#I still have to put shit in my bag. I have to change I have to find and put socks on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strang3lov3 · 2 months ago

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Jingled Balls

What has four paws and ruins not only Joel’s Christmas, but his orgasm, too?

Alternatively, you and your cat stay with your dad’s best friend over Christmas.

Tags - dbf!joel, smut, age gap, unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, JOEL JORKS IT IN THE SHOWER, sexual tension, blow jobs, rough/angry sex, first aid, Joel is all grumpy and the target of all sorts of misadventures including but not limited to cat claws in Joel's balls and his butt cheeks, cats pushing shit off of Joel's counter, destroying Joel's house, etc. Some mentions of blood and injury but it’s not bad, I promise. 6.8k words. A/N - this fic is based on a true story of real crimes that have been committed by my dear Gizmo. Names have been changed out of respect for the victims. @endlessthxxghts thank you for editing babyyy i'd be lost without ya

My submission for @beefrobeefcal’s festive failure! I hope everyone has a safe holiday!!

December 20

Joel twiddles his fingers as he waits by a row of empty seats at the baggage claim area of the Austin airport, trying not to pace. He got here too early, been waiting a couple hours for your flight to land. He just couldn’t sit still at home. Already twice cleaned the house top to bottom, fluffed the guest room pillows three times each.

You. You’re staying with Joel this Christmas. It was a last minute thing; your family, well…they forgot about you. It wasn’t intentional, all accidental. Your parents offered up every and any extra amount of room they have to extended family and in doing so, gave away your old room. Whoops.

And so Joel got a call from your dad, his best friend. Joel was supposed to spend Christmas with your family anyway, so your dad reached out to Joel to ask if he’d be willing to take you in while you visit Austin for the week. Joel, of course, didn’t hesitate to say yes. He’d do anything for you, the sweet little girl he watched grow up. He’s missed you a lot since you left home.

Finally, there you are. He’d recognize your smile anywhere. You wave excitedly at Joel, doing your little jog to greet him. Joel takes long steps to meet you halfway, in total disbelief at how grown up you are. Where did the time go? It was only yesterday that you were barely tall enough to reach Joel’s waist, and that was standing on your toes. He remembers teaching you to ride a bike and cleaning up your scraped knees with hydrogen peroxide, and after he bandaged you up he’d let you punch him in the arm as hard as you could to make it square. Look at you now - a beautiful woman, all grown up.

You set your carry-on on the ground and wrap your arms around Joel, squeezing him so fucking tight it steals the oxygen right from his lungs, not that he minds. But the way you kiss his cheek makes his skin burn and his heart pound harder.

“Joel,” you whisper excitedly, hugging him tighter.

Joel lets out a wheezy chuckle. “Hey, kiddo. I missed ya,” he tells you. “S’been too fuckin’ long.”

“Indeed,” you agree.

Joel notices the suitcases from your flight begin to come out on the conveyor belt and squeezes your side twice to alert you, “Better go grab your suitcase, hm?”

“Oh, yeah. Duh. Here–” you laugh, pulling away from Joel to bend down. You pick up your carry on and put it in Joel’s arms, and he grunts at the surprising weight. “Hold this. Be right back.”

Joel inspects the boxy bag you placed in his hands. He turns it to the side and behind a mesh screen are two big green eyes, all wide and untrusting. “Uhhh…” Joel murmurs, further inspecting as he raises an eyebrow. It’s a cat - black fur all puffed up, growling at Joel as its eyes dart left and right. The cat hisses at Joel, causing him to nearly drop the carrier.

You greet Joel once more, this time with your suitcase rolling behind you. “Uh, hey. Who’s this?” Joel asks, suspicion lacing his tone.

“Gizmo!”

“Huh. Gizmo.” The cat hisses again at Joel, startling him. “You didn’t tell me that Gizmo here would be a guest of mine.”

“Oh, I know. I’m so sorry, Joel. It was all so last minute - I found out I was staying with you and then I called kitty daycare,” you begin explaining, Joel leading the way out of the airport and to his truck. He takes your suitcase and carries both that and the carrier. “And get this - they told me they wouldn’t allow me to board Gizmo because he was too bad the last time. Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, how ‘bout that,” Joel mumbles, not so surprised.

“I know. It’s bullshit. But don’t worry about Gizmo, Joel. You won’t even know he’s there.”

“M’not really a cat person, you know,” Joel says. “Pretty sure I’m allergic to the bastards, actually.”

Joel puts your luggage in the backseat of his truck, then opens the door for you to get in the passenger side. “Watch your step,” he warns, giving you his hand as you slide in. Joel closes the door, rounds the front of his truck and joins you, promptly starting the vehicle. The loud engine makes Gizmo cry.

“So…” Joel begins, turning onto the busy highway. “How’s it all going? How’s work and whatnot?”

“Good,” you answer. “I don’t know. You know - work’s work. You?”

“Yeah, I hear that,” Joel replies. “Work’s work and Tommy’s…Tommy.” His joke earns him a little giggle from you. “What else is new? Got a boyfriend?” You give Joel a look, and he shrugs. “What?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, old man?” you tease, talking over Gizmo’s crying. “No, I do not. What about you, Joel, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Cute. Yeah, I do actually. Your father.” Another giggle. Joel laughs too, and he has to fight himself to keep his eyes on the road. You just look so fucking beautiful.

Gizmo whines some more, and Joel looks both irritated and concerned. “It’s okay, Gizmo,” you coo, reaching back to touch his carrier, though the effort does little to soothe him. Joel’s truck chimes when you unbuckle your seatbelt and throw your torso over the front seat, your ass right next to Joel’s head makes him cough and clear his throat.

“What the f-”

Thump. You land in the backseat and open Gizmo’s carrier to pet him and calm him. “It’s alright, Giz- oh, Gizmo, did you have an accident?” Joel’s mouth drops as his eyes dart frantically between the road ahead and the rearview mirror to watch you in the backseat. He’s got a bad taste in his mouth about this.

Now at home, Joel listens to the awful sounds of Gizmo wailing and your shrieks as you bathe the cat after his accident. He had to clean the backseat of his truck, but he didn’t tell you that. When you’re done washing Gizmo, you wrap him in one of Joel’s nicer towels, the one he set aside for you.

It’s evening when you come downstairs, clutching your soggy cat in his towel. You’re already in your pajamas, and Joel’s at the door paying the delivery person for the pizza he took the liberty of ordering.

“Ooh, is that pizza?”

“Sure is. Plain cheese and pepperoni. Sit down, I’ll serve ya,” Joel says. “What would you like?”

“Cheese. Please and thank you.”

You smile as you sit down on Joel’s couch, scratching Gizmo’s damp little head as he purrs happily in your arms. With hands full with plates and cans of pop, Joel makes a disgusted sort of face as you kiss Gizmo’s nose. “Here,” he says, handing you a plate. Gizmo hops off of your lap.

“Thank you.” You take a can of pop from Joel as well, cracking it open as Joel sits right next to you. He turns the TV on, Die Hard already a quarter through on whatever channel his TV was set to. It’ll do.

You and Joel eat pizza together, talking here and there until the conversation fades away and only pizza crust remains on your plates, which are haphazardly set on the coffee table in front of you. At some point, you’ve slid closer to Joel, now pressed against his side with your head resting on his shoulder, dozing off to sleep. He smiles warmly, you poor thing. All worn out after a long day of travel. He doesn’t mind being your pillow.

Scrrraatchk, skrecht. Joel hears the odd, rhythmic noise of…something. “Hey, hon–” Joel wiggles his shoulder. “What’s that noise?”

“Mm?”

“That sound, it’s–”

Out of the corner of his eye, Joel catches Gizmo scratching on his leather recliner - his favorite recliner ever. La-Z-Boy just doesn't make them like they used to. “Oh, god bless it. The fuckin’ cat’s scratchin’ on my chair.”

“Oh, shit. Psst,” you whisper, patting the couch to get Gizmo’s attention, who gives you and Joel that deer in the headlights look. “Knock it off. You know better than that, baby,” you scold in the sweetest, most indulgent tone. Joel rolls his eyes. This is getting old already. “Sorry, Joel. He’s just nervous, trying to make himself feel at home.”

“Mm,” Joel grumbles. “You know, this is exactly why people get their cats declawed. You never considered that for Heathcliff there?”

“No,” you deadpan. “It’s inhumane.”

Joel raises his hands in surrender, then eyes Gizmo as he walks around the perimeter of the living room, stopping to sniff and bat at Joel’s Christmas tree. “Watch him,” he warns, voice dripping with irritation.

You smack his arm. “Oh, relax, old man. He’s not gonna do anything. Pretty tree, though.”

“Thanks. Decorated it myself.”

“I can tell. It’s missing ornaments in the back,” you tease. Joel rolls his eyes, though unoffended. “Still. It’s nice to be around a Christmas tree. I don’t have one this year.”

“You don’t?”

“Mm-mm. Gizmo’s too naughty.”

Joel turns to look at you, baffled by your cognitive dissonance. He just shakes his head, and you go right back to almost-snuggling him.

Gizmo loses interest in Joel’s Christmas tree and continues making his rounds, checking out the window and pawing at the blinds, which makes Joel cringe. Before Joel can say anything you shiver, tucking yourself closer into his side. “You cold, kiddo?”

“A little. But I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” Joel nudges you away from him so he can get up, then pulls a blanket from a basket on the floor. It’s one of those fleece tie blankets, with the repeated logo of the Dallas Cowboys patterned on one side, plain navy on the other. You made this blanket for him, actually. Years and years ago. It’s his favorite - used to be soft at one point, but it’s all scratchy and worn now, well-loved by Joel. He drapes it over his lap and holds one end up, inviting you to get cozy underneath it. But before you do, Gizmo jumps on Joel’s lap. “Awwwh,” you murmur, smiling warmly at your cat. “He stole the blanket.”

“Yeah, but s’alright. We’ll jus’ move him,” Joel says, reaching for Gizmo.

“No, no, he’s fine,” you insist, petting Gizmo’s back. “I think he likes you.”

“Oh, great,” Joel says sarcastically. Gizmo curls up happily on Joel’s lap, kneading the blanket right over Joel’s crotch, which is an uncomfortable sensation. Joel winces and grunts when Gizmo paws his balls. “Watch it, you little shit.”

“Be nice,” you scold, swatting Joel in the arm.

“Uh-huh.”

You and Joel finish the movie and start another, all with Gizmo sleeping happily on Joel’s lap. At some point, you’ve curled yourself up and are now sleeping on your side, feet pressed against Joel’s thigh. “Alright. Time for you to fuck off.” Joel pushes Gizmo off his lap, earning a disgruntled meow from the cat. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, shooing him away before pulling the fleece blanket over your sleeping form. “If it were up to me, you’d be sleepin’ in the garage. So don’t you wake her,” he warns, wagging a finger in Gizmo’s direction. “Asshole.”

December 21

A bit of golden light peeks through Joel’s curtain, gently waking him up. He yawns and checks his digital alarm clock, though he can barely make out the time. Meh. It’s sunrise, whenever that is.

You’re probably still sleeping, Joel guesses, so he’ll grab the first shower. If you’re anything like when you were younger - and you are - if Joel doesn’t shower first, he’ll never get any hot water. He doesn't understand your unique inability to ever shower under 45 minutes, but he can work around it.

Groaning, springs squeaking with his shifting weight, Joel gets out of bed. He takes lazy, heavy steps toward the bathroom, hair sticking up in six different directions with bags under his deep brown eyes. He turns on the water and lets it warm up for a moment, grunting as he tugs his boxers down his thighs, erection slapping against his tummy. He’s hard as a fucking rock - morning wood.

You. You shouldn’t be in his head, but you are. Joel dreamed of you all last night, doing all sorts of filthy things with you, to you. It’s probably nothing - you’re a pretty girl, and Joel’s not gotten laid in however long. Biology. Inappropriate. Wrong. But biology, nonetheless.

Joel steps into the tub, facing the showerhead. He wets his hair, water trickling down his broad, freckled shoulders. He first scrubs his hair using some 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, tangling his fingers in the sudsy strands, then rinses and finger-combs his hair back. Next, he grabs a bar of soap and lathers it in a rag, washing over the broad planes of his chest, his soft tummy, all down his legs, then rinses and wrings out the rag.

His left hand on the wall, right hand palms his cock. Joel wraps his fingers around himself, sliding his hand all the way down, squeezing the base of his shaft. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers, dragging his hand back up.

Joel fucks his fist with abandon, and in his head, he’s picturing you. “Oh goddamn, kiddo,” he moans, eyes squeezed shut. Your eyes are all big and wide with your mouth full of his cock, drooling down his shaft and onto his balls. Or you’re on top of him, hands on his chest as you fuck yourself on his cock. He’s behind you, big hands gripping your waist as he pounds against your ass, leaning over you to lick and taste the skin between your shoulder blades.

With his eyes closed as he pumps his cock, what Joel doesn’t see is Gizmo. Gizmo, wedged between the shower curtain and the liner, sitting on the ledge of the bathtub, tail swinging wildly back and forth. His pupils are big as droplets of water roll down the clear liner.

Joel’s dick is red and throbbing, his cheeks are flushed pink as he approaches orgasm. “Fu- oh,” he pants, quickly reaching for his damp washrag. He bites the fabric to quiet his noises of pleasure. His brow knits together, the wrinkles on his face handsomely defined as he grimaces when his cock begins to throb. He’s about to fall over the edge when it’s all ruined - a sharp pain in his ass cheek, dragging down his flesh. “AHHH!” Joel screams in both shock and agony, looking for the source of his pain.

Of fucking course - Gizmo. Gizmo, with his little, fuzzy arm raised high, claws poking through the shower liner and right into Joel’s ass. He’s squirming, stuck like that of course, go figure. “Get the fuck out of here you fuck-” Joel yells, violently shaking the shower curtain. Gizmo sprints out of the shower and around the bathroom in circles, anxiously pawing for any way out. “God fuckin’ - SHIT,” he rages, stomping out of the tub sopping wet and inadvertently kicking Gizmo with every step he takes. Joel frantically opens the bathroom door, wet hands slipping on the handle. “Scram, you fuckin’ asshole,” he spits, watching Gizmo slip out of the bathroom.

“JOEL?!”

Gizmo jumps right into your arms, and Joel gawks at you.

“What did you fucking do to my cat?”

“What did I do?” Joel seethes. “He clawed my fuckin’ ass cheek!”

Joel can’t believe his eyes. You’re shooting him dirty looks as you kiss Gizmo’s little head, and Gizmo’s headbutting your face in return. He rubs his cheeks on your nose and curls his furry little body into yours, and you pout as you soothe him. “Yeah, sure. Worry about the cat. I’m fuckin’ fine, I guess,” Joel bites, catching a glimpse of a small amount of blood running down his thigh from his ass.

Joel shuts the door then, and gets back into the shower. He washes the scratch with soap and water, wincing at the sting. When he’s done with his shower - and only his shower, as it’s now too late for him to make himself come, Joel apologizes to you for losing his temper.

“Well, don’t apologize to me, Joel. Apologize to him.”

Joel pauses, jaw twitching, balling his hands into fists as he glares at Gizmo purring contentedly in your lap. “Sorry.” It’s the most painful, undeserved apology he’s ever had to make.

Between the holidays and your cat, Joel can already tell it’s gonna be a long fucking week.

December 22

Joel’s current job site isn’t too far from home, so instead of eating a packed sandwich in his truck, he decides to come home one afternoon to make himself something for lunch.

He enters his house through the garage and sees you napping peacefully on his couch, snoring ever so quietly. Your lips are pouting, drooling a little onto his leather couch as the TV plays at a low volume. Joel chuckles quietly, shaking his head. It makes Joel happy to see you comfortable like that, so at home at his house.

He strolls into the kitchen and opens his refrigerator, grabbing some lunch meat and cheese. He tosses them onto the counter, then grabs a jar of mayonnaise and a loaf of bread sitting on top of the refrigerator, sets those down too. Joel grabs a plate, and when he turns back around, Gizmo’s on the counter.

“Get down from there,” Joel hisses, shooing away the cat. “Go on, git.”

Gizmo blinks at him nonchalantly, which pisses Joel off. He knows that fucking cat speaks English. So Joel takes the liberty to shove Gizmo off of the counter, Gizmo landing on all fours with a thump and a discontent meow. “Yeah, shut up. Overgrown fuckin’ rodent.”

Joel pulls two slices of bread from the loaf and opens the jar of mayonnaise, spreading a thin layer on each piece. He moves the jar out of the way and begins assembling his sandwich, and Gizmo hops right back onto his spot on the counter to stare at Joel.

“Oh, you little…” Joel whispers, trailing off and shaking his head. Joel cuts his sandwich on the diagonal, then begins making another - for you, of course. You always told Joel sandwiches taste better when he makes them. You’re a master fucking manipulator, with Joel wrapped tightly around your finger.

Gizmo reaches for the cheese. “Don’t even think about it, shithead,” Joel gruffs, swatting his paw away. “The sandwich is for her. Not. You.”

Joel puts your sandwich in a little baggy and places it in the refrigerator before writing a note for you on a post-it. When he returns to the counter, Gizmo’s surreptitiously dipping his paw into the mayonnaise. “Hey!” Joel snaps, “Get yer filthy goddamn mitts outta there.”

December 23

It’s late at night when Joel wakes up to a horrible suffocation. His eyes fly open and his heart pounds with the heavy weight on his chest, and in his hypnagogic state, he begins to panic. Fuck, he’s having a heart attack. Confused and scared, he tosses his body with the little strength he has, and that’s when he feels it - two paws rhythmically pressing into his chest, a low purr.

Gizmo.

“Get the fuck off of me,” Joel whispers, pushing Gizmo off his chest.

Gizmo makes a little mrrp noise on the floor, then leaves. Joel rolls his eyes and tosses onto his stomach, then tries to drift off to sleep.

But he can’t. Joel’s up now, as there’s nothing like a middle of the night panic to jolt the nervous system wide awake. So Joel groans softly as he sits up in bed, yanking the blankets off his body. He takes slow, sleepy steps out of his room and down the stairs, grabbing himself a glass from the cabinet above the sink. “Fuckin’ cat,” he mumbles quietly as he fills the glass with some water. Joel takes a few sips, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of his house. In his living room, he can see some ornaments are strewn across the floor, lights pulled off the branches of his Christmas tree. As if on cue, Gizmo brushes up against Joel’s leg. “I know what you did, you motherfucker,” Joel grumbles, gently pushing Gizmo away with his foot. Joel sets the glass of water down, then makes his way to the living room.

He first puts the lights back on the tree, and then he gathers the ornaments and places them back on the branches.

Skrrrch.

Joel looks back to see Gizmo on the counter, nudging Joel’s glass along the surface with a gentle bat of his paw, inching it closer and closer to the edge. “HEY,” Joel whisper-yells, warning the cat, “I fuckin’ dare ya, cat. Jus’ watch what happens.”

Gizmo makes direct eye contact with Joel as he pushes it off, and it lands with that signature, awful sound of broken glass.

“God bless it.”

Joel stomps over to Gizmo, who frantically jumps down off the counter and skitters off into another room. Joel chases him down and turns on a light, then corners him and grabs his little body. He cradles the squirming, whining cat and inspects all four paws to make sure he didn’t step on any glass, then tosses him back onto the floor, where Gizmo then runs up the stairs and into Joel’s guest room to join you in a peaceful slumber.

Joel sweeps up the broken glass, defeated.

December 24

Joel’s off work for both Christmas Eve and Christmas day, so finally, he gets to spend some time with you. He’s in his pajamas making eggs and toast for you at the stove, and you’re at the kitchen table, sipping on the orange juice Joel poured for you. “Vitamin C,” he’d said. “S’good for ya.”

Joel plates your eggs, done just how you like them, and butters your toast. “Here ya are, darlin’,” he murmurs, setting down both yours and his plates at the table.

“Thank you, Joel,” you smile. Gizmo’s weaving in and out between your feet on the ground. With the side of your fork, you cut off a small bite of your eggs and drop it on the ground, smiling at the way Gizmo darts out to eat it. Joel just watches, completely dumbfounded.

“You and that cat,” he sighs. “You know, he’s been causin’ me all sorts ‘a trouble all week.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” you argue, leaning down to scratch Gizmo between his ears.

“Well, you should, ‘cause he’s the fuckin’ devil. Broke a glass last night.”

“Did not.”

“Did too. An’ he’s been fuckin’ with my tree,” Joel adds.

You roll your eyes. “It’s just a little cat, Joel. Are you being bullied by a tiny little cat?”

“As a matter ‘a fact, yes. I am.”

You and Joel spend the rest of the day relaxing and watching Christmas episodes of sitcoms together. Joel has you wrap his presents, claiming it’s what you owe him for allowing you and your devil cat to stay.

In the late afternoon, you and Joel get ready to go to your parents’ house for Christmas Eve dinner. Joel wears a dark green flannel and runs a comb through his hair, and you put on a nice dress, one that hugs your curves beautifully.

You knock twice on his bedroom door. “Joel?”

“Yeah, kiddo. C’mon in.”

“Just wondering if you can zip me,” you ask quietly, spinning around for Joel to pull the zipper up your dress.

“Can do,” he answers. He puts a hand on your waist and tugs the zipper all the way up, then smoothes out the fabric. “Y’look beautiful,” he tells you. “Know that?”

“Joooel,” you murmur bashfully, elongating his name.

“I mean it,” Joel says, spinning you around and pushing a bit of hair out of your eyes with his pinky finger and smiling at you, which makes you all flustered. Joel clears his throat then, ushering you out of his room and down the stairs. “M’nervous about leavin’ that cat of yours all alone, you know. If we get home from this and that asshole destroyed my fuckin’–”

You squeeze Joel’s arm. “Relax,” you tell him, but your words do little to soothe the man. The whole time at dinner, all Joel can talk with your parents about is how awful Gizmo is. All the trouble he’s caused, and how you think the little bastard can do no wrong. “Your daughter feeds him,” Joel tells your dad, watching your reaction. You scoff and roll your eyes. “Right from her plate.”

The night comes and goes, much like it always does. Christmas comes so much faster than it ever used to, and it doesn’t last as long. Joel drives you both home and to Joel’s surprise, his house is in one piece. But not the present he got you.

“Goddamn it,” Joel grumbles, seeing the gift bag he left under his tree for you in shreds. He picked out a little black cat ornament for you, and thought you’d like it. He put some cat treats in the bag too. Go fucking figure that Gizmo ruins it.

You help Joel clean up the mess of shredded paper and plastic, all the cat treats are, of course, eaten. “Fuckin’ cat’s probably pukin’ in my bed,” Joel gruffs.

You put your ornament on Joel’s tree and squeeze his shoulder sympathetically. “You’re thoughtful,” you tell him.

Joel smiles with his lips pressed together. He’s so ready for this week to be over. He’ll miss you - god, will he miss you when you’re gone, but he will not miss your asshole fucking cat. “How ‘bout another Christmas movie, hm?”

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling.

“M’takin’ requests. Got any?” Joel opens his entertainment center cabinet to show you his array of DVD’s, the Christmas movies all already set out.

“This one.” You tap the Bad Santa DVD case. “‘Cause he’s hot.”

“Who is? Billy Bob Thornton?”

“Mhm,” you nod, smirking.

Joel makes a disgusted face and gives you a look, but puts the movie in the DVD player anyway. Some of the vulgar jokes make Joel blush, which is uncomfortable for him and entertaining for you.

When the movie’s over, it’s time to go to bed. For real, too. You and Joel have to be at your parents’ house again in the morning and will likely spend the entire day there, getting no alone time or space from anyone. Joel bids you goodnight and kisses you on the cheek, then heads to the bathroom for a night time shower. He doesn’t wanna fight you for it in the morning.

Joel keeps only the night light on in the bathroom. He’s exhausted, eyes are dry and stinging with tiredness. He pulls off his t-shirt, unbuckles his belt and slides his jeans and boxers down his legs together, then toes off his socks, yawning as he scratches his balls. In a sleepy haze, Joel gets into the tub and turns on the shower.

He’s met with that sharp, awful, excruciating pain of claws in his skin, only it’s not in his thighs. Not in his ass.

His fucking balls. Your cat’s claws are in Joel’s balls, and dragging down his sack. Joel feels like puking as it happens, and at the same time he’s being blasted with cold water as Gizmo panics and scratches his body further. It’s like a cartoon, when two characters fight and it’s just pure chaos - a cloud of screaming and other concerning noises, concerning noises that startle you awake.

“FUUUUUUCK!!” Joel yells, scrambling to get out of the tub. He clutches his scrotum and wraps a towel haphazardly around his waist, feeling dizzy as he bleeds into his palm. “Fuck - y–”

You fly out of bed and sprint to the bathroom, where Gizmo is clawing at the bottom of the door. “Joel?” you knock frantically. “Joel!”

Joel unlocks the door and Gizmo sprints out, soaking wet and leaving a path of water droplets in his wake. Joel’s white as a fucking ghost. “Joel?”

“H- he-” Joel can’t even get the words out. Still holding his towel in place, Joel checks the palm of his hand and sees a mess of crimson. “Oh my god,” he says with a weakened voice.

“Joel, what the fuck? What happened?!”

Joel shakes his head, vision going spotty as he waddles to his bedroom and sits on the bed. You follow him, shutting the door behind you and turning the light on in his room. “Joel.”

Joel says nothing, only peeks slightly at his crotch. He does his best to protect his modesty with you there but fuck, he’s gonna faint. And unfortunately, you might see more than you should, should that happen.

“Did he scratch you?” Joel only nods, swallowing thickly. “Okay, alright. Where’s your first aid stuff?”

“Bathroom vanity,” Joel chokes out.

You hurry to the bathroom and grab Joel’s first aid kit, then return quickly to him.

Joel has a strong stomach, however, the sight of his mangled scrotum is too much for his heart to take. If he looks, he might puke and faint and that’ll make everything worse. “You gotta do it,” he tells you, urgency in his voice. “I can’t look. Cat fuckin’ butchered me. I’m a eunuch.”

“Okay, okay,” you whisper, sitting beside Joel. You take his hand in yours, the one that’s clutching his towel shut. He’s shaking, trembling, and you move it to the side so you can open his towel.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Joel says.

“You’re fine,” you reply calmly, though in all honesty you’re pretty nervous too. “I’m gonna open up your towel, okay?”

“Yeah, go ‘head and do it. M’so sorry, kid. Jesus christ,” Joel groans. He leans back so that he’s laying flat on the bed, palms pressed into his eyes as his tummy rises and falls with panicked breaths.

You open the towel and asses the injuries.

It’s not bad.

Really.

It’s not. But you still wouldn’t trade places with Joel, right now. There’s quite a few scratches here and there, some deeper and longer than others. Nothing a little cleanup and some antibiotic ointment can’t fix. “Okay, Joel. I’m gonna be right back, I need to get a soapy rag.” Joel gives you a weak thumbs up.

You run the water on warm and lather a clean rag with some soap, then return to Joel to wash the scratches. “Might sting,” you tell him, dragging the rag gently over his sack. You do your best to remain professional or something of the sort, to ignore how Joel’s cock thickens at your touch. His thick thatch of hair spattered around the base of his dick, gray, wiry hairs sprinkled amongst the brown. He’s thicker than you would have guessed, longer too, curved so beautifully. And his thighs - gorgeous, toned. Belly is soft, arms are strong. He’s gorgeous, all laid out like this.

Joel’s…Joel is feeling every emotion. Embarrassment, because his best friend’s daughter is between his thighs and carefully tending to his lacerated balls. Rage, because her fucking shithead cat is the reason he’s in this predicament. Aroused, because he’s only a man, and you’re too fucking pretty for him to not get hard from your touch.

“Are you doing okay, Joel?” you whisper.

“Ask me later.” Joel wipes some sweat from his brow. “Sorry about the…my…uh…”

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “Didn’t know you were hung like that, Joel.”

“Jesus Christ, kid, don’t say shit like that.”

You stifle your laughter as you toss the rag to the side, the bleeding now stopped. You unscrew the cap of some Neosporin, then squeeze a generous amount onto your fingertip.

“I’m gonna touch you,” you warn. “Just some Neosporin. Okay?”

Joel nods. “Go for it.” He clears his throat when you touch his shaft, moving it slightly out of the way so you can dab the ointment on his scratches. Fuck, he’s struggling to conceal his moans and his stuttered breathing.

Gizmo hops on the bed then, and headbutts Joel’s bicep.

“Get that goddamn cat away from me before I put him through the fuckin’ wall,” Joel seethes.

You don’t push. You know Joel means business, and Gizmo really did fuck up this time. “Psst, Gizmo. Get down. Leave Joel alone,” you whisper, swatting Gizmo onto the floor. “Gizmo’s really sorry,” you murmur, still rubbing ointment onto Joel’s balls. “He didn’t mean to, Joel. He must’ve thought—”

Joel holds up a hand to stop you. “Don’t. Jus’ don’t.”

“Okay,” you whisper. You lift Joel’s ballsack to see if you missed any scratches, but you didn’t. “You’re all done, Joel.”

Joel scoffs, and you stroke his thigh soothingly to calm him. He says nothing, only collects his breathing. His cock is still achingly hard, a pearly, pretty bead of precum at the tip.

It’s a risk, but you take it anyway. You lean down and press a kiss right against his ballsack, conscious to avoid any scratches inflicted by Gizmo.

“Woah, woah, woah-”

“Shhh,” you whisper. “Do you want this?”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing.” You kiss Joel’s sack all over as much as you can, and once you’ve exhausted that, you kiss up his hard shaft. “I’m kissing it better.”

You lick up the length of Joel’s shaft, then circle your tongue a few times around the tip. With one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, you rest the other on his tummy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel sighs, voice dripping with relief as his hips thrust up, almost as if to chase your mouth. He sits up and reaches for your head, softly dragging his nails over your scalp rhythmically. “You’re a good girl.”

You take his tip into your mouth, working your way down his cock to take him fully inside. Joel tastes salty, sweaty, heady and so masculine, just like you always imagined, and it makes you wet. And you, with your warm and wet and inviting mouth, Joel’s imagination didn’t come close to mimicking this. You bob your head up and down his shaft, bouncing your nose into his pubic hair.

“Jus’ like that,” Joel grunts. “Attagirl.”

His words only worsen your growing arousal, and you can feel yourself making a mess of your panties. You fuck Joel’s cock with your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and spitting down his shaft and your knuckles.

Joel pulls your head away from his cock. “Wait a second,” he tells you. “Wanna look at the mess you’re makin’,” he mumbles, admiring the slick, wet mess of your saliva on his cock. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he murmurs, then pushes you back down onto his cock.

Joel thrusts into your mouth a bit harshly, though maintaining a certain gentleness to it. He ruts into your mouth, grunting your name as you drool on him, just as he pictured before.

You reach into your skirt and pull your panties to the side, the cotton is all but soaked with your wetness. Dragging a finger up and down your folds, you moan onto Joel’s cock, sending vibrations down his shaft.

“Whatcha doin’ there, kiddo?” he rasps.

“Nothing,” you murmur, pressing kisses against his dick.

“Sure don’t look like nothin’. C’mere.” Joel pulls you close to him and tugs the zipper of your back down your dress, then helps you out of it. He unclasps your bra and pulls your soaked panties down your legs, clutching them in his fist before shoving them behind his pillow.

In a swift motion that has you yelping excitedly, Joel flips you on your back, the bed beneath you warm with his body heat. Joel settles between your thighs and pushes your knees back toward your chest. “Yeah, s’it. This what you wanted, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, settling into his pillows. Joel’s hot breath fans over your hot, pulsing sex as he places his large, meaty hands on the backs of your thighs. Fuck, the way you smell has Joel’s head spinning, dizzy with lust. He presses kisses against your inner thighs first, working his way toward your center where he kisses sloppily over your clit.

“Makin’ a mess of my sheets, y’know that, kid?” Joel teases, admiring the puddle of arousal you’re dripping onto his bed. He feels the heat of your cunt radiating against his face, inviting him in. He squeezes the meat of your thighs as he licks one long stripe up your pussy, then rubs your skin in circles with his thumbs.

With a flattened tongue, Joel continues licking, rounding your clit before repeating the motion. He memorizes your folds, your taste, your scent. You moan his name and clutch his head against your cunt, your wordless plea for more.

“I’ll give ya more, sweetheart. I know what you want,” he says, tongue now circling your entrance before dipping inside to taste you. He drags his tongue back up and flicks it up and down over your clit. Urgently, you tug on his graying, dark curls, pleasure blooming in your gut. You’re soaking his face as your climax approaches, thighs twitching beneath his palms. “Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant.

“Let go, darlin’.”

You’re about to come when -

CRASH

It’s a loud, thundering crash, the sound of broken glass and heavy objects hitting the floor. Joel growls against your pussy and violently punches the bed on either side of you before tearing himself away from your cunt and stomping downstairs with a renewed anger for your cat.

“I swear to fuckin’ Christ,” he fumes, seeing the mess Gizmo, of course, made. You’re right behind Joel, your jaw dropped in shock.

Ornaments all over the floor, some shattered and others still in one piece. The Christmas tree is somehow in two pieces - god only knows how gizmo managed to do that. The Christmas lights are strewn all over the place and there’s your precious cat, tangled up in the mess. Joel seethes as he makes his way toward Gizmo to free him of the lights, “You get the fuck outta here,” he hisses.

“It was an accident!”

Joel turns around, chest heaving with his angry breaths. “Not another fuckin’ word,” he says, grabbing you by the arm and forcing you over the leather recliner. Joel laughs without humor when he sees that it’s been further scratched by Gizmo.

He parts your legs with his foot, then lines up with your slick hole and enters you in one swift thrust, the action both mind-splittingly painful and pleasurable.

“Joel,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to grab at his thigh as he sets a quick, brutal pace.

“You are…” he starts, “Never…bringing…that fucking cat…here…ever again,” Joel pants, fucking you with anger. “Do you fuckin’ understand me?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper, voice muffled with your face pressed into the chair.

Joel draws out of you all the way, admiring your milky arousal glistening on his cock underneath the glow of the ruined Christmas lights. He plunges back in, then fucks you harshly. He draws in and out of you so quickly and steadily, the head of his cock brushing over your g-spot with each of his thrusts. “Fuck,” he grunts, pulling you by your hips onto his cock repeatedly.

He breathes loudly through his nose, fucking fuming with rage as he uses your cunt to relieve himself of the stress you - yes, you caused him. That cat may be Satan’s spawn but he’s still yours. You are responsible for this.

Pleasure builds quickly in you, and Joel can tell. He leans over you to press his fingers against your clit; he doesn’t even have to move them to make you come. Just the pressure and the motion of his rough fucking is enough to send you over the edge, pussy pulsing and gushing on Joel’s stiff cock, making a mess of him.

Joel pulls you against his chest and bites your ear as he pounds into you, chasing his own orgasm. His balls tighten and his body tenses before release, and then he’s spilling into you, spurting milky white ropes of his hot come inside you. “Fuck, goddamn,” he grunts, fucking himself through his climax. When he’s finished, he pulls out of you unceremoniously, your combined arousal spilling onto the ground. What’s another fucking mess to clean up.

Joel rounds the chair and plops onto the couch, pulling you down with him. You yelp as you fall but he catches you in his strong arms and hugs you close against his body, kissing your forehead and cheeks. “I fuckin’ hate that cat,” he tells you, panting.

Gizmo mrrps then and jumps onto Joel’s lap with you, walking over both of your bodies to greet Joel specifically, bunting Joel’s face as he purrs.

“He’s really sorry,” you giggle.

“Yeah, m’sure.” Joel surprises you both and brings a hand to Gizmo’s face, gently petting his head. “I mean it,” Joel warns. “Never. Again.”

IF YOU ENJOYED!!! Please leave me a comment or say something nice in your reblog, or send me an ask ♡ i love when you make this blog feel like a community ily. ty so much <3 <3 <3

#joel miller x reader #Joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #Joel miller/reader #dbf!joel #Dbf!joel miller #tlou smut #tlou fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal characters

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blockedbykei · 8 months ago

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𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

🏐 — tsukishima kei x f!reader

— synopsis: tsukishima has always struggled wrapping the stupid bandages on his fingers. the new manager seemed to know how, but his pride was too stuck up for him to ask help. luckily, you knew him too well.

— warnings: swearing, blood

🏐 —

The ball slams onto the squeaky floor, the synthetic leader creasing as it meets the shined court. Tsukishima smirks at his opponents’ quick glance at the rolling ball.

“Was that your best, King?”

“Shut up,” Kageyama sneers. Hinata forbearingly chases after the ball. The blonde smirks, adjusting his glasses.

His legs ache, though he didn't have the care to complain nor request to take a break. Testing his endurance was good—he still had limits to test, he still had so much energy to drain. He wasn't going to waste his time tending for the ache.

Something that he wouldn't mind wasting his time on though, was fixing the bandages around his ring and index finger. They were loosening up, untucked from one another. So he looked at Daichi, motioned to his fingers, and his senior's approving nod permits his body to exit the court and onto the bleachers.

"When was the last time you changed those, bruh?" Tanaka blurts. He rubs his hand on his shaved head, his sweat dripping off his temples. "That shit's dirty."

"Just this morning. I'm not unhygienic." Tsukishima bluntly replies. "It got dirty from the ball. Have you seen that thing? When was the last time you changed those balls?"

Sugawara sits beside him, his towel being patted on his forehead. "Two years ago, probably."

Tsukishima fiddles with the thin straps of his bandages, tucking it underneath the wrapped gauze, but it irritates him when it refuses to stick. So he tries and he tries again; from the court to the bleachers, he thinks. A person could only do so much trying.

"Hey, (l/n)!"

His head snaps towards your direction, seeing you enter with a bag full of refilled water bottles. He'd politely take the bag off your shoulders, showing chivalry to remove the image of his isouciant demeanor. But Daichi had already beaten him, as well as carrying the other two bags brought by Yachi and Shimizu.

His fingers absentmindedly twirl and twirl as he stares from afar. His heart pounds uncremeniously against hist chest, like the sound of continuous free spiking against the court floor. He dislikes the feeling of sudden emotions.

But when you were the end of those emotions, he'd bear his hatred.

And Tsukishima had been staring for too long that he hasn't noticed you approaching him with that kind, everloving smile. He doesn't return it.

"Kei," you softly greet. His first name, never given verbal privilege to say but somehow it just felt right for you to say it. "Struggling with that?"

"Hm? O-oh. Yes," his back straightens, forearm on his knee. You sit down beside him but not beside him. He feels like whining. "Can't get the stupid thing wrapped properly."

"I can help—" you offer.

"I got it," Tsukishima tucks his arm against his chest like it was something you'd steal from him. You laugh through your nose. "Not my first time doing it."

"Just let me help," you wrap your hand on his wrist and yank it towards you, the bandage seamlessly falling off his calloused palm onto your lap. Tsukishima feels heat rising to his ears— feels the obnoxious stares of his teammates smiling teasingly as they bounce the balls from their hands to the floor.

And so your soft fingers caress against his, your thumb in the apex of his palm as you hold his hand firmly. Tsukishima puts the weight of his hand on yours, watching your eyes meticulously follow the movement of your fingers wrapping the dirty bandage around his ring and pinkie finger.

"Your scar looks cool," you say. "Where'd you get that?"

"From, uh, Ushijima's spike during our match against Shiratorizawa." His voice falters with embarrassment. "He was strong. An idiot though," he adds the last remark to aid his ego.

"Wow, Kei complimenting Ushijima."

"Followed by an insult," he looks up at you through his eyelashes and feels like he could collapse on the spot. Suddenly the ache on his legs didn't bother him anymore, like they'd been healed by your essence.

You tuck the bandage in. "He may be strong, but he can't block like you," you take his hand in yours and lightly tap it with the other one before standing up. You pick up a waterbottle from your bag and offer it to him. "Drink up. Can't have you dehydrated."

Tsukishima takes the bottle from you. You smile at him, and the edges of his lips quirk up to give you a half-smile, like some sort of gratitude. And you walk away from him.

He could've done a lot more than just speak like he wasn't thankful for your assistance. Instead he watched you walk away, wistfully.

🏐 —

Stupid fucking fingers.

There's blood dripping on the asphalt ground. Tsukishima hisses, Hinata gasps and covers his mouth.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He had bowed so much his back could break. Tsukishima didn't care, he only wanted to shove his entire fist up Kageyama's laughing ass.

Blocking balls was one thing. Blocking Hinata's spike, however...

"Idiot," he says lowly, though loud enough to enlighten Hinata of his disdain. "Shit, could you be careful next time, Shoyo?"

"What's going on?" You exit the gym, locking it behind you. "Is that blood?"

"Yes! Because this Pipsqueak thought we were on some real match. Spiked it at me when we're only three feet apart!"

"Calm down, Kei."

And then he did. He did calm down. His chest went back to it's steady pace as he clutched his hand, the blood's flow weak. You walk towards him and take his hand in yours, then you drag him to the locker room.

"Please don't tell me your scar opened."

He could laugh at that sentence, then again not everyone knows everything. He shakes his head and rubs his nose. "Just a wound from one of my fingers."

"Okay, sit here." He sits on a chair as you reach for the first aid kit.

Tsukishima likes you.

Straight to the point, he admits it to himself that he likes you, and he's proud of that. He could never admit that to anyone else though. Maybe it's because you were nice, and he couldn't bring himself to be mean to you and if he ever was, you put him in his place. Maybe he likes you because you're beautiful. Not just pretty, but beautiful. And you were skillfull at bandaging his fingers. That hit a special spot in his heart.

You sit on the desk in front of him and he offers his hand willingly, placing it on your thigh. You dabbed the antiseptic covered cotton on his bleeding wound. Tsukishima barely hisses from the pinching pain. Instead, he looks at you from the scratched lens of his glasses.

You look at him, laugh a little, and push his glasses up his nose.

Tsukishima blushes.

"Be careful next time, Kei," you advice, placing the cotton aside and start bandaging up his wound. "You're the smart one in the group. They could all go to shit if you get injured."

"Eh, I have you to heal me," his words slip past his lips before he could think about what he would say. His eyes widen a little. And his blush, could it be from embarrassment as you noticed his reaction, or could it be from the way you smile at him and massage the lines in his palm as a retort.

"You're cute," you raise a brow, tucking the bandage in.

"You wrap my bandages all the time." He puts his hands on his lap. And you still sit there, in front of him, on the desk. "You're my little healer."

"Is "little" an insult or?"

Tsukishima laughs. He laughs. Then he takes your hand and plays with your fingers, his fingertips tracing every ridge, every bump of your hand. You watch him as he does so, feeling yourself smile bigger and bigger at every second.

So he takes that chance to lace your hands together. You both blush, looking away from one another.

"Take it as an insult," he finally says. "Healer? Don't take it as an insult. I'll be calling you that from now on, though."

You roll your eyes, jumping off the desk. "Okay, Kei."

You both leave the locker room, hands still together, and his bandage still intact.

🏐—

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #kei tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #hq tsukishima #tsukishima haikyu #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader

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foldingfittedsheets · 1 year ago

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I worked retail for a long time and people really do treat you like shit sometimes. But between selling sex toys, mattresses, and jewelry I can say definitively I got treated worst selling mattresses.

All three of my jobs were in sales but selling sex toys we were allowed to put people in their place, and in jewelry people didn’t want to misbehave in a fancy setting. But people at the mattress store had no problem yelling at me, hitting on me, or insulting me to my face.

For a while I was managing my own store for the company. I ran a small location and had struggling employees placed with me for rehabilitation. If their numbers improved they could go back to bigger stores. If not, they got fired.

So this meant I was the manager of problem employees. At one point both of my people had a foot out the door. The company was going downhill and changed computer systems and they were fed up. Consequently, they made a ton of mistakes, because they just didn’t care about the job or learning the new systems.

I strolled into work on what was essentially my Monday to a shit show. Deliveries scheduled without product, wrong things on orders, poor expectations of the process, you name it. I spent the entire morning getting yelled at for mistakes that weren’t mine.

The final straw came when a man called furious that his moms bed for her nursing home had a delivery window he couldn’t accommodate. This wasn’t a huge disaster since we still had time to deliver it before she moved. I ran him through the options and he just kept screaming at me. Not for a solution but because I was there and he was frustrated.

My heart filled with malice and a cold fury. A calculating part of my brain had a realization in that moment that I could stay a punching bag or I could strike back.

I quavered my voice delicately, taking in a shaky, warbling breath like I was trying not to cry. “Sir,” I quivered through fake tears, “I don’t know what you want from me! I told you what I can do, I didn’t make this mistake I’m just trying to fix it!” My voice broke pitifully on the last syllables, sounding in all ways like a sweet innocent person being yelled at who’s just trying her best, really!

It was like I’d doused him with cold water. My emotional act was the realization that he was screaming at someone who was just doing their damn job, and he was being an asshole. He hastily made an excuse and hung up.

I had a third employee covering with me from another store that day who heard everything. When I hung up, I looked over to see them watching me with an awed expression. “Did… did you just pretend to cry?”

“I absolutely fucking did,” I said with feeling, “and I’d do it a thousand more times. If that’s what it takes for someone to realize they’re behaving like a fucking prick, they deserve it.” The employee looked at me like I was their hero.

The man called back, apologizing profusely, having magically arranged his schedule to accommodate delivery. He came in later that week with an apology Starbucks gift card. I was gracious in my acceptance.

I pulled it a few more times before leaving the company. I felt no shame in the ruse. If someone behaves so poorly that it’s plausible their behavior would drive someone to tears they deserve to feel absolutely wretched about it.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #story #retail #retail hell #I have had people over the years had qualms with the ruse #one person even told me it was so unprofessional #that I’d pretend to be in more distress was not nice of me. but getting yelled at is not nice and I’m in a position where I can’t yell back #and who would they complain to that I cried? would they go to corporate and say how unprofessional the lady cried when I screamed at her!

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shrenvents · 10 months ago

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Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!)

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.7k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. Bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing, than wearing something ‘plain.’ Unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day, I was so close to the finish line, before my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret, and outed it to the entire student body.

I’m a mutant…

That’s what led me across the coast, for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I heard the stories of mutants being hunted and gone missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough, that I wouldn’t at least make it to my 20th birthday.

However, my days of swindling folks of cash and food came to a halt, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so I grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into a crowd.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a colossal, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn-in, leather jacket.

Logan Howlett, or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor... After he and Scott captured me, they dragged me by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I cringed when they said where we were headed, but once I arrived and saw all the kids, like me, going about their lives, free, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know jack-shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at my tardiness... Just my luck. The one day that week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to put on my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and shutting my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11 am, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm. “Class?”

“The only class you have left today kid, is at 2. You’ve managed to miss the rest already,” she scolds flatly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare. She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten out, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class, where he’s most likely dozed off.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. I giggle and then go towards him.

Mr. Howlett?” I say, clearing my throat loudly, he grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I say even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, but he’s still sleeping. I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and my change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, voice echoing through the classroom. I refused to move away from my position, wanting to seem unaffected by him, but I was anything but. With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart races wildly. He clears his throat, and rolls his eyes away after taking in my attire, as he usually does —gives me a once-over, and rolls his eyes back to his focus on his lecture.

“You missed class, that isn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t because you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen. He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every time he does, I can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs, that makes me rise to defend myself. “No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him. “And you’re just gonna admit to that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort, with a growing smile, beaming across my face. Though, his complimentary smile, drops as mine comes to full form. He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me.

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry?” I compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously. My brows furrow.

“Okay, I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to.

He lifts from his chair, standing up. I gasp as he towers over me. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk, staying stoic. “What?” I yelp and his smirk breaks through. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What’s not funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze in disbelief. Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me, you damn highlighter,” he asserts. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re a damn adult.” His scratchy voice loses its humour, and I stay frozen to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan orders as he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond angrily, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to the floor, and straddling his hips. I cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together, moulding them into one. He grunts in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would want him this way.

He half-heartedly pulls away between kisses, whispering my name in small protests, but he gets muffled by my lips and grinds on his lap. Quickly, his objections turn into fierce groans. He takes my hips into his hands, tightly gripping into my flesh as he pushes me back, onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays glued to my core, even as we move. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it in a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating me, and I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how desperate he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock. “I'm a sucker for extra attention teach,” I mention, as sensually as I could muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his dick doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me. “You like attention?” Logan questions, his tone surprisingly soft. His tone makes me shiver and whimper, yet again.

“I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me he doesn’t actually want any opposition. “Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave as he swears, rolling his hips into me once. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he laughs by my ear as he dips down. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object meekly. I feel him smile as he leans away from my ear, and I turn my head over my shoulder to watch him peer down at where our bodies meet. “You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not there to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken here so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can imagine me deep inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back.

“But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I grimace.

“Because, if we did, I’d be hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that ain’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he pecks my naked spine, just below my bra clip. “Even your lingerie is pink huh?” He laughs smoothly. “Imagined it would be.” My legs rub together instinctively at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs pleasantly.

After a long beat of silence and a little grinding, I speak up. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, after giving my ass cheek a mild slap. I yelp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late,” he comments airily. I nod and scurry out the room, with a grin plastered on my face.

...

After a long, vigorous rest of the day. I collapse into my plushy bed with a sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings, with a hint of familiar sass. I jolt up to see Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt is further strained when his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims, with a mocking tone, repeating my "childish" words from earlier. My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin, from that sentence alone.

So, in an attempt to remedy my reputation, sitting up on my bed, with my arms bracing my figure, I slowly spread my bent legs. I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” I roll my tongue as his name teasingly leaves my mouth. His head twitches in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit. “Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh. I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I push my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his thick locks. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, again, coaxing his tone.

Just as I begin undoing his belt, he flips me over on my stomach like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips, to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above. “I better see a pink thong,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction as I’m left in just my underwear for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, briskly going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder. I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I giggle, "You have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're just begging for it princess."

Part two

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reignpage · 2 months ago

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Frat Boy!Gojo

Madri Lager: drunk words

Contents: cursing, just a little conversation between them to set the mood and provide a backdrop for the next fic, not proofread

No fucking way.

There’s just no fucking way.

“Why the hell are you here?” You hiss.

Gojo fucking Satoru strolled into your lecture hall, smug grin on his fuck ugly face, arms folded behind his head and swinging his legs like a maniac. From the doors at the front, he immediately spotted you all the way at the back, sat by your lonesome and you could see his shit-eating grin widen. The whites of his teeth blind you almost as much as his impossibly white hair.

Then, the freak had the audacity to climb the stairs, ignoring the whispering and the pointing, and sat next to you. Well, a seat down because you refused to move your bag, even fought with him a little when he tried to lift it.

He shrugs, slinging an arm around the back of the chair between you, fingertips way too close to your shoulder, and black sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge. “Was feeling bored so here I am.”

Counting to ten, you tried to put on a patient voice, like you’re berating a child, which you pretty much are, and you grit out, “Bored people take up hobbies. Bored people do things like puzzles and cooking and knitting. Bored people don’t crash lectures and bother other people.”

“I love when you lecture me on common knowledge, wifey. It really warms my heart.” To emphasise his stupid point, he presses a hand to his chest and fans his face with the other. “You’re just so smart.”

You slap his hand away when he tries to boop your nose. People are staring, turning their heads like owls as they strained to listen to your conversations. Some people are taking pictures, no doubt sending it to The Bulletin or whatever, because people have nothing better to do than gossip. You hate this attention; the pointing and whispering because of your appearance you’ve learnt to tolerate, but this?

This is just irritating on a different level.

At least once a day, a cheerful stranger comes up to you and asks in bewilderment if you’re Gojo’s fiancee. In fact, they ask if you’re really, actually the future wife of Gojo Satoru like he’s some mythical being and you’re a frumpy little worm. Fuck them. And fuck him.

“Go away, Gojo,” you roll your eyes, typing as much of the lecturer’s notes as you can, a little distracted by the peering eyes around you and the ones running over your clothes .

He sighs and lifts the lace from your dress, rounding the neckline. You feel it tickle your neck, and you fight the urge to shudder. In disgust. With a forced melodramatic tone, he complains, “I’m bored. Entertain me.”

“Are you fucking twelve? Go watch a movie like a normal person.”

“Movies are boring,” he retorts as if it’s fact.

You roll your eyes. “And what? I’m so much more interesting?”

What a stupid question. You really shouldn’t have asked that because the serious expression on his face as he lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug makes you blush. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Did you meet Suguru on the course or was he your piercer first?”

Still typing, you throw him a side glance, feeling suspicious of the sudden change in conversation. But it’s welcomed. “We met on the course. First year. We were in the same class. He’s a good guy.”

Gojo huffs as if he didn’t like your answer.

The piercer’s actually a decent person; he was friendly, smart, and kind. He made long, boring classes feel shorter with his interesting insights and opinions, and he had such a great way of expressing them — he was the most eloquent male you’ve ever met. However, there was always something off about him, like an inner turmoil that neither you nor he could ever quite understand.

It was when he absentmindedly said he was thinking of dropping out that you felt you knew him a little better. You both shared a long talk at the back of the Life Sciences building where your little stroll took you, him smoking and you listening to his mutterings. He spoke of this feeling of being out of place, which you understood better than anyone else, and how the traditional path didn’t suit him. He disappeared for a while, a couple months, and you thought your response might have spooked him. After all, no one ever really comes to you for advice. But when he reached out to offer you a free piercing as his first ever client at his newly opened studio, you realised maybe you are capable of dropping an odd pearl here and there.

“Well, Suguru’s my bestie, so back off,” Gojo pouts.

From your peripheral, you see him eye the big lecture hall and you don’t really know what he’s thinking. It’s an odd realisation to think that Geto, the guy you’ve always kind of admired, is actually friends with this loser – the suggestion that there’s a redeeming quality to the frat guy is one that doesn’t suit you.

Most times he’s easy to read; he wants fun and excitement and thrill. He does whatever’s convenient or interesting, a totally impulsive guy. But there are rare moments, emphasis on rare, where you think there might be something more going on in that huge head of his. Maybe there’s something deeper to him. A maturity and wisdom he’s yet to show.

“Fuck, marry or kill,” he lifts three fingers, “Marx, Satre or Aristotle.”

Yeah, unlikely.

“Gojo, seriously, go away,” you sigh, exasperated. Just five minutes with the guy and you’re already drained. And somehow, you’re expected to live a lifetime with the weirdo?

Satan strike you down.

“Me personally, Satre’s cute but something about big, bushy beards really gets me going. So, it’ll have to be: kill Aristotle, no offence dude, fuck Satre, and marry Marx.”

Two girls in the row in front of you giggle. Your lips turn down in repulsion.

“I’m not sure Marx would like either of us, Gojo,” you give him a pointed look.

He laughs. It’s loud and sudden and he has to say sorry to the entire lecture when it echoes around the hall. Some people laugh at him, or with him, and the lecturer can only shake his head and carry on. This lecturer is strict and merciless when it comes to interruptions, but of course he doesn’t say a thing against the interloper. How could he when there’s a huge placard over the double doors of this building titled ‘From the Loving Hearts of The Gojo Charitable Foundation��?

A couple minutes pass in relative silence, just the tapping of fingers against keyboards and the droning of the professor filling the space, and you think maybe he’s fallen asleep or maybe he’s so bored that he’s actually thinking of leaving.

Of course, neither of those things happen because the universe hates you.

Gojo pokes your side with a pen. You writhe with a blush.

“Oh, ticklish, are we? Very interesting.” He wiggles his brows like an idiot, and you fight the urge to land a punch there. “Our wedding night’s gonna be fun.”

“We’re not going to have one if you had it your way, remember?”

Leaning back in his seat, he taps the pen —where the hell did even get that? He wasn’t carrying a bag— against his chin, considering his words carefully. He shrugs again. “Well, seeing as everyone’s so set on it, I’ve decided to, you could say, open myself to the idea.”

You try to quell the spark of hope there, that maybe your family could be saved, that you’ll be saved. It’s not wise to let that spark fester into something more.

Gojo’s impulsive. Fact.

Gojo’s a thrill-seeker. Fact.

Gojo is an unserious guy set in his bachelor ways. He cannot be relied upon. He cannot be trusted to keep his word.

All facts.

It’s easy for him to be able to have the option to be ‘open’ to an idea, whereas it’s thrusted upon you without much say. He can wake up and make decisions solely based on his urges, but you have to be mindful of the family’s reputation, your father’s bad habits, your mother’s social conservative ways, and the fact that this is all your fault.

“Gojo,” you turn, fixing him with a solemn expression, “don’t do that. Don’t lead me on. I may not want to marry you, but I do want to marry. I must. It’s important to me, so please don’t wave it around like it’s some pretty flag.”

There must be something in your eyes, a graveness or a sombre quality that makes his smile disappear. His brows furrow like he’s trying to understand, trying to piece things together but you’re turning away before he could see.

Clearing his throat, he pokes you again. “Alright. How about this?”

You throw him a doubtful look, worried about what dumbassery is going to leave his mouth.

“Go on a date with me.”

“No.”

“Hey! You said that way too quickly.”

Resuming your typing, you’re already trying to drown him out, focused on the history of pragmatic ethics instead of his humoured tone. He’s suggesting something ridiculous again. As if you’d go on a date with him. Him. The guy who’s been getting in the way, the one who’s been making your life difficult and family dinners awkward, and the one you certainly cannot trust to not set up some trap to humiliate you like in the movies.

“I’m being serious. Let’s go on a date.” Seeing you open your mouth to argue back, he hurriedly adds, “This isn’t fair on me either, y’know? I’m supposed to marry a stranger, one who wears all black and looks like she’d haunt me — not a bad thing, I’m actually kinda into it, question mark? — but my point is, we don’t really know each other. So why don’t we go on a date? It’s a pretty brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you mull it over. Sure, it makes sense, it would be good to get to know the freak you’re marrying or supposed to marry. This is how it should have been in the first place. Plus, your mother would certainly approve; she’d think this is a golden opportunity to secure him, to make him fall for you or whatever Mrs. Bennet thing she’s thinking of.

However, as good as that idea is, you can’t just eagerly agree; there’s no guarantee this isn’t a trap.

“You’re thinking this is a trap, aren’t you?” Your eyes meet his. He’s grinning ear to ear like he’s proud he guessed correctly. “Why don’t you plan the date, then? Set the time and place, that way there’s no way I could have rigged the environment with explosives or something.”

“No pig blood?”

Gojo smiles even brighter, and you have to squint to prevent losing your vision permanently.

“No pig blood.”

#jjk fluff #Gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk crack #jjk x you #gojo satoru #modern au

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briefinquiries · 6 months ago

Text

Tyler Owens x Reader: No Hesitation

Request: From anonymous: “I had an idea for Tyler Owens!! I feel like Tyler would be the type of guy that if a girl came up to him and said ‘this guy is creepy, pls pretend to be my bf’ he would be like ‘hell yay’ and scare the guy away without making the girl uncomfortable?? Maybe you could do a scenario like that with reader?? Thank youuu!!! Lots of love!!”

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: guys.... i'm down bad for tyler owens, pls send help (or requests so i can keep writing about him). anywayyy, enjoy!

“You comin’ T?” Boone asked as he peered into Tyler’s motel room.

Tyler glanced up from where he sat on the edge of his creaky, double mattress and nodded. “Yeah, I just need to grab a shirt that doesn’t smell like pig shit.”

“Good luck with that,” Boone chuckled. “We haven't done laundry in almost three weeks– just about everything in my bag smells like pig shit.”

“Maybe it’s time we popped home for a bit,” Tyler muttered as he continued digging through his bag. Finally, he pulled out an unused, plain, T-shirt that had been folded at the bottom of his duffel. “What kind of place is this, Boone?” he asked as he pulled the shirt over his head.

“Just a bar, man. Nothin’ fancy. They got darts though, and a pool table. Which, by the way, I bet you fifty bucks I can smoke you at.”

“Boone, you don’t even have fifty bucks,” Tyler replied, shaking his head. He stood up from the bed and joined his friend in the hallway, shutting his motel room door behind him.

“Do too,” Boone said defensively as they began walking towards the parking lot to join the rest of the team.

“Oh you mean the fifty bucks I gave you to get the van’s oil changed last week? Which now I’m assuming you never did–”

“An honest mistake,” Boone said, putting his hands up in surrender. “They were closed the day you gave it to me, then I’ll be honest, I forgot about it. But my point is, beat me at pool and that money is yours again.”

“I don’t want the money to be mine again, I want the van to get an oil change.”

“Well you get your fifty bucks back and you can use it for whatever you’d like– oil change included.”

Tyler shook his head, knowing there was no use arguing with his friend.

“What’re you two love birds arguing about now?” Lilly asked. She was perched on the hood of Tyler’s truck looking at footage she’d taken from her drone earlier in the day.

“T’s too scared to play me in pool,” Boone answered before Tyler could.

“Aw,” Lilly said teasingly. “Nothin’ to be scared of. We’ll still love ya, even if Boone kicks your ass.”

“Yeah, T,” Dani added from the front seat of the van. They had the door kicked open and their feet resting out the rolled down window. “There’s no shame in losin’. Only in never trying.”

“I oughta just leave the lot of you behind. Me and Dexter can take things from here. Isn’t that right, Dex?”

“Sure,” Dexter said casually. “But I’ll have you know I can also beat your ass at pool.”

“Unbelievable,” Tyler muttered to himself. “Who’s ridin’ with me?”

Lilly and Boone’s hands shot up. “Shotgun,” Boone announced.

“You always get shotgun,” Lilly muttered as she climbed into the backseat of his truck.

“We’ll meet you guys there,” Dani said as they pulled their feet into the van and started it up. Dexter climbed into the passenger seat and then the group of them were off.

It took about fifteen minutes to get to the bar Boone had been going on about all day. He insisted they served the best chicken wings in all of Tulsa. Tyler would be the judge of that.

The parking lot was relatively full– but not surprisingly so for a Saturday night.

“If you have more than three drinks, you’re ridin’ back with Dani, you understand?” Tyler said to Boone as the five of them walked into the bar together. “I’m not havin’ you get sick in my truck for a second time.”

“Whatever you say, Dad,” Boone said sarcastically. “I’m gonna mark my territory at the pool table– let ‘em know we’re next. Grab me whatever’s on tap, will ya?”

He didn’t even wait for Tyler’s confirmation before darting off, Dani and Dexter on his tail.

Meanwhile, Tyler and Lilly made their way to the bar to order for everyone else. “Man, he’s full of it today,” he muttered once they reached the counter.

“Yeah, well. We’re all a little restless,” Lilly admitted. “It’s been a long few weeks without much action. Boone’s kinda like a puppy. Except instead of walks he needs adrenaline rushes and excessive fun. Tonight’ll be good for him.”

Tyler chuckled as he turned to check where the bartender was at. Except, as soon as he did, his elbow collided with the person beside him.

“Sorry–” he said quickly, eyes wandering down.

His words caught in his mouth at the sight of an unfamiliar, but beautiful girl. You were gazing back up at him with equal surprise, mouth hung open slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“That’s okay,” you answered quickly. “I was standin’ too close.”

“No other way to really do it in here it seems,” he said.

You smiled sweetly. “I know– it’s never this busy here, even on the weekends.”

“You come here a lot?” he asked, just trying to keep the conversation going.

“I wouldn’t say a lot, but enough. Any time I have a hankering for some wings.”

Tyler adjusted his body so that he was facing you entirely now. He was boxing Lilly out– but she’d understand. Especially after she got a look at how gorgeous you were. “You know, my buddy said they were good. I didn’t entirely believe him. But if you say so…”

“You’re gonna trust a total stranger over your buddy?” you asked teasingly.

Tyler tilted his head to the side. “If you met my buddy, you’d understand why. You know we’re all gonna play some pool in a bit if you wanted to–”

“Hey Y/N, there you are!” Tyler heard someone say, cutting him off. He watched as your head snapped around. A man– tall with broad shoulders and black hair, was pushing through the crowd towards you.

“I gotta go,” you said to Tyler quickly, instantly causing his shoulders to fall. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” he grumbled. He turned back towards the bar to avoid seeing you reunite with who he supposed was probably your boyfriend.

“Don’t sweat it, T,” Lilly said, clapping him on the back. “You’ll get the next one.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, kicking himself for letting himself get his hopes up over a stupid, two minute conversation.

Once he and Lilly got everyone’s drinks, the pair of them made their way back towards the pool table which Boone had successfully taken over. No time was wasted before Boone was insisting the pair play.

To Tyler’s absolute dismay– he really did suck.

He lost three games in a row before finally calling it quits. He opted to sit at a high top table with Dexter, watching Lilly and Boone compete instead.

Tyler was just about to throw down the last of his beer when suddenly, he felt an arm loop through his. He turned to tell who he assumed was Dani, that they’d had way too much to drink, but before he could, a voice (that certainly didn't match Dani’s) rang out.

“Hi baby, there you are!”

Dexter, who was sitting across from Tyler, glanced at him surprised.

Tyler looked to his left and locked eyes with the same girl from the bar earlier. Except now, she was gazing at Tyler desperately. Without warning and before Tyler could even react, you leaned closer to him.

In a hurried whisper, you spoke so that only Tyler could hear. “There’s a guy over there. I keep asking him to, but he won’t leave me alone– can you just pretend to know me so that he’ll go away?”

Then, you press your lips to the side of Tyler’s cheek quickly, like it was a gesture the two of you had shared thousands of times. You continued holding on to his arm, your eyes wildly trying to communicate how terrified you clearly were, as you looked pleadingly at him to help you.

Tyler’s face broke out into a huge grin as he, with absolutely no hesitation, took on the role of boyfriend for a complete stranger. He wiggled his arm out of your grasp and instead wound it around your waist, pulling you tightly into his side.

You were taken aback by how secure and safe you suddenly felt.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Tyler replied. He could visibly see the look of relief that washed over your face once you realized he had decided to play along.

Tyler tugged at your hip, indicating that he wanted you to lean in closer. You took his hint and tilted your head towards him.

“Which guy is it?” he asked discreetly.

“Red shirt, black hair,” you mumbled quietly. It was only then that you notice the other man sharing the table with your rescuer. You offered him an apologetic smile, hoping that he was intuitive enough to pick up on the cues you’d been dropping.

Next you noticed the rest of his group scattered around the pool table. Initially, they were in the middle of a game when you came over, but now, their attention had shifted. You glanced at the beautiful girl with tanned skin and long, braided hair, holding a pool stick. She offered you a small, but cautious smile. You hoped it wasn’t her boyfriend you were currently draped over. Then, there’s another guy– with messy black hair topped with an old, worn ball cap. He had a confused look on his face, but when the girl leaned over and whispered something in his ear, his eyes lit up in understanding.

The man you were clinging to rubbed your hip bone gently with his thumb. The sensation sent sparks across the entire surface of your skin. You wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

You’d seen him at the bar earlier and had gotten a good, gut feeling about his demeanor. He seemed genuine and kind– even though you’d only managed about a two minute conversation with him before the man who’d been following you around all night came back. It wasn’t until after you darted off that you realized you should have just explained what was going on right then and there.

You’d realized he was handsome earlier, but this was the first time you’d gotten a good look at him up close, now that your nerves had calmed down and you felt like you were able to breathe again. You wanted to give yourself a pat on the back, because it seemed like you’d chosen the best looking man in the entire bar, if not world, to be your pretend boyfriend. He had distinct features– a strong jaw, tanned skin, and eyes so green, it made you feel like spring was blooming. His brows were furrowed into a firm line as he scoured the bar nonchalantly, looking for the man who had led you to him. You felt grateful that this complete stranger cared enough to help you out.

“That him?” he asked, nodding in the direction he wanted you to look.

You turned your head and watched in dismay as the creepy man from earlier approached.

“Shit– yes.”

“I got ya, don’t worry,” he murmured gently. “Can I help you?” he asked, turning once the man was within earshot.

He stopped in his tracks, eyes glued to you. “I was jus’ lookin’ for her,” the man said, words slurring together.

“And what use do you have for my girlfriend?” he challenged, grip around your waist tightening.

“Sorry man– she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend.”

“But she did tell you to leave her alone, right?”

“Yeah, jus’ thought she was playin’ hard to get. You know how these girls can be–”

“No, I don’t actually,” Tyler said. “I think if she said leave her alone… you should probably leave her alone.”

The man put his hands up in surrender. “Easy man, I didn’t mean any harm by it. Like I said, I didn’t realize she was taken.”

“I don’t think you’re getting it–” Tyler said, standing up from his chair to face the man. You were surprised by how cold you felt without his hand around your waist.

“You don’t get to just choose to respect her now that you know she has a boyfriend.”

“You tryin’ to start something here, man?” The guy narrowed his beady eyes.

“Why? You offerin?” Tyler took another step forward, anger surging in his chest faster than he anticipated.

“Might be,” the man said, meeting Tyler halfway. The two were face to face now– things were escalating.

But before things could get out of hand, the guy from behind the pool table hurried over. “Easy, T–” he placed a hand on his shoulder before facing the guy. “Why don’t you just back off, man? Get outta here.”

“Yeah, c’mon–” two more people from his group stepped forward. Like a small army, you thought. All stepping up to protect you– a total stranger.

There was a brief moment where the man studied the scene before him. Then, like he realized that taking on the four people defending you was a bad idea, he backed off.

“Whatever, she’s not worth it anyway,” he said, throwing you one, final nasty glare before turning and stalking off.

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until you saw him walk out the front door. Only when it snapped shut behind him were you able to exhale a shaky sigh.

That guy’s been following me all night. I thought I could handle it, but then he got really mad when I wouldn’t let him give me a drink,” you said shakily.

“What a creep,” one of them said.

“Thank you so much–” you said, utterly relieved. Then, you introduced yourself to the table of people you’d abruptly intruded upon.

“Don’t mention it, glad we could help. I’m Tyler.”

The others had gathered around the table now and each introduced themselves as well.

“You were right to trust your gut,” Dani said, offering you a reassuring nod.

“Yeah, who knows what that creep might’ve stuck in your drink.”

You shivered at the thought.

“Well, I guess I’m glad I crashed your table then,” you smiled, turning to Tyler. For more than one reason, you thought, taking in the sweet laughter lines around his eyes and full lips. You caught yourself staring and forcibly looked away. You weren’t even drunk, but Tyler made your head spin.

“Anyways, I should go,” you said quickly. You had to remind yourself of the circumstances. You’d practically mauled Tyler in front of his friends and forced him to get into a brawl in the middle of the bar. And no matter how breathtakingly attractive you found him, there was no denying the fact that this entire situation was awkward and uncomfortable. You cleared your throat. “I’m really sorry for intruding, thank you again.”

Tyler was still entirely dumbstruck, even as you walked away. It was like his brain couldn’t keep up with whatever the hell just happened. He watched as you disappeared through the crowd of people.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Dani spoke up.

“Huh?” Tyler turns towards them.

“She was into you, Tyler.”

He wasn’t sure he heard them right. The bar was loud and Tyler’s mind wasn’t working properly tonight, thanks to you and whatever perfume you’d been wearing.

Lilly nodded her head in agreement, “And if I had to guess by the drool on your chin, I’d say you were into her too.”

Feeling a little ganged up on, Tyler just stares at his team in disbelief. “I don’t– I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Boone shook his head and chuckled as he walked back towards the pool table. “Man, I have never– in our entire ten years of friendship, seen a girl leave Tyler Owens speechless– this one might be special folks,” Boone chuckled.

“Go after her, you dummy,” Lilly said.

“And do what?” Tyler asked.

Dani scoffed, “Talk to her– invite her back to the table– literally anything but let her just walk away, you idiot.”

Slightly offended, but more motivated, Tyler stood up from the table and finally took the last sip of his beer. It was warm, but he used it as a final attempt at some liquid courage, before striding off after you. The crowd of people was thick, but he was confident that no matter where you were, you’d stand out.

Sure enough, he spotted you across the bar. You had left your glass on the counter and were currently shifting through your bag, looking for something. Tyler took a deep breath before walking over.

He called your name, which he was proud to now know, causing you to look up from your things.

“Tyler, hey,” you said, unable to hide the surprised smile that crept across your face.

“So that was pretty weird, huh–” Tyler tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but all he did was realize how dry his mouth was.

You bit your lip, “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make it weird– I just– I was scared. He was so creepy, and you just looked like you’d make a good fake date…”

Oh my god, what were you saying? You were rambling, like you always did when you were nervous. You took another sip of your drink, wishing it was something stronger.

But a smirk crept up on Tyler’s face, like he could tell you were floundering.

“Oh yeah?” His voice was playful. “And how do you think I’d be as a real date?”

Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach as you clenched down on your jaw, trying to play it cool. But it was hard to remain casual when you were pretty sure Tyler was asking you out.

Your voice was hitched slightly higher than normal when you responded, “I think I’d like to find out sometime.”

Tyler flashed his white teeth in a stunning smile before nodding back towards the table he’d just come from. “How about we start now? I got a hankering for some wings, what do you say I get us a plate to share?”

With no hesitation, you reached for his outstretched hand.

“Should we eat before or after I kick your ass at pool?” you smiled sweetly.

#tyler owens #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x reader fanfic #tyler owens x reader imagine #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens x you #twisters imagine #tyler owens twisters #twisters #twisters fic

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servicpop · 9 months ago

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✶ ﹑ㅤtutoring seshㅤ﹏

NOW STARRING : adrien x bottom m!reader

「ㅤNSFWㅤ」ㅤtutor sesh w/ your deliquent situationship but he can't focus on the studying, only you!

✙ warnings — parents are home , manhandling(?) , obsessive 'n a little pervy adrien , slight hair pulling , bodyworship(?) , Adrien is a little silly in this fic

notes ,, this was supposed to be short but I got carried away ^^;

Adrien had called you over to his house for a "tutoring session." For past few weeks, Adrien has been near-failing practically every single class except for gym class and whatnot. Realising he needed to improve his grades or he'll never graduate with you, he called you on one faithful evening to come over and help him study.

Obviously you complied; it was nice to see Adrien showing some sort of motivation to improve, so you changed into some casual clothes and began to walk to his house. You had prepared your laptop, pencil case, and textbooks, all ready to put in a few hours of tutoring. When you arrived at his front door, you grazed the back of your knuckles against the wood and knocked once or twice, expecting Adrien to show up with a proud smirk like he always did.

But it wasn't Adrien. When the door swung open, you saw his mother. You've only seen her once or twice but never up-close like this. The words caught in your throat as you clutched the straps of your bags, trying to find the words that never came. As if heaven answered your prayers, you saw Adrien jogging down the stairs and to the door, leaning on the door frame with his arm held above his head.

"You came," He grinned, taking the bag from your shoulders as he pulled you inside by your wrist. He helped you take off your shoes cinderella style and neatly placed them beside the doorway. He was awfully caring right now. Your hands felt crammy as you took a glance at Adrien's mother watching the two of you interact, a small blush dusted your ears while you quickly turned away. It must've looked like you were dating with the way she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, mom, we'll be in my room if you'd excuse us," Adrien flashed a toothy smile at his mother before snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. As he walked you up the stairs, Adrien found an opportunity to tease you, "You nervous meeting my mom?" He asked, squeezing your sides playfully. You shoot him an unamused gaze and he lets out a hearty chuckle from that. Adrien's hand wrapped around his gold doorknob, twisting it before he halted for a second. "Uh, wait here for a second, I gotta clean up my room," he didn't even wait for a response before slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

"Shit," Adrien muttered under his breath as he quickly shoved the polaroids and photos of you from his desk and into his drawer. He couldn't let you see how god damn obsessed he was about you. He couldn't let you see the photos of yourself stained with a white sheen, no, he wouldn't want to scare you off.

Adrien finally emerged from his room, pushing the door wide open for you to come in with a smile. You didn't question it. As you walked in, you were instantly hit with the scent of his cologne and natural musk. It wasn't a strong enough scent to burn your nose but it would still take you awhile to get used to it. Besides the scent, Adrien's bedroom was relatively clean for a guy who was titled 'the school deliquent.' He had a few sports posters plastered on the walls and his shelf had a few trophies from his childhood. You spotted the baseball bat leaned up against the wall alongside with the volleyball and basketball resting next to eachother. Adrien was sure athletic.

As you two sat down beside your desk, you pulled out all the equipment needed for studying and turned to Adrien, "What do you wanna study?" You asked him and got a small shrug in response. Well, why not start with biology since you conveniently happen to have a textbook that covered the subject.

Around 30 minutes pasted and you were diligently teaching him about human anatomy, glancing over to see him nodding once or twice. You thought it was going well but Adrien on the other hand... He was too focused on the way your hands glided against the pages, tapping the pen against the paper rhythmically, and how your eyes fluttered to him ever so often. Shit, he was horny as hell right now. Just the thought of those hands intertwining with his as he fucks the intelligence out of you is enough to get his blood pumping to the wrong places.

"Adrien? Are you listening?" Your voice snaps him out of his twisted fantasies and he leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping down to a whisper, "You know, I'm a hands-on, visual learner..." That shit-eating grin spread across his face as Adrien pat his lap enticingly, trying to draw your attention to the print in his sweatpants. But knowing you, you wouldn't give in so easily — you were called here to tutor him, not anything else.

"Just answer one more question and I'll—" Before you could even finish your sentence, Adrien's arms wrapped around your waist and he hoisted you up from the chair, practically slinging you over his shoulder. His forearms flexed around you, making sure you didn't fall before placing you on his bed, the mattress dipped from the sudden weight. "Try to be quiet 'kay? My parents are home," He nipped at the shell of your ear before hastily undoing your belt and sliding your pants off. Did he care that his parents could come in at any moment? No, but it was much more exciting to see you try and keep quiet.

"Can we kiss?" Adrien's voice was almost whiny, his eyelashes batted at you innocently — even though he was far from innocent. Nonetheless, you didn't respond, you've set certain boundaries that prevented you and him from getting attached (even though you may or may not have broken it a couple of times). "No," it was a simple, sharp answer that Adrien grumbled at. He understood where you were coming from, he was a bad influence and you were this goody-two-shoes. But he couldn't deny the part of him that wanted something more than just meaningless flings. He huffed, murmuring a small, "How can I study the muscles of a tongue then?"

Scooping you up back into his arms, Adrien ignored your small protests and shifted your position so that your stomach would lay flat against his bed. His hands met the back of yours, pinning you down as he slotted each of his fingers in the spaces between yours. "What happened to studying, Adrien?" Your scolds were muffled by Adrien's pillow and seemed to fall short of his ears. As he held you down, he grinded his hips against your ass, groaning softly from the pure excitement he felt. It had been a few months since he was about to get his hands on you, your pictures just wasn't as good as the real thing.

"Calvin klein hm?" Adrien chuckled softly, trailing his hands from the back of your palm, to your shoulders, down your spine, and to the waistband of your boxers, "Next time don't wear anything." His fingers hooked the elastic before pulling it down and off your legs. You couldn't see what he was doing from your position, and every touch made your skin jump, he was so unpredictable. His fingers traced the curve of your ass before spreading them apart to see your hole. "This is the anus right?" He asked, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"—Yes," you hesitated to answer him, he was obviously playing games with you, but there was no harm in humoring him. You heard the faint rustling of clothes before you felt something prod at your entrance. You sucked in through your teeth, was he seriously going to do this with no lube? "Sorry, don't got any on me right now." It was like he read your mind and instead dipped his head down to lick a stripe over your hole. It tickled, and your body naturally jerked away from it before he grabbed your hips and held them down one more. Weirdo.

He shuffled behind you, placing two knees on either side of your legs and his fingers angled your hips a little bit up. The slight burn of Adrien pushing into you made your fingers curl around his pillow, gripping it like your life depended on it. He slowly pushed in, filling you up until his hips met your ass. Even if your skin was flushed against his, Adrien pushed impossibly deeper inside of you until he could feel his tip press against your prostate. His hands tightened around your waist, stopping you from squirming and forcing you to take it.

"Is this your prostate?" He asked, his voice slightly trembled from the pleasure that coursed his veins, he was trying so hard to control himself. This time you ignore him, you know well that he knew. From the lack of a response, Adrien let out a breathy laugh before he finally decided to move, pulling out almost all the way before slamming into you. Your eyes flew open and your knuckles grew pale from how hard you were holding onto his pillow, your whines were muffled quite well, thankfully.

Adrien groaned ruggedly as he pounded you into his bed, the headboard knocked on his wall with every thrust. "You're being so quiet," He chuckled, reaching a hand out to ruffle your hair affectionate before moving to grab your hand. You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic enough with the way he kept slamming into you like it was a punishment. Everytime he pulled out, he cooed at the way your hole would suck him back in like it missed him. "Fuck, I just can't with you," He let out a shaky breath as he rolled his hips against you, pushing further and further, trying to reach places he couldn't before.

He was reaching so deep that tears began to blur your vision, everything felt so overwhelming but numb at the same time. He leaned down to press kisses on your knuckles as he held your hand tightly under his own. His hips were relentless, slapping against yours, you were sure he'd leave your bruised and sore tomorrow. It was like he completely forgot they weren't alone in his house. In fact, Adrien's fingers moved from your hand to your hair, threading them through each strand and grabbing a handful, tugging it gently so your head would lift from the pillow.

"Kiss?" He asked once more, his lips already ghosting over yours. At this point you didn't care, all you could feel was how Adrien was throbbing inside you and how your dick rubbed against his white sheets with every thrust. "Fine," you exhale and he took the opportunity almost immediately, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss as he pulled your hair back for more access. His tongue pushed past your lips, exploring your mouth while simultaneously keeping your moans contained.

The dim lighting, the way your eyes fluttered and threatened to roll back, his dick pulsing inside you, it was all too much for his perverted brain. "Gonna cum," he muttered against your lips, biting on your bottom lip. He his hands return to your hips and his head falls over your shoulder. You could feel your own orgasm building up as your body started to squirm, you cock growing sensitive from the constant rubbing against Adrien's sheets. Adrien paused his thrusting just to pull out completely and shove himself back in, causing a loud whine rip from your throat and you body jolting.

Your cum splattered across the bed as Adrien smiled against your shoulder, keeping you from squirming as he came inside you, filling you with his semen. With a few more wet thrusts, Adrien finally stilled, watching as his own cum bubbled around his dick as he nestled deep inside you. "We should do this again, hm? Next time we can study our chemistry," his arms snaked up your body to wrap them around your shoulders, capturing you in a bear hug as he looked up at you with a goofy smile.

"What's with you and being so corny?" You groan, pushing his face away from you.

a/n: i luv adrien sosososo much ... wish he real ,, also not sure if he was a bit ooc here ,, a bit sillier than usual but I hope you guys like it ♡

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #oc x male reader #x male reader #oc smut #mlm ns/fw #sub male reader #top character

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year ago

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♡︎ 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖 ♡︎

characters: priest!sub!blade x demon lord!nb!dom!reader

warnings: breeding, creampie, eating out, fingering, squirting, monsterfucking, non-verbal ask of consent, dirty talk, feminization (like literally), lactating, nipple stimulation, overstimulation, dacryphilia, size kink, belly bulge, cervix kissing, blade is a demon hunting priest, reader is a demon lord so they can choose whether to have a cock or pussy so basically genderfluid reader???? also reader changes blade’s anatomy to have a pussy and womb — it’s so messy okay😭😭

word count: 4.4K

notes: you KNOW shit is getting real when nobu starts word count. never thought i would be writing a bit of a dark-ish content yet here we are. the power of the horny😔 also inspired by my chat with one of ririshizu’s bots

special thank you to @theblades and @yenaakwyl for proofreading a whole damn 14 pages of filth

being a priest is no laughing matter. especially when you’re the type of priest that hunts and gets rid of demons who somehow ended up with a demon lord clinging to you, who’s constantly at your side, asking you questions about the human realm.

what was up with you, anyways? a literal demon lord, one of the lords of a deadly sin and yet here you were, dragging him around the streets, pointing at random things, wanting to sample every street food there were. sure, your human form was incredibly deceiving. a short, sweet human, clinging to his arm, excitedly pointing at the many different things that caught your attention. it would be hard for anyone to think of you as a demon lord in disguise.

except for blade. he’s been in this field of work for such a long time. constantly vanquishing demons who either were too annoying or possessed a poor, curious soul. the sharp edge of his shard sword is no laughing matter.

but you didn’t seem to mind. this demon lord, acting like a curious puppy, pulling him to each sides of the streets — ignoring the loud angry shouts of the car drivers and the constantly thinning of his wallet of course. not that blade had much to worry when it came to financial freedom. putting his life on the line and vanquishing demons from the human realm pays a generous amount.

it felt wrong to allow you to cling to him. you, a demon lord, no matter what your disguises meant or whatever pathetic excuse you came up with of wanting to sample human food. he should have gotten rid of you sooner yet no matter how much his hands twitch to unsheathe his shard sword, he just can’t seem to do it. no matter what his threats may seem or be heard of, the priest just can’t bring himself to harm you. if anything, he finds himself doing the absolute opposite, to his blatant horror.

“wait, no, don’t do that. the water just boiled so it’s hot, it could burn your tongue”

“you do realize that ice isn’t meant to be eaten, right? no, i don’t care how much of a pretty shape it’s in or if it still has the aftertaste of the coffee”

“if you eat too much raw red pepper, you could have a heart stroke. 14 is enough on one sitting. give it here”

yes, you get the point. a priest vanquishing demon, living together with a demon lord and even protecting them. hypocritical, right?

one night, as you two were cuddling on the couch and absentmindedly watching cliche horror movies that has demons with red skin and horns and a tail, that reminded something to blade. demons have unique demon forms depending on their sins and ‘birth’. but you never once showed an ounce of your demon form. not even a single slip-up.

“hmm? why do you ask? curious?” you hum softly, taking another fistful of the popcorn in the bowl. not that blade minded. if anything, he unconsciously pushed the bowl of popcorn closer to you.

“i guess so. you never even spoke of your demon form whether it has a tail or not” the priest mumbles, his husky voice turning softer just for a moment. or maybe he was just sleepy, judging by his dark eye-bags and little yawns.

oh right, you never did. but then again, blade never asked of your demon form before so, it’s to be expected after all.

just as blade had shrugged off your silence and turned his attention back to the tv, he felt something slithering around his waist. swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he briefly looks down at what was wrapping around his waist. there, snug around his hips was a long, pale white, scaled, snake-like tail. it seemed incredibly long, judging by how it easily wrapped around his hips few times and the rest was just dangling off of the side of the couch.

was this…?

he could feel his hand twitch. itching, something under his skin itching of wanting to reach down and run his hand over the smooth looking scales of the tail.

pat! pat pat!

before blade could even make sense of what the fuck he just did, his hand had unconsciously unraveled from it’s former crossed position. one hand going down, flattening his palm over the smooth, large tail before giving it a few pats. at the same time, he could hear another low pat pat! sounds coming from the side of the couch. must be your tail ends flicking and hitting against the couch, he deducted.

briefly, blade steals a glance at your face. still watching the movie on the TV, seemingly paying no mind to the feeling of his human hand resting over your tail. it was oddly warm to the touch. from the look of it resembling a snake like tail, he expected it to be cold.

slowly, he runs his hand over the scales. soft, smooth and easily gliding over them as if it was nothing. sure, some bumps are felt on the palm of his hand but other than the occasional little ridges, it was completely smooth. how… soothing.

blade doesn’t know how or when but over the course of time you spent at his apartment, these little moments of playing with your tail had become a normal occurrence. little moments of “affection” if you will. fridays had become the weekly movie nights. blade would put on some random horror movie that you chose to be the most interesting based on the summary of the movie. half an hour or so into the movie and blade would feel the familiar scales of your tail wrap around his hips.

the priest would sometimes toy with your tail in hopes of getting you to show your true color of being a demon lord. to make you angry. to make you snap and finally show your true colors. if anything, it had the complete opposite effect as your tail only tightened around him. low, deep rumbling sounds akin to a purr coming from the depths of your chest.

briefly, the priest would catch himself wondering how it would feel to lay his head on your chest as you purr. cats have de-stressing and soothing qualities to their purrs. would demons be the same? sometimes, he would even catch himself thinking of… sacrilegious things. like how your tail would feel wrapped around his legs, opening him up for you. how your form could shapeshift and could have a human male’s anatomy. would you purposefully make it big? would you force it past his twitching rim, uncaring of his whines and pleads to wait?

ah, but that sounded so unlike you. despite being a demon lord, you have been nothing but calm and peaceful with blade. soft hums, nods of agreement, always needing his help and inquiring him of his thoughts on something.

then, would you coax him? whispering soft reassurances in the shell of his ear as you softly push your cock inch by inch inside him. a large, clawed, inhuman hand running over his stomach, talking about all sorts of things, promising to breed him full of your seeds as he cries. opening his legs wide with your tail wrapped around his thighs, wiping away his tears as he cries so prettily?

“f-fuck…” unknowingly, blade found himself with a little problem. another movie night, another time spent together ‘cuddling’. yet due to his own thoughts, blade finds himself embarrassingly hard. shit, he needed to find a way to leave the room and take care of his problem. but your tail way starting to curl around him in loops, just like how a snake would wrap itself around it’s prey.

did you know? know of his raging hard on and was just teasing him now? no. taking a brief glance at your face caused blade to come to a conclusion that you didn’t know. yet. that was the biggest part. or maybe you did considering just how your tail was moving around his waist. slipping under the hem of his shirt, slipping up, curling around his body under his shirt. scale coming in contact with skin. blade almost let out a moan at the feeling if it weren’t for him biting down on his lips.

“[n-name], get your tail off. i need to use the bathroom” internally cursing himself out for stuttering, blade can only hope that you would oblige. gods, just the way you let out a soft “hmm?” while playing innocent, smiling at him and blinking like nothing happened while your tail curls around his skin.

fuck, he was done for. you knew. you fucking knew.

“are you sure? your body seems to react positively from the amount of human interaction that i’ve had until now, blade” the end of your tail circles around his peck. slowly trailing the end as if you were going to squeeze—

“n-ngaah?!” a surprised noise comes from the priest’s mouth before he clenches his jaws shut, brows furrowing together as he tries to ignore the feeling on his chest. soft and slow circles. the end of your tail was wrapped around his nipple, pulling and rolling it between as if it was nothing. shit, when did his chest get so sensitive?

“oh that was a cute sound. do it again” you hum, turning away from the TV and looking at him now. curse you for looking so damn interested and curious as your tail fondles his nubs. blade can feel his pants starting to form a wet patch as his breathing becomes more labored.

“t-take… your goddamn tail off. i swear, i’ll ghh—! chop it into pieces…!” despite his best efforts, his words had no bite. just weak mumblings of a pathetic excuse of a priest being turned on as a literal demon lord tugs at his nipple. he was even starting to quietly whine in place as he tries to swallow down his moans.

“say, blade. i read from somewhere that human chest can lactate when stimulated enough. can you lactate?” blade almost shrieked at your words. lactating? him? while it was true that human women can lactate if they gave birth, he was unsure about men being able to lactate.

“n-no! can’t! i’m a man, it’s impossible for my chest to produce mi—ungh!” his words die quickly in his throat when your tail clenched around his nipple tightly. pulling on it, familiar to a pinching motion. since when did his body get so sensitive like this? or was this all your doing? did you secretly put a spell on him to make him sensitive?

“stop..! [n-name] stop ooungh! please, stop! i’m telling you, i’m a man. i can’t lactate like a woman!” his pleads fall on deaf ears as you slip his shirt off over his head. instead this time, using your hands to knead and fondle his pecks. squeezing, rolling his sensitive nubs between your fingers, even tugging on them. it all got blade letting out uncharacteristic high pitched noises like a cat in heat.

“p-please… stop this, [name]..” blade trails off, red in the face, shame, embarrassment and arousal swirling in his stomach like a hot bubbling lava as he admits defeat and whines helplessly.

“then wriggle yourself out of my tail. it’s loose around you, bladie” you briefly retort as you suckle on his nipple. mouth latched to his chest, biting and planting wet kisses all around his soft pink areola. as weak as his whimpers and pathetic his begging were, he really wasn’t making a single attempt to pull back. you have given him enough chances even now as your tail stays loose around him. yet he still tries to act like he hates it.

switching between giving attention to his two nipples with blade not even thinking of pulling himself out of your tail, the movie plays in the background, long forgotten. you were determined to make this weird human of yours lactate. you can make him!

it didn’t took much longer until blade let out a yelp as a warm liquid drops in your mouth. the taste oddly sweet and a bit thick in texture. realizing that his chest was feeling much more heavier and nipples felt more wetter than before, the priest’s eyes widen in horror and arousal. did you really managed to stimulate him enough to make him lactate?

“oh? so, i was right! humans can lactate regardless of their gender” you let out a soft giggle, internally cheering as a bright smile comes across your face. the sheer amount of exuberance you showed in his lactation had caused blade to feebly attempt to cover his chest.

“don’t! don’t look… it’s embarrassing…” the man whines, shaking hands covering up his leaking nubs. but that proves to be futile as his hands covering his chest had caused him to twitch. everything felt so much and so little at the same time. his poor cock was neglected and weeping, staining his pants as you stimulate his nipples as he whines.

this wasn’t supposed to happen! he wasn’t supposed to be this sensitive to your touches.

but the leaking of his milk had seemed to cause something to stir in your chest. an odd sense of possessiveness and need to claim him growing in your heart, tugging at it. laying your palm flat against his stomach, you rub slow circles onto it. somehow, it had helped to lessen blade’s embarrassment.

“bladie, how would you feel if i were to make you my baby momma?” your voice cuts him out of the trance like state he was in. blinking his eyes a few times with a weak “huh?” as if he hadn’t heard you. with a quiet chuckle, you ask again. repeating the question to him slowly in case he was too pleasure driven.

baby momma? but that’s something that people refer to when women get pregnant right? were you referring to making him pregnant? but that was impossible! he was a man and men had different anatomy compared to women’s!

“i can use a few spells. you would have a female anatomy. but only if you wish to be my baby momma. i would take good care of you and the kids, we’d be together as a cute family. don’t you think we’d be a cute family, blade?” he could briefly hear you hum. but the rest of your words flew over his head since the female anatomy part.

a female anatomy. blade would have a pussy, a womb, cervix the perfect anatomy to get pregnant. he would be a cute baby momma. your baby momma. and he would carry your kids. a child who was half you and half him, a cute bundle of sunshine.

“please… please do. make me your baby momma. i wanna be your b-baby momma..!” blade nods frantically, not even bothering to think over the consequences too deeply. but the prospect of having your kids, of having you inside him got blade rubbing his thighs together, head spinning with all sorts of thoughts as his breathing becomes labored. you said you would take good care of him and the kids! he’ll be in good hands.

although a part of his brain was screaming at him, telling him to withdraw from the touch of your palm running over his stomach, changing his insides, blade could only sit there dumbly. a baby. a cute baby that you two made together. it would be so sweet, so cute. blade couldn’t wait any longer as he silences the logical part of his brain. all he wanted was you now. just you and nothing else.

the process didn’t take long. a few strokes of your hand and soothing whispers to his ear and it was done. or at least, from what you said. and oh fuck, was it true. when you tugged his pants and boxers off, what greeted both of your eyes was a slick pussy, dripping with arousal. seeing how you had successfully changed him, the priest lets out a weak whine, closing his legs to hide himself.

you didn’t seem to like that. clicking your teeth as your tail wraps around his leg, pulling his legs apart and allowing your hungry eyes to feast on his dripping cunt. blade couldn’t help his whine as the feeling of being so empty took place in his head. or was it inside his womb that he felt so empty?

“so sweet. you would look so cute with my cum dripping out of you” you mutter, running a finger up his wet pussy. the action got his hips twitching, trying to make you push your finger inside himself. tutting softly, reminding him to be patient, you slowly ease a finger in. oh gods, the stretch felt so good. so full and filled already despite it being just a single finger that was now slowly massaging his plush walls.

the soft whines and gasps coming out of blade turns into a moan as he throws his head back on the couch. long, navy hair spreading over the mattress as your fingers scissor him open. you would have expected him to be more… reclusive considering his usual act. perhaps you were wrong. the way that blade was throwing his head back, moaning without shame as his warm walls suck your fingers in greedily caused you to almost mistaken him for a virgin. or maybe he was just touch starved. poor thing.

cooing words of how he was doing good, how his gushy cunt was sucking in your fingers so prettily, you lean down to pepper kisses on his clit. long, forked tongue coming out momentarily to slip inside him with your fingers, constantly flicking his clit. the action caused to have made him oversensitive. strong, scarred thighs coming up to wrap around your head, a hand fisting at your locks as loud, pathetic whines of “c-can’t! feelss sho weird! [n-name], can’t—gyuuck! aanh aah♡︎!!” trails off into a high pitched whines as his hips jerk. legs clamping around your head in a vice grip, fisting at your locks tightly as his back arches off of the couch so prettily as he squirts in your mouth. ah right, in your own haze, you’ve forgotten and accidentally pushed your tongue in too far, hitting his g-spot.

well, that was fine. the cold priest sounded so cute and tasted delicious as he twitches under you. it would be fine to fuck him open with your tongue and prepare him thoroughly.

blade doesn’t know what to think anymore. was he even able to think? all he could do was to moan and shriek, trashing about on the bed as something deep and long slithers inside him. his cunt was being fucked open, wet sounds coming out as he gushes all over your mouth, tongue and chin. fluids dribbling down to your chin as you continue to force his legs open with your tail, arms wrapped around his waist and pulling him back into your mouth and fingers.

by the time you thought of him as prepped enough and pull your tongue and fingers out, blade could only weakly whine at the feeling of something pulling out of his warm insides. legs shaking, face flushed as dried tear stains cover his cheeks. his pretty red eyes looked so hazy, mind filled with cotton and statics. you haven’t even gotten to the main part yet!

blade feels something wrap around him. something bigger, warmer and gentle. clawed hands wrapping around his slender waist, pulling him against a massive frame. was this… was he on your real form right now?

tilting his head back to look at you, his hunch proves to be correct. no longer were you in your small human disguise. large, pale white figure with horns, tail and claw holding him in a safe cocoon in it’s embrace. despite having deep hatred against your kin, the priest couldn’t bring himself to hate you. instead, he oddly found your real form beautiful.

“huh…?” his thought gets cut off short when he feels something poke at his entrance. looking down, a sharp gasp escapes him. by the gods were you huge. girthy and long, thick with need and ready to fill him to the brim with your seeds. blade wasn’t sure if he could take such a large thing inside himself as he instinctively shut his legs close.

almost as if sensing his inner worries, you place a hand over his stomach, other hand spreading his legs wider to make it easier for you to slip in.

“don’t worry, pet. i’ll make sure it fits” your deeper, almost inhuman voice hums right beside his ear, sending shivers down his spine. although your words were soothing, the large tip of your cock pushing past his walls, opening his cunt wider was definitely not comforting. fuck, just the tip inside and blade was already thrashing about, shaking his head and stuttering out how he can’t fit it inside him.

“w-wait! w-won’t hhgh fit! ish too big! too bigtoobigtoobig—! m-my lo—oough! aanh! ish t-too fu-uck! big♡︎♡︎” the human squeals, cries, sobs and moans. loud lecherous noises coming from both his mouth and cunt. wet noises flooding the room alongside the low grunts and deep growls. you sounded inhumane, you felt inhumane but blade loved it all the more. the priest loved being spread open by your large cock, pushing past his hole, feeling his plushy walls and insides. ah, he could die happily filled to the brim like this.

finally, after long minutes of slowly easing yourself inside, you managed to fit your cock inside him. snug to the brim, tip kissing his cervix and making blade squeal. legs shaking and twitching, he came on your cock again at the feeling of your tip kissing his cervix. he saw that you were big but not this big! gods, he felt so damn full.

“so pretty, my mate. so full of me and i haven’t even fucked you properly yet” you grunt, deep, inhumane voice breathing by his ear and making him shake and twitch in your grasp like a sweet fawn. blade wouldn’t mind being a sacrificial lamb to you.

through tear stained eyes and blurry vision, he could make out the faint outline of your cock in his stomach. you were too big to the point your were causing a bulge inside him by just slipping your cock inside. how full would he feel after you have properly made him a baby momma? cunt weeping out a mixture of your cum, belly bulging so cutely. just the imagination of such action made blade buck his hips weakly. too fucked out to even utter a word.

feeling the pathetic excuse of movement of your cock, you let out a low laugh. tail wrapped around one of his legs, the other held open by your hand as you finally bounce him on your cock. slowly, slipping yourself in and out and yet the priest in your hand was sobbing as he blabbers deliriously about being fucked dumb on your cock. of having your babies inside his own womb. of being your sweet mate.

blade was a big guy. in human terms and physique wise, he was big. and yet in your lap, held open by your hands, back to your chest as he allows himself to be dumbed down on your girth made blade realize just how damn small he was compared to you. sure, he was big in human terms but compared to you, he was absolutely nothing. just a small hole for you to use. a fleshlight to be filled with your cum until you were satisfied. your baby momma to have his chest fondled and squeezed until his chest grows sore and heavy. milk leaking out it small globs from his sensitive pink nipples.

“my pet. my cute mate. my sweet other half. my adorable breeding bitch uhng… so fucking tight. so warm and tight like the cute little thing you are” blade could briefly hear you groan, heavy breaths falling on his neck, making him shiver at each breaths. making him cry and moan in a shrill voice like a girl each time your cock slid inside him. plunging deeper into parts he never knew before, grazing that one soft spot that made him shriek, tip hitting his cervix at each thrust. blade was so sure that it was bruised now. not that he minded it, the pain felt good to him.

“y-yours—! yours yours yours! your c-cute ma—aaanhg! aaanh haagh gyaaamf♡︎ y-your mate. your oouungh other half. y-your adorable♡︎ breeding bitch—!” blade’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, head throwing back to your shoulder when he felt your hand press on the bulge in his stomach. it felt good. so good that he immediately squirted on your cock again at the sheer pleasure the pressure brought.

but of course you wouldn’t stop. you would keep going, forcing his small body to bounce on your cock, occasionally tweaking his nipples, rolling his clit between your fingers. you were damn adamant on making him pregnant, breed him until you were damn sure he was knocked up.

he was yours. your human. your mate. your fated other half. your cute breeding bitch and you would be damned all over again if he ends up not getting pregnant by the time you’re done. blade was yours. no one else would ever take him away from you. no one. no one no one no one, no one else—

“AAANGH! M-MY LORD♡︎ c-cock giick! sho full…” the human shrieks and twitches in your grasp, legs weakly thrashing around as you finally cum deep inside him. the warmth of your seed spurting inside his gummy walls, painting his insides white causing blade to cum again. blade felt so full, the skin of his stomach stretching a bit to accommodate to the great amount of cum that was inside him. it felt so warm and sticky. messy, as it dribbles down your shaft, his small human body unfit to keep it all inside himself.

“my cute mate…” you purr softly, arms wrapping around your mate as he twitches and shakes. cheeks stained with old and new tears, jaws slack with drool dribbling down with his face as red as his eyes. he was yours now. blade was your human now. the weird priest was yours and no one would ever take him away from you.

“mine” with that final declaration, you placed a soft kiss to the crown of his head. he seemed to relax at the kiss, sinking against your chest as he black out. that was fine. you’ll make sure to breed him again once he wakes up.

5K notes · View notes

rinhaler · 8 months ago

Note

I’m begging you to write a bimbo x Toji fanfic

IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE IM BEGGING YOU🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Been in a BJ mood so enjoy some 69ing xoxo

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, bimbo!reader, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), daddy kink, spanking, 69ing, messy blowjob + pussy eating (duh), head pushing, praise, dumbification, degradation, age gap, exhibitionism ig?

words: 2.1k

“He’s not here, sweetheart.”

The bass of his voice rattles throughout your nervous system. And before you know it, you’re squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip as you look up at him, the way he almost entirely fills the space between the door frame. A slow smirk beginning to play on his lips as he watches you.

You’ve had a crush on your best friends dad since the first time he brought you over to hang out. He didn’t seem particularly interested in you, at first. Not until your skirts got shorter and your tops became skimpier.

“We had plans…” you pout a little, glossy lips shimmering in the afternoon sun. He clears his throat, adjusting his stance a little as he continues to look down at you.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, a little more curtly than intended. “And what plans were those?”

“Mm,” you hum, flicking through your texts to pull up your thread with Megumi. “Wanna hang out on Thursday? I can get us some booze and we can relax around the pool. My dad will be at wor— wait, you’re not at work?”

“Because it’s Monday, baby. Not Thursday.” he laughs a little as he shows you the date on his own phone. “Got a little confused there, huh? He’s at the library with the pink haired one, he ain’t here.”

“Oh…” you pout again. “’m sorry. I guess I should be studying too, I’ll go meet him there. See ya later Mister Fushiguroooo~!” you smile before beginning to skip away.

“Hey,” he calls after you. A grin quickly spreads across your face before you turn to face him again. He kisses his teeth, looking you up and down slower and more purposefully than ever before. He curls his finger, prompting you to come closer. “You’re all dressed for the beach, not the library. You can come in ‘n wait for him here, baby. You even brought your li’l swimsuit in your bag, huh? Come on.” he tilts his head as he walks inside.

You follow him hurriedly, closing the door after yourself when you enter. He doesn’t wait around for you, jogging up the stairs and shutting the door loudly after himself. You huff, wondering what the point of coming inside was if you’re just gonna be waiting by yourself anyway.

It doesn’t deter you, though. You dip into the downstairs bathroom and change into your swimsuit, sauntering outside to set up a lounger so you can at least catch a few rays before Megumi gets back.

You lay back, immediately feeling your skin heat up as the sun burns down onto your still body. There’s a lack of breeze, and the warmth soon becomes suffocating.

But soon enough, the sun disappears. Your eyebrows scrunch at the sudden change, your body plunged into shade and your temperature drops. You open your eyes, your best friends obscenely large father blocking out the ball of fire as he stands above you.

“Here, keep hydrated.” he orders, putting down a fruity looking cocktail filled to the brim with ice by your side. His white, open shirt begins to billow from a brief gust of wind, and he takes his seat with his own drink on the lounger beside yours.

He wasn’t avoiding you after all, he was getting changed.

You lean over, taking a small sip of the cocktail by your side. “Oh shit, that’s so yummy. Did you make it?”

He smirks again, but keeps his eyes closed as he lays back under the shade of his parasol. “Nah, the butler did it.”

“Really?” you ask, excitedly.

He can’t help but laugh at your naivety, turning his head to look at you. “No, sweetheart. Have you ever seen a butler around here? Course I made it.” he tells you, drinking in your bewildered expression as how gullible you are begins to dawn on you. “You ain’t too bright, are ya?”

“That’s—” you speak instantly, but put your drink back down to soak up the sun once more. “Mean.”

“Awe, sorry darlin’,” he smiles at you, but you don’t see it. “At least you’re pretty.”

He angles his head to face the sun, while yours snaps to look at him. You can’t hide your wide, cheesy smile as the words race through your mind.

At least you’re pretty.

At least you’re—

“You think I’m pretty?” you blurt out, though you feel no shame as the words leave your mouth. It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard another human being say to you in your life. Megumi’s hot dad thinks you’re pretty.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?” he faces you, finally, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. “You’re a gorgeous little thing, that’s for sure. Gonna give an old man like me the wrong idea, walkin’ around in a skimpy swimsuit like that.”

“The wrong idea?” you tilt your head at him. “I dunno what you mean, Mister Fushiguro.”

“Mmm, I betch’a don’t. I love li’l airheads like you.” he sneers. “Or maybe you know exactly what I mean, ‘n you’re just pretending to be dumb.”

You pout again as you think about what he’s saying. He watches you as you try and understand his words, the notion of pretending to be anything utterly perplexing you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though he’s a little surprised to see you roll onto your side so you can look at him properly.

“… Are you flirting with me?” you wonder.

“Hah,” he snickers. “You’re really tryna get me in trouble, huh? Would ya like that?”

“… uh-huh…” you nod slowly, biting your lip again. You watch as he smirks at you, adrenaline running through your veins as you wonder where this is heading. Is he simply teasing you?

“Have you got a li’l crush on me, sweetheart? That’s real bad. Remember who I am? Your best friends old man.”

“You’re not an old man,” you try to assure him. But he can only laugh at your idiocy once more. “Had a crush on you forever…” you admit, getting up from your lounger and walking over to his. You decide to take the risk, moving each of your legs on either side of him before slowly lowering yourself.

He bites his own lip, aged scar pulling deliciously as he smooths his hands over the curves of your waist. A grunt rumbles through his throat as you barely move, lightly humping against his stiffening cock.

And in an instant, your bikini is soaked.

You rut your hips more, and more, until he holds you still.

“Wanna fuck.” you whimper, and he starts to tut.

“Mmm, me too. Maybe next time.” he thinks, cock flexing as he imagines the feeling of your tight walls wrapping around him so perfectly. “Wan’ you to put that empty head of yours to good use.” he tells you.

A dazed expression decorates your face as you try and decode what he means. But instead of leaving you confused, he carefully pushes you away from his growing bulge so he can pull out his leaking length.

“Go on, princess. Suck me off.” he tells you.

You’re too astonished by the sight of his cock to even move. A beautiful thickness with a gorgeous curve you can only use as a fantasy for future reference as you imagine it hitting and stretching every spot inside.

He’s amazed that you don’t need to be told twice, however, you soon position yourself to take his length into your salivating mouth. You look up at him with wide, wet eyes as you kiss and suck his tip. Only looking away to spit into your hand, using it to jerk him off whilst you continue to suck like your life depends on it.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even taken aback as you further pull down his beach shorts to free his balls. He’s besotted at the sight of you, completely and wholly lovestruck as you produce enough saliva to completely soak his length, spittle dripping and sliding as it drenches his cock and balls. He winces as you cup them, licking up and down his cock before you suck one into your mouth.

All the while, your eyes are on him. Never before has he felt embarrassed whilst receiving head. But right now, he feels entirely at your mercy. He holds your gaze, though, intent on overriding the feelings of embarrassment as you turn him into a grunting and groaning puddle.

“Fuuuuuck, sweetheart,” he grins, chest heaving as you don’t let up on him. Your fist becomes a blur, and even still, he can’t stop himself from thrusting into your grip. “Pretty little girl… look s’cute with your mouth full’a my cock.”

You moan, at that. The praise overwhelming you enough to release one of his balls from your mouth before you go back to sucking him off. You take him deeper and deeper, as deep as you can take him without showing any signs of gagging.

“Such a good cocksucker for me, baby,” he tells you as he starts to push your head down on him. “Knew that an airhead like you would be a fucking pro.”

“G-Got such a big dick, daddy.” you tell him as you push off of him, desperate to tell him. He drags you up closer to him, kissing you sloppily as your body presses into his. You lie comfortably in his embrace in the shaded spot, moaning into his mouth as you grind down on his cock. “P-Please fuck me.”

“Oh, princess… does your little cunt need daddy’s attention?” he wonders, kissing you again. “Told ya, I want my cock sucked.” he slaps your ass. “Move, go on.” he orders, though despite his instruction, he begins to manhandle you.

You’re soon positioned so you’re practically sitting on his face while his throbbing cock is back in yours. He moves the material of your bikini into the crease of your thigh and gives your pussy a light spank.

“Don’t stare at it, sweetheart. Suck my cock, now.”

You immediately do as you’re told, taking him down your throat while he teases you enough to have you trembling. Touching anywhere and everywhere except where you need him most. Until finally, he places a delicate kiss between your sodden folds.

“Baby, she’s drooling. You really do have a crush on me.” he chuckles. He wastes no more time, after that, burying his face between your thighs and slurping up your lewdness. He moans into your folds before he shoves two fingers into your clenching hole.

His cock falls from between your lips, then, and you moan loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear you. He slaps your ass again, and it’s hard. “Shut up.” he warns. “I won’t let you cum if you do that again.”

The warning is enough to make you focus yourself on his pleasure. His mouth is making your toes curl and your head become emptier than even he thought possible. Tears begin to flow from your eyes as you do all you can to prioritise him and keep your moans to yourself.

Your throat tightens and constricts the more you withhold. You can’t control it fully, still humming around him. It’s somewhat calculated, yes. But the thought of being caught or ratted out to Megumi is making him a little more cautious. Then again, if he really didn’t wanna be caught, he wouldn’t be fucking his sons best friend in the backyard.

He pulls away, still curling his fingers into your g-spot as his face shimmers from your sticky folds. “Can’t believe you called me daddy you little slut,” he spanks you. “That’s right, isn’t it baby? You’re daddy’s dumb little slut.”

“Mhmm!” you mewl. “Mmm, mmm, mmm~!” you whine as you begin to unfurl. Your cunt squeezes hard enough to almost break his fingers, though it doesn’t deter him from devouring you whole. He begins to thrust up into your mouth, and he shoots ribbon after ribbon of hot white cum between your drool soaked lips.

Neither of you move, both exhausted from the overwhelming release.

“Wh— Did that just… happen?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Sure did,” he laughs, slapping your ass as he does. “You need to give me your number, baby. I gotta be able to text you when Megumi ain’t home.”

“Hm…” you consider it. “Why would I come over again when Megumi isn’t here?”

“God, princess, you really can’t think why? Daddy wants to be able to split your pussy open on his cock whenever he wants. Don’t want Megumi home for that, do ya baby?”

“N-No…” you sigh dreamily, closing your eyes as you finally move to lie comfortably beside him. “You better fuck me next time!”

“Next time?” he grins. “Megs won’t be home for a few hours. I’ll fuck you in a few minutes, sweetheart.”

1K notes · View notes

blkkizzat · 1 year ago

Text

ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟐 (part 1)

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV/SA mentions (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, LOTS of teasing/foreplay, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 9.9 of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: I had no idea so many people would be this hyped for Part 2. No really, I'm shocked! But It gets real here peoples! Lots of smut and dark shit below so please read the content warnings! I don't want no crying in the mentions and DMs cause y'all should know how out of pocket I am by now and I took it there lmfao.

If you riding with me still Thank You for putting up with my OCD bullshit and for all the support, comments and reblogs on Part 1! y'all real asf & ilysm

Enjoy!

Previously:

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.”

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag.

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off.

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

☠

Sigh.

For the first time ever in your life you are miserable at a party.

To say you had been excited leading up to today would have been an understatement. The initiation party after rush was one of the biggest events in the greek system and you had led the charge this year in planning the party.

Nevertheless, any cheerful enthusiasm you held had been trampled on by the disaster that had taken place earlier in the day with Choso.

If getting out of going wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth you would have faked being sick. It’s not like you hadn’t already stressed yourself into a headache.

Yet here you were suffering through, completely sober. Not even being able to bring yourself to drink away your problems.

How could you even pretend to enjoy yourself when your forced smile cracked as soon as the mental image of Choso’s icy expression looped through your mind?

Your chest got a little tighter each time you remembered and it frazzled your nerves.

Just about everyone and everything annoyed you right now.

Even the party: Hunter vs Hunted, one of your favorites, was soured.

Typically the theme entailed girls dressed up as various exotic animals or woodland creatures and the boys dressed as safari game hunters or woodsmen. But this time around, no thanks to singular frat boy hivemind, they all got the bright idea to collectively cosplay as Ghostface.

Taking a new meaning on Hunter.

They couldn’t carry knives on campus of course so they all carried around metal bats which they probably stole from the baseball team.

Sure, let’s all dress up as the masked serial killer while he is still on the loose.

You rolled your eyes.

The pilfered bats were a hazard waiting to happen too. You could only be thankful that the party was at Dean’s frat and not your own sorority so him and the rest of those idiots could fuck their own shit up once they inevitably got way too hammered and started swinging them around.

You mostly just wished they hadn’t changed the plan without telling you.

Then at least you could have dressed up in line with the horror theme and wouldn’t have had to wear this sexy Bambi costume which although skimpy, the fur parts made it way too hot to be wearing in a crowded party indoors.

On edge and not being able to leave, you did the next best thing and sequestered yourself in the kitchen pantry.

It was spacious and a lot cooler than the rest of the house.

You made yourself look busy in there by restocking snacks and making sure there was an ample supply of red cups ready to go around for the keg.

When someone did notice you tucked away, you gave the best fake smile you could muster and made-up an excuse not to join in on whatever drinking game they were playing promising you would ‘catch up in a minute.’

Fortunately for you, most of your friends and sorority sisters were a bit too faded by this point to notice you missing and never joining in.

Maybe a bit longer and you could slip out unnoticed?

That was your plan at least until you felt Dean throw an arm over you from behind.

“There you are babe!”

Urgh.

The overwhelming ick and nausea you felt from him touching you rivaled your worst hangover.

You immediately shrug him off.

“Come on babe don’t be like that. Get a freshman to take over. We're gonna play rage cage.”

You threw Dean a wary look.

You try to tell him you aren’t in the mood but of course your selfish dickhead of a boyfriend ignores you.

Dean then proceeds to pull your arm and lead you out of the pantry through the kitchen.

On a different day you probably would have just given in, easier to go along with the flow than cause an issue. Today however was different and the last thing in the world you wanted to do was play fucking rage cage with a bunch of horny frat boys who were just trying to get girls drunk enough to fuck.

“Goddamnit, Dean I said no!”

Your tolerance had boiled past its limits.

You forcibly snatch your hand back, knocking some empty bottles over on the counter in the process which come crashing down to the floor shattering into pieces.

Your words and movements dripped with so much aggression you surprised yourself, Dean and the people around you who had turned to see what the commotion was.

”No? No? You’re really telling me no Y/N? After you’ve been acting like a fuckin’ bitch all day since I crashed your make out session with that freak.”

Immediately self-conscious, your eyes darted around the crowd of people that had now turned their full attention toward you.

You hated confrontation and never wanted to be that couple fighting at a party.

Ducking down quickly, you begin to pick up the shattered pieces of bottled glass on the floor.

The pounding of your headache against your temples grew feverishly and the harsh fluorescent kitchen lights started to make you feel faint, you hoped Dean would just let this go if you backed down.

“Look, we’ll talk about that later, ok? Just please don’t be an asshole Dean, I really don’t feel good right now.”

You pleaded with him, quietly trying to quell the situation.

But true to his infamous asshole nature, Dean wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He wanted to humiliate you as he felt you humiliated him in front of his friends earlier with that nobody loser.

”Now, I’m the asshole?” Dean questioned to his frat brothers smugly.

“Hey, maybe I am for having a girlfriend like Y/N, who would slut herself out for a grade in front of the entire quad!”

Dean had all but yelled that last part out. Your drunken clown of a boyfriend didn’t care if he caused a scene at your expense.

Now you had the full attention of everyone in the kitchen.

You took a shaky breath as you stood up and felt the crunch of broken glass beneath your heels.

An unfamiliar sensation of rage rises within you.

It really wasn’t in your nature to be angry even when you were upset, you mostly just cried but now you were pissed to say the least.

He has some fucking nerve.

Especially when you knew no one starting on the football team studied at all and were all automatically passed through whatever easy bullshit major they signed up for.

“Dean–”

You start yet pause for a moment, trying to keep your cool.

“–you know how hard I study.”

Twisting the proverbial knife in your back to wind you up further Dean continued.

“Yeah, Y/N That's what’s so pathetic about it. You get Bs. That pussy ain’t even good enough for an A. I would know.”

Collective gasps, snickers and whispers arose from around the kitchen. Word had spread of your fighting as more people gathered in the doorway.

Typically this is where you would have run off crying. However, you were exhausted mentally and emotionally. You had already cried for a good hour today while getting ready.

The only emotions you had readily available to tap into was the hidden well of resentment and ire you held for Dean.

“And how would you even know what good pussy is Dean? You can’t last longer than two pumps, is it not all the same for you?”

You snapped back.

Your fists had formed into a tight ball.

You are so enraged you can’t even feel the prick from the broken glass bottle still in your hand puncturing your skin.

How long has it been since you stood up for yourself?

You can’t remember the last time you even fought with anyone like this but it felt good seeing the smug look on his face fall as his friends around him jeered and laughed.

“I know how to settle this Y/N.”

Dean mused as he yanked one of your sorority sisters nearby toward you.

“How ‘bout we ask Aaliyah then, eh? She got more than 2 pumps last weekend after you left the party to go chase after Ghostface–”

Your head snaps to your AKA sister in question, Aaliyah, who looked like she saw a cursed spirit as all the color drained from her face. Her eyes shamefully hit the floor before they met your gaze.

She couldn’t even look at you which only further solidified Dean’s accusations.

So Dean himself confirmed he’d been cheating on you? Cool.

With your own Sorority sister, who you considered one of your besties since you both rushed together?

Even better.

Blood slowly trickled out of your hand to drip on the floor from how rigidly you held onto the glass but the small red puddle went unnoticed as your whole vision was already saturated with the color red when you looked at Dean who hadn’t even finished his disrespectful tirade.

“–Although on second thought, it was probably an excuse for you to go suck off that loser freak TA of yours right?”

More heckles erupted from the crowd around you and you don’t think you have ever hated someone so much in your life as you hated Dean right at this moment.

Sure you were upset with Aaliyah but your fury was purely focused on Dean.

He had some nerve to start so much shit earlier over an almost-kiss when he was fucking your good friend behind your back.

“And how fucking out of her mind was she then, huh Dean? Would she even remember? You pathetic piece of shit...”

You get directly in his face.

“...that limp dick of yours fumbles orgasms like you fumble passes. That’s why we lost the big game last week. And guess what? That's also why we’re now OVER!”

Dean’s bulky build towers over you but he might as well have been 3 feet tall to you as the razor edge of your words eviscerate him.

“So who’s the fucking loser now Dean?”

Everyone in the room was stunned into silence by the venom dripping from someone they had never even heard raise their voice before.

You don't notice anyone else's reactions though as suddenly you became hyperaware of the large fractured piece of bottled glass cutting into you.

Your eyes flickered back to Dean as your hand twitches.

For a fleeting moment you felt an inkling urge to drive the glass in your hand directly into Dean’s smug ass face.

Yet whatever dark fury burned in you was instantly snuffed out as you felt a flood of cold bitter beer splash down on you from Dean’s red solo cup.

”Why don’t you cool off for a bit dear,” Dean cooed at you, mocking you and your now ruined Bambi costume as he and the frat boys around you started to roar with laughter.

That was it.

You were done.

Dean had succeeded in humiliating you.

Any contention or further will to fight within you had dissipated the moment you were doused in beer.

The glass in your hand drops onto the ground as a dull ache radiates from your wound that continues to seep blood onto the floor.

“I hope you realize this is the last time an AKA will grace this sorry ass frat for a party. I’ll see to that. Enjoy the rest of your night fellas!”

The icy air of your words contrasted with the perfect pageant smile you gave them and it unsettled those around you especially as they all notice the blood gushing from your hand.

The crowd immediately parts as you leave. No one dares utter a word to you as you exit the party through the side kitchen door.

You can feel your phone go off as you get a flurry of group texts and missed facetimes. Most of your sisters weren’t even in the kitchen to witness the scene.

You respond to the group chat to tell them just to stay and enjoy the party and turn your phone on ‘do not disturb.’

You just wanted to be alone.

You’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

☠

Choso wore a twisted grin hidden under his Ghostface mask.

The hunter vs hunted party meant a perfect time for him to hunt.

Leaning against a building Choso was shrouded in the dark cover of shadows far removed from campus lights.

Old habits, he mused. There was really no need for him to hide at all tonight.

He could actually walk around openly as Ghostface now without causing alarm seeing as how most of those fraternity morons were dressed up like him tonight.

This made things even easier.

Choso scanned the area for his next prey.

Someone, anyone alone would do.

Choso had been itching to spill blood since he had the enticing inclination to slash your boyfriend’s throat earlier.

Currently he wanted nothing more than to see a violent geyser of blood spurt from his next victim. Having it be a shithead frat guy would only sweeten the kill so he had stalked close to frat row for his latest victim.

There.

Seeing movement in the distance, a lone figure, Choso cautiously advances trailing in the shadows towards them until they come into focus under the street lights.

He nearly does a double take when he recognizes it's you.

Shouldn’t Miss-Perfect-Social-Butterfly be having the time of her life right now with her cretins being crowned queen of the frats or something?

Choso thought bitterly.

That is, until he got a good look at you.

You were wet and shivering as you failed to sniff back the tears pouring down your face.

Despite his desire to stay angry with you, his jaw involuntarily clenches as he had never seen you this upset before.

Something had happened.

Choso confused look turns deadly as vision travels down to see you nursing the hand you cradled to your chest. He recognizes blood running down your forearm to stain your already soiled costume.

A territorial urge swelled within him, not knowing you had inflicted your own injury.

You were his prey.

It was unforgivable for someone else to spill what was his to enjoy.

Choso immediately concluded the cause of it was Dean.

Boyfriend or not he would gladly gut that motherfucker at the drop of a dime.

He hadn’t forgotten how roughly he had dragged you off earlier.

And more importantly how you had let that asswipe drag you off. That honestly had fired his temper more than anything.

A storm of conflicting feelings, Choso yearns to see more of your blood splattered on the ground as much as he secretly covets to have you writhing underneath him.

Should he approach you?

No. Not yet.

Although, he would never have a more perfect chance than now to kill you if he was ever actually going to go through with it.

Securing his knife on the inside of his robe, Choso silently propels himself after you.

Never falling too far behind, he vigilantly watches you from a distance as both your protector and predator.

☠

A warm shower was just what you needed but you were pissed you had to wash your hair 3 times to get the smell of Milwaukee's out, which proved insanely hard to do with one functioning hand.

You could have killed Dean.

No actually though, as you remembered the dark seething compulsion you felt.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you earlier.

Pushing those thoughts to the side though you focused on the gash in your hand, it was pretty gnarly.

You were just thankful the first aid kit in your sorority house had enough gauze and tape until you could get to the campus nurse tomorrow.

You probably needed stitches as any sudden movements had the fragile skin of your palm bleeding again.

Returning to your room in a comfy pink cotton bra and thong you throw your towel over a chair.

You start to reach for your fluffy robe when you see Choso’s black track jacket on your desk. It still had the small coffee stains on it from earlier but you opted to slip into it anyway.

Truthfully, you lied to him.

You hadn’t just been carrying it around waiting to give it back to him.

You had worn it more times this past week than you would willingly admit to anyone.

You even took it on purpose instead of your actual jacket this morning not actually thinking you would run into Choso but when you had seen him, you knew you wanted him to see you in it.

With a sigh of frustration, you dove face first into the pillows of your bed as you curled into his jacket.

It was your only comfort at the moment.

Your mind wanders and you can’t help but think of how better a boyfriend Choso would have been to you.

Dean would never let you wear his jackets, no matter how cold you were. He said you were too air-headed and would ruin or lose it.

Not that he wasn’t right, you definitely were accident prone.

But that's why it had meant so much to you when Choso, not even your boyfriend, had given you his own without a second thought.

You only hoped he didn’t hate you now.

Not that you could blame him if he did.

Even you hated you a bit for even being with a jerk like Dean in the first place no matter how convenient you thought it had been for you.

How could you even face Choso in class next week?

Despite your heart crumpling when you thought of Choso’s cold intimidating gaze being cast upon you again, you admittedly had never seen a look that intense before from anyone.

It was also impossible to forget the ravenous look in his eyes when he was so close to kissing you.

He looked as if he would devour you whole.

God, everything about him was so sexy.

His strong jaw set firm, his eyes dark pools that sucked you in even from memory, his lean muscular body.

You wish you had realized how bad you had been crushing on him sooner. Before everything got so fucked up.

You fidgeted as an ache developed between your legs.

Turning your head to the side you used your bandaged hand to gently push his jacket collar into your face.

It still smelled like him despite how many times you’ve worn it this week and despite the faint smell of old coffee from earlier.

Squirming on your bed, you tried in vain to keep your legs from sliding against each other creating more friction as your body became increasingly hotter.

A shameless whine escaped your lips as you huffed his woody masculine scent in and out.

Your legs rubbed together more eagerly.

Shit, you were so horny.

Still laid flat on your belly you lifted your hips up for access as a manicured finger pressed into your clit toying with yourself from the outside of your pink cotton thong.

Choso was so meticulous, so knowledgeable in everything he did you were sure he knew how to make you cum.

You were desperate for him as you remembered what it felt like when he caught you from falling last week.

How good would his sculpted chest feel pressed into you now?

Would he look at you with the same want that flared across his features when he had gotten a glimpse of your panties you had intentionally put on display for him?

You didn’t miss how it matched the look he gave you when he nearly kissed.

“Choso…”

You moaned out loud.

You could feel the wet spot your teasing was earning you spread over your thong as your cunt continued to drool over your fantasies of him.

Craving more you lifted your ass up higher while your fingers fumbled to slide under the flimsy fabric.

“A-ahhh s-shit Cho– F-fuck!”

You panted as you sunk two fingers into your cunt. You worked to diligently pump them in and out of you as you pressing your palm down firmly over your swollen clit.

Your face buried itself deeper in his jacket as you gasped and your warm breath pushed back against you as you imagined it was his own tickling your neck.

All your senses screamed with want to be consumed by him and you pined for the feeling of his cock stretching your wet cunt instead of your slim fingers that weren’t cut out for the job.

“F-fuck C-Choso.. Mmm, let me cum.”

You practically sobbed when you glided a third finger into your pussy, two wasn’t enough to quell the craze that had overtaken you.

Ironically and unbeknownst to you, Choso (who had hidden himself in your closet during your shower), was mere moments away from losing his own goddamn mind.

Wholly entranced, he listened to you wantonly call for him like a sweet siren song and watched utterly fixated on the way you fiercely finger fucked your pussy like it was his own cock.

All the while in his jacket sniffing the sweaty soiled material like some filthy fucking pervert.

Fuck!

When he had followed you back to the sorority house he had finally resolved to kill you, but now he was at a standstill as there was no plausible way this was actually happening in front of him.

The obscene ASMR of your cunt sloshing rang in his ears and your legs quivered obscenely with you approaching your orgasm.

Your desperate thrusts caused his oversized jacket to ride up to your hips revealing the way your ass bare ass jiggled when you drove your hips down and pushed your digits up deeper into your core that waited greedily to suck them in.

You chanted out Choso’s name with urgency straining your voice as you climaxed. The bed creaked from you now humping the mattress while riding out your high.

Shit you were fucking sexy.

Thought you'd just been toying with him for fun all this time...

Until now.

Choso’s grip on his knife tightened as adrenaline surged through his body.

He could feel the blood pumping through his dick.

He wanted to fuck you.��

Badly.

Give you what you’ve both been needing all this time.

Choso fully bricked, suppressed a hiss through clenched teeth as he palmed the bulge in his pants but remained otherwise still.

He can’t imagine a positive reaction if he burst out of your closet as Ghostface nor could he just take off his mask and pop out of your closet as your TA like he was some fucking creeper.

This was pure agony.

You never failed to find some way to unravel him.

Choso was so tense, his body coiled so tightly, he couldn't control his thigh involuntarily twitching and his knee recoiled against your closet door.

He cursed himself for the millionth time at the lack of control he had around you, he had never had to restrain himself so much around anyone else.

Ecstasy was etched on your features as you looked around puzzled from where the noise came from.

However, the even louder boom of the front door slamming shocked you out of your blissful daze and stole your attention away.

You sat up quickly and wondered if your sorority sisters were back already.

You glanced at the clock.

10:32 pm.

It was still much too early for them to leave.

But who else could it be?

You groaned and reluctantly hopped off the bed, zipping up Choso’s jacket fully to hide the slick between your legs and went out to greet them so you could avoid them coming into your room and return to your solitude as quickly as possible.

You were tired, frustrated and still horny as hell.

You only wanted make yourself cum hard enough you could fall asleep and end this miserable ass day.

☠

“Girls~! You really didn’t have to leave so early~!”

You call out to your sisters.

It was a little late for a show of solidarity if that's what they thought they were doing.

You rolled your eyes.

But it was eerily quiet as you received no response.

That’s odd.

Walking down the hall you froze once the view from the top floor opens into the foyer below and you see the front door wide open.

Not a single soul in sight or to be heard.

“Girls?”

Fight or flight senses kick into gear alerting you to the possible dangers below.

You might be a bit of a ditz but you studied enough forensics and had seen enough scary movies to know how this shit usually ended.

You turn back to run to your room to call someone but stopped as you noticed your phone on the entryway table by the door.

Crap.

Steeling yourself you slowly inched your way towards the staircase, stopping at times to lean over the banister for any signs of someone.

“This isn’t funny girls! You know I’ve already had a really shitty night!”

But only the hollow sound of wind whipping through the door answered you as it swayed on its hinges.

This was an older house.

Maybe you didn’t close the door all the way in the beginning?

No one in your sorority house ever locked the doors, which now you considered probably wasn’t the greatest tradition to keep up while you were at home all alone and a serial killer was on the loose.

You crept down the stairs trying to silence any creaks as best you could.

“I swear on a stack of Vogues if this is a prank you all of you whores will all be on campus clean-up community service duty for the rest of the semester!”

Still nothing but silence as you reached the bottom of the staircase.

The lights were on in the entire house. From what you could tell the den and living room areas surrounding the foyer were empty.

You sighed. Maybe it was just the wind.

You close the door and this time make sure to lock it as you clutch your phone and turn to scamper back upstairs when you feel something grab at you from behind.

“Want to die Y/N?”

You let out a screech as you whip your around to see a figure you recognize as Ghostface reach for you as you stumble backwards into the den.

Tripping over your own feet, you fall back landing on your injured hand and knocking your head against the edge of a coffee table.

A roar of laughter erupts as you groan dazed from the floor.

“You really are a clumsy ditz, babe.”

Puzzled and near concussed, you blink through blurry vision to see Dean pull off the Ghostface mask as he crouches down to your level and leans on his metal bat tauntingly.

Pain blossoms sharply in the back of your head and you can feel the puncture wound on your hand open and saturate your bandage.

“The fuck are you doing here Dean?”

You glared up at him through your one good hand that covered your face as you struggle to get your bearings back.

You couldn’t catch a fucking break tonight.

“Still being a huge bitch even though I came all the way over here to say sorry, eh?”

Dean hummed, brow raised as he chuckled.

“I thought a little fright would put you in a good mood, Y/N.”

“Nice way of apologizing Dean. Insult me, scare me half to death and give me a concussion.”

You knew this man was not sorry at all.

Someone sober enough had probably informed Dean that you did have the power to essentially kill their fraternity’s social life, cucking his entire house for the foreseeable future. They likely sent him to make things right with you ASAP.

But even with all that on the line your tool of an ex was such a huge dick he couldn’t even do the bare minimum to give you a decent apology like an actual human being (not that you would have accepted it).

“I see I was right about one thing though.”

Dean got your attention as he pointed down at the moisture running down your legs.

You immediately pull Choso’s jacket down further to cover yourself.

You couldn’t give a fuck what he thought at this point. You’d confess to fucking the entire Forensics department if got him out of your face.

“Sure Dean, think what you want okay? Just fucking GET. OUT.”

You felt dizzy from the pressure thrumming in the back of your skull.

“Yeah and if I say no whore? Then what?”

Dean slid a clammy hand over your knee which sent another wave of nausea through you, your head spinning.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop his hand traveling lower before you suddenly noticed Dean’s body being ripped away from you entirely.

The scene that followed occurred in a whirlwind as your head felt like it would explode trying to focus on anything.

Your eyes strain to keep up with the action only registering fractions of it through your blurred vision.

You see…blood?

Is it yours?

No. It’s flowing from Dean’s shoulder.

Another person?

…Ghostface?

Yes.

Your double vision struggled to pinpoint exactly what was happening as Dean and the masked Ghostface fought for dominance, somehow ending up back in the foyer.

Dean was barely able to keep the large hunting knife from sinking into his chest.

Was this even real?

Were you really about to witness a Ghostface crime scene in action?

Were you next?

You felt like you were witnessing it all play out through someone else’s body as your mind floated off and you felt more disconnected.

Your awareness faded in and out.

There was no doubt, you definitely had a small concussion.

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up as you finally hear Dean shouting your name although it sounded like you were in a fishbowl.

He had somehow gotten leverage and evened the odds with the killer as they both now had a hold of the blade’s handle.

“Y/N! Pay attention you ditzy ass bimbo! Don’t just sit there looking stupid, get the fucking bat.”

You scanned the floor around you.

Sure enough, there was the scuffed metal bat shining back at you resting by your knees.

Your injured hand grazes it and you see a red trail of blood smearing across it as the cool smooth metal soothes your ruptured skin.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you daydreaming about?! Get your ass over here!”

You grip the bat’s handle, ignoring the pain to use it and the coffee table as leverage to push you up off the floor.

You sway on your feet as your blood pressure drastically drops from standing too quickly.

Your head feels light.

Your body feels light.

Surprisingly too, even the large heavy metal bat now feels light in your injured palm.

“Fucking finally, Y/N!”

Dean yelled as he saw you on your feet.

“It’s not like I’m trying to fight off a killer here or anything dumb bitch.”

Dumb bitch?

Oh yeah, he means you.

God, Dean was fucking annoying you just wished he would shut up sometimes.

You couldn’t even think straight.

What were you doing again?

Right, the bat. He told you to bring it to him.

You wanted to sit down again. You were so tired.

You couldn't rest though as Dean’s voice was ringing in your ears.

You just wanted him to shut up more than anything so you willed yourself forward.

“Give Dean the bat, Give Dean the bat.”

You lowly repeated in a mantra like state.

Your vision was spotted with black dots swirling like the pain in your head.

GiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebat

You gripped the handle in both hands.

You were going to give Dean the bat.

“Y/N! Goddamn bitch move your lazy fuckin–”

C-R-A-C-K!

The slick sound ricochets throughout the entryway and reverberates in your ears.

C-R-A-C-K!

You feel warm droplets of moisture spray on you.

C-R-A-C-K!

The bat and Dean’s motionless body both simultaneously hit the floor with a thud.

You closed your eyes.

You felt… relief?

Like you could breathe again as the hazy veil that had shrouded your thoughts lifted and the throbbing in your head slowly receded.

You weren’t sure how to describe what you were feeling but it was some mix between euphoria, exhilaration and… freedom?

Well, you were finally free of Dean for good now.

You couldn’t help but be amused by that thought as you wiggle your toes in the warm red liquid that pooled around them.

A child-like giggle resounds from you.

Was this post nut kill clarity?

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror you noticed blood and chunks of brain matter strewn all over Choso’s jacket.

You wouldn’t be able to go without washing it now.

You frowned at the thought of his scent being washed away as well as you unzipped it, checking to see if the stains seeped through the lining too.

You had made such a mess.

Quick movements out of the corner of your eyes reminded you of the fact you were not alone.

The actual Ghostface killer stood mere feet away from you, his intentions clear as he visibly heaved and extended his knife out to the side approaching you.

You sighed exhausted.

“I’m not going to be able to blame this one on you, am I?”

Ghostface shook his head, confirming what you already knew.

☠

Choso felt his own adrenaline reach a frenzied peak.

He approached you with the animalistic stature of a predator who was sizing up another.

You were a killer now, no longer simply his prey.

Proving as much as eyes showed no remorse for the life you had taken.

Yet given what he had walked in on just minutes ago and how distraught you were leaving the party, there was nothing for to mourn anyway.

The only emotion shown was concern for the on coming threat of him as you backed up to keep from his advances.

Heh, that could just as easily be him right now bleeding out on the floor.

He mused as he side stepped Dean’s body to stalk closer towards you.

Choso smirked, he was only disappointed he wasn’t the one to kill him.

Although he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked creating your own work of art.

A bit abstract and not as precise as his own methods.

Nevertheless, Choso continues to be amazed by how his cute and clumsy little undergrad just showed him a darkness he had only previously recognized in himself.

Choso watches you back away until your ankles hit the bottom of the staircase.

Your feet and hands were slick with blood and you couldn’t find your footing on the steps nor support yourself on the railing so you were forced to scooch up the stairs.

Yet given your injury even that proved difficult for you.

What would he do with you now?

“W-We’re even right? You saved me, I saved you.”

You tried to bargain as you saw him crawl up the staircase after you.

Ghostface cocked his head to the side considering your words as he reached you and stopped your escape with a strong gloved hand digging into the flesh of your hip.

Ghostface suspended himself over you covering your frame entirely and his metallic blade glared in the light as if it would pierce into you at the slightest whim.

Were you going to die like this?

Despite the danger you couldn’t help but be a bit turned on.

Especially as Ghostface’s touch reminded you so much of–

“Did you get off on killing your boyfriend, Y/N?”

Ghosface taunted, speaking for the first time.

“...or were you already this fucking wet from fantasizing about someone else, hm?”

Your eyes widened.

Your mind raced too fast to reach a succinct conclusion. But you were disappointed to hear a voice box distortion instead of the actual person's voice beneath the mask.

Your flurry of jumbled thoughts are paused when you feel the cool caresses of the flat metal side of his blade drag across the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your chest heaved slowly with steady intensity as your breath shuddered.

“Are you turned on now Y/N?”

You look away from Ghostface as he taunts as you. You feel more self-conscious considering who you think is under the mask.

Just how fucked up was it you were turned on from murdering your boyfriend in cold blood to save a serial killer who might have been the guy you had just been masturbating to who was also the serial killer Ghostface and very likely about to kill you now?

Very.

Very fucked up was the answer.

You would have been ashamed if you could bring yourself to care.

Choso’s jerks your face back to him as the hand with the blade parts your legs.

The lust in your eyes and your drenched cunt were all the answers he needed.

“AHH!”

You cry out as you feel the smooth metal come down to slap your clothed cunt hard, sliding over your pussy lips.

You fight the urge to close your legs. You can’t or the sharpened edges of the knife would stab into your thighs.

You bite your bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

This does not go unnoticed by Choso as he brings his gloved hand to your lips to soothe the bite.

His soft leather covered thumb hooks to guide your jaw open, exploring your mouth as you openly moan.

“Tsk, Tsk, we can't have you breaking skin and wasting more of that pretty blood that belongs to me.”

You shiver at his words dripping in possessiveness and your mouth encloses around his thumb, sucking as your tongue still squirms under its pressure.

A strained hiss comes from Choso and his eyes roam down to admire the slime trail of sticky fluid your clothed cunt dripped his blade.

Before Choso can get a peak at your pussy your hands fly down to cover yourself.

Amused, Choso gently removes his hand from your mouth to palm your inner thigh as his thumb slick from your spit rubs circles into your flesh.

His coaxing has you spreading your legs wider as he brushes up against the hands covering your cunt.

“Show me Y/N.”

He breathed out.

You pouted and shook your head.

“Is my little slut a liar then? I recall you telling me you didn’t mind if I saw your panties.”

Your suspicions confirmed you gasped in realization but Choso could no longer control himself as his hunting knife returned to your body to trail up your stomach this time the pointy edge hovering over your soft skin.

Your stomach sucks in to create distance between the blade and your skin causing your chest to push up through your arms but it's exactly what Choso had wanted.

Whoosh

With a swift slash through the air his blade slices your bra in two and its straps fall back down your shoulders laying bare your breast and hardened nipples to the cool air.

Exposed, your hands instinctively move from you core to cover your tits.

You see Choso pull back from you to sit up fully.

No longer touching you as he opted to imprint into his memory the imagery of your wet puffed pussy glistening through the soaked and now nearly transparent thong which clung to your lower lips like second skin.

He shifted his mask as the voice box moved from over this mouth.

“Y/N” he sighed.

Hearing his actual voice had you whining with need again.

Choso couldn’t keep his hands off you for long as he grasped hold of your thong and slipped his fingers between the fabric covering your cunt.

Choso rubbed the sticky moisture on the thin fabric between his thumb and forefingers while his knuckles bullied into your clit, causing your toes to curl.

“Mmm C-Choso.”

Your hands went from simply covering your tits to messaging them, pulling on your nipples, as you couldn’t hold back the sounds from the pleasure you felt from him touching you.

Shit. He wanted to ruin you.

Choso’s knife returns to your throat applying soft pressure dangerously close to breaking skin.

“So tell me what you want then, Y/N?”

Choso knew you wanted him but he wanted you to say it.

He needed you to admit it to him outright before he could really believe it.

His knuckles had stopped teasing your clit and your body trembled as you bucked your hips into his hand and pouted.

“I want you to hurry up and decide if you’re going to fuck me or kill me before my sorority sisters get back Choso!”

Choso smirked under the mask.

Becoming a killer turned you into a bit of a brat.

But he knew how to handle you.

Heh, fair enough.

Driving the knife into the staircase behind your head he pulls you up, swapping positions and seating you on his thigh.

He pulls his soiled track jacket off of you and you shiver as the cold air hits your back.

“Mm, Fuck me Choso”

You sighed longingly, arms encircling his neck.

“Mm, Should I though?”

Choso questions out loud as you melt deeper into him from his hands roaming your body.

One settles on your hip under the band of your thong and the other peels you back by your hair so Choso can see your eyes blown out fully with lust.

“Or should I make you wait like I’ve been waiting ever since you first stumbled into class in that slutty green skirt?”

You cried out and our tongue lolled out of your mouth when he yanked your panties roughly by the front, pulling the material between your pussy lips.

Your clit was cradled in the steamy fabric and you clutched the front of his robes for stability as your eyes rolled back.

“Do you know how much you made me suffer thinking about that pretty pussy of yours? How many times I fisted my cock? How much blood I spilled to forget the way you looked in those slutty outfits?”

Choso's own desire was apparent in his raspy voice.

You shake your head and tears spill as he pulls the fabric tighter over your clit.

“I-I w-wanted you too,” you sniffled out.

“Then prove it,” Choso breathed out huskily.

“I want that needy cunt of yours to beg me by fucking herself real nice on my thigh like she did on your mattress earlier.”

You could have combusted as he all but admitted he had in fact been watching you from your closet, still you couldn’t help but obey his orders.

The frantic way your heart pounded in your chest couldn’t trump the unbearable arousal between your legs.

You braced yourself on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips down on him.

“That’s it baby.”

Choso encouraged you as you heard a loud rip and realized he had cut away your thong when you felt him snatch the material right off of you.

Your plump pussy lips parted when pressed onto his thigh and you felt the rough material of his heavy robes directly chafing against your clit.

Surrendering to pleasure you circled your hips to grind down on him as Choso started bouncing you on his leg.

The impact of your weight forcing your clit down while his thigh pushed up into you shaking.

“S-shiiiit D-daddy!”

You cried out arching back.

Choso could have busted in his pants completely untouched when he heard you call him daddy.

You didn’t know how much you had him wrapped around your perfectly manicured fingers.

He would kill every single one of those bastard frat fucks on campus on a whim if you asked him to.

He would do anything for you.

Choso's muscular thigh flexing underneath your cunt felt amazing but your hole was screaming to be filled as it gaped around the phantom thought of his cock penetrating you.

“N-Need more. S’not enough Daddy”

You beg, whining into the mouth opening of his mask.

Your breath enters through the material as your hot tongue presses against the cloth barrier hungrily.

His own tongue responds in kind, entangling with yours through his mask and you moan deeper into the opening.

You feel so good yet are still frustrated that you alone are naked while you couldn’t even see a sliver of skin from him still in his full Ghostface attire.

You move to lift up his mask when he stops you, breaking the makeshift kiss.

“Now, now Y/N.”

Choso playfully chides.

“Can you think of nothing but my dick? You’ve forgotten so quickly this is still a crime scene?”

You panted as you looked over your shoulder and spot the gruesome remains of Dean’s lifeless body and half bashed in face. Blood stained the foyer rug and pieces of tissue splattered on curtains, walls and even the fake plants.

Right.

You still had no idea what you were going to do about that situation but Dean was already dead. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Honestly you felt as if you might die as well if you couldn’t get Choso’s dick inside of you soon.

Your hips never stopped grinding down on his thigh as you returned your attention to him.

You knew if Choso couldn’t even kiss you, he couldn’t fuck you either as those same rules applied to both potential sources of DNA.

“S’fine.”

You pout.

“I-I had your jacket, y-your DNA could c-come from that.”

Your injured hand came to cup the slide of his masked face and your other rubbed the outline of cock over his jeans, feeling the precum soil through them despite the thickness of the fabric.

Blood from your hand smeared onto the pristine white Ghostface mask as you pulled your foreheads to touch.

“I’ll admit Dean was right, w-we w-were sleeping together...”

Choso chuckled.

“...and then get me expelled for sleeping with a student on top of a motive to connect me to your victim?”

He gave your ass harsh smack.

Your cheeks clenched and your panting grew more ragged as you chased your high against him.

“Y/N you gotta think with that sexy little head of yours not that needy little cunt if you really want me to fuck you. I know you’re smart. This should be easy for you.”

You groaned.

Thinking was virtually impossible right now.

You wanted to give up and resort to begging again but Choso calling you smart (something your recently deceased ex never did) and now rubbing your thighs encouragingly, had made you so happy you wanted to make him more proud of you.

You reluctantly stopped your hips, ignoring the fiery ache shooting through in your cunt but you wanted to cum from his cock not his thigh.

You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

Focus Y/N, you willed yourself.

Focusing became harder to do though when Choso became impatient and had nuzzled his masked face into your chest.

His mouth latched to your nipple through the black cloth, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth against your bud causing it to swell.

“Oh!” you smiled sweetly down at him and his abs tightened as he held you closer to him.

“We get rid of the body! Clean up and make sure there's no crime scene to be found!”

“That’s correct,” Choso praised you as if you answered a question in class correctly.

“Now, most importantly, how exactly will we get rid of the body, Y/N?”

“We…w-we..”

Your fingertips grazed your lips and you bit a nail as you pensively considered your options.

You looked like you were thinking so hard on this.

So fucking cute.

“Come on baby, tell me.”

Choso was the one begging you now while he lifted your hips just enough to pull up his robes and position you to straddle his dick straining against his jeans.

You were so close to the answer. He knew it would come to you and he wanted to be inside of you as soon as you got it.

You clasped your hands together and gave him one of your pageant winning smiles he grew to love.

“We make a kill room!”

“Smart girl” Choso said as he lifted his mask and his lips came crashing down on yours.

☠

“Shit-Shit-Shit!”

You cried as you lower yourself onto Choso’s cock.

You had begged and pleaded him for this but Choso was so much bigger and longer than you expected.

You never had a problem taking dick before but not only was Choso huge he had 3 rows of frenum ladder ball piercings on his long veiny cock that dragged against your gspot when you tried to force him inside you.

You still had about an inch to go and his fat cockhead was already pressing against your cervix.

“Fuck baby, you really been keeping all this good pussy from me?”

Choso spread your cheeks to assist you down on his enlarged length but your walls vice gripped his cock preventing him from guiding you down further.

Choso grunted, he was going to too cum fast if you didn’t ease up.

Pulling you back, he captured your lips again devouring them as he violently pushed his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, dominating you completely.

A tremor shot through your cunt as your hips jerked and your legs quivered.

“My slutty girl is so sensitive she came from just kissing?”

Choso teased knowingly pulling back to allow you air and lapping at the drool from the corners of your mouth.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

Without the hindrance of a mask Choso’s kisses felt like he was eating you alive and set your body ablaze.

Your orgasm came with enough intensity to loosen your walls allowing you to finally sink down to the base. However your legs are still vibrating and unable to support you riding him.

You fall forward into the crook of his neck.

“C-can’t D-daddy” you babbled into his neck drooling.

Choso wanted to tease you more. He wanted to goad and praise you enough so you would ride him in earnest until your pretty face sobbed for him to fuck you but time was of the essence now.

You both probably had a good hour and a half left before the cops broke up the party and members of your sorority started heading back.

He needed to finish you quickly and he silently promised to take his time with you later.

Rising up, Choso positioned his arms under your thighs to keep you seated on his cock as he walked up the few steps to reach the landing in the middle of the staircase.

Placing your back carefully against the wall he glides his hands over your sweat and blood laden skin to lift your legs onto his shoulders. His grip settles onto the fat of your ass and he marvels at how his fingers sink into them.

Choso allows you time to get adjusted to the new position as he now held you in a standing mating press.

“Ready?”

You nod and Choso takes that as his greenlight to rigorously fuck you into the wall with such vigor you felt it quaking behind you.

There was no possible way you could have ever been ready for that though and your hands dive into his hair tugging at the roots under his man buns as if you intended to scalp him.

Your reactions fuel his cruel thrusts as Choso greedily drinks your guttural screams into his mouth.

They sound more heavenly than any he had heard before even from his own victims.

Slamming you down on his cock, Choso manhandled you like you weighed nothing to him.

His piercings and engorged veins continue to scrape the walls of your core with every stroke as you gush around him soaking his robes.

Choso wanted more of you.

He didn’t think he would ever get enough.

You felt so fucking good he could fuck you like this for hours and he cursed the dwindling time he had before he needed to remove himself from the warm comfort of your mushy cunt.

The hallway echoed with sounds of his hips sadistically ramming your body further into the wall as well as the sloshy vulgar noises his cock tore from your tight creamy cunt.

“S-so c-lose Cho–”

Were the only words you could croak out as your cries become lodged in your throat.

The pleasure you received being folded between Choso and the wall had you salivating like crazy. Drool was pooling in your mouth faster than it could dribble out down the sides.

You locked eyes with him.

The wild glint in them was so primordially feral you can’t believe you ever mistook the restraint he tried to maintain around you for shyness.

Frankly, there was nothing timid about him.

The cold confidence of a true killer radiated off of him and into your core as each of his thrusts felt like they were stabbing into your womb.

Your whines turned into horse croaks as you desperately gasped for air.

Like a killer he showed you no mercy as his long cock shifted your guts up and into your lungs.

Choso was quite literally murdering your cunt.

“Yeah Y/N? Is my girl gonna cum all pretty like on this dick?”

Too cockdrunk to reply, your pussy readily spoke up for you as your walls clenched and spasmed. White stars flood your vision as your body vibrates against him as you cum hard, gurgling his name.

Choso’s hips stuttered and his moans increased as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own.

He knew better than to cum inside you, he wasn’t wearing a condom and didn’t even know if you were on birth control.

But your cunt was like a drug to him so Choso resigned himself to cleaning you up after as he gave one last thrust, injecting you with his hot seed that scorched your insides and sent you spasming all over again.

It took a few minutes for Choso to catch his breath but he gently released your legs down to touch the floor as he pulled out of you.

You groaned immediately at the loss after being so full as you still tried to regain your own steady breaths.

Not missing a beat, Choso moved with reverence as if he was worshiping your form from the kisses he peppered down your chest and belly.

“Eyes on me, baby,”

Choso ordered, glancing up at you.

You nodded your breath hitching once he reached below your belly button and he threw one of your legs over his shoulder again.

He shamelessly breathed in the scent of sex wafting off your pussy.

The musky mixture of his cum and your juices combined with sweat and blood entered his nostrils and sent his eyes rolling back into his skull.

You shuddered.

You wanted to feel his mouth on you more than anything but you knew you couldn’t both remain like this in the open hallway for much longer.

Seemingly forgetting all concerns of time, Choso’s thumbs lightly ghost over your battered pussy lips as he slowly peeled back the slippery folds.

His chest swoll with pride seeing how much of his cum you had taken inside of you.

Choso's tongue salaciously darted out to catch the drippings that seeped out of your messy little cunt.

Despite your concerns, you can’t resist bucking up towards his face as he brought your hips off the wall towards him.

“Be patient princess, let me enjoy this.”

Choso open handedly spanks your pussy, landing a direct hit on your clit which has you shaking as your squirt spritz onto his face.

His thick tongue rolls out of his mouth like a man starved licking his lips at the feast before him

“Goddamn, I already love her so much”

He cooed into your cunt while looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Go out with me, yeah Y/N? I’ll treat her right. Just let me have a taste of her everyday.”

You almost came on his face again from the utter display of depravity he was showing you, not missing the fact he was so pussy drunk he was technically asking your cunt to be his girlfriend instead of you.

To be fair you were both way past the point where he needed to ask you out anyway as he was an accomplice to your homicide and soon-to-be cover up.

“Okay Choso, I’ll be your girlfriend,”

You grinned at him.

Choso thanked you by gently placing a kiss on your clit before nose-diving into your folds like a mad man between your legs.

Seeing how sensitive you are it wasn't long before he had you thrashing on his lips from the nasty way he heartily ate your cunt out.

The suckling, bubbling and squeaking sounds of him inhaling your pussy nearly had you at your peak again.

Yet you were snapped out of your pleasure when you heard the grandfather clock in the hall ring signaling it was midnight.

Fuck what if the party got broken up earlier than expected?

“W-we don’t have time for this Choso.” You plead anxiously as you pry his head out of from between your legs.

The sounds of the clock chiming and the sight of Dean’s body still laying in the entryway made you more nervous with every passing minute it remained there.

His eyes narrowed dangerously on you as he nuzzled his nose back into your cunt hooking it under your clitoral hood.

“Oh? My sweet girl gets one kill and thinks she knows better than me what we have time for?”

His expression dares you to pull him away again as he drags the flat of his tongue lazily over your clit.

“Please Choso…”

Choso relents as he feels you tense up more, he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself unless you were.

“You trust me right Y/N?”

“Yes”

You breathe out as his fingers play with your puffed pussy lips.

“Do you have the key to the basement?”

You nod.

“And you know exactly where the supply closet is, baby?”

You nod again.

“Perfect. This won't take long at all then.”

Choso assures you as his confident words calm your worries.

“So now just relax princess and let me take care of you. This isn’t my first clean up job babe…”

You weren’t sure if Choso was talking about your cunt or the dead body, but you didn’t doubt he was experienced in both.

“Give me 15 minutes to see how many times I can make you squirt on my tongue. Then we can finally make that dexter kill room you like so much, yeah?”

You nodded once more and Choso wasted no time drowning his face back into your cunt.

You sighed contently.

He was already the best boyfriend you ever had.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: How was that? Did I do our emo kang justice? Lmk! (y'all better lmk cause y'all busted my balls for days over this lmfaoooo)

Also ding dong Dean is DEAD thank fuck. Whew I made that man as horrible as possible so you could kill him. Tbh, I would kill a nigga just for pouring Milwakees in my hair alone, that shit smells and tastes like cat piss lol.

Also here if y'all wanna see a cute lil pixivi I made of me bimbo!reader x Ghostface!Choso.

You know the original idea for this was actually based on a fic I was writing where Choso, Yuji and Sukuna (all brothers) all transfer to your university and bimbo!reader (no bf this time) clearly likes Choso but his oblivious emo ass has no idea and keeps being a dick to you cause he thinks you are just making fun of him. LOL! I may in the future still end up writing a version for that since this ended up going in a completely different direction with Ghostface thrown into the mix.

Y'all this fic was way too fuckin long. I know theres likely errors/redundancies still so I will comb through it later and I may edit/reword somethings too but general content will stay the same. Tbh, what took so long is the last scene cause I decided I cannot write a smut fic with Choso where that man isn't acting completely deranged and unhinged over the taste of pussy. He's munch, he can't help it.

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to be your personal munch, but likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

Next up on Kizzatober, Werewolf!Toji from Thrilling Ghouls! (PWP)

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