#and haven't made it into a single one yet??

[lilolebambi]

THE AFTERMATH OF BAMBI!READER'S AND PUPPY!CHRIS'S VOICEMAILS. . .

Chris stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. Days had passed since the voicemails, but still. You guys haven't talked.

He thought time would smooth it over. That things would just click back into place, like they always had. They hadn't.

Chris exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. How does he fix this? Is there a fix?

He wants to text you to reach out—But that wouldn't be right after what both of you admitted in those voicemails... he's honestly not even sure if you listened to them.

He bites his lip, mind zooming to figure out any non shitty way of getting in contact with you.

He shoots up immediately from his bed, planting his feet on the floor.

Cookies.

The ones you always make whenever you guys have a petty argument, the ones you always make whenever Chris says he isn't feeling good or feels sad.

Chris can make cookies.

Chris can't make cookies.

He's tried. So, so many times. And yet, somehow, the universe had decided that flour, sugar, and eggs will never bend to his will.

There's a reason why he's always the one sitting on the counter, watching you get covered in flour, giggling at the streak of batter on your cheek like this is some kind performance meant for him alone.

The last batch of cookies rests abandoned in the trash can—a tragic waste of chocolate chips and his good intentions. He can't how many times he's had to restart the recipe, standing there like a idiot every single time someone comes into the kitchen, rereading the instructions as if they'll magically change, finally start to make sense to him.

He gets it, eventually. When flours all in his hair and caked up on his hands.

He sucks in a deep breath as he rings the doorbell. It's not late, but it's you—You can barely make it through the day without a nap.

Chris's relief is immediate when your groggy figure makes its way to the door. Even more when you open it. "Chris....?" You mumble, rubbing your eye sleepily, blinking him into focus.

He swallows hard, gripping the container in his hands like it might anchor him. Like it might steady him when his heart is anything but.

"Um... I–I made...you cookies."

The words come out uneven, but it's too late for him to take them back. He pushes the container forward, hands clumsy, unsure if you'll actually take it.

Then, softer—more raw—because he can't keep it in anymore. "I miss you. Really bad, Bambi."

Chris can already feel the tears gathering, blurring the edge of his vision. His lip trembles—enough to betray him, make him wish he could it hold together just a second longer.

But then, you smile.

That, familiar, achingly missed smile. The one that used to make everything feel better, the one that still does.

He's done for. Completely, absolutely done for.

You giggle, voice warm with something that Chris has been craving since the silence started. "C'mere you, big baby!

And that's it. The last bit of composure slips from his grip as he moves forward, pulling you close.

He's home.

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her. — Hozier.

a/n: if the lord didn't forgive me, i'd still have my baby and my babe would have me.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @domizmez @drewswife @strnilolover @sirensdollesque @courta13 @trulygentle @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @sugarraez @sweeethrt @moond0llie @ambi-squirrelly @wastelandzella @applecidersturniolo @riasturns @iloveduckssm @oopsiedaisydeer @sturnsflirt @cayleeuhithinknott @h3arts4nat @angelyearner @pink1man @sturnsblogs @mi-co-uk @slvt4subchratt @tezzzzzzzz @chrisbratt333 @izzylovesmatt @chrisowenmuncher

[chrissv4mp]

invisible string theory ᝰ.ᐟ

wind whistles quietly through trees on sidewalks as you pass by them, the leaves rustling gently, loose ones falling to the patch of dirt where it was planted.

billie's beside you, fingers brushing yours every other second but not quite interlacing fully. your steps are in almost in sync, blurring together under the setting sun of los angeles. it's still warm even as the shining star lowers itself under the mountains, enveloping the city in near darkness.

you walk side-by-side in comfortable silence, legs occasionally brushing every now and then when you walk too close—though, neither of you mind. you'd morph into one human being if you could. just to be close to each other.

but something in your stomach twists that you can't name.

her hand snakes around your waist before you even realize it, a small gasp escaping your lips—before you notice that she's guiding you over the grass toward a small playground. not many kids were here at this time of day, probably scared of the dark or the dog that was always lurking around the block. you'd heard some rumor about him "eating someone's face off."

once billie situates herself on a park bench, you lower yourself onto the empty spot next to her. there's a small gap between your legs, the wood of the bench visible—and it feels so close yet so far.

but the distance was gonna be so much longer in just a couple of weeks, when billie kicks off the next leg of her tour. every time she left it felt more and more heartbreaking. the feeling of her lips on your forehead right before she left for the airport made your stomach twist, a frown forming on your lips that seemed to never go away until she came back.

but she's always made sure to call you—every morning, every night, even in the middle of the day while she was exploring the city sometimes—and that made you feel a little better. still, the space between you two always felt too much to bare. to you, at least.

you wondered if she felt that way too.

"...so, i have a question," you murmur suddenly, turning your head to look over.

billie glances over a second later. "what's up?"

you kick a rock on the pavement just below where you're sitting, eyes moving away and locking onto the plastic red slide on the playground.

a small smile curls on your lips. "why don't you hold my hand anymore—?"

"oh, here we go again," billie laughs, lips pulling up into an amused smile as she throws her hands up in fake exasperation.

you shake your head, talking over her as she complains. "no, i'm serious—i'm so serious."

billie meets your eyes again, pausing for a moment and tilting her head, hands resting in the pockets of her shorts. she nods over at you. "alright, okay—okay, continue, c'mon."

"i haven't held your hand in, like—" you start, but billie mocks you halfway through your sentence, tone high in a way to match yours.

you push her shoulder softly, knocking her a little off balance and nearly making her fall—the two of you fall into a mess of laughter for a few minutes. you try to seem serious after a moment, though your smile won't go away.

"dude, shut up—you're not funny," you say, punching her shoulder playfully. "i swear, you're not funny."

she clears her throat. "my fault. okay, i'm done, i'm done."

"m'kay," you murmur. "let me think."

billie tsks, shaking her head. she moves to grab her phone from her pocket, checking the time. "'bouta set a timer."

your mind wanders, trying to remember the last time she held your hand for more than just a minute—which was every single time. including yesterday, at the grocery store.

it was friday, so you knew it'd be busy—but not that busy. every time you moved, you bumped into someone, or someone's arm brushed yours. billie picked up on your discomfort upon seeing the way you practically clung to the shopping cart like it was your lifeline.

her hand had wrapped around your waist at first, then realized she didn't like the feeling of people brushing up against her either—so, her hand found yours, and it felt like you could finally breathe normally.

you hum. "it could—mm, it could've been yesterday."

"okay, yesterday, wow," she gasps fakely, mirroring your exaggeration from earlier. "i'm—i'm glad you remember that. really, i'm glad that—"

"yeah, thank you," you say, tone having that playful finality in it that it always had when you two were arguing over small things like this.

billie rolls her eyes, but she's not annoyed. far from it. she's just happy to be in your presence, even if it's not in the quiet, secluded safety of your home—she favored moments like this more than anything in the world. the stupid debates. the dumb rough-housing. the even dumber attempts at trying to fact-check the other knowing damn well both of you were wrong.

"alright, alright, i—i got a question for you now," billie states, eyes drifting back to yours, smile fading a bit.

you nod. "okay."

"why do you think we met?" she asks, tone still amused. but there's hint of seriousness it in. like she's genuine. "yeah, answer me that."

a nearby streetlamp illuminates the side of billie's face, the curve of her nose, the pretty color of her plump lips. it may seem like a hard question to most, but you didn't need time to think. you just wanted the words to linger a while.

wanted billie to think of—maybe predict—your answer before you even spoke. the look on her face never changed. that curious, amused look where her eyebrows were knit together just slightly, eyes narrowed.

"well, i think, personally—" you cut yourself off, pausing for a moment before turning to face her fully. then adding,

"have you ever heard of the invisible string theory?"

she looks puzzled for a moment—and you see the exact moment the memory clicks in her head. you'd told her about it a few years back, after the first year anniversary of your relationship. you hadn't expected her to remember, it was just a thought that came to you after you snuck off at an after party together and went to stargaze at a nearby park. similar to the one you were at now.

"oh, yeah," she nods. "yeah—yeah, you told me about it."

"mhm. so, basically, we met because we were supposed to meet," you say.

billie nods, interested.

you take a breath before continuing. "and, and we're connected because... we're supposed to be connected, y'know?"

"okay," billie says through a quiet chuckle.

"it's kinda like that, "i loved you before i existed, and i'll love you even when i die"," you add, then your voice goes quiet. the silence isn't tense or uncomfortable, it feels rather safe, the space filled with understanding.

she smiles after a moment, fingers creeping up your thigh, hand resting there warmly. "okay. guess i shouldn't have doubted my smart girl,"

"exactly," you tease.

"but, yes, like," you struggle for a moment before finding your words. "it's crazy, it's scary—it's, it's unpredictable."

billie nods again, eyes on your lap—her hand, in specific. your own hand comes down, fingers sneaking under her hand then locking between hers. you see her cheeks heat up, a light pink washing over her face.

"so don't leave me."

a beat. then billie looks up. eyes soft.

"please."

she huffs a laugh, nods. "yup, you got it."

"alright, alright." you giggle softly. but your heart's beating 10x harder than it was before, pounding against your chest nervously.

that comfortable silence envelopes everything again. the rustle of the trees is gone now, though the buzz of the light overhead replaces it. the playground is still, the woodchips dull, unmoving. billie's hand in yours, soft. warm.

"i love you," you say, voice not quiet nor loud.

the silence that comes after that is anything but comfortable. billie doesn't say anything, just sits still, eyes locked on your lap like a robot. it feels weird now—tense. but you're not sure if billie feels that way too.

maybe not. maybe she doesn't feel anything.

not the warmth of your touch. not the meaning behind your words. not the twitching of your fingers. not even the undying love you have for her.

so you try again.

"i love you."

and, this time, she looks up.

but she doesn't say anything. just stares into your eyes. it feels different though. because she's looking at you, but it doesn't even feel like she sees you.

and maybe that's what you've been feeling all along.

invisible.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @partyf4vor @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz

[hlficlibrary]

hello, hope you're alright!

could you make me a fic rec where the main plot is an arranged marriage but like in modern world? not really looking for anything historical or fantasy built world. basically i'm looking for all sorts of fics that look like this one i just read (and highly recommend): https://archiveofourown.org/works/66126469

my main interest is reading this more practical (some might argue not really as romantic but there's still undeniable chemistry that just happen to work in a more straight forward way i guess?) dynamic between them.

it's fine if this is too specific, i'll take whatever you can find, thank you 🤍

Hi, anon! You're very welcome! I haven't read that fic yet, but I always try to read every Big Bang fic. So I'll be getting to that one eventually! Glad to hear it's so highly recommended! I'm excited to read it! I'll include it here so others can check it out, too! And then I'll list a few others that I think fit what you're looking for...

Finding Pieces We Can Fit by larryftnoctrl / @the-larry-way

At 32 years of age, Louis admits defeat in the search for a life partner. His mother introduces him to a similarly disillusioned but still hopelessly romantic Harry. These two forces collide and collude in the best and worst of ways, determined to make things work.

Miso cannot be bothered by their shenanigans. She can see the writing on the wall.

Teenage Rebellion Never Worked Out So Well by panda_bear21

“I’m an adult!” He glanced down at Harry, who seemed anything but at the moment, where he was definitely on the brink of a temper tantrum. “We’re both adults!” Jay glanced to Anne again, before breathing out a heavy sigh. “Yes, but you’re both adults that do not have jobs and who live off of our money… Which means, you have to do what we say… or you’ll have to find a new place to live.” “You wouldn’t do that.” Louis dared, hoping his glare was enough to guilt trip his mother into calling the whole thing off. Or to tell them that it had all just been a huge joke and they weren’t actually being forced into marrying a complete stranger. “Oh, but we would.”

Or the super cliché arranged marriage fic where things escalate way too quickly.

white winged dove by birani

Louis isn't expecting it when his parents drag him back to the life of aristocracy that he had left behind three years ago. Pressured to marry in order to save his family from financial and social ruin, Louis finds himself caught between wanting to be selfish and doing what he needs to do for the sake of his sisters, if no one else.

Befriending Prince Harry of Wales was not part of that plan, and neither was joining him in an elaborate ruse to fool the country and more importantly, their parents.

Marrying him had not been a part of the plan at all.

What If We Rewrite The Stars, Say You Were Made To Be Mine by moonchild_1611

“Sunshine, you’ll never know how much I regret that every single day, how much I hate myself for being a chicken.”

“You are a very cute chicken, please don’t hate yourself”, Harry closes his eyes, smiling through the tears.

Louis lets out a wet laugh, holding his face and resting his forehead on Harry’s, “What do I do with you?”

“Keep me?”

“Forever.”

An arranged marriage AU<3 Harry once believed love would be burning red, but it's golden.

Not sure if omegaverse is what you're after, but I had to include this one as well...

Here's Your Perfect by @brightgolden

All finesse tossed aside, Harry yanks the envelope from Miss Eden’s hand. He hears her laugh, bright and cheerful as he tears into the envelope. His eyes skipping over the complimentary paragraph congratulating him for being assigned, settling into the centre of the letter - the name of his future mate.

And suddenly, Harry feels there isn’t enough air in this world for him to inhale as he recites the name in his mind. Louis Tomlinson.

OR

In the world where mates are assigned to everyone and deposited to their door when an agreeable partner is found for them, Alpha Louis has recently been given his. However, he is nothing like the type of alpha that the omega academy prepares Harry for.

[louismygf]

just recently watched this is us with my college friends

[bluetimeombre]

۶ৎ Mess of a man.

| Joel didn’t know why he’d let his little brother convince him a night at the bar was what he needed. But he might need to listen to him more. Smut!

[this is pure FILTH. I don’t know what came over me, I need this out my system and I need Joel in mine STAT. If you’re a minor pls don’t interact, this is not a safe space.]

Warnings; language, drinking, age gap (Joel is in his late forties, reader is 21) masturbation reference, daddy, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral (both receiving), over stimulation, come eating?let me know if I’ve missed anything

"Still haven't gotten your dick wet, huh?" was Tommy's way of greeting his brother.

Joel grumbled something, propping his foot on the coffee table in front of him. "Get lost, Tommy."

He'd thought that with his daughter, Sarah, at summer camp he'd get six weeks of peace, get work done, maybe take his daughter somewhere nice when she got back. But he forgot he had a brother and he forgot how annoying he was.

Sure, six weeks without his kid was a perfect and maybe a once-in-a-lifetime to get his dick 'wet' as Tommy put it. But he'd been out the game for years, out of practise. He wouldn't know how or who to approach.

"C'mon, what kind of brother would I be if I let you mope around alone in the house," he said, whacking Joel on the shoulder.

"A good one." Joel took a swing of his beer, watching the sport without knowing what team was doing what.

Tommy turned off the tv and snatched away Joel's beer, getting him up from the sofa. "There's a bar I know where everyone looking to get fucked goes, c'mon."

Joel decided he didn't want to know how his brother knew this place but as Tommy was already grabbing his truck keys and heading out the door. He'd be damned if he let Tommy drive his truck.

Yeah... that was why he was going...

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The bar was already loud when he and Tommy got there and ordered their beers. Joel would have one, maybe another if he was here long enough but then he'd go home and... see to himself if he had to.

It would have been nice to have something for the evening. It had been a long time and his own fist wasn't enough. He had a pick if he needed, he guessed. He wasn't immune to all the single middle aged mom's around him that would talk to him on the school drop off, invite him to one of their garden parties. Even some with rings on their fingers always lingered too long when shaking his hand or asking for some 'construction' advice.

But none of them did anything for him.

Tommy patted his brother on the back as he winked at the lady behind the bar. "See anything you like, yet?"

They'd been there... what? Ten minutes.

Then yes, he saw something he liked and his jaw almost dropped.

Tommy spotted the way he stilled and followed his gaze. "Holy shit."

You were with three girls- your friends, Joel assumed- and a guy hanging onto you, an arm draped around your hips. You were nursing a drink, laughing with your friends, tongue darting out to the straw of your cocktail.

Joel was done. He knew it immediately.

You were only twenty-one, young and beautiful and worse, Sarah's baby-sitter. Sure, his daughter was fourteen but on the late nights he had to work he didn't like to leave her alone.

Enter you. Good grades, polite, always called him Mr Miller like it wasn't the hottest thing. You stayed every night Joel needed to work, you cooked for Sarah, even ensured there was left overs for Joel and Tommy sometimes.

You'd tidy when he never asked, you never drank the beers he left for you. You were perfect.

And Joel knew, the first day you'd baby-sat his daughter over a year ago he'd made a mistake. He knew it when he watched you walk down his porch, when he started offering you lifts home and wishing you'd accept, when he had a wet dream like a horny teenager and it was you under him.

This was some cruel joke.

As if you could hear his thoughts your eyes caught over the noise of the bar. There was shock registering first and then you were dismissing your group to walk over to the Millers.

Joel gulped when he spotted what you were wearing. A tight high collared shirt, your hair pinned and the shortest skirt with heels.

Like a present to be un-wrapped...

"If it isn't the Miller brothers," you grinned.

"Hey darlin'," Tommy greeted first, reaching up to give you a small hug.

Joel's jaw clenched as you hugged him back. But Tommy was respectful, hands staying high on your body. Better than Joel would do.

You pulled away and smiled at Joel. "Mr Miller."

He nodded, taking a swig of his beer as he watched your tongue dart out in search for the straw. Fuck.

Tommy held a hand on your back. "I gotta take a leak, keep him company would you."

Joel didn't know what kind of game his little brother was playing.

"Of course," you smiled, sliding into the seat Tommy had vacated. "Don't I strive to look after the Millers."

Tommy chuckled and winked at Joel as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Hi there," he drawled.

You smiled. Maybe it was the lighting, or the alcohol, but your eyes were darker than he'd ever noticed. "Hey. Didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"Sarah's at camp," he said. He was painfully aware you knew. You hadn't been around in two weeks because he'd had no reason to ask you. Well, no appropriate reason.

"She enjoying it?" you threw a leg over yours, grazing his leg as you did.

"Think so," he said, "what about you, huh? Enjoyin' your freedom?"

You chuckle. "You know I love working for you, Mr Miller."

"Joel," he corrected you. He took a swing of his beer, watching you watch him.

"Jo-el," you draw out his name.

Something in Joel stirred, his pants couldn't be growing tighter, right? Thank god for the dim lighting.

He cleared his throat. "So this is where the kids hang out these days, huh?"

"I dunno about kids?" you said, leaning your body over slightly. "Am I a kid?"

Joel let his eyes wander down. The expanse of your legs, the skirt riding up your thighs and the way your chest rose and fell with your breath. Then slowly, he trailed back up your body. "I guess not."

Of all those times he'd watched you from the porch, you'd always looked back at him at least once, maybe twice to give a little wave as he leaned on the door. Or when you'd started accepting his lifts home and would always linger in his seat when he turned the engine off, the two of you leaning over the console and chattering a bit longer. Or when it came to staying to watch a game with him when Sarah had gone to bed when he knew you hated sport.

Of all those times he'd never let his mind wander as much as it was not.

"Tommy dragged me out," said Joel, taking more of his beer.

"He dragged you?" you chuckled. "You didn't want to come?"

"I'm glad I did," he said.

You take a longer sip of your drink, nodding. "I'm glad you did too."

Joel watched you a second as you tilted your head, a small tilt to your head. "You wanna another drink?" he asked. He wasn't even sure how much you'd had already. Was all this new look and attitude the cocktails talking?

"I should be good," you muse.

Joel decided in that moment he'd either spend the rest of the night in your company, or go home alone. "Your friends not missing you?" he didn't even want to look back at your friends maybe waiting for you. Or that guy watching you.

You also didn't care to look back. "Let them."

Joel smirked as he brought his bottle to his lips. "Atta girl."

He heard your intake of breath and felt satisfied. Your leg kicked off your other one and had grazed his, going down and down and he was sure you weren't doing this on accident. Not anymore.

"You can't say things like that," you chuckle, shuffling in your seat.

God, your thighs were pressing together tightly. Such a pretty sight...

You leaned over in your seat. "Do you know how many women would kill to hear you say that to them?"

"Well, i'm saying it to you, ain't I?"

You look at him through your lashes and Joel's legs widen to accommodate for the rising need in his crotch. It was wrong. It was so wrong. It was crossing a line. "I think I'll take that drink, if you're still offering?"

Joel nods and waved someone over to get you the same. The two of you talked a little more as you waited, your drink sliding over moments later.

"It must get lonely," you said, fingers dancing around the condensation of the glass. "That house all alone."

It seemed both of you had forgot about Tommy at that point.

The game being played between the two of you suddenly seemed real to Joel. "You tryin' to get an invite over?"

"Maybe."

You didn't miss a beat.

Joel looked at you. People were piling into the bar, music was being played but all he could focus on was you.

Your hand darted out, your fingers grazing his knee.

He looked down at his knee, where you touched him. Could you make out the dent in his jeans. "You know, i'm old enough to be your father."

"So should I start calling you daddy?"

He chocked on his beer. He managed to finish it, smirking to himself. "You got a mouth on you."

"You started it looking at me like that."

Joel rested against the bar. "I'm your employer."

You shrug. "And i'm not at work."

Joel looked around the bar and found his brother making out with a woman at the furthest end. He was sorted. "Why do you hang out here, huh kid?" if what Tommy told him was true he wasn't sure he could handle the idea of you coming here, looking out for someone that wasn't him.

You shrug. "It's a good bar, good drinks, good company usually."

"Usually?" he teased, his hands on his thighs. "You know, Tommy told me some filthy things around this place."

You lick your lips, holding back amusement. "Really?" you stand to your feet, leaning on the bar closer to him. You slot perfectly between his thighs.

His hand danced close to your hip but didn't touch you. Not yet. "People come here for one thing."

"Enlighten me, Joel."

His name from your lips made his brain fuzzy, effecting him more than any beer. But he couldn't do it, god, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Of the counter. Of how good you'd look bent over the counter, tight skirt bunched up at your hips.

But the words failed with him.

It was like you could tell, like you knew every move of his and every twitch.

You take one more sip of your drink before sliding it over the counter.

Joel watched as you got to your feet and worry rose on him. Worry he'd lose all he wanted.

"I'm going around the back, i'm going to be there for two minutes before I call an uber to go home. See you."

You meant it to. He watched you walk off, only briefly waving to your friends as you wove in and out of the people.

You were giving him two minutes to fuck over his life.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You waited, and waited for what you thought was two minutes. Truth be told you didn’t have a watch and lingering around the back of the bar probably wasn’t the greatest idea.

You could tap your foot and wait, rethinking your words and actions and hope that every time the door swung open, it would be your boss.

Joel fucking Miller. What game were you playing? More to the point, what was he doing?

Looking at you like that, carelessly letting his eyes wander as he imagined everything he wanted to do to you? You weren’t immune to his looks, his touches that lasted too long and the way he always watched you walk up to your front door, the engine only roaring once you were safe inside.

But now it seemed- faced with the ultimatum of fucking you or leaving you as nothing but his daughter’s babysitter- he was choosing the latter.

You’d really thought your lonely nights with only toys and fingers for company may have been rectified.

As you push yourself off the wall you really thought-

A sudden strong and rough hand grabbed your wrist and turned you back until you were against the wall and until lips were on yours.

You knew the scent, knew the strength of the body as Joel Miller pressed himself against you, groaning and licking into your lips.

You hands are in his hair, tugging at the curls of black and grey as you let him feel all your body, his arms caging you in and hand dragging down and down and-

"That was three minutes, sweet girl," Joel’s beard scratched your neck as he dragged his lips over your pulse.

You hold back a moan. The music in the bar was loud and the only people coming this way were the ones looking for a quick piss. Still you wanted nobody to stop this. "Wanted to give you a chance."

He nodded into your neck, biting the skin and winning a gasp from you. Joel tilted his head back, searching your gaze that only saw him. "Tell me you want this."

You nod. "I want it."

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb dragging down your bottom lip. He watched, entranced. "You’d let me down anything, wouldn’t you?" He whispered, looking as if he wasn’t all there. That some part of his mind was already fucking you against the wall.

You lower your head until you can reach the pad of his thumb, kissing the tip. "I want it."

"Oh, fuck baby," he groaned, pushing the pad of his thumb further into your mouth. Promises of things to come. "You’re gonna kill me sweet girl."

Your hand ran down his stomach until it meant the tightness of his pants and running up and down until you could feel the press of his length in your palm.

Joel indulged for a minute. His thumb in the warmth of his mouth while your other hand rubbed him right. Then he snapped back into reality as the door banged on the wall.

Not there.

Against himself, he took his thumb from you and grabbed your wrist, alerting you.

"I need your word that if we do this, Sarah doesn’t find out," he said sternly.

You chuckled. "Well I’m hardly gonna tell her I screwed her dad, am I?"

"Hey," he held one finger in front of your face, defying your smirk. "Your word, little miss, or I can drop you off home and you can watch while I take care of the problem you created."

You gulped. Maybe for a moment you forgot it was Mr Miller you were affronted with. Quickly, you nodded your head.

"Good girl," he surged forward and sucked on the bottom of your lip, his hips digging into yours. He groaned as you ground on him, nails digging into his biceps. "Feel wha’ you do to me, huh? You know how many times I’ve had to fuck my own fist and think of you?"

You practically melt at his words, leaning back into the wall. "Joel… please."

"Please what? Huh?" he taunted, rutting his clothed hips into your own, biting down on his lip as you threw your head back, moaning at the sensation. "C'mon, tell me what you want. Be a good girl and say it."

"I want you to fuck me," you whispered.

Joel scoffed. He left his hips against yours. He tutted. "I'm an old man, darlin', you're gonna have to speak up."

"Fuck me!" you all but screamed, desperation turning you into a mess.

Joel grabbed your hand and started to drag you from the alleyway, searching around as if his daughter might pop up out of nowhere.

You couldn't care less, didn't think about the group of friends you were leaving, or the guy that wanted you. Your hand circled over Joel's stomached t shirt, nails scratching as you leant into his side, lips marking up his neck.

"Fuck, baby," Joel groaned as he searched in his pocket for his keys. You joined the search, your fingers searching all around the dent in his jeans. "Fucking desperate, aren't you, huh?"

"Can't wait, Joel," you whisper in his ear, lips brushing, shivers running down his spine as you squeezed his crotch. "Please baby."

Joel grunted. He was practically shaking with the need to fuck you, to feel you against him. To have his hands wander all over you and memorise the way you moaned under him. There was so much more he wanted. Wanted to have you scream, wanted your neck bruised with his love and his back to carry the scratches from you.

He just needed.

"Fuck," he couldn't believe he was being so reckless. Couldn't believe that with a kiss and a grope you had rendered him a horny teenager. "Get in the back, babygirl."

He held open the door and practically pushed you in, climbing over you.

You jumped into his lap as soon as the door slammed shut and Joel chucked his keys somewhere to the front. Your lips worked against his, claiming it as yours and invading an unknown territory. You moaned as his tongue ran against yours and sucked it into his own mouth.

His hands were warm and large as they gripped your ass harshly, a soft slap echoing around his truck.

"You gonna let me slide my fingers into your pussy, baby?" he asked against your lips.

You moaned.

"Hey!" he grabbed your chin, pulling you back to stare at him. Your lips were already red and swollen. "You gotta talk to me baby. You want my fingers? Say yes."

"Yes please," you say, catching your breath. Your chest felt heavy, your pussy throbbing. "Please, want your fingers."

Joel smirked, finger tips brushing under the band of your skirt. "So polite."

The space at the back of his truck was small and cramped but he'd be lying if he hadn't thought about this. Hadn't thought about you in the back of his truck, cock stuffed down your throat or his face buried in your thighs.

All those times he'd taken you back, it had never been as innocent as he would let on.

But having you in his lap, begging for it, practically drooling with just his words, he had a feeling you weren't as innocent as you'd always made out to be.

Joel let the elastic of your skirt slap into place, causing you to jolt into him. As you jolted, he used the leverage of your hips to pull your skirt up and feel under you. "Jesus baby- you're soaked."

His finger slid up the cloth of your panties, collecting the dampness and smearing it.

You gasp as he presses into your pussy, pushing the cloth into you. "Joel please, I asked so nice."

"You did, sweet girl, you did," he nodded, watching as your eyes squeezed shut. "Hey- eyes on me baby, right here." He gently slapped the under part of your chin to get you to look at him as he easily hooked your panties to the side and sunk a finger in.

You hum out a moan, head tilted back.

Joel found the crevice of your neck, dragging his beard against the soft skin and relishing in the red that bloomed. "You like it? You like my fingers inside your heat? God, you're so warm."

"Like it," you nod, eyes shutting again.

Joel groaned low in his throat as he grabbed your chin and forced your forehead against his. "You keep your eyes on me, you understand me. Or i'll drop you off home. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr Miller."

"Oh-" Joel sunk his ring finger in until he was knuckle deep. "You're so good for me."

You tighten around the feel of his fingers. He's barely curling them and already you're squirming at the sound of your own slick.

"Ride my fingers, babygirl, gowan' now."

Obediently you started to move, riding his hand. His rough palm moved with you. His mouth remained open in a small 'o' as you wither against him, moaning.

Joel couldn't help the filth that spilled from his mouth. But with every clench you gave around his fingers, you didn't seem to mind.

"So good for me... such a good girl,"

"Dirty too, riding me in the back of the truck you and Sarah ride in."

"Fuck, i've dreamt of this, you look so good with my fingers stuffed inside of you."

At his encouragement you grip his shoulders, moving faster until your skirt is ridging up your hips and the little wisps of your hair are sticking to your forehead from sweat.

His thumb pressed down on your puffy and begging clit.

"Shit- ah- fuck!"

Joel's hips involuntarily bucked up to yours. "You wanna cum, sweet girl?"

You bite down on your lip, nodding and looking at where his forearm- taunt and veiny- disappeared under you.

Joel rested his head next to yours, kissing the sweat at your neck. "Tough baby, you're so dirty. Dirty girls have to do a lot of waiting till they get their reward."

Slowly, he retracts his fingers.

"Look at all this mess," he tutted, looking at how his fingers glistened with your need. He pats your hips, "up."

You fall onto the seat next to him, legs spread and head resting back on the car door.

You watch as Joel lifts his hips, un-buckling his belt as he starts to pull off his boxers and jeans. Your foot danced over to his lap but he impatiently pushes it away.

"You want to cum, don't you?" he asked, sending you a dark look. His hand grabs your ankle as you nod and kisses the bare skin above your heel. "Then behave."

The hand that you had just been riding wrapped around his cock and brought it out.

Your mouth opened as you stared at the beauty of the thing. He was big, bigger than you'd seen and bigger than you'd dare dreamed. He shone with pre-cum and your arousal as he spread what was on his fingers. His hand worked himself up and down as he relaxed back in his seat.

He looked over at you. "Eyes up here, baby."

Your gaze flicked up to him. "So pretty, Joel."

He chuckled and tugged himself. "Always knew you'd like it. God, you've no idea the things i've dreamt."

"Tell me. Please."

Joel leaned his head back, moving up and down his length slowly as he re-called every filthy dream his mind conjured. "Your hands wrapping around me. Your mouth being so warm and wet as you fuckin' choke on it. God, bet your throat's not used to a man's cock, huh? Only used to boys, ain't that right?"

He opened his eyes, peeking at you.

You'd dared closer to him, leaning over. You nodded.

"Bet that kid in there was hoping you'd give him a chance," he went on, his other hand coming up and thumb and forefinger tugging at your chin. "He didn't stand a chance as soon as you saw me, did he?"

You shake your head, shuffling closer into his side.

He jerked your head toward him. "Answer me."

"Only want you, Joel," you tell him.

You lick your lips, eyes darting from him to his leaking cock. The tip was red, begging for attention. "Can I- Can I please?"

Joel stroked back your hair. "Go on then, baby. Have a play." He stretched his arms along the back of the truck and watched to see you move.

But Joel quickly realised you didn't come around to play.

You'd always seemed so innocent- so un-knowing- when you looked after Sarah, when you helped him clean down the kitchen, when he'd offer you lifts back or to stay over you'd always blush and lower your head.

You were lowering it now, throwing your hair back over your shoulder and holding the base of him.

First, you touch him with your lips lightly and he smiles, daring not to think this might be the only time he lets you touch him like this. Your lips are so pretty and pink, swollen and wet from kissing him as you drag them along the sides.

Then you pepper kisses along the skin and start moving your hand around the base.

"You really gonna tease me?"

"Wanna take my time," you mumble into his though, kissing the skin.

Next, your hand cups his balls that were heavy with need. He wasn't exaggerating, it had been years since his last good fuck and no amount of jerking himself off to the thought of you could satisfy him. As your fingers played with his balls, rolling them around and giving them warmth and attention they craved, you made out with the tip of his cock.

You collected his pre-cum with your lips and tongue while still fondling him.

He could feel his shirt stick to him, his chest rising and falling quicker. Shittin-fuck. How was he supposed to last if this was what you were giving him?

"Easy, baby, easy," he eased you, stroking back your hair.

He knew you heard cause you were smirking then opening your mouth and taking him deep, almost all the way in one.

Joel groaned and grabbed the door. "Shit-ah-"

He didn't care if he wasn't far from the bar. Didn't care if anyone tried to get a look in through the fogging up windows. He didn't care if Tommy came by and applauded him for getting his dick wet. All he cared for was the feel of your wet mouth all the way down him, spit drooling down his cock.

You were doing so well and he wanted you to know.

"You wanna take me deep, huh?" he grunted, clutching onto your hair and holding you down. You gagged around him. He chuckled. "I'm not even all the way in there. You got room for more?"

You dragged your mouth up, taking a deep breath and nodding. You wiped your mouth from the mess you made and went in again.

This time, you took him again and again, deeper, bobbing him in your throat until he was a grunting and groaning mess. His hips moved of their own accord, shoving himself in even when there was nowhere else to go.

But the sounds of gagging, of his balls slapping against his own thighs as he moved, of the moans coming out of you were enough to almost having him finishing in your mouth. Almost.

He wanted to, boy did he, but he wouldn't, not until your cunt had swallowed him.

Joel pulled you up, letting you release him with a pop. "Want to be inside, need to be inside."

The truck wasn't the best place but it was the only place he had for you. He wished he could give you a bed, give your hours to welcome him, but Joel needed like he'd never needed. He imagined this is what starvation was, having your treat dangled in front of you.

And you were moving with him, lying down on the back seats, legs accommodating him as he slid in between you.

Joel gently pulled down your panties and stuffed them in the back of his pocket. If he was gonna have to jerk himself off to thoughts of you again, having your soaked panties was the least he deserved.

He glanced down at your swollen pussy and salivated.

Your hand trailed down, circling your clit as you moaned at the time he was taking.

Joel grabbed your wrist, bringing it up to his mouth and nipped at the skin. "Only I get to touch, yeah, babygirl?"

"Yes," you answered, breathless.

Joel loomed over you, bringing the tip of his leaking cock to smear himself over your folds. "Tommy told me somethin' real interestin'. Ask me what?"

"I don't- I don't care about Tommy, right now," you grab his shoulders, trying to pull him forward.

"He tol' me-" Joel strained, his lips brushing yours. It wasn't just your torture he wad delivering. It was his own. "He said people go to that bar to get fucked. Is that why you were there?"

For a moment you seemed shocked to hear it. Then the palm of your hand held his cheek, running over the stubble.

"Worked, didn't it?" you teased.

Joel sunk into you with ease. "Yeah."

He hid his face in your neck as you arched your back into him. 'Take it, take it,' he spoke into your skin, tattooing the words there.

"Joel-" you gasped, holding onto his back. "Fuck!"

"You're ok, baby. You're ok, babygirl," his breath was short. He needed to feel you more, the half way in wasn't enough. "Fuck, you grip me so well."

You gasp, holding him in you. "Need-need more."

"I dunno baby, you think you got it?" he teased.

"Yes, yes."

"What have I said about speaking up?"

You groan, throwing your head back on the seat. "Fuck me, please Joel!"

With a grunt loud enough to be heard outside, Joel sunk further into you. 'Shit, yeah.... fuck,' spilled from his lips as he slowly took himself out of you before sinking in all the way again.

"You feel me?" asked Joel. He held himself up over you because he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna watch you fall apart on his dick.

"Feel it, feel you everywhere," you mumble.

You really did. You felt the soft seats of his truck, smelt him everywhere. The smell of old cologne, cigarettes (though you were sure he didn't smoke) and new wood. It wasn't just his cock sinking into you but his voice as he mumbled filthy things in your ear. His hand dragged down your face, gripping your neck. Not tight enough to cut airways but tight enough to make you squeeze him.

He stuttered, "sh-shit. If you do that again I won't last," he told you. "And I want you to come first."

"Then fuck me Joel," you said, looking up at him.

Joel looked down to where he disappeared into you. You were already rocking your hips into his, desperate for something- anything. His hand pushed back some of your hair as he stared at you with something more than need. Desire. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Wasn't it? Wasn't it everything you wanted since he first laid a hand on your shoulder and led you into his home, welcoming you to his life. "Yes."

His thumb dragged out your bottom lip before his lips were smashing onto yours, wet and sloppy as his thrusts increased.

He moved his hips in and out rapidly, giving you no more time to adjust. It wasn't long before he had to release your lips to breathe.

"Ah- shit!" you yelled.

"That's it baby, be as loud as you like. Let the whole fucking street know who's fucking you," he panted. His hands were at your neck, holding the both of you steady.

"Joel!"

"Shit! You feel so good!"

Joel tugged down your top, not in the mood to care if it rips. It's not like he was letting you back in that bar. He pulled out your tits and latched onto them like a child, nipping at the nipple.

Your hand winds itself in his hair, pulling at the roots and throwing your body into his. You could feel his cock stretch you, the pain mixing delightfully with the pleasure. With every thrust he tipped you closer and closer onto the ledge and as his warm, wet mouth sucked on your nipple, the other hand squeezing and playing with the other, you knew it would be the best orgasm of your life.

"I'm gonna, arg-"

Joel licked around your nipple. "Not yet."

"Joel!"

"Hold it!"

He pushed himself up, holding onto the back of the seats as he used the position to put a foot on the ground and fuck into you harder.

The windows were steamed, your bodies slick with sweat.

The truck was fucking shaking at how hard he was moving you.

You threw a hand out behind you to hold onto the door, bracing yourself as you rocked your body into his.

Joel threw his head back, his neck stretching you and tempting you. "Best fucking pussy out there. And I've been wasting you as a babysitter."

"Yours," you mumble. He hadn't even asked and you were giving him the promise.

His lips tilted into a lobsided smirk as he leaned closer to you. "You mine, huh? All mine? My girl, my pussy?"

"Yes," you nod.

For a minute you can only hear your breaths with the sound of his hips slapping into yours.

Joel's fingers dig into your thighs and bring your leg up to wrap around his waist. "Mine," he all but growled into your chest, nipping at the skin. "Show me. Show me you're mine. Cum."

He thrusted into you hard, his thumb holding your stomach down and playing with your clit until you were coming all over his cock. 'That's it baby... all over me.... there's a good girl.... keep coming,'

Joel fucked you throughout. He had his own finish to reach but watching you fall apart, your mouth open in a silent gasp as your fingers claw into his shoulders.

He cupped your chin, smiling down at you. "You gonna help an old man out?"

You were in no state to, coming down from your highest high.

Joel cupped your ass and lifted you from the seats that were slowly soaking in both of yours juices. "Ah-" he yelled out at the new angle he was reaching, his balls heavy hitting your pussy. "Yeah- there- just there baby."

"Joel!" you yell. "S'to much."

"No it's not," he shook his head. His eyes were screwed up as sweat rolled down his cheeks. "You can take it. You know you can."

Your pussy was throbbing, squeezing him so intensely you didn't know how he was still moving.

You bit down on your lip as you watched him concentrating hard. You test the waters, wrapping your legs around his waist until your entire lower body was in his weight.

"Fuck!" Joel's jaw clenched as he looked down at you, his fingertips digging into the skin of your soft thighs until he was sure bruises would be there for only him to see. "I'm gonna... shit- Where you want it?"

"Inside, please," you mewl.

Joel looked at you, danger in his eyes. "No, baby, we can't."

You nod and squeeze his hips. "I'm on the pill."

The words were heaven to his ears.

You squeeze around him and Joel yelled out, falling atop you as he spilled out inside of you.

"Take it! Take it! Fucking let me- let me in!" he yelled, hips stuttering as he fell into you. One of your legs remained around him but the other he let drop, holding it weakly.

You were sure you were still coming down from your high as his hips stuttered on yours. You could feel every drop of him smear on your pussy and leak out.

Then Joel's fingers danced around the space his cock was softening in you, pushing it all back in.

His brows rose as he looked down, a shaking laugh coming out. "I-"

You didn't want to hear the words that came after. The regret. The 'we shouldn't have' or 'think about Sarah'. You just wanted this moment of feeling held and cared for by Joel to last a little longer.

Your lips move against his slowly, tasting the salt of sweat from the both of you on there.

He didn't push you away, he just held his lips close to yours, in small and attentive brushes. "How do you feel?" he whispered, pulling back enough to look around your eyes.

"Good," you nod, "real fucking good."

Joel chuckled and looked down. Slowly, as not to hurt you, he pulled out.

You moaned at the sudden emptiness in you, lying there to catch your breath and so you didn't have to prepare for regret in his face.

But it seemed regret was the last thing on Joel's mind.

He had no idea what kind of animal was possessing him or just how far his need went. But when he fell back against the door, listening out to the low drum from the bar, he saw your swollen cunt. Red and white. Red from how hard he'd fucked you and white from the mixture of you and him.

Something growled inside of him- maybe it was him- but before either of you understood what was happening, Joel lunged back in and spread your thigs, diving in.

You lurched up onto your elbows, looking down at him. You could see the top of his hair, his eyes closed and you could feel his nose moving around you and nudging you. "Joel, what are you- holy-"

Joel hummed into your pussy. It was heaven on his tongue, dripping into him. So sweet and all you. He'd never felt closer to a person before. Never felt such a need. He was slobbering like a damn dog over your pussy.

"What the fuck have you done to me, huh," he'd pulled back only enough so you could understand his words.

Neither of you were sure if he was talking to you or what laid between your legs.

He opened up your pussy and went in, tongue fucking into you. He was caught between wanting to push his spill back into you and eating you out till you were dry.

"Joel!" you screamed, voice breaking. "You-you can't-"

"I fucking can," he snarled. His face was being pushed into your cunt as he shook it, smearing both of you all over him.

There was nothing you could say or do before your legs trembled and you came all over his beard and lips. You didn't know what to do, whether to push him off you or pull you closer.

Joel held your hips into his mouth and groaned as he took in everything you gave him.

Every flick of his tongue had you shaking. Every time he gripped your thighs you made a noise of pleasure.

Hours might have passed since he first discovered heaven between your thighs before he pulled himself out.

His face was wet with you. It was sinful and like nothing you could ever imagine. "Look at what you've fucking done to me."

You'd made an absolute mess.

[ysaefinn]

There's overprotective, and there's Suguru Geto.

"Ah- you'll hurt your eyes, baby, let me handle it"

You're just about to start dicing your onion when Suguru comes up from behind you –fully enveloping you in his warmth– and gently rests his palm on the back of your clenched hand before prying the knife away.

"And this" He runs one long finger along the edge of the blade, from heel to tip "is too sharp for you"

..That damn tone.

Suguru only speaks to you this way when he's about to succumb to the voices, the ones that tell him to scoop you up to hold you in his palm forever, to lock you inside his rib cage and keep you warm, to hold you in his arms and never loosen his grip. You know your faith is set when he begins to rub his cheek against yours, a mother lioness and her little cub.

Smothering.

You have reason to believe that Suguru seriously considers baby proofing the house in its entirety.

"Suguru..." Your disappointed expression only gives him more fuel and now he's audibly cooing at you. How precious, the tiny little baby kitten in his palm, pouting so sweetly, how do you have the nerve to go around being so adorable and still act all inconvenienced and fed up when he finally gets his hands on you?

Suguru doesn't think it adds up, so he takes things into his own hands.

"I'll handle the rest, you should take a rest, baby"

He'll handle the rest? Seriously??

"Suguru, I haven't even started anything yet" you whine, and he runs a hand through your hair before pulling you against his chest.

Bastard, he knows what he's doing.

Your world shifted the day Suguru learned that his chest can also double as a tranquilizer.

Like a moth to a flame, ice in a fernace, you melt into him, every single time without fail.

Your tense figure immediately relaxes, the rumbling laughter that runs through his chest feels like a declaration of victory. You know that you have once again lost.

"There you go.." comes an almost taunting coo "isn't this so much better? I like you best this way" And it really, really is, it feels amazing, it feels wonderful being fussed over this much, cared for like this, coddled like a fragile little thing.

"I got here just in time. What if you got hurt, hm? I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if my baby was harmed when I could have been there to stop it" the whispering voice of a siren, how you managed to stand your ground this long is a mystery to you, Suguru is a force to be reckoned with.

So you put up with it, and let him have his fun, let him play the role of the sweet doting overprotective husbans, because like this, everyone wins and everyone is happy, he gets to care for you, you get to be cared for, perfect.

Aren't you both just a match made in heaven?

[simpforboys]

Frat!Rafe teaching his sweet tutor how to kiss before her date…

warnings: kissing, suggestive(?)

"Hold on - you're telling me you've never kissed anyone?"

You nervously shake your head, chewing on your bottom lip.

You've been tutoring Rafe in statistics for about three weeks now. It's been going okay, mostly him flirting with you and you shyly laughing, thinking he's just messing around.

But now that you told the popular frat boy you have a date tonight with some Braden Langford, Rafe is curious to know what else you have or haven't done.

He's laying on your twin xl bed, making himself comfortable in your dorm room. You sit across from him in a crisscross, stats textbook on your lap with papers and a graphing calculator next to your thigh.

"Are you making fun of me?" You mumbled anxiously, starting to pick at your fingernails.

Rafe was the first boy to ever be in your room, technically the only person you've ever had in your room since you lived in a single and didn't really have other friends.

"No, baby. 'M jus' surprised," he murmured in disbelief.

It's quiet for a moment before he speaks up, something off in his alluring blue eyes. "Ya said you're goin' on a date t'night?"

You nod, doe-y eyes meeting his.

"He might try t'kiss ya, y'know," Rafe warns, trying to hide the jealousy building in his chest at the thought of his girl tutor going out with another guy.

You remain silent for a moment, blinking at the tall boy on your small bed. But then before your brain could process it, you were blurting out the request.

"Teach me?"

He looks at you for a moment, completely stunned, but also a small smirk curled onto his lips. You quickly tried to backtrack.

"I jus' mean that you kiss girls a lot and you have sex all the time and I don't know anybody else and --"

"Baby, shhh," he cuts off your rambling, the smirk now bigger.

"I'll teach ya how t'kiss, sweet girl. But y'gotta listen t'everythin' I say, mkay?"

You nod, face hot as he grabs the textbook off of your lap. You were already nervous enough as it is about going on your first date, now Rafe Cameron is going to teach you how to kiss?

"’M gonna put my hands ‘ere, kay?” He tells you softly, big hands moving to hold your hips.

“Eyes. Want those pretty eyes on me, pretty girl.” He commands firmly yet gently, not wanting to startle you.

Your eyes flicker down to his, heart pounding in your chest. Butterflies filled your tummy as you stared at him, subconsciously licking your lips.

He lets out a small hum, leaning in slightly to brush his lips against yours. “Lemme take the lead, yeah? Jus’ follow me.”

He gently presses his lips to yours. You instinctively flinch at the new contact, but eventually your eyes flutter shut as you melt against Rafe.

His hands grip your hips a bit better, helping you onto his lap. He moved his lips with yours, fitting together perfectly as he swiped his tongue over your bottom one.

You gasped into his mouth, causing him to slip his tongue in and slide it perfectly against yours. Your own hands move off of your lap, but stay in the air, not knowing what to do.

He takes your hands and guides them onto his shoulders, pulling back so you can both pant together.

“Good girl, baby… doin’ s’good.” He murmurs breathily, before capturing your swollen lips with his again.

As the kisses went on, you continued to melt against him, your body burning from his addictive nature.

Your hands slid down his chest, fingertips gently squeezing in to feel his pecs as you sat perfectly on his lap and made out with your tutee.

Eventually, though, you had to pull away because your lungs were burning with the need for air.

His eyes flutter open against yours again, staring at each other as he rests his forehead against your own.

“Y’okay?” He asks softly.

You nod, breathless and mind a little fuzzy that your first kiss was that good, the type of good that’s only seen in those romance movies.

“Good.”

[timmydraker]

PART 2 OF CLONE BABY

Bruce: You need to tell the rest of the family, but mostly Dick.

Tim: why...?

Bruce, remembering how mad Dick got when he didn't tell him about Jason or literally any other kid: just trust me, it's not worth it

Tim: but I haven't told Kon yet *biggest pouty face ever made*

Bruce: Tim, he's still dead... isn't he?

Tim: I mean... for now.

Bruce:

Tim: FINE. Give her back to me then.

Bruce: ... five more minutes?

*Later:*

Dick: Hey guys, what was so important I had to get here so quick? Is everyone okay? Did someone... y'know?

Bruce: Opposite, actually.

Tim: I had a baby

Dick: you fucking what.

Tim: I had baby.

Tim: lil bubba

Tim: I made it myself :)

Tim, holding up his baby girl: see!

Dick, rapidly going through several emotions at once before letting out such a high pitched squeal that Clark Kent breaks a mug out of shock: A BABY!!!

Tim: a baby!

Bruce: a baby...

Damian, who had come out of his room as soon as he saw that Dick had gotten to the house via his trackers: a baby?

Tim: not for you, go away

Bruce: Tim.

Tim: what? She may have been a scientific miscalculation but she is mine and I will not risk her being stabbed by your miscalculation baby.

Damian: what did you just call me?!

Tim: you heard me!

The baby stirring and whining:

Tim: shhh, it's okay little one. Did Damian's shouting upset you? That's very mean of him, isn't it? It's okay, it's okay

Dick: omg im an uncle

Tim: yes you are!

Dick: and who's the mother?

Tim: 1 am.

Dick: oh... okay, then who's the dad?

Tim, in all seriousness: Kon.

Dick, naturally assuming Kon came back to life like people do all the time: oh, he's back?

Bruce, making a silencing motion:

Tim, trying not to cry: not yet...

Damian: I am confused, why does Drake have a child?

Bruce: he was trying to clone his dead best friend and accidentally mixed his DNA with one of the subjects and made a clone hybrid baby.

Dick: more like dead situationship but okay

Damian: oh, like my brother but an acciden

Bruce: your WHAT?

Tim: yeah! But she's going to grow up like a normal human/kryptonian clone baby and not in like a week.

Damian: very well, I will craft some training weapons for her so she can at least have a chance fitting into this family.

Tim: no the fuck you will not Tim: I mean fudge

Damian: she will also grow up without a father apparently.

Tim: oh like Slade is a better option? And also, so did you???

Damian: beside the point. This baby will be too much like its parents, you are better to let someone else raise her so she won't be a blubbering fool.

Tim: BLUBBERING FOOL?!

Dick: hold on, go back-

Bruce: so l don't have a second blood son?

Damian: and anyway, you can hardly be a n when you practically weren't raised at all, 1 other hand was raised by an exceptional woman-

Damian: and anyway, you can hardly be a mother when you practically weren't raised at all, I on the other hand was raised by an exceptional woman-

Tim: oh HELL no

Tim: first of all, my parents have nothing to do with how I myself will parent! I will be everything in wanted to have and I will not let my baby girl feel unloved for a single second of her life, thank you very much.

Tim: secondly, you're saying that Taliah is a good role model for parenting? When was the last time you spoke to her that didn't involve her using your or Bruce for your granddaddy? Huh?

Damian: ...

Tim: that's what I thought.

Bruce: maybe we should calm-

Tim: and anyway, now that I'm a mother I understand a lot more and I'm not letting you raise my kid because you are a kid, Damian. I know your almost fifteen but that doesn't change the fact that you have Child Developmental Syndrome as well as severe CPTSD and deserve to be carefree and not hold as many responsibilities as some people, *glares at Bruce* seem to think is okay!

Tim: so, no, you can't take my baby but you can be in her life because while I still kind of hate you and think you should suffer for trying to kill me and cutting my line, I can truely see now that you are a baby yourself.

Tim: now, who is going to help me pick out a paint for the nursery l'm making at my apartment?

Damian: ...

Bruce: ...

Dick, who has been slowly inching forward to try hold the baby: ...

Damian, still seething but also a little... honoured?: may I suggest the colour China Rose?

It will go well with the rest of your apartment.

Tim, smiling happily and rocking his baby: good idea!

Tim: Dick, you can hold her while I find Alfred.

Dick: oh thank god, gimme, gimme, gimme, oh hi baby!!! Oh, just look at those chubby wittle cheekies~! Aren't you the most precious wittle thing? Yes you are! You are! Awww!!

Bruce: I forgot to ask, do you have a name?

Tim: oh yeah... that's a thing

Dick and Bruce, integrally: *He is not going to be able to do this alone.*

ーーーーー

QUESTION: what should the baby be called?????

Also wonder how long it will take to end up on

TikTok lol

[differenteagletragedy]

Part Five of Simon Riley x Single Mother <3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

It doesn't take long for a routine to be established. Simon stops by, at least for a little bit, most days. He brings something from the neighborhood bakery by for breakfast, or helps you fix dinner, and naturally there is still the occasional park playdate.

"We need to take it slow," you'd told him that night in the kitchen, when the two of you had kissed until your lips were pink and swollen from his attention. "I don't want Charlie to get confused."

And that was fine by him -- still is. The beauty of it all is that he doesn't just care for you, but for your children, too, and if you think moving slow is best, then that's just what you'll do. He's got all the time in the world.

Except, of course, until he doesn't.

It's been a few weeks of this, and just when he's starting to feel like he could actually be lucky enough for this to be the rest of this life, he gets the call. Another mission, a longer one this time from the outset.

He's got to tell you, and he's got to leave you. The thought tears him up inside. He pictures this beautiful little life he's just started carving out for himself passing by without him, and the darker parts of his mind picture you realizing that maybe you're better off without a man who can only take care of you parttime.

You try your best to ease those notions. You've gotten pretty good at reading him, and you can see the self doubt etched in his face soon after he gives you the news of his impending departure. You give him sweet kisses and hold him, whispering to him about how you'll miss him, and he wants so badly to believe it.

It's Charlie, the night before he's off, that really calms his nerves.

After dinner, Simon sits beside you on the couch while you hold Emma, and he tries to convince himself that when he comes back, things will be just like this. Charlie had run off to his room, and when he comes back, he climbs onto the couch, kneeling beside him with his little hand on his shoulder.

"All right, Charlie?" he asks.

Without a word, the boy reaches out his other hand, and in it he holds a beaded bracelet. Obviously homemade, it's mostly made of black beads, with some yellow and pink ones scattered in with no real pattern.

He glances at you, and you smile at him, so he takes the bracelet, and looks at it closer, not quite understanding the presentation.

"It's nice," he tells Charlie. "You make it?"

Charlie nods. "It's for you."'

Simon is not a crier in the least -- he's experienced all sorts of pain, physical and emotional, spiritual even, without shedding a tear. But this ... he clears his throat, focusing again on the bracelet and not the darling little boy who gave it to him or his beautiful mother who, every day, he grows more and more certain is the love of his life.

"For me?" he finally says, fighting to keep his voice even. "For what?"

"For when you go," Charlie answers. "So you don't forget about us."

There are no words to describe how outrageous he thinks the idea is, so instead he presses on.

"You pick the colors?"

"Yeah," Charlie answers, leaning over to poke at the bracelet. "Black because that's your favorite color, yellow because it's my favorite color and pink because Mum and Emma are girls."

Simon nods, and slips the bracelet on. He thanks the child, who wraps his arms tightly around his neck before climbing off the couch and heading back to his room.

"He loves you," you tell him with a smile, and he knows you can see how affected his is by the gift.

"Yeah?" Simon asks. "And what about his mum?"

You lean in, carefully as to not disturb the baby, and he meets you the rest of the way. You haven't slept together yet, figuratively or literally, and you've been insistent on taking things slow, but he can't help it. He wants to know where he stands, if you're feeling the same way he is.

Your kiss is soft, and you linger, long enough for him to bring his hand to your cheek to hold you in place just a little longer. When you pull back, you give him another small smile.

"His mother happens to be extremely fond of you."

Simon ends up being gone just shy of two months, and it's miserable, being away from you for so long. He keeps the bracelet safe in a pocket on his vest, toying with it in his downtime. It feels like a tether, something that keeps him focused. Something that will pull him home.

When he does get back to town, he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks out of the train station. He plans to drop his things off at his apartment before giving you a call, seeing if you're free, but when he gets to the juncture where he can either continue on towards his building or turn and trek the few extra blocks to your house, it's barely a decision he registers.

He's heading towards you.

There's a brief moment of hesitation after he unlatches the gate and climbs up the steps of your porch. Doubts creep in -- thoughts that tell him that he's been gone for longer than you were together, that you're not expecting him ... maybe that you don't want him anymore.

But Charlie's bracelet, on his wrist now, makes him remember just how good it felt, being a part of your life, and the memory is enough for him to knock.

All the doubts leave him, a rush of wonderful certainty hitting as soon as you open the door, because in your eyes, he sees it -- you missed him too. You take him into your arms, pulling him down to kiss his face, the sound of your happy, surprised laughter like music to his ears, and he's home now. He knows it more than he's ever known anything.

Simon holds you tightly in his arms, kissing you too, his lips landing on your head and your temple, anywhere he can reach, and then there's another, much smaller set of arms around him, and he looks down to see Charlie hugging his legs.

"You came back," he says, his voice muffled.

"Always will."

PART SIX - PART SEVEN - PART EIGHT - PART NINE

[slytherinshua]

୧　SLICE OF CAKE　( 전원우 )

genre fluff , established marriage , husband!wonwoo x wife!reader   cw food mention (cake) , teasing , they're in love and make me feel single , not proofread   wc 490   request @k1eev for wonwoo + arms clasped around one's waist for the 3k event   note man i haven't written for svt in a while but this reminded me how insane i am for wonwoo ever since i wrote fire lord wonwoo. that fic truly changed me and my bias line. i hope you enjoy kie!!!   net @kstrucknet

“Stop trying to run away. Come here.” Wonwoo’s voice was gentle and steady as always, but there was a subtle hint of amusement in his tone that only you would pick up. His words made your body relax almost immediately and a small smile crept on your lips.

“Why should I? You ate the last piece of cake,” you reminded him yet again, as if there was any possibility he would forget the fact with you reminding him every ten minutes the past hour.

“I’d buy you fifty cakes if that’s what you wanted. Just come here,” he told you, holding out his arms, waiting for you to consider the offer. You were only dawdling to tease him. He looked awfully cute with his glasses perched on his nose and his slightly messy hair from his gaming headphones. He hadn’t known you wanted the last piece of cake and had already apologized for it. He knew you were teasing him too, for just last week you had stolen food he had his eyes on as well. 

So you relented, and padded over to him, allowing his arms to find their home on your waist. His touch was firm, portraying his clear intentions. He wasn’t going to let you go until he had his fill. He hugged you close, lips right by your ear.

“Do you want me to buy you another cake?” he asked, and you giggled. He treated you too well.

“No, love. It’s okay. I don’t want another cake— just want you to keep holding me.” 

“Keep holding you? I think I can do that,” he said, smiling wider now. His grip on your tightened ever so slightly, the comforting hug welcome. Feeling Wonwoo so close to you was everything you could ever want, and infinitely better than a slice of cake.

You snaked your arms around his waist as well to mirror the gesture, looking up at him with pure love in your eyes. He looked back down at you with nothing but the same feeling, and another gentle squeeze to your waist told you everything. 

Your husband was a simple man, and it seemed like his only priority in life was to make sure you were happy. He did an excellent job at it, and you reminded him every day just how lucky you felt to have met him, fallen in love, and now be able to spend the rest of your life together. There was no better man you could have found, nor a better match for you than Wonwoo. Your perfect equal, even if he ate the last slice of cake sometimes. 

“How long do you want me to hold you?” he asked after a while. You looked like the last thing you wanted to do is make any moves to remove yourself from his arms.

“Forever.”

“I’m afraid I’m not so confident I can do that. But I can certainly try. Whatever my wife desires.”

svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @cham3li,,

@shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,,

@wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,,

@parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,,

@sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @gong-fourz,,

@nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @starshuas,, @raevyng,, @loserlvrss,,

@lexeees

[chastiefoul]

your bf satoru who always 'just happened' to walk in on you while you're changing.

-

"toru! you could've knocked," you claimed, caught completely off guard. the shirt you just took off still hanging on your arm, leaving you in bra and shorts. the man in question was unfazed, he did not even have the decency to look remorseful in the least.

"baby i told you to invite me when you're putting on a show!" his gaze was shameless, roaming around every inch of your skin like he haven't seen it before. "what show? i'm changing, you silly man," you said rolling your eyes at his usual antics, bending your hips as you slid down the black shorts you were wearing.

satoru groaned at the sight.

"this show baby. with a gorgeous body like yours everything is a show, anywhere is your stage. you're the star," he insisted exaggeratedly, his stare still glued to every moment you made. it was clear that the man was infatuated. you could only shook your head in response, a smile couldn't hold itself in.

you immediately noticed he had come to stand unnecessary close after you grabbed fresh clothes from the wardrobe. his greedy gaze was perplexed, as if he couldn't decide where to settle its stare. then he stopped at your chest, lingering a second too long before resting it there, not even trying to be subtle.

"you're staring, toru," you chuckled, pointing the obvious. "fuck, have i not been clear enough about it? sorry baby i'll try harder." he closed the distance between the two of you with ease, putting an arm around your lower back. the shirt that's in your hold dropped to the floor at the sudden genture, your chest all pressed up against him.

"such pretty tits," he whispered, his eyes full of heat. he planted some kisses on your collarbone, trailing all the way down to your bust. his hands squeezed your sides, "perfect hips," he mumbled to your skin. his kisses didn't stop, it really felt like he was singing praise to every part of your body, making sure he didn't miss a single inch. every touch had left your skin aflame, yet you didn't mind.

he kneeled, kissing the side of your thigh. "don't even get me started on these thighs," his bright blue eyes stared at you from below, the rush of excitement that's on your chest was something you couldn't even begin to explain. to have the strongest person kneeling in front you as he worshipped you so lovingly... you must've done something right in your past life was your only conclusion.

satoru began to stand, carrying you along with him. you squealed at the abruptness, but soon your back was met with the familiar softness of your bed. he put his hands on either sides of your head, looking at you like you're his world. he peppered kisses across your face as you laughed, it really felt like he just swallowed sunshine. the funny feeling flowing down his chest was something he'd never get used to, but in no way that it felt bad. not at all.

"you're so perfect baby."

you cupped his face gently, kissing him deeply. whispering words of gratitude against his lips, you felt him smile. which worried you a little since it's one of those mischevous he wore when he's up to no good.

oh you.

so oblivious.

oblivious to the fact that satoru's stream of compliments is far from over.

[pianocat939]

Yandere Player 230 (Thanos) Headcanons

(Since at the time of this post I finished episode 5, I'll only include the first 2 games, but I'll probably finish the season in like a day or two, so I'll probably write a part 2 later)

All my headcanons of Squid Game from here on out are the players trying to keep MC from being killed. For non-players, I'll think of something else.

Part 2

Tw: aggressive behaviour (slight violence), [Murder is probably gonna be the next part]

Probably notices you because one: you pretty. Especially when 196 dies right away. Before the game even starts though, he's already trying to flirt. He tries so hard to glorify himself so that maybe you'd be interested in him.

I say 100% what would pull him in even more is if the reaction from you turns out to be either: "No thanks" or "???". Like you're just trying to get the money. This Thanos dude is weird.

As soon as the first game starts and player 196 dies, he immediately focuses all of his attention on you. Other than winning the game of course.

Let's you lose your footing and start to fall when the doll the turns around. But just in the perfect moment, he hugs you from behind, keeping you pressed against him. He snickers, staring at you.

"Senorita, don't die yet. I haven't you made you obsess over me."

You know how high this mf is. He will try to get you to gallop with him lmao. He be like "Yippeee"

As you make the finish line. He pulls your cheek, laughing like a psycho.

"You're so cute. Don't worry. Thanos will destroy the evil with his infinity stones."

During voting, he tries to convince you to vote blue. He wants you on his team. He wants to keep playing this hellhole of a game with you. He's a psycho, he knows that.

If you don't, he'll just be clingy af and stick to you as much as possible. He literally doesn't give a single fuck what everyone else thinks. He just wants you to acknowledge him and maybe show interest.

During meal time, he probably tries to feed you or get you to feed him. He probably pokes you with the spoon until you eat.

"Come onnnn, you need to eat if you wanna survive with me, yeah?"

During sleep time, istg 10000% he will try to get into your bed when you're asleep. He doesn't care if it wakes you up. He just wants to see your reaction. He would try to convince you to sleep beside him too. He doesn't really care if it's cramped or not.

He definitely will offer his pills to you. Nothing's better than making sure you're not panicked and getting yourself killed.

During game 2, he'll pull you into his team along with Namgyu. He'll let you pick whatever game you're good at. He'll definitely make sure you're next to him. Preferably on the edge so you're only connected to him.

"You stay next to me. You're good at 딱지 No?"

During the 2nd voting, he'll be much more aggressive with trying to get you to continue the game. If you choose no, he'll be much more pissy and follow you everywhere. If you choose yes, you'll just feed into his interest with you. He'll hug you or hold your arm.

During the 2nd night, he'll just pull you to his mattress and not let you leave. He's surprisingly very perceptive. He won't hesitate to squeeze your arm a little tighter to make sure you stay.

"Don't leave little mouse. Wouldn't want to get stabbed to shreds by someone, right?"

He likes showing off his raps to you. He doesn't care if someone thinks he's stupid or weird.

"It's Thanos yeah? Wouldn't wanna kill yourself yeah?"

—————————————————————————

I'm sorry if my grammar is literally all over the place. If you couldn't tell, I am down bad for Thanos (and his actor being T.O.P. doesn't help).

- Celina

[multific]

The Dreamer Empress

Emperor Geta x Reader

Warnings: mention of murder, blood, and spoilers of the movie. The reader's character is based on Helaena Targaryen from House of the Dragon. 

Summary: You always dreamt—dreams of death, happiness and the Empire. But your dreams always come true.

The Dreamer Empress.

That is what the people of Rome called you.

What not one of them knew is how your dreams always come true.

Even as a child, you had dreams, and soon your suspicions were confirmed.

You dreamed of a man with firey hair whom you would marry. Who would love you so much, it was unimaginable. 

But whenever you see him in your dreams, he always has fire and death surrounding him.

You knew that had to be a sign.

A sign of his true nature.

But his eyes were so soft as he looked at you.

He couldn't be that bad right?

Perhaps you shouldn't have assumed so much. 

Perhaps you should have believed your dreams.

Emperor Geta was sadistic, angry and impatient.

But his eyes as he looked at you, seemed to change.

You saw it in them.

But you got scared, turned around and left.

After all, how would you explain to him that you have been having dreams about him? About a life you two can have.

The Emperor.

Of all men.

Of course, it had to be the Emperor.

You thought about running far. Never meet him again, but you still went to the Colosseum.

You still sat so you could see him. 

You watched as he decided on the fate of the men.

How can you already love him?

You only met him in your dreams.

Never even spoke a single word with him.

And yet you knew, you loved him.

Then, he suddenly looked at you. Of all the people there, his eyes locked with yours. 

And you immediately knew, there was no point in running. 

You were destined for him.

You met him the same day.

He was drinking some wine while his brother was laughing.

Geta was drawn to you the moment you entered. You tried your best to avoid him, but you knew it was pointless.

He found you and you gave yourself to him fully.

"Marry me." he whispered into the night before he kissed you.

---

You woke up in his arms, like many mornings before. 

You stirred and so did he. 

"My Love?" his voice was always so deep in the mornings.

"I had a dream." you whispered and he moved his head into your neck, you hugged him. "I dreamt... your brother was holding your head, but, your body wasn't there and Macrinus was behind your brother with a bloody knife in his hand."

"My Empress and her dreams. My Beautiful Wife and her gift from the Gods."

Geta learned about your dreams almost right after you two wed. You mentioned to him a Gladiator he would like. The next day, a new Gladiator showed up, earning the amusement of both Emperors.

Later, you mentioned to him a plan. The Senator's plan to overthrow him and his brother. You told him that in your dreams the Senator gathered with his people behind a lion.

Geta's soldiers found the Senator and his group of men hiding in a room with a lion statue blocking the door.

Geta believed in your dreams. He had no reason not to. They were all true.

He was the first to call your dreams a gift from the Gods.

"I will make sure Macrinus' plan falls." he said before kissing your lips. "My wife cannot lose me."

"I truly cannot." you looked into his eyes and he smiled, knowing just how serious you were.

He made sure Macrinus failed. 

Geta promised you a long and fulfilling life. And he would make sure to give you just that. 

Weeks passed, then a whole year.

Rome was growing and the people were happy.

They all loved the Empress, as much as the Emperor did.

"You haven't been having dreams recently." Geta noted one evening when you got ready for bed.

"I do have them, Geta. They are happy ones."

"You said those are rare."

"They are. But they do happen."

"Will you tell me what it was?"

"I had a dream of you with a boy."

"A boy?" he asked confused.

"Your son, I believe he was. He called me Mother as he ran to me when you told him to and he looked much like you."

"You dreamt of us having a son and didn't tell me?" he sounded rather hurt.

"I am sure I'm not pregnant."

"I know but... sometimes I wish I could see your dreams. The happy ones sound truly spectacular."

You smiled at him as you lay down in your bed.

"I am so used to seeing bad things, I rather not get carried away when I see something happy. I didn't mention this one to you because I was afraid it wouldn't come true."

"Of course it will. All of your dreams come true. This won't be any different. We will have that beautiful boy you saw. And we will be happy. I promise you, My Love."

"I like your promises. They are much like my dreams. You always make sure they become real." he kissed you on the lips after he joined you in bed. Moving to lay you on your back and he moved on top of you.

"That is because I simply love you."

"And I love you too." you said with a tear in your eye and pulled him in for another kiss.

Just how glad you were for not running away.

You were glad you stayed and decided to face your destiny. 

You were glad to have such a man by your side.

The crazy and violent Emperor of the people, who was also your loving and caring husband.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[renthony]

There's a post going around right now about women being allowed to wear pants, and the way that relates to discussions on gender nonconformity, etc.. There's a long thread of folks talking about how women very much do not have absolute freedom to dress masculine, and a few other posts that have spawned off the main discussion.

And I haven't added onto that main post because I didn't feel like I had much to add, but now it's been a couple days and I can't stop thinking about how I was forced to wear a dress to my high school graduation in small-town Mississippi. I'm not a woman, but I didn't know that yet, so it's a relevant story.

The school administration threatened every single girl with the punishment of being banned from walking across the stage if we wore pants beneath our graduation robes. We got an entire lecture about how it was inappropriate for us to wear pants to such an important formal event.

My school had a strict uniform policy, and the graduating seniors being allowed to wear our own clothes to graduation was seen as a huge fucking deal. We'd spent four years not being allowed to wear our own clothes or accessories, and graduation was supposed to be our time to finally wear what we wanted. This was a bigger deal than it might have been otherwise, because my school also refused to allow us to decorate our graduation caps. We were not allowed to display any customization at all. One girl put her name on hers so her family could find her from the crowded stands, and the school administration made her throw her hat away and buy a new one or else she wouldn't be allowed in the event hall.

The school, knowing how excited many of us were about picking our outfits, gave us a strict dress code. Our outfits wouldn't be seen until after we took off the graduation robes to go home, but still, we had a nightmarishly strict guide for what we were allowed to wear beneath them. They had to be formal outfits, they had to fit a certain color scheme, they had to adhere to the school policy about skirt length and skin visibility, and, naturally, they were extra harsh on the girls, as dress code policies always are.

One guy joked that he was going to go naked underneath in solidarity with all the girls who were upset about the dress requirement. He got pulled aside by an administrator and told that if he made that joke again, he wouldn't be given his diploma. Which I'm pretty sure is illegal, but it was still the threat that got made.

Everyone was pissed, several people were livid because they had already bought an outfit they were now not allowed to wear, because the administration had actively misled us for weeks into believing we would be allowed to wear what we wanted. There had been no mention of dress code requirements until they dropped them on us at rehearsal the morning of graduation, less than 12 hours before the event.

We had no power to override the school administration. We were given a strict lecture at rehearsal about how flouting dress codes is unprofessional and if we gave that kind of attitude to people over dress codes in the workplace, we'd be fired.

We were ultimately told that, "if it's not appropriate for church, it's not appropriate for graduation." Those of us who asked "what if we aren't Christian and don't even go to church" were told "you still know what kind of clothes church clothes are, so stop being rude."

This happened in May of 2011.

[cherriicou]

‘GAMER BF WONWOO’

MDNI, 18+

SUMMARY | wonwoo playing games with his little gf in his lap <3

PAIRING | nonidol! wonwoo x fem! reader

CONTENT | smut with no plot¿, cockwarming, pet names, unprotected sex (don’t), voyeurism?, degradation, might be missing some

WORDS | 1.3K

A/N | a dream fantasy pls lord

"you alright, baby?" wonwoo smiles at you on his lap as you let out a small whine.

"mhm," you say with such little confidence, making him let out a chuckle. shivers rush through your body as you can feel it with him inside you.

"promise?" he asks with an honest smile. you nod and slowly wrap your arms his neck. taking a deep breathe as you hear your boyfriend start to type on his keyboard.

"as quiet as you can love." wonwoo pats your head, hinting he is about to enter the call with his friends. you simply reply with another nod and continue to nuzzle your face into his neck.

“WONWOOOOO”

“yoooo”

“hi”

you can clearly hear the voices of hoshi and vernon, but their voices soon fade out of your head as all your senses care about is the boy’s lap you’re straddling.

while wonwoo chats with his friends, you’re at a line of impatience. all the sounds he makes are torture as you feel it all inside you. mind becoming blank and the wetness of your cunt is almost unbearable.

you think of how soft his skin feels as you rub your face into it. the shirt he’s wearing is the kind of material he loves and that you buy often for him. the way his hair smells, his cologne; so sexy and masculine. how deep his voice is and the words coming out are so aggressive yet it made you even more needy.

“SHIT" wonwoo let’s out a shout, leaving you completely unprepared as he jolts up in frustration, causing a very loud moan to erupt from you.

"what was that?" you hear one of his friends ask.

“movie playing in the other room," he lies while mindlessly petting your hair, a cute habit he usually does to comfort himself and you. you start to relax a bit after a few seconds of breathing while wonwoo starts to rub your back.

"you've got to be quieter next time, my love," a sweet voice whispers into your ear. you mumble a quiet ‘okay’ which he takes as a sign to continue playing.

the next time he gets up in anger, you bite down onto his shirt, muffling the soft moans that find their way out of you.

after a while, you start to feel lack of attention from your boyfriend. in an act of neediness, you start to move a bit on his cock. a bit of relief filling your body; but despite your assumptions, wonwoo was holding back his own groans.

"stop moving, slut," he states sternly -- but very quietly. the degrading nickname sends shivers down your spine.

wonders go through your mind. you didn’t want to upset him but the feeling below was so strong and felt so good, maybe he’ll be ni-

"if you don’t stop, i won’t let you cum," he growls. "i would fuck you endlessly but i wouldn’t let a single drop of relief come out of you. i’ll leave you crying and begging for some sort of release.”

you continue to sit very still after the very scary warning wonwoo had given you. another tortuous hour goes by before tears start to fall out of your eyes and soak the fabric of his shirt, he notices immediately.

the ding of him muting himself on the call surprised you while he starts to ask if you were okay. cupping you small face in his hands while examining your figure.

"j-just f-feels so good," you answer quietly. "p-please, woo," you continue to babble, begging for nothing in particular, with a high-pitched moaning couples with your incoherent babbling.

"what does my pretty girl want, hm?" he coos and runs his hand through your hair so he can look at your face. he repeats his previous question, asking his love what you want, but you only continue to let out nonsense. going on begging, not telling wonwoo what you want from him, just pleading for something. "i think i've broken my girl, haven't i?" wonwoo smiles. "she's just a little dumb cockwhore after i had some fun, isn't she?"

you just nod shamelessly, not caring about your pride at the moment — just that hope of being filled at any point making you acknowledge his question.

"one more round, love, i know you're very needy and hmmm, i believe my good girl needs a reward," wonwoo places a small kiss on your lips.

you nod before going back to the previous position of holding him close, your face pressing against his shirt. the familiar ding of him being unmuted goes off, and you hear him explain that he had to use the bathroom.

after another round of sitting still in his lap so that he wouldn't punish you, you hear him tells his friends that he's done for the night, stating he's too tired for another game.

"aw my baby, are you all dumb from some dick?" he coos as he slides out of you and carries you to the bed.

you nod quickly but wonwoo raises an eyebrow, making you utter out the words. "mhm, s-so dumb for you."

"that's what i thought," he laughs before you continue with your ramblings.

"i need you wonnie," you beg, and to that, he answers with a cocky smile and shrugging off his shirt.

without anymore teasing, he thrusts into you, causing a loud moan to escape.

he starts slowly at first, knowing that you’re a bit sensitive right now, and smirks at the sight below him. he takes your hand into his as he looks down at you, basking in how your mouth is agape with moans slowly spilling out, the way your hair is unkempt, the way his button shirt is too big for you so you don’t button all the buttons while he fucks you.

nothing could beat you wearing his clothes, the way it is just enough of oversized so he could still see the curves of your body.

your cute little matching set always ready under them. so perfect, so pretty, all just for him.

"f-faster, please," you plead with a moan and wonwoo obliges, speeding up slowly with low groans.

"whose my pretty girl?" he asks with your sweet moans as an answer. "you want me to fuck you until you cry, huh?"

with a curt nod, wonwoo speeds up his thrusts, using the encouragement of your moans to keep him going.

"stop biting your lip, i want to hear how i m making you feel."

almost automatically, you release your bottom lip from the confines of your teeth and let out all the obscenities that make their way out of you, making wonwoo smile in pleasure. his pleasure elevates as he feels you slightly tighten around him like a vice, urging for him to go faster, and push you to edge.

his hands are everywhere. from your hips, your neck, your tits, and teasingly sometimes even rubbing his thumb on your pussy.

"gonna - mmm fuck - come for me, aren't you?" he smiles, continuing his fast pace as you can only answer with quick nods.

his pace stutters slightly so he focuses solely on you -- his hand intertwines with yours again, but this time so tightly that it almost hurts -- to concentrate.

the rolling of his hips and groans keep you grounded as a wave of pleasure washes over you. his thrusts coming out now hard and allowing him to go as deep as he can in you. wonwoo continues to fuck you through it, finishing himself inside you.

reluctantly, he slides out of you, but also returns with sweet kisses along the base of your neck and lips, all while both your hands still grasp onto each other.

he whispers sweet things as he does so, stating that his good girl was so good for him and such.

"alright, let’s get my pretty girl cleaned up," he smiles kindly and lifts you up.

[cryptfile]

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

my masterlist