#a mediocre one: same guy but soft

[daisyachain]

I’ve got strong feelings on HFs. You’ve got to translate the general silhouette/characteristics but it’s got to be natural. I don’t like the stupid hats. It’s an exercise in creativity to have that effect with clothes a person might actually potentially wear

[suguann]

✎. he tells you they’re the problem and leaves it at that before sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, but he's also kinda sweet?? [18+ only]

You like your new roommate.

Simon’s surprisingly better to have around than the last person who lived with you—a girl you knew from college who had an affinity for stealing your clothes and conveniently never had money for rent. He’s the type to make you soup when you’re sick, acknowledge you if you’re in the same room, water your flowers while he rolls his cigarettes on the fire escape, and carry your groceries up the four flights of stairs to your floor. 

He’s attractive, too, in the not-so-conventional sense, but in a disarming way, all small smiles and knowing looks and soft hair you know he doesn’t put much effort into—that sometimes curls around his ears when he lets it get too long—yet it still manages to look better than yours on the best days. 

He never tells you what he does for work, and you’re too polite to ask. But you have a feeling he makes enough to afford a place on the less crime-infested side of town—somewhere nicer than your cramped apartment with its outdated appliances, leaky faucets, and the bright neon sign atop the building across the street that shines through your windows all times of the day—but he says he’s not ready to live alone.

Something tells you there’s more to it than him being a lonely bachelor, but again, you don’t pry.

“Does this place have wi-fi?” is all he’d said the first time you meet, in a voice so smooth and only slightly broken up by his accent, clad in a shirt that looked two sizes too small around his arms and clutching a duffle bag in one big hand. 

Your brain was this shaken-up box of words and syllables that when you answered him, it came out in a nervous stutter. “Y-yeah, I’ll, er…I’ll give it to you—the password, I mean—once you've moved in. If that’s okay.”

He’d dropped his duffle bag in front of the room that would be his. “Consider me moved in.”

The smile he gave you, crinkling eyes and chuckling lightly, only made the stutter worse. 

You let his charm roll off you; you always figured it came naturally to him, a characteristic that comes with being attractive and good.

A handful of months later—of finding a routine around each other and lazy smiles in the morning—something changes the night you go out with a guy Mary from work eagerly sets you up with. 

His name’s Robb, he’s a doctor, and you both love cats; he has a house in Spain. Did I mention he's my cousin?

(A dull no way concealed behind your teeth.

If you hadn’t said yes, you feared your entire lunch break would consist of her waxing poetic over a man you're unsure about meeting.)

For a flicker of a moment, there’s an unreadable expression on Simon’s face as he watches you touch up your makeup in the hallway mirror and slip your hand into the crook of your date’s elbow at the door. There’s a slight glint of something uncharacteristically cold behind the mask of indifference before a small smile replaces it.

“Have a nice night,” you throw over your shoulder, except you don’t notice that he never says it back.

You mope around the apartment when Robb—who surprisingly exceeded your expectations of mediocre dates, not that you ever plan on admitting that to Mary—doesn’t reach out to you for three days. Then a week. You’re at that age to understand when people get busy, and a nice night doesn’t always mean it’s mutually reciprocated. But you liked him, and it felt promising after he’d kissed you goodnight against your front door. 

It had to have been the kiss that turned him off. Maybe he realized it was too much too soon.

When Simon finds you curled up in a ball under your comforter, one thumb gently wiping away your tears, he doesn’t even bring up your date. Instead, he orders your favorite take-out and puts on a sitcom you’d mentioned to him once—somewhat surprised that he remembers—the dreamy doctor who’d ghosted you blissfully forgotten with greasy food and a warm, comforting chest to rest your head on.

Simon’s there again—sweets in hand and a soft voice to soothe you—when another date (Rin from finance on your floor) a month later is a no-show, and a few weeks after that when Rin tells you without context that he can’t see you anymore. 

The third time of let downs feels worse. It’s worse because maybe there’s something wrong with you, and when you ask Simon, he’s too nice to rub salt in your wounds. He tells you they’re the problem and leaves it at that before sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

You've been Simon's roommate for a year, and he doesn't take it well when you tell him you're looking for a new place.

It’s after he comes home from a three-month work trip. The shadow that crosses over his face should’ve been your first hint that something is wrong.

Had you noticed the signs sooner, you wonder if you’d be less like prey caught by the softness of your underbelly, kept in place by the scruff, and sharp teeth at your neck.

"Beg me. Beg me not to cum in you."

"S-Simon," you whimper wetly, "don't cum in—ah—me."

His fingers hold your chin with an unyielding grip, ensuring your gaze doesn’t stray from his in the cracked mirror. You’re embarrassed by what you see, how spread open you are to his dark, inkwell eyes hungrily watching as you twitch when his other hand slides between your thighs.

"Don’t stop begging, love,” he growls, squeezing you tighter, “or I might forget."

There’s that dark look again, the one that sends a shivery feeling up your spine, possessive almost with how he traces every inch of you as if burning the image of you into his memory, the softness washed away by something more sinister. 

A little voice in the back of your head tells you to flee, but another knows he'd find joy in catching you. 

No one would ever think your sweet, attractive roommate would be the same man staring at you now—everything you thought you knew about him stripped away to reveal a new canvas, bare for splashes of paint to fill in the cracks—teeth marks imprinted along the curve of your jaw, on the inside of your thighs.

He hides it well. His humble personality doing the trick of being the impenetrable mask for what he’s concealing underneath: a raw obsession, an addict finally getting his hands on his favorite drug, someone who can’t recognize defeat and knows how to take.

“What do they have that I don’t? Hm? Must be a desperate little thing. My pretty slut,” Simon’s voice rumbles low against your ear, shy of unhinged. “They won’t treat you as good as I do. Don’t I treat you good?”

You whimper when his grip grows tighter, but he doesn’t seem to notice—like he’s not fully here with you. No trace of the soft, gentle man who keeps the freezer full of your favorite ice cream, who runs to the store when you run out of tampons and comes back with chocolate and a new pair of fuzzy socks. A few words have turned him into someone you don’t know. Perhaps you never did.

“Answer me.”

An indiscernible  squeak is the only sound you make. 

He chuckles darkly, his head dipping down to rest his lips against the fluttering pulse in your neck, a finger slipping through the alarming amount of wetness between your thighs where his cock rends you down the middle, and begins rubbing firm, tight circles over your clit, pulling a moan from your throat. 

“It’s okay, love,” he mumbles, words barely audible above your heartbeat swimming in your ears. “I’ll be everything for you. Everything you need. I’ll show you why I’m better.”

[dollishmehrayan]

# “I’M GONNA MARRY HER ANYWAY” ── .✦ ( how batboys marry you and propose to you )

a/n: this is a request by anon (here) but literally this is making me feel like ultra single on a spectrum, anyways I love these type of requests because I like some simple stuff like this ya know? Tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Proposal: The stars are twinkling above as Dick stands beside you on a rooftop he transformed into a wonderland of fairy lights and soft music. “You’ve given me so many reasons to smile, and now I want to give you one more,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion as he gets down on one knee. His eyes are so full of love you feel like you could drown in them. When you say yes, he lifts you into his arms and spins you around, whispering, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you.” (He’s such a mediocre man proposing 😭🌚 h/j)

The Ceremony: Dick watches you walk down the aisle, completely captivated, like he’s seeing the sun rise for the first time. His vows are filled with tender promises: “From the moment I met you, my heart knew it had found its home. You are my partner, my best friend, and the love of my life. I promise to stand by your side, to laugh with you, to cry with you, and to love you endlessly.” By the time he finishes, his voice cracks, and tears stream down his face. (You swear he cried like 6x times that day.)

Married Life: Every day with Dick is a celebration of love. He leaves you little notes that say, “You’re my greatest adventure” and brings you flowers just because. He holds your face in his hands like you’re the most precious thing in the world, telling you, “I fall more in love with you every single day.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

The Proposal: Jason plans something quiet, but the depth of his love shines through. Sitting on the couch together after dinner, he pulls out a small velvet box and says, “I’m not great at speeches, and I’ve never been the guy who gets things right the first time. But I know I got this right. You’re my home, my peace, and my everything. Marry me?” His voice is soft, almost vulnerable, and when he sees your tears, he gently wipes them away and says, “I’d spend my whole life making you happy.”

The Ceremony: Jason’s vows are raw and honest: “I’ve lived a life that didn’t always make sense, but you—you’re my clarity. You make me want to be better, to deserve the love you so freely give me. I promise to protect your heart, to cherish you every day, and to never stop fighting for us.” His hand shakes as he slides the ring onto your finger, but the love in his eyes steadies him.

Married Life: Jason doesn’t just love you—he adores you. He’ll randomly pull you into his lap just to hold you, resting his forehead against yours as he whispers, “You have no idea how lucky I feel to have you.” On lazy mornings, he cooks breakfast for you, insisting, “You’re too good for me, but I’m keeping you anyway.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The Proposal: Tim’s proposal is a masterpiece of thoughtfulness. He plans an entire day filled with your favorite things—a visit to your favorite bookstore, dinner at the place you’ve been wanting to try, and finally, a quiet moment in a park under the stars. “I’ve spent so much of my life searching,” he says, taking your hands in his. “But with you, I’ve found everything I’ll ever need. Will you marry me?” His hands are shaking, but his voice is steady, full of hope and love.

The Ceremony: Tim looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. His vows are deeply personal: “You are my greatest discovery, the love I didn’t know I was looking for. I promise to love you with the same care and dedication I’ve put into everything I’ve ever valued—because nothing will ever mean as much to me as you do.” He kisses your hand after slipping the ring on, his eyes misty with tears.

Married Life: Tim’s love is gentle but constant. He checks in on you throughout the day with texts like, “How’s my favorite person?” and stays up late just to watch movies with you. On nights when he’s overwhelmed, he pulls you close and whispers, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The Proposal: Bruce’s proposal is understated but breathtaking. In a quiet corner of Wayne Manor, with a fire crackling in the background, he kneels before you. “ I’m not exactly good with words but…..I’ve faced many things in my life, but nothing has been as terrifying—or as wonderful—as loving you. You’ve changed me in ways I didn’t know were possible. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” His voice is steady, but his eyes are full of emotion. (He kinda proposes the same he did with Andrea Beaumont poor guy gets a bit of flashbacks 😭😭)

The Ceremony: Bruce’s vows are simple but deeply moving: “In my darkest moments, you were my light. In my loneliest nights, you were my solace. I vow to be your partner, your protector, and your greatest love for as long as I live.” His hands linger on yours during the ring exchange, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

Married Life: Bruce loves quietly but fiercely. He kisses your forehead every morning and holds your hand under the table during dinners. On difficult days, he pulls you into his arms and whispers, “You’re my everything. I couldn’t do this without you.”

[rbfclassy]

MY PRETTY (EX) WIFE! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...your ex husband gojo gets word of your date with some other guy and goes out of his way to pay you a visit while you’re getting ready

INFO...ex husband!gojo x fem!reader, you and gojo have a kid, possessiveness, jealously, groping, grinding, pet names (pretty wife, baby), fucking you from behind over the sink, hair pulling, love-bomb, talks of giving you another kid, breeding, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Your ex husband Gojo is an absolute menace when it comes to your dating life. Somehow he ends figuring out that you’re talking to/seeing some guy. How’d he find out? Probably paid suguru to spy on you to be honest. But besides all that, he will go out of his way to ruin your dating life and it absolutely pisses you off. He’d show up to your house thirty minutes before your date, using the spare key that he still (somehow) had to make his way in. No surprise that you were absolutely startled to see him appear in the mirror behind you as you were applying your mascara. His eyes scan over you, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, you’re all dolled up over some mediocre man that could never be him. Your nails and toes are painted the same color, your hair is freshly done, and the dress you were wearing was one of Gojo’s favorites.

“What are you doing here?” You huff, closing your mascara and placing it back in your bag.

“Came to visit, had some free time.” He leaned against the door frame.

“Free time?” You turn towards him. “You were supposed to watch our daughter, Gojo.” You turn back around, searching in your bag for your lip liner.

“Don’t worry! She’s with aunt Shoko.” He smiles. “Plus, I heard you had a little date tonight. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

You exhale in annoyance, knowing that you’ll never be able to live a peaceful life if your one and only ex husband is breathing down your neck and figuring out everything about you, watching your every move. “Yeah, so? Aren’t I allowed to have a little free time of my own?”

“Of course you are, sweetheart. As the mother of my kid, you’re allowed whatever you want. Don’t worry too much, I have a date of my own, so I won’t be in your hair too much longer.” He was lying straight through his teeth, watching your face in the mirror intently to see if he could catch a glimpse of any jealousy.

“Congrats,” you simply responded, grabbing your lipstick.

“I will say though, you look absolutely beautiful in that dress.” Gojo walked up behind you, examining the curve of your back as you leaned over the counter. “It’s my favorite.” His large palm ran up the curve, slowly, before gliding back down to the roundness of your ass.

“Gojo.” You pull his hand away, shaking your head with the roll of your eyes. “You’re not ruining this for me.” The tone of your voice came off as a warning. Yet, Gojo continued to run his hands all over your body, holding onto your waist as he pressed himself against you.

“Afraid that you’re gonna give in? There’s no shame in fucking your ex husband,” he whispered, rubbing his bulge against your ass. He pulled you back against him, a small groan leaving his lips.

You threw your lipstick back in your bag, eyes shutting as you tried to resist the temptation that was Gojo. It was so, so hard. The expensive cologne he wore filled your lungs, his sultry voice in your ear, the softness of his hands as they held onto you. Goddamnit, why does he always make you feel like this? You swore up and down that you wouldn’t fall for his tricks again and here you are, rubbing your ass on him. You look back over your shoulder, taking in his broad shoulders and tall build, the black compression shirt he was wearing defined his muscles so well. His hair so effortlessly falling along the sides of his face. What were you doing? What were you thinking? “Be quick.”

“Atta girl, that’s all you had to say.” Within seconds, he’s bunching your dress up around your hips, pulling your panties down as they fall around your ankles. Your heart skips a beat when you feel his bulbous tip tease your entrance, running it up and down your slit. You grip onto the bathroom counter as you feel him push inside of you, the stretch so deliciously intoxicating, your jaw slack. “Fuck, baby, you’re still so tight,” he lets out a mix between a groan and chuckle, hand coming down to grip onto your hips as he thrusts into you.

His thrusts are deep and fast, a sign that he’s been waiting to be inside of you, waiting to fuck you since the last time. He presses down on your lower back, pushing you down more as he angles his cock just right so he could hit your sweet spot. “F-fuck!” You gasp. “Yes! Right there!” Gojo knew you like the back of his hand, knew every one of your weaknesses and strengths, and most of all how to please you. After being your husband, it’d be a shame for him not to know how to make his pretty wife cum, right? He knows what makes you purr, he knows how to get your eyes rolling back.

“Shit, this pussy is so wet—fuck!” He grabs your leg, propping it up on the bathroom counter, wanting to be able to reach deeper, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. Gojo watches you through the mirror, taking delight in the expression on your face. Your brows were furrowed in pleasure, eyes glazed over as you tried to hold back your moans, yet you were failing. His cock dragged along your velvety walls, your brain turning into mush as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Satoru!” You moaned, his name rolling off of your tongue so smoothly. His fingertips dug into your skin, gripping tightly as he felt you clench around him, sucking him back in every time he threatened to pull away. It was like your pussy was made for him.

“My pretty fucking wife,” he huskily whispered in your ear as he pressed his chest up against your back. His hand gripped a fistful of your hair, turning your head towards him before placing his lips on yours. He swallowed your moans as your tongues sloppily moved against each other, lips moving in sync with his. He pulled away, staring down at you with such a primal look in his eyes, one that sent shivers through your entire body. You didn’t take your eyes off of him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you basked in the feeling of pleasure. “You’re all mine. Fucking mine. Everything.”

“‘Toru,” you whined, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m close! Mmm, fuck, please don’t stop! Please, please keep fucking me!” You begged. His hips slammed against yours, lewd squelches from your pussy mixed with you and gojos moans was like something out of a porno. Each thrust had your eyes rolling back, the pleasure starting to overwhelm you as another orgasm was forced on the edge. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” You screamed, body shaking against his hold as your orgasm overtook your entire self.

“That’s it, baby, cum for me. Cum around this dick. No one can fuck you like this, no one but me. Pussy was made for me.” His lips were pressed up against your ear, darting his tongue out to lick your skin. He continued his ministrations, movements becoming sloppy as he chased his own orgasm, the sheer feeling of you squeezing around him sent his brain into overdrive. “Look at me.” He gripped your chin. “You love me?” He asked, soaking up the look of your watery eyes. “Gonna have my baby again, huh? Make you a mommy.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he pounds into you.

“Yes, yes, I love you.” You nod, staring up at him with doe eyes, tears pricking the corners. “I love you.” The words are barely above a whisper.

“Fuckkk.” Those three words were all Gojo wanted to hear from you, the sound of your voice brining him closer and closer to his orgasm. “I love you too, baby.” The feverish kiss he lands on your lips sends you into a spiral, his hips moving sporadically, making your legs shake.

“Cum in me, please. I want it.” You’re breathing heavily, the consequences of your words no longer existing to you as you relish in the moment.

“Shiiit!” Gojo thrusts deeply into your once more, holding himself there as thick ropes of his cum coat your walls. “Ohhh, mmmm, fuck me!” He lets out a shaky breath, cum still spurting from the head of his cock. You whimper at the feeling of him filling you up, slowly removing himself from you. He chuckled as he watches his cum ooze out of you, dripping down to your clit before he pushes it back in with his thumb. “Goddamn, baby.” He lands a smack on your ass, squeezing it as he looks at you, hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. His eyes avert to your phone, seeing that it was ringing, a name he’s never heard of displayed on the screen. “Uh oh.” He picks up your phone, seeing all the missed calls from what he assumes is your date. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“What?” You completely blanked out, forgetting about the date you had. “Fuck.” You groan in annoyance, snatching your phone from him. “I forgot. What do I say?” You look towards Gojo for help.

“Who gives a shit. You’re with me now.” He snatches the phone back, placing it on the counter. “Let’s get in the shower, c’mon.” He pecks your lips.

“You’re so annoying,” you playfully replied, rolling your eyes with a scoff.

repost from my old account

[lxvvie]

One Night (I Can't) Stand.

loser!simon x loser!reader

You smelled smoke. Right after the direct sunlight bitch-slapped you awake.

You’d glare if you had the energy, but it was the sun and you were tired. Too tired. Too tired physically, and it wasn’t the type of exhaustion that came from being at work all day with your asshole boss and inept coworkers, oh no, this was… this was that ‘feel good’ tired, the one that came from a lot of—oh!

Oh.

You moved and… you were sore. In all the right places, too. Your body felt heavy and a little like Jello. You took a peek under the covers. Butt ass naked. Ohhh. So you did get some after all. Finally. Look at you, getting dicked down like normal people. After a bar crawl you were practically dragged to under the guise of “team building”. You cackled like some fuckin’ goofball, like you were in on some inside joke only you and the universe knew, and then you felt the bed shift a little next to you, heard a soft exhale, smelled some more smoke, and…

…Wait a minute. Who’d you fuck?

You were almost scared to turn over. The last time something like this happened, you shat where you ate. By proxy. It was one of your co-worker’s friends, some guy named… Jack? Joshua? Whoever the fuck. Anyway, the sex was… mediocre at best, you don’t even remember if you came or not (like who could forget an orgasm?), and afterward, you had to contend with said co-worker’s knowing smile every time you saw her. And then the poor guy asked you out (at her encouragement). Oh, you still cringe at the fallout from that.

Anyway… who’d you fuck again?

You took a deep breath, counted down from five, prepared yourself for the possibility of it being another shit-show, and then—

“The fuck was so funny?” Well, that eliminated… all of your co-workers. Deep voice. Nice, deep voice. Nice, deep, gravelly voice. Big dick energy voice. You think. The stuff fanfiction and bad boy fantasies are made of. Okay, you’ll hold that next cackle in. You turned over to face your bedmate and was immediately greeted to the sight of a pair of big brown eyes staring into your soul. Or, rather, staring through your soul. Same difference. You just know that he’s big. Huge. Physically imposing. Broad-shouldered. Muscular but not, what is it, incredibly defined? You can see the power in his body, and it was something to watch as he rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly. Muscles under tan-lined skin. Angular, long face. A nose that was broken one time too many. Long eyelashes. Furrowed brows. Five o’clock shadow. Resting bitch face. Buzzcut that was growing out. He was cute in a grungy “fuck you and fuck them, too” kind of way. Mismatched features that matched him and made sense.

Shitty tattoos, though. Mm. A travesty.

So now you’re face-to-face with your bedmate who, from the looks of it, had been up longer than you, had also been watching you if his sitting up against the pillow was any indication, and was nursing one of cheapest cigarette brands known to man (shoutout to your chain-smoking HR rep for getting you hip to this information against your will while at job orientation), and… uh…

“…Who the fuck are you?” Smooth. Real smooth, blurting that shit out. Fuck your foot-in-mouth syndrome. It’s done you more harm than good.

Didn’t really faze the guy much, if any, though. He just quirked a brow. Took another hit from his cigarette. Flicked the ashes into the makeshift ashtray of a cracked shot glass. Exhaled and let the smoke settle over you two. Came back to staring into (or is it through?) your soul. Okay… this is awkward. Well, it was until—

“Who the fuck are you?” came the brusque response. You were taken aback. Don’t know why because you didn’t know the guy from a can of paint, but you were, and if he caught the shadow that passed over your face, he didn’t say anything. The high you had earlier from FINALLY getting some dick came crashing down stupendously upon this asshole’s broad shoulders.

You hate your co-workers and boss all over again.

And you hate that HR rep even more.

[fictionismyreality3]

Sharing is Caring (18+)

Kinktober fic #1

Warnings: 🚨SMUT WEEWOO WEEWOO🚨

Notes: I’ve been so tired n busy lately this is all I could whip up, babes 🤷🏻‍♀️, also I would totally let them run a trai-

“C’mon, L.T. Let me ‘ave a turn with ‘er.” Soap pleaded.

The air in the room was thick, hot and heavy with the smell of your dripping pussy and the musk and sweat of the 4 men who were each pounding the brains out of your head.

When Simon had first suggested opening your relationship to other people, you were a little hesitant. Before Simon, most of your sexual experience had been mediocre quickies with guys in college, and you weren’t exactly eager to the idea of dealing with teaching another guy what you liked all over again.

But he had been so reassuring, coaxing you with enticing promises and a night of him making you explode all over his tongue. And that’s how you found yourself stuck between two muscled men, getting your holes stuffed while the others watched.

“That’s it, good girl.” Simon hissed lowly in your ear, his cock barreling into you.

Your mouth hung open, eyes half-lidded and glossy as you gazed back over your shoulder, your eyes catching on the wet, sticky sweetness coating his lower abs. You almost wanted to lick it.

Someone was grabbing your face, pulling your attention back over to the cock in front of you. “Open up, baby. Give me that mouth.” Gaz groaning was all the warning you got before his dick was pushed past your lips, your cheeks hollowing automatically as you gagged around his length.

Soft, squelching sounds were coming from beside you, making you vaguely aware of the more boisterous man Simon introduced you to. Trying to look over, you caught a glimpse of him fucking into his own hand before your head was force back straight.

“Dumb fuckin’ baby, keep your eyes on me.” Heat surged through your belly, Gaz pressing his hips forward as your nose met his pubic bone. “Oh, fuck, pretty g-girl-” Your throat and pussy clenched at the same time, Simon’s hips stuttering slightly, his cock dragging out of you and teasing that delicious spot inside you. One hand was reaching down, rubbing your clit, and you locked eyes with Price.

“Look at you.” He crooned, rubbing his cock on your soft, plush thigh. “Fucking wrecked, aren’t ya?” You nodded, groaning around Gaz’s cock.

The bed creaked under the 5 of you, Soap coming to bully Gaz out of the way, replacing the Brit’s cock with his own. The girth of him was a sudden change from how long Gaz had been, and you choked, eyes tearing up as you hit weakly against his leg.

“Be fuckin’ gentle, Johnny.” Simon snarled possessively.

“Sorry, L.T, she’s so-” His cock hit the back of your throat. “She’s so fucking perfect.”

A large, calloused hand grabbed one of your own, and you mewled as Price wrapped your hand around his thick cock, enjoying the tortured groan he let out. You felt stupid for ever questioning Simon, remembering how tentatively you accepted the idea. But now?

Now, you could get used to this.

(Idk might continue might not, kinda meh)

[albamelody]

I Matched with My old Teacher on Tinder… and Fucked Him

Chapter 1 - Swipe

I was in my favorite place to procrastinate—curled sideways across my unmade bed, laptop abandoned in favor of my phone, thumb lazily flicking through an endless gallery of half‑smiles and would‑be soulmates. My tiny apartment smelled of bergamot tea and the croissants I hadn’t bothered to finish. Tinder had become my bedtime story lately: a soothing, mindless rhythm of nope, nope, maybe, nope.

Then the screen froze on a face I hadn’t seen in eight years, and the breath snagged right out of me.

Mr. Adrian Hayes.

The name still triggered muscle‑memory flutters in my stomach, the way theorems used to whenever he leaned over my desk to correct them. Back then he’d been thirty‑two, brilliant, devastating in a gentle‑professor sort of way—tall and long‑limbed, crisp shirts rolled to the elbow so you could admire his forearms without getting caught by the gossip patrol at the back of the room. Geometry had never been my calling, but I sat in the front row every day senior year, pushing thick‑rimmed glasses up my nose while I fantasized about tracing the veins in his hands.

And now he was on my screen—older, impossibly more handsome, dark‑blond hair threaded with silver at the temples. Same quiet smile that said I already know the answer, but I’d rather help you find it yourself. He wore a faded blue T‑shirt, an artfully chaotic bookcase behind him. A soft halo from a dormer window made his irises glow paler than I remembered, like the inside of a glacier.

Below his photo, a neon‑blue symbol pulsed. Super Like.

For two full seconds, I just stared, heart ramping in my chest. Was this some cosmic glitch? Had the universe pocket‑dialed my teenage crush? I forced myself to breathe, studied the rest of his profile—age forty‑one now, still living in the city, “secondary‑school educator, amateur woodworker, collector of bad puns.” His bio ended with a single line: Here for something real. My lips twisted up. Ever the understated idealist.

I hovered over the red X, because nostalgia had a tricky way of glamorizing things that ought to stay in the past. But the truth was, I’d never fully shaken the memory of him—his patience, his voice, his rare startling laugh. Even after a tangle of mediocre adult relationships, the idea of being admired by him still sent a low hum through my core.

My thumb slid right with a decisive flick.

It’s a match! confetti exploded across the screen. I squeaked—an embarrassing, almost squeal—and clapped a hand over my mouth, as if someone might hear.

A message bubble popped up before I could compose a greeting.

MrHayes: Well, this is the nicest surprise I’ve had all week. Do you remember me, or am I flattering myself?

The laugh that burst out of me felt absurdly giddy. I tucked a stray curl behind my ear and typed back.

Me: Hard to forget the guy who convinced me that proofs could be poetic. Me: Hi, Mr. Hayes.

While I waited, I thought about erasing the formal title—Adrian was in his bio, after all—but my phone buzzed first.

MrHayes: Adrian, please. And the feelings were mutual—you made teaching theorems feel like a flirtation with language.

Heat flooded my cheeks. Mutual? I sat up, spine against the headboard, pulse skipping. Somewhere a tiny voice warned me not to read too much into nostalgic niceties. I ignored it.

Me: So the rumors are true: teachers do have favorite students. Me: I always guessed, but it would’ve been scandalous to ask. Adrian: We’ll keep it our secret then. How have the last years treated you?

I told him in quick brushstrokes—graphic design degree, freelance gigs, an apartment barely large enough for my shoes, a mild addiction to cold brew. He volleyed back with stories of teaching stints in Ireland and Croatia, a younger brother’s wedding, the decision to return home because “the city feels different when you’re old enough to choose it.” His phrasing made my chest tighten.

The chat flowed so easily it was dangerous—memes about hexagons (“Bestagons are the true friendsagons,” he quipped), recollections of high‑school pranks, the time I’d insisted the golden ratio must secretly run the universe and he’d given me extra credit for “philosophical creativity.” Every so often his words slipped into a register that vibrated just below polite.

Adrian: I always admired how fearless you were presenting your project—face flushed, eyes bright, determined to prove symmetry was sexy. Me: Confession: my face was bright because my teacher looked good enough to make Euclid blush.

There, the line crossed. No polite misinterpretation left. A tremor shot through me as his typing dots appeared… then vanished. They returned, vanished again. My nerves sang. Finally:

Adrian: You just made me wish we weren’t limited to text.

A beat later:

Adrian: Coffee tomorrow? Or tonight, if your schedule’s flexible…

I laughed out loud at the screen, unbelieving. Coffee at 9 p.m. was ridiculous and impulsive. Which, apparently, was exactly my mood.

Me: Tonight. There’s a place I know that makes dangerous affogatos. Twenty minutes? Adrian: I’ll be there in fifteen. I was always an eager student.

____________________________________

To be continued...

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[sugar-petals]

every time i see him pop up on my dash i’m impressed by how taemin (who else) has debuted and effortlessly resonated in several generations of his genre and remains so bewitchingly relevant. yes i know manwhoring and the dark side of catholicism plus dissecting masculinity/femininty will never go out of fashion and he dances more compellingly than 99% of his peers and his looks never seem to change ever and he works his butt off but you know what i mean: 

an inexplicable longevity. without scandal, lack of sympathy from fans, missing the mark, error, mediocrity. all while provoking thought. taemin’s ultraglittering, seductive musical staying power slash a remarkably consistent message — how on earth does he vary his aesthetic but always manages to express HIS idea?— and drive to do what he does are mysteriously singular. and it’s not just his jesus-honoring buttshaking alright. to use the first gen benchmark, without slighting either of these artists: he is the legacy and work of BOA and Rain in one. seamless even after his difficult enlistment, taemin always keeps going and going and innovating and serving looks and performing and enchanting. 

i don’t mean that in a way of “tch why has taemin not fallen from grace yet?? he’s too goody-two-shoes to be true!” or “this dude must be a cash-hungry slaving robot who uses sex to sell as a sleazy capitalist trick!!”. i just sincerely think he’s done so well, everything else would be unfair and inaccurate to say. enviably, taemin really found his own thing, that inspires. it’s no surprise how every shawol/taemin fan is just on fire (and every phobic tongue that rises against him shall be hilariously ridiculed without even bothering much: i like this idgaf attitude in the fandom, it resembles him a lot lol). can’t blame anybody, one hand movement by that cheeky guy, you’re hooked. 

i simply wanted to stress how taemin pulled off sticking around against the odds, being a charmed personality, and electrifying a multi-generational, multi-gender crowd and look damn sharp while doing it: even with a soft, sweet tenor voice such as his. we really have to thank jonghyun in all regards, whatever he has instilled in taemin was, and we all know that, zero percent in vain. it has given him a huge portion of that “X-factor” (or ‘T’-factor in this case lmao), in front of the camera that only the greats have, far beyond just doing ‘attempted personal branding aaand done, retired, forgotten’.

even if yes, that still contributes on the hard-to-ignore business side, SM knew how to do one thing right after all. we don’t know idols personally still, and taemin clearly found his perfect niche, giving the audience what other artists desperately cannot offer on that ‘market’, if you want to put it like that. but either way, he seems much more than the industry in a way? and MJ/Prince, for that matter, despite an obvious inspiration? like a feeling. or musing. really, how does he do it 😭

taemin’s success, fan-favorite status and concept ahead of the curve is so difficult to explain and that’s probably why people enjoy him and his work: it is curated, not calculated. i think there’s huge difference, even if the production process is the same or similar everywhere. but the way most idols are fascinated by taemin says it all basically, he’ll be talked about for decades after and always come back successfully, gaga-style. ngl taemin could never bore me (am i the only one who still positively loses it when he hits the pose? i never found it annoying, i love that shit) it’s so easy to like what he does. his enigma makes him an artist, and i hope he’ll be around for long to spread his cheeky little mischief.

TLDR; i just wanted to emphasize how awesome taemin is and got totally carried away.

[t-r99]

Praise

Karasu Tabito x reader

Listen, @nesssssssssssssssssssssss asked for some more Caw Caw Bitch and I am more than happy to oblige.

I love how this page gradually went from simping for Aiku to simping for Karasu. I also noticed that my Karasu posts have gotten more likes and reblogs lately and FUCK YEAH. MORE LOVE FOR CAW CAW BITCH.

warnings: soft smut

wc: 730

Do we think Karasu would be into locker room sex? Of course he would, is that even a question?

He is not the typical, "I don't care if someone walks in." type who would be turned on by a little voyeurism because your pretty moans and soft whimpers are only for him to hear. He's the only guy in the world who gets to see you naked and flushed in the face and all fucked out.

It's always the same. The guys would want to go out to grab a bite and Karasu would decline and say he's tired and just wants to go home, and theeeen he would call you.

He's sensitive, okay? We all know how he feels about himself, so despite being a top player and one of the strongest members of his team, Karasu feels mediocre and not worthy of the praise everyone showers him with.

ayooo this fucker would be such a whore for praise

Whenever his mind wanders and he starts to put himself down, Karasu immediately goes to you for affirmation.

"I did good, didn't I?" His voice is breathy and low, and it's the sexiest sound in existence.

More than that, he did amazing during the game. "You did amazing." You give his lips a quick peck. "'m so proud of you."

That makes his heart swell. "Yeah?" Karasu pants.

"Uh huh . . ." Your hips falter as you move, seated comfortably on his lap with his cock filling you up deliciously while seated on the bench

Everything you do makes his ego swell until he feels like a God, every little movement and noise in that pretty little voice of yours that sounds like sweet heaven. It makes him greedy for more, desperate to have you praise him. "Tell me," Karasu breathes and moves a hand up to caress your flushed cheek. "Tell me how amazing I am." He smirks.

So cute when he begs for praise like this. "You are the best," You've got your hands planted firmly on his chest, his skin warm and heart pounding. "most amazing," He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and groans. "player out there," You say softly, continuing with, "and my pretty boy."

"I'm hot." He corrects.

"And pretty."

"I'm also hot." Karasu smirks.

"You're both." Your lips slot against his, all soft and swollen and a pretty shade of pink. "You did great out there." You whisper.

That gets his heart pumping, and his dick throbbing.

"Well, I had to play to impress. You were watching." Karasu grips your sides, palms hot against your skin where he holds tight and essentially just manhandles you down onto the bench.

Oh, shit, this position feels good.

He pushes your legs against your chest and the new position makes you see stars with how deep he reaches inside you. "You're so pretty like this." Karasu breathes. Eyes wandering down, he sucks in a sharp breath as he takes in the sight of your sloppy hole sucking him in. "Fuck."

The best thing Karasu knows is the sound of your heavenly voice making sweet like sounds for him, and he can't stand thought of someone else hearing your pretty moans echo and bounce of the locker room walls.

He moves down in a flash and captures your lips in a heated kiss. It's hungry and messy, so intense it makes your head feel light. "Not too loud now," Karasu smirks against your lips. "don't want no one to hear now, do we?" He kisses you again and picks up the speed, pounding into you with fervour and groaning into your mouth. Everything about you is just so delicious from your soft lips to your smooth skin and your tight little hole that takes him so well.

Your arms lock around his neck, holding him close as you deepen the kiss in a wordless plea for him to cum for you.

"'m cum'n . . ." He pants, his thrusts growing sloppy.

His cock throbs inside you and it makes you shiver with need. "Inside."

That one word alone makes his balls draw tight and pushes him over the edge, painting your insides white and filling you to the brim.

He's just such a sucker for you and turns into a sensitive little puppy in your arms. How could he ever deny what you beg for in that sweet voice?

*

i mean come the fuck on. are you telling me this bitch with THIS smug look on his pretty face wouldn't fuck you senseless in the locker rooms?

[suireunie]

YOU SHOULDN'T BE ON MY MIND [SJY]

Pairing: Jake Sim x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, College AU, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Smut (18+)

Warnings: Strong language, sexual content (protected), emotional denial, unresolved tension, academic setting, mutual obsession, soft aftercare, rough sex, spanking kink, dirty talk, jealousy, possessiveness, semi-public setting (party), light choking, overstimulation, praise/degradation, protected sex Heavy emotional angst, heated argument, yelling, crying, possessive!Jake, unprotected sex, creampie, wall sex, marking, rough/passionate sex, choking, dirty talk, toxic attachment themes, intense make-up sex, light aftercare

Word Count: ~ 7.5k

18+ only — NSFW

I couldn't choose the photo that I had to put in this post BECAUSE JAKE IS SO DAMN HOT in every photo!!!😭❤️‍🔥🤭🔥

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You never meant to hate Jake Sim.

But you did. It wasn’t just the braces comment back in middle school or the way he’d always snatched the last word like it was a trophy. It wasn’t just the fact that he somehow ended up in your classes every goddamn semester, or how his voice always, always, managed to find your ears even in a packed room.

It was how he made everything feel like a competition. Like he had to one-up you just to breathe. You said you were writing a research essay early? He started his the week before. You got the highest midterm score? He “accidentally” beat you by two points and made sure you knew it.

And worst of all, it was how he looked at you. Like he knew exactly how to get under your skin. Like he enjoyed it.

“Still trying to make up for not being funny by being smart?” he’d asked last month as you passed each other in the library. You didn’t even turn your head. “Still trying to coast by on mediocre charm and tight jeans?”

You always had something ready. So did he. That’s why the thought that had crept into your brain lately—the inconvenient, unforgivable, absolutely wrong thought—was so dangerous:

> Jake looked really fucking good when he was irritated. And he was always irritated. Especially around you.

He’d sigh with dramatic flair whenever you raised your hand in class. Glare whenever you got praise from a professor. And one time, when you laughed too loudly at another guy’s joke, he’d snapped his pen in half. Just snapped it and muttered, “So stupid,” under his breath.

You were starting to notice things you shouldn’t. The veins on his forearms. The way his tongue poked the inside of his cheek when he was holding back a comment. How his hair fell across his eyes when he leaned over his notebook. How his hoodie smelled like cinnamon and sandalwood when he brushed past you too close. You’d catch yourself thinking about him and hate yourself for it. Every time. But the final push—the thing that shifted it all—was the stupid love proposal.

A guy from your behavioral psych class had waited outside the lecture hall, fidgeting with a single folded note and a candy bar. It was awkward, sweet, earnest. Jake saw the whole thing from a few feet away, leaned against a vending machine like he was casually bored. But you caught the flicker in his eyes when the guy reached for your hand.

And when he walked past you afterward, he didn’t even look at you. Just said, “Didn’t think that was your type.” You’d snapped. “What is my type, then?” Jake looked at you then. Really looked. And the silence between you was violent.

He walked away. You didn’t go out with the guy.

---

Later that night, you sat on your dorm floor, textbook open, rereading the same sentence over and over while your mind screamed his name.

> “Jake Sim is not attractive. Jake Sim is an arrogant, smug, irritating—” You groaned and pressed your hands to your face.

He was ruining you. You were thinking about his hands when you were eating breakfast. Imagining his mouth when you zoned out during lectures. You’d caught yourself wondering what his bedhead looked like, what his laugh sounded like when it wasn’t mocking. This wasn’t just attraction. It was a spiral. The worst part? You were sure he hated you just as much. But if he did… why did he look at you like that?

A week later, the university held a spring bonfire. It was late, crowded, the air smelled like smoke and citrus. You weren’t planning to stay long. Just enough to show face, sip a soda, make sure your friends saw you pretending to have fun. And then Jake showed up.

He wore a flannel half-buttoned over a tank top, hair messily swept back like he’d barely tried and still managed to look better than everyone else. His eyes landed on you the second he arrived. You turned to leave. You made it halfway across the field before his voice stopped you.

“Running away? Not very on-brand.” You spun. “I’m not running. I’m avoiding stupidity. Big difference.” He stepped in front of you. “So I’m stupidity now?”

“Are you seriously fishing for a compliment?” His eyes narrowed, but there was something in them. Something shaky. Almost… vulnerable.

“Why didn’t you say yes to that guy?” he asked, voice lower now. You blinked. “What?”

“The dude who gave you the note.” You swallowed. “Why do you care?” Jake didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at you—really looked—and said, “Because I think about you more than I should.” The words hit like a punch. Your mouth opened. Closed. “You—what?”

“I don’t want to,” he added quickly. “Trust me. You piss me off. You’re loud and stubborn and always act like you know everything—”

“You’re literally describing you right now.” “Exactly.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We’re both nightmares.”

“And yet here you are,” you said, voice suddenly dry, “at a party, standing in front of me like you’ve been thinking about this.”

“I have,” he admitted, jaw clenched. “I’ve been thinking about it every damn day.”

He stepped closer. “And I hate it.”

Your breath caught.

“I hate that I think about you when I wake up. I hate that I look for you in every class. I hate that I remember the exact sound you make when you’re about to argue, and I especially hate that when I see other guys talk to you, I want to break something.”

Silence.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and your fists clenched at your sides. “You’re an idiot,” you said softly. Jake’s lips twitched. “I know.”

Then you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was years of repressed tension, years of eye rolls and bickering and heat, colliding all at once. His hands were on your waist, pulling you in. Your fingers tangled in his shirt. He groaned into your mouth like he’d been waiting forever to do this—and maybe he had. People around you blurred. Disappeared. It was just him. His lips, his breath, the way his body pressed into yours like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Come with me,” he whispered against your mouth. You didn’t hesitate

The moment the dorm door closed behind you, he pinned you gently against it, kissing you again—harder this time. Messier. His hands roamed your sides, skimming under your shirt.

“I’m still mad at you,” you breathed between kisses. “Good,” he growled. “Let it out later.”

His lips traveled down your jaw, to your neck, sucking softly where your pulse jumped. “God,” you gasped. “I hate how good this feels.”He chuckled.

You undressed each other like it was a challenge—mouths never far, touches getting bolder. Jake’s hands were reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you. When he slid your pants down, he paused, eyes dark and serious.

“You okay?”You nodded. “More than.”

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he murmured.

You kissed him instead. Moments later, you were on your bed, skin against skin. His body pressed against yours, solid and warm. He kissed you like he meant it. Like he’d never stop. When he slid inside you, your back arched instinctively.

“Shit,” he whispered. “You feel…”

You pulled him closer. “Don’t stop.”

He moved slowly at first, watching your face, learning every reaction. Then deeper, faster. Your nails dug into his back. His forehead pressed to yours. You didn’t say “I love you.” Neither of you were ready for that. But everything about the way he held you said it for you. When you came, it was with his name whispered against his neck. He followed, shuddering against your body like he was unraveling.

After, he kissed your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then your fingers.

“I still think you’re annoying,” you mumbled into his chest. He laughed, voice low and wrecked. “Yeah? Still hate me?” You hesitated. Then shook your head. “I think we’ve been lying to ourselves for years.” Jake kissed the top of your head. “Then let’s stop lying.”

You didn’t become a soft couple overnight. You still fought—about grades, coffee orders, group chats. But now, every argument ended in breathless laughter, in touches, in quiet apologies whispered in bed.

You still hated him. Just not the same way.

Now, you hated how good he was at making you fall in love.

And he? He didn’t mind being hated like that.

Not anymore.

---

It was supposed to be a normal party.

Another too-loud, too-drunk, too-packed house party where you’d show up, stay just long enough to be seen, and dip out before anyone spilled jungle juice on your shoes. But Jake was there, and you were already halfway fucked before the second song dropped. He wasn’t supposed to look that good.

Dark jeans, black tee tight across his chest, chain glinting under the flashing lights. Leaning against the kitchen counter like he owned the place. Drink in one hand. Smirk in place. Eyes on you.

Always on you.

The tension hadn’t gone anywhere since that night in your dorm. If anything, it got worse. Because now he was yours—but you still argued like enemies. You still challenged each other with every glance. You still liked pushing buttons. Especially when the consequences felt this good. So when some random guy at the party leaned in too close, touching your arm, complimenting your laugh—you didn’t stop him. You didn’t even have to look across the room. You felt Jake’s eyes burning into the back of your neck. You leaned in a little closer. Smiled. Touched the guy’s chest lightly when he said something dumb.

That’s all it took.

You barely got a breath before Jake was behind you, voice low and deadly in your ear.

“Outside. Now.”

You turned, slow and smug. “Problem?”

His jaw clenched. “Big one.” You didn’t protest. Didn’t even pretend to resist. Just let him lead you through the crowd, one hand tight around your wrist as he pulled you down the hallway to a guest room and slammed the door behind you.

The second it shut, his mouth was on yours. Not soft. Not sweet.

Hungry. Brutal.

He kissed you like he was mad about it. Like he wanted to ruin you for ever looking at someone else. And maybe he did. You gasped against his lips, and he growled, walking you backward until your back hit the wall.

“You think I didn’t see that?” he hissed, dragging his mouth along your jaw, down your neck. “Letting that loser touch you?” “He was just talking,” you breathed.

“Don’t play stupid,” Jake snarled. “You wanted me to see.” His hand slid under your skirt—rough, fast, no hesitation. His fingers skimmed your inner thigh, and he smiled when he felt how soaked you already were. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re wet from teasing me? You like pissing me off, baby?” Your head fell back against the wall, and he took that as permission. One hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. The other slid between your legs again, rubbing circles over your panties.

“You like making me jealous?” he whispered, voice hot against your cheek. “Want me to show you what happens when you act like a fucking brat?” “Yes,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

Jake laughed—a low, dangerous sound. “You’re gonna regret that.” He spun you around, pressing your chest to the wall. His hands roamed your sides before hiking your skirt up over your ass.

“No panties?” he growled.

You looked back over your shoulder, daring. “Wanted to be convenient.” A sharp smack echoed through the room as his palm met your ass, hard.

You moaned, legs buckling slightly.

“Oh, you really wanted attention, huh?” He spanked you again, this time grabbing the flesh after. “This ass is mine. You hear me?”

“Yes, Jake,” you gasped.

Another slap. “Louder.”

“It’s yours!” you cried.

“Damn right.”

He spun you again, kissing you hard before pushing you toward the bed. You fell back onto the mattress, hair a mess, skirt bunched up, legs spread. Jake stared for a second, chest heaving, lips parted. “You look like a fucking dream.”

You smirked. “You gonna stare or—”

He dropped to his knees between your thighs before you could finish, tongue licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy. You gasped, hips jerking. He didn’t let you go. Just held you there, arms tight around your thighs, mouth working you with practiced, filthy focus.

“Jake—” you whined, hands grabbing at his hair. He pulled back for just a second, mouth shiny with spit. “What, baby? Need to come already? Thought you could handle a little attention.”

“Please,” you moaned.

“You’re not getting shit until I say so.”

He went back in—rougher now. Tongue flicking, sucking, devouring like he wanted to make you cry from it. You were shaking by the time he finally pulled back again.

“You take my cock this needy and I’ll break you,” he said darkly, unzipping his jeans. “Do it,” you challenged, voice wrecked.

Jake’s eyes went wild.

He stripped his shirt off, then shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself. He was already hard—thick, red at the tip, veins prominent along the shaft. He slid a condom on quick, then grabbed your hips, flipping you onto your stomach.

“Ass up. Face down.”

You obeyed without question, back arched, breath ragged. Jake lined himself up, dragged the head of his cock through your wet folds, and slammed into you in one rough thrust. You screamed into the mattress.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, snapping his hips again. “God, I missed this pussy.”

His pace was brutal from the start—deep, fast, relentless. Each thrust sent shockwaves through you, your hands gripping the sheets like they’d keep you from falling apart. He leaned over you, mouth hot against your ear “You’re mine,” he growled. “No one else gets to touch you. You understand me?” You nodded frantically.

Another slap to your ass.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours! I’m fucking yours, Jake!”

“Say you’re sorry for teasing me.”

“I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“For making you jealous!”

“That’s right, baby. Next time you wanna flirt with some loser, remember how I fuck you.”

He pulled you up by the hair so your back arched harder, hand sliding around to grip your throat—tight enough to make you gasp, just enough to make your pussy clench around him.

“Gonna come?” he hissed.

You nodded again, tears pricking your eyes.

“Then come for me,” he growled, slamming into you harder. “Make a fucking mess.”

You broke with a sob—shaking, moaning, your whole body tensing as your orgasm ripped through you like a storm. Jake cursed, hips stuttering.

“Shit, baby—fuck—” He slammed in deep one last time, groaning as he spilled into the condom. You both collapsed—sweaty, panting, fucked-out messes. For a long moment, all you could hear was the distant thump of party music and your own heartbeat in your ears.

Then Jake shifted behind you, brushing sweaty hair from your face, kissing your shoulder softly. “You okay?” he murmured. You nodded, still trembling slightly. “Yeah. That was…”

“Intense?” You laughed breathlessly. “Yeah.”

He helped you sit up, gently pulling your skirt back down, then took off his shirt and offered it to you like a robe. You pulled it on without thinking. It smelled like him—cologne, sweat, faint beer.

Jake watched you with something softer in his eyes now. “Next time you want attention,” he said, voice low, “just ask.” You smirked, lips swollen. “Where’s the fun in that?” He grinned. “I fucking hate you sometimes,” he whispered, leaning in.

“I know,” you whispered back, kissing him slow. “I fucking hate you too.” But neither of you stopped touching each other. And neither of you planned to.

--- A weeks later ---

It started with something stupid. As always. A sarcastic comment in a group setting. You’d snapped at him in front of his friends, and Jake—prideful, sharp, already high-strung—bit back harder. By the time you stormed out of his apartment, you were trembling. By the time he caught up to you halfway down the stairs, he was shouting.

“You’re always fucking running, huh?” Jake spat, chest heaving. “Every time I say something you don’t like, you leave like a fucking coward.

You turned on him, eyes glassy and wild. “Because you don’t fucking listen, Jake! You think everything’s a goddamn game.”

“You think we’re a game?” he shot back, stepping closer, dangerously close. “You think I just fuck you to pass the time?”

“No,” you said, voice cracking. “But you sure as hell act like you don’t care sometimes.”

Silence.

Jake’s expression fractured for a beat. Then came the low, guttural response “You think I’d be this fucking crazy over you if I didn’t care?”

You blinked, breathing sharp. He laughed, bitter. “You think I don’t care when I think about you all day? When I fucking ache every time you look at someone else like I don’t exist?”

You said nothing. It was too much. His voice dropped, strained. “You don’t even see it. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I didn’t ask you to fall for me,” you snapped, even though it hurt to say. “I didn’t want this. I never did.” That did it.

Jake’s face darkened. Eyes burning, jaw clenched like he was holding back something violent. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me.”

You turned anyway. But Jake moved fast.

One hand grabbed your wrist, the other fisted in your hair—and before you could even gasp, he had you pinned against the stairwell wall, body caging you in. “You don’t want me?” he growled, voice shaking. “Then why the fuck are you shaking right now?”

Your breath caught. Jake leaned closer, face inches from yours, all rage and desperation.

“Say it,” he snarled. “Say you don’t want me and I’ll let you go.” You said nothing. Because your heart was beating out of your chest, and your thighs were clenched, and your whole body ached for him—even through the anger.

His hand slid between your legs, rough and knowing. “Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s what I thought.” He kissed you then—hard, furious, all tongue and teeth, like he was trying to erase the fight with the taste of him.

You moaned into his mouth, letting him press you harder to the wall, letting the heat swallow you both whole. “Fucking hate how much I want you,” he growled against your throat, kissing and biting, leaving marks like proof.

“Then show me,” you whispered. “Prove it.”

Jake didn’t hesitate.

He dragged your shorts down just enough, shoved his sweats down, and lined himself up, bare and already leaking. “No condom?” you gasped.

“Don’t give a fuck,” Jake growled. “Wanna come inside you. Wanna claim what’s mine.” “Yours?” you snapped, even as your back arched. Jake shoved into you hard—deep, rough, bottoming out in one go. You cried out, nails scraping his arms.

“All fucking mine,” he growled, rutting into you like a man possessed. “You feel that? No one else can fuck you like this. No one else gets to own this cunt.” You were panting, already close, already ruined from the pressure and the pain and the goddamn emotion behind every thrust.

“Why do you even want me,” you choked out. “All we do is fight—” “Because I’d rather fight with you than breathe without you,” Jake hissed.

He lifted one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist for better angle, and drove into you deeper—sharp, punishing thrusts that made you see stars. “I think about you every fucking night,” he muttered, face buried in your neck. “I jerk off to the memory of your voice. Your smell. Your fucking laugh.”

You whimpered, head rolling back. “I’d kill someone if they touched you,” he growled. “That’s how bad it is. That’s how fucking gone I am.”

You grabbed his face, kissed him like it would fix something, and broke apart as your orgasm ripped through you—violent and desperate. Jake slammed in one more time, groaning against your neck as he spilled inside you, pulse after pulse of hot, messy come deep in your pussy.

He didn’t move for a long time.

Just held you there—fucked-out, sweaty, crying—and kissed your shoulder as you caught your breath. Eventually, he pulled out, watched the mess drip down your thighs.

“Come here,” he muttered hoarsely, scooping you into his arms. You didn’t resist. He carried you back up the stairs—to his bed this time—and pulled the blanket over both of you. You were still shaking. He kissed your temple.

“…Don’t leave me again,” he whispered. You buried your face in his chest.

“I won’t,” you whispered back. “Not if you fight for me.” His arm tightened around you. “I’ve been fighting since the day I met you.”

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

[munsonsmixtapes]

First Time

Find part two here!

virgin!Eddie x experienced!fem!reader

since smut won the poll, heres what I came up with!

summary: you hook up with a very inexperienced Eddie in a club bathroom

cw: MDNI 18+ smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) Eddie receives a handjob

The club was very overcrowded with dancing bodies covering the dance floor. You had a drink in your hand and were dancing the night away without a care in the world. By that time in the night, you usually had someone to take home, but you came up empty handed. Nobody looked good. They were all either drunk off their asses or definitely looked like they’d slip something into your drink when you weren’t looking.

You scanned the place one last time, deciding that if you didn’t find anyone, you’d just go home by yourself, your only company being your fingers and vibrator. They did the job just fine, but sometimes you just didn’t want to fall asleep alone.

You noticed a table that was to the far left. Four men were sitting at it, laughing their asses off about something while sipping from their drinks. Your eyes locked on the one with curly hair, deciding that he was the one. He was so pretty and definitely your type. As you got closer, you could see that he had a beard which made you even more attracted to him.

You could practically imagine his beard scraping your chin and above your top lip as he kissed you roughly, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to pull you closer.

As you approached the table, you noticed the small silver hoop looped through the right side of his nose. You loved men with piercings, finding them to be very attractive. Everyone at the table but him looked your way, all curious as to who you were going to talk to.

“Hey handsome,” you greeted but he still wasn’t making eye contact with you, almost as if he was avoiding it. The Black guy sitting next to him nudged his shoulder and he turned in his direction, only for his friend to point to you.

“Me?” He seemed confused as he pointed at himself, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You are handsome, aren’t you?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow as he got all flustered. God, he was adorable.

“I mean, I guess so,” he shrugged. You loved a modest man. Too many of them had a lot of confidence for being so mediocre.

“What’s your name?” His own name completely faded from his brain. Women didn’t usually talk to him, especially not super hot women such as yourself.

“Eddie,” the guy on the other side of him answered for him. For whatever reason, the name suited him. He looked like an Eddie.

“Well, Eddie, do you want to dance with me?” Dance? Eddie could do that to save his life, but since such a beautiful woman was asking, he had no choice but to say yes.

“He’d love to,” the same guy answered for him and pushed him up from his seat. You weren’t going to dance with him if he didn’t want to. Consent was very important and only wanted to do things with people if they were really enthusiastic about it. And that went for both inside and outside the bedroom.

“Would you?” You asked, wanting to make sure.

“I really would,” he nodded furiously and stood up from his chair, taking the hand that you were offering him.

You pulled Eddie out on the dance floor and he was quick to turn to his friends in panic. He had no idea what he was doing, but they all just gave him a reassuring thumbs up.

He liked the way your hand felt in his, all soft and warm. He let you lead him through all of the drunk, dancing bodies on the floor, just happy to be there. He tried his best to keep up with how fast your legs were moving. There was no way that he was losing you in the crowd. He could barely handle going to clubs with his friends, let alone by himself.

This whole thing was so overstimulating; the lights, the loud music and the people yelling over the loud music. Eddie hated it, but he only went because his friends liked it. While they danced, he sat at the table, throwing back glasses of whiskey like they were going out of style.

But there he was, actually getting his ass out onto the floor because you had asked him. He had denied so many invitations because he was afraid of looking stupid or being made fun of which had just been a product of not being desired in his youth. He was the freak, a loser, a person who just wasn’t worth anyone’s time. So why did he think that he was worth yours?

You stopped in the center of the floor and turned your back to him, taking no time to grind your ass on his dick to the beat of the pop song that was blasting through the speakers. Eddie had no idea what he was doing, but he was loving whatever was going on.

You grabbed his hands that were still by his side and guided him to rest them on your waist. You moved to the music together and Eddie could already feel his dick getting hard at the feelings of your ass grinding against his crotch.

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. You turned around as the song chance and draped your arms around his shoulders. Eddie’s hands ended up on your ass when you moved in his arms and quickly slid his hands up to your back, thinking that it was a safe place for them.

“You’re quite the dancer, Eddie,” you smiled and he was grateful that you couldn’t see his blush in the terrible club lighting. He knew you were lying but he appreciated the compliment. He couldn’t dance to save his life and was sure that you agreed.

“Oh, am I?” He sounded so unsure and you thought it was refreshing that a man as attractive as him had no idea how good he was at anything.

“Definitely,” you nodded then leaned closer, your lips right by your ear. “You know, I can take care of that little problem in your pants if you’d like.” He felt a shiver run down his spine at both your breath and thinking about you “taking care” of his boner.

The thought made him kind of nervous. He didn’t have any sexual experience, hell, he hadn’t even kissed anyone since Josie Geller when he was thirteen and that hadn’t really counted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had offers, he’d had many, but his insecurity always got the best of him. He was just convinced that it was all a prank and was quick to shut it down, not wanting to fall for anything like that again. He had had enough tin high school.

But for some reason, he has fully believed that you were being genuine. He could see the look in your eyes; it was excited and full of lust. You had to be telling the truth. Either that, or you were just a really good actress and he didn’t think that was the case.

“I would love that.” His words came out breathy and rushed and he hoped that you couldn’t see how desperate he was for you to help him with his little problem.

You took him by the hand and the two of you made a beeline for the bathroom. Eddie was almost giggling while you kept it cool. You had had your fair share of bathroom sex while he hadn’t had sex period. It was almost funny how opposite you were.

You pushed the women’s bathroom door open and checked to make sure no one else was in there before pushing him into one of the stalls. Eddie pressed his hands against the walls so he wouldn’t fall into the toilet while you locked the door and turned around to face him, your eyes lighting up as you took him in.

He was so hot even in the dark of the bathroom stall with the way his messy, curly hair that you just wanted to run your hands through, giving it a tug as pounded into you. Your gaze moved to his pretty pink lips and you could see that they were a bit chapped but you hardly minded. You just needed to feel them on yours.

You leaned forward, but Eddie put his hand on your shoulder to stop you. He took a deep breath before licking his lips, preparing himself to tell you the truth. He felt he owed that to you.

“Before we start anything, I should tell you that I’m a virgin.” Your eyes widened, now feeling guilty for pulling him into the stall. You pulled your hands away, backing up to the door, trying your best to give him space in the small area.

“Oh my god, I-I had no idea.” You put your hands up to your face to cover it, but Eddie quickly pulled them away.

“How could you have known?” Eddie wasn’t going to blame you for something you didn’t know. He just wanted you to be aware of the situation before you continued.

“We don’t-we don’t have to-”

“But I want to.” Even though Eddie didn’t know you, he still felt like he could trust you, not getting a single feeling in his gut like he had all the other times women approached him. It just felt right being there with you and he was hoping you felt the same.

“You do?” You wanted to be one hundred percent certain before you continued, wanting him to be absolutely sure that it was what he wanted.

“So badly. I mean,” his snapped to his still very hard dick and your gaze followed. “Still want to take care of it for me?”

“You’re sure you want to lose it to a stranger?” Eddie stepped closer to you so that you were chest to chest. He looked at you, taking in all your features and now that he was looking at you up close, he could confirm that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and couldn’t have been more honored to have you take his virginity.

“I’m sure.” He gave you a nod and you slowly moved your arms to wrap around his neck while his went to your waist. You slowly inched your face towards his, capturing his bottom lip between your two.

He was quick to respond, mimicking your actions, hoping that he was as good at it as you were. He honestly had no idea what he was doing, but he was confident that you’d teach him, showing him exactly what he needed to do so he was fully prepared for next time.

The kiss slowly progressed to hot and heavy as you swiped your tongue along Eddie’s bottom lip. He opened up and let his tangle with yours, a whimper escaping from the back of his throat as he did so. His eyes widened at the noise and he pulled away, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” you told him softly. “Make as much noise as you want. And actually, I found that really hot.” Even though first times could be awkward for some, you wanted Eddie’s to be memorable for him. Something he could look back on positively and not in embarrassment.

“Oh.” His cheeks burned at your compliment and you thought it was adorable how you could make him blush so easily.

“Wanna make it again?” Eddie thought for a moment and decided that he did, especially since you thought it sounded hot.

“I do, actually,” he nodded and your lips were back on his in a second. You licked into his mouth once again and he let out another whimper, not holding it back this time. You felt your cunt getting wet at hearing the noise and you slow moved your hand down his chest, stopping right when it got to his belt buckle.

You pulled away and looked at him for permission. He nodded his head furiously, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and you slowly unbuckled his belt, giving him plenty of time to back out if he wanted to. You pulled down his pants and let them his the tops of his shoes before shimmying his underwear down his legs. You let out a gasp at how big he was, feeling honored that you were the first one that he was going to let touch it.

“Wow,” you said, looking back up at his eyes. “You really are huge, aren’t you? I’m going to consider myself grateful that you’re going to let me take care of it.”

“Wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, to be honest.”

Beads of pre were falling from the head and you looked around for your purse that had fallen to the floor at some point. You pulled out a small bottle of lube and put some in one of your hands before letting it and your purse to fall back to the floor.

You stepped forward and grabbed hold of Eddie’s dick, moving your hand up and down the shaft slowly to test the waters to see if he liked it. His hands moved to hold on to the wall as he threw his head back. A moan fell from his lips and you were convinced that you hadn’t heard anything hotter.

You continued to pump, making your movements harder and faster at his commands, wanting him to be in control and tell you what he wanted. Moan after moan fell from his lips and now you felt like he was ready for more.

“Can I suck you off?” You asked, your hand slowing down, but still moving at a good pace. Eddie still had his head titled backwards, his eyes closed and you felt yourself getting even more wet at seeing him like that, coming undone from your touch.

“God, please,” he groaned and you slowly dropped to your knees.

Your hand wrapped around the base and you took him into your mouth giving his dick a suck while your tongue swirled around the head. Eddie’s hands pressed flat against the stall as he threw his head back even more at the pleasure he was experiencing. God, this was so much better than using his hand.

“Shit,” he moaned, his breath becoming heavy. He closed his eyes, trying hard to prevent his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

You continued to suck, taking all of him into your mouth, ignoring the fact that your eyes were watering, desperate to give him the best head of his life. Your tongue swiped along to tip another time as you sucked the hardest you could, eliciting the prettiest sounds from Eddie.

For the finale, you stood up and gently pulled down on his chin to force him to look at you. His eyes opened and he watched you swallow, feeling his knees buckle as you did so. God, you were so fucking hot.

“Fuck,” he moaned and pulled you into a kiss, his beard scratching roughly at your skin as he took what he wanted from you, you happy to be pliant under his touch. His hands moved down to your pants and you let him unbutton them, pushing them down so they hit your ankles and you kicked them off, leaving them in a small pile next to you.

“Is that all for me?” Eddie asked, his lips parting as he stared down at the wet patch that had dampened your underwear.

“And only for you,” you winked. “You think you’re ready to get inside me?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” he breathed.

You pulled a condom from your purse and opened it before sliding it onto his cock. Once he was all set, you stepped forward, helping him line up with your pussy. He then slowly entered you, the two of you letting out moans as he did so.

He grabbed onto your waist and slowly pumped in and out of you, trying to feel it out for himself. You moaned as he pumped, closing your eyes in pleasure as you grabbed onto his neck.

“Am I doing this right?” He asked, unsure and you just moaned in response.

“Oh, Eddie.”

He began to moved a little faster which elicited more moans from you as you wound your hands into his hair, giving it tug after tug. You both moved together, feeling nothing but pleasure as he began to pound into you.

“Just like that, baby, yeah,” you whined and Eddie continued, feeling super confident about his movements, knowing that you’d let him know if you didn’t like something.

Sex was far better than he thought it was going to be, but he was sure that it was all because of you. You had been nothing but sweet and kind and made him feel like a king. How was he going to have sex with anyone else when his first time was practically perfect.

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna-” he cut himself off as he reached his climax, suddenly feeling embarrassed that it had happened so quick.

“That’s right, honey,” you told him. “Let it out. You’re doing so well.”

“But I finished.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less how quickly he had finished. That just meant that you could have gone for round two that much faster if he was up for it.

“That’s okay,” you assured him as he pulled out. “Do you wanna…take this back to my place? I think it’d be more preferable to being here.”

“I’d love to go back to your place.” He pulled the condom off of his cock and tied it off before disposing of it. He then pulled up his underwear and pants before buckling his belt.

“Do you want to call a cab while I clean myself up here?” You asked and Eddie just nodded silently. You both shuffled around the stall so he could get to the door. You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before he opened the door. He then stepped out and pulled out his phone to call the cab company while you took a piss then cleaned yourself up.

You were confident that you had just had the best sex of your life. Who knew that a virgin knew exactly how to make you cum as opposed to men who slept around all the time? Maybe it was because he was actually interested in pleasing you.

As Eddie ordered the cab, he couldn’t help but let the images of you orgasming flash in his head. It was the hottest thing hearing you moan like that and he was looking forward to hearing it again and again even after the night was over. Maybe if he played his cards right, you’d invite him over again.

You exited the bathroom as Eddie hung up the phone and placed your lips on his, pulling him in for a sweet kiss that has been the exact opposite of the last one you had given him.

“C’mon,” you reached for his hand once you pulled away. “Let get out of here.” He put his hand in yours and you led him out of the bathroom and through the club, confident that you’d make his second time even better than the first.

[kawaiigirly21]

The Beast In His Arms: Chapter 1

“You are insufferable, brother. Why must you use violence against ones who are weaker than you? Are you a brute who hunts rabbits with a cannon? It is most upsetting! Father would be most disappointed and Mother would highly disapprove!” Looking down, Nayera cradled Mark’s head in her lap. His own blood soaking into her silky white fur and royal purple garment.

Tearing off a piece of her dress, Nayera pressed it to his head in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Not caring if her royal jewels were stained or that her well manicured claws were covered in blood that did not belong to her. Barely able to keep even one eye open, Mark managed to get at least a peak at her and what he did see, blew him away. “A…Goddess?” He asked weakly before falling out of consciousness.

That was the start of a beautiful friendship that blossomed into an even more beautiful romance. “You do know that’s not how you sit on a chair right?” Rex smiled as he watched Nayera perch herself on a chair much like a housecat. “These chairs are not at all comfortable, Rex. I am simply trying to adapt to this mediocre piece of furniture.” Nayera replied as her tail flicked in the man's face.

Mark was her boyfriend indeed, but Rex was her brother from another mother. While her love for Mark was a volcano, her platonic love for Rex was a hurricane. Both equally dangerous and the same level of strength. “Watch the tail puffball!” Since her time on earth, Nayera had joined the Guardians under the hero name Queen and made quite the name for herself. Some of it was good press and some was…not so good press.

“Nayera, look at this! Can you believe those assholes?” Amanda huffed as she showed Nayera her phone. The article in question was about her exclusively. ‘Queen the lion Guardian: Too extreme for hero work? 10 reasons why you should avoid the overgrown homicidal rage kitty.’ Tilting her head, Nayera handed the phone back to amanda. “I do not understand. Is this bad?” She questioned. Amanda nodded.

“Its not only bad, It’s fucking offensive! How dare they call you a homicidal rage kitty!” “That shit doesn’t even make fucking sense! What is a rage kitty?” Rex asked while his fake hand stroked Nayera’s soft fur. “Who is a rage kitty?” A voice spoke up from the entrance to the kitchen. “Mark my beloved!” Nayera jumped out of her chair and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend who picked her up and spun her around.

“Hey babe!” Rex groaned at the lovey dovey behavior. “Oh great, it’s the blatant reminder of my own inadequacies.” As Mark kissed Nayera’s head and whispered something in her ear, her tail swayed while she smiled all the while. The man then took her hand and bid his friends farewell. “If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to steal my girl for a bit. Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back before 10!”

Later that day, Nayera and Mark sat atop a building relaxing together while having lunch. Mark watched in amazement as Nayera ate her 7th burger like it was nothing before smiling softly and scratching under her chin causing her to freeze up then purr while leaning into his touch. She really was just a big house cat under all that lion dna. “I love you so much Nayera…So much.” Leaning more into his touch, Nayera purred louder as her eyes met Mark’s. “I love you too Mark.”

While the couple shared what was a very important moment, they hadn’t the slightest clue that they were being watched. Elsewhere. “That's so not fucking fair!” Mohawk Mark shouted as he stood amongst his fellow evil Mark variants watching the screen angstrom showed them. “How the fuck did he get a hot lion bitch and we all got stuck with Eve!?” Sinister Mark rolled his eyes under his goggles.

“Fuuuck, If I had known that Battle Beast had a cutie for a sister, I never would have killed him!” Lensless Mark smiled as he watched the screen. “She’d make a beautiful pet. I have the best means to spoil her.” Viltrumite Mark replied as he watched Nayera lay her head on her Mark’s lap while he continued to pet her. “Oh just look at that shit! Fucking pathetic! I’d be fucking her by now! What a pussy!” Veil Mark spat in utter contempt for his non evil counterpart.

Angstrom could tell that something had changed the variants. All they seemed to talk about since they saw her was Nayera. Nothing else. He could use that to his advantage. “Hey, craterface! If we do everything you want, we get what we want right?” Target Mark questioned in his usual loud tone. Angstrom simply nodded. “Anything you want.” He said coolly. He liked where this was going.

“We want our own dimension. One where we can take over and expand our empires. And we want her.” Omni Mark replied. “I like that idea. Our own empire and a pretty kitty to hold at the end of the day.” Spider Mark spoke with a softer tone. Angstrom smirked before speaking. “We have a deal then boys. Our plan begins soon. Prepare yourselves, to destroy his life.”

What do you guys think?

[hello-my-name-is-aves]

Sanemi Loves Giyuu Because He Reminds Him of Kanae

*Siiiiiiighhhh*

I have seen this theory posited one too many times, and I finally have to gently and lovingly tell anyone who will listen that it is just nonsensical bullshit.

To anyone who has ever thought/felt/argued this point: WDYM!? They both have....black hair? Because, truly, that is where any comparison between them ends. (And, in case we forgot, KNY takes places in Japan. Do you know how many people in Japan have black hair? The Hashira and Kamabokos are like a bunch of freakish outliers in terms of hair color.) So if we dismiss hair color, what else is there? They are different genders, different body types, different eyes, different skin tones - Surely we can all agree that Sanemi is NOT attracted to them both on the basis of a physical resemblance.

So what about personalities?

Kanae was gentle and soft and warm. She was kind-hearted and easy-going. She almost always had a smile on her face. She was friendly with everyone. She (with, perhaps, delusional optimism) had a dream of one-day living peacefully alongside demons.

...Does any of that sound like Giyuu Tomioka?

Giyuu who never smiles? Giyuu who, when he deigns to speak at all, speaks with callous dismissal and a sprinkle of sass? Giyuu who has exactly ZERO friends, is difficult to work with, and is beset by crippling self-doubt?

Kanae and Giyuu could not be more different. There is absolutely no way, none whatsoever, that Sanemi Shinazugawa looks at Giyuu and sees Kanae. If he does, it is only, perhaps, in a moment of nostalgia because the emotion he feels for both of them is love.

All of that assumes that Sanemi did, in fact, love Kanae AND Giyuu.

But, alas, I just find that impossible to buy into. Sanemi Did Not Love Kanae Romantically. Now, I want to preface this next bit with telling you that I have nothing against SaneKana as a fan ship. It has aesthetic appeal, and in full disclosure, I was a SaneKana shipper before I saw the light discovered SaneGiyuu. I do, however, take issue with anyone who claims on any level whatsoever that SaneKana was canon.

The piece of evidence people always point to when they claim that Sanemi loved Kanae is Gyomei the Tea Hashira's assessment of his fellow Hashira in the fanbook where he says of Sanemi: He seems to like Kanae.

And then the claim is supported on Sanemi's page when he says that he talks to Shinobu every now and then because she was Kanae's sister.

I cannot stress enough how mediocre that is as evidence. "Like" is such an ambiguous word. I LIKE a lot of people that I don't want to date/marry/shag. Sanemi also "Likes" Kyojuro. In another translation of the same page, it says on Obanai's section that he "Likes" Obanai best of all. No one is trying to claim that SaneRen and SaneOba are canon ships. If the statements were backed up by canon evidence for SaneKana then I could see it, but someone tell me, where is the evidence?

In the Manga, they have ONE interaction, and that is Kanae gently berating Sanemi for his outburst at his first Hashira Meeting.

In the Light Novels, they also have ONE interaction, and do you know how it goes...? Sanemi thinks about his mom. Guys. Guys. Sanemi did not have a crush on Kanae. He just was reminded of his mom by her gentle nature and her warm hands. When she is bandaging him up, there is no romantic tension, no eyes meeting or fleeting touches or little moments that indicate attraction. Sanemi gets totally distracted and lost in his own thoughts of his mother (until Kanae mentions the person there is an actual argument to be made for him having a crush on, Masachika.)

The Light Novel also makes it pretty clear imo that Sanemi has no interest in women at all. Now you could argue he just isn't interested in romance, full stop, but frankly, I think it is more likely that Sanemi just has crushes on boys, not girls.

Now that that's all said and done... You know else gets the "A likes B because they remind them of C" treatment? Giyuu, Sabito and Sanemi! I'll be giving Giyuu and Sabito a whole post of their own soon, so keep an eye out for it if you like <3 :)

So there you have it. Thanks for reading and have a blessed day!

(disclaimer in case it wasn't clear enough: I am not claiming that Sanemi canonically loves Giyuu or Masachika either. I'm just addressing the dynamic crossroads these fan ships too often find themselves in.)

[gnabnahc317cb97]

The Club

Bang Chan x Thick female reader

Word count: 6.3K

Synopsis: Friends to lovers such a cute trope... in theory. You go to the club with your two best friends and the clueless man you love, your roommate Chan. Will you be able to stand watching him hook up with yet another flawless girl that you could never compare to or are you finally at the end of your rope.

Warnings: Body image issues, cussing/strong language, unprotected piv intercourse (please use protection), cream pie, crying after sex. I think that's all, this one is fairly tame. If I missed something please let me know and I'll add it to the warnings asap!

Your best friend and roommate Chan knocked on your bedroom door and then walked into your room a second after, a typical move on his part.  

“Come right in why don’t ya.” You scoffed. Chan flashed his megawatt smile that you failed to see since you were laying on your bed face down after having the worst week of your life. He picked up one of your throw pillows and flung it at your head. 

“Hey wake up! Minho and Jisung called, we’re going to the club tonight so get ready!” You rolled over looking at the ceiling and pushed the pillow Chan threw on the floor instead of flinging it back towards him, he frowned a little. 

“Pass. You guys go without me.” The last thing you wanted to do was go and watch your three pretty best friends get hit on while you sat at a booth drowning your loneliness in whatever you felt like shooting back. It always happened and of course it did. They were three attractive men that could dance, they were articulate and kind as well. So they had their pick of the women whenever you all went out to the clubs. The club experience was not the same for you.  

You were bigger than most if not all the other girls at the club and your dancing was mediocre at best. Most of the time you would dance for a bit with the guys and eventually, one by one, they would break off with whatever girl rubbed against them. Then you would make your way to a booth and be there for the remainder of the night. No one ever approached you except your friends who would regularly check up on you, sit for a bit, maybe order a drink, then back out on the dance floor. You were sure it was a great time for them and usually it didn’t bother you that much but after your day, your week, you didn’t have the energy. Chan was persistent and wasn’t having it though. 

“What?! No no way we’re not going without you, we all always go together.” He grabbed you by your hands and you wished it didn’t make your heart race. Chan pulled you until you were sitting up. 

“So get. Dressed.” You rolled your eyes and pulled your hands away. 

“I said no Chan.” He rolled his eyes right back. 

“Give me one good reason why?” He crossed his arms in front of him and you let out a huff of frustrated air. A good reason why? Because you’d had a horrible week and you didn’t want to watch Chan rubbing against and kissing another perfect girl that he would bring home and you would ultimately have to listen to the soft moans and panting of a stunning girl you could only ever wish to be. You couldn’t say that to him though, so you sat there quietly. 

“See you don’t have one. Minho and Jisung will be here in forty-five. Get. Ready!” He spun around and left your room before you could argue more. So this would be your night, again. You just hoped your stupid heart could take it. Sure, being in love with your best friend and roommate is such a cute cliché trope until you’re living it, then its agony. You got up and started getting ready and by ready, you changed out of your work clothes into street clothes. You didn’t try, you just didn’t feel like faking it. So a basic pair of jeans, a tshirt, some converse, and your hair up in a ponytail was your attire for the evening. 

Chan thought he was going to have to drag you from your room by force but when Minho and Jisung showed up you walked out dressed and ready. Naturally since Minho and Jisung were your two only other friends they knew you had feelings for Chan. Not because you ever told them, nor would you admit it when Minho would allude to it. Minho just wasn’t an idiot and had eyes and Jisung... well Minho told him everything. Jisung was skeptical still. As soon as you walked out Minho knew something was off. You weren’t your normal glow-y self. He made fun of you constantly calling you concentrated sunshine because you just had this glow about you that made others around you smile and even though he teased you for it he found it endearing and a wonderful quality to have in a friend but that night he didn’t see it. He walked up to you. 

“You feeling okay?” You nodded. 

“Yea sure like a million dollars.” You deadpanned and went to walk past him to follow Jisung and Chan out the door but he stopped you. 

“Hey...” You looked at him and your eyes just looked empty. 

“You sure you should be going out?” You took a deep breath and tried to get a grip. 

“I’m okay Min really, let's just go please?” He was concerned but he wasn’t going to push you, not tonight at least. He grabbed your hand and you both headed out the door with your friends. 

Once you all arrived at the club the guys migrated towards the dance floor like you all always did, dance, then drink. You broke off and made your way over to the bar quietly. When Minho turned to make sure you were still right behind him, he didn’t see you anywhere. Chan already had a gorgeous girl in a silver sling of a club dress shaking her ass and backing it up on him and Jisung was just dancing with the mass of people. Minho couldn’t just dance and have carefree fun knowing you weren’t, he walked over to Chan and his ‘dance partner’. 

“Hey, did you see where y/n went off to? She was right behind me then gone.” Minho yelled over the music. 

“Probably getting a drink she’s been in a mood today I don’t know why.” Minho watched the girl grind her ass against Chan’s crotch and Chan’s hand slid across her backside as he moved his hips with her. Minho rolled his eyes, of course he didn’t know why. 

“You're my best friend but you’re an idiot sometimes...” Minho mumbled. 

“Huh?” Chan couldn’t hear him over the music, Minho raised his voice over it again. 

“I said I’m gonna check by the bar.” Chan nodded and waved at Minho as he made his way towards the bar rail. You had initially been at the bar but as soon as you had a drink you made your way over to one of the tables you would sit at usually. When Minho didn’t find you at the bar he knew he’d find you there. He slid in next to you at the booth you’d chosen for the night. You downed the rest of your glass and he looked at you. 

“How many is that?” You looked at him blankly. 

“Does it matter?” He arched one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows at you and narrowed his eyes. You sighed. 

“It’s only my first calm down officer.” Minho nodded. 

“Come, dance with me.” 

“Pass.” Minho grabbed you by the hand and pulled you. 

“I don’t think that was a request. Dancing, now.” You got up because at least you could get another drink in the process. Minho guided you towards the dance floor and started moving his body to the beat, you bobbed back and forth half-heartedly. By the second song Minho had gotten you to lighten up a bit, it helped that Jisung had joined you both and you had your friends near you. Well not all of them. You had been watching your feet or looking at Minho so you could read his lips when he spoke to you. Then you scanned the mass of people dancing and your eyes landed right on Chan and the silver dress girl making out and dancing, Chan’s hand gripping her ass as she giggled and he kissed her neck, their sweaty body’s moving in tandem with each other. Your face fell as your heart shattered into a million pieces. Minho could see it happening in your eyes. He scanned your line of sight and saw Chan and the girl. Before Minho could say anything, you excused yourself. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You pried your way through the people on the dance floor trying to get out of there and into the fresh air, you needed air. Jisung was confused when you dashed off and Minho just raised his hand as he followed you. 

“Just... stay here I’ve got her.” Minho cut through the crowd right behind you. You burst out the club door and into the cool night, taking gasps of air trying to will any and everything in your stomach to stay put. Minho popped out a second later and almost bumped right into you. 

“Hey, look... you know... about Ch-” You cut Minho off. 

“It was just hot I needed some air.” Minho rolled his eyes at you. 

“y/n I know-” You cut him off more forcefully, tears slightly collecting in the corners of your eyes. 

“I was hot Minho!” He stopped, pushing you would do no good and he didn’t want to upset you more than you already were. You sniffled a bit and pushed the tears back down. 

“I’ll be back inside in a minute.” He looked at you unable to hide the concern on his face. 

“Promise.” You said. He accepted that and headed back inside. You got yourself together outside and made your way back into the club a few minutes after Minho. You walked up to the bar, you promised Minho you’d come back inside, you didn’t say you wouldn’t drink. You were done dancing for the night you were ready to drink and forget. Forget the image of Chan and some gorgeous girl dry humping on the dance floor that was burned into your mind. You got your drink, several in fact, and made your way to your table again. Your drink of choice? Instant amnesia, tequila shots. Shortly after shot number six? Seven? Who cared. Shortly after you knocked back yet another shot Minho, Jisung, and Chan all crowded the table, the beautiful girl in the silver dress glued to Chan’s side. Minho snatched the empty shot glass out of your hand frustrated. 

“Did you drink all these?” He motioned at the slew of empty shot glasses in front of you. You just nodded and Minho sighed and looked over at Jisung who looked concerned but unsure how to help. The girl whispered something in Chan’s ear and he nodded laughing making Minho look over at him. Chan raised his eyebrows. 

“What?” Minho shook his head and motioned towards you. 

“Do you maybe wanna try and help me here?” Chan held up one finger to the girl. He slid into the booth seat next to you and she sat on the edge right by him. 

“What’s up?” He nudged you and you shook your head. 

“Why is everyone acting like this isn’t what we do every time we’re at the club? I drink and you guys...” You lifted your head enough to look over at the girl next to Chan. 

“do you. Just leave me alone.” Chan didn’t get why you were acting like this. So you had a bad week at work, you didn’t usually take that out on them and you definitely were never so short with them. 

“What’s your problem tonight?” You narrowed your eyes at him and then dropped your head back down. 

“Just leave me alone, I’m always alone anyway just...” Chan got a look on his face like the lightbulb just went off. So that was it you were upset no guys were approaching you. When Minho saw that look on Chan’s face he was almost certain it was the wrong lightbulb going off and braced for grade A Chan foot in mouth material.  

“Well of course, you’re dressed as frumpy as your attitude.” You looked at him with your jaw dropped as tears instantly pricked your eyes. Minho literally face palmed and even Jisung thought that was way harsh to say. Chan realized it was too far the moment it left his mouth. 

“Move and let me out.” You said quietly but sternly. The girl stood while Chan put his hands up and didn’t budge. 

“Wait...” You looked him right in the endless pools of brown you usually adored as your tears threatened to fall. It wasn’t even just that he’d said it but to say it in front of that beautiful girl, it tore your guts out. 

“Bang Christopher Chan move, or I will scream.” You took a deep breath preparing to scream as loud as you could, a tear slipping down your cheek and he quickly got up. You pulled yourself out of the booth and walked away without a word as they all watched. 

“Wow Chan of all the bone head things to say... I didn’t think you could say something so heartless, especially to y/n.” Before Chan could say anything Minho took off after you. You were drunk and crying against a brick wall when he found you. He promised not to ask or say anything, he just wanted to make sure you got home safe. He put his arm around you and walked you back to your apartment. Back in the club Jisung and Chan stood there in shock for a second. Neither of them had ever seen you like that before, then Jisung turned to Chan and gave him an angry look. 

“I know I know I feel like shit I’ll go apologize to her.” Chan turned to the girl that had been his dance partner and then some for the night. 

“Uhh sorry I’ve... I’ve gotta fix this, she’s my best friend.” She looked irritated but nodded and left for the dance floor again. Jisung suggested taking the long way back to your place to give you a little time to cool down and Chan decided that was probably a good idea. By the time you and Minho got to your place you had stopped crying. He led you to your room where he helped you take off your shoes and get into bed, you threw the cover back and peeled off your jeans leaving you in your panties before laying back. Minho’s face turned a little red and he looked away until you were covered again. He grabbed you a bottle of water and dragged your trash can by your bed in case you had to vomit. He went to leave your room and let you get some sleep but your voice came out tiny and shaky and it stopped him. 

“He doesn’t love me.” Minho turned. 

“Who?” He asked although he knew. 

“Chan.” It was the first time you’d ever admitted out loud to him that you were in love with Chan. Minho knew Chan was oblivious to it and he knew Chan loved you; they all did, but he really didn’t know if Chan was in love with you. 

“I don’t know, try not to think about it right now, okay? Get some rest.” You curled up and turned towards Minho. 

“Min?” He hummed smiling softly at you, he hated seeing that spark in your eye smothered by your tears. 

“Nothing.” He nodded. 

“Good night y/n. Sleep well.” He pulled your bedroom door closed and locked up on his way out. On Minho’s way home he ran into Jisung and Chan who had taken the long way so were walking from the opposite direction. Chan jogged up to him quickly. 

“Did you find her? Is she okay?” Minho nodded. 

“Yea I found her. She’s home, she’s in bed now.” Chan sighed in relief.  

“Thanks Min. I’ll make it right.” Minho nodded 

“I sure hope so.” Then Minho and Jisung headed towards their own apartment. When Chan got home he made sure to quietly unlock the front door. When he turned to go down the hall towards your rooms there you were in your tshirt and panties braced against the wall trying to get to the bathroom to brush the taste of tequila out of your mouth. If you weren’t still drunk you would have been mortified to be standing in front of Chan in your panties. 

“Oh hey, Minho said you were asleep already.” You shrugged. 

“Sorry to disappoint you but I’ll be sure to put earbuds in so you and your slumber party pal can be as loud as you want.” Chan’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Slumber party pal?” You pushed your fingers into your eyes and fought the migraine that was starting to form. You tried to walk into the bathroom and he stopped you. 

“Wait. What are you talking about? Do you mean the girl from the club?” What did that have to do with it. Chan was confused. 

“Yes the girl who’s attitude and certainly her dress were far from frumpy.” You could feel tears starting to form in your eyes again. You’d hoped you’d cried all you had in you. Chan felt the slap to the face your words were meant to carry. 

“y/n I shouldn’t have...” You cut him off angry. 

“You think I don’t know what you mean when you say that?!” Chan shook his head he didn’t understand, what he meant? 

“That I’m fat! I’m fat and not pretty! I’m fat and why would anyone approach someone like me! That I wasn’t her! You don’t think I know it already?! I see the way you look at her and I see the way you look at me and I know!” You looked down crying and realized you were standing there like a fool with no pants on. You ran to your room and slammed the door grabbing sweats and pulling them on before crawling into your bed hopeful that it would swallow you and take you away. Your head was pounding and you felt like you wanted to throw up, you just wanted to disappear.  

Chan stood there absolutely stunned. Why did you feel like you needed to compare yourself to that other girl? The alcohol was skewing your perspective, it had to be. You didn’t really think he meant that did you? You didn’t really think that about yourself, right? Sure the girl he was dancing with was beautiful but he thought you were beautiful too, you knew that, you knew he thought you were pretty. He thought it all the time when he watched you cooking dinner in the kitchen or when you both were curled up watching a documentary on sea cucumbers, he thought you were the prettiest when you laughed, which you did often... usually, not so much lately. You had to know because he thought it all the time... he thought.  

Thinking and saying are two totally different things. He tried to remember a time he’d told you that you looked pretty or that he thought you were beautiful and he couldn’t think of one, he couldn’t think of not one time he’d actually said out loud that he thought you were pretty. Underneath he knew a lot of other feelings came up with that statement, feelings he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with, feelings that may scare you, feelings that might make you uncomfortable. You lived together, things could get messy saying things like that, so he’d thought it all the time but looking back he’d never really said it. Then he said that. God he was an idiot.  

He walked up to your door and could hear you sniffling on the other side. He knocked and then walked in like he always did. When he did you turned your back to him. Your voice was small again, choked. 

“Go away.” Chan shook his head and took another step in. 

“No. I need to say something.” You buried your head deeper into your pillow. 

“Go awa-” 

“I think you’re beautiful.” You closed your eyes tightly, tears soaking your pillow. 

“Stop...” 

“I think you’re so beautiful and your body is...” You sat up and faced him. He had to stop. 

“Shut up! Chan just shut. Up!” 

“And your body is perf-” You got up and stormed towards him. You started beating on his chest with your fists and he held your arms stopping you, your eyes closed tight crying even harder, screaming at him. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Don’t lie to me! Don’t you ever fucking lie to me! I hate you! I hate you for doing this to me! I hate you for making me love you!” You collapsed to the floor in front of him, curled up sobbing and whimpering at his feet.  

“Liar... I hate you...” You choked out quietly and Chan stood there frozen by your confession. He looked down and saw you, then laid down on the floor beside you. He didn’t try to make you talk or hold you, he just curled up and laid there with you so you weren’t alone. He’d never leave you alone, you were his best friend and so much more. It wasn’t long before all the night’s events caught up and you both fell asleep next to each other on the floor.  

The next morning you woke up stiff and sore, your head was pounding not only from the alcohol but also the endless crying you’d done the night before. You winced as you opened your eyes and then realized the warmth behind you and an arm draped over you. You turned your head a little to look and saw Chan laying by you on the floor, his arm around you. You quickly scrambled away, waking him up in the process. You sat on the floor by your bed your knees pulled up to your chest. Your chest that felt so heavy, heavy filled with the memories and the pain from last night. Chan sat up and tried to see you through his sleep swollen eyes. 

“Uh hey... um, good morning...” He said in his deep groggy voice. You bowed your head. 

“Morning.” You replied quietly. Chan sat there and stared at you for a second until you started to squirm. He wasn’t sure what all you remembered from the night before. He finally snapped out of it and struggled standing up, stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. 

“I uh... will let you wash up then.” You nodded and he turned and left your room. You grabbed a fresh tshirt and pair of sweats and hurried to the bathroom. You took the longest shower of your life, brushed your teeth and felt a little better. Not great but you could open your eyes all the way at least. As you were coming out of the bathroom Chan was walking into the hall from the living room and you almost bumped into each other. 

“Oh, sorry.” He said as his hands gently held your arms to stop you from stumbling. You quickly pulled away. 

“It’s fine.” You practically ran for your room and shut the door. Chan knew for sure that you remembered at least part of the night before. He ran his fingers through his messy curls frustrated with himself and went into the bathroom to shower as well. When he was done he threw on some shorts and as he pulled his tshirt over his head you tapped at his door. 

“Yea?” You cracked it just a little and kept your eyes glued to the floor. 

“Um, I... can I talk to you?” Chan nodded. 

“Yea of course come-” 

“In the living room whenever you're done.” You quickly added. He frowned a little but shook his head. 

“Yea I’ll be right out.” You gave him a single nod and closed the door. It wasn’t long before Chan walked out into the living room. You were sitting on one end of the couch just kind of zoned out until he walked in. He walked over and sat on the other end of the couch turned towards you. When you finally willed yourself to look at him you couldn’t help the small frown that shifted onto your face when you saw him sitting there with his wet curls and hopeful eyes. Chan’s heart squeezed in his chest seeing your frown. 

“I think I should move out.” Like a bucket of ice water was thrown on Chan, that was his expression. 

“WHAT? WHY!?” You scoffed at his reaction and his question. 

“Seriously Chan? You know why. I was drunk but I remember everything. I just... need some... space, some time away...” You watched your hands as you picked at your cuticles. 

“From me?” Chan said pained. You looked up at him with tears rimming your eyes and nodded. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him and he was hit with a realization that he’d taken so much for granted, a realization that he was losing you. You stood up to head back to your room and Chan gently grabbed your wrist stopping you. 

“Last night, when I told you you’r-” You shook your head. 

“No, stop. I’m going to pack a bag and stay with Minho and Jisung for now. As soon as I have arrangements made I’ll let you know and be back for my things, I’ll try to be quick.” Tears were streaking Chan’s face now as well as your own. You pulled your wrist free and did just as you said you were, you went to your room and packed clothes and toiletries to take with you to Minho and Jisung’s. On your way out you crossed through the living room and Chan was sitting in the same spot, still with tears running down his cheeks. You walked over and when you knelt in front of him he looked over at you, his eyes glassy with tears. You pushed his damp curls back, and he sniffled, you softly kissed his cheek and then stood and left. Chan broke down crying when he heard the door click closed behind you. 

When you got to Jisung and Minho’s place the first thing you did was fall into Jisung’s embrace and cry uncontrollably. You had been strong through the whole thing and now you didn’t have to be so you cried. Jisung sat on the couch with you and let you while Minho made some tea for you all. After a good cry and some tea you got unpacked in the guest room. You all were settled in the living room watching tv after dinner when there was a knock at the door. Minho and Jisung, one on each side of you, looked at each other. Neither were expecting anyone but both knew exactly who it was, you did too. Minho got up to answer the door. 

“Min...” You called him. He turned and saw your eyes, big and worried. He held up a finger nodding and turned to go answer the door. When he opened it unsurprisingly Chan was standing there. 

“I need to talk to y/n.” Chan tried to walk in and Minho blocked him. 

“You need to give it some time Chan there’s more to this for her than you realize.” Chan pressed his lips together tightly; he knew what was at stake and he wasn’t going to lose you without a fight.  

“Minho, I need to talk to her let me through.” Minho shook his head. 

“Chan-” 

“She needs to come home!” Chan said loudly. 

“y/n please come home!” He shouted into the apartment 

“Please! Just stay with me!” Minho pushed Chan out of the doorway and walked into the hall with him pulling the door closed behind him. 

“What the hell are you doing man? Are you hearing me? There’s more to this than you think!” Chan pushed back against Minho. 

“I’m in love with her! She needs to come home, she needs to be home with me! So I can apologize, so I can cook her favorite dinner and grab that lemon lime sorbet that she loves at the corner store, so I can hold her and kiss her and tell her everything I should have long before now.” Chan shouted, huge tears in his eyes. Minho was stunned. Once he had his wits about him again he shook his head. 

“All that aside Chan. It’s not the time for this. Just... give her some time.” He spoke softly, Minho didn’t want to have to hurt his friend and turn him away but he couldn’t hurt you either. Chan nodded, turned, and left without another word, he understood. When Minho walked back into the apartment you were standing at the opening of the foyer wide eyes filled with tears. 

“Mi-Minho... did... Chan... did he just...”  

“Say that he loved you?” You nodded and a tear fell. 

“Yea, he did.” You took a deep shuddering breath and braced yourself against the wall. 

“He looked awful. It’s only been part of a day but he looked like absolute hell not having you home.” You nodded, staring off as your thoughts spun a million miles an hour in your head. Chan loved you? Like you loved him? It was impossible. You didn’t know what to do. You were so confused. You had so many questions. You finally looked up at Minho. 

“Wha- should I go home? What do I do?” Minho shrugged. 

“Do you love him still?”  

“I’ll always love him.” Minho raised his brow at you knowingly. It was late but you didn’t care. You ran to the guest room, threw on some jeans and your tennis shoes and started towards you and Chan’s apartment. When you got there you unlocked the door quietly and tip-toed in so you didn’t make any noise in case Chan was already asleep. You walked into the living room and Chan was on the couch. His head was tilted back resting on the back of the couch and his arm was thrown over his eyes. You weren’t sure if he was sleeping or not. You made your way over and stood in front of him. When Chan felt someone standing near him he jumped before he realized it was you. He relaxed and sat there looking up at you with big brown glassy eyes. 

“y/n?” You nodded trying to fight back your own tears already. He didn’t say anything he just sat up and wrapped his arms around your midsection and hugged you, his head resting on your soft tummy. You hugged him, your fingers resting in his curls. He leaned back and looked up at you and you pushed his curls back away from his face. 

“I’m so sorry y/n, I should’ve never said that to you it wasn’t right and I...” You shook your head. 

“We have a lot to talk about and we will, I just have one question right now.” Chan nodded, his eyes piercing into yours. 

“Are you in love with me?” Chan shook his head up and down without a second of hesitation. He did, he knew. 

“Say it.” He sat up straight and looked at you, into you. 

“I’m in love with you y/n. I love you. I love you so m-” You leaned down and kissed him softly. He cupped your face and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. You broke away to take a breath and Chan pressed his forehead against yours, his hands resting on your wide hips, guiding you to kneel and rest on his lap, a thick thigh resting on either side of Chan’s strong legs. His hands slid down your thighs and squeezed even through the material it sent a shiver up your spine. You steadied yourself by holding on to Chan’s broad shoulders. Those same strong hands squeezing your thighs came up and held your face so softly, his thumb grazing the apple of your cheek. Tears started to well up in your eyes, Chan gently shook his head and pulled you in to kiss you again, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth softly. You opened your mouth allowing him to slide his tongue inside. Chan wrapped his arms around you and pulled you all the way down onto his lap and you could feel him pressing into you making you throb with want as he devoured your lips. His hands ghosted down your back and rested on your hips urging you to move against him and you moaned into the kiss. 

“Sound... so pretty... baby girl.” He mumbled as he kissed down your neck. You could feel yourself getting wetter hearing the sweet pet name. You tilted your head giving him better access to his target. 

“Ch-Chan... wha-what are we... doing?” You panted as your hips ground together, as his hands gripped, and his lips explored. He pulled away when you asked, he was a little red and breathless chewing at his bottom lip. 

“Uh wha... what do you want?” You looked at him and pushed his curls back away from his beautiful face again. 

“You.” He smiled and touched your face. 

“Then... I’m yours.” You kissed him hard then scrambled to get up and get your jeans and panties off. As soon as Chan realized what you were doing he lifted his hips and pulled his shorts and briefs down to his ankles. You quickly climbed back onto his lap, there was no time to be shy or bashful as Chan lined up his cock with your wet hole and eased you down on to him. You both moaned and you gasped when you were fully seated in Chan’s lap again, only this time with his dick buried deep inside you. 

“Oh god!” Chan held onto your hips, his lip between his teeth, eyes closed tightly as he felt you squeeze his length with your warm soft walls. When he finally opened his eyes he saw you looking down at him, your eyes sparkling. You pulled at the hem of his shirt and took it off over his head running your hands up and down his firm torso over his chest and abs and back up again. Chan sat up his cock moving inside you deliciously making you squirm as his hands traveled up your plush body lifting your shirt up and over your head, your full breasts lined up with his face, he sucked on one and then the other, squeezing and pushing them together then raking his teeth across your hard nipples. 

“Ch-Chan... please...” He let go of your breasts and his hands slid down your curvy frame and rested on your ass. He leaned back on the couch then squeezed and pulled your hips forward and then pushed them back as he rolled his hips up into you. 

“Like that baby girl... ride it just like that.” You planted your hands low on his abs and pushed your hips forward and then back again on your own. You moved again and again and set a rhythm. Chan’s head rolled back and his eyes closed. 

“Does it feel good?” You needed to know you he was enjoying it, you wanted to make him feel good. Chan looked at you blushing and smiling as you rode his cock. 

“Mhmm yes, you feel so good baby, don’t stop.” He squeezed your thick ass and urged you to move faster. Your breaths shortened as your hips moved quicker. 

“G-gonna cum... Ch-Chan go-gonna cu-” Your eyes rolled back into your head as you wrapped your arms around Chan’s head hugging him tight, his face buried in your big tits again. Chan could feel you dripping down his cock as you came on top of him, your hips stuttering and Chan helped you ride it out as he rolled his hips up into you harder. When you finally let go of him Chan slumped back on the couch again, held up your hips forcing you forward making you brace onto the back of the couch and with his strong hands holding you up he started pounding into you from underneath not only chasing his own high but sending you nosediving into another orgasm. More of your arousal dripped down his cock and there was a lewd smacking sound every time Chan hammered his dick into your wet cunt. He put you down and sat back up pulling you close as your cunt took his whole cock. It was messy grinding and rubbing and wet and as you shook and trembled through your third orgasm. Chan pulled you closer still, he held you tight and came deep inside you as he cupped your face and sweetly kissed your lips. You sat there sweaty and out of breath on Chan’s lap your head resting on one of his shoulders, his arms wrapped around you as his cock softened inside you. When you caught your breath and the adrenalin wore down the gravity of what just happened hit you like a train and you started to cry. Chan pulled you up and held your face worried. 

“Hey hey, what’s wrong huh? Baby don’t cry.” Hearing him call you by the sweet pet name only made you cry harder. He hugged you close again and grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around you. He rubbed your back and held you until you were calm again. 

“Sorry it was just a lot of big feelings all at once and I got a little overwhelmed.” Chan shook his head as he continued tracing shapes on your back to soothe you. 

“Don’t be sorry I understand. Are you okay now?” You nodded and sat up and Chan smiled at you his dimples popping up. 

“Good. Why don’t we wash up and get to bed. We’ll talk about everything first thing tomorrow, including you moving out of your room. You were confused and frowned a little. 

“You... you still think I should?” Chan nodded. 

“Absolutlely. My room is bigger so it just makes sense for you to move into mine over me moving into yours.” You let out a huge sigh of relief and shoved him a little. He hugged you close and kissed your neck. 

“I love you baby girl.” You melted into his hug. 

“I love you too Chan.” 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[threepandas]

Bird4Bird Part 4: Yandere Hawks

The part of his mind that was his PR mask wanted to whine. Boooooring~! Blah, blah, blah. Do THIS Hawks, you did THAT wrong Hawks, we're never HAPPY Hawks! Whine, whine, bitching and moaning and whine! Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. I'll do better, Sir.

Handlers.

Handlers were the WORST.

They nitpick. Micromanage like it gets them off. And worst of all? Are perpetually BITTER they couldn't make it as Heros themselves. Always thought that THEY could have done better. They couldn't. They're WEAK.

Self serving, corrupt, hateful. He has yet to meet a single one that actually would survive a week as even a mediocre hero. Yet here they are. Controlling them. Pulling the strings. Handlers are a disease. At least his managers back at the office could DO THEIR JOBS.

How long has he been forced to stand here? An hour? Two?

Lives he could have been saving. Crimes he could have been stopping. Work that could have been done. All wasted on an idiot's power trip. He wonders... how's he gonna get rid of this one? Crossfire of a villian attack? Car accident? Mugging gone wrong? Can't reuse any of the previous methods...

Ah. Done whining? Great! Same time next week then? Bye~☆

He leaves before the asshole can respond. Not bothering to get out of the way, as he walks dead center down the hall. Let other's move. He's had an entire childhood of being expected to accommodate in this place. Being FORCED to accommodate. He's more then a little sick of it.

You move.

And really, he was having SUCH a nice day, too! He got to see his lil predator~♡. All sweaty and straining in gym clothes! Muscles on display like a glorious Amazonian statue come to life. Those thigh could crush skulls! Those arms could probably flip cars! Granted, she'd need leverage, but STILL~♡

He let's his pleasant fantasies calm him down a bit. His Grumpy Lil Harpy a highlight to look forward too. He has them from time to time. Little fixations. He wonders how long this one will last? Hopefully a while. She's so CUTE~! Growly and vaguely murderous. Yet soft and kind too. ALL sorts of different sides to explore!

He stops, disrupting foot traffic.

The HPSC has a records office... and he DEFINITELY has access to it. He knows EXACTLY where it is. He glances as the hallway to his left. Towards the sweet freedom of Not Here and Fuck These Guys. Then back towards the right. Towards the RECORDS.

Is it even a question?

They obviously try to STOP him, of course. Personal records are SUPPOSED to be confidential. Legally they HAVE to be kept sealed unless ordered open by a judge for a SPECIFIC investigation. And can only be used FOR that investigation. Doesn't stop the upper ranks, obviously, but he? Is being WAY too out in the open about it.

Sucks for them.

Maybe this'll force them to make it harder to access records they shouldn't be accessing.

Oooooooh~ NAUGHTY Girl! Assault charges! Kidnapping? Ah, refused to give an abused child back to their abuser. Gave them to their father instead. Look at these, Look At THESE~♡! Borderline vigilante charges across the BOARD! It's a miracle his lil predator's temper hasn't gotten them into trouble they couldn't talk their way out of yet~

He steals a full copy of her files. He WANTS it. The picture they have though... it's awful. He could get a better one. He should. He knows a lot of photographers. Bet he could get her into something FLATTERING for once. Pretty, pretty, lil monster~♡ So much DAMAGE! And the medical records?

It sends a bloom of something unblinking and breathless through his brain. Warm and INTERESTED through his blood. Such sharp, SHARP talons she could have, when she doesn't file them down. Estimated maximum carry weight is WHAT? And ooooh~ the BITE strength! A picture of those pretty little FANGS~!!!

He manages... barely... to pull himself together. Has to readjust himself in his pants. Calm down. Calm. Down. Breathe through it. He shudders, mind desperate to drift back to the file in his hands. But he's very, VERY good at compartmentalizing. It can WAIT.

Wait until he's back in his apartment. When he's ALONE. THEN he can enjoy it. Self control, Hawks. They'll take it away from you. Remember your shrine. Calm. He has to be calm.

He tucks the file away. Slaps a PR mask on his face. And leaves the Records. Deletes the recordings of him ever being in there, as he passes the desk. No one thinks to stop him. Why would they? He's their caged bird. Their loyal pet. He would NEVER steal from THEM. They are the ones who take.

But now he has her file. A partial, Goverment, history. He could probably get the rest. He knows EXACTLY what buildings they're stored in. He's even allowed in them, TRUSTED in them. No one would blink twice. He should. Can they really be trusted? With such lax security? Such corruption? He'd basically be protecting them. Keeping them out of villian hands. It's basicly his DUTY isn't it? As a hero?

Yeah. He should go get them... AFTER he's done reading these ones. Landing on his balcony, shucking his uniform haphazardly, he let the file drop and spill gloriously across the floor before him. Let his eyes dart from word to picture to graph. Not even bothering to close the sliding door behind him, fumbling with his pants, the second he has access, his hands desperately slide down to pleasure himself.

His legs fold. He doesn't bother to brace against it. Let's gravity bring him closer to the coldly clinical records of his current obsession. Strong. So STRONG. Deadly, beautiful, things. Fangs and talons and pictures of eyes that stare right through him. His hands almost HURT, as he desperately strokes. Rubs and teases.

Need it, need it, NEED IT-!

Feels little like dying. Like he was tazed. Everything locking up and jerking, helplessly. So good it's awful, destroying him in how bad he needs it. He wants to cuddle. Wants to pin. Wants to see his pretty little harpy bird all tied up and helpless, so he can flop down on top of her and croon~♡

She'd be so CUTE. He muses, boneless, face pressed to the floor. Sprawled out surround by pictures and pages of HER. So, SO Cute. He's staring at the picture of her hand.. her talons. He'll have to plan around those. But in the mean time? He lets himself drift. Fantasize. A predators smile stretches across his face.

He hopes she stays interesting.

He wants to keep hunting her for a long, long time.

[milkcanned]

Hiii, love to see a wlw writer ♡

Could you write some nsfw with Kalifa and a femreader who also works for Cp9? Maybe she infiltrated as a waiter at the same place as Blueno? I just really love Kalifa

one way or another

kalifa finds you off the clock, and though fraternizing isn't permitted among fellow cp9 members, this doesn't count, right?

ft. kalifa x afab!f!reader

thigh riding/grinding, dom!kalifa, sub!reader

word count: 700

a.n: gosh i love her. nami was right wishing for her as a secretary. i need a mature woman like her

You rush around flocks of drunken men as you head to the kitchen to serve mediocre bar food table by table. Really, you didn't know how you found yourself infiltrating as a damn waitress. Frankly, you were jealous of your fellow peers who were able to snag jobs at Galley La. Blueno's decent company, but you don't have much in common with him.

You have trays in both of your hands as you weave around drunks to your next table. You begin to set the tray down and dish out the food & drinks when you're bumped into, spilling drinks all over your uniform. A drunk man around your age grasps your waist to stabilize you, before asking, "You okay, sweetheart?" You grimace and bark out a "Yeah", pushing away from him to the break room. You untie your apron and huff out to Blueno, "I'm clocking out!" Entering the room to change out of your uniform, you once again bump into someone. "Oh, for God's—"

"Hello."

You shuffle back a little to give a genuine, tired smile at Kalifa, someone you found yourself accompanying quite often in your free time. Being the only women in CP9, the two of you were tight knit. Kalifa adjusts her glasses and observes your disheveled form. "You look horrible." She blurts, blunt as ever. You sigh, sitting on a bench. "Yeah, stupid guy out there bumped into me and had the gall to call me sweetheart." She frowns at this, adjusting her glasses once more. "That's sexual harassment." she states in a matter-of-fact tone. You hum in acknowledgment, but nothing else.

"I'll help you out of that." She advances towards you, glancing at your stained uniform. "Oh really that's—" You start, but she's already making quick work of getting your shirt off. Bold as ever. You slip off your skirt and glance up at her, but you find yourself looking at her unreadable expression. You really could never read Kalifa. Your relationship was strictly friendly, but her lingering touches confused you. You part your lips to say something and she narrows her eyes and dips her head a bit, tilting her head with a knowing, domineering gaze. You make the first move, pressing into her soft lips, taking in her cherry lipgloss.

She wraps a hand around your head and deepens the kiss, fogging up her glasses a little. You mewl into the kiss, grasping onto her blazer. She breaks the kiss, lipgloss smeared all over yours and her lips. "Let me handle you." She wipes away the residue and reaches for the waistband of your panties. "Please," you breathe out, peppering kisses on her jaw. Slipping your panties off, she leads you to stand in front of her as she sits elegantly on the bench. You climb onto her lap and connect with her lips again, her hands reaching around to unclasp your bra. You move to straddle her stocking covered thigh, quick to bump and grind on it.

She grabs your chin and pulls you away from her to mutter out, "Just like that." She moves her nimble hands to knead your chest as you move back and forth against her, huffing. "Please, Kalifa. Mm'need more." She feigns sympathy and pouts at you. "Need what?" She drawls with that smooth voice, smirking. "Need youuu.." You mutter, growing frustrated against her leg. She hums, bouncing her knee to grant you more friction, moving her hands to scratch down your back. Your clit bumps steadily against her leg, and you feel your climax approaching rapidly as she moves you up and down. "Kahh— Kalifa!" You cry, leaning on her shoulder. "Mm, are you close?" She smiles, licking the shell of your ear. You whimper in response, clenching your legs around her thigh. "Mm'coming!!" You mewl, feeling the dam inside of you break as your pussy throbs around nothing, slickening up her stockings.

She presses a kiss to your temple as you come down, sighing. You look up at her, as if to ask her, 'What now?' She gives you a knowing smile. "As a member of Cipher Pol 9, I must ensure all members are performing at their best." She reassures you.