#but I still want to be a smoking hot woman

[itsmeyaspider]

Yandere Kengan Ashura mens x female reader

Pov: The first time they saw you

Trigger Warning: Yandere behavior, stalking, jealous behavior, possession, obsession, smoking, cigarettes

Note: I know it's been a while since I wrote something, but I recently finished watching the Kengan Anime and I can't stop thinking about anything else, then my hot muscle men's!🤧😭✨️ ((I probably should mention that this was my first real attempt to write several headcanons, english is not my main language I really tried my best! I still hope you liked it<3))

Ohma:

Ohma doesn't think much of love and certainly not of love at first sight. He has far more important interests than dealing with such an idiotic thing like love, or at least he thought.

The first time he sees you was at one of his underground tournaments , you were sitting in the back row, waiting for a friend to bring some drinks and popcorn. At first he didn't think much of it, you were just an ordinary spectator who had come to watch one of his fight. But something in him wondered what a beautiful woman was doing at such a place. Of course there were other woman present but they eiter were CEOs or family members. So what the hell are you doing here?

He keeps catching himself staring at you, something about you has aroused him but he didn't understand what. Was it your beautiful (h/c) hair? Or were it the different gestures you made during the tournament? Something deep inside him wanted to see you closer, he wanted to talk to you and ask what you are doing here.

After the tournament was finally over he ignored everyone else around him, he had a new important mission and that was to find you. He walked in every hotel room and in every corridor just to find you. It took a while but he found you. Finally. You were sitting outside on the beach with your friend and it seems that you having a lot of fun together. Was this your boyfriend?!

Only now does he notice how his heart begins to race faster and faster, something he only knew from fighting. He immediately comes over to the two of you, as your (e/c) eyes look at him for a few seconds. You are a bit surprised what one of the fighters wants from you at such a lats hour, as you let out a small sigh.. "Can we help you? Oh and your fight was sooo cool!" A small smile spreads on your lips as you keep looking at the fighter.

That was the moment when Ohma fell in love for the first time in his life. Your voice, your eyes, everything about you made him want more of you. You were his new obsession and he would do anything to keep it that way. Even if it means to get rid of this asshole by your side. He was the better choice anyways.

"I don't like seeing you with that guy. You should stay by my side, forever. You are mine."

Raian:

Raian knew since his childhood days that one day he would be forced to marry someone. After all, the Kure Clan is known for strengthening their family through marriages. Even if he would rather devote himself to other, more fun things like murdering or fighting, he had no other choice but to obey his grandfather.

The first time he met you was outside at night. You were on your way home when a strange, drunk man accosted you. You usually ignore this kind of people, but today was a fucking shitty day. "Please leave me alone sir. I need to get my bus." You said with annoyance. The man weren't interested in your words, he came closer to you and as he was about to touch you, you finally had enough. You threw your (f/c) bag you had taken with you on the ground and kicked him in his face.

"Don't you dare to touch me ever again." you threaten him, the drunken man slowly falls to the ground. You roll your (e/c) eyes in annoyance as you pick up your bag and make your way back to the bus stop.

Suddenly you feel a warm breath behind you, as you slowly turn around you see a tall, muscular man. His wide sadistic smile and his damn black eyes who keep staring at you, made you really uncomfortable. The mens laughter didn't make the situation any better and something inside you knew immediately that you didn't stand a chance against him.

"Look what we have here~ A little bunny trying to act all mighty and strong. How cute." His voice sounds almost psychotic, something that makes your body tremble. How long has this men been behind you? Why didn't you notice him? And why the fuck is your body acting so damn scared? "Have you lost your tongue?~"

And from this moment on he laid eyes on you, Raian knew that he would marry you. Even if you didn't want to, what are you going to do about it? Try to fight him?

Even his grandfather couldn't do anything about it, once bis grandson got something into his head there was no turning back. At least the Kure Clan would get new descendants.

"You will be mine and mine alone understand?! You will obey me and give me many children little bunny."

Sen:

Sen is a womanizer, he loves woman very much but sometimes a little bit too much. He never really cared about commitment in a relationship. Most of the time he gets bored and breaks up with a woman, or he simply cheats on them. It's nothing personal, but that's how he is.

So when he met you for the first time he was in a small shopping mall, he didn't have much to do and because his day was filled with boredom he decided to go to the mall. He was just about to take a cigarette out of his pocket when he realized that he had lost his lighter. With a small sigh, he scratches his head as he looks around for someone who might have a lighter with them.

And then you caught his eye, you were standing in front of one of many entrances, lighting up a cigarette. You took a drag from the nicotine as you feel your body relax.

"Do you have a lighter for me?" You are thrown out of your daydreaming when you hear a soft male voice. You immediately reach into your pocket and hand the handsome man your lighter. With a smile, the men starts to light his cigarette too. "What is a beautiful woman like you doing here? Oh, how rude of me, my name is Sen." You're a little bit suprised that the men is talking to you, most people ask someone for a light, then they light their cigarette and disappear again. "Oh...I'm working here, I just have a small break. My name is (Y/n) it's a pleasure to meet you."

Sen is visible pleased that you are talking to him, his relaxed eyes never take their eyes off you and your (b/s) body. The two of you talk for a while, as you almost forget your work. "I need to go back to work, it was a pleasure to meet you." You say with a small smile on your face, putting out the cigarette. For a glimpse you thought you saw some anger in his eyes, but you shake off those thoughts as you head off to your work again.

He decides to make his way home, but all he could think off is you, something in him longed for you and your sweet voice. He wants to protect you...and maybe also kiss you. With a small sigh he turns back to the mall as he slowly starts to watch over you. He only wants to make sure that no one is trying to hurt you.

"Don't be afraid of me doll, I will make sure that nobody hurts you. Just come in my arms and I will show you how much you mean to me. You will be mine so don't be a douchbag and accept your faith."

Saw Paing:

Saw Paing had never thought much about love, his life consisted mainly of training and fighting, one day he would beat his rival Kaolan for sure! But he wasn't like Ohma who is certainly not interested in love, he just never had the right moment for it.

He was in the gym where he started his usual training routine, when he suddenly noticed you. You were doing a few push-ups as you failed miserably. Something in him had to giggle at your helpless sight, he immediately runs to you with a lot of charged energy. "SHALL I SHOW YOU HOW TO DO IT PROPERLY?"

The unexpected shout jolts you out of your thoughts as you fell on the floor. Your cheeks start to flush from the embarrassing moment you witness. Why can't you just sink into the ground? Unfortunately that wasn't an option, you try to pick yourself up as you notice that the men is holding out his hand to you. For a small moment you both stare at each other, but the silence was even weirder than your push up and so you gladly took his hand.

The man pulled you up with such a swig that you thought you would fall to the ground again. Saw Paing started to laugh again, as you still were embarrassed by the whole situation. "I AM SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE YOU." He yells again. "It's alright, I just wasn't expecting this."

The man turned out to be Saw Paing, you two talked a bit and he actually helped you to do some proper push ups! However, it was getting late and you were desperate to get home before it went dark. The fighter offered to walk home with you, you smile as your (e/c) eyes start to sparkle. "Thank you, that would be really nice."

The two of you spent some more time together, and Saw Paing noticed how much fun it was to talk and train with you. He saw how your beautiful eyes sparkle when you talk with him. Something in him wanted to know if you also look at other men's like that.

He doesn't quite understand what's happening in him, but something inside him wanted to spend more time with you, even if you are a stranger to him! He didn't want you to lead a life without him and forget about him. He wanted to be there for you, to help you! Was that love? If so, then he would do anything to make sure that you were only his!

"Let us be together (Y/n)! I will help you with everything you need, just promise me that you only have eyes for me! You are mine."

[eradicatetehnormal]

New approach to feminist media discourse: "Scenes such as James Bond seducing Pussy Galore and Thor's abs being touched by Jane Foster all perpetuate toxic matriarchy and the idea that the female gaze is something to be uncritically accepted despite its demeaning effects on men."

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

[tossawary]

Rewatched the Howl's Moving Castle movie (fantastic animated movie, definitely inspired by more than an adaptation of the book) while doing something else and I was struck this time by the fact that the Prince (Turniphead the Scarecrow) says that he intends to go tell his king to call off the war, but THEN he intends on COMING BACK to Ingary to shoot his shot with Sophie again because (as he says to the flirtatious Witch of the Wastes) "hearts change".

And maybe he will come back to make Sophie an offer of marriage and then leave again when he's turned down, but I imagined for a moment that the Prince (who is possibly the movie's version of Prince Justin, so let's call him Justin) might just... move back into Howl's house without asking and stay there. There are several cases of precedent for this. Also, as Turniphead, he's shown several times helping Sophie with laundry, or playing with Markl, or helping the Witch of the Wastes move around, and Sophie deserves that kind of help around the house! Howl isn't going to reliably do chores.

And you know what? I think Howl would be into that shit. There's something very Wynne-Jonesian about it all still. It's tempting to write a post-canon fic about this situation from the movie with an extra dash of flavoring from the books. Like:

This is the infamous wizard Howl Pendragon/Jenkins, a vain draft-dodging flirt who likes to build moving castles to evade taxes too. The beautifully angry young woman with the silver hair over there is his wife, Sophie Hatter, who may or may not be an extremely powerful witch, but right now she's dusting and do not get in her way. This is Calcifer, the fire demon who used to have Howl's heart and is arguably his other life partner and also might be in love with Sophie, and this is arguably kind of actually his house. The old lady smoking a cigar over there is Howl's ex-girlfriend and former nemesis, the Witch of the Wastes, who now lives in their house. This is Markl, Howl's apprentice, kind of his kid, and there is no explanation of where he comes from or what happened to his parents. The dog used to be(?) the Royal Wizard's spy (Howl used to be her apprentice and potential successor) but now he also just lives here. And that's Prince Justin of Strangia, Sophie's house-boyfriend. Don't listen to the propaganda, he wasn't kidnapped by a heart-eating wizard; he used to be a cursed scarecrow and now he wants to be here to help Sophie do laundry. He's trying to homewreck and Howl thinks it's both funny and hot.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Rafe was so hot this season. Need more of him plsss Can you do Topper sister reader getting caught touching herself and then they start sexting and she ask him to fuck her? reader is 18, of course!

I have a few more Rafe requests in the work. Please keep them coming, I miss this man (and JJ!!)

Warnings: 18+, smut, brother’s best friend, sexting, daddy kink, protected p + v, 

—

Rafe never bought your sweet and innocent bullshit you put up in front of people. He knew that under your appearance, under the preppy clothes, the big doe eyes and the angelic laugh, you were anything but innocent. 

Him and Topper have been friends for over ten years, and have been hanging out almost everyday. He watched you grow two feet taller, and when your little girl body turned into a woman’s. He saw you. He studied you. 

It wasn’t until that afternoon the boys came back from the golf course that Rafe had his confirmation. Topper told him to use your bathroom since the main one was being reconstructed, thinking you weren’t home, but when Rafe walked into your room, he saw you naked on your bed, humping your pillow. It wasn’t just any pillow. It was the one with the face on it — a pillow pet, you had called it. The nose of the turtle was rubbing perfectly on your clit, drawing out the softest whimpers and mewls. 

He watched for a few seconds in silence as you rocked down on the pillow back and forth, a smirk curling on his lips. 

‘’Having fun here?’’ he said in a teasing tone, snapping you out of your bubble.

‘’What the fu—’’ You turned around, startled, and saw Rafe standing in your doorway. ‘’Rafe! What are you doing in my room?’’ 

‘’Just needed the bathroom,’’ he explained. His eyes trailed down your body, seeing it for the first time. ‘’Didn’t know you were busy.’’

You threw a plushie at him, hitting him square in the chest. ‘’Get out!’’ 

Rafe laughed and obeyed, closing the door behind him. ‘’If you want to do some naughty things and not get caught, you should lock the door.’’ 

୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

Since that afternoon, Rafe couldn't help but shift his eyes to you whenever you were around. Now that he knew what was underneath the skirts and girls tops, his imagination had free rein. He was careful, though, making sure your brother never caught on —Topper would kill him if he knew the things he was thinking about you. He made it crystal clear to Rafe and Kelce: you were off-limits.

You didn’t care about your brother’s rule though. Rafe was your brother’s hot best friend. Every girl in Kildare was begging to get in his pants — and now you got it too. But it didn’t cross your mind until the other day when he walked in your room. Maybe it was because you’d always known him, seen him as a kind of second big brother. But now? That image had changed, and there was no going back.

One evening, Rafe was hanging in his bedroom, ready to go out with nowhere to go since Kelce had bailed on him for a Tinder hook up. The asshole. Rafe was annoyed, but there was nothing he could say to make Kelce choose beers over sex. To be fair, He would choose sex too.  

He had texted Topper, but he was at Ruthie’s, which meant Rafe was completely on his own tonight. He’ll probably smoke a bit of weed and watch some porn later, a cozy evening. But Wheezie was still home and Rafe promised her he had quit smoking. 

As he waited, his phone buzzed on his bed where he left it. Rafe picked it up, confused when he had received a picture from an unknown number. It was a faceless girl in a delicate sheer pink cami, and her tits looked fantastic. He frowned as he typed ‘who’s that?’. Must be a mistake.

A reply came five seconds later.

You: You don’t recognize my tits Rafey?

Instantly, he knew it was you. It was a nickname you gave him when you were younger. No one but you called him that — Rafey. 

Rafe: How did you get my number?

You: Stole it from Top’s phone 🤭

Rafe: Naughty girl 

You: Did you like it?

Rafe: Like what?

You: My pic! 📸

You: [picture attached]

It wasn’t the same picture. Not exactly. This time, your sheer cami was pulled up and your tits were completely out. 

Rafe cursed and ran a hand through his hair. How did that happen? It was clear that you sent this picture with the intention of initiating something with him. But why was this happening now? What made you go and send him a picture of your tits tonight? You never flirted with him before, or showed signals that you were interested. 

He reached down to rub himself over his pants as he typed a reply. 

Rafe: Fuck those are nice 🥵 

You: They’re cold…🧊❄️ Can you come warm them up? 

Rafe had to do a double take when he read your message to make sure he hadn’t misread it. Can you come warm them up? It was right there on his phone screen. He looked down at his pants, tented and tight, and groaned. He wasn't sure if he should go through with this or not. Did he want to go to you? Absolutely. Should he break his best friend’s trust for a good fuck? 

Rafe: As long as you warm me up too. 

He sent a picture of his tented pants, which he was incredibly hard under.

You: Waiting for you 💕 

 ୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

When he arrived, Rafe turned off the truck’s headlights and made sure the neighbors didn't see him. The lady that lived in front of the Thornton house was a country club member and loved to spread gossip around. It wasn’t unusual for him to be at the Thornton’s, but Topper’s truck was not in the driveway. 

The last thing he needed was her spying through her curtains. 

You were sitting on your bed in a pair of panties your mom didn’t know you owned and your pink cami, waiting for Rafe to show up. Tannyhill was seven minutes away, he shouldn’t be long.

‘’Hi, Rafey,’’ you greeted with the most innocent smile and doe eyes.

Rafe shook his head, tsking. ‘’Uh, uh. Don’t play that game with me.’’ 

Your lips curled into a smile. ''Took you long.''

He rolled his eyes. ‘’What’s the hurry? Are your parents coming home soon?’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’I’m just so fucking horny.’’ 

Rafe laughed out loud. He never heard you speak like that, so raunchy and bold. 

You stood on your knees and lifted your cami off, leaving you topless. Your nipples were peaked and pretty, as if greeting Rafe. ''Are you gonna come and warm them up?''  

No need to ask twice. Rafe pulled you onto his lap and put his large hands on you, groping and playing with your tits. His calloused fingers kneaded into the soft flesh expertly. He found your hardened nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, causing you to whimper at the sensation. 

‘’You like when I give your tits attention, uh?’’ he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded, shifting so your needy cunt would come in contact with Rafe’s rock hard erection. He noticed what you were trying to do, and a smirk played on his lips before he attached them to your neck. 

‘’Can't get enough?’’ Rafe asked between kisses. ‘’Didn’t know you were such a needy little thing.’’ His hips rocked up into yours, grinding his thick cock against your clothed cunt. 

The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making you whimper and cling to his shoulders. ‘’Rafe.’’ 

‘’I'm going to fuck this sweet cunt until you can't walk straight,’’ he promised darkly, nipping over the sensitive spot where your pulse raced, making you gasp and arch into him. 

You’ve thought a lot about Rafe touching you these past days. You knew from overheard conversations with the boys — and talks around the island — and that he was experienced, that he knew how to please a girl. He had a reputation. And goddamn he didn’t disappoint. 

One of his hands left your breasts to slide down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to rub over your folds...which were slick with arousal. Rafe groaned. ''Fuck, you're already soaked.'' He rubbed slow circles over your clit, feeling how swollen it had gotten. ''Did you grind on that turtle of yours before I arrived? Turtles are an endangered species or some shit, can’t torture them like that.’’ 

A laugh bubbled out. ‘’Rafe…’’ 

‘’What?’’ 

‘’Don’t want you to make me laugh. Want you to fuck me,’’ you said, looking right into his blue eyes. 

Rafe raised an eyebrow, holding your gaze. ‘’You want my cock, babygirl? Want me to fill this pussy up real good?’’ His fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance before pushing inside. 

Your walls clenched around him. 

‘’Rafe…’’ you whined again. 

‘’Okay, okay.’’ He kissed your jawline sweetly, then removed his hand from your panties and swiftly stripped them down your legs. ‘’Might keep these as a keepsake,’’ he joked, holding your lacy thong.  

If you hadn’t been so horny, you would have argued with him to get it back — you didn’t have many and you really liked this pair  —, but all you could think about was the beast in Rafe’s pants pounding into you and making you scream. He could get you on your fours like a dog or fold you like a little pretzel if he wished. 

You just needed him.

You reached for his belt and worked to unbuckle it, but Rafe pushed you back and told you to bend over your vanity. His request surprised you, but you complied. The cool air on your wet cunt made you shiver. You never tried that position before. 

You could hear the sound of Rafe undressing — the rustling of fabric, the undoing of a zipper and the clinking of his belt buckle on the floor. You wanted to look at him — at his cock, more precisely —, but he was already behind you, a hand on your back, making you lean down lower, and nudged your legs further apart. 

The air leaked out of your lungs in a squeaky rush when he pressed the tip, gently tearing through your tight walls. The sensation had you gripping the edge of your vanity. 

‘’You okay, baby?’’ he asked with genuine concern in his voice. 

You nodded. ‘’Y-yeah.’’ 

Once the first uncomfortable thrusts passed, you forgot about the initial pain and felt the pleasure flow through your body. Rafe gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging into your soft skin as he picked up pace. The vanity creaked, a rhythmic beat that matched your increasingly frantic movements.

Your tightness enveloped him like a vice as he pounded into you mercilessly. Christ, you felt incredible. Each deep stroke dragged a gasp from your lips, and he reveled in the sounds of pleasure you made.

''You feel so fucking good, baby,'' he grunted, gripping your hips and digging his fingers into your soft flesh. ''Is this what you wanted when you stole my number through Topper's phone? For me to fuck your tight cunt?'' 

Tears were pricking your eyes, your mouth hanging open while wanton sounds kept spilling out. ''Yes, Daddy!'' you uttered out.

The word slipped without noticing, sending a jolt straight to Rafe’s cock, making him throb inside you. ‘’That's it, baby,’’ he growled, even more turned on. ‘’Let Daddy know how much you love being fucked.’’

He pistoned into you harder, the force causing your breasts to bounce with each thrust. The obscene slapping of skin against skin echoed through the room, adding to the soundtrack of your other sounds. It looked like a scene straight from a spicy booktok romance.

Rafe brought a hand around your neck, forcing you to look up. “Look at yourself.”

You lifted your eyes to the reflection in the mirror. It was a view that was erotic. Seeing yourself nude and flushed along with him, and feeling it at the same time was nearly mesmerizing. The look on your face was hazy, strained, and blissful, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. You locked eyes with Rafe through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear.

Behind you, sweat was sticking to Rafe’s smooth chest, but he didn't slow down. He must have really good stamina. You locked eyes with him through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear. 

‘’Are we putting on a good show?’’ he asked, his voice hoarse and low. His words made your cunt clench around Rafe like a vice. He threw his head back with a groan, his whole body tightening. ''Fuck, you're gonna cut my blood flow if you keep squeezing me like that.''

You wanted to stop, but you couldn’t. You had lost all control of your body, gasping and clenching and rutting hard against Rafe until you came with a drawn-out moan. You shivered through your orgasm and Rafe's steady thrusts. 

When he started to shake, you swallowed hard and found your voice. ‘’Come on, Rafey. Fill me up. Cum deep in my pussy, Daddy!’’ 

That pushed him over the edge, his whole body spasming, cock forced all the way in and filling up the condom. Your chest heaving, trying to catch a breath as he rode out the high, grunts and groans leaving his lips. 

You've never heard anything sexier. 

When he was finished, Rafe pulled out and stepped back, leaving alone on your wobbly legs. You started to lose balance, and quickly grabbed the vanity's edge.

‘’Shit, you good?’’ Rafe asked, his tone hovering between concern and smug satisfaction.

You gave a small nod. You just needed to sit. 

His eyes scanned slowly down your body. ''Fucked you that good, uh?'' he said with a smirk, teasing. 

You shot him a playful glare, going to sit on your bed. ‘’Fuck you, Cameron.’’ 

Rafe laughed as he removed and tossed the condom in your trash. ‘’Just did, Princess.’’ 

God. Could he be more exasperating?

He checked on the way back, reading something that made him frown. ‘’Eh, I gotta go.’’

‘’Now?! We just fucked.’’ 

Although this was a casual fuck and that it’s usually how it ends, you didn’t want him to leave right after. You didn’t expect him to cuddle, but you had hoped he would stay a little. To talk or watch something on Netflix. 

Rafe dressed quickly, explaining that Wheezie needed to drive her to her friend’s house because Rose’s car was not starting. 

Before exiting your room, he called your name. ‘’You sound so pretty when you cum.''

Your cheeks flushed and you hid your face with a pillow. ''Rafe...'' 

The corners of his lips curved into a smug smile. He wasn’t done. ‘’Oh, and I liked when you called me Daddy. It's hot.''

—

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[kitchen-spoon]

Steddie where Eddie moves into a small house in a retirement mobile home park. He is the youngest guy there and is pretty handy. All the old ladies in the neighbourhood start to talk about him when he begins to offer his handyman skills to them as well.

One day after finishing up winterizing Mrs. Harrington’s water supply to her trailer she invites Eddie inside for some tea to warm up. Winter hadn’t hit yet but it was already nippy out she told him. Once inside she invites him to come over Sunday night to join her and her friends ‘book club’. At first Eddie politely declines but once she explains to him that its all the old ladies in the neighbourhood sitting around drinking wine, smoking joints, and gossiping he’s in.

Enter Steve who visits his grandma every Sunday for dinner and sometimes stays for her gossip sessions with all the other bitties in the neighbourhood because the snacks are always great. Steve is surprised that week when the door bell rings and a hot long haired pierced man covered in tattoos is standing there instead of another old woman handing him her coat and cane. Steve sputters for a moment but then his grandmother is coming up behind him explaining this is the young man who fixed her water supply for her.

“Well um, thank you for that.” Steve nods awkwardly, watching over his shoulder as his grandmother waddled away back to her friends. “You didn’t have to come though, sorry if she twisted your arm about it, she’s stubborn.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a small chuckle.

“It’s okay I really don’t mind.” Eddie smiled easily, inching his way into the house and Steve’s personal space. “Smoking weed with a bunch of old ladies and gossiping about my new neighbours sounds like a great way for me to spend my Sunday.” He winked.

“I- yeah it is pretty fun.” Steve agreed having not moved at all. “The snacks are always great too, you’ll have to try Betty’s blondie cake it’s always my favourite.” Steve leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

Eddie beamed back at him, eyes roving all over Steve’s face before pausing at his lips for a second then darting back up to his eyes. “Lead the way then big boy.” Eddie bit his lip at how red Steve’s face got, he decided to push it slipping his hand into Steve’s.

“Yeah- uh sure yeah.” Steve nodded dumbly staring at their connected hands for a moment before snapping out of it and tugging Eddie along. “Everything is set up in the living room, I just got the fire going to so it should be warm.”

By the end of the night Eddie and Steve were melted into one another on a small single seater in the corner of the room. They watched as all the ladies gathered their coats one by one as their husbands came to collect them.

“It’s sweet.” Steve sighed unprompted, his head lolled against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie made a questioning noise so he continued. “Seeing their husbands come walk them back home at the end of the night. They aren’t annoyed that their wives are giggly and a bit wobbly they are just happy they are happy and want to be there to take care of them.”

“You are a sappy stoner Steve.” Eddie teased, he moved his hand over and dropped it onto Steve’s thigh giving it a squeeze. “Can’t say I blame you though, it is very cute to see.” Eddie sighed before unsticking himself from Steve’s side and making his way to the door himself. “I better get going, no husband to come walk me home”. He blushed at the implication of his own words.

“I’ll be your husband.” Steve blurted then immediately turned red. “I mean- I meant that I uhum-“

“You can walk me home Steve.” Eddie smiled wide and teasingly. He looked his arm through Steve’s and tugged him through the door, waving goodbye to Mrs.Harrington with a promise to be back next week.

The walk was short considering Eddie was only 2 houses down and one across. They kept their arms looped the entire 3 minutes they walked, and once they reached the door Steve still hadn’t let go.

“Well goodnight.” Steve spoke first, ducking his head away. He took a deep breath then looked back to Eddie determination on his face when he spoke. “See you next week?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head, “I was hoping sooner, how does Wednesday sound?” He moved in closer his hand sliding down to Steve’s waist.

“Wednesday is great I love Wednesday.” Steve nodded frantically then cringed. “I mean I don’t actually love all Wednesday’s just this one because we are-“

Eddie cut his rambling off with a kiss. He leaned in and connected their lips, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head.

Steve melted into the kiss, his body going lax in Eddie’s hold, “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself further.”

“Anytime sweetheart.”

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ DADDY’S DEALINGS

patch!wolverine (logan) x fem!reader

summary ❥ dont fuck with him while he’s working. you knew that, but what happens when you try to fuck on him during work?

warnings: telekinetic reader & code name is diamond, mentions of blood, semi-public sex (in an empty casino), multiple orgasms, creampies, hair pulling, choking, spanking, teasing, rough sex

note: round two, enjoy! wc: 2.7k, m.list here

men in suits sat at the round poker table. laughing, smoking and having a grand ole time. it seemed like a regular poker night with friends, however it was not. all these men were successful businessmen, but one of them was tonight’s target.

and the two of you were here to uncover who that was. patch sat at the table, keeping a blank face while playing the game. however, he was really reading the room. trying to find one slip up so he could take whomever out.

and he couldn’t do it alone, that’s why you were here. you were the distraction, a man’s weakness was a beautiful woman and that you were. the ruby red spaghetti strapped dress clung to you like another set of skin, catching the eyes of the men in there when you walked in. the gleam of your jewelry blinded them, but the scent of your perfume as you passed by only made them want you even more.

you sat at the bar, ordering something light, not wanting anything to get you drunk, but enough to give you a little buzz. you turned in your and watched the game of poker progress, while glancing at patch.

he looked so good sitting there. muscles flexing each time he moved a chip, thick fingers covered in rings—which you wished were deep inside of you, splitting you open—and the eyepatch that was slapped across his face and covered one of his beautiful hazel eyes; still made him even more sexier than ever.

you couldn’t help but to press your thighs together, mind starting to cloud with lewd thoughts of him bottoming out inside of you. until you were snapped out of your daze by the bartender handing you your drink.

you sighed, sipping on the fruity drink you ordered and taking in your surroundings, hoping the target for tonight’s mission would fuck up and show themselves; so you could finally go home and have hot sweaty sex with patch.

however, as time passed, you realized you were going to be here for a while. the game still went on and nobody moved an inch, boring you to death. but, as you sipped on your third drink for the night, you were hornier than ever. you were dripping, aching for some attention and you were going to get it.

the mission was far from your mind as you got up from the bar and sashayed over to the table, standing between patch and another gentleman , before bending over—your cleavage catching the attention of the other man, while your presence gained the attention of your partner. “mind if i join in?” you asked and the stranger got up from his seat in a hurry.

“you can take my spot miss. im losing anyways,” you smiled and sat down, taking his spot and looking down at your cards. you could feel patch boring holes into your face, but you paid him no mind. you knew you weren’t supposed to interfere with his mission unless he wanted you to, but you didn’t care. you had your own mission to worry about.

“you look a little empty there, can i buy you a refill?” you asked him, leaning over to get in his personal space, so you could whisper in his ear. “ ‘m horny. take me home?”

he glared at you before throwing out one of his cards, “no. busy, working.” you whined and sat back in your chair, following suit and throwing out cards as well. you flagged down a waiter and ordered a margarita, telling him to keep it coming before trying to focus on the game in front of you.

however, the more you sat next to him the more aroused you became. it didn’t help that his cologne turned you on, you wanted to pounce on him right then and there. you slid your heeled foot next to his, teasing him by rubbing it against him—only for him to pull his away. he grunted in response, but never turning to look at you.

you weren’t going to give up either. using your powers, you made the waiter bringing your drink, trip causing him to crash into another waiter, making a big commotion; which distracted the other players. using this as an opportunity to speak to him again, you whispered in his ear—voice soft and sexy.

“please, fuck me. need you so bad” he could smell how bad you wanted him, the moment you sat down, but he didn’t have time for that right now. a new scent took over his nose and he glanced around the room, spotting an older man walking in the room; with two girls on each of his arms and two guards behind him. “they’re here. focus.”

by now the waiter had cleaned up his mess and came back with a fresh drink, handing it to you and apologizing for the first one. you sent him a smile before dismissing him, sipping on the cold drink—watching the new player join the game. he sat across from you and you flashed him a smile, immediately gaining his attention.

the male whispered to his guards, before one of them came over to you. “the gentleman over there wants to know if you could sit next to you and could he buy you another drink?” you glanced at him and he winked. smiling at him, you nodded your head and the guy made his way over; dismissing the women.

he sat next to you and you smiled, taking a look at every detail of his face. he was attractive and you couldn’t help smirk to yourself. you knew exactly how to get patch to pay attention towards you.

“what can I get you to drink?” he asked and you slightly turned towards him, putting out the last of your cards, losing the game. “scotch, on the rocks.”

he smiled in amusement, not many of the girls he came across liked dark liquors. “not good at poker?” you shook your head and he smiled, motioning for the dealer to bet him in. “i’ll teach a pretty lil thing like you how to play. name's richard, but you can call me, dick.”

“diamond,” you moved your chair closer to his, glancing over at patch an evil glint in your eyes. you were playing a dangerous game and you were ready for the consequences. as he taught you how to play, patch watched with a clench jaw. he wanted to rip the guys head off for even talking to you, but he knew what was at stake. all he needed was the guy to touch you and he’d take him out right then and there.

“got a boyfriend diamond?”

“complicated,” that slipped off your tongue too fast for patch’s liking, making him grunt loudly, gaining the attention of dick. “is there a problem?”

“focus on the game, bub.” dick chuckled and stared at patch, wondering who the hell he was. and before he could fix his mouth to say something, your drinks came; gaining his attention. you thanked the waiter and held up your glass, lipstick spreading when you smiled.

“you gonna teach me or what?” you got up from your seat, the frame of your body being outlined by your dress, made his breath get caught in his throat—eyes glued to every curve, watching as you sat down on his lap. the way you sat gave you full view of patch, who was seething. and when dick placed his hand on your hip, he had enough. he jumped up, claws unsheathing, sticking them into richard’s guards—their blood splattering against his white suit.

the people in the private casino scurried away in a hurry, trying to make sure they’re not next to get taking out. more of dick’s guards came running in, guns in their hands, ready to attack—until you appeared in front of them. “sorry boys, you’re not getting through.” you sent them flying into the other room, crashing against the slot machines; knocking them out cold. and for good measure, you picked one up and dropped it on them.

one’s that slipped past were slice up by patch, their bodies dropping at dick’s patent shoes. patch huffed, eyes glued onto richard’s.

“you fucking b—.” his head was sliced clean off, dropping next to the pile of bodies. the rugged man didn’t have time for monologues, he was pissed. pissed at you. the people that were still hiding in the room, peeked their heads out; hoping that it was safe, yet there were proven wrong by the feral looking man in front of them.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” his claws retracted and they all ran out, not trying to be the next person to piss him off. you tried sneaking out with them, only for him to grab you, slinking you over his shoulder. “baby! wait—fuck!” he said nothing and sent a hard smack to your ass, the vibration from it made the stinging sensation linger a little longer. oh you were in for it.

he slapped everything off of the poker table before propping you up on there, your hands and knees pressing into the plush green surface. he hiked your dress up to the middle of your back, grunting when he seen the wet spot in the middle of your black panties. with another powerful smack to your ass, you yelped out, only for him to grip your hair—pulling you towards his chest.

“like having that jerk feel up on you. he makes you wet?” his hand massaged your cheeks, easing the stinging sensation he caused. you whimpered and shook your head, “no baby—only you.”

he slapped both of your cheeks, the wet spot on your panties growing by the second as he took his frustrations out on you. it was one thing to try and sabotage the mission, he’d deal with that later, but to sit on another man’s lap in front of him? oh you deserved this punishment.

you were practically drooling, from both sets of lips, while he continued the torment on your ass—his hand prints now molded on your cheeks. he moved his hand from your hair and slid it down to your cunt, pressing two of his fingers against your clit; your slick immediately seeping through the fabric and onto his fingers.

he grunted and massaged his finger on your clit, eliciting whines from you. you backed your ass up in his palm, trying to add some more friction to your cunt, but he stopped you.

“ ‘m in charge here, doll.” you could hear the clinking of his belt buckle and it excited you. from the way he manhandle you and forced your back down, deepening your arch, you knew he was going to fuck you so good.

your panties were pulled down, exposing your bare—slick coated cunt to him and he let out a low groan. he took your panties and brought it up to his nose, smelling your arousal; his cock becoming stiff behind his boxers—before he reached around and placed them into your mouth.

your moans were muffled as you turned your head slightly to see him pull his underwear down, revealing his fat beer can shaped cock. he fisted his cock for a bit, globs of his precum coating his hand, before he pushed through your entrance; your juices coating his dick immediately.

he didn’t even need to prep you to take him, you were beyond soaked, making it easier for him to slide ride in—rubbing right against your spot. “fuck. gotta keep this pussy to myself.”

you moaned into your panties, while he gripped the side of your hips and began to pound your pussy, splitting you open with each stroke. your ass rippled against him and you struggled to throw it back on him, causing him to smack one of your plump cheeks.

“f-fuck me back…..atta girl,” you started to bounce back on him, the poker table shaking with each thrust. your eyes rolled back into your head, the pleasure so unspeakably intense. he knew exactly how to hit your spot with each thrust, which made your legs shake uncontrollably and an orgasm course through you prematurely.

he felt you clench around him and he stopped his movements, pulling out of you slowly; your bottom lip trembling as you turned to look at him. “did you just fucking cum?” you nodded and his eyes darkened. before you could even process what was happening, you were on your back with ankles pointing up to the ceiling.

the red dress that was hiked up was now on the bar not too far away from you both, and your soiled panties were finally removed from your mouth, allowing you to finally moan freely, as he plunged back into your sopping wet cunt.

he was abusing your cunt each time his cock pistoned in and out of you, cock bullying your walls, sending bolts of electricity towards your clit. you reached down and tried to rub the sensitive bud, but he slapped your hands away causing you to cry out. “nope. you wanted this dick, so that’s what you’re gonna get. got it?” you nodded your pretty little head, earning a powerful smack to your cunt—making you gush around him.

“words. i wanna hear it.”

“yes! yes! fuck—daddy. you’re so deep!” rough calloused hand found its way around your throat, turning you on even more. the look on his face, the way his cock filled you up and how he treated you like his fuck toy, had you wanting more.

the squelching sound that followed when he was balls deep inside of you, made that knot in your stomach become tighter. you were so close and with him twitching inside of you, you knew he was too.

with the help of your powers, you brought him closer to you. his white, blood stained blazer pressed against your breasts, adding some stimulation to your tender nipples; which helped speed up your orgasm. you whimpered, staring into his uncovered eye, cumming for the second time; without him.

specks of white blurred your vision as you came undone. the grip around his shaft, tightening with each thrust that hit your spot over and over again.

he was pissed. first you tried to ruin the mission and had some guy all over you, but now you came twice? oh he was more than pissed.

his grip around your neck loosened and he moved his hand up to your cheeks, gripping them; causing them to puff up in his hands. his stroke was faster and deeper, practically kissing your cervix—making you whine out.

“ ‘s too much! please daddy, can’t take it.” you were able to huff out, but he ignored your pleas, still treating you like a common slut.

“gonna breed this pussy. have you dripping cum for days when im done with you—let everyone know who owns this pussy.” he pounded deeper, his vision getting blurry and his stroke becoming sloppier; before he let go—emptying himself deep inside of you.

he let out a primal growl, sporadically twitching inside of you, before pulling out, globs of his cum slowly starting to pool out; until he plugged it back in with his fingers. you squirmed, but he held you down, making you take the extra pleasure—leading to squirting against his palm.

the wet gushy mess, combined with the previous fluids, stained the plush green fabric underneath you and the bottom of his blazer. patch removed his fingers and sucked your juices off, before he pulled his pants up and snapped his belt on. he pulled your panties back on and walked over to the bar to retrieve your dress, tossing it at you.

“get dressed. you’re punishment isn't over yet.”

[ipodfresa]

Take it off

summary: fwb!sub!abby x reader

warnings: fwb! abby, mentions of marijuana usage, sub! abby, teasing, nipple play, cunnilingus, making out, fingering, needy abby because it's my favorite. proof read-ish. lmk if i missed anything

Fall time was the best time. The stuffy, clammy summer air is gone, and the brisk fall air enters your lungs. The sound of the crunchy leaves under your feet, warm drinks, and smoke seshes in your nice, warm home. You love it. 

But.. it also means cuffing season, and you weren't getting any of that because Abby decided to stop seeing you. You know you are not supposed to get attached while being friends with benefits, but fucking hell, it was Abby for crying out loud. It was normal for Abby to ghost you for 2-3 days, but a whole week? The beginning of the season has been shit for you.

You set up your nightly, ritually smoke sesh in your room. Sitting down on your cozy floor table, convenient for times like these, you start preparing your spread. Rolling papers that left a lingering taste of strawberries, the grinder that you decorated with stickers, your lucky lighter that is always with you, and finally, your precious herb that was in a small glass jar. You put on your favorite show and start getting comfortable until you hear Abby’s signature two knocks. You feel your heart drop literally to your ass. You wait for about 2 minutes until you listen to it again.

Knock, knock.

“Are you fucking kidding me..” you mutter, pushing the table as you stretch your legs. Grabbing the first item of clothing in your hamper, you slip on a hoodie and quickly walk to the door. Opening the door where you meet a deliciously looking blonde-haired girl. Hair out of her braid and shorts that accentuate the muscles on her thighs. She looks too good, and she knows it.

“What do you need?” you said, not even a hello and not even opening the door all the way. Abby puts her arm in the doorway.

“Aw, did you miss me?” she asks, using her body weight to push the door open, pushing you with it. She lets herself inside, already looking around your living room.

“C’mon, Abby. What do you need? You want to call us off for a week and show up at my house without letting me know?” You say as you close the door, following her into your living room. You instantly regret letting this woman back into your home again. The smell of her pine body wash, the sandalwood perfume she wore, and the warmth she emitted from her was enough to open your arms(or your legs) to her again.

“The thing is..” Abby starts, but as she sits on the couch, a sly smirk creeps on her face. You bite your bottom lip, aware of the effect Abby has on you, so if she smiles, you can’t help but smile.

“Take it off,” Abby says, making herself comfortable by spreading her legs, seeing how her shorts ride up and can get a peek of her baby blue spandex shorts. You feel your face warm up, trying to keep your eyes above her waist.

“E-excuse me?” was all you could say as you stared at her in disbelief. 

She raises her eyebrows. “That hoodie,” she says, pointing to the exact hoodie you had on. “I came to get it back with a few of my other things.”

Shit.

“Look, I'm sorry,” sighing to mostly yourself. Abby reminded you that she wanted her stuff back, and because of the sudden disconnect between you two, you didn’t have the time. You took a moment to look around you, seeing if there were any remnants of her presence still lingering in your home. “I haven't done any laundry and just grabbed whatever was in my hamper. Tomorrow, I'll have a look around.”

Abby shakes her head with that same stupid smirk on her face. She flips her hair to the side and loosens the neck of her hoodie collar Was she hot..?

“No. I want you to take it off. Right now,” She says in that tone that you're familiar with. A deep, dulcet, yet desperate. 

You feel this fluttering hurt in your stomach, the good kind. You haven’t slept with anyone since Abby, and she looks like she needs you…

Fuck it.

You grab the bottom of the hoodie, lifting it and revealing your naked top half. Your skin litters with goosebumps, feeling the slight chill air around you, but the warm liquid swimming in your belly is another thing. You see the light pink blush painting Abby’s cheeks as you toss the hoodie. Fuck she’s so cute. Abby catches it but tosses the hoodie to the side and yanks your hand as you fall on top of her. 

“Abby!” you let out a small yelp as she melts her lips to yours. The way Abby was kissing you was enough to tell you that this girl was needy. Hertongue finds yours, teeth clashing, letting out small, quiet moans and whines as her grip on your arm tightens. You break the kiss, taking a good look at her glossy lips, her eyes drooped with arousal, and how her hair is already mused.

“And you said that I missed you? Look at you, poor baby.” You whisper in the space between the two of you, letting your lips linger but not enough for the needy girl below you to get another taste. 

Abby’s eyes widen for a second, opening her mouth to say something but closing it with a flustered face.

“You missed me so much,” You say as your hand creeps up on the muscular thigh, so close to where she needs you. She shifts, wanting to get you between her legs, but you’re already one step ahead of her. You move your knee, having good pressure against Abby that has her slightly bucking her eager hips. “That you came over to get a stupid sweater?”

Abby’s eyebrows furrow, and she shakes her head. This cute, puzzled look on her face makes you want to bury her in kisses, but you’re supposed to be mad at her. You lean back into her lips, biting, sucking, anything that works her up. Abby is putty below you. She lets out these moans that you’ve never heard before, high-pitched mewls that make you bite her lip harder. Your hand creeps up her thigh, up into the crewneck, and you are met with her bare, sensitive chest, rising and falling rapidly  You smile into the kiss, not wanting to embarrass her even more for coming over prepared. You grope her chest, fondling with the fat that lay there and playing with the pebbling nipple. Abby breaks the kiss, inhaling sharply.

“Ah- please.” She gasps, bucking her hips again. This was a completely different side of her. Abby has received from you, and she is pretty vocal in bed, but this fucking submissive? It makes you want to deprive her for weeks on end. You break the kiss, hurridly helping Abby take off her crewneck and attaching your mouth to her boob. Circling your tongue around the rose-colored nipple has Abby holding her breath. After a few minutes of playing with her chest, you trail kisses down to the navel. You didn’t even have to ask, as Abby was quick to slip her shorts off, tossing them somewhere in the living room.

“Mmm, needy, aren’t we?” looking into her eyes as you mutter against her hip bone, skin almost feverish to how warm she was. Abby rolls her eyes, the sass still somehow in her.

“Fuck yes, ok? Please, baby,” Abby whines, throwing her head back onto the couch armrest. She reveals her neck, sweat droplets cascade slowly, accentuating the veins that played there. Fingers are dancing up her leg, in between where you see how desperate her cunt is. Glistening, soft pink flesh and her musk have you blacking out slightly. 

“I want you to look at me, Abby.” You said, patting her thigh to grab her attention as you met with her eyes. It’s as if she was god himself. Her fucked out expression made you clench around nothing.

“Good girl” was the last thing you said as you stuck your tongue out and licked a fat stripe of her pussy. Abby can't help but close her eyes, too overwhelmed by your teasing tongue. 

“Nuh uh, look at me. I want you to watch, baby,” putting your tongue away, smoothing her shaking thighs over with your hands. She nods eagerly, raking her hair out of her face. You bite back a smile before diving in again. Spreading her open with your mouth, Abby was so wet. Slick coating your chin, you move your hand over to pull back her clit to kiss it. Moans strung out from the blonde above, not caring how loud she was getting. She grabs your hair and makes a satisfying pull to your scalp that has you groaning into her cunt. You alternate between sucking, licking, sucking, licking. Your head is spinning as you prop yourself on your elbows, applying the pressure of two fingers dancing on her clit, your jaw feeling sore. Smiling at the cute, blissed-out expression on Abby’s face makes you want to be between her legs all night. 

“Are you close?” you ask, voice hoarse after not speaking for the last 3 minutes. Abby doesn't dare to open her eyes, knowing that if she makes eye contact with you, she’ll come too fast. She nods, eyebrows furrowed as she nibbles on her swollen bottom lip from the constant biting she does. You allow it this time, allowing Abby to take in the euphoric blooming in her stomach. You really shouldn’t, wishing you had prolonged her orgasm as a punishment for ghosting you and making you suffer every night. 

“Come for me, baby, yeah? Show me how bad you want this” Famous last words before you attached your mouth back onto her clit, switching your finger to easily slip into her. Pumping your index finger in a “come hither” motion, feeling her clench around you. 

“Fuck fuck, please, I’m coming. K-keep-ah-doing that,” She hisses as her body seizes, fingers gripping so good in your scalp. Strong thighs clamp around your head as you lazily lick at her rosy clit with a grin.

Who knew Abby could be so fucking needy?

a/n: heyyyyyyy, sorry i was on hiatus for a while. i suddenly got the motivation to write, so do what you will with this

[good-griief]

losing game pt. 1

HEYYYY i'm actually back with a lil smutty angsty ellie fic bc i needed to write for this woman... anyway here's part one its only a lil angsty i just wanted an excuse to write rly gay smut so enjoy and p2 tmrw!!

as most of yall know any reader i write (as a poc writer) has no race, i just wanted to use a picture of taylor momsen bc i love tpr and that's definitely the vibe of the music in this fic

part two part three

read me click me

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Being in the rock scene was your dream. You started with small gigs, then small venues and festivals, and now you had a band to go along with your music. Your career was kicking off and it felt like heaven; every performance, every song, all the adrenaline made for some of the best nights of your life. 

When you picked your band, you hand-selected each member, and to say you picked your guitarist for any reason other than how pretty she was would be a lie. Yes, she was amazing, but you also couldn’t speak when she walked in for her interview. She just smiled, laughing at the way you stared at her before your manager started talking for you. He often did, she came to realize. 

She still accepted the moment you offered her the position, but she made it clear that she didn’t like your manager. She accepted for you; to be with you.

And she slowly became your favorite part of performing. You had this way of connecting with each other — of course, you were close with all of your band members, but she was different. You’d spend time together one-on-one, smoking a joint and talking about nothing until one of you had to force yourself to go. You’d get coffee together, have dinners, and even spend the night at each other’s apartments. Whenever someone asked about you two, you said you were best friends. Even when she was waiting for you at the end of the carpet, and you both laughed at your answer like it was some kind of inside joke. 

Even when you were onstage, on your knees, singing your most sensual song to her as she melted to your level, smirking as her hips thrust against the electric guitar. Sometimes, she even sang with you. You’d hold her face, or thread your fingers through her hair as you held eye contact or rested your forehead against hers with shut eyes, and if there was a break in the song you’d kiss her hard — a stage kiss that the crowd would erupt in cheers over. But they happened offstage, too… after a shared joint or during a party. Nothing more.

She’d let you place your fingers on the strings of her guitar to find the chords as you stood behind her, her head leaning back on your shoulder in a way that showed the muscles on her neck as she breathed in heavy, hot breaths. She let you wrap your hand around her throat, groaning in your ear as fans caught pictures of you dragging your tongue over her sweat-ridden jaw or biting her shoulder as she grinned. 

There was one night you let her take over the mic as you danced along. She played her guitar, singing and watching you until you sang with her. Your hands drifted down her thighs as you kneeled behind her, the crowd screaming as you lifted her shirt and came around to kiss the line of hair below her belly button. She smirked, stopping her playing and fisting your hair to pull your head back as you laughed. 

Nights when you’d take off your shirt, tossing it into the audience and pouring your water on yourself before she came to lick it up, tongue dragging over top of your breasts as you sang breathlessly. There were times she had to wrap her arm around your back to keep you standing when she did that, the action so intimate, so arousing, that it was hard to remember why you were on stage and not in your dressing room, alone with her. Some nights she’d take her shirt off and give it to you if she didn’t want anyone else to see you, smiling at you with her shirt on before you came over to kiss her cheek. 

There were moments with other band members, but none of them were like her. They didn’t make you feel the same — none of them were her. 

So, when the end of her contract came up and she talked to you about leaving to pursue other things, you were devastated. You didn’t think she’d leave, but after a talk with your manager, her decision was set. 

“I think you should,” you told her anyway. “Whatever makes you happy, Els, seriously. I’ll support whatever you do.” She smiled, taking your hand to kiss. On the inside of her fingers, and yours, you could see the matching tattoos you got months ago, threading your fingers together so they match up. 

You dedicated your last show with her to her. It was a surprise, and she cried when you said it in the beginning, but she just turned away to shake it off quickly. At least, she did until you started crying during a song you wrote for her — it was another surprise from you and the rest of the band, but the minute she saw you crying she couldn’t keep it together. She came over to hug you, kissing the top of your head as she let you hide your face in her chest. The crowd awed, but Ellie took the mic to say you’d be back. She set it down and lifted your head to make you look at her. “I love you, pretty girl,” she said, away from the microphone so no one heard her, but they could sound it out if they wanted to. “Please don’t cry.” She wiped beneath your eyes, ignoring the camera flashes and screams from the crowd. “I hate that I can’t do anything about it right now.”

You smiled. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

She laughed at you. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” She nodded to the microphone. “Finish my song, I wanna hear the rest.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, now standing at the mic and making the audience laugh. 

You were such an idiot. 

She never told you what other things she wanted to pursue, but you should’ve known. 

Of-fucking-course she was pursuing her own music. Of-fucking-course she was starting her own band. With yours. Of-fucking-course all of their contracts ending over the course of a few months would amount to this. Of-fucking-course each last show you dedicated to them meant nothing. 

You couldn’t even be mad. It was smart. But you were beyond hurt. 

And she still dedicated her first show to you. She texted you herself, asking you to come. 

When would you learn your lesson?

“I just want to thank you guys for coming,” she said to an audience of mostly your fans. “You might know me — us — from a backup band, but we got a little tired of being backup, didn’t we?” The band laughed. “So, uh, my name’s Ellie if you don’t know… probably don’t,” she laughed as if you’d never thanked or introduced your band before. “And I just want to dedicate this show to the previous artist I worked with. I wouldn’t be here without her, so she means… a lot,” she said it so fucking snarky, “to me, and… I have a few songs for her… if you all wanna guess which ones they are.”

And her first song was the biggest Fuck You song you’d ever heard. 

Still, she texted you after the show. 

She didn’t ask you to come to another show, and maybe that was because you announced a break from music, or because she was getting so much attention that she didn’t care. You saw her at award shows sometimes, and she would cheer when you won. Of course, you’d cheer for her too, but it never went beyond that. Almost like it was an unspoken rule that you weren’t on speaking terms. 

But the minute you came back to the scene, almost a year later, she texted you for the first time since her first show. 

You didn’t reply at first. You hadn’t kept up with her at all during your break, your manager telling you to stay away from any of her and her band's promotions and interviews. He had you block all of them and their numbers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to block Ellie’s. And you were glad you didn’t. Usually, you didn’t have your phone on you until late at night, your manager having your assistant handle your messages and social media, but you were about to fall asleep when she texted. As if she remembered your schedule. 

And it prompted you to look her up. Then her and you, and you could see countless videos. 

every time ellie has mentioned “her” compilation was what you decided to click on. It was made by an account that was clearly a big fan of hers, so you readied yourself for any hate that’d be thrown your way. 

The first clip was an interview, asking her why she split from your team. “You know, I really loved her and her team,” she said, “still really love her. It’s just hard being reminded, constantly, that you're a stepping stone and your time is running low, you know? We might’ve held her back if we stayed, and she was moving on to better things,” it sounded like she was quoting someone else. “—I mean, she always wanted us to shine, and I’m so grateful for her. I really miss being on stage with her, but I don’t miss anything else besides her and I think that says a lot.” 

Another was on her way into a hotel, a reporter asking if you congratulated her on an award. You could remember seeing her at the show before your manager called you over just as she was walking your way. She laughed, “haven’t talked to her in months.” 

Another of a sit-down interview with the whole band, your name being brought up and Ellie snapping at them, “You know I really wish people would stop asking me about her.” She got choked up as the others answered, nose reddening when the question finally circled back to her. “We’re not friends, we don’t talk, she doesn’t want anything to do with us, so...” She shrugged, pissed off. 

The next was another interview. It seemed she was just having to get used to being asked about you. “I’ve tried to reach out,” she said, “maybe she changed her number.” 

Another. “She was my best friend, I miss her a lot. I hope she’s doing okay.” 

And another, asking about her songs. “Yeah, I wrote a lot about her — No, I don’t regret it. I feel like it reflects a moment in time, you know? It was a really nice moment — I mean, I still have our matching tattoos,” she laughed, showing the tattoos on the insides of her fingers. 

Another, after a show. She was always emotional after shows, and it made it harder to watch as she wiped her eyes when the interviewer asked what your relationship really was. “I don’t fucking know,” was her answer before she walked away. 

Some of them were sweet, memories you shared that made you laugh. Others made you sick with guilt, like when she mentioned your lack of response or you blocking the band. Some just made you sad. And you felt like an idiot for doing this, but after reading the comments, some defending you for not running your socials or phone, or angry with you for the same reason, you played a compilation of the two of you together from the same account. 

Then you called Ellie. 

It rang once before sending you to voicemail and you just hung up. You kept your attention on the video to distract yourself from how much that stung. 

But she called right back. 

You stared at the phone for a moment, seeing the contact poster of the two of you at her last show with you lighting up your screen and feeling your words get caught in your throat as your eyes stung. You grabbed the phone, answering quickly. “Ellie?” It was silent, “Ellie, I just wanted to say, I had no idea… I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I—“ You cleared your throat, trying not to sound like you were about to cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“I thought — I didn’t think you were going to — It feels so good to hear your voice,” was what she settled on after stammering through a few sentences. “You have no idea how much I’ve, just, wanted to talk to you…”

You bit down on your lip as you listened to her. She didn’t sound angry, but she clearly had so much to say to you. Her voice was filled with feeling as she went on, trying to get everything out as if she thought you’d hang up the phone at any minute. You just listened, shutting your eyes and bringing your hand over your face as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to understand why you were so emotional, maybe it was the fact that you misunderstood her so easily, or that your manager had ruined your relationship with her, or maybe it was even that you were just getting to hear her talk after so long, but she paused the moment she heard you trying to calm your breathing. 

“Please don’t cry.” She already knew. “I hate it when you cry and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “Keep talking. What were you saying?” You looked at your computer, auto-playing something else of the two of you. It was clips of you on stage and during interviews, heads on each other's shoulders, hugging, kissing each other’s cheeks, singing together. You pursed your lips, tears coming quicker as you slammed your laptop closed. “Ellie,” you cut her off, biting at your lip as you looked at the empty spot on your bed she used to take some nights, “what are you doing right now?” 

“I’m on my way,” she said quietly, and you could hear her shuffling on the other line. She was probably getting ready to go to sleep, and wake up to no response just like every other time she messaged you. And you would have woken up with no idea she even texted you. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“If you’re already headed to sleep—“

“I’m coming over,” she said. “I’m already in the car, I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

“Okay…” Now you felt bad for making her leave her house, looking outside at the snowfall and sniffling as you tried to wipe your eyes. “I’ll see you soon.” You hung up the phone and groaned at yourself, shoving your head in your pillow. 

You opened your laptop, typing in the song names people speculated she wrote for you and queuing them all. Not one was the one you heard during her first show, and it made you feel even worse by the time the doorbell rang. You moved off of your bed, wiping your eyes and going to the door to buzz her up to your apartment. 

You waited by the door, balls of your feet kicking at the floor as you crossed your arms and waited for her to knock. It was the same rhythm she used to knock in, and where it usually made you smile, it made you cry more. God, you missed her, and you didn’t even realize how much until now. You took too long to open the door and you heard the lock click. She still had her set of keys, and that made you feel worse, too. She’d probably texted you about returning them, and you never got to see it. Nothing was making you feel better as she opened the door, and seeing her face just made it worse. 

“God,” she muttered, immediately bringing her arms around your waist. She tucked her head into your shoulder, shutting her eyes as your arms went around her shoulders. Her hands held you like you’d disappear the minute she let go, thumbs running soothingly back and forth over your shirt. “I missed you so much,” she said. “They all wanted me to get over it, but I knew there was no way — I knew we had something more than just — fuck, I know you better than they do. I know I do.” Her lips brushed your skin with every word. “I missed you so fucking much,” she repeated, hugging you tighter. 

Just her touch made your tears slow to a stop, relaxing into her hold and hugging her so tight, but she didn’t care. She was happy to be back in your arms. Your hand drifted to her hair, cradling her head to your shoulder. You could remember the nights you spent playing with her hair until you fell asleep and the thought made you run your fingers through it. She sighed, pulling her head back but refusing to let you go. 

There was a silence as you moved her hair out of her face, tucking the strands behind her ear. Slowly, your hand cupped her cold, flushed cheek. She leaned into your touch, eyes falling to your lips as your thumb stroked her cheek. 

“Ellie,” you muttered and she hummed, turning her head to kiss the inside of your palm. “I missed you, too,” was all you chose to say despite the wanting in the way you said her name. Her hand took yours as she kissed the inside of your wrist. “So much…” Her kisses trailed up your arm, with more of a meaning behind them than any of the kisses you’d given each other before. 

You moved your hand back to her face, turning her head toward you. She met your eyes, hers shining in the low light. They fell to your lips again and she leaned in, kissing your cheek. She kissed away every tear stain, still wet and warm. She moved closer and closer to your mouth, but never kissed you, kissing away the stains on your other cheek instead. 

Then you turned your head, catching her lips for a brief moment before she pulled back. There was a moment of hesitation, neither of you able to speak before she pressed her lips to yours. They were still cold from being out in the snow, but they warmed as you kissed her back, pressing your body impossibly closer to hers as she sighed into your mouth. She couldn’t tell you how long she had wanted this, but she knew it was long enough that her waiting for you was pathetic.

[jinxed-newyork]

SMOKE & FOG

0.1 Red Smoke

pairing: jinx x reader (romantic) , isha x reader (siblings)

synopsis: Your entire life has been dictated by a debt you owe to Smeech, one that grows with every move you make. He holds your sister and you on a tight leash, one mistake leads to your sister being taken and your only option is to fight or die.

word count: 2.7K

warnings: villainous activity, murder, oppression, mistreatment, blood & gore, hurt/comfort, drugs & drug use, canon violence, suggestive themes, angst, spoilers, cursing, fighting !!

Red smoke filled the air, perhaps it was the blood dribbling that mixed with the air around it, or it was the suffocating rage from every child who watched as their parents, cousins, siblings and friends were torn to shreds by the flying bullets. There was no one who could save the poor souls on that bridge, there was barely anyone left alive except for Vander, his grunts of pain and adrenaline could be heard through the bridge, screams and cries of pain and terror came from those he faced off against and yet after a moment, it just stopped. There was nothing. Just silence. My body was hunched under a rock, shielding my little sister���s extremely frail body in my arms, she was a baby, still wrapped up in a little blanket that we could barely afford, her cries came from every loud noise and all I could do was attempt to shush her– fear and adrenaline being the only reminder of why I was still under here with her. However whenever the loud noises stopped and shooting gave out, what replaced it were footsteps. The relief that coursed through my body was unimaginable. Finally, it was over, win or lose. I didn't care, I just wanted to escape back home with Isha and our parents. 

There was a silence that raged over the bridge as I climbed out, bodies piling on top of others, eyes wide open with dread still stricken upon their face, they all looked scared as if they weren’t ready for death and yet here their lifeless bodies laid. It was sickening, a soft cry escaped my lips as tears welled up in my eyes, where were our parents? Where did they go? They were on this bridge just like everyone else so where were they? I couldn’t run, as much urgency was in my body, I couldn’t move my legs fast enough to form a sprint, I just walked. Shielding the little girl in my arms from all the pain and terror, I wouldn’t let her see this, I wouldn’t let her remember this, I wouldn’t let her grow up in a time like this– it was all gonna change, it was gonna be different whenever she was growing up. Those thoughts in my head were the only thing that kept my head up high as I walked past the bodies. The bodies of friends and our parents, the bodies of those who fought so hard for something that should be a human right, whether they were from Zaun or from Piltover. The bodies of those who fought for Respect. 

The rain is riotous, beating down on the small covers and hoods of those walking the streets of the undercity, no man or woman laid safe. One foot in front of the other, don’t look around. My gaze held towards the floor, looking around would only drag me into the reality I live in. Children on the streets without parents, working for scammers and con artists, insufferable and disgusting but we had to make money somehow. Not everyone was gifted with a silver spoon in their mouth and a warm bed to sleep in, not everyone was given private dance lessons and piping hot food that could feed an entire village for just one meal. Not everyone was born in Piltover and the price? Your life. There was no respect in the city of Zaun, at least not anymore, Vander was killed by Silco in some raging fight that took place in a warehouse and he was the people’s last standing symbol of peace. After Silco took over, shimmer raged through the streets and took over like a disease, even after his death it still runs rampant thanks to his goons. I am one of those goons, I am someone keeping it on the street, money is money and a job is a job, it hurts so many people but I do what I have to do to keep my family safe. 

A small groan of annoyance escaped my mouth. I was only 17 years old but I had the weight of another human laid atop my shoulders. She could be no older than 7 but definitely not younger than 5 years of age, Isha, my sister. I don’t really know when her birthday is, not like we could celebrate it anyways, there are no birth certificates or calendar here, so we just assumed that it's sometime during the end of the year because that's whenever our parents would say happy birthday. 11/16, that is the birthday I have written down for her, the only one we care to acknowledge. My mind filled with grief as I entered the booming building, music blaring from the speakers and the cacophony of deals being made by every wall in his building was overwhelming and sickening. I turned my nose up in disgust (not like I was any better than them), as I turned towards the office building, a high rise, with glass windows to watch over the place as if he was some ghost. Smeech, one of the worst men I have ever met in my entire life, he had no good qualities, I would have rather he not offered me this job at all then let me watch as people waste their lives trying to get even a sniff of shimmer. Good and bad news was that the selling rate was down, more people were getting snatched off the streets while trying to find buyers and the production rate was too high to keep up with the missing sellers so whoever was left had to pick up the pace. 

Caitlyn Kiramman’s enforcers were running circles around us, she made us look like chickens with our heads up off, which wouldn’t have mattered to me if it wasn’t for the fact that I couldn’t keep up. I had too many boxes on me at a time and too many lurkers and followers while trying to do my job, if he kept pushing me like this then I’d certainly get caught. With a heavy knock on his door, I pushed it open without waiting for confirmation– this was important. The rat creature moaned in annoyance upon even seeing my face.

  “What do you want, child?” The sickening smoke of shimmer made its way out of his mouth while he smoked, filling the room with its pungent smell. Had it not been such an addictive drug I would have been turned away but something kept my feet from moving, a small inhale was all I took before turning my head away from his nonsense. “Less materials on my person. I’m carrying way too much cargo with not enough people to give it to. All my regulars are in hiding because of the enforcers or have already been grabbed! I have no one to sell to and walking around with even a drop of shimmer will get people arrested nowadays. What do you think they’ll do to me with eight vials full of it?” Despite the urgency in my voice, I didn’t raise my volume or lose my cool, I knew better than that, I knew my place, I wasn’t gonna be killed over such a trivial thing. I couldn’t be killed, I had to make it back home to raise Isha and make sure that she wasn’t alone, if I didn’t do it then no one would. “You’re a smart enough kid, you can figure it out. You sell the product, you get the money and you give it back to me. You’re already behind on repaying this debt of yours, don’t make me charge you an annoyance fee.” My debt.

I owed him my life because he was willing to take me in and promised that as soon as I paid him off he would let me and Isha go however every time I got even remotely close to freeing us, he would charge me some random out of the blue fee and added it to my tab making it once again out of reach. I knew it was on purpose, I knew he was never truly going to let us go but there was a small hope in that mind that maybe one day I could make enough money so that he doesn’t expect it, so that he has to let us go. A whine escaped my throat as I tried to reason with him, as I pleaded. “But sir-” “Make it a stupidity fee, how are you this incompetent? It’s just business sweetheart, and you’re behind on your dues anyways, there isn’t much room for you to be arguing with me. Out.”

I didn’t say a word after that, I couldn’t, I took whatever strength I had that would carry me out of the room and pushed until it led me out of the building. 

Two hours later and I’ve only sold two vials, one to an elderly woman who looked like she was well on her way to death’s door, I tried to convince her that it wasn’t actually worth it to buy but she didn’t listen, something about being glad that she didn’t have to spend another moment down here was freeing to her and the second vial to someone from Silco’s old crew. They could buy plenty more but they chose not to directly interact with Smeech himself so they went through his buyers and even though we aren’t supposed to sell it to them, I did anyway. I tossed the gold coins up into the air with a smile, I completely overcharged him but who cares? “When did we say selling to Silco’s crew was back on the table, blighter?” Debt collectors, they roamed the streets while we were making deals, my head wasn’t in the right place, I completely forgot. Stuffing the coins into the small bag across my waist, I shrugged. “What’s it to you? We’re all charlatans, are we going to bypass the fact that you guys are charging children for crimes they didn’t commit to keep them in your debt? Or the old people you trick into owing their entire lives to you knowing that they won’t be able to afford it?”

My teeth clicked in arrogance, I held nothing over them but calling them out felt good to roll off the tongue, they needed to be checked every now and then too. “You’re just blood thirsty animals.” They scoffed at me, scoffed, my presence to them was insignificant, that I was aware of but seeing it play out in front of me still stabbed at my heart a little bit. “You forget yourself blighter. Perhaps we should.. remind you? Yeah?” The confirmation wasn’t for me and yet I couldn’t stop my head from shaking. This was going to end in bloodshed, there was no avoiding it but I wasn’t scared, I couldn't be scared of them. One thing went through my mind,  I have to get home to Isha. My hands raised to cover my face, eyes peeking out behind my clenched fists to stare them down, I was ready for a fight.

I shouldn’t have been so naive to think that I could fight all three of them at once, however it was the only option. The taller gentleman rushed towards me first, swinging his arms in whatever way they would move towards my body. I looked like a child compared to them, they were unnaturally tall and buff and their suits didn’t hide it at all. My body dipped towards the floor as his hands rammed into the wall, I swore I could feel the ground shake, but that didn’t waver my spirit. I struck his chest with every force in my body, it wasn’t a lot but enough to knock him back up against that very same corner, not even a second to breath as I was bombarded with another man racing towards me, his palm struck my side, launching me into the wall. It cracked upon impact and my body felt like it shattered, every limb hurt to move, with a split second I moved to the right, his second punch landing into the wall right next to me. My eyes expanded and my pupils dilated and I pulled away from the wall and steadied my body and stance once again, but arms wrapped around me, a crushing weight that stayed on top of me and kept me in place. A scream erupted from my throat as I tried to escape, struggling in every direction as the weight on top of me only got worse, it got tighter, more restricting until crack. The vials. The shimmer, it was still in my bag, how many vials did he crush? Was it seeping into my skin? My mind went blank, the weight was no longer crushing  me but I didn’t know what was happening? My face connected with the floor, was I dropped or did I hurt him? I didn’t mean to hurt them, even though they probably could have killed me. The intention wasn’t to get anyone hurt besides a simple warning. 

When my eyes opened again all of them were on the floor, blood spilled out of wounds I didn’t remember making and my hands were covered in it. I tried wiping my face but it only smeared the blood already there, what have I done? Before I could make sense of anything the screeching from an enforcer came from the other side of the alleyway. I shook my head, this wasn’t me, I didn’t do this! I was innocent! Why wouldn’t my mouth open to explain? I opened up the pouch and raised one of the vials, I still had four safe but two of them were cracked, those were probably the two affecting my mind, my heart, my body. I could hear my heart in my ears, the thumping and beating as if I was inhuman, was I still human at this point? As soon as I raised the vial of shimmer, their guns were out? Panic was sewn into my nerves, I couldn’t get shot, were they gonna kill me? Leave my body for dead? Would I ever be found? Isha. My mind went blank and my eyes were bloodshot, I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t see straight, I blacked out. 

When I woke all I could feel was crimson dripping down my hand, the puddle beneath me only growing wider, spreading through the cracks in the small alleyway. Enforcers. Dead. Three Enforcers were dead and three debt collectors right next to them. The topsiders would hear news of this soon and my boss would hear about his debt collectors being missing but I couldn’t worry about it, what was the last thing I was thinking about? Isha? Isha. Where was she? Where is my sister? I couldn’t care less about the head I bashed into the wall just a moment ago or the knife I plunged into another man’s throat or the Enforcer’s gun that I lodged into a man’s side as a distraction before his untimely death. Smeech’s debt collectors would probably be after her especially if they were after me, they knew where I was so they certainly had to know where she was. 

I needed to get back to my sister. My sister. My sister, Isha, I need to get back to her. Ichor running down my arm no longer bothered me, the ever growing pain in my abdomen only lingered as I ran and yet I didn’t stop. I couldn’t even remember how I got that injury but I couldn’t stop, my legs carried me to the last place I saw her. Three more dead debt collectors (this seemed to be a brand), shot straight through the head. Clean. Not a single mistake, completely intentional, whoever made the shot knew exactly what they were doing. A waft of pink smoke wavered from the body, it was fre- pink? shit. Jinx. There was only one person in town creating such imagery and also being such a great shot, no enforcers were in town (not anymore) and to be honest none of them were this great of a shot even if it was close range. The wanted posters of her face made her look psychotic, terrifying, right on brand to what the topsiders thought everyone looked like. I couldn’t let this go, I was still alive and the dead men meant that my sister was still out there too. 

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the very first chapter!

taglist ; @llycrow @katethejinxwife @hank-girl @ayedomino0 @jiunxo @vivispace @d-demqn

[kesujo]

Chapter 1: Miss Personal Trainer

This year was the year Kang Seojun would get his shit together. He would learn more recipes and eat healthier, he would start working out and craft himself a body of the gods, and he would finally get a girlfriend and lose his virginity. After finally being able to move out of his parent’s house, after enjoying his newfound freedom, he admittedly slacked off—but that would change. With the new year came newly discovered motivation, and that started with the year subscription he purchased to the gym located near his apartment complex.

And boy was Seojun glad he chose to do that, because the personal trainer assigned to him was smoking hot. Seojun had seen his fair share of scantily clad idols, actresses, and models, but they all paled in comparison to her. She had perfect, milky-white skin and a slim physique but by no means was a slacker in the curves department. The way her formfitting gym wear followed the soft curves on her body, accentuating the fullness of her breasts and her hips, was absolutely sinful. He immediately wondered what running his hand across her curvaceous body would feel like, not long after catching himself and chastising his dirty mind for thinking about a woman he just met that way.

She introduced herself as Kim Taeyeon, and despite being about half a head shorter than himself, she gave off an extremely mature, knows-what-she’s-doing aura, which stood in stark contrast to her baby-faced appearance. Was Taeyeon in her thirties already or was she still in her early twenties? Seojun secretly hoped for the former as he wasn’t particularly keen on dating someone more than five years younger than him. Not that he ever stood a chance with her—on a scale of 1 to 10, she was probably an 11 in sexiness, cuteness, and general attractiveness. Seojun figured if he spent a lot of money and tried really hard, he was maybe a 7.

“So, Seojun, what’s your goal with working out?”

Her silvery voice was another thing: it was smooth, like warm butter, the words just seeming to flow out of her mouth like water from a steady creek. It was disarming, dangerously so; Seojun felt like he could listen to it all day. He then wondered what it sounded like moaning his name, shortly after catching himself with the salacious thought—what was with him today? He wasn’t normally like this. Was he that desperate?

“Um, I—” he stopped short, his heart skipping a beat at the delightful sight of Taeyeon giggling for a brief moment.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, please continue.”

Seojun hesitated, briefly wondering if she was laughing at him. “—I just thought that with the new year, that I should actually dedicate myself to working out and get a nice physique.”

“That’s admirable—sorry about earlier, I wasn’t laughing at you, I just suddenly thought of something funny.”

Seojun was perhaps a bit too relieved upon hearing that. “Oh, no worries! I didn’t take it that way.”

“The first thing we should do is create a workout plan accordingly. If you want to bulk up, you need to commit to changing your entire lifestyle. Are you prepared for that?”

He nodded. “Protein shakes, eating meals of only grilled chicken, rice, and steamed broccoli, right? Stuff like that?”

She nodded. “Right, something like that…” It may have just been Seojun, but he swore that a gleam appeared in Taeyeon’s eyes when she trailed off. He felt himself naturally shuddering; as sexy as the expression was, the sensation that passed through him wasn’t of arousal, but more akin to a primal fear. Like Taeyeon was a lion and he, a wounded antelope. “…but that’s all really hard work. There’s another way to achieve that goal, but you’ll have to just trust me.”

Honestly, Seojun was having a hard time focusing solely on his personal trainer’s words: the way she was holding her arms at stomach level meant that they inadvertently pushed her ample chest together and outwards, letting Seojun know that they were bigger than what the outfit initially conveyed. He felt bad for being so distracted by it and was thankfully able to catch most of what Taeyeon said, but the added factor of being completely alone in the building only added to the growing sense of anxiety and resulting self-consciousness he was feeling. When it came time for him to answer, Seojun had to actively wipe his mind from such thoughts, fearing they might leak into his response. “Oh, yeah, I would love to!”

He caught Taeyeon giggling again, a bewildered smile unknowingly forming on his face. “Great! Before we get started, I need to test you to see if you’re eligible. Would you come follow me home?”

Seojun found himself choking on thin air. “Wh—What?”

In the few minutes they spent, Seojun’s mind had already gone wild with fantasies. But not even in the wildest ones would he have dared considering Taeyeon taking him home.

“No? I knew it, it’s too strange to ask a client I just met to follow me home…” the adorable pout adorning her lips and the crestfallen expression on her eyes twisted at Seojun’s heartstrings.

“No! It’s not—” Seojun, with all his might, tried not to get his hopes up. If anything, she just proved herself to have pure intentions. “—it’s not that—well, I mean, it is a little weird, but I still trust you.” Even as disarmingly sexy Taeyeon was, Seojun had his inhibitions. What if she was secretly insane? What if she was just leading him to his doom? Seeing Taeyeon’s elated expression vaporized every last one of thoughts, leaving but one thin strand of doubt and self-preservation lingering. “But, um, what are we going to be doing?”

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not like a psychopath or a serial killer or anything, it’s just I can’t conduct the test here with what we have.” There was something about her chipper, excited attitude that annihilated that last strand of hesitation. “Oh, and don’t worry about the test, it won’t hurt. In fact, I think you’ll like it quite a bit.”

There it was again. That mysterious, mischievous, sexy gleam in her eyes: a predator eyeing its prey. But as soon as it appeared, so quickly did it disappear, leaving Seojun to wonder if he was just seeing things.

“That sounds great. Are we going right now…?”

She nodded, walking past Seojun, grabbing his hand along the way. His heart skipped another few beats at the feeling of her pillowy, warm hand sliding into his own, her delicate fingers locking around his hand. “Depending on the results of the test, I’ll decide on your training regimen. Did you drive here?”

The question went right over Seojun’s head, too preoccupied with staring at the impossibly smooth hand gripping his. Shortly after, he noticed another more delectable piece of eye candy in the corner of his eyes. His attention summarily shifted towards it: Taeyeon’s softly swaying hips, her shapely butt, molded nicely by the black yoga pants she was wearing, amping up his heartbeat so much he could hear the frantic pumping of the organ in his ears.

Taeyeon’s delightful giggle again reached his ears, Seojun’s concentration breaking, his face turning a deep shade of pink when he looked up to see Taeyeon stopped, head turned around and looking directly at him. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude, I—”

“It’s quite alright.” At this point, Seojun had to be sure it wasn’t just him. That same gleam shone again in her eyes, this time mixed with a bit of a playful sparkle. “Did you like what you see?”

Again, Seojun was left bewildered. Wasn’t Taeyeon about to scream at him for objectifying her? Unless she was attracted to—no, there was no way that was the case.

“Y-Yes,” he admitted, his gaze locked fiercely to the carpeted floor of the empty gym, the tips of his ears undergoing the inferno of his embarrassment and shame. “You have a very nice body.” There was an immense desire to lift his head just a little bit to catch another glimpse of what lay in front of him as they continued walking; it felt as though someone placed a super magnet on his chin and another on the ceiling, but he fought it with every ounce of willpower he had.

This wasn’t like him. Sure, he was a virgin and never had a girlfriend, sure he masturbated regularly to the idols he looked up to, but he was never so disrespectful to a woman when she was right in front of him. What was wrong with him?

“Thank you!” Seojun, again, found himself surprised; Taeyeon’s response of gratitude was so sincere, he almost believed that Taeyeon wasn’t the least bit angry or disgusted or fed up with his behavior. “As I said, did you drive here?”

“No, my apartment is within walking distance.”

Taeyeon nodded in satisfaction, continuing to walk, her hand still firmly linked to his. Seojun let himself get pulled along, his eyes fiercely trained onto the ground, not daring move his eyes up even one millimeter. “We’re taking my car. It’s a bit of a long drive, so I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I didn’t have any other plans for today.”

“How about tomorrow?”

As often as Taeyeon was catching Seojun off guard, one would’ve thought that there was a point at which he would stop getting surprised. Her follow up question was not that point. “Hm? Tomorrow?” It was only then that Seojun raised his head, making sure to lock his eyes on the silky hair on the back of her head. Wow, it looked so soft, like … no. He wasn’t about to let himself slip down another rabbit hole of fetishization of a woman he met not minutes ago.

“Hmm, never mind~” she sang, pulling the door open, a blast of cold air greeting them. “Let’s just do one thing at a time.”

“Ok.”

Hearing his stiff reply, Taeyeon let out a deeper, fuller laugh—jarring to be sure, but equally adorable and endearing. “Why do you sound so professional?” She turned around, Seojun quickly diverting his gaze. She cupped the hand attached to her with her other hand, rubbing it gently. “Did me catching you staring at my butt embarrass you?” To this, Seojun only gave Taeyeon a curt nod, sending her into another explosion of giggles. “There’s no need to be shy about that! There’s nothing wrong with appreciating a fine ass, even I do that from time to time. Come on, my car’s nearby.”

Hearing her hearty reassurance and her genuine smile was all Seojun needed to open back up; although he still struggled with looking at her while in the car, they made light talk in the hour-long drive to Taeyeon’s residence. In that time, Seojun learned that Taeyeon had already experimented with many different jobs (which reassured him that she wasn’t the early-twenty-something he feared her to be) before settling on this one as a personal trainer, and how she liked the job because it gave her the opportunity to work with people from all walks of life. The idea of Taeyeon working with other men unsettled him, which he knew was bizarre since he had no right to be protective over a woman he didn’t even know last week.

Seojun then shared about his job at an IT products company, how the work was rather mundane but interesting in its own little ways. Upon further prompting, he told her about his education, how he majored in engineering, how he had trouble finding a job at first and how he had to live at his parent’s house because of it, and how relieved he was after finally being able to move out and how going to the gym was the first step of his plan to truly grow into adulthood.

Although her attention stayed on the driving, Seojun could tell Taeyeon was listening attentively by the way she occasionally nodded while he talked and how her gaze landed on him whenever they pulled up to a red light. It was nice, so nice that Seojun had to repeatedly remind himself to not get his hopes up, that Taeyeon was just a really kind woman and that these things didn’t mean she was into him. But it was so difficult, every time their eyes accidentally met and she would shoot him a dazzling smile and his heart would just leap out of his chest, he felt his grip on reality slipping further and further away.

Thankfully, they arrived at her residence before that happened, and when they did, Seojun’s jaw dropped. While it was no mansion, it was certainly bigger than most houses he’s seen before, not to mention how large and fenced off area was: the nearest neighbor had to be at least 500 meters away on each side. “Here we are, home sweet home,” she announced, pulling into the garage. Was she rich? It certainly seemed so. Seojun was just happy Taeyeon didn’t seem to mind his blatant sexual harassment from earlier, lest he spend a few years in jail with the power and influence she could probably wield.

Seojun followed the tiny beauty inside, unable to help but notice a distinct lack of furniture. While the dining room had a table and chairs, the kitchen equipped with stools, there seemed to be not much else: it gave off the vibe of being not very much lived in. Another thing Seojun found a little strange was how completely unaffected the frail-looking woman seemed to be by the cold weather despite wearing clothes that exposed her entire midriff, both shoulders Taeyeon stopped at what appeared to be her living room. “Here we are.”

“Um, should I wait here while you get your things?”

“Hmm?” Taeyeon’s eyes bore into him, so much so that a shudder inadvertently traveled down his spine. “Things?”

“I-I mean, your, um, your, uh, testing … stuff.”

Kang Seojun didn’t know why he suddenly unable to speak, nor did he know why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable and hot. To his chagrin, he could feel his erection spring up with life, to which he uncomfortably shifted under the ardent gaze of the older woman, embarrassment flaring back up.

“Hmm, but I have everything I need,” her voice lowered as she closed in on him, Seojun unable to even stumble backwards, his entire body inexplicably frozen. She raised herself on her toes, placing her head right next to his ear, whispering the final two words, “right here.”

This time, a powerful shiver jolted throughout his body like an electric shock, Seojun letting out a barely audible gasp. Taeyeon’s hands made contact with his arms, a jolt of electricity shooting out from the point of contact, a moan escaping the red-faced man’s lips as she transitioned slowly from rubbing his arm to his shoulders back down to his chest where her supple breasts lightly pressed against him.

“T-T-Tae-Taeyeon, what—what are y-you doi-doing?”

“I’m testing you,” she replied in a soft, sultry voice, her eyes never once leaving Seojun’s downcast ones. “You said you thought I had a nice body, didn’t you?”

At this point, Seojun felt like he barely had the ability to speak, hindered by his arousal and excitement and anticipation, but equally so his anxiety and confusion and embarrassment. There’s no way someone like Taeyeon, someone who undoubtedly could take pick of the litter amongst men she wanted to have sex with, would choose an average person, a virgin, like him. So why him? Was she teasing him?

“Well?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Tell me, Seojun…” her deep, sultry voice almost seemed to echo inside his head. At the moment, he felt no different than what he imagined an injured antelope would feel trying to hobble away from a ravenous lion. “…do you want to feel it?”

Kang Seojun was awkward around women, he would say, but even he had caught onto the signs of what was happening. Even still, hearing the words coming directly out of Taeyeon’s mouth was a completely different matter. It was only then that Seojun locked eyes with Taeyeon, something that proved to be a fatal mistake.

All it took was the one glance, and he felt completely and utterly hypnotized. The rapid pounding in his ear of his heartbeat, the warm feeling of her hands along his chest, her sizable breasts brushing against his upper body, every sensation he was feeling felt like they had been simultaneously amped up to 11 and dulled down at the same time.

“Y-Yes.”

Taeyeon smiled even wider at his response. “What a good boy you are…” she cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. Seojun flinched, the cheek burning at the point her lips met it, as if someone had poured lava on his face. He didn’t even register that Taeyeon had taken a few steps back until he caught some movement in the corner of his eyes.

Black wings sprouted from her back, unfolding with the sound of a soft flutter, like a bedsheet being unfurled from the dryer, and stretching many arm lengths out on each side. Horns simultaneously sprouted from her head, a thin tail springing out from behind and wound around her legs like a snake. “Mmm,” she groaned, the wings spreading out, following the motion of her outstretched arms, her tail likewise straightening out. When she pulled her arms back in, the wings and tail followed suit. “That’s better.”

In that confusing swirl of emotions he was feeling, fear suddenly joined them. “Wha—Wha—you—your—wings, tail—…are you a demon?”

Taeyeon laughed heartily at Seojun’s completely dumbfounded expression and response. “Mmhm.” Seojun thought he was going to regret making such an accusation and almost tried to take back the words as soon as they left his mouth. What he was not expecting was for Taeyeon to confirm it so quickly. But, despite what he was seeing, despite what was right in front of his eyes, he still couldn’t believe it. “More accurately, a succubus.”

Kang Seojun’s mind spun until he was left light-headed. A succubus? That certainly explained a few things, except for the small detail that they didn’t exist. Succubae were just myths, folklore legends created by lustful men who tried explaining away their infidelity to their wives, or something like that. But they didn’t actually have basis in reality. Right? … But how else was he to explain the body-length, midnight-black wings anchored to Taeyeon’s back, the dark brown horns growing out of her head, and the tail swishing about her feet?

“Come here.”

The way Taeyeon purred the words out struck him; they resonated inside his mind, not so much a suggestion but an order he felt extremely compelled to obey. Seojun felt his feet drag across the floor, his eyes locked onto the winged, tailed, horned woman—demon—before him. He stopped when he felt Taeyeon’s hands reach down to grab his, the tail whipping around and resting on the backside of his legs.

“You smell so sinfully delicious, it was a real stroke of luck that I managed to find you,” Taeyeon cooed while leaning into him, her surprisingly strong tail pulling him forward. The bewildered young man stumbled forward into the seductress’s arms.

Feeling Taeyeon’s breasts more firmly against his body and her hands wrap around his torso went by almost unnoticed by the now properly and utterly terrified man. “Delicious? Wait, you-you’re going to eat me?”

Seeing his wide-eyed reaction, Taeyeon couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “No, silly. I’m a succubus. When I refer to something smelling ‘delicious’, I mean your semen.”

Hearing the word coming from her was one thing, hearing the provocative way she said was another, but realizing the, in retrospect, obvious implications of it positively blew away any semblance of fear he held, his arousal coming back in full force.

He groaned under his breath, the raw amount of lust he was experiencing overwhelming him all at once. “My-my what?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me, boy.” Her tone took upon a more playful attitude, a playful smile teasing at her lips. “You’ve been imaging what it’d be like to fuck me since you first laid your eyes on me.” Seojun was speechless, only feeling his ears burn a shade brighter. “I admit that was me trying to prime you, although I was impressed with your ability to quell your thoughts even after I grabbed your hand. Most men wouldn’t be able to resist at that point to the degree you did, you know. Especially not virgins like you.” Usually, Seojun might’ve taken that word as an insult, but there was a certain way Taeyeon said the word, the way she seemed to treat the word with respect and even seemed to revere it somewhat, that made him think otherwise. “I really tried my best—well, almost tried my best, but the most I could get out of you was a couple of stares. That’s impressive; I haven’t seen anyone with as powerful a resistance to me in five centuries, maybe six.”

Seojun didn’t know what it was with Taeyeon’s words, but the confident way she spoke them while holding about her a dignified maturity, Seojun found himself immediately believing them: that she really induced those out-of-character lustful thoughts (which, honestly, Seojun was all too willing to believe; he was willing to take any explanation if it meant that he indeed was not that desperate), that his resistance really was impressive, and that she was at least a few couple of hundred, if not a couple millennia, years old. That certainly explained the mature sophistication she seemed to exude and the supremely confident body posture she always had, even when standing a half head shorter than him.

“I think you should be rewarded for your hard work, shouldn’t you?” Taeyeon’s suggestive purring was too much; Seojun could barely contain himself. He was so aroused, he didn’t know what to do with himself: his knees were shaking, his heart palpitating, his penis painfully erect, the muscles on him limbs tensed, it was like he wasn’t even in control of his own body anymore. However, somehow, he wasn’t jumping her, and found that it wasn’t his own willpower that was holding him back but Taeyeon herself. Taeyeon, who looked to weigh 15 to 20 kilograms less than himself minus the wings and horn, was holding him in place so tightly he couldn’t move a muscle. “Would you like that? For me to reward you?”

It was this that allowed him to understand that Taeyeon was in complete control, and while Seojun might’ve ordinarily been inappreciative of his first sexual encounter with a woman controlling him so thoroughly, the fact that it was Taeyeon meant the thought barely phased him. “Please.”

A wicked grin befell Taeyeon’s face, this time that predatory gleam shining proudly and clearly in her eyes. The lion had finally sunk its powerful teeth into its prey. “Good answer.” Her tail tugged down his pants and boxers in one motion with the strength of two hands, Seojun’s boner springing free, proudly prodding her cottony frame-hugging pants. He didn’t even think about this until just then, but his insecurity about his size popped up along with his erection.

“Sorry, it’s small…”

“Mmm mm,” Taeyeon replied, patting his cheeks reassuringly, “Size doesn’t matter to a succubus. We adjust to our partner’s size. That way, we can enjoy the dick of any man without qualms.”

Maybe it was the simple fact that Taeyeon was reassuring her, or maybe it was the firm way she did so, but Seojun felt the burden of not being able to please her dissipate. “O-Oh, that’s good.”

He suddenly felt a rush of wind and, in the next blink of an eye, Seojun found himself sitting down on the couch that was previously behind Taeyeon, the succubus kneeling between his legs, her hands firmly placed on his thighs, her face situated a good meter or two away from his manhood. Her wings floated behind her in a more tucked position; definitely less intimidating, and now that he was starting to get used to it, a strangely arousing sight. “Mmm, fuck,” the lyrical moan sent another anticipatory wave of arousal into Seojun’s body, “You smell so good, I can’t wait to feel your hot semen down my throat. You better be prepared, Seojun, because I’m going to wring your balls dry.”

His dick strained even harder against his body in reaction to the filthy words leaving Taeyeon’s shimmering, luscious lips. “Shit,” Seojun muttered, his fists clenching tightly at his sides, seeing her eyes clouded in lust trained fiercely onto his veiny cock. He wanted to do nothing more than to take Taeyeon’s head and shove his dick inside her mouth, but with the strength and speed Taeyeon just demonstrated to him, he wasn’t about to take any chances with her.

“Be a good boy and cum lots for me, ok?”

“Wait!” It was while Taeyeon’s hands were closing in onto the hardened organ between his legs that a thought suddenly occurred to him. She stopped, big eyes peering up at him, her tail swishing around in excitement also freezing in place. “I-I’m not forfeiting my soul for this or anything, am I?”

Taeyeon giggled again, tickled by the overactive imagination of her prey. “No, nothing like that; souls are the territory of other demons. All you’ll lose is some semen, which you’ll have replenished by tomorrow night anyway.”

Seojun nodded, Taeyeon taking that as a go-ahead to continue. Her palm was the first thing to make contact with his engorged member, to which Seojun let out a loud moan, his brows furrowing at the sight of her small hand rubbing the length of his shaft, its delicate fingers gingerly making their way around its circumference. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, his legs tensing and his toes curling as another wicked grin appearing on Taeyeon’s face as both hands firmly grasped his cock and gave it a few pumps. “Fuck,” he moaned, unabashed in the ecstatic pleasure shooting up his spine. All the lonely nights spent by himself paled like the light from a firefly to the blazing afternoon sun in the face of the beautiful seductress kneeling before him, her expert hands inducing an amount of pleasure he didn’t realize was possible.

Taeyeon leaned her head over, her wings casting a shadow on his legs, hovering her mouth just centimeters above the swollen tip of his dick, gathering saliva inside her mouth and dribbling it onto the sensitive sex organ. “Ah, shit,” the moan inadvertently escaped Seojun’s lips, the warm liquid slathering onto his cock sending an electric shock into his entire body. A shudder rolled through up his torso and down his arms and legs, his dick twitching in kind at the sudden contact. Taeyeon smiled in satisfaction at his reaction, using her hands to coat his manhood with the viscous, translucent bodily fluid. Seojun moaned again, throwing his head back in pleasure, his fists tightly clenched at his sides, the ecstasy coalescing into the precum that dribbled out of his dick.

Upon seeing this, Taeyeon’s eyes shone with glee. “Oh, how kind of you; an appetizer, just for me?”

Seojun whipped his gaze back down just in time to see Taeyeon’s head dive down, rubbing her hot tongue across the tip, collecting every last drop of pre-ejaculate onto the pink muscle before planting upon it a quick kiss. Seojun hissed, his body jumping at the sensation, his breaths turning into pants. Taeyeon’s hands never once stopped pumping, gliding along the slick length of Seojun’s cock thanks to the lubrication provided by her mouth, her throat flexing as the first bit of her meal traveled down her throat. Taeyeon’s eyes widened, freezing momentarily, her entire body experiencing a rolling shiver of ecstasy. “Fuck, that’s so much better than I imagined,” she groaned, her voice full of lust and impatience. Her eyes crossed, an even more fierce look of lust clouding her facial expression, her hands resuming its prior task with even more ferocity than before. Seojun let out a surprised yelp, another jolt of electricity caused by another wave of ecstatic pleasure causing his entire body to jump. Tilting her head down again, she reapplied the warm lubricant, Seojun jumping again at the feeling of the warm, viscous liquid coating his cock.

“Mmm, you’re so close, I can feel it,” she cooed, her face drawing closer to the erect member trapped inside her warm hands, gliding along its length with ease. “You want to stuff your veiny cock into my mouth and shoot your seed down my throat, don’t you? Wouldn’t you like to do nothing more than to fill my mouth with your hot cum? I offered you a reward previously, but don’t you want to collect it already?”

“Yes, please…” Seojun half grunted, half moaned, his willpower teetering on the edge of abandoning all notion of ‘rationality’ and ‘self-preservation’ to grab the succubus’s head and force it all the way down his pulsating erection.

“Why don’t you do whatever you want with me then~” the smiling seductress sang, the soft, seductive sound seeming to sway about ceaselessly inside his skull.

Taking the suggestion—or directive, Seojun couldn’t tell at this point—as an indication that he could take the reins, both hands shot out and grabbed fistfuls of her silky, silver hair and pushed her face downwards, directly onto his awaiting penis. “Mmph, fuck—” the initial entrance of his penis into the wet warmth of her tight mouth sent a series of ecstatic shudders of pleasure all throughout his body, his fingers tightening around the silky locks of hair, but soon was amplified at the feeling of her skillful tongue wrapping around his length, that warmth from feeling her saliva dribbled onto his cock now spread across the entire surface area of his penis. Her head obediently bobbed up and down with the rhythm of his thrusts, her wings moving in conjunction with their lust-charged movements. “—fuck, god, you’re so good—” he could feel the familiar sensation of a building orgasm on the horizon, the sensation only pushing him to thrust harder and faster into the lustful demon’s mouth, abandoning all pretense of embarrassment for orgasming so quickly. “Taeyeon, shit, I’m close, I’m so—uugh!”

Letting out something between a yell and a moan, Seojun’s hips pushed his cock as far back into the waiting mouth of the satisfied succubus, ropes of his thick semen depositing directly into the back of her mouth and down her esophagus. Taeyeon’s lips were tightly sealed around the perimeter of his cock, her throat flexing impressively as she gulped down every stream of his seed in stride, making sure not to waste a single drop of the immaculate sustenance. Only after the last of his ejaculate emptied into her mouth did she let go of her vice grip of his dick.

Her breath deepened, her wings flaring out, her entire body burning with life, as if someone had just splashed her with a bucket full of ice-cold water as she was about to doze off, her entire being consumed with an even greater lust and desire. Seojun’s grip on the back of her head loosened, his body slumping against the couch listlessly, grimacing as Taeyeon came up for air and licked the entire surface area of his cock one more time for good measure. “Mmm, I haven’t had such a good feast from a human in so long.”

“I’m glad—w-wait, Taeyeon?”

Seojun’s eyes widened as he watched her snake her way up his body, straddling his waist with her luscious thighs, her hands sneaking under his shirt and, with a firm tug, ripped it clean off his upper body. “I want more,” she whispered. It was only when Seojun felt Taeyeon rub her wetness onto his leg that he realized Taeyeon had already taken off her pants, her tail looping behind her and pulling the last bit of clothing left off her body.

“Oh god…” the words spilled out of his mouth, arousal returning with force upon seeing her perky tits spill out of the restrictive material. The combination of that and feeling her hot, sticky juices rubbing dangerously close to his groin caused his erection to flare back to full tilt. Now that they were naked in front of him, adorned at the peaks with pink, hardened nipples, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. Of course, he had seen boobs in pictures and videos before, but seeing them in person, and that they were Taeyeon’s, was a completely other story.

“You like them?” She teased, shaking her upper body playfully, the bountiful mounds jiggling deliciously in response. Seojun simply nodded, to which Taeyeon replied, “You can have them after giving me a second helping.”

Without warning, Taeyeon lifted her hips and plunged her vagina down onto Seojun’s cock.

“FUCK!”

Seojun’s back arched all the way, his head involuntarily thrown back, the loud sound pushed out of his throat as the surge of pleasure overtook his body.

“Congrats on losing your virginity,” Taeyeon whispered to him, cupping his face gently before pulling him into a fierce kiss.

Seojun felt paralyzed by ecstasy, her soft and warm lips smothering him and massaging his own, the tight, hot walls of Taeyeon’s pussy slathering his already slick cock with other bodily fluids, her vaginal lips depositing her fluids onto his crotch with every hot connection of their groins, drenched with the honey of the domineering woman. Taeyeon’s movements were ferocious, her naked tits pressed firmly into the young man’s bare chest, her lips and tongue overpowering his in an instant, her hips propelling her tiny frame up and down the ex-virgin’s dick. Seojun’s hands naturally found themselves cupping her round, shapely ass, an action that only spurred the succubus on more. Taeyeon’s tail crawled up his right arm, softly guiding the fingers of his right hand towards her puckered, unoccupied hole.

Taeyeon broke the kiss, Seojun barely able to see amidst the sea of pleasure and lust he was drowning in. “Are you ready?”

“For—for what?” The split second after he spoke, he felt the two fingers nearing her other entrance melding together, elongating into what he somehow knew was another penis. “What the fuck?”

“What are you waiting for, my ass isn’t going to fuck itself,” Taeyeon quipped, grinning at the adorable, perplexed reaction of the young man below her.

His arousal soon drowned out his sense of reasoning, and the suggestion was all he needed to completely disregard the anomaly of a second penis inexplicably growing from his two fingers. Instead, he quickly found the unattended hole and plunged it inside.

“Shit, shit shit, fuck, oh my god—” Seojun let out a barrage of swears, the added feeling of Taeyeon’s tight asshole joining the already overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation of her pussy clamping on his cock. Taeyeon’s back arched, pushing her voluptuous breasts further against him.

“Mmm, fuck…” Taeyeon’s melodic moans soon joined the chorus of Seojun’s own moans, adding onto the layer of arousal that was starting to overwhelm his body fatigued by the first orgasm. “…do you want the third one to be a pussy or an asshole?”

Before Seojun could ask, the fingers on his left hand similarly started to meld together, elongating into another firmly erect penis. “Uh, um, I-I don’t know…” He could barely process the question, much less dedicate the brainpower needed to make a decision.

“Hmm, another pussy it is.” Again, her tail guided the newly formed cock into the space just above her asshole, soon meeting another pair of flopping wet pussy lips, eagerly awaiting its guest. Without hesitation, Seojun pushed the third member into her third orifice, the resulting explosion of pleasure causing him to blackout for a brief moment.

“Mmm, you like that? Feeling two pussies and an asshole fucking your cock at the same time? Feeling my hot, tight walls on your dick?” Taeyeon’s hot breath heated up his ear, Seojun rendered completely unable to speak from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure assaulting every fiber of his being. “Your cock is hitting my cervix with each stroke, god, fuck, I feel so fucking full with three of your cocks fucking me so hard. Yeah, hmmph, fuck all of my holes harder Seojun, pump your dick deep inside me and fill all three of my slutty holes with your thick cum.”

While Seojun could feel his arms start to give way, he pushed through. The looming feeling of a following orgasm drove his body wild with adrenaline, his arms burning with the strain of pumping so furiously into the wanton woman. His chest heaved with the huge gulps of air his body demanded, Taeyeon’s erect nipples poking firmly at his skin at the apex of each breath. As he neared his orgasm, he could feel both his own and Taeyeon’s movements grow more erratic. The previously cold room now felt blazing hot, the only sound to be heard being the wet sound of skin slapping against skin, the chorus of their combined moans of lust, and the ruffling sound of Taeyeon’s wings moving in conjunction with the movement of the succubus bouncing ferociously on Seojun’s cock. He could only muster a grunt in warning before he exploded all at once, all three holes sucking up the delectable meal at once.

“Uunggh, fuck,” Taeyeon exploded simultaneously, the ecstasy overwhelming her superhuman senses, her hands vacating the back of Seojun’s head and onto the cushiony backrests of the couch she crushed inside her grip, a tsunami of juices flooding out to match the streams of semen flowing into the satisfied succubus. “God, oh my god, fuck, it’s too much…” she panted, even after Seojun’s orgasm subsided, her entire body burning hot with the acquisition of such fine sustenance.

Seojun, on the other hand, was completely and utterly drained—he lost all ability to move, his untransformed arms dropping to his sides and his head onto the backrest of the couch. It was almost scary, how little strength he had left: it felt like he was half-dead, barely having the strength to open his eyes. He never felt this drained after masturbating, what was going on?

“Ah, fuck, Seojun…” Taeyeon remained panting atop the corpse of a man that remained below her, still trying to take in the influx of ecstasy from the consumption of three simultaneous loads of Seojun’s cum. “…ah, god, I’m going to cum again, holy fuuuck!” The panting moan transformed into an ecstatic scream, another tidal wave of lust and pleasure washing over the demon lost in her own desire. Her body vibrated violently against the lifeless man, sending his cock awash with a second tsunami of her nectar.

When her orgasm finally subsided a minute later, Taeyeon collapsed onto the taller man, her head resting on his shoulder. “Oh my god, I haven’t orgasmed so easily in so many centuries, but never before in my millennia of living have I orgasmed twice from one feeding. You should be proud, Seojun.”

When he didn’t respond, Taeyeon lifted her head to see the lifeless, pale expression in his face. “Oh my god! I—I’m so sorry, I forgot you were—oh my god—…”

When Seojun next regained consciousness, he found himself laying on a soft bed, wrapped up in a warm, thick blanket. His consciousness immediately started to drift off again when he realized that something felt wrong: his bed wasn’t this soft.

His eyes opened and he jolted awake, his eyes scanning his environment to find a naked Taeyeon laying beside him, watching him with a bemused expression. “Good morning, Seojun,” her honey warm voice eased the panic in his voice. It wasn’t long before he found his eyes drifting onto her perky tits and the firm, pink nubs sitting atop their peaks, feeling his erection starting to grow once again. Noticing this, Taeyeon giggled, sitting up along with the equally naked man. “You really like my tits, don’t you?”

He blinked, turning his head away, his face red. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize, you can look at them all you want,” she insisted, her soft hand reaching out and gently caressing his cheek. Seeing Seojun’s eyes close with content like a puppy cuddling up to its owner brought a smile to Taeyeon’s face. “I’ve decided. Why don’t you become my pet?”

The idols that are to appear on this story are something that you can influence! If that is something you're interested in, go to this link and scroll down a little to the 'Foreword' and follow the instructions listed.

Otherwise, lemme know what you thought, and thanks for reading!

Link to next chapter here.

[chososluv]

P L U G T O J I !

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary: i just got the thinking about toji fucking you with a chain on and how drastically different he would be from plug!choso and well... she came out!

🏷 tags/warnings: smut. fem!reader, reader has vagina, black coded, big dick toji, pet names (ma, mamas, daddy) daddy is used as "hey zaddy" not in a ddlg kind of way, slight size kink bc toji is huge squirting, fingering, some degradation, toji being a meanie its why we love him. dom!toji, cervix touching, deepthroating, weed smoking, mentions of criminal activity, toji is as toxic ass mf, reader is a fly ass bitch, toji fucking you w the chain on cuz duhhhh! Also subject to be edited

✎₊˚ word count: 6.5k sorry i had a lot to say about plug!toji yall!

Plug!Toji who is drastically different than plug!choso from personalities and down to how you meet.

You were college girl and Plug!Toji is the king of the city you moved to. You two lived in separate worlds until you decided further education was not for you and dropped out. It wasn't the fact that you weren't making grades — you were on the dean's list the entire time you were there — but you suddenly felt bored. Destined for more, you submitted those drop out papers and felt instant relief knowing that was the right decision. Now that you had time to pursue something other than college, you started bouncing around jobs. Retail job here, customer service agent there, eventually you tried out being a bottle girl at a local luxurious nightclub after being referred through a friend of a friend. That decision led you to be tangled with the notorious Toji Fushiguro.

Plug!Toji flew back to the city on this particular day. He touched down and decided immediately he need to be fucked up with a pretty woman in his lap. He went to his penthouse condominium, ridding himself of his clothes to start a hot shower before he got ready to go to one of his favorite clubs.

The same one you happened to work at full time now

Plug!Toji waited for the shower to get hot when one of his trusted men, Gojo Satoru, sent him the details of the section booked, followed with a selfie of him and an unknown's stripper's ass, grinning really hard. Toji could only grunt out a small laugh, tossing his phone onto the counter and climbing into the shower.

Originally not scheduled, you picked up a shift that fateful night Plug!Toji arrived back in town. You wanted the extra cash — and needed to justify spending money on getting your hair done into a smooth silk press. Your hair was long and straight down your back, and you looked absolutely divine. You garnered more attention that night from both clients and coworkers. You only laugh off each compliment, saying thank you, before tossing the strands over your shoulder. You had time for nothing more. You were here to get your bag and go.

Absorbed in your bag chasing, you failed to notice Plug!Toji watching you from his section. Satoru had the section packed with a plethora of strippers and bottle girls but you were all he could find himself focused on. Strippers kept trying to get his attention but he shooed him away every time as he watched you bring a bottle to a table. He saw your gorgeous smile all the way from his section. He continued to watch you and he took a generous swig from the Hennessy bottle. He doesn't flinch as the dark brown liquid raced its way bitterly down his throat. He still didn't care. His only focus was on the pretty woman with the exuberant personality he saw from across the way. You.

"Wait, I think the Toji is staring at you." One of your coworkers peeped as you were walking to the bar to prepare another drop on a table. The other one looked over and saw the big brooding man staring shamelessly in your direction. She quickly looked back to the rest of you before joining in the confirmation.

"He's definitely looking this way, but could he really be staring at y/n?" The other asked, clearly not attempting to hide her jealousy and you laughed. You only shook your head, not even bothering to look at who they were talking about because again, you were here to get your bag and not fawn over men. Money was the only thing on your mind and these men had to prove they were worthy of your attention. The three of you approach the bar before you replied.

"Girl not you sounding like a damn hater," you checked her, "we'll revisit that comment later, but either way I have no idea who that man is." You continued as you watch the bartenders finish up the last touches on the bottles you were delivering. The girl only rolled her eyes.

"Even more reason why I hope he's not looking at you. You're too new around here and you getting all the high end clients-" You looked directly at your coworker.

"You worry about the wrong damn things. Focus on ya bag and maybe you won't be so hurt when someone new comes in and takes up your clients." You snapped, not bothered — or concerned — if customers heard. This coworker in particular had been testing you since you got here and were sick of the unwarranted attitude. The witnessing coworker whistled.

"Y/N got a point. Step ya pussy up and maybe you'll party with Fushiguro one day." She said, defending you and that was all you needed to hear. You heard her fix to say something else, but then your manager popped up next to you three. A big grin was on his face

"Ladies, Yuki is going to fill in for Y/N. Toji Fushiguro just bought Y/N for the rest of the night." You raised your eyebrow and turned to face your manager. You didn't even bother to sneak a glance at your hater coworker. You knew she was fuming but that wasn't your focus. You had a smile stretched across your lips.

"How much?"

"Shit, probably enough to pay off the remainder of your loans from school. I know I could go out and buy a car with the money he just offered off tip alone." He said honestly and that was all you needed.

Plug!Toji who watched your manager fill you in from a distance. He immediately got up from the section, not wanting to share you with anyone. He descended from the stairs with suave arrogance as if he owned the place. Shit, he pretty much did one way or another with the way he ran this city. Everyone ate out of his hand whether they knew it or not. He continued his descension and that's when you finally looked in his direction. You unknowingly clenched your fist when you settled on his face, the look of an adonis but eyes of something so evil and sinister. You felt the tides change in that moment and knew your world was about to shift tremendously.

Plug!Toji stalks up on you, towering over you and your manager. He offers his free hand that wasn't holding the Hennessy bottle. His hands are cold. . .

so why was your palm so hot when he held it?

"You're y/n?" you nodded, "you ever fucked with someone who could buy you fucking the world, pretty girl?" Toji asked, quickly inspecting your empty wrist and empty ring finger. Perfect. That meant it would easier for him to snatch you up if you didn't have anyone at home waiting for you.

"Nah, but I assume you're about to change that, Toji?" Your mouth moved before you could stop yourself. He could only smirk and he bit his lip as he looked at you up and down. Your manager sensed he was no longer needed and walked himself away as he felt the wad of cash in his pocket - courtesy of Toji bribing for your time.

"Had a feeling you had a mouth on you," he brought his lips close to your ear, "glad to know I was right." A shiver skated down your spine and you felt goosebumps prickle on your arms. You brought your face back to look at him, shooting him a mischievous grin and Toji felt something adjacent to love in that moment. A desire to have you to himself had grew even more. You leaned close to him and he brought his ear back down to you so you could speak clear into it.

"I'd love to know what else you suspect about me, Toji." You challenged, voice something sensual and thick with sultry honey. He traced a thumb over your knuckle and replied back.

"Careful with me, baby. I just might snatch you up and never bring you back." Toji warned. You probably should have took some time to think about what he was saying, but you felt high off this banter alone and wanted to do anything to keep it going. So, you licked your lips, stepped close to him and placed a testy hand on his stomach and spoke.

"What if I been waiting for you to come do that, Fushiguro?" You said. You removed your lips from his ear to capture the look in his eyes. Sensual darkness passed over and he grinned sinfully, that scar lifted at the corner of his mouth. You had only just fully realized how eerie he looked with it, but for some reason you wondered what it would be like if he let you licked it. . .

"Then," he broke your thoughts, "lets go ahead and get acquainted, baby. Whatcha say?" He questioned and you nodded. He smirked again and took a final swig of the Hennessy bottle. He looked to his left to see your coworker from earlier gawking at you two. He motioned her over, excitement came across her face as she thought she was joining in on you. However, Toji placed the empty bottle in her hand, patted her cheek, and shooed her away. He focused his attention back on you before witnessing the crestfallen look on her face. You couldn't even attempt to shoot her a fake sympathetic look because you started squealing.Toji literally snatches you up and takes you out of main room and to the lounge he faithfully rents out.

Plug!Toji who had you squeezing your legs tight as he carried you to keep your cunt from fluttering. The brute exhibit of his strength had you swoon as he balanced you with one arm. He took you to his favorite lounge where drinks and pre-rolled blunts were already waiting. He took a seat on the plush couch and you slid down next to him. He stared at you all over, not bothering to hide his wandering gaze. He stared at you for a few moments before he spoke.

"You smoke?"

Plug!Toji who offers you a blunt - to which you gladly take. Smoking on the shift with this handsome man? That's a dream come true. You take a couple puffs, barely coughing and Toji is impressed as you passed it back. He takes a hit before passing it back to you.

"You be smoking, huh baby?" He asked you. You chuckled, nodding as you take another generous hit. This time you stifle a small cough and he laughed at you.

"Yeah. It's how I decompress." You admitted, coughing again and he chuckled at you once again. He rubbed your back jokingly to help you through your fit.

"Can't smoke my shit like its regular baby this shit pressure." He said, taking another hit to hold the blunt for you. You rolled your eyes, looking at him to see he scooted closer to you. You felt the heat from his body waft off his and onto yours, words dissolved from your brain as you looked at his appearance appropriately. His all black outfit with a black tee, jeans, and shoes - a simple yet sexy monochrome moment. A thick gold herringbone chain draped around his neck to provide a pop of color and you couldn't stop yourself from wondering how the weight would feel on your face while he fu-

"What you looking at, y/n?" Toji asked, smirking at you once again as he caught you staring at him in deep thought. You subconsciously licked your lips as while staring at his chain and he felt compelled to call you out on it. You snapped from your gaze, trance lifted and your eyes shifted back to his. You only smiled.

“Your chain, daddy.” You teased and he shifted at the pet name that rolled off your tongue. He didn't even try to hide his sleazy ass grin.

“What about my chain, ma?” He took a final hit of the blunt, ashed the rest in the tray. Leaning back into the couch, he stretched out his legs and patted a broad hand on his lap. You knew this signal, and usually you ignore it but with Toji? You obeyed and got up to slide into his lap. You placed an arm around his shoulders to steady yourself against his frame. His broad arms circled around you and caged you in possessively. You sunk into his hold and then you spoke.

“It's pretty.” You reached up and your fresh manicure set brushed against the herringbone. He swallowed when he felt your nails scratch against his neck and he only stared at your face in the lounge lighting. He’s allowed to see your pretty complexion in this space, gorgeous set of pump lips, and lashes extended for days. Your eyes looked from the chain to see him staring at you. You smiled and tossed your hair over your shoulder.

“Want one?” He asked you, eyes flickering to your naked neck and picturing how a matching one would look on you. He thought about adding a T charm to it so people know you were his. A smile on his face when he thought about it but it looked like he was mirroring yours because you had also smiled.

“Maybe. What I gotta do for one?” You teased and played a dangerous game consciously. You played dumb, but you knew the whispers about Toji Fushiguro. He was the top boss of the city and he did highly illegal things. Too many of the people he was affiliated with were fighting charges and RICOS. And you had sat in the most dangerous man in the city’s lap, and flirted with him as if it were nothing.

When you look back on your behavior that night, you couldn’t help but wonder if you always knew you were secretly made for this kind of life with Toji.

“Let me take you out of here and I’ll show you everything you can do for me, pretty girl.”

Plug!Toji didn't need to ask you twice. You immediately left without telling any of the girls and your manager. You texted your roommate you would be out late and shared your location with a trusted best friend and that was as much as you did.

Plug!Toji met you out front. He grabbed your hand and led you to a vehicle, opening the door for you to the backseat of a sleek, black suv. The leather interior had you wondering how much it cost as Toji slid in the backseat with you. The driver greeted Toji and he responded with grunted instructions to go home.

“Ayo you know the rules. Don’t look back here. And shit with this one,” Toji looked at you, licked his lips, and wondered how yours would taste, “if you even think about looking back here i’ll cut those eyes out.” You didn't have time to register how serious Toji’s threat sounded because he placed his rough lips against yours. You immediately shut your eyes, melting into his lips and you felt immediately brazen enough to grab onto his t-shirt to bring him closer. Toji could only smirk against your lips, seeing how you were bold and never terrified to be in close quarters with him regardless of his criminal status. He only wanted you more that night.

Plug!Toji who didn't give a fuck his driver was less than a foot away and he pulled down the raunchy work top you wore. You gasped when his calloused fingers pinched at your hardened nipple. The action earned a twitch between your thighs.

"I been wondering how pretty these tits were since i saw you and i'm not disappointed. They real aint they?" Toji said against your lips, he paused kissing you to cast a gaze down at your breast. He saw the perky bunch prickle with goosebumps as your nipples stood at the cold air and stimulation. You only moaned at his compliment before you snaked your hand that was on his shirt to the back of his head to bring him closer, aching to devour his taste of mint and hennessey again. You're stuck your tongue out lewdly as you drew him closer and he smirked sinisterly before you two kissed yet again. This time was sloppy and spit swapping with teeth bumping against one another as tongues traced one another. The taste of your strawberry gloss and tongue left Plug!Toji feeling greedy and he needed more.

Plug!Toji and you only managed to kiss on the car ride. When Toji was about to place you in his lap the driver alerted you two that you had arrived to his apartment. He grunted, pulling away from you to see your gloss smeared around your lips and pupils blown sexually. He took a thumb and rubbed the gloss off your chin as you tuck your breast back into your shirt. Toji reached into his pocket, took out a wad of wash, and threw it into the lap of the driver.

"Good job not looking. Y/N, baby come on."

Plug!Toji who wasted no time and fucked you crazy in his apartment that night. He brought you up to his apartment and was nice enough to let the door close before he had began tearing your clothes off. You can't recall who took off what, but what you do remember is the first thing he made you do was lay face down ass up on the edge of the bed. His hands caressed your ass as his tongue lapped up and down your cunt ravenously. Salvia and dripping cream dribbled down his chin and lips but he didn’t care. Your angelic wails melodic to him and each time you went an higher octave he felt his cock swell another inch.

“Sexy as fuck when you moan,” Toji complimented you, “pussy pretty and soaked too think you ready for this dick?” You were so delirious you agreed. Your cunt lusted for something inside it and you felt him tap on your ass. You got up from your position, turning around to face him as you sat on the edge. You looked up at him, his massive frame towered over you as he slowly undid his jeans, his shirt long gone but that damn gold chain still sitting grandly on his chest.

He settled onto the middle of his bed, free from his clothes and he gave you a look. You didn’t need to be told, and you crawled towards him, swift hands at the band of his boxers and you languidly pull down . . .

you gawked at his immense cock that flopped against his stomach, stiff and flushed at the tip. You attempted miserably to hide your overwhelmed countenance but Toji saw the way your eyes widened and snickered. You don't notice him laughing at you because you were still so mesmerized by how huge it was. The veins are engorged around his shaft and even though it’s so brawny and intimidating it’s so pretty.

"Never seen a dick this big before huh?" Toji teased you, a playful thumb coming to caress your cheek as you continued to stare at his cock. You shook your head, just astonished. His enticing mauve shaft with a pink tip had you licking your lips at his color. The tip bubbled with precum and you leaned forward and kitten licked his slit. Toji hissed, but then grumbled as you took his tip in your mouth. He moved his hand to your hair and held it back, his brawny fingers fisting it into a ponytail. His thighs jerked when you kept trying to take as much as him as you could. What you couldn’t take you caressed with two delicate hands.

"Y/N." Toji hissed your name again and gripped tightly onto your hair. You answered with obscene noises coming from your throat and mouth as you performed the best oral of your life. You were so determined as you were determined to claim him with your mouth. Toji noticed your stubborn nature and one of your hands snuck away to fondle at his balls. He cursed and bucked his hips up in your mouth.

His tip bullied its way down your throat and it caused you to gag, but you took it obediently. He carnally bucked his hips into your awaiting throat, more obscene noises tumbled before you pulled your mouth off of him to breathe. You gasped as spit and a little bit of precum slid lewdly down your chin from the excess on your lips. You only smiled, giggled, and then continued to massage his balls with your hands.

"Dick so fucking big, Ji." You said, fucked out just from sucking his cock and Toji could only smirk. He saw that look in your eye and could not believe you were drunk off sucking his cock alone. He almost replied but then you tucked him back into your mouth. Toji groaned as he watched you hungrily slide his dick past where you stopped last time, deep throating him.

"Fuck— mouth so fucking good let me fuck that throat again." Toji said desperately. You barely gave his thigh a gentle caress as a go before he bucked inside your mouth again. You released a sound that was a mix of a whine and a gag and Toji felt his dick jump in your mouth. He bit his lip, relishing in the feeling of your wet and hot mouth and pictured what your cunt felt like. He casted a gaze down at your legs to see you grinding your poor thighs together. He smirked.

"Rubbing your thighs while sucking my dick is crazy. Get cho ass up here and fucking ride it."

You pulled your mouth off his cock, lungs gasping for air as you let oxygen fill them once more. You got up to your knees, quickly placing a few fingers at your entrance to feel the slickness. You're beyond drenched and your glossy fingers were indisputable proof. Toji snatched your hand as you straddled his waist and stuck your fingers in his mouth. Your taste danced on his taste buds and he sighed with pleasure.

"How I taste, daddy?" You inquired, finding your voice now because when he ate you out earlier words were scarce.

"Fucking delicious now sit on this dick."

Plug!Toji had a feeling he was going to fall damn near in love with you the moment you deepthroat his cock, but the way you rode him with something serious he felt in heaven. His arms were crossed behind his head as he enjoyed the way you slapped your hips against his pelvis erotically. His groomed hairs sticky and soaked with your nectar. You huffed, tits bouncing as you ignored the burn that plagued your inner thighs.

"To-ji!" You moaned, continuing to bounce up and down on his cock. You strived to ignore the fact that his girth was literally splitting you in half. You could feel him in the depths of your soul each time you managed to bottom him out completely. Your cunt quivered each time and you panted out pathetic gasps between moans. Toji only continued to smirk at you, drinking in and loving the way you moaned his name. Why was everything about you so perfect?

"You're so fucking sexy taking my cock like a pro, mama." Toji grinned and the scar at the corner of his mouth lifted. He decided he can't take not feeling you against his skin anymore and removed a hand from behind him, bringing it to your waist to steady your body. You mewled when he touched you, not realizing you missed his touch until he placed his hand on your hip. You take one of your hands that was at your breast and move it to hold onto Toji's hand.

"Cock so fucking big." You sighed as you continued to feel his tip deep in your cervix. His cock pulsed inside you this time, twitching when your tepid walls embraced him. Your cunt throbbed, hugging him tightly to beg for his seed. Toji groaned at the feeling, moving the hand from your hip to your ass. He caressed the fat before spanking it ruthlessly. You shout and threw your head back as the sting echoes throughout the surface.

"Biggest cock you ever fucking had, huh mama?" Toji asked of you. He witnessed your face contort in pleasure as you nodded shamelessly.

"MMmmm, yes Ji." You're drunk off the thickness, feeling your cunt tightening up and that thread deep in your belly become taut. You felt it coming and you were biting your lip to brace yourself for the messy spout about to erupt from between your legs.

"You a squirter, y/n?" Toji already had an inkling what was fixing to take place. You nodded, hurling your hips down faster as you felt it coming promptly. The feeling knocked into you when Toji's cruel thumb traced circles on your nub. You wailed, screeching as your cunt sprayed all over Toji, soaking his pelvis and hairs once more.

"Toji!" You panted while you rutted your hips greedily to let the last few spurts of squirt leave your cunt. He grunted and sat up before throwing you off of him and to the side on the bed. You weren't given a chance to register anything before his raven locks dove between your legs.

Plug!Toji has one of your legs thrown over his shoulder as his tongue assaulted your folds the second time tonight. His tongue reveled in every last drop as it oozed out of you. Arousal coated his lips and he doesn't mind. He licked his lips before he suckikg at your trembling hole. You whimpered, wanting to run away because of how good his hot muscle felt against you. Toji only gripped your thighs roughly, surely to leave violet reminders that following morning.

"Fuck you think you doing running from me, y/n?" He swore, slapping your thigh and you whimpered.

"Sorry, Toji—" You attempted to apologize but he cut you off.

"Nah, don't "Toji" me now wheres all that daddy shit from earlier huh?" He taunted you, bringing a finger to your awaiting hole and you sighed at the intrusion. You completely forgot he asked you a question when he sunk a second finger inside. A loud squelch sounded out and your eyes rolled back and you moaned. He slapped at your thigh again.

"Fucking answer me, y/n."

"I'm sorry, daddy. Please—” You tried to speak but his fingers curling deep in that one spot left you winded..

"Please what, pretty girl?" He teased, fucking your hole with his fingers and he earned a nasty squelch. His tongue circled your clit and you cry out. Toji’s fat tongue was so mean and overpowering your poor little clit as he fucked it. He earned another gush to coat his fingers and on the sheets.

"Want that dick, daddy." You finished your thought finally. Your pussy finished its second round of squirting and Toji licked at your clit one last time. He traveled down and sucked the arousal from around your folds before he came back up to you. He grabbed onto your face and you opened your eyes, seeing him stare down at you with that precarious darkness in his eyes.

"Open, and I just might give it to you." He said and you obeyed without question. Mouth open, you stuck your tongue out as he gathered the spit and arousal left in his mouth. The liquid is on your tongue and before you can swallow it Toji's mouth chased after you. You moaned in the kiss as your tongues swirled together in a salacious dance. You were so distracted by the kiss you fail to notice he was prepping to slide in until he eased in you.

"Toji—fuck—feels ssssogood!" You slurred underneath the brute man as he fucked you into his mattress. You couldn't keep up, pathetic gasps and whimpers fell from your lips each time he pistoned into you. He only smirked, drunk off the sounds that left your lips. He knew you ain't ever had dick like this before.

"Could say the same about you baby," he looked down at you, his chain bumped into your nose but you don't care, you're in heaven at the feeling, "pussy so pretty, leaky, and creamy can't have no one else fucking my shit." He spoke about you filthily but you don't care — again. You only get enraptured off his words and nodded frantically.

"It's all yours, daddy," you're drunk off his cock as it continued to send you in a lustful spiral, "i promise." You approached your orgasm and threw your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Toji only grunted and continued to fuck deeper into you as you squeezed him tighter.

"All mine huh," you nodded as your eyebrows scrunched up, face contorting into a euphoric expression once more, "that's what i like to fucking hear." He fucked into you faster, his thumb coming to rub on your clit again and you cried. You threw your head back, screaming as you felt your body succumbing to the orgasm.

"To—ji!" You're choking, pussy tight and leaky on Toji's thick cock as you came. You creamed, sucking him in and gushing hard around him. Toji only kept fucking you through your orgasm, his cold chain continuing to dust lightly against your face. You became a whimpering mess underneath him, unable to comprehend anything as overstimulation took over.

"Fucking tight pussy tryna get me to cum in it the first night," Toji chuckles, "shit should I, baby?" You nod your head so fast you should have felt shame for it.

"Want it all, Ji." You tell him and Toji didn't need to be told twice.

You're cumming again when he finally spills himself inside. He grunted and groaned, the sounds melodic to your ears and your cunt twitched around him more. He felt it, continuing to milk his cock with your silky walls and coming down from his high. He looked down at you and saw the roots had turned curly and a light smirk came to his face. A moment passed when you opened your eyes and looked up at him.

You mewled, coming back to Earth and you studied the man who lingered above still. His chain is still swinging against your face but you don't flinch. Dark eyes peered down and you hold his stare for a moment. The scar caught your attention, and the fingers that were on his back found themselves sliding forward to trace along the abrasion.

Plug!Toji tried to ignore the electricity he felt when your manicured finger traced along his skin. The moment felt slightly tender as he held a gaze with you. Something short of vulnerability flashed briefly until he snapped out of it. He hooked a strong arm around your waist and pulled you up from laying on your back and into his lap.

Plug!Toji who sparked a blunt before speaking,

"Once you with me there's no backing out." A subtle warning that once you were tangled with him and his lifestyle that was it. There would be no take backs. You only held his stare and took the blunt from him. You spoke.

"Long as you don't play me for no goofy bitch we good." A subtle warning from your side and you took a hit from the blunt. Toji could only smile sinisterly at your attitude.

"Yes ma'am." He chuckled darkly, taking the blunt back from you before he thinks to himself.

yeah, she'll fit right in.

flash forward a few years later and your life has changed drastically.

You're no longer a bottle girl. Why would you need a job when you had Plug!Toji to take care of you and spoil you to death?

The same went with your apartment. Why did you need to continue to pay expensive ass rent with a mediocre roommate when you had Plug!Toji who was ready to move you into his two floor loft after that first night of fucking?

And last but not least? You're the queen of the city.

Just as violent as Plug!Toji, you always get your way and opposition was always dealt with quickly and efficiently. If one didn't like you, you just prayed for their sake you never met them. Probability very high that the day you two crossed paths would be their last.

Plug!Toji has you as his iced out baby girl who he spoils. He always gets you what you want whenever you ask and men who stared at you a second too long always got punched out by him. Everyone wanted to know who was this one that was always next to Fushiguro. They knew you were someone special to him because Toji never showed up with the same woman more than once, never had a protective hand on their backs at times...

but it was the gold herringbone chain with a "T" brandished clear as day that marked you. Everyone knew it Fushiguro's way of marking you as his.

And you can't help but relish in this new found life of yours. The luxury, opulence, comfort, and excitement it offered to you was unimaginable. Soon after that first night with Plug!Toji, he took care of you instantly. He settled your loans and paid your roommate off to let you break the lease to move into his apartment a month later.

"I need you close to me this shit dangerous. Here, buy you that Saint Laurent bag you been eyein' or somethin just stop that fuckin poutin'.'" Plug!Toji argued, tossing his credit card in your lap on the drive back to his apartment with all your essential stuff in the rear area.

And you did in fact stop pouting and purchased the Saint Laurent purse you had been fawning over. This wasn't the first time Toji asked you to do something and rewarded you when you gave in. As mentioned earlier, you quit your job a couple weeks after meeting him because one time he wanted to see you but you had a shift . . .

"Mane, fucking quit that place, y/n. I take care of you now." You could hear the annoyance in Plug!Toji’s voice as you spoke over the phone, but you were feeling reluctant to agree. Relying completely on him after what you had in your account was gone? You felt uneasy and Toji could sense it. You heard him shuffling on the other end.

"Y/N." He said your name that day and he sounded like he was in a building.

"Yeah, I don't know To-" You started to tell him your thoughts until you heard knocking at your door. You went to answer it, seeing on the other side is none other than Toji. You can't help but roll your eyes as you two hang up. You take in his sexy all black appearance with that signature thick gold herringbone.

Plug!Toji showed up with a present. You two went to your room, you huffed and puffed about how he was going to make you late for work but he ignored you. Toji occupied himself with the jiggle of your ass as you lightly stomped into your room. You had went to the side of the bed, placing the bag there before opening the gift. Toji stood behind you and watched you remove the tissue. You saw the black box, raising your eyebrow as you feel his mischievous hands on your waist and slowly slide up your body. He hands were at your neck when you finally began opening the box.

Plug!Toji sported that signature devilish smirk, moving your hair from your neck as you revealed the gift. You gasped so loud that day.

The gift: a thick gold herringbone necklace similar to Toji's, however yours brandished a "T" in the center. You gasped at how pretty it was but also the slight meaning behind it.

"Toji.." You were still in awe as he began kissing on your neck, moving his hands back down to your waist. He naughtily licks a stripe along your pulse, causing your knees to buckle. He held you up before bringing his lips to your ear.

"Quit that fucking place, y/n."

You didn't even hesitate and immediately agreed that you would.

And moments later, you were riding him with nothing on but that pretty gold herringbone chain.

bonus scene:

present time: you lay pretty in a bathtub, rose and cinnamon filling the air. The ambience relaxing and romantic with your plenty bubbles and aromatic candles lit. Your muscles were slowly releasing the tension from a long day of shopping. A way to decompress after a stressful week of being the fiancé of the notorious Plug!Toji.

Plug!Toji who finds you sitting beautiful. Your eyes are opening, sensing he arrived and your lips shift into a sensual smirk. All day you missed your man and seeing him waltz through the door all tall and delicious you were ready to pounce. Your eyes sank seductively and Toji watches that look pass over you. He sits on the side of the tub as you speak.

"I missed you today, daddy." You speak.

"Missed you too baby," his eyes look you over before speaking, "come out that tub we both know you aint tryna bathe right now." A cocky smirk on his lips and you can only chuckle. However, you get up, standing up from the water and letting the suds and bubbles run with the water down your enticing frame. Toji licks his lips, watching the bubbles fall from your tits, stomach, hips, and between your thighs. He watches intensely as you step out, water lands on the floor but the two of you didn't care as you stand before him. You grab the towel from the sink and hand it to Toji. He leans down and grabs your wet calf, bringing your foot onto his knee as he begins drying your leg off.

You look at his lap, seeing his dick laying against his leg through the tight slacks he was wearing. You bring your foot up, sliding it until your toes were pressing into the print.

"You hard already, Toji" You tease him, he only looks at you sinisterly, knowing he was about to have fun with you tonight.

"Don't play these games y/n you know I aint the mufucka for that." He warns.

"What games, daddy?" You press your toes harder and before you can register the mean look he gave you he swiftly pulls you into his lap. The towel is gone and you're squealing, giggling even because you know you're about to get put in your place.

"Oh we actin' brand new? That's cool." He strikes your ass, earning a lament of shock.

"Get your fucking ass on the bed so i can break this fucking pussy so you don't fucking forget shit again."

©𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐯 ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!

[sceletaflores]

"Dependence Is Weakness, Darling."

pairing: older!patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: it wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. it was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. and as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

—or: it's been a little over twelve years since you've seen patrick zweig.

word count: 7.8k (hopefully this is long enough lol)

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex but in a loving way, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), semi-public sex (fucking in a car, you know i had to...), angst, swearing, cigarette smoking as a love language, slight mommy issues lmao, hints of mean!reader cause i still live for that shit, love confessions, rain scene cause i'm corny as hell, porn with SOOOO much plot, no use of y/n.

author's note: this might me the filthiest thing i've ever written lols. i actually DID get a couple asks for some more angsty patrick fics and ofc i love writing angst i'm just a girl i live for that shit. look at me doing what was asked of me and not just whatever i wanted! i'm a giver, what can i say. this fic was revived because of a few anon's who demanded it and i'm so glad they did. you guys got me to give this a second chance and i'm so proud of how it turned out. extra special shout out to @bii-aan-ckaa who fiercely advocated and waited very patiently for this! i'm so obsessed with you and your beautiful kind words. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

Fifteen minutes. 

That’s how long you can stomach sitting in the sticky booth of the bar watching Patrick Zweig flirt with a woman you don't recognize across the dimly lit room. Fifteen measly minutes until you were giving your friends some lame excuse of needing fresh air and leaving the table to escape out into the alley.

It’s been a little over twelve years since you’ve seen Patrick. A little over twelve years since you turned your back on him with tears spilling down your cheeks and your favorite racket a mangled, smashed mess gripped tightly in your shaking hand as you walked out of his life forever. 

Or at least what you thought was forever, you guess you were wrong.

To put it lightly, your relationship with Patrick was…complicated. You met him the summer before you started at Stanford. He was tall with green eyes and curly hair and he was kind of an asshole but he made you laugh, so you let him fuck you anyway. At the time, you thought that was it. One really good fuck with a really hot guy you’d never see again.

You thought you were hallucinating when you saw him on the campus courts two months later, when he sauntered up to you with an unmistakable “I know what you look like naked” smirk on his face. He was just as tall and had the same green eyes and the same curly hair and was an even bigger asshole than he was before. You still let him fuck you anyway.

You never thought you’d get sucked into the storm that was whatever the fuck was going on between Art, Patrick and Tashi. Never thought that it would completely ruin your self esteem, your tennis, your everything.

You weren’t particularly close to Art or Tashi in college. Sure, you were all in the same circle. That didn’t make you best friends. Art was nice enough, but he never went out of his way to talk to you. You and Tashi were on the same team but that didn’t mean anything. You respected the hell out of her and her game, and you could tell she felt the same. Even with that respect, there was still a tiny part of you that resented her. 

She was number one, the pride and joy of Stanford, had a constant slew of brands and scouts up to her ears. It seemed like no matter how hard you worked that she would always be number one. It felt like you were always just inches behind her.

Clawing and scratching your way through the ranks since you were twelve to be second best was never the plan. Your mother made sure to remind you of that every chance she got.

Then slowly, she started beating you at more than just tennis. Patrick wanted her, it was more than obvious. At first you didn’t care, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was just a guy you fucked, he could do whatever he wanted. You were friends. There wasn’t a problem.

When you realized you knew more about Patrick than just how he worked dick, then there was a problem. 

At first, all the things you knew about him were boiled down to the vulgar little tidbits you’d notice when he fucked you. You know that he has a birthmark on his lower back. You know when he’d be close because he’d always bite your shoulder before he came. You know his favorite position was really missionary even though he told everyone it was doggy.

Knowing all that was fine.

You also know that he’s allergic to kiwi. You know that he only holds his cigarettes with his thumb and his pointer finger. You’d always know when he was nervous because he’d start tapping his fingers on his thigh. You know that when he’d listen to music he loved, that his right hand would drum along to the beat just a little bit faster than his left would.

You knew all those things because you were falling in love with him, and Patrick Zweig is not someone you fall in love with. Especially not with Tashi Duncan in the picture.

You tried your best to push it down, to pretend you weren’t hurt every time Patrick chose Tashi over you. When he’d miss your games because he was with Tashi, when he’d blow you off to go meet Tashi, when he started to stop returning your calls or replying to your texts. All things you never cared about before started slowly eating at you. You felt awful most days, holed up in your room wallowing in self-pity. Your GPA was steadily dropping as the semester went on. Even your tennis started slipping, and you lost your winning streak to a fucking scrub. When you finally cracked and broke down to your mother over the phone one night she just scoffed.

“Well what did you think would happen when you started to depend on that boy? Dependence is weakness, darling.”

Dependence is weakness. You blocked Patrick’s number that same night.

It all came to a head when he blew up at you after Tashi’s injury. Everyone was pretty shaken up about it. You’d never forget the way it buckled, the way the sharp snap rang through the court, the way she fell to the ground screaming. You’d never seen her cry before. 

Patrick found you later that night, all alone on the practice courts trying to burn the day out of your mind by serving balls till you collapsed. It was the first time he talked to you in weeks. He was pissed. Screaming at you, calling you every nasty thing he could think of, getting up in your face. It was a fucking mess. You both said some things that should have never been said, but it ended when Patrick accused you of somehow being the cause of all of it.

“You hate Tashi, fucking hate her. You wanted something like this to happen. I bet you’re just over the fucking moon that she’s finally out and you can take her place. You can finally be number one seed and you're fucking ecstatic, aren't you? You’re so fucking pathetic, so desperate for validation. Maybe if mommy paid attention to you for once, you wouldn’t be so fucking needy. You're just a sad, delusional fucking runner-up, grasping at whatever shreds of importance you think you still have.”

You stood there, stunned by his outburst, each word hitting you like a physical blow. It was insane, nothing but Patrick blowing things way out of proportion in the midst of his anger.

You wanted to scream, to deny it vehemently, but the hurt and frustration choked off your words. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of anger and heartbreak swirling in you. Vision blurring out everything but Patrick's face twisted up with rage as he glared at you, his words lingering in the air like poison. 

You told him about your mother because you thought you could trust him. You thought he was the only person that really understood you, his dad was a piece of shit too. Him using something so delicate as material to hit you where it hurts was the last straw.

You blew up, all the things you’d been keeping bottled up for months finally boiled over in you swinging your racket down on the green concrete over and over until there was nothing left of it to break. You didn’t even look at Patrick as you walked away. You never saw him again.

You’d love to say it was also the last time you thought about him, but that would be a lie. As much as he hurt you, and as much as you hated him for it, your mind refused to let you forget him.

You still smoke Camel Blues because that was your guys’ brand, even when you should have quit years ago anyway. You still buy the same color lighter, pink. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than an easy choice, that it’s a good color. It’s not at all because you can still hear Patrick’s teasing voice in the back of your head bitching, “I can’t believe you make me use a pink lighter.” when he always forgot his and had to borrow yours. 

It’s not based on a compulsive need to be reminded of him every single time you use it. It’s just convenient, okay.

You know deep down that they were the only remnants of a past that you still couldn’t fully let go of. As much as you tried to bury those memories, they lingered, melded into the corners of your mind like stubborn stains. 

It wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. It was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. Patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. And as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

Even twelve years later you’re still trying to convince yourself that dependence is weakness, that you were better off without him. But sometimes, in the quiet moments like this when the smoke curls from your cigarette and the pink lighter flickers in your hand, you wonder if he ever thinks of you, if he regrets how things ended between the two of you.

Maybe it's not that you can't escape Patrick's grip on you after all these years, it's that you just won't.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don't hear the heavy door to the bar swinging open, or the sound of gravel crunching underneath approaching footsteps.

“Holy shit,” a deep voice rings out from your right, “someone pinch me.”

Your whole body tenses, your cigarette freezing a few inches away from your lips. Something like fight or flight starts to quietly buzz beneath your skin. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, even despite the gruffer, more grown up tone that wasn’t there the last time you heard it.

Your heart’s already kicking into overdrive when you finally start to hesitantly turn your head, time almost slowing down as your eyes sweep over the alley. You kind of don’t want to believe that your luck is this shitty. That maybe it was all in your imagination, that you were thinking about him so much you were starting to hear things that weren’t really there, that he was still back in the bar feeling up that blonde girl. But it can never be that easy, and sure enough, there he is.

Patrick Zweig is standing a few feet away from you with both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a wide, achingly familiar grin lighting up his face.

You’re quiet for a few long moments, completely shocked into silence. Your mind races with a million different things you want to say but can’t find the voice to. You should be causing a scene. You should be losing it, screaming, crying, throwing things, slapping him hard across his unfairly handsome face. But you don’t, too surprised to even move. 

Patrick speaks again, taking several steps towards you. “It is really you, right?” he asks, eyes wide and mouth pulling into an easy, lopsided grin. To anyone else, the laid back, carefree tone he was going for would sound genuine. You can barely pick up on the stunned, almost breathless edge lacing his words, like he also can’t believe you’re standing right in front of him.

He steps into the light shining from a dingy lamp above the door, it basks around him in a yellow orange glow.

Same eyes, same ears, same Patrick.

For years you’ve thought about this exact moment, what you’d say if you ever saw him. You lose all of that practice the closer he gets. He’s less than a foot away from you now, an expectant look on his face. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

You feel like running, like stubbing your cigarette on the pavement and making a break for the door. You already ran from him once, but old habits die hard. 

You don’t run, you refuse to take the easy way out. You’re a grown woman, you’re stronger than you were in college, you’re going to the goddamn Olympics. It’s only Patrick for Christ’s sake.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds harsher than you meant, but that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t deserve kindness from you. 

“Tennis.” Is all he says, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Camel blues. “What are you doing here?” He parrots back, smacking the bottom of the carton, plucking the one that shakes out between his long fingers. “I’d think that Miss. Team USA would be too busy for bar crawls.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing skeptically. You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you or not. “It’s not a bar crawl,” you shoot back childishly, feeling defensive under his heavy gaze. “We’re celebrating.”

Patrick just nods, letting out a small hum in lieu of replying. He's close enough now that you can see gray strands streaked through his hair. He looks older, a few barely there wrinkles creasing his skin as he pops his cigarette between his lips. “Got a light?” he asks around the filter, holding his hand out expectantly before you even answer.

It’s still just as annoying. You roll your eyes, sighing dramatically as you fish your lighter out of your skirts pocket. You place it in the open palm of his hand, ignoring the fireworks that go off at the base of your spine when his fingers catch on your wrist as you pull away.

He mumbles out a half-assed thanks, cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind. If he notices the color, he doesn’t say anything. It feels wrong that he doesn’t tease you about it, staying silent as he tosses it back to you when his cigarette finally lights. You ignore the hurt blooming in your chest as you pocket it.

Patrick takes a deep inhale, the tip of his cigarette burns bright red. The way his lips wrap around the filter has heat spreading through you. “Shocked you’re still smoking,” he waves his free hand at you vaguely, smoke flowing from his lips as he speaks. “It’s not super admirable.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s really how you want to start this?

“Start what?” he asks coyly, leaning his shoulder too close to you against the brick. He’s playing dumb, the smirk on his face gives him away. 

You say nothing, not trusting yourself to speak. He has a beard now, sort of patchy and fairly new looking. You wrinkle your nose up at it. 

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s acting like this. All calm and collected like he’s catching up with an old friend, like he didn’t say all those horrible things to you. As if every single word he said that night isn’t still engraved in your mind and carried with you through your whole career. 

Patrick’s quiet for a bit, taking another slow drag. “Have you seen either of them?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s treading the water of your boundaries by bringing this up. “Or am I your first?” He lets the innuendo hang in the air, trying to joke his way through something neither of you really want to talk about.

You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the part of the street you can see through the alleys opening.

You don’t need to ask who “them” is.

You just shake your head no, not wanting to have to say anything out loud and make this into a whole thing. The smoke from your cigarette swirls through your lungs, warm and familiar. 

You’ve seen them both at multiple tennis events. Things like matches, and galas, and charity auctions. Hell, they watched from the stands when you won Wimbledon for the first time. You just make sure and avoid them like the plague, always running the other direction the second you see a short bob and cropped blonde hair.

You’ve been in the same room with them countless times over the years but you might as well have been in separate worlds. The only “contact” you’ve had with them since you all graduated was weirdly ominous.

Art followed you on Instagram after you got your third career slam, but he doesn’t like any of your posts. You’re one of the mere twenty accounts in his following. You never followed him back. 

Then, when your career first started taking off, the press somehow learned about your past with Tashi. They started using it to their advantage when picking headlines for any pieces written about you. “The only woman in the world to beat Tashi Duncan!” It pissed you off to no end. It was stupid, a way to get clicks on their sad little gossip sites. And it wasn’t even fucking true.

They finally stopped when you threatened to sue their asses. Apparently, Tashi noticed.

She sent you flowers. You threw them out.

Patrick nods back, taking his own slow drag. The sound of traffic hums in the background, the music from the bar bleeding through the wall mutely. 

“Congrats on that,” he says casually, looking you up and down slowly. You fight not to squirm under his gaze. “On making the team. That’s some serious shit. I always knew it’d be you, out of all of us.”

It’s a blatant lie. You were always four out of four in college, the one person in the group with the least potential for stardom. If it wasn’t for Tashi’s injury, she’d definitely be in your place — on top of the world.

He’s trying to pacify you, to butter you up. All it does is grate on your nerves and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Did you just come out here to interrogate me? To mess with me?” you ask sharply, frustration starting to get the better of you. “Do you want a fucking autograph or something?”

Patrick laughs, throwing his head back. “Nope, I wanted to catch up. It's been a while.” he shrugs, eyes darkening ever so slightly. “I just know how much you like talking about yourself, that’s all.”

You pause, picking up on the clear implication of his words. “Excuse me?” you question, turning towards him.

“Just saying,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “When we were younger everyone always thought I was this arrogant, cocky, self obsessed prick…” he trails off, an infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. It does nothing to soothe you, only adding fuel to the fire of your anger. “And they were all right, I was. But, that’s also exactly what you are right now.” he finishes, tapping the ash off his cigarette.

You feel it, all the emotions swirling inside you of at seeing Patrick again threatening to burst. Anger and misery waging a war in your stomach. The wind is starting to pick up around you, making goosebumps break out over your skin. The fabric of your skirt swishes around your thighs. You feel clammy, but it has nothing to do with the temperature drop. 

“Was?” you ask, condescending and mean, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. “You really don’t think you’re still all of those things?”

Patrick chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. He goes to say something, but you beat him to it. “I’ve changed, Patrick.” you say sternly, brows furrowing in displeasure. Your tone is hard, frustration seeping into your words. Considering the last time the two of you spoke, this was almost going well. It’s just like Patrick to ruin something before he needs to.

You know distantly that you could deescalate the situation, but maybe you’re more alike than you thought. Maybe you’re just too greedy to keep the peace. “So fucking sorry that I’m not the same person I was in college, but I actually chose to grow up.”

Patrick snorts, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, clearly.” he mutters under his breath, it’s condescending and sarcastic. It pisses you off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask sharply, cigarette now forgotten and steadily burning away at your side. 

Patrick shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You’re still so lost. I sure as shit don’t have a red, white, and blue track suit hanging in my closet, but at least I know who I am.” He doesn't sound angry, only sure of himself, like he may have been thinking about this for a while. His face is passive, body relaxed as he leans against the hard brick.

Your jaw clenches, anger running hot through your veins. He doesn’t know anything about you, hasn’t for over ten years. He doesn’t have the right to try and talk down to you, not after all the hard work you put in to get to where you are.

“My wrist alone is worth ten million. What are you worth now, Patrick?” You’ll be embarrassed about bringing up status later, you always try to stay as humble as possible, but you’re too mad to care. You just need to hurt him, to hurt him like he hurt you. You’d heard from a friend of a friend that Patrick’s parents cut him off a while ago, that he’s been slumming it ever since. “I know exactly who I am, I’m a fucking Olympian.”

The venom in your tone is sharp, each word from your lips like a knife stabbing through the tense air trying to draw blood. “You’re a fucking nobody, Patrick. You’re irrelevant. Washed up. Buried. Forgotten.” You pause when your voice starts to shake, taking a deep inhale of smoke to try and calm yourself. Your hand is shaking too, ash falls from the burnt out tip down to the gravel. Patrick just watches you, his expression doesn’t change. Smoke billows from between your lips, blowing away with the wind. “We’re not on the same level, not anymore.” 

Patrick’s unfazed, staring back at you with his cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes it between his fingers, letting his arm drop to hang at his side. “I’ve been thinking about you.” he says casually, head lolling to the side lazily. He looks at you through his lashes, eyes sweeping over your face slowly. “I was just thinking about you, and now you’re here. Right fucking in front of me.” he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “You look…” he trails off, green eyes taking in every inch of you. “You look amazing.”

Your pulse flutters wildly, you feel so light headed, like you could pass out any second. “I’ve missed you, missed you everyday since that night.” His expression is that same half cocked grin from before, all smooth bravado and easy smiles as if he’s not staring at you like you’re the very blood coursing through his veins. All the air drains from your lungs, mind racing what feels like a thousand miles per second. 

He sounds like he means it. He looks like he means it. He can’t possibly mean it.

A loud chant ringing through your skull is the only coherent thing screaming through all the mess. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking fall for it–

“Well I don’t miss you.” A lie. “You were nothing to me, Patrick.” Another lie. “You were just easy dick.” Your stomach twists painfully, like your body is physically trying to stop you from lying to yourself any further.

His face stays neutral, it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Patrick had a terrible poker face in college, you could read him like a book with a single glance. It was one of your favorite things about him, how expressive his face always was.

Now he’s just staring down the bridge of his nose at you passively, the picture of indifference. It’s another reminder of how long it’s been, that he’s lived a whole life without you in all that time. He takes a long drag off his cigarette, never breaking eye contact with you as he does.

His lips are slick and pink, just how you remember them. The beard isn’t so bad, it makes him look more rugged, more like a man. It’s the most drastic change in his appearance, far different from the smooth skinned pretty boy he was before.

He exhales, a long stream of smoke blowing past your ear. “What are you still doing here then?” he muses with a small shrug. He leans in even closer, slowly, like you were a cornered animal he didn’t want to spook. You can smell him, something woodsy with a hint of musk. You can see the clusters of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose, almost completely faded. “If I’m nothing,” he clarifies, simple, easy. “Why are you here?”

It’s a loaded question, one he obviously knows the answer to. It’s a dick move, forcing you to confront what you’re really feeling. Your eyes start to sting, complicated emotions welling up in your throat. “Fuck you Patrick.” you whisper weakly, all the bite in your tone getting lost in your dejection. Your lip wobbles warningly, you try your best to stifle it. You refuse to cry in front of him.

Patrick’s face does something funny, turning his eyes to the sidewalk. “I need someone like that again. Someone that isn’t afraid to fucking check me, that wants me to do better and not because they just see a check or a legacy or whatever the fuck else my parents expected from me. Someone that wants me to do better because they actually believe in me.”

The honesty in his voice takes you by surprise. He gets more worked up the longer he talks, chest rising and falling a lot faster than before. Rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.  “I fucked up that night, I know. Now my life’s a fucking mess, and I need someone to help make it make sense again.“ 

You scoff thickly, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight back tears. “And I’m that person?” you ask skeptically, brow raised in question.

“You always were,” he replies easily, his face forming into a sad smile. He almost sounds like his old self. Your brain flashes the image of Patrick leaning outside the door of your science lecture, waiting to walk you back to your dorm. He’s smiling wide enough to show teeth, looking down at you with brilliant green eyes, just like he is right now.

Suddenly, he wasn’t the boy that broke your heart on a tennis court twelve years ago. 

He was the boy that held your hair back when you threw up after drinking too much at a frat party and still stayed the night even though you didn’t hook up, his chest pressed against your back like a security blanket the whole night. He was the boy that let you make friendship bracelets on the handle of his favorite racket, and secretly kept the one you made for him braided around the neck for weeks until you finally noticed the fraying blue strings still in place when he forgot his tennis bag at your dorm room one night.

Suddenly he wasn’t anything but the boy you fell in love with when you were eighteen years old.

You swallow hard, heart pounding against your ribcage. Your cigarette falls from the slack grip of your fingers, plummeting to your feet where it burns out on the pavement. 

It’s like you lose control of yourself, like all your morals get shot out of a cannon into the sun. You’re lunging forward before you know what you’re doing, fisting the fabric of Patrick’s shirt and pulling him down to meet you halfway. Your first kiss with Patrick in twelve years.

It’s a mess of teeth clashing together roughly, with way too much tongue and spit to be classified as romantic. It’s desperate. It’s angry. It’s fucking filthy and it’s exactly what you need.

Your tongue forces its way between Patrick’s lips when he gasps in shock, mapping out the familiar territory of his mouth like muscle memory. His big hands fly up to hold onto your hips as he eagerly returns your kiss, pressing you up against the brick and sucking your tongue lewdly. He tastes like smoke and bottom shelf whiskey. You moan into his mouth, wetness starting to seep through the thin material of your panties.

You stay like that for a while, just kissing until Patrick slides the hard line of his cock against your hip strategically. You moan at the size of it pressing onto you through his jeans, breaking the kiss to inhale a couple lungfuls of air. “You’re not fucking me in an alley.” You say bluntly as he trails wet kisses down the side of your throat.

He laughs, nipping at your collarbone teasingly. “My car’s a block away,” he offers between kisses.

You think about it for a second. Deciding on whether or not you’re going to let Patrick fuck you in the backseat of his car like you’re two horny teenagers and not full grown adults.

“Lead the way.” Is all you say, finally letting yourself smile when Patrick starts to drag you away from the bar. 

You shoot your friends a quick text letting them know you decided to head home early, already in the uber you ordered when you’re actually letting Patrick drag you across a blessedly empty parking lot to an old SUV parked in the middle. A completely one-eighty from the Porsche he used to drive.

He takes a second to press you against the door, capturing your lips with his again. It’s a slower kiss, sweeter than the one you shared outside the bar. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach when he cups your face, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He fumbles blindly for the car door with his other hand, pulling it open and pushing you into the back. He follows closely, climbing in and shutting the door behind him.

Patrick’s back on you in less than a second, yanking at the buttons of your shirt impatiently, fingers too big to work them through the holes as fast as he wants to. He lets out a frustrated growl, grabbing both sides and pulling hard. The buttons all go flying in different directions, landing in different spots around you.

“That was three hundred dollars,” you mumble against his lips, not wanting to stop kissing him for even a second. He looms over you, broad and all encompassing. He sits up to yank his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside and popping open the button of his jeans.

“You can buy another one,” he says simply, shucking his jeans and boxers off all in one go. His dick is long and lovely, tip red and drooling pre-cum that drips all the way down to his balls. Your mouth waters, desperate to taste it, to feel the weight of it on your tongue and down your throat. You push it to the back of your mind. There’s no time for that, both of you too keyed up to do anything other than fuck.

Patrick leans down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. He turns his attention to your pulling skirt down, panties going with it and getting tossed onto the floorboard carelessly. His eyes zero in on your bare pussy, wet and on display. The cool air shocks your system, making you want to press your thighs together but Patrick’s hands keep you spread open.

“Fuck,” he whispers quietly, moving to roll the knuckle of his right index finger over your slick entrance, just barely rocking it into you. You gasp, your whole body trembling with need. “Just like I remember.” He mutters to himself, pushing in the smallest bit deeper. 

Your leg kicks out, patience starting to wear thin. “C’mon, Pat.” you mewl sweetly, bucking your hips up in a clear invitation. “Fuck me.”

Patrick shifts up onto his knees, silently shuffling closer to your spread thighs. His cock juts out from his body, so thick and heavy that it doesn’t point straight up, instead hangs angry and red between his legs. His big hands slide halfway up your thighs, you shiver at the way they skirt across your skin lightly. He presses you backwards by them, leaning over you with your legs slung across his shoulders.

His cock drags across your inner thigh, trailing a sloppy line of pre-come as it does. You nearly wail, wrapping your arms around Patrick’s broad shoulders as you beg for him to give you what you want.

“God Patrick! Put it in. Please, put it in. Let me have it, please, fuck–,” you beg frantically, arms tightening around his shoulders like you’re trying to drag him impossibly closer to you. He goes willingly, burying his nose in the soft skin of your neck. He presses a small kiss directly over your pulse.

“I’m gonna give you this cock, baby.” he whispers lowly, hot lips brushing against your skin with every word. He slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, stopping to rub it over your swollen clit a few times. “Gonna get all up inside you and fuck you exactly how you like.” He slides the length down, letting his tip catch on your empty, clenching hole.

You’re so damn worked up, writhing and pushing back and begging Patrick to just fuck you already, that you can’t take anymore teasing. Your hole contracts around the tip of his dick like it’s trying to suck him in. He sinks in deeper, slowly feeding every thick inch into your aching cunt.

“God,” Your name falls from his lips in a shuddery breath that fans over your fluttering pulse. “You still smell the same.” It’s the same stunned, breathless tone from when he first saw you. He presses his face cheek to cheek with yours, the rough texture of his beard scraping against your skin. 

Patrick moves his hips against you slowly, deep strokes that drag every thick inch of him against the walls of your cunt. The tip of his cock stabbing that sweet spot inside you that makes stars glow bright on the ceiling of his car each time you blink. The angle has his balls pressing against your cunt as he fucks into you, the excessive pre-come leaking from his tip mixing with the sticky wetness of your juices leaves an obscene ring of creamy white around the spread hole of your cunt. It sticks wetly to the base of Patrick’s cock with each thrust, shining back at you on his skin when he pulls out.

The slow thrusts feel amazing, but you know it’s not enough. You need him to pound into you, to bully his big cock into your cunt like he’s getting back at you for shutting him out. You need him to fuck you. 

“Harder, Pat…” you whine breathlessly, clawing desperately at the polyester seats.

He groans loudly, hips immediately speeding up, getting rougher, meaner. He leans up to get more power behind his thrusts, breaking your tight hold on his shoulders. “This is where you belong,” he grits out, sweat dripping from his forehead to fall onto your heaving chest. The sharp smack smack smack of his hips bruising your ass gets louder, the lewd noise filling the car. “Where you should have been this whole fucking time, spread open on my cock.”

The only thing you can even get out anymore are pleading whines and loud moans of Patrick’s name as he pounds into you like he’s trying to kill you. The harsh snap of his hips inching you further up the backseat until your head’s knocking against the doors handle on each mean thrust. Your feet bounce by his ears, body almost completely folded in half so all you can do is lie there and take it.

The car rocks steadily, anyone who spares a glance at the SUV will know what’s going on inside. 

Patrick sneaks a hand between your legs, fingers sliding over your swollen clit. You scream, throwing your head back in pleasure as the calloused tips over his fingers work you over. “Fuck yeah,” Patrick mutters, turning his head to lick and bite at your ankle. “You’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful. I missed you so much, missed this pussy.” His voice is pinched, hips fucking into you impossible faster.

The wet squelching noise of your cunt is filthy, splattering against Patrick’s heavy balls with each thrust. “I know she missed me too, didn’t she baby?” he taunts, eyes wild and blown out. “Taking my cock so well, squeezing me so fucking good.”

“Close,” you gasp out. Patrick pitches forward, licking into your parted lips as he rubs tight circles over your clit faster. He kisses you sloppily, smearing spit all over your lips and chin. His sweat drips onto your face and mixes with your own, it should be gross, but it makes you even wetter. The primal part of your brain overjoyed to be claimed by him. He lifts his fingers up the tiniest bit, smacking them over your clit with the smallest amount of force.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, back arching off the seat wildly as you gush around his cock. You claw at his back desperately, nails raking down his skin hard enough to leave angry red welts in their wake.

“Shit– that’s good, milk it out of me baby, work for this fucking load.” he groans, hips not slowing down as he chases his own release. His breath puffs over your skin, the rhythm of his hips starting to falter the closer he gets. You whine, trying your best focus on clenching your cunt over his cock in your fucked out state. “That’s it, baby– God – you’re gonna make me come, squeezing me so tight I can barely fucking move…” he growls, teeth sinking into your neck hard.

You hiss sharply, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure starts to become too much. He licks over the bite mark, like he’s apologizing. “Gonna fucking come inside you, fill you up so good, fuck–”

His rambling dissolves into a loud groan, hips giving one last thrust as he buries himself as deep in your cunt as he can. You feel rope after rope of warm come flood your insides, painting your walls with it. It feels like hours, him unloading into you with cut off moans and grunts. 

You're still desperately trying to catch your breath when he finally starts to pull out of you as gently as he can. The red tip of his cock popping free lets the river of his come leak out from your abused hole, spilling out of you to drip onto the car’s seat.

Patrick curses at the sight, scooping the white, creamy mess onto his fingers so he can fuck it back into you. You hiss at the over stimulation, thighs squeezing together around his hand. Your chest is still heaving, breathing erratic as you slowly come down from your orgasm. Patrick tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, smiling warmly as he takes you into his arms and shifts around until he’s sitting up against the door with you curled into his chest.

The windows are steamy, melting all the streetlights outside into a swamp of warm colors on the glass. They shine through the car like sunlight piercing through a stained glass window. You feel light and hazy, like you’re in a dream. Patrick’s body grounds you, firm and familiar against your back. It’s quiet for a long time, only the sound of soft breathing fills the car. You're scratching your nails through the hair on Patrick’s chest when he finally breaks the silence.

“There’s…” he says into your hair, trailing off near the end. He’s idly tracing shapes on your lower back. A circle, a square, a circle, a diamond, a square, a heart. “There’s this challenger in New Rochelle in a couple weeks, I’m entering it. You should come.” 

Your heart drops, the delicate cloud encompassing you and Patrick forcefully ripped away in less than a second. You’ve already heard of this challenger, seen all the publicity it’s been getting since Art’s name came up in the conversation surrounding it. The ‘Phil’s Tire Town Challenger’ is all anyone can talk about. 

If Art’s there, she will be too. Sitting in the stands in a classy Ralph Lauren two piece, watching her husband and Patrick on the court, looming over the two of them for the first time in years. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing her. You can’t stomach the thought of Patrick seeing her, terrified that the second she spares him a glance you’ll be right back where you were in college, an afterthought left in the dust for something better.

Your stomach lurches violently, you feel nauseous. The heat of Patrick’s backseat becomes almost unbearable, making it harder to breathe. You rip yourself away from him, tearing through the backseat to find your clothes. 

Patrick startles, sitting up with a concerned look on his face. “Jesus, what's wrong?” You can feel the warmth of his hands hovering over your back, not sure if he should touch. “What did I do?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Your throat feels tight, chest constricted and heavy as you try to take in lungfuls of air. You tug on your skirt and panties haphazardly, grabbing the first shirt you find strewn across the car's floor and yanking it on. You know it’s not yours but you don’t care, too busy trying to shove your shoes back onto your feet and push open the door all at once.

Patrick questions you the entire time, voice confused and insistent as you tumble out into the parking lot. The cool air feels like a life jacket, the smell of rain fills your nose as you try to steady your erratic breathing. You’re still trying to tug your right shoe on as you start to speed walk away from his car.

You can hear the sound of feet slapping behind you on the pavement as you walk. A strong hand wraps around your bicep, whipping you around. Patrick only has his pants on, shirtless and barefoot in his haste to catch up with you.

“What the fuck are you doing? What’s wrong?” He sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes searching your face closely. It makes tears burn hot at your waterline, blurring your vision and falling to trickle down your cheeks when you try to blink them away.

“This was a mistake, Patrick.” your voice is thick with emotion, you try to wrench your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, not squeezing tight enough to hurt but to try and keep you in place. You need to leave, to get as far away from Patrick as you can before you’re in too deep. “Please, let go.” Your voice is small, shaky and weak and so unlike you. The panic from the car is still wrapped around you, growing tighter every second you spend with him.

Patrick shakes his head wildly, raindrops slowly start to fall onto his bare shoulders. “No, fuck no! We can talk about this. We just need to talk–”

“Patrick stop!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, loud and desperate as you double your efforts to free your arm. “Please just let me go!”

You don’t know if it’s the way you said it or the look on your face, maybe it’s a bit of both, but something makes Patrick let you go. Dropping your arm from his grip and letting his own hang limply at his side.

Rain starts to come down all around you, large drops hitting your skin and soaking the cotton of your shirt. You let yourself meet his eyes, they're sad in a way you’ve never seen before. The green turned dull and lifeless. It looks wrong on him.

When you can’t stand the hurt look on his face any longer, you leave. Walking away deeper into the rain, small puddles splashing up around your shoes with every step. You hope Patrick doesn’t follow you, that he lets you go. You’re doing him a favor by making the choice for him, it’s easier this way.

“You know, I think I really loved you.” He calls from behind you as the rain really starts to pick up. His voice almost gets swallowed by the thunder, you wish it would have. 

Against your better judgment, you look back. Patrick hasn't moved, still standing in the middle of the parking lot. The rain is making his hair stick to his forehead, starting to seep into the denim of his jeans to darken the gray. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, voice tiny and pathetic. Patrick probably couldn’t even hear you over the wind whipping through the air. He stares back at you, there's too much distance for you to see the look on his face. You turn on your heels and keep walking.

It’s nostalgia in its sickest form, the dark familiarity of the situation washing over you with the rain as you walk away from Patrick again. Ignoring every call of your name and desperate pleas for you to come back is new, you can’t tell if it hurts more or less than the silence of last time.

You wrap your arms around yourself, tears mixing with the trails of rain running down your cheeks. It’ll make it easier to convince yourself later on that you weren’t really crying, that it was just the rain. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and this will all be behind you. Patrick will be fine, he doesn’t really love you. In a few weeks he’ll go to the challenger and forget all about you. 

You hear your mothers voice ring out in the back of your head as you walk.

"It's for the best, my love. Dependence is weakness."

You hope to God that she's right.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[cosmicanakin]

ꪆৎ AMERICAN MADE ﹒♱

੭୧ . . . soldier boy x female!reader.

ᯓ your encounter with soldier boy at the flatiron building proves he's nothing like his disappointing son, homelander.

warning(s) smut┆smoking┆mild degradation ( towards homelander )┆semi-public sex┆rough sex-ish┆mentions of past relationships┆strong language. 𓇼 so this was meant to be posted days ago… but i got super busy and totally forgot about it. but it's finally up <3 love me some soldier boy every once in awhile too. eighteen plus! adult content | minors do NOT interact.

　✧⠀ ⠀⠀　𓈒　⠀⠀ ⠀૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ꪆৎ masterlist

you hadn't expected to find soldier boy lounging on butcher's desk, smoke curling from his lips as he took another hit from his joint. the flatiron building was usually empty this time of night, save for butcher who you could hear talking in the other room.

"well. if it isn't america's former sweetheart," soldier boy drawled, his eyes trailing over you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "came to see the brit?"

you shifted your weight, suddenly aware of how alone you were with him. "i needed to discuss some things about homelander."

"that fucking disappointment," he scoffed, taking another drag. "you know, hughie told me about you. america's sweetheart turned rebel. gotta say, that's pretty hot."

the way he said it made heat pool in your stomach. you'd heard stories about soldier boy, about his reputation before payback turned their backs on him, but nothing prepared you for the raw magnetism he exuded. maybe it was because he reminded you of homelander — or rather, homelander reminded you of him. but there was something different about soldier boy. something more primal, more authentic.

"what else did hughie tell you?" you asked, taking a step closer.

soldier boy's lips curved into a smirk. "enough to know that you're wasted on my sorry excuse of a son." he stubbed out the joint and stood up, closing the distance between you in two long strides. "tell me, sweetheart, did he ever make you feel like a real woman?"

your breath hitched as he backed you against the desk, his hands gripping the wooden edge on either side of you. "soldier boy—"

"ben," he corrected, his breath hot against your neck. "my name's ben."

what happened next was a blur of sensations. his lips crashed against yours, tasting of marijuana and whiskey. your hands found their way to his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath his suit. he lifted you onto the desk with ease, stuff scattering to the floor.

"fuck butcher and his precious fucking desk," he growled, pushing you back until you were lying flat on the wooden surface. "been wanting to do this since i first heard about you."

your clothes seemed to disappear under his experienced hands, and soon you were bare beneath him. soldier boy took his time, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. "now this is what i call a view," he muttered, his voice rough with desire.

you could hear butcher still on the phone in the next room, his muffled british accent a reminder of where you were. but soldier boy didn't seem to care, and truthfully, neither did you.

he knew exactly how to touch you, where to kiss you, how to make you fall apart. each thrust was calculated, powerful, making you bite your lip to keep from crying out. his experience showed in every movement, every angle he hit perfectly.

"you're all mine," he growled in your ear, his pace relentless. "no other man gets to touch you, look at you, think about you. understood?"

you nodded desperately, your nails digging into his back.

"say it," he demanded, slowing his movements teasingly.

"i'm yours," you gasped, and he rewarded you by picking up his pace again.

the desk creaked beneath you, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if butcher would notice the scattered papers, the slightly askew angle of his workspace. but those thoughts disappeared as soldier boy brought you to the edge again and again.

when it was over, he helped you straighten your clothes, a possessive glint in his eyes. "you should come around more often," he said, lighting another joint. "might make these meetings with butcher more interesting."

you couldn't help but smile, even as you heard butcher's footsteps approaching. soldier boy didn't move away from you, if anything he moved closer, making it clear to anyone who walked in exactly what had happened.

from that moment on, everyone knew you belonged to soldier boy. the boys never commented on it directly, but they saw the marks he left on your neck, the way his eyes followed you whenever you were in the room, the possessive hand he kept on your lower back.

and honestly? you wouldn't have it any other way.

[disgustingtwitches]

"I like a tall woman with a nice big ass."

König x tall+curvy!reader. Love the idea of this uptight motherfucker getting with someone who is young and wild :)

MDNI

König is dragged out to a trendy club by his subordinates and he's awkwardly folded up in a seat in the corner of the club. The flashing lights and loud music give him a headache so he steps out into the smoking area. There you are with your girlfriends, yelling something about a 'hot girl summer' and pouring tequila into each other's mouths.

He can't really ignore your group; young, foreign, and rambunctious. He can't really ignore your long legs that lead to full hips that move side to side. He can't really ignore your pierced nipples or rounded breasts that almost bust out of your tight white crop top while you jump around. He can't really ignore how soft you look. He has to look away so all the blood in his body doesn't rush to his dick.

One of his subordinates walk up to him, concerningly drunk, talking about some bullshit he doesn't care about. He ushers him back to the group before ordering them to back to base. The group complains but complies. They don't even ask why he's staying behind.

He goes off to look for you. You aren't hard too find, taller than the gaggle of women that surround you. He just stares at you from far away. You stop mid conversation with your girlfriends, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. You look around and see him staring: a clear view of each other over the tops of everyone's heads.

As unsettling as his stare is, you were used to it by now. That's apparently how Germans are? You excused yourself from your group and walked over to him. Even in your heels he was taller than you. Something you weren't used to.

"Evening."

You put your hand out. He takes it, his hands are rough and his grip strong.

"Abend."

He replies dryly. There's an awkward silence. What a charmer, this one. It didn't really matter though, he was hot. He was still holding your hand... it was getting sweaty. You pull away and wipe your hand on your skirt.

"So, uhm... Nice weather."

You try to wrangle a conversation out of him.

"Yes, it is... agreeable."

You want to laugh. He was kind of pathetic. It made him hotter somehow. You convince him to take a shot with you, hoping to losen him up. You manage a few more words out of him; his age and "name". Or whatever he preferred to be called. Your girlfriends find and encircle the both of you. He immediately tenses up while they bombard the two of you with questions. You shoo them and they giggle walking off.

The rest of the night is filled with the same failed attempts at conversation. At this point it's just niceties, you're gonna sleep with him whether he talks or not. He knows that. You shoot a text to your girlfriends and share your location while he whisks you away to his place.

As soon as the door to his place closes, he pins you against the wall, grabs your neck, and plants deep kisses on your lips. It takes you back a little, expecting him to be a little more shy. But you're not complaining. You start tearing each other's shirts off, he audibly moans when your top comes off. He twirls his tongue around one pierced nipple, brushing a thumb over the other one diligently.

"So fucking beautiful, fits in my hand perfectly."

His wet mouth leaves a trail of sloppy kisses up your neck.

"Can you keep the heels on?"

He asks while unbuckling his pants. You oblige. He places a hand on your back and guides you to place your hands on a table in the hallway, making you face a mirror. You watch his face through the reflection as he lifts your skirt up, his eyes go wide. So soft and full. He's practically drooling, mumbling something about finally being able to stand and fuck someone properly for once. He pulls your panties to the side and flashes a goofy smile while rubbing himself between your slick folds. You'd laugh if you weren't absolutely horrified at how big he felt pressed up against your entrance. He looks up half-lidded,

"Fucking perfect for me, hm?"

Your knees almost buckled at his words. God, he's fucking hot. He teasingly slides his fat tip in and out of you until you beg for more, groans as he slides himself inside you. You clench around him as he gets deeper and deeper. Jesus, how much dick can one man have? He holds your hips and rocks back and forth slowly. Soft love taps to your cervix each time your hips touch his.

"Look."

He says while reaching to wrap a gentle hand around your neck to pull you back against his chest.

"See how good we look together, hm?"

You moan his name as he starts to pound into you. He's entranced with the way your soft ass bounces on his dick. He looks up into your eyes through the mirror while teasing your nipples.

"You take it better than anyone I've ever fucked before."

He kisses and nips your neck before he reaches down to grab both cheeks, spreading you out to get a better view of himself slipping in and out of you. The sight makes his dick jump inside you, which is an overwhelmingly delicious feeling. He leans over and snakes his hands around to the front of your thighs and squeezes them before sliding up between them, playing with your sensitive clit. He gets too rough with you. He thinks you can handle more since you're thicker and taller than most women he's been with. You can't. His dick is a battering ram. Your knees buckle.

"Come on mein Schatz, you can take it. Say you can take it."

How could you deny him? His voice is so soft and darling compared to the roughness of his actions. He grips your curvy hips and pulls them back onto his hips, hard. He fills you to the brim as you yelp. He didn't have a way to describe the way you made him feel. It was a nice change of pace from having to treat women like a piece of porcelain. He could rough you up a bit and you took it like a champ. He didn't have to bend in a way that made his back hurt the next morning. This was refreshing. He couldn't get enough. It went on for hours and hours.

"Made just for me."

He'd repeat into your ear every time you'd spasm around him. He folded you up and pounded into you until you couldn't see straight. He'd fondle every curve on your body, praising how nicely it bounced every time he strokes into you. You were supposed to fly out to England with your girlfriends the next day. Instead, he bought you a ticket to catch a flight after the weekend was over.

[rosiesmuts]

The Temptations of Jennie Kim

BLACKPINK Jennie

Words: 4,000

A/N: Boo! 👻

Jennie Kim is a pure unadulterated bitch.

Obstacle one is making it past the bouncer; having your name on the guest list makes that an easy task. Obstacle two is the sea of people; a VIP wristband solves that little inconvenience. Your expected prize for completing these side quests is a night of dancing, ending with divulging in the salacious body of a world famous idol. The light at the end of the tunnel is anything but. Obstacle three is something you couldn't see coming. That world famous idol has already found her seat, only it's on the lap of another man.

Your mind goes a million miles a minute trying to figure out a plan:

1) 'I should go up and confront her.' No, causing a scene wouldn't be good for anyone.

2) 'Fuck this I should just go home.' No, I can't let her just win so easily.

3) 'Fuck it, I'm already here, might as well grab a drink.' I guess this is the winner.

Probably not the best plan, but the one you've chosen.

"Don't tell me you're obsessed over her too."

An unfamiliar voice. Your eyes follow the voice, finding yourself face to face with a beautiful woman. It shouldn't be a surprise, this club is crawling with them. Too busy wallowing in your pity to notice her join your table and too late now to do anything about it.

"Huh?" Admittedly not the most suave response, but it's the one that comes blurting out.

"Jennie. Half the guys here are just sitting here staring at her, what's so special about her anyway?"

"Are you really surprised? BLACKPINK is a pretty big deal. Besides I want staring I was just-"

"Look at yourself, you're even sneaking in little peeks while talking to me."

Her hand is placed under your chin, forcing you to finally take a good look at her. You start to speak but she cuts you off.

"What’re you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

It's rare to see a woman take control. And here you were, sitting face to face with one. She flags someone down and orders you a fresh drink.

"What's your name?" You regret your lame choice of ice breaker the moment it's said out loud.

"Unimportant. Let's just have some fun and see where it leads."

Maybe there is a god. So far nothing you've said could be constituted as smooth, yet here she was, still giving you a chance.

Where things led was more surprises: first, a dance. A hot body pressed close and shaking, accompanied by a mind clouding cocktail of scents. Your eyes dart all over her: the glow of the mysterious woman's pale skin under the multicolored lights; her plump lips; her toned midriff.

"Still thinking about Jennie? I think you've got enough room to squeeze me in."

Both her hands come to rest at your hips, gently pushing yours forward and squeezing your body closer to hers. Your eyes lock, the music from the club fades out, and you find yourselves with your noses an inch away. This insanely hot girl, not the one you intended to spend tonight with, but not the worst thing you can think of right now. The tip of her nose brushes yours and her hands push forward one last time, the kiss can only be delayed a second longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jennie Kim has some nice timing. Just when you were about to give into this other woman, there was a tug on your shoulder and you're spun around–Jennie Kim's face, contorted with a mixture of anger and jealousy.

"You. Step the fuck back, he's not yours." Jennie shoves her hand out to your impromptu date, but that was apparently not an adequate barrier to keep her away. The girl comes up and wraps around your arm, not allowing Jennie to steal you away.

"He was until you got in my way."

"In case you didn't hear: step the fucking hell away." Jennie is nothing short of livid. People have stopped dancing, staring at the unfolding scene. Your new date notices the attention.

"Fine! He's not worth it anyway." And just like that your new acquaintance storms off, her hips and the smoke trailing from the bottom of her black dress being the last you'll ever see of her.

"Walk. Right. Now." Jennie drags you towards the hallway, likely intent on either berating or maiming you somewhere in private. In any other scenario it would sound like the fantasy of every man in South Korea, but right now you know it's bad.

A private room behind the dancefloor, a much better place to be killed and your corpse dumped than in front of hundreds of witnesses. She shuts the door with a slam hard enough you think it might shatter and locks it with an unnecessarily loud click.

"Who the fuck was that? You've only been here two minutes and you're already on top of another woman?!"

"Hey, hey, fuck you Jennie. Do you know what I saw when I came here? After you invited me? Oh you were totally there, sitting on another man's lap."

"That's not the same."

"Not the same my ass. Can you even begin to explain what it is then? No of course you can't. Because you're a spoiled fucking idol who does whatever the fuck you want."

You turn to leave, but are pulled back and receive a rough slap across the face. There's no pain, only the sudden red color filling up that side of your vision. She did it again. This time it brings with it the burning sensation. A stinging radiates across your cheek, an angry mark that burns more as the adrenaline fades.

Then in almost cliche like fashion you grab her face and slam her into the nearby wall, returning her slap with an aggressive kiss. Jennie doesn't try to pull away, in fact she gives just as much as she receives. If her jealousy made her slap, her frustration makes her kiss harder, her teeth digging in slightly at her efforts.

"Someone is still obsessed with me hmm~?"

"Fuck you." The reply is snarled out through the tears in your teeth.

"Why don't you? Make sure everyone out there knows who you belong to. You weren't even interested in that slut anyway. All you could think about was me."

Any rebuttal was silenced the instant a hand traced the outline of the bulge forming in your jeans. No words need to be said; she's right, there's only her. Her face, her smell, her voice. Jennie bites your collarbone through the shirt to try and get a rise and boy does it. A firm hand groping her behind and pulling her into you, meeting the hardness growing in your jeans. Jennie chuckles, enjoying the reaction.

"Do it. Go ahead."

Jennie fucking Kim. The girl of your dreams. The girl of your nightmares. You've fallen into her trap. What's happening right now can only be described as karma's cruel payback, an attempt to dangle your greatest desire right in front of your nose–before a final humiliating insult is slapped on it.

"You little bitch." Jennie taunts you, unraveling her flirtatious intentions as her skirt rides higher and higher along with your patience. "Go on. Put me through the wall. Pull it out and fuck me as hard as you can."

It would be too easy, wouldn't it? Giving her what she wants after what she did. Instead she's dragged to the couch and bent over you knees. Jennie yelps in surprise, before realizing what's coming to her.

SMACK.

"I didn't say stop." Jennie responds after feeling the forceful slap at her backside.

Another. Jennie cries out, before letting the sweetest sounds come tumbling out of her mouth. Your palm raises once more, pauses, and then swings down and impacts against the exposed skin. A large pink spot forms on the exposed skin as a result and you're starting to think Jennie is actually getting turned on.

"P-please."

"Well since you asked so nicely."

Her panties are brushed to the side and two fingers plunge in and begin exploring without any warning. Jennie squeaks and curls up at the sudden and bold invasion, but it doesn't take long before those two fingers find the sweet spot and stimulate a cascade of pleasurable electricity. In and out they go, aided in their efforts by the squelch of their occupant's excitement. The couch rocks as Jennie arches and bucks wildly, alternating between sporadic whimpers and full on screams of delight.

"I'm so close...so so close..."

Your fingers pull free then another smack against her ass again, interrupting her moment of bliss.

"You think you deserve to cum Jennie? Hmm?"

Jennie answers with an arch to her back, a long, sensual moan that turns into a low pitched growl.

"Yes...Yes...just let me cum please please."

She's grinding at the air, her desperation on full display. You're just a few seconds away from finishing her, of making this cute bitch cry out and go rigid as waves of pleasure radiate all the way from her groin to the rest of her body.

"Feel that pressed against your stomach Jennie? I think you need to suck it. Prove you deserve it."

Her feet meet the ground as she kneels between you legs, and with a final lustful glance, begins to pull away the zipper to your jeans. "You're a real fucker aren't you? Fine, I'll show you."

Down goes your underwear, tossed to the side of the couch, and up Jennie comes with the heaving package in her face. A tiny lick along the bottom of the shaft and then a more robust and adventurous one the entire length. No preamble this time, only the sudden heat and wetness as the girl with a history of petty remarks envelopes your member, coiling her tongue around the sensitive areas and sinking further into your lap.

This girl, Jennie Kim. How can she be so talented at such a crude act? The walls of her mouth shift in a thousand ways as she draws a throaty groan out of you, her tongue expertly knowing all the ways to drive you crazy. This fucking bitch, going deep, purposely drooling all over it, and looking up in satisfaction as she gags and chokes. Up and down she goes, swallowing and sucking back a mouthful every single time she rises. The picture perfect idol, loving nothing more than a throat full of cock, a wide streak of mascara under her eyes and spit all over her face.

The room grows ever hotter, the look in Jennie's eyes begging, imploring for you not to hold back. You sit upright and clutch onto her hair, fingers locking as tight as possible to guide her, taking charge of her bobbing head, sending yourself all the way up to your pelvis. Her arms are limp, her face is a mess, you've reduced a famous singer and model to a panting wreck, and that sight is almost too much.

"Fuck my mouth..." the pleads of the famous superstar when you let her up for air. Her request is granted, her hair gets pulled and the momentum carries your pulsating member all the way to the base. Inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter until the tip of her nose touches the pubic bone and her jaw is stretched as wide as possible, the outline of the member embedded into her throat.

The unholy gags are the hottest fucking thing ever. And the little flutters, her struggle not to cough, the spasms. Jennie Kim, proudest bitch alive. Choking and gagging on your cock, no thoughts in her brain of anything else but to please. She loves it, she wants it. More, more, more, always more, begging with her eyes the only way she could.

With a heavy gasp, you finally let up, letting her burning lungs draw air. While she is a coughing wreck, her face slick with tears and saliva, the thought that fills the forefront of her mind is exactly what's about to happen. The thrill, the idea, the exhilaration, she can't contain the giggling smile.

Jennie was a bad girl, touching herself while you fucked her face, showing off her fingers covered in her own juices and licking them clean. This woman was going to be the end of you, that smirk.

"You and that stupid ass cock." Jennie takes matters into her own hands, straddling your lap, lining up the tip. She's in control, now she'll decide just how far you'll sink into her.

"Dumb fucking whore." Your fingers wrap around her delicate neck. Her eyes widen, not in fear, but in excitement. They darken, her pupils dilating, the clear response to the aggression is reflected in a quickened pulse under the flesh. It isn't surprising the more forceful you get, the wetter she seems to get.

And holy fuck it feels so fucking good, Jennie's lower lips engulfing your tip. The walls of her cavern part and pull you deep within her, her breathing changes pace and volume, whimpering and panting as it sinks in further. She's warm, she's welcoming. Every inch is a bit tighter, the friction causing your heart rate to rise, and her arms, encircling you in a vice grip, coaxing a tighter hold on her throat. You can almost see the lightheaded effect it's having, the subtle shifts in her vision, the dream like daze that accompanies such euphoric sexual bliss.

Up and down Jennie bounces, the tempo of her breathing just a second out of synch, every moan coming just a second later. You don't try to hide your own pleasure either, groaning with a volume only a centimeter away from yelling and definitely noticeable beyond the walls. With a firm slap to the ass, her pussy responds in the best possible way; squeezing tightly for a moment and sending a pleasant shiver down your body.

Jennie fucking Kim. Her tightness, her perky tits, the fucking supermodel and worldwide heartthrob, riding you. That's a story to tell. The sight of this gorgeous bitch bouncing up and down like her life depends on it, the sound of flesh colliding reverberating throughout the room.

Her cries of pleasure come louder, with no sign of the fun ending any time soon. Another thrust and her eyes roll to the top of their sockets. The adorable scrunch in her nose, the contortion of the expression of carnal pleasure, the euphoria right after. The small smirk in the corner of her lips and the grinding of her hips into yours. She's close. Her face gives that away. Her walls pulsate, and if that doesn't sell it the pitch change of the moans certainly do. Her noises shift in timbre. Whines and loud whimpers, the sudden erratic nature.

There's no stopping her now, it's out of your control, and it's fucking beautiful. Jennie fucking Kim, cumming on your lap. Her thighs begin to spasm, a waterfall of juices spilling all the way down to the floor, pooling around your ankles. That fucking face, a cacophony of ecstasy. Then with one final, powerful groan, she suddenly stops. Her eyes shoot open and she curls up, freezing and grinding away. You pull her hair back, forcing the perfect idol to bare her neck and shriek, as her orgasm consumes her senses, her legs thrashing about and toes curled into their arches. Jennie fucking Kim came, her face red and a smile creeping upon the ends of her lips.

It's not over, not even close. Jennie's face a mask of desire, her breathing deep, still needing more, the short, panting breaths catching the tiny pieces of her hair waving across her face.

"Fuck me like you mean it." Jennie goads you on. Your hands wrap around her tiny waist, fingers digging into her flesh, and you start thrusting. Up into her body, down into her lap, each of her downward drops meeting a upward thrust, your hips meeting hers halfway. In no time her squeaky noises are echoing against the walls, your pelvic bones colliding hard, both of your bodies jerking about as you throw everything into each pump. Her eyes turn dark, a drunken gaze. Fuck yes, those lips curling back into a naughty, crazed smile.

"You can't fucking resist it can you?" Jennie screams the question, feeling your hands force her up and slam her back down with your hips surging forward. Her whole body lurching backwards from the impact and then snapping forward from the following motion. Another one, the smack of flesh meeting flesh resounding once more and the squirt of liquids spraying the air and wetting the sides of the couch. Jennie no longer cares, letting her body get fucked and then roughly jammed downwards and impaling herself repeatedly, filling the room with the loud slaps.

"You're nothing but a fucking whore aren't you?" You say it directly to her face and as expected the deprecating talk turns her on like nothing else. A genuine laugh followed by a growl and a "you want this tight pussy all for yourself?"

And another smack, a spank and a squeeze of her delicate ass. Her neck tilts backwards. Yes! Look into those deep pools, her gorgeous, intense stare. Losing control, that face, her mouth, it's open and wet and covered in saliva. That cute kittenish tongue sticking out of the edge of her lips.

Another thrust. Jennie's body flies forward from the impact, a lustful grin stuck on her face, burying your face in her small tits. Her chest jiggles with each pounding, a single moment of freedom followed by an instant of being engulfed in their softness. Those perfect mounds of flesh, enough to drive any sane man or woman mad with obsession, bouncing inches from your eyes, sweat coating their supple surface. Her giggle erupts and she sees that dumb smile plastered all over your face. Her nose rubs against your own. The stare is intense.

"We really fucking hate each other huh?" Jennie teases then goes in for a kiss. A sloppy, messy affair, her nails dig into your back, leaving a series of scratches as her pussy tightens around the engorged member within her. She's cumming again, the contractions drawing out another series of grunts.

"That's right, keep your dumb cock buried inside, you fucking love this tight pussy."

Oh how far this idol has fallen, the foulest mouth coming out the prettiest lips. Then she whispers in your ears to hold her hips tighter and fuck her harder, and fuck did you deliver. Her throaty groans filling your ears, a crescendo and a rapid beating pulse under your palms. You're close, this little superstar making sure you're as deep as you can be and clinging for dear life.

Jennie's hands wrap around your throat, squeezing, choking the life out of you, your vision blurring, and at the same time she's squirting a second wave and shaking violently. Her hips never stop moving, fucking herself silly. She doesn't stop, the nasty smirk has returned and a mumbled string of 'fuck fuck fuck' under her breath.

Jennie fucks you. Those perfect abs, her slim body, the smell of sex radiates all throughout. You're getting lightheaded, this cute piece of ass a violent whirl of raven hair and painful grip. The harder she orgasms, the harder she squeezes your neck. Then, stars start filling your field of vision and your vision goes white, the pulses start firing. Sick sadistic oxygen depravation brings one of the hardest orgasms in your life. That twisted smirk of the psychotic woman, the evil in her gaze as the heat fills the pit of her belly. She feels it, your load splashing inside of her womb. As you release, so do her fingers, the blood rushing back to your brain not a moment too soon.

Her expression, oh how proud she is for her conquest. You couldn't look anywhere else, this perfect devil in front of your eyes. The cute, tingly and erotic feeling flowing from your groin, it never stops and only grows, the continuous shots, emptying everything you have into her. This little fucking bitch, controlling you until the very end.

Jennie fucking Kim sits satisfied as you gasp for air, a mixture of confusion, satisfaction, and pleasure overwhelming your body. That beautiful little smirk, her hips rolling about, enjoying your final twitches before everything softens.

"See, now tell me that wasn't worth the wait."

Jennie collapses forward, a content sigh, a murmur in your ear about how her body feels. Your legs and feet tingle, a sort of numbness and buzz from the powerful waves of euphoria. Jennie stretches like a cat, all while nuzzling against your neck.

She leans in for a kiss, soft, gentle, uncharacteristically kind. Fingers thread into her hair, your palm resting against the side of her neck. She's warm, and tired, the once energetic and brash girl now settling down, almost vulnerable.

"You know why I keep coming back to you?" Jennie seems almost kind, running her hands through your hair and looking at you with loving eyes.

"Must be my big cock." You tease her, pinching her bum, and stealing another kiss in the process.

"Of course you can't be serious for a single fucking minute." Jennie shoves her shoulder against yours. "No you idiot. When we fuck, it's so fucking good. And look at you. Trying to act all tough, but when I tell you to fuck me harder you do just that. And when I tell you just like that you don't change pace for a moment."

The affection, her soft words. Jennie Kim loves to act hard, to show herself off. There's the world's most famous pop star, snuggled into your shoulder. Her finger tracing along the outline of your chin, the last few beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and her eyelashes. Jennie almost looks sweet, smiling down upon you. That signature gummy smile, the tiny dimple on one side. How can someone so rough, have such a charming side?

"Give me your jacket fucker."

Now this, this was much more of a Jennie thing to say. What a cute and silly request after something as passionate as what the two of you did. Jennie's sweat soaked body. Your brain is a fog, still lost in the moment, struggling to take the demand seriously, still looking at those flawless thighs, now tinged pink.

"I can't leave this place looking like this. You're taking me home. Don't think I'm done with you yet." The look in her eyes, that mischievous glimmer. A girl bent on devouring you. Her knee pressed against your crotch drives you back into reality. "Did you not get the fucking memo? Hurry the fuck up."

There is no shortage of nerve in this girl, and fuck if her confidence and commanding tone isn't doing anything for the part of your brain in charge of desire. If anything, you know she's not exaggerating, she still isn't fucking done. Not by a long shot.

It'll be another long night, the same pattern of anger and lust. Spoiled fucking idol Jennie Kim, turning you into a fucking puppet. Letting you do the strangest things to her in the middle of the night. That bitch. That perfect little devil.

And you wouldn't have it any other way...