what to do with himself.  His hands were shaking and his nether regions were throbbing.  He’d taken care of himself before, but this felt almost desperate.  He stumbled through the tent’s backstage area, apologizing as he bumped into people, and quickly found his way to a secluded corner of the fairgrounds.  It was very difficult to ever have a moment’s privacy or peace when working in a circus.  Bucky had seen others sneak off to try and get some alone time together, but the sounds of moans and skin slapping skin were always easily heard.

He hid behind some equipment set off to the side for storage, plopping himself down so no one could see or hear him.  Once he felt the coast was clear he undid his pants and pulled them and his underwear down to his mid thighs. His cock quickly jumped to attention, slapping against his stomach.  He took hold of himself and pumped gently, moaning quietly at the relief.  He hadn’t done this in a long time, hadn’t felt the need to, but then again he’d never had much experience with women before.  His fangs were a little too much for them usually.

As his pace picked up he pictured Y/N, nearly naked, sliding off that stool and dancing to meet him.  He gripped his cock a bit harder, his head falling back as he envisioned her touching him, molding her tattooed body against his.  He’d held her so many times while doing the vampire act that he could almost feel her ass pushing against his cock as he held her by the throat.  His hips bucked up into his fist as he moaned a little louder.  It was like he could almost hear her moan his name as he pictured her sinking herself onto his cock.  “Y/N!” he whimpered as he came, shooting threads of cum onto his hand. It took him a few minutes to come down from the euphoria.  As he cleaned himself up and wiped his hand off in the grass he suddenly felt dirty.  You’re such a creep, what would she think of you doing this?  Here?  Outside and in public?  Thinking of her?  It felt like he was being punched in the gut again.  He moaned out of frustration as he tucked himself back in his pants, quickly getting up and shamefully walking back towards the big tent.  How am I going to get through rehearsal tomorrow?

**picture is from Pinterest, it's AI so "artist" or "creator" is unknown**

[queserasora]

ABARAI RENJI X FEM READER | NSFW WORD COUNT: 5k CONTENT WARNING: you know it: alcohol consumption, it is what it is, renji is so mean like i will fight him but i don't have the muscle, nipple play, biting lots of biting like ridiculous, renji likes to slap ass and pussies too, ya know for fun cause it's cute and shit, vaginal penetration, for as long as this damn thing is you WOULD THINK they did more, but no, degradaaatiooon i guess????, he's mean so really that's all i can say, oh yeah maybe size kink, renji got a big [censored] A BADLY WRITTEN SUMMARY: Y/N really thought she could until she couldn't. There's nothing else to it. You just gotta read it, folks.

You had been watching him since he entered. It was compulsory; some kind of involuntary reaction. You tried to reason with it, tried to understand the explanation behind the sudden acceleration in your heart beat. You frown at your thoughts, swirling your wine glass. The maroon liquid spinning inside beckons you to look for him again. You admire the fiery mane of hair as you bring your glass to your lips for a taste and find yourself disappointed.

This was your favorite, from a bottle of St. Henri Shiraz, full-bodied and heavy on your tongue; still it barely whets your palate. What you’re craving is something else, something new; thrilling and exciting, like the dark geometric tattoos on his forehead, or the teasing beginning of one peeking out from his v-neck shirt.

You drink again from your glass, hoping to stave off the gnawing hunger. 

It is still inefficient; a waste of your time, just like any continued further attempt would be. At this point, you consider it necessary to leave your spot at the bar. You leave your glass behind. No further souvenirs were needed. Heels clicking on the floor, you squeeze between him and the empty stool by his left.

“Do you mind?” you ask him, practicing your most innocent voice as you drop yourself on the stool. He doesn’t glance at you, but somehow you feel it–his appraisal of you. It was quick, and left you wanting more.

“I don’t care either way,” he spoke gruffly, bringing a glass of sake to his lips. The last thing he wanted was to be tangled up with a human in his gigai body. Renji was just looking for a night to clear his head, away from everyone he knew. If he had intended to keep company he would have invited Rukia or even harassed Ichigo–but the orange haired idiot was busy with college now; a grown man.

Renji’s smile is derisive, as he does his best to hide it behind the glass. His smile threatened to be destroyed at the feel of a hand traveling over his thigh; nails trailing gently until they found his knee.

He feels his muscles react despite the urge to resist. They flex under your touch. He swallows and turns his head slightly to look down at you. You notice the enticing sharp lines of his jaw tense in restraint. It was enough to goad you on.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” you interrupt his thoughts like an elephant in a china shop–frail ceramic inhibitions shattering into an infinitesimal number of pieces.  Until there was nothing but dust, nothing to put back together. He swallows, not for the first time since you sat down, apprehensive words. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” Renji says at last with a casual roll of his eyes. You notice that he still refuses to look at you head on, so you dig your nails into his bony knee. He flinches. An exposure of teeth when he hisses sends goosebumps fleeing over your already heated skin. He looks at you now, brows furrowed, annoyance circling darkly behind his eyes.

Your hunger grows.

“I want you,” you tell him, leaning forward, aware that your cleavage was barely contained in your tight dress. You hoped it was enough to entice him. His eyes linger on your breasts, and you watch him struggle to pull them away. When he looks up at you, his lips are slightly parted, as if he was weighing the words on his tongue. You hum at the thought of it. Curiosity fills you with fantasies about the taste of his tongue, the feel of it on your skin. “Once. Tonight.”

In the back of his mind, he is aware this is a horrible situation to be in. It felt slightly immoral. In a body that was not truly his, he desired you. He felt the dip at the pit of his stomach, felt a growing thickness between his legs. He takes in a sharp breath as he looks at you, observing your fiery gaze. He wants to admonish you but his mouth is a bloody traitor.

“I won’t be held responsible for anything,” you tell her, curling your top lip. Irritation was heavy on his voice, as he tried his best to stop himself from devouring your mouth right then and there. “If you understand…” His voice dies as he swallows thickly again. It is difficult, so he finishes the rest of his sake in one shot.

You watch him throw his head back, and picture yourself licking and sucking up the column of his neck. Your thighs rub together, and you grow tired of it; waiting and waiting for him to decide.

When he finally stands, you seize his wrist. There’s resistance at first, as you do your best to drag him away from the bar. He mentions something about the check, but you ignore him. This was your usual spot as you lived within walking distance. The bar owner knew you. If anything, they’d put it on your tab.

The walk to your place seemed longer than usual as you fought the urge to put your hands all over him. His shirt clings to his muscles in a way that you could see them flex when he moves. You try your best to forbid it–your naughty hands, but they are on his biceps as you pull along, assessing, measuring. He was strong, and the look he gives you through his lashes as he looks down at you is hot enough that you almost imagine your clothes burning away.

He snatches your wrists, and pulls on you roughly. You collide against his chest, and gasp at the feel of his hard body. “Keep this up,” he hisses as he swoops towards your face, his nose inches from yours. “And I’ll just pull you into an alley.”

You are much too old to feel this way, much too wise to think your knees feel weak but you feel your strength leave you. You were a creature of comfort, but an alley didn’t seem entirely bad at the moment.

With a promise to behave, he lets you go, and you lead him at last to your apartment. 

As you fumble with the keypad, something you’re quite embarrassed to even think about, you try to think up your next steps. Should you offer him a drink? Or would that be a further waste of time?

He seems to believe so, as he takes you in his arms the moment the door closes. His hands are in your hair, long fingers tangling in between dark curls. His tongue slips past your lips meeting no resistance. He is determined, but not eager, brushing against your tongue. You moan when he curls his tongue around yours, claiming it for a suck. He tastes of sake, and regrets.

Something prickles behind your eyes, but you push it away, deepen the kiss. Your hands roam freely now, over the planes of his muscular abdomen. They rise to his chest and you squeeze the flesh and muscle, absolutely devastated that your hands are not big enough, not strong enough to mark your territory further. So you dig your nails into his chest as he kisses down your neck. You feel him hiss, his hot breath bouncing against your marred skin. One of his hands travels from the back of your head, to dance over the small of your back until it reaches your ass.

He returns the favor, digging his fingers painfully into an ass cheek.

“Easy,” he tells you against your pulse. He nips and sucks until he feels you shudder in his arms. “I’m not that forgiving.”

The taste of danger, heavier than the red wine you drank, lingers on your tongue as he kisses you again with your face in his hands. You reach for him, blinded by the shimmering light in his hair but you grasp nothing as he tosses you back on the bed. You try to sit up to meet him but he is faster, pinning you underneath him.

You gasp as he grabs your breasts, kneading and gripping. You bite back a whimper. He frowns at you, and shakes his head once. “Now why would you do that?” he asks you. His tone was serious, chilling. You barely breathe as he releases your breasts to grasp the front of your black dress instead. A single moment of violence was enough for him to tear your dress in half with his bare hands. Your shout turns into a gasp as the blast of cool air touches your heated skin. The sound of fabric ripping haunts your ears. Fear and desire mix into a deadly concoction. Still, you swallow it all just like the sight of him above your trembling body.  “There we go,” he sings, a crooked smile tugging his plush lips. “You shouldn’t hold back. I want to hear you fall apart.”

You want to be mad; truly, you do. The dress had not been cheap, despite its light fabric. Sometimes, you paid for a brand name more than the quality. It had been her mistake, just like her choice to go bra less. She was left vulnerable, exposed. He did not hesitate to exploit any weakness, not in battle, nor in bed. His long tongue laps at an erect nipple, soft and explorative at first. When you moan, and arch into his kiss, long, hard and wet he is convinced that he made the right decision.

Tonight was the perfect time for a day off.

Your skin is addicting, sharper and more intoxicating than any drop of alcohol he had ever consumed. Your breast feels soft, and perfect under his large hand. He grips it tightly, and wonders if he will have enough time tonight to explore the rest of you; all of you. For all your boldness, you had become malleable under his touch. He smiles mockingly down at you, as you moan not for the first time, when he flicks a nipple with his thumb.

“You’re all bark aren’t you?” he asks you, and ignores the irony; ignores how in a way he can relate. He leaves a wet trail as he kisses down your sternum, and down to your belly, nipping playfully at the soft flesh under your belly button. Your nails are in his hair, and he tilts his head pulling away from you. He frowns up at you, with a mild sense of irritation. It doesn’t last long, lust taking precedence. “Don’t mess up the hair,” he tells you, and it only makes you want to do it more. You gingerly touch the pins in his hair, keeping half it up, in a silent thank you. Because of them, you're able to watch him as he runs his tongue over the string across one hip–the thin strings that keep your thong in place. The sight of his tongue, long thick and red made you even hornier. You whimper, and your eyes threaten to close when he parts your legs. He turns his mouth to your other hip, eyes closed as one hand finds your heated core. He slides a thumb, gently at first, over your fabric covered slit. Even through the thong, he feels your wetness. He hums as he drops kisses on your pelvis, tongue running along the elastic of your underwear.

“You’re not wet enough,” he states with another curl of his top lip. You swallow as you watch him pull back to stare at your cunt. It was true that you still had your underwear on, but watching him watch you with such a clinical expression was embarrassing. His frown deepens and he tilts his head. “How disappointing.”

You jolt at his words, and push him off of you. Your hands are on his thick chest and you push with all your strength, until you topple over him on the bed. “How dare you,” you hiss, straddling him. He watches you in surprise, chest rising and falling as his breath hitches. It takes a moment, a second of silence, before he smiles; big, bright and genuine. It is loathsome how it fills you with a strange sense of warmth, so you dig your hands into his hair and pull. You force him to look at you, as you put on your best mean face. “Whose fault is it that I’m not wet enough according to you? Maybe you don’t know what you’re doing.”

He laughs at you, even as you tug on his hair one more time. He brings a large hand, and curls his fingers around your thin wrist. You know in a battle of strength you could never beat him. You seize the opportunity of surprise and swoop down to bite his lower lip, with enough strength and viciousness to draw blood. He hisses into a heated kiss, smearing blood on both your mouths. 

The taste is coppery, metallic and you pretend your mouth is a furnace as you suck on his tongue, melting all his hardened edges so that you can mold him into something powerful; something beautiful.

It is lust and delusion that brings you to grasp his shirt in a pathetic attempt to rip it open, to expose the chest you so desperately want to kiss. His laugh echoes in the room, and you feel the sting of embarrassment on your cheeks. You glare at his mouth, now open as he gasps when you slip your hands under his shirt. Your eyes flutter just the feel of his muscle, at the sensation of his cock growing even harder and bigger underneath your throbbing pussy. You needed a defense, a solution; so you pull the front of his shirt all the way up and shove it in his mouth.

He amuses you, bites down on the fabric with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You ignore his absolute cheek in favor of exploring his skin instead. Ink was stark against his tanned skin, a road map of untold stories. You bring your mouth to them, tasting the secrets embedded in his tattoos. He flinches underneath you. You hear him moan as you drag your nails gently down his sides. You kiss up the middle of his chest, and move over to his collarbone. You drop feathery kisses that make him shudder. 

Your touch is light, teasing. Your mouth is a con artist, flapping its gums to sell him empty dreams. He wakes up from this false reality at the feel of your teeth under his collarbone. He bites down harder on his shirt, groaning. Drool wets the fabric and he closes his eyes as you continue to bite down his chest. You are ruthless. Your objective is clear as day to him. This is his punishment, he thinks with a muffled shout bite down on his nipple, once again leaving a mark on his skin; purple and red next to black ink. 

He had insulted you, pushed you down, and you rose like judge and jury. In his clouded thoughts, full of desire and pain, Renji thinks to himself that indeed, Justice was a woman.

His breath is ragged as you move further down to his rib cage. He tries to contain the shuddering, icy fingers of anticipation dragging beads of sweat on his skin. He tries to steady himself when he feels your teeth graze against his skin, but he is still not prepared for the onslaught. You bite along his rib cage, time and time again leaving a crescent shape of marks.

A moon of bites to match your bark. He laughs silently, shoulders shaking as he tries to contain it. He had already insulted you once, and was paying the price. He couldn’t think of what would happen next. Your hips start moving against him, and his head lolls, a moan dying in his throat. You are definitely wet enough now. He feels you soaking through his pants. His hips buck at the feel of your heat, at your teeth pinching the flesh over his belly button. 

He thinks he can take it, he thinks you’ve had enough of the torture but when you move to the side of his waist–he panics. He mumbles something but it isn’t fast enough. You bite down with a growl and his back arches, a shout that turns into a moan. His shirt soaks further with his spit, it now oozes down his chin and pools on the hollow of his neck.

You hear him mumbling, but choose not to listen. This was his own undoing, you think feverishly making up excuses as you bite under his belly button, once, twice; two marks just because. Your hands shake as they undo the buckle of his belt. It takes some effort but you manage.

“See?” you tell him, a tremble in your voice you despise makes you flush further. “You just don’t know what you’re doing,” you continue, rubbing your legs together. Slick slides down your inner thighs. It should embarrass you. You should feel shame at the way your pussy throbs, as if it was pleading to have him inside you. When you bring the zipper down, you’re taken aback, a small gasp leaves you before you can swallow it.

He chuckles at you, propping himself up by the elbows to watch you. He spits out the shirt from his mouth, but doesn’t bother to wipe his chin. “What now? Cat got your tongue?”

You look at him, and find it difficult to swallow. He had felt big, very big, when you were grinding your cunt against him but now that there was nothing but the fabric of his underwear between your eyes and his cock it became evident that you had underestimated his size.

You grit your teeth, and clench your jaw. You were no punk. This was nothing. You tell yourself this as you pull his pants down and he helps you, feeling charitable. Not that you deserve it, you think as you take in the sight of the marks left on his skin, growing darker and darker the more time flies by. He tosses his shirt and looks over at you as he sits up with amusement dancing behind his eyes. His smile is lecherous, and you notice how he grips the bed sheets tightly. Was he holding back? Was he laughing at you? You’re not sure. 

You soldier on, heart in your throat, and slide a tentative hand over the print of his cock. He looks heavy, and he feels heavy as you cup his balls. His eyes flutter close, a happy hum coursing through his body. You slide your hand over to feel his length, and you’re amazed at the girth. You were no petite girl, your hands were far from small. If you were to grip him, wholly, you had the feeling your fingers would not touch your thumb. 

“Scared?” he breathes out as he watches you grip his tip over his underwear. He blows his hair out of his face noisily. You hate how attractive that mere gesture was so you ignore him, and pull at the waistband of his boxer briefs. He tilts his head but concedes, lifting his hips so that you can pull them down. You dare not look until they’re over his ankles, until you toss them on the floor.

When you find the courage to look between his legs, you think you may have overestimated yourself. His cock is hard, a thick vein running and curling around his length. His balls looked as heavy as they felt. His tip, red, angry glistening with precum taunted you. Erect, it was flush against his belly, up to his belly button.

You can’t help it. You can’t help the hand that goes to your mouth. You can’t help your widening eyes, and the way your whole body freezes and burns at the same time. You definitely can’t help the feeling of growing wetter, hotter, the way your pussy clenches at nothing at the sight of him.

He is watching you with mild amusement, head tilted. He looks at you, lashes fluttering briefly. “That’s enough,” he says decisively. He takes action by grabbing your ankles. He pulls you towards him until you’re underneath him, caged in between his big arms. “I told you, didn’t I?” His breath is moist and warm against your cheek. He licks one, then the other. “I can’t be responsible for anything tonight. Your loss.”

His grip is strong on your hips as he flips you over, hands kneading your ass. You whimper, and grip the sheets on the bed. You think to protest, maybe ask him to go slow but you feel a sting that blooms into pleasure. You moan despite the embarrassment, feeling yourself get even wetter if it was at all possible. His hand grabs at your cunt possessively, and he rubs his fingers roughly over your underwear.

“There we go,” he says in a soft tone, encouraging, full of praise. “You know,” he begins, his tone playful, leaning down to bite up your back. You tremble under his assault, a moan following each sink of his teeth. “You might just be wet enough to take all of me. What do you think? Are you feeling greedy tonight?”

Your mouth goes dry. You open and close it, stammer like a fool, and he laughs again. You feel it against your ear when he leans down. His hands are on your ass again, rubbing circles. “I’m waiting,” he sings, licking the shell of your ear. 

“Uh–Well, I–” You begin and you feel your eyes water from shame. This was your undoing. You thought you were above it all. You thought you could be in control but even after everything, he somehow managed to get the upper hand. He chuckles darkly against your ear. His teeth bite down on your earlobe before he sucks on it. He releases it to mock you–to throw your stammering words back at you.

“You sound ridiculous,” he tells the crook of your neck. You feel him smiling there, as he pulls your ass cheeks aside to rub his erection between them; up and down. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

You take in a ragged breath. His hand is on your neck, and he squeezes thick fingers around it. “Yes,” you breath out between gasps, finding it deathly arousing to feel his thickness rubbing on your ass. 

You feel him move away, feel the bed creak. You dare to look over your shoulder, and watch him with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as he pumps his cock. His tongue is out, licking his bottom lip, eyes dark, lids heavy with barely controlled desire. 

“Show me,” he commands, his thick cock in his hand. He moves his hand slowly up his shaft as you falter. He watches you turn slowly on your back as he squeezes his tip. He bites back a moan, wanting to save it for later. His precum is smeared on his hand and he stills for a moment, as you lay on your back. You push the fabric of your thong to the side, exposing your puffy pussy. 

Renji draws a sharp breath, a hiss that turns into a low growl. He crawls over you, stealing away your breath and what's left of your senses. The sight of him is devastating. His broad shoulders make you feel prisoner to the heat between your bodies. He brushes his nose against yours, a terrifying form of intimacy that confuses you. “Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips. He clashes against you, a feverish mouth that takes no prisoners. His hands are in your hair again, messing with your curls and you can’t be bothered to be upset at how he pulls at them, how he grips and curls them around his fingers. He kisses you until you feel like he can kiss you deeper than your mouth, past your throat and lungs. He kisses you until you think you can die from this act alone. When he comes up for air, he is gripping your wrists.

“Here,” he says, bringing them to your ankles as he helps fold your legs enough to reach. “Hold these.” 

You don’t think you have any right to refuse, or rather, any weapon to battle him with. The idea of having him inside you feels like a necessity that justified any risk. You hold your ankles as you whimper, feeling him adjust his fat tip around your entrance. He rubs it against your folds, and up your slit to your clit. A moan wafts out of your mouth, a wanton song past midnight. He snickers and he slaps your cunt with his cock.

“I think…” he drags his words, the same way he drags his tip down your pussy again, to push gently against your opening. Your eyes fly open from where you had shut them in anticipation. “I really think you’re a little…” He hums pensively, pushing his tip in, slowly. He pushes a bit more, and you back arches. He’s not even halfway but the width of him makes you feel so full you fear splitting in half. “A little too greedy for your own good.”

He finishes his words as he continues to push slowly inside you, inch by inch. You’re amazed at his sudden bout of gentle consideration just as you’re amazed at his size. You can’t help clenching around him, and you hear him curse under his breath. Your stomach contracts, forcing your body to make small jittery jolts as you cling to his biceps, nails digging so hard they leave half moon marks.

“Fuck!” he hisses. His teeth are white when you look up at him, gritting as he tries to keep control. “Hey,” he says softly, voice shaking. “If you keep that up. It won’t be good for you.”

“Shut up,” you tell him, unable to think of a clever retort. What you could only think of is the feel of his thick cock inside you, settling in too comfortably as if it belonged there. You move your hips tentatively, and your eyes close, a moan shaking your body. You hear his laugh again as he starts moving against you, slow and purposeful at first.

“God damn,” he hisses, again. You hate the way he clenches his jaw. The sight of teeth, canines a bit too sharp and long, had never been arousing to you until now. “Your pussy is greedy too, huh. You can barely take me in but you keep sucking me back in for more.”

You are far too gone to be embarrassed. You release your ankles, and wrap your legs around him instead. Surprise is evident in his face by the way his brows rise, the slight widening of his eyes. You loop your arms under his, to hold on to his shoulders. Your breathing is scalding against his chin, you kiss desperately up his jawline as he moves again–thrusting into you with renewed fervor.

“Just do it,” you say quickly, a voice that sounds unhinged. “Just fuck me.” Your hands cling to him, and he scoops you up into his embrace. There is no apology, although he thought about it, as he angles his hips.

He pounds into you with more force than he needs to. He is aware of it when you cry out, when your nails pierce skin. He feels your fingers slip against his back, feels the heat of his blood smearing between his back and your palms. It isn’t enough to stop him, or guilt him. His eyes close at the feel of you, wet, tantalizing completely erotic. He looks down at your face, the sight of your disheveled makeup–mascara smeared over a temple, lipstick leaving a purple tint on your chin. He loves it. He smiles at you even as he continues to fuck you. 

“You’re a fucking mess,” he says loudly as you moan, an orgasm flooding your body like riptide. 

You can’t think. You can barely breathe. All you know, and all you need is for him to keep going. The pain is worth it. Every time he pushes in, you feel as if he will kill you, split you, eviscerate you but the moment of pain and fear is quickly followed by a new kind of pleasure.

You moan into his neck, kissing and sucking as best as you can but your strength is not even enough for that. His movements become sloppy, rogue thrusts slamming into your hips hard enough to leave bruises the next day. He grips your thighs as if you had no feelings, hard and merciless. You whimper, reach down with one hand but he is gone before you can.

He pulls out, and you feel eerily empty. He gives you no time to gather your thoughts before he grabs a fistful of your hair. He pulls you up, forcing you on your knees. His cock is coated in your cum, when he shoves it at your face. Eyes that can barely see, unfocused and hazy, take in the sight of his tip, the way Renji furiously pumps up and down his shaft.

You are not yourself, you think, as you open your mouth, tongue hanging out. 

He cums all over your mouth and face. You flinch as a drop hits your eye. You close them tightly, as he still cums some more, feel the heat of it sliding down your face. You hear his laugh as you kneel there, not daring to open your eyes.

“Stay there,” he orders you, and his footsteps fade. Your breathing is loud against your eyes. Your body feels heavy, achy and used. The footsteps come back, and you feel a cold wet rag on your face. He washes your face roughly, not an ounce of tenderness to the gesture. It surprises you then, when you open your eyes to see him smiling at you–a little softly, almost demurely. 

You have no words, and suddenly it feels awkward. Before you can say something you regret, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. Apprehensions disappear at the taste of his tongue, he kisses the corner of your mouth, taking your hands to clean them too. “I was right,” he says, frowning down at the dried blood on your palms. “You are a fucking mess.”

[bayofwolves]

Rereading Blood Ties

We're back again with the third book! In these posts, I highlight details that I find interesting enough to comment on and/or that I previously missed as a younger reader. Since I plan to revise this series and create a fourth arc, a full reread is in order. So, let's see what adventures these kids get up to next!

This is one of my favourite covers in the entire series. There's really nothing more iconic than the first, like, four covers in my opinion. Also, the way I see Meilin is pretty close to how she appears here.

Rollan experiences seeing through Essix's eyes for the first time in this book, completely by accident. And that's not the only thing. In a later chapter, he taps in to her sense of taste, too (unfortunately for him).

Xue hesitates when she introduces herself to Meilin, suggesting that this may not be her real name. "My name is... You can call me Xue."

True melanistic tigers such as Zhamin do not exist on Earth, so here we have a fictional tiger colour!

Assuming names from Meilin's part of Zhong follow the same conventions as Chinese ones, Meilin's full name would be written as Teng Meilin (surname first, followed by given name). Of course, it's never explicitly stated that Teng is a surname, but from my basic knowledge of Chinese names, I think it's clear enough. Meilin is probably the only one of the Four to have a surname.

Somehow, the Tergesh never summon spirit animals, which Lishay theorizes is because of their existing relationships with their rhinos. Interesting. So exposure to an animal from a young age can prevent any spirit animal bond from forming? I feel like it should be the other way around -- growing up close with one animal opens up the possibility of a spirit animal bond forming between you when you're old enough -- but that's just me.

Lishay is able to understand Zhosur's thoughts as if there is a telepathic link between them. Same with Tarik and Lumeo. This must be common in spirit animal bonds. Do the humans just have the thought deposited in their minds, or do they hear the "voice" of their spirit animal? I think it would be awesome if, in time, the Four Fallen were able to speak directly into their human partners' minds, using the voices they had as Great Beasts.

Meilin's tattoo of Jhi keeps moving around from the back of her hand to her arm, even in this one book. I go with the hand in A Revised History of Erdas; it's a more unique location.

It appears Conor has renounced his ties to Trunswick since Hunted. Whereas Abeke proudly tells Jodoboda that she is from Okaihee, Conor says he is "from nowhere in particular". Of course, this could be because his family lived in the fields near but not in Trunswick, but I prefer the idea that he gave up his connections to the town after his abysmal experience there in the last book.

Abeke can tell time from the movement of the stars. She also names one of Erdas's constellations, the Elephant's Trunk. I wonder, was this constellation named in honour of Dinesh? Are there perhaps other constellations likewise corresponding to other Great Beasts? (This is the kind of stuff I want to know about Erdas; what's going on in space? What are their stars like? What if they had more than one moon? Are there other planets nearby?)

When Conor and Abeke ask Briggan and Uraza to help them see better in the swamp, it's almost reminiscent of prayer. They kneel down, close their eyes and utter their request in their minds. Since the Great Beasts are essentially Erdas's gods, I found this bit neat.

So the Sunset Death is spread via insect bite, and seems comparable to malaria. It's named this because the person who falls ill to it will die at sunset. Man, Rollan has been through it.

Conor talks in his sleep.

On the way to the Lake of the Elephant, Meilin rides noticeably silently and later falls off her rhino as if she had been asleep. However, this is very likely a well-disguised instance of her being mind-controlled by Gerathon, which explains how the Conqueror army found them so quickly. I've never realized this before now.

Dinesh has some pretty cool powers. He can turn himself to stone, change his size and heal himself instantly. Despite his obnoxious behaviour during the Grand Council in Tales of the Great Beasts, he might be one of my favourite Great Beasts.

Conor puts two and two together and concludes that the reason Abeke stayed with the Conquerors for so long is because she had feelings for Shane. Seems like everyone knows what's up except for Abeke and Shane themselves. This is an instance of clear romantic implications for these two -- Abeke blushes and is uncharacteristically defensive when Conor questions her about Shane, Conor then figures out that she likes him. Overall, the nature of Shane and Abeke's relationship is left somewhat ambiguous, enough that I used to see many people argue there were no romantic feelings between them at all -- but there are moments like this that say otherwise.

Lishay is the Erdas equivalent of Indian, confirmed in later books but first implied by the fact she uses a talwar, a type of sword from India. So, Zhong isn't just a fantasy version of China -- there are other Asian regions in there, too.

Shane is probably the one responsible for Teng's death, not Gar. Even though Gar was riding Grahv when the crocodile killed Teng, he had no control over him as he wasn't his spirit animal. Which means, unless Grahv was following his natural instincts in that moment (possible), or Gerathon was controlling him like with Iskos (unlikely), Shane was controlling him from afar.

It's still unclear how Meilin was given the Bile. Did Teng replace the Nectar with Bile himself, or did he get someone else to do it? Sheyu might have been involved, if he defected to the Conquerors -- he did let Lenori take Meilin to the Greencloaks, but that's what the Conquerors wanted. I guess we'll never know the truth of it.

A spirit animal may return to the passive state in death. We see this with Zhosur and later Aputin (Dante's spirit animal).

Xue kind of reads as a mystical being to me. Her age, her wisdom, the way she comes and goes... I'm sure she was intended to be a normal human being, but I think it'd be cool if she was actually a spirit who guided Meilin on her quest. Something about their relationship reminds me of those stories about supernatural beings disguising themselves and appearing to humans, helping the good ones but cursing the bad ones. Whoever Xue is, there's certainly an aura of mystery around her. I wish we saw her again in the series.

This book has some really good scenes of the Four bonding and working together as a team. Meilin even lays off Abeke for the entirety of the book! It's too bad she relapses into her mistrust and aggression towards her in the next two.

This reread really made me appreciate how fantastic Blood Ties is. My love for Meilin has been well and truly rekindled by now. What an amazing character. The Reilin developments were wonderful to read about, too; their romance is so good. I really let this one pull me in and could clearly visualize everything that was happening, which is part of what made the experience so enjoyable. And the final battle was the greatest one so far.

Let's hope we don't sacrifice all this character development in the next book! (Spoilers... we do)

This is part of an ongoing series.

Wild Born | Hunted | Blood Ties | Fire and Ice | Against the Tide | Rise and Fall | The Evertree

Immortal Guardians | Broken Ground | The Return | The Burning Tide

Heart of the Land | The Wildcat's Claw | Stormspeaker | The Dragon's Eye

Tales of the Great Beasts | The Book of Shane | Tales of the Fallen Beasts

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Woo! *looking around* Has it really been this long since I've been in your inbox?

THAT IS NOT OKAY!!! Let's get it going! May I request #11

"Those kids? They get their noise right from you, you know.” with Happy?

Yeah, I thought you'd be quiet! Very unlike you, my darling!

6am. The house is still blanketed in silence, you lying with your head against Happy's chest, both still dozing blissfully, his hand sweeping idly up and down your thigh, where it rests over his hips.

"They ain't awake yet," he rasps, turning to kiss your head. "Fancy letting your old man here get on you for a while?"

"So eloquent," you quip, Happy snorting.

"You didn't marry me for my vocabulary skills." No, that's very true.

Kissing the spot just below his collarbone, your fingernails trail over the outlines of his tattoos. "I think I need a reminder of why I did."

His mouth curls into a smile, shifting you onto your back, pulling up your cropped top and beginning to lay kisses there. It's just as you're warming to his touch that there's a rumble from across the hallway...

"Oh god," he groans, "they're up."

"Daddy! Are we still going out today? What time are we going?"

With a dive, your six-year-old son lands in a heap in the middle of the bed, your daughters remaining at the end, fighting over a headless doll.

"She needs her head back on!" Rosie screams, Lily snatching the doll away and holding it aloft.

"No! She met the gallows for her crimes!"

Happy immediately snorts with laughter. "The gallows are when you hang someone, baby. You mean the executioner's axe."

"What, like Anne Boleyn? Our teacher told us about her."

"Yeah, like her."

Lily grins. "Well, this was a very effective noose!"

"Jesus," he chuckles, shaking his head, "they're definitely mine."

"Daddy, can we make pancakes?" Jonah asks, bouncing on his father's legs, Rosie coming to climb into your embrace.

"Yeah, go on, go wait for me." They exit the bedroom at speed, both of you being booted by tiny feet in their haste, the sound akin to that of a baby elephant stampede as they charge down the stairs.

“Those kids? They get their noise right from you, you know.”  Happy comments, squeezing your thigh before hauling himself out of bed, pulling on his sweats.

You tsk softly in reply, throwing back the covers. "Utter lies."

"Oh yeah?" he grins, winking. "We'll see about that later, when they're asleep and we can pick up where we left off."

[peacexatxlast]

Hi! I was curious if you could write a few headcanons (or make a one shot, whichever you prefer) of Jackson Rippner with a goth partner? Of course, Jack's not exactly as ordinary as he comes off at the start of the movie, but I've wondered how he'd be with an s/o that's just a bit more out there than he is, and how he would take in aspects of the subculture (the music, fashion, goth clubs, etc.) as a goth myself. I'm super excited to see what you come up with. Thanks 🖤🦇⚰

Hello! Thank you for the ask; this was really fun! I did some googling on the subculture itself (mainly the clubs because I didn’t know they had actual clubs for it and that was super, super interesting!!) so here’s my thoughts on how he’d react based on what I’ve read and such. I hope you like it~ xx

Warnings: mentions of scars, sexual content ish, dark themes (he’s a terrorist so~ mentions of murder and stuff ahhahah), stalkery Jackson?, super hot and sexy goth gf, overall 18++

First, let’s address the very pretty elephant in the room: tattoos. Taking it from the scar scene where Jackson is almost entranced by the raised scar tissue on Lis’ chest~ he’d love any tatts you have, if any.

Intrigued, completely mesmerized by the inked flesh, he loves to kiss and lick and nip at the flesh.

Skull tattys? A bat tattoo with the rib cage showing? Pretty finger ink? He loves it! 10/10 obsessed with your ink. If you have lyrics tattooed, he googles the lyrics later and listens to the song.

Leading to music:

He really doesn’t hate it. Actually, he kinda like the overall vibe of it.

He was very iffy at first to listen, thinking it would be annoying screaming music that made his ears bleed… but then the songs you showed him?

He felt like he was being transported back in time to a dark castle, laying on the dusty marble floor. He swore he could see you standing above him in all your glory with candlelight casting shadows across your pale skin, whispering the dark secrets of his sins. To put it lightly: it was an ethereal experience.

He really likes “the sanity assassin” by Bauhaus. (Ironic? HAHAHAHHA absolutely)

First time you played it for him, he snatched your phone and put that shit on repeat. First time he heard it in a club? He grinned wildly.

He loves the architecture of a goth club. You couldn’t get him to dress up for it, which you were worried was an issue while being there because some people are all about the non existent ‘dress code’, but Jackson as you have learned very early on in your relationship, is very persuasive.

The dude can get along with anyone. His presence, his aura, those terrifying blue eyes that can either be the sweetest sapphires welcoming you with a warm glimmer or the coldest, most dangerous icy ocean swallowing you whole. Thankfully, you’d never been on the receiving side of his death glare, and you don’t ever want to.

Some people gave annoyed stares at the man, but really, he didn’t look too out of place with his stance (and the way he was clinging to you like a baby koala). He ignored the stares at him, more focused on the starving ogles placed on you. Then, you saw a side of him you’d never seen before: murderous gazes. All for your honor? Talk about a knee bruiser ;)

He enjoys sharing in the things you like. Before meeting you (properly) Jackson had done his research on the goth subculture. He wanted to know how to talk to you and get to know you without looking like a moron. Of course he had seen you first, figuring out your name and address so he could see how you lived and what you did. He was thoroughly surprised that you didn’t live in a bat cave and sleep with a coffin. You were normal! Just incredibly hot and intimidating. He loved it.

He’s never had trouble speaking with women, but he found himself nervous to approach you. After all, what if you didn’t like him and thought he was boring?!

He was anything but boring, but obviously he couldn’t tell you that at first. Then he’d have to get rid of you, and he really didn’t want to do that! Jesus, you were so exciting it was almost unbearable to wait so long until he got the balls but then-

You came up to him first!

Okay… maybe… he was staring a little bit at the gothic style store he’d followed you into. Maybe you found it creepy or weird or endearing? He didn’t know, only smiling sheepishly as you approached him.

“Can I help you?” You we’re so bold, it nearly knocked him on his ass. And your sass? That was so sexy.

“Actually, you can. You look more qualified to assist than I, don’t you think?” His grin was so confident, so assure of himself. And yet he was kind and easy going. His bright, piercing stare devoured you.

“Are you looking for a style change?” Unsure, you nervously chuckled and glanced down at his modern dress. He dressed well in your opinion. Like a hot casual professor almost?

“Ah, no, I don’t look good in chains.” He smirked, “well, maybe, actually, it’s for someone special. And, she kinda matches your style. Would you help me find someone she’d like? What do you suggest?” And there it was…. You’d spent an hour and a half meandering about the store talking to this unbearably handsome man. He asked you everything and anything, getting to know you and the gothic culture you adored. He complimented your clothes and eyes and lips painted a dark color… it was so unfair he had girlfriend! After all, he was buying something for her…

Finally, sadly, your meeting had to come to an end. You helped him pick out this incredibly amazing dress for his stupid girl… and outside the store, he smile and thrusted the bag in your direction.

“So you’ll wear this Saturday? I’ll pick you up at five-thirty?”

The rest was history really. You were so shocked and happy it was hard to get out the three letters, ‘yes!’ Cheeky bastard was so sly and sauve, you melted, agreeing to meet him without a second thought. And of course, the date went extraordinarily well, the dress fitting perfectly because “oh, she actually has almost the same body type as you. Just get your size and it should be fine.”

And taking it off after the date? That was his favorite part.

[triplexdoublex]

Truly, Madly, Deeply

Pairing: Derek Smith (Modsun) x reader

Warnings/ tags: fluffy smut, pinning down by wrists, mentions of a possible future pregnancy/children.

A/N: 3,253 words! I’m absolutely in love with how this turned out. Based off a dream I had. Hopefully, other people besides my old ass catch the reference at the end. Enjoy! Gimme all the Feedback!!!

With hugging, cuddling, chaste kisses and exchanging ‘I love yous’, it’s safe to say the line between friends and lovers is definitely blurred when it comes to you and Derek. In your heart of hearts the line no longer exists for you; you’ve fallen head over heels IN-LOVE with your best friend. You can only hope he feels the same way.

And while you’ve always found Derek attractive throughout his ever changing style, his latest look made it even harder for you to keep your eyes off him. His once blonde hair now dark as a Raven, with a matching mustache , makes his ocean eyes appear a more vibrant tropical blue. He looked like a dark tempting mystery you were dying to solve.

After torturing yourself over the ‘should I’s’ and ‘what if’s’ of confessing your true feelings for Derek, you decide to confide in his best friend Colson and get his opinion on it.

“I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual,” he assures you. “I see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching, the boys smitten.”

*************

Armed with all the bravery you can muster up and Colson’s assurance from the previous day, you decide today's the day you're going to tell Derek the way you really feel. You should be nervous right now but it's hard to feel anything negative when you’re already laying in the grass at the skatepark with the man of your dreams, your head using Derek’s unshaven chest —also part of his new edgier look— as a pillow, while you watch the clouds roll by.

“That one looks like a heart,” you point out. “Your turn.”

“Ok, ummmm.. ooh that one looks like Genesha!”

“Like the Hindu God on your back tattoo? I’m not seeing it,” you say quizzically.

“Right there,” he points, “That big fluffy part uptop is like the elephant ears and head, and all the thin wispy cirrus clouds below it are the trunk and its multiple arms.”

“Looks more like an octopus or jellyfish to me,” you shrug. “But I always love the creative things your brilliant mind comes up with when we do this together.”

Then suddenly you remember when Derek first got his Ganesha tattoo, and how he explained how it symbolizes the removal of obstacles and new beginnings. ‘This is it! This is a sign!’ You think to yourself ‘Now’s the time!’

“Derek, I need to tell you something.” You state, switching your position onto your stomach and elbows next to him.

“Of course, what is it?” He questions, half sitting up resting back on his forearms.

“I love you!” You blurt out.

“Ok… I love you too, you know that.” He sounds confused.

“No..” You take a big breath. “Like I’m IN LOVE with you, I wanna be with you…” You let your words hang in the air as you patiently wait for Derek to hopefully say he’s in love with you too.

But all he finally says is “OH.”

Your stomach sinks and you swallow hard. “I was hoping you feel the same way??” You prompt him.

“Y/N… I-I don’t think it’s a good idea, I cherish our friendship and I don’t want anything to potentially ruin it.”

“Derek, I cherish our friendship too, and I get your concern but we could make it work, I know we could. We’ll always be best friends no matter what. We have an unbreakable bond. Just tell me if you feel the same —“

“Y/N, I already told you how I feel,” he quickly gets up and grabs his skateboard and heads to the half pipe without another word.

You walk over to a shady spot under the pavilion and pull out your phone to text Colson.

Y/N: Thx a lot, the feeling is NOT mutual and I’m pretty sure Derek’s never gonna talk 2 me again now 😫

Colson: Derek’s literally textin me right now freakin out cuz he DOES feel the same way but he's scared to tell you and take things further cuz he’s terrified that if it doesn’t work out he’ll lose you forever, but now he’s worried that your mad at him and you guys are gonna be awkward around each other.

Y/N: Wait , seriously! He said that???

Colson: Yes! I told you! Do I know my boy or what?

Y/N: So now what do I do?

Colson: give him time. he needs to realize on his own it’ll work & he won’t lose you. act normal but flirty so he knows you’re still interested & not upset. i say he breaks by the end of the day!

Y/N: thx you’re the best! Shit, phone’s about to die

Right after you hit send your phone screen goes black. “Fuck,” you mumble to yourself looking around for a clock. You don’t see one but you do see another skater sitting nearby looking down at his phone, and you get up and walk over.

“Hey, you mind telling me the time? My phone just died.”

“Yeah, 2:13. But you sure you should be talking to me. I don’t want no drama with your boyfriend over there?”

“We’re not dating,” you roll your eyes at first but then smile to yourself realizing that even a stranger can see the chemistry you and Derek have.

“That’s what he said too when I asked him, but then when I asked if he minded if I shoot my shot he said ‘I'd prefer if you didn’t.’ So I was confused.”

“Oh reallllly,” you snicker to yourself, saving that tidbit of information for later, and instead calling out to Derek, who’s now grabbing a water from the vending machine “See even strangers think we’re dating!”

He responds by sticking his tongue out at you in true Derek fashion, his playful personality shining through. And that’s when you know you guys are gonna be okay.

The ride back to Derek’s is mostly quiet, but not awkward. You share the same comfortable silence you’re always able to with Derek. You’re the first to speak as the car approaches his street.

“Have I told you how much I like this new look on you?” You smile “Very mysterious,” you add in a mock deep voice.

“Yeah?” Derek laughs, pulling into his driveway.

“Yeah, you look a hott guy at a poetry slam, a sexy Gomez Addams, a handsome modern day Edgar Allen Poe, if you will.” You playfully compliment him as you both exit the car. “Ohhh and Johnny Depp!”

“You’re too much,” he cracks up, turning the key in the front door.

Once inside his bedroom Derek— still shirtless— sits on the bottom edge of his bed to kick off his shoes. It’s then that you take notice of the pink hue of his cheeks.

“I made you blush,” you tease in a sing-song voice, making your way over to him. “C’mon Derek, just admit you feel the same way I do, I already know you do, I just wanna hear you say it.” You step closer and into a wider stance, his legs now sandwiched between yours.

A warm, guilty smile spreads across his face; a smile that says everything he’s too scared to. But he’s almost there. You can feel it. You have to keep trying.

“Soooo Derek, if you won't admit you have feelings for me, then why’d you tell the guy at the skatepark that you ‘prefer he didn't shoot his shot’ at me, huh?”

His smile spreads and his blush deepens, but he still hasn’t said a word.

Time to up the ante.

“I know it’s hard to talk about feelings sometimes, so let’s talk about something different…” you smirk, pausing to lift your knees onto the bed; one on either side of Derek’s lap, officially straddling him. You lean forward and tuck a piece of dark hair behind his ear and whisper “Tell me Derek, do you ever wonder how it would feel to be inside me?”

Involuntarily, Derek lifts his hips, briefly grinding against you, already half hard.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” You giggle, rolling your hips against him as you pull your shirt up over your head and off.

The next thing you know, Derek’s lips are on your clavicle. Low grumbling moans escape him as he kisses a path up your neck, and over your jaw to your mouth. He gently cradles your face; thumbs by your ears and fingertips pressed to the nape of your neck. You part your lips for him; a silent invitation you pray his tongue RSVPs to.

It replies almost instantly, slipping in between your lips and over your teeth to the warm welcome of your own tongue. They dance and twirl in rhythm with your heavy breathing, as you both fall back onto the bed, with you on top.

Sure you’ve kissed Derek before, but nothing like this. This is far more intimate than friendly pecks hello and goodbye. This is a declaration of love written in calligraphy with his tongue. And even though his actions speak louder than words, a part of you still needs to hear him say it.

“Derek…” you pull back from a kiss, your hand gently pushing down on his chest.

“W-what’s wrong?” He sits up half way, on his elbows, and looks up at you confused and concerned.

“Derek,I’m sorry but I need to hear you actually say it before we take this any further. I need to know it’s true.”

Finally, Derek begins to speak; A endless river of rapidly flowing words: “What do you want me to say Y/N? That I’m in love with you, that I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met all those years ago at that party Colson threw, but that I never made a move because I respected the fact that you had a boyfriend at the time. And that by the time that relationship ended I had already dug myself so deep in the friendzone that I didn’t know how to claw myself back out, so all I could do was offer you a shoulder to cry on, because I didn’t want to compromise our friendship. That it was more important to me to have you in my life forever, than to take a chance at love and possibly lose you forever. That every relationship I’ve had since then has failed, because mentally all I do is compare them to you, and they’ll never be good enough. That at times I’ve kept my eyes closed during sex with other women so that I could picture you beneath me instead. So to answer your question — yes, I have wondered what it would feel like to be inside you. I’ve whispered your name as I climaxed alone thinking about it late at night when I can’t sleep. In fact every stain on my sheets is because of you. Or that I’ve mentally picked out your engagement ring; a one carat Marquis-cut Solitare because you like the simplicity, with a white gold band because you think yellow gold is dated and platinum is unnecessary because white gold looks just as good for half the price. That I’ve imagined your belly swollen with my children; boy/girl twins because they run in your family. And we would name them Melody and Lyric after your love of music —especially the 90’s—and the fact that you’ve had the names picked out since you were a child yourself. And lastly, but most importantly that I’m so grateful that you were braver than me and admitted your feelings for me today because I don’t know if I ever would have found the courage.” He finally takes a breath. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

“Yes!” Your eyes brim with happy tears. “That’s all I wanted to hear you say and more.”

“Good, cuz it’s all true,” his smile reaches his eyes. “Now where were we?” He sits up fully, his mouth transforming into a smirk before finding your neck again.

He licks, sucks and nibbles the column of flesh while he explores your body. The feeling of his mouth and tongue on your neck sends a tingle through your whole body straight to your core. His hands swiftly roam over your bra, cupping your breasts before ascending down your sides to your hips, then finally, landing on your ass. He grips in tightly, moving you against him. His breath is warm and heavy against your flesh, as he enjoys the friction. Sliding his hands up from your ass to your back, he pauses momentarily to unhook your bra. You assist him in its removal, shrugging the straps off your shoulders and tossing it to the side.

“Fuck, they’re even more perfect in real life, than my fantasies,” he gasps, grabbing two handfuls before swiftly rolling you over so that he’s now on top— now in control.

The quick position change catches you by surprise and you let out a small playful shriek that makes Derek laugh as he pins your wrists above your head.

“I love you so much.” He kisses the words into your chest.

“I love you so much, too — Fuck…” you let out a ragged breath at the feeling of Derek taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He teases the tender nub with his teeth tugging gently, the arousing sensation causing you to squirm underneath him. Derek looks up, watching your face morph in pleasure: eyebrows knitted, lids closed, mouth open. He continues to suck and tease your breasts, really getting into it, when suddenly his mustache brushes against your sensitive nipple making you laugh.

Derek pauses a moment. “What’s so funny?”

“Your mustache—it tickles.”

“Yeah?.. .” he smirks. “I’ll show where else it tickles.” With his fingers hooked in the waistband of your leggings and panties, he quickly tugs you to the foot of the bed, pulling them down to your ankles in the process. You kick them off the rest of the way and Derek settles between your legs, wrapping an arm around each thigh before pulling you to his mouth. The instant his tongue and lips make contact with your wetness, all your breath leaves your body; and with the way he’s now begun a pulsating suction on your clit, you know your soul will be soon to follow. But the second your back arches off the bed and your legs begin to tremble, he pauses and switches things up, licking lazy circles around your clit. He selfishly wants to make this last.

“Fucking tease,” you whimper, collapsing back down against the bed. You let out a low moan as he slides two fingers inside you, working them in tandem with his tongue. It’s hard to describe the alluring yet slightly taboo feeling of his fingers—that you once only knew in a friendly manner: holding back your hair after one too many drinks or holding your hand while you've cried —are now inside of you on a journey to your peak. Each lick of his tongue and added friction of his mustache kindles a fire in your abdomen. Each curl of his fingers stokes the flame higher and hotter, until you're engulfed in the blaze of your orgasm. “F-uck— Derek, don’t stop!” You wail in ecstasy, reaching out to grab the back of his head as your legs clamp around the sides of his face. He works you through your orgasm, slowly and gently taming the inferno down to glowing embers.

Slowly, he begins kissing back up your torso, his bright blue eyes looking up at you through messy midnight stands. As he makes his way to your lips you can’t help but notice droplets of your arousal still clinging to the tips of his mustache like morning dew. You reach out and cup his face with both hands.

“Saving this for later?” You tease, swiping your thumbs over the residue on the dark hair of his upper lip, before pulling him in for a kiss.

Surprisingly turned on at the fact that you can still taste yourself on his tongue, you moan into the kiss as Derek fumbles with his belt and zipper. Once undone, you aid Derek in the removal of his pants and boxers, wrestling them off with your legs and feet while you continue to steal each other’s breath with your needy mouths.

With both your nude bodies pressed together, Derek reverses your positions, so he’s on the bottom but sitting upright with you perched on his lap.

“Ready?” he reaches down to graps himself, watching as he teases the head back and forth between your excited folds before guiding himself to your entrance. Both your bodies move in unison; him slowly pushing in as you sink down, then finally meeting at the hilt.

For a moment neither of you move, your eyes locked, joyful smiles spread across your face as you just take in everything that comes with being connected like this— the emotions, the sensation, the way he fits like he was molded just for you, the long awaited fantasies come to fruition. It all feels too good to be true, both you and Derek’s eyes well with happiness. A single tear rolls down your cheek and Derek thumbs it away, cradling your face.

“I love you, Y/N—,” his voice cracks “and I always will”

“I love you too, Derek I’ve waited for this for so long”

“Me too,” he smiles, pressing his forehead to yours.

Naturally, your bodies respond to one another and fall into rhythm— you rocking your hips in his lap as he gently thrusts, using your backside for leverage, pulling you in. Each following movement increases in speed and vigor until the meeting of your bodies is audible—although the sound of you chanting Derek’s name drowns it out.

“Derek, FUCK—!” You pant, as he marks up your neck. “DER—EK! Fuck you’ve got me so close!”

“Fuck, y/n, want you to ride me,” he moans breathily into your ear, pulling you down on top of him as he lays back. “Yeah, fuck, j-just like that” he grips your hips, as they rolls in waves against his pelvis.

“God, Derek, I’m so close!” You begin stirring your hips faster and faster until you feel your climax start to build.

“Me too.. Mmmhmm, Fuck, Cum for me!” He helps guide your movements when they falter and grow sloppy the closer you get to your peak.

And then it hits: a bolt of pleasure striking in your abdomen, sending tendrils of electricity buzzing through your body, as you cry out in ecstasy. The way your walls contract around him has him dangerously close as well.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He quickly rolls you both over and pulls out, pumping himself a few times before finishing on your stomach. “S-sorry…,” he starts, out of breath. “… couldn’t remember… if you were still taking … birth control or not?”

“I.. am.” You reply, equally out of breath.

“Ok good, lemme get you cleaned up.”

Derek retreats to the bathroom and returns with a warm cloth. He wipes his remnants from you, tosses the cloth in his laundry basket and lays down beside you. You scoot closer to him and place your head on his chest,tracing delicate circles through his chest hair, while you both silently bask in the post-sex afterglow.

“I wanna lay like this forever,” Derek breaks the silence.

“Until the sky falls down on me,” You agree with a smile.