#but can I please fucking shower? I feel so gross

[goldkirk]

I would love to understand why my brain and body are desperate to not shower in the safety of my own home but perked up at the offer to go shower at the gym that’s full of people I don’t know and men who could pin me and locker rooms with open doorways and less control over cleanliness than I can get in my own apartment. Something something the years of swim practice and swim meet locker room showers being safe I guess?

[phagodyke]

kind of annoys me sometimes how I can happily listen to my roommate explain the entire plot of whatever she's currently into but when it comes to my interests she can only listen for a few mins before wordlessly walking out of the room

[gloomwitchwrites]

I'm in a roll....

The 141 in grey sweatpants. 🥵

You're in a roll? Me too. A brioche roll. Or maybe a Hawaiian roll. Or rolled inside one of Price's many cigars. Kidding (not really). I knew what you meant.

And grey sweatpants...yes please! I am salivating over here. Literally drooling. And it's only grey sweatpants. No shirts. No shoes. Just sweatpants and muscle. (my god I need to go touch grass).

These are...spicy. How could they not be? It's our favorite men in nothing but grey sweatpants.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, suggestive themes, swearing, invitations for sex, dirty thoughts, sexual situations, married life, fade to black

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“It’s bedtime. Bath. Pajamas. Teeth.”

“But Dad! Lucy and I—”

“Bed.” You grin into your glass as John ushers the children out of the living room. “Come on you two. I want to kiss your mother.”

“Ew. Gross!” the kids screech in unison.

The trio disappears down the hallway. You hear water running and the laughter of your children. John eventually emerges thirty minutes later. He runs his hand over the top of his head, sighing heavily.

When he enters the living room and notices you, he grins mischievously. His body is on full display. Broad chest with a lovely dusting of dark hair that trails downward to disappear beneath the band of his grey sweatpants. John is all thick muscle. A wall of strength. You’ve always loved that about him. How he seems to take up so much space or the way he crushes you with his body when he goes in for a snuggle.

John plops down on the sofa beside you. The moment his ass hits the cushion, John grabs for you. You giggle, playfully pushing at your husband as his weight tips you back, pinning you to the sofa.

“The kids,” you protest with a whisper.

“They’re sleeping,” he replies just as softly, keeping you pressed beneath him.

John goes in for a kiss. It is sweet. Slow. Deep. Completely indulgent. There is so much of him. And his scent is everywhere. It fills your lungs. Makes you weak.

Your lips part and John slips his tongue inside. You start to soften, to lean into his kisses. Each is salt-laced passion. A tease for later. He might have you pinned against the couch, and his tongue down your throat, but John will move this behind a locked door.

As John goes in for another kiss, the sound of a door unlatching comes from the hall. John freezes and you go still beneath him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters.

Pushing up to a more seated position, John addresses the offender with a raised voice. “You best be in bed.”

There���s a gentle squeak, and then a door closing.

John sinks back down, resting his forehead against yours. He sighs heavily, and you give him a quick kiss. He returns it, and then snakes an arm under your back. He hauls you up and into his lap. You straddle him, hands pressed against his firm chest.

Through the sweatpants, you can feel his hardness pressing against your thigh. John’s hands roam downward to cup your buttocks, squeezing.

“Ready to take this elsewhere?” he asks, grinding his hips upward.

You have to stifle a moan.

“Please, John.”

With a light slap to your ass, he lifts you off his lap and onto your feet. The ground is solid. Steady. But then John’s hands return, and then you’re away, being guided down the hall to your bedroom.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You snuggle into the couch and crack open your paperback book.

Everything is in order. You have a glass of wine, a bowl of snacks, the tableside lamp on, and a cozy blanket. It’s late, but it’s officially the weekend. There will be plenty of time to relax.

“Reading out here?”

You glance up, and find Kyle in the entrance of the hallway, leaning against the wall. He’s shirtless. Without shoes. Just him, his freshly showered skin, and a pair of grey sweatpants. Kyle absently scratches at his chiseled stomach, head slightly tilted as he waits for your answer.

You can’t help but focus in on every line of muscle.

“Babe,” he prompts, laughing.

“Sorry?” you reply, blinking.

Kyle laughs again, the sound sweet. He strides forward, coming to a stop beside the sofa. He taps the side of his mouth. “Got some drool.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you giggle, checking with a quick wipe with the back of your hand.

Kyle’s smile is infectious. You can’t help but match it.

“Can I join you?” he asks, already lifting the blanket.

“You’re not going out with the boys?”

Kyle shakes his head. With one hand he lifts the blanket, and with the other he grabs your legs and lifts. He slides in, and drapes your legs over his lap before returning the blanket to drape over your body. Keeping one hand under the blanket, Kyle rests his hand on your inner thigh. It stirs heat in your core.

“Tomorrow,” he yawns. “Simon has a sick kid.”

“Bummer.”

Kyle shrugs, draping his over arm over the back of the couch. His hand on your thigh is a brand, and it’s only made worse when he starts massaging.

“Is it a spicy one?” asks Kyle, nodding toward your book.

Yes.

“Maybe,” you say slowly.

Kyle smirks, and then the book is out of your hand.

“Kyle!” You reach for it, but he twists, blocking your forward momentum.

He examines the pages in front of him. Heat rushes into your cheeks. As he reads, his eyes widen.

Kyle’s mouth drops open.

“What?” you prompt. You try to snag the book but he blocks you.

He glances at you. “Are you aware of where he’s putting that gun?”

“It’s fictional.”

“When you ask me to recreate things—”

“Kyle—”

“—is this what you’re talking about?” His gaze goes from you to the book and then to you again. “I’m down for a lot of things, love, but I’m not sure I’m down for that.”

Pushing off from the couch, you snatch the book out of Kyle’s hands. He surrenders it easily, a smile on his perfect face. The blanket is a crumbled mess beside him, but that’s not what you’re focused on.

The grey sweatpants have shifted, exposing more of the deep v of his pelvis. But it’s not just that. Kyle is hard. That is very clear.

He leans against the back of the couch, throwing both arms out to rest over the top. Flexing his hips, Kyle puts himself on display.

“I’ve got something else I can put inside you.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

A delighted shriek comes from the kitchen.

Johnny emerges, completely unbothered even with the two children in his arms. He has the oldest child, who just turned five, sideways and tucked under one arm. The boy has a wicked smile of his face even as he wiggles, trying to free himself from his father’s grasp. It’s fruitless.

The other child, a boy of three, keeps shrieking with delight even as Johnny lifts him into the air by his ankle. He is upside down, arms flailing, his brown hair hanging below him.

Johnny doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t even break a sweat. He carries the two of them like it’s nothing.

He’s almost completely naked except for a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips. They show off the deep v of his pelvis, and the dusting of dark hair that spreads over his chest and descends downward. You’ve touched that chest so many times. You know it as well as you know yourself.

Johnny’s gaze is on the television, watching the football match. The kids still shriek and playfully claw at him. But he remains unbothered.

Sitting there on the sofa, you consider that a third kid might not be so bad. You’d give him a small army if he asked.

Johnny glances away from the television, and when his gaze lands on you, it is entirely knowing. Heat curls in your belly, and his smile widens.

“Found these gremlins digging in the pantry,” he says, indicating the kids by hoisting the three-year old higher into the air and squeezing the other tighter against him.

Both kids giggle manically.

“After brushing their teeth.” Johnny tuts. “What’s to be done?”

Both children continue to giggle, not answering their father.

“Sounds like it’s time for bed,” you muse.

The children groan.

“But I’m not tired,” moans the five-year old.

“Too bad,” laughs Johnny. “Come on.”

He doesn’t put them down. He carries them like that all the way to their bedroom. Even from your spot on the sofa, you can hear their manic giggling. After a while, it quiets down, and Johnny emerges from the hall.

Instead of sitting down on the couch next to you, he grabs the remote and shuts off the television.

“Not interested in the game?” you ask.

“Nope. Want something else.”

His sultry smile tells you enough.

Slowly, he approaches, coming to a stop in front of you. He offers his hand, and you take it. With little effort, Johnny brings you to your feet, and hauls you close. Your free hand immediately rises, pressing against his chiseled stomach.

“What is it that you want?” you murmur, already knowing the answer.

His hardness presses against your belly, his voice going low and gravelly as he speaks. “I’d like to spend some time between those gorgeous thighs.”

“Doing what?”

“Whatever I very well please.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

This is agony. A terrible joke.

Simon is right there. Sweaty. Shirtless. In nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants.

He’s completely in the zone. Heavy metal blares through the stereo’s speakers, drowning out the sound of his gloved fists striking the punching bag. Morning light pours in from the open window, giving Simon an ethereal glow.

You watch from the doorway, chewing on your bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to pounce on him. Simon is all muscle, and not in a gym rat way. He is thick everywhere. You want to lick the sweat from his skin, to drop to your knees before him, and tug those grey sweatpants down.

You know what you’d find. And it sounds delicious.

But he is in the zone. And you won’t disturb him.

Pushing down the naughty thoughts, you start to turn away, to return to the kitchen and find something to eat for breakfast.

The music abruptly cuts off.

“See something you like, love?”

Simon’s raspy voice draws you back to the room. With one hand on the doorframe, you meet his gaze, and promptly melt into the floor. He has a cocky grin on his face, and his shoulders heave slightly from exhaustion.

You lick your lips. “Always,” you reply, fingers digging into the wood.

Simon’s gaze scans you. You feel exposed, like he can see through your clothes. It’s knowing. Amused.

“What is it?” you prompt, staring just as hard as he is.

Simon removes one glove and then the other. He tosses them to the side, never taking his eyes off you.

“Come here,” he says.

You don’t move.

Simon arches a single eyebrow. Instead of repeating himself, he gestures with one finger, indicating that he wants you to come to him.

Heat rushes from your cheeks down to your toes. Slowly, you peel yourself away from the door, heading for him. Simon’s natural swagger is alluring, and those sweatpants sit so low.

Just one tug. That’s all it would take. And you’d be able to take him in your mouth.

As you approach, Simon reaches out, grabbing your waist, tugging you close to him. You instinctually hook your finger in the waistband of his grey sweatpants.

Simon smirks.

You inhale deeply, savoring the manly musk of him.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Not for breakfast,” you sigh.

“For something else then?”

You nod.

Simon leans in but doesn’t kiss you. He holds back slightly, lips curved into a hint of a smile. “Want to hear what I have in mind?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

Simon presses his thumb on your bottom lip. “I can fill that mouth.” His thumb drops away from your lips, and trails over your chin before brushing over your stomach. “And belly.”

His gaze stays on you. “What do you think of that, love?”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@taysarchive @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 hushed fantasies ¡

pairing brother's best friend¡nicholas chavez x fem¡reader

summary thinking you were messaging your friend, you accidentally sent your brother's best friend a thirsty paragraph about him, with Nicholas opening it before you get a chance to delete it. what you were not expecting was the leading conversation, causing realization to wash over you as he hints your desire is not one-sided after all.

contains suggestive, sexual tension, a bit of dirty talking, a brief kiss, flustered reader, cocky nic, hes also very freaky (uhh???)

a/n this is the silliest thing ive ever written i was giggling the whole time while writing it. likes and reblogs are v much appreciated!!!

word count 1.7k

You: the amount of self control i have is insane because why do i not have this mans dick in my mouth rn please i need nic so fucking bad its not even funny anymore he is everything i want in life id let him use me any day morning afternoon n night im available ugh i dont even get the ick when its him he was acting like a dad earlier yelling at us to grill the meat right and it was so adorable ill call you daddy u want me to call u sir i dont kink shame im down for whatever king omg stop he got hurt earlier and he GROANED???? i almost fell to my knees YAHOOO he definitely whimpers #needthat 10/10 i just know its thick ooh tip pink shade #d97e77 thats insane till my knees are bruised and my throats scratched my panties fell tears are rolling down my thighs OMG PLS can you feel my pain hes so bodangshis how does my brother look at him and not wanna fuck him id be all over him if that was my friend gahhhd!!! hes actually so sweet he kept speaking to me earlier so i dont feel left out of the conversation and i find that adorable do u think he slaps it before he cums oh my his girlfriends so lucky im ab to put her in a headlock ahaha this is gross no man should have this much of an impact on u unless their dick is big and the sex is absolutely amazing yooo what he probably knows how to please a lady id be hard if i had a dick rn STOPP he has a happy trail im gonna lose it hahah lets find out where it leads i dont wanna think ab that im going crazy literally pulling my hair out that should be u baby GIVE ME A CHANCE?!!!! thinking ab him makes me so nervous this is getting a little too srs ahaha okay im sorry hows life?!? i miss u :(

Sending that message, you were anything but expecting the response you got in return, not from the man himself, that’s for sure.

nic: oh?

nic: i think you got the wrong person

You audibly gasp, realization washing over you as you read over the message. That was, in fact, not for Nicholas, nor was it for anyone but your friend to see.

You panic, putting your phone down to process what happened, needing a moment before responding. Right, you needed to do that.

But why did he see it so fast? He didn't even give you time to comprehend your message, the text switching to read in an instant.

Hell, it was midnight, and it’s been a long, tiring day for the both of you, having been out the whole afternoon, merely to come back to the hotel and spend more time with your other friends.

Everyone decided to end the night off early; early being a bit before midnight, with you heading to your room afterwards. Your brother and his best friend shared the room taking place next to yours, making it easy to reach out to him.

And for that, you were grateful since Nicholas was with him; meaning you got to see more of him throughout this trip.

You’ve had a crush on Nicholas for god knows how long, with it starting the moment your brother befriended him. You’ve technically gone through all the phases he experienced, hell, you saw him more than your own parents.

He was sweet, a little too sweet, perhaps it bothered you. Nicholas was very known among women, he knew how to attract a lady, showering her with praises until he eventually got what he wanted.

That made you extremely jealous, knowing you couldn't have him. He was forbidden, off-limits, someone you could only admire from afar.

And that stupid crush of yours led to this conversation, one you didn't want to discuss.

You: i didnt mean to send that to you

The text switched from delivered to read right away, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

nic: clearly

nic: i dont have a gf btw

Why did he feel the need to clarify that, and why were you relieved over hearing it?

You buried your face in your pillow, feeling heat reduce from your body. You’ve never been this embarrassed before, not around Nicholas. While you were weird sometimes, it was never this bad.

He wasn't supposed to know about this, nor discover it the way he did.

You: cover your eyes pls

You: this wasn't for u

nic: you sure?

nic: are there any other nics in your life?

Your stomach twisted at the message, hand coming up to cover your mouth as an audible gasp escaped your throat. How could he say that?

You felt all sorts of emotions wash over you, unable to process each one of them as you read the message over and over again.

You: what if there is

The question was risky, it could either end with him telling your brother, or him teasing you over it and brushing it off. Either way, you couldn't have him, so why not just fuck it and go with the flow?

nic: then that would be disappointing.

Your breath caught in your throat, vision going blurry as Nicholas’ bubble kept appearing and disappearing.

nic: id really hate that you feel this way about someone else

Oh my god, were you dreaming?

You could not believe your eyes. You turned off your phone, letting the dimness of the room seep through for a moment before you unlocked your device once again, heart skipping a beat when you realized it was real.

Nicholas, your brother’s best friend, might have been flirting with you, but that’s just in your head, right…?

You: ??? wdym

nic: you first

nic: was this about me, doll?

The pet name made you weak to your core, spiraling you over the edge as you put your phone down for a second. You took a deep breath, feeling your face heat up at how suggestive the boy sounded.

He sounded so desperate, you weren't sure if it was the tiredness, or him being genuine. Either way, you’re fucked, because you’re willing to do anything for him, even if it means breaking your heart.

You: what if it was

You: what will you do ab it

You felt nauseous as you waited for a response, groaning when the boy disappeared for a minute. Did you say something wrong? Why did he suddenly leave?

nic: then id risk it all

Speechless. Your mouth hung open, chest filling with lust as a breath heaved out of you.

You: are you saying this because you’re tired

nic: no

nic: god no

There was no ounce of self control in your body left. You almost screamed, overwhelmed by a new sense of emotions.

Is this how it felt? Because fucking hell.

You: it is

nic: it is what?

You: this is so embarrassing

You: why are you making me admit it you know exactly what im talking about

nic: baby

nic: jus tell me

You: no you suck im going to sleep

nic: WAIT no come here youre so cute

You blushed at the message, unable to suppress the smile forming on your lips. God, he’s such an idiot. And you were totally swooned for him.

You: i literally just sent you a message talking ab how much i wanna suck your dick what about that is cute

nic: oh? so you do admit it

You: …

You felt nervous, realizing how serious this has gotten. From a silly message turned into you contemplating whether this was a good idea. The last thing you were anticipating while typing that message was a confrontation, one from Nicholas; at that.

nic: you couldve told me yk

You: do you hear yourself

nic: ? what

You: nic you know this is wrong

You: youre gonna wake up tmr and forget all ab it

nic: you knkw

nic: yoirw so fucjinf hot

You came to a halt, noticing the amount of mistakes the boy was making. Your mind wandered somewhere else, feeling heat crawl past your neck, all the way to your face.

You: what are you saying

nic: fucking hell

nic: take the hint baby

You froze in your spot, tongue coming out to wet your lips, suddenly feeling heat travel to in between your legs. Don’t give in, don't give in, don’t give in.

You: what

nic: you couldve asked me if you were curious

nic: i wouldve happily showed you

That sent you over the edge. Your mind went fuzzy, unable to process the last few texts you received from Nicholas. He was being serious, dead serious, you were sure of that.

The texts you exchanged always revolved around your brother; usually Nicholas asking whether he was home or not. However, this one was different.

He was hinting something, something very risky that you were unable to resist.

You: dont say that

nic: what, you don't believe me?

You: nic

nic: give me five

You stared at the message on the screen, confused on what he meant. Your eyebrows furrowed with puzzlement, awaiting a message, merely to get nothing in return.

As you were about to shut your phone and go to sleep, it pinged, the notification startling you awake. You clicked on it immediately, mind going hazy as you read the message over and over again.

nic: open the door

nic: im outside your room

You didn’t hesitate as you got up, swiftly walking your way to the door. You unlocked it with haste, vision going blurry as you caught sight of Nicholas, who was standing inches away from you now.

He looked just as desperate as you were, maybe even more. And that was it, it was all you needed to pull him by the collar and cease the distance between you two.

The moment his lips collided with yours, you realized that maybe it’s worth ending up with a broken heart, because Nicholas tastes fucking addicting, and you found every way to make good use out of that obsession.

The possession of knowing he’s off limits, yet here he was, eagerly kissing you numb.

[iwriteyanderes2023]

Yandere Socialite (Fem! Yandere x Fem! Reader)

Divider credits: @/anitalenia

Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female

(8941 words)

You regretted agreeing to this.

Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.

They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.

You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.

Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.

You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.

You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.

Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!

Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.

"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.

"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.

"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"

"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"

You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.

The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.

"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.

"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.

"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.

"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.

But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.

You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.

There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!

She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.

The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.

You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.

She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.

Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."

You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.

You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-

"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"

A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.

You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.

He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.

"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"

"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.

His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.

"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.

Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.

You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.

"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."

Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?

You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.

"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."

Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.

"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.

You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.

"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."

You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.

"Duh." She bobbed her head.

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.

"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.

You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.

"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.

You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.

"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.

You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.

You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.

"Heyy..."

You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"

"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.

You asked if that was really necessary.

"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.

All you could do was nod meekly.

Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.

"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.

You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.

You asked what you should call her instead.

"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."

You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.

You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.

"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."

You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.

She shook her head defiantly.

"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."

You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.

A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.

"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.

"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."

You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.

"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.

You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.

You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.

Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.

You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.

You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.

The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.

When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.

You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.

She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.

The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.

In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.

You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.

It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.

"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"

The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.

"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"

"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"

"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"

"Really!? The rapper!?"

You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.

Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.

Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.

You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.

Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.

"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.

You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.

"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.

Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.

You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.

It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.

"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."

You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.

So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.

It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.

"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.

You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.

"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."

You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.

For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.

It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.

You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.

It's getting late, you should leave.

So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.

She frowned. "Boo. Boring."

You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.

"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.

You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.

"They don't close til 10."

Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.

She stuck her tongue out at you.

"Fine. But I'm driving you home."

You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.

"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.

Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.

The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.

It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.

It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.

Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.

"Stop working letz go shopping"

"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"

"nerd :-P"

"im boreddddddddddddd"

"go clubbing with moiiii"

"letzzz goooo"

"stop ignoring me :-("

These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.

But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.

You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.

"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.

In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.

Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.

A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.

"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"

You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.

"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."

You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.

For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.

All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.

She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.

It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.

It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.

Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.

You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.

You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...

"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.

She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:

"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!

"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.

"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.

She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.

But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.

You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?

"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.

"I didn't like my order."

You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.

"They didn't make it right!"

You asked her what made her think they made yours right.

"They just do!"

You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?

She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.

You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.

This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.

But she chose and bought you these clothes...?

You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.

"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.

You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.

"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.

Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.

"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."

Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.

Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.

You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.

Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.

"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.

You said you can't. You have work to do.

"Says who?"

You said your boss.

"Who's your boss?"

For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.

But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.

"Tell her!" She demanded.

"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."

Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.

"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.

You looked at her. How could she just do that?

"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.

It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.

It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?

It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.

It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.

But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.

So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.

And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.

Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.

You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.

You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.

It didn't last long, though.

There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.

Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.

The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.

Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.

She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.

However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.

"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.

You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!

You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?

The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.

"You."

Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.

You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"

This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.

You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.

"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.

"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"

You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.

"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.

You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.

She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.

You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?

You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.

You regretted agreeing to come to the city.

She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.

Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.

She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.

Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.

But now...

"Sit."

You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.

Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.

"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.

You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.

She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.

"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!

You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.

"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.

You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.

"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.

"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.

You nodded and let out a muffled yell.

"Roll over."

You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.

"Play dead."

You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.

"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.

You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.

"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.

"Open your legs."

She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.

"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.

You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.

You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.

Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.

Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.

[cryptfile]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ holy terrain!!!!!!, [ homelander x supe!reader ]

SUMMARY— based on a request aka when you arrive to vought’s tower covered in blood, you certainly don't expect to enjoy John’s comfort after feeling so numb.

WARNINGS — +18 minors dni, implied fem! reader, homelander is a warning himself, usual the boys content, mentions of murder, violence, reader matches homelander’s freak ngl, always wash your hands before fingering #PLEASE, blood kink at it's best, degradation (blink and you’ll miss it), dirty talk, porn without plot sort of?? lmao blame it on my hormones.

SIDE NOTES — hi there, this is a result of me going feral in this new season. English's not my first language, so please be kind, any mistake it's my own fault sorry in advance. Hate this mf but wont deny I wouldn't fuck him to calm him down. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me!

The smell is under your nose.

At first it didn’t bother you to feel the warmth of it, you’re not disgusted by blood. But it’s everywhere. Fucking everywhere. Sticking in your face, staining your damn suit, pooling beneath your feet.

You can feel your own breathing, yet, you're numb to everything else. The screams of terror and the sudden silence of the killing are now something similar as a long-time-ago memory, a distant thought you cannot bring yourself to care about.

And when you came out of the elevator, you don't care about the other people looking at you either. The Vought personal that were always running in the floor, Ashley, or fucking Noir at the matter thinking you're Carrie or something, no one dares to talk to you even when you’re a mere sidekick, too afraid of your explosive personality to even demand to know what happened.

It's almost like you asked for it, to be left alone, to not deal with anyone but your own judgment.

So when you cross the hallway to your dormitory dreaming about a warm shower, you don't expect to see him inside, your relationship with Homelander being too sporadic to even catalog it as one. Yet he's there like it's his house, and you're too tired to even ask why he's there in the first place.

"There you are," he says, but you hear his voice like he's talking miles away from you instead of the couch where he really is. "Something was telling me you were having a rough day."

"Don't remember anything about inviting you to my room" he doesn't care about your tone as he walks closer to you, usually, when he speaks, he only seem to listen to himself. "Didn’t give you a key."

He's oblivious at your words, instead, he seems to be too lost in his own way of seeing things, just waiting for you to say something similar to what you’ve already said in his mind. To admit something like you missed him all day long, that you've been thinking about him as much as he's thinking about you, to fed his ego like only you can do after only a few times of sharing intimacy.

The air is thick, making it harder to breathe as he plants himself in front of you, blue eyes scanning your face as his fingers touched your hair, toying with the strands glued together with blood — Even if it’s gross, he don’t seemed moved by it, mainly, you think, because he’s been through the same too.

"Don't need a key to show up," he laughs like it's obvious, and you look at him like he's having a rougher time than you. "This is my building."

It's almost a reminder for you, that you're living under his roof and have a place on his team because he just wants to. Even when you always do the dirty job no one dares to do, if you save his ass more times you can count, he still remarks you’re living in his world.

“I know,” you fight the need to roll your eyes to the back of your head while responding. It’s something you remind yourself sometimes, how most of them are just plain stupid, always treating you like you were no better than fucking Deep.

The stink under your nose is annoying and your skin feels sticky at the touch so you’re almost begging for just ten minutes of privacy.

“I just missed you” he says in a low voice, almost ashamed of admitting something he would never even dare to say out loud, a sudden verge of vulnerability, strange raw honesty as he looks at you. “Didn’t you miss me too?”

You know the only way of really control him, how to make him do exactly what you want to do, so you let him. Let him act all needy and weird cause you want John wrapped around your finger, unable to think on his own. You want him to believe, whole-heartedly, that in the end he’s the one coming up with the great ideas when it's you every single time.

You don’t find it cruel, he’s the same with you and he deserves it, so when Homelander bites his middle finger to grab the fabric of his gloves and pull it off, you let him touch you, treat you like this lost-dove-in-trouble he loves to see — “Had an awful day. Just wanted to see you,” like that. The correct combination of words and he looks like he got fucking shot by a celestial force, mesmerized. “Always missing you, babe.”

He’s sold by the moment, that tone you use, that little nickname that gets him, the sound of your heartbeat slightly faster than before, not enough to catch you lying, but enough to show you’re indeed, happy to see him as well.

He's pleased, so the next is unexpected to say the least, and you hate every second of it when he carries you like you two are married or something similar, sitting in the sofa with you on his lap.

“What are you-”

He shushes you, and you cannot finish what you’re saying when he pulls you to his chest, the fabric of his suit against your cheek as he, weirdly enough, hugged you close, the sound of his heartbeat instead, loud against your ear as you can feel him breathing beneath you, an steady rhythm as the silence filled the room. It's weird sometimes, to think he's human as well before the compound V.

“Comforting you,” he says in a low voice. His bare hand now grabbing your tight enough to bury his fingers in the covered skin, squeezing it lightly as first, nothing you cannot control. And it's beyond doubt what he truly wants, the way his nose inhales the scent of your body like it's fuel, the blood mixing with your fragrance — "M' here now."

He likes it almost more than his own smell. Almost is the key, cause he cannot help but wish you'd stink like him after waking up next to him that very same day. The thought wakes something new in the alleged superhero, something that stings in his stomach, plaguing his mind with the thought of getting all that he wants, to mark you as his property as he has done before.

He cannot get enough. Of course he can't, he's used to have it all now, to never ask but take. That's why he bites your shoulder, why he didn't mind getting his hands dirty with you and your sticky suit, why he's not grossed out by anything, but instead, turned on by how much you needed him.

But in reality it's the other way around, cause Homelander's the one that pulls you closer, that kisses you like you're something heavenly, just like he is. He's not gentle, yet he knows you like it that way, that you're into that rough force he's used to and would kill any normal person in result.

"Who let you go on that mission on your own, huh?" He asks, concentrated in your suit, pulling it down slightly just to reveal the naked skin under the fabric, clean skin in contrast of all the red. "Seems like they all forgot we're supposed to work together."

You don't get why it feels so nice at first, why the hand on your hip moves through your body like you need some kind of reassurance after all you went through the day.

"I'm okay" you manage to say, the pure need to remind him you're good enough to make things on your own, some kind of memo that explains clearly that you want the same benefits he has. It's useless however, when he has you like that, making you tilt your head to the side, placing random bites in any sight of exposed flesh.

"You're hurt" he says, making you aware of your own body as he presses one hand against the injury on the side of your ribs. He's fucking sick for it, and it doesn't give you any time to react when his fingertips are pushing against the cut, your suit staining with your own blood as you mewl on top of him. "Clearly hurt."

He's drunk on depravity, lost on the face you make when the pain hits you all sudden, stealing the air from your lungs. He's suddenly hard beneath you and his hand's now rest on your hip making you move on top of him, hungry for anything he can get out of you, any little sound you make so focused on keeping quiet, trying so hard to not to fed on his bullshit.

The friction is unbearable, the fresh blood coming out of your now-opened wound, the slight force he uses to tear your suit apart like its nothing, giving him more space to work with as he seemed desperate to have you close. It takes you far from where you were first, the numb feeling that grew like a parasite your stomach swallowing it all, now instead, too sensitive to his touch.

Yes. You hate him for it, hate that it's too easy for him, the traumatized hero with too many issues, the world's strongest man that somehow manages to make a mess out of you just with something so simple as sitting on his lap.

He's so pleased when you moan, when you say his name and you forgot about mannerisms, he needs to pull out his other glove in response as his blonde hair falls over his face, throwing it to the floor as his bare hand is now able to rip apart your suit effortless. The warmth of his palm cups your now bare breast for him, and he leans into your chest, tongue flickering in circles over your nipple as you let out a strangled moan.

"Common, need you to use your words here," he demands for a moment, almost annoyed as you can see the traces of saliva that connected you to his mouth: Why does he look so good? Fucker. "Cause if you don’t stop me now I’ll reduce your suit to ashes.”

“Don’t care,” you know Ashley’s going to be pissed, yet it's not enough to say anything about it. "Fucking hate the suit anyway."

"Such a dirty mouth" you're tugging his hair, hand on your kneecap pulling it slightly to the side as he forces you to open your legs for him. "What can I do with you?"

There it is, the ripped sound of his hands tearing the rest of the fabric apart, the pliable desperation in his touch, grabbing, kissing, and palming the curves of your body as it's holy terrain, unstudied land. He's caught in the smell of your skin finally mixing with his, the way your hips grinded in need for a deeper contact.

He laughs at you, laughs at that sight of defeat when he finally slides the hand that was on your knee under the ripped leavings of your now-destroyed suit. Of course he fucking loves the way you're speechless all thanks to his efforts, that you're unable to keep still as you straddle him now confident he's not repulsed by your dirty nature.

"Did you get turned on by killing?" He asks, and you try to respond something like he's clearly dumb. "Been smelling you since you've got here. All wet, covered in blood."

He's far from lazering you, but you can feel the weight of his gaze almost trespassing you when his hand finally reaches that nice spot between your legs and feels your drenched underwear beneath his fingertips. He can feel it all, and you are aware of it.

He's driven by the sounds of your heartbeat, the way your skin glimmers with sweat, he knows you're enjoying every second of it, his fingertips fondling on top of the cloth moments before pulling it to side. The warm contact with your cunt is enough to make him lose it, enough to make him succumb beneath you as he explores the folds of your aching core, his other hand holding your hip just to keep you in place.

John seems to forget, always does. Cause his grip turns beyond bruising and you can hear the crack when he moves you against his hand, a new broken bone to added to the list as he's unaware to the sound it produces, the pain that makes you shake violently blending immediately with pleasure.

You can take it. You're tough and a big girl who's taken worse, so you don't whine about it knowing you must be healing already, instead, you let yourself be trapped in that haze he created, the sounds of your sex when he hits that very spot you overly-enjoy, digits slightly curving inside as he’s experiencing the velvety feeling of your walls colliding against his hand.

"That's it, keep the show for me.” He loves praising so much since you told him he’s doing good one time, he needs to do the same for you at the first chance he got while you offered yourself to him, riding his fingers. “Such a good slut.”

He’s concentrated in the way his fingers disappear inside of you, the intense smell of blood and sex that now fills the air as you moan out his name, the red droplets in your face much like freckles, far more wicked than pure marks on your skin.

“So nice, so warm,” he says to himself, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your chest as he marks your skin like you’re all his.

He’s sure he’s alleviating your problems, sure he’s making you feel so much better, thumb tracing circles in your swollen bud as he stole cries of pleasure from your parted lips.

You don’t let him know you’re close but he can sense it, the slight change in your breathing each time more erratic, your heartbeats quickening their pace as you got closer to the edge.

And when you really finish, when you’re done riding your high, you grab the remains of your teared suit and look at him with that damn smile he loves. You know he’s expecting to receive anything back, any favor you’re willing to give in return.

But instead, when you got off his lap, you just caress his cheek gently before saying — “See you later, John? Kind of busy now.”

my masterlist

[quarterlifekitty]

reader who doesn’t mind when the tf141 boys don’t shower cause they like the stink.

I’m sorry I’ll shut up now

Please never shut up. Say whatever you want forever.

cw: scent kink. Unsanitary. So nasty

I think Gaz has the highest standard of personal hygiene on the team (his beautiful skin doesn’t come for free), and his usual instinct is to shower. He’s the kind of person who can’t relax feeling gross. So while he loves you, man is probably gonna keep showering all the time. He does think it’s really funny when you ask if he’s showered yet and whine when he says yes.

Soap is one of those people who’s like “fuck the shower” every time he’s not in the shower but once he gets into the shower he’s like “fuck being out of the shower”. Anyways I personally believe he also has a major scent kink and he’s almost too comfortable being unwashed and sweaty, and he totally embraces you liking it. Always asking you if you wanna get a good whiff in before he showers after a workout. As long as you return the offer…

Ghost is one of those people who doesn’t shower sometimes just due to apathy, sometimes self-loathing, so he has a complicated relationship with your love of his stink. Honestly, you leaning into his side and just burying your nose in his skin like an addict is like his alarm of “I’ve taken this too far, I should probably shower”. World’s weirdest grounding technique.

Price is using that against you. You’ve given him a bargaining chip. So yeah, he’ll hold off on a shower, but you have to do something he likes in exchange…. Maybe you’ve gotta let him eat your ass (which you’re not usually a fan of) or let him have you collared in public (embarrassing).

König thinks it’s cute that you like his man smell. Honestly, any kind of fetish you have for something of his is cute to him. He just loves that there are things about him that you’re obsessed with, no matter how weird they are. God knows he’s obsessed with so many parts of you in a fetishistic way. Man is totally excited to come home unshowered, because he likes you clingy.

Nikolai views it as another avenue of devotion, of dependency. And like everything, he uses it to dominate you. It’s something that can be given in reward or withheld in punishment. He’ll call for you after he’s done a lot of work in the hanger or garage, anywhere that he’s currently practicing mechanics, and have you sit on his lap on the couch, face buried in his neck or his armpit while you give him a pussyjob. Lets you lick the sweat from his balls before he puts his cock down your throat. Who said that.

[strnilolover]

NNN - matt sturniolo - period help

You and Matt were laying in his bed together, limbs tangled with one another as your eyes were focused on the movie you were watching. Here and there, matt would make some remark, causing you to rebutted against it — and occasionally your laughs mingling with one another as you joked about the movie.

“No — no, she definitely has feelings for that kid. I mean she literally acts so dumb in front of him and not around anyone else.” you argued, propping yourself up onto one arm as you spoke to matt.

He shrugged, “i don’t know — i don’t see how, i mean she acts dumb around other people too. how can you rule this out to her liking him?” he asked, his hand coming up to poke at your temple. You just rolled your eyes, “I have a feeling.” you retorted back.

He hummed, taking his eyes away from you to train back onto his tv, your own doing the same as you settled back into his side. After a while, you felt the urge to pee — having drank all that water and sodas not long ago.

So you carefully shifted, trying to shimmy your way out of matt’s grasp. But, when you shifted to slide off the bed, you felt the unmistakable feeling of warmth between your legs — and your body froze. Your eyes went wide, looking down to where your body sat on matt’s bed, seeing the stain of red under you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the embarrassment seep into you. ‘Fuck — fuck’

You shifted uncomfortably, hoping that matt wouldn’t notice how ridge your body went. But to no surprise — matt always being attentive of you — you heard his voice behind you, soft and concerned.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” he asked, his hand coming out to rest against your shoulder, rubbing small circles. You swallowed, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You nodded slowly, opening and closing your mouth a few times before looking over your shoulder at him. “I just — uh —“ you stammered, your gaze falling to your lap and the bed again. Matt furrowed his brows, moving on the bed to sit beside you. His gaze now looking down to where yours was at, and his face softened.

“Oh baby,” he whispered, his hand now resting on your lower back. “Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head to look at yours better. You looked at him, face red with embarrassment. “mhm…you — you aren’t grossed out?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You wanted the world to open and swallow you whole.

He shook his head, his body now moving to stand as he moved in front of you — holding his hand out. “It’s a natural part of you, why would i be grossed out by something you can’t control?” he said, and you head tilted back to look at him before putting your hand into his.

He helped pull you up, the gross feeling still clinging to your skin. “Do you need me to run you a shower baby?” he asked, and you nodded. “yes please.”

He hummed, letting your hand go and walking over to his dresser. He pulled out a hoodie of his and a pair of sweatpants, also grabbing a pair of your underwear you seem to have left here. He walked past you, going out the bedroom door and into his bathroom to start the shower for you — making sure it was hot enough.

When he was done, he came back into the room, you body still planted where he left you. Holding out his hand again for you to take, he tugged you toward the bathroom. “Do you need anything else while you’re in the shower? snacks, heating pack?” he asked softly, letting you step into the bathroom as he began to turn away.

“Uh…some of those rice cakes with peanut butter and a heating pack please.” you muttered, and he smiled, walking away toward the kitchen as you closed the bathroom door.

When you were finished with your shower, getting dressed into the clothes matt picked out for you and using a pad (or tampon) from the pack you kept here just in case — you wandered out of the bathroom.

You set the towels in the washing machine before pivoting and walking into matt’s room. The sheets on the bed were already changed and the things you requested were already there waiting for you. You smiled softly, walking over to the bed. You didn’t hear matt’s footsteps behind you, his arms wrapping around you.

You jumped slightly, a giggle then following. “There’s my pretty girl.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing a few light kisses there. You couldn’t help but smile more, letting your head tip back to rest on his shoulder. Matt pressed one last pec to your neck before pulling away, “I got everything you requested and-“ he paused, bringing something around in front of you. “- i figured you might want this guy.” he held mr.wrinkleton up in front of you, swaying him back and fourth.

A big grin spread across your face as your hands reached to grab the stuffed pug, wiggling out of matt’s grip to turn around. “You’re the best, did you know that?” you said, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. He chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the small of your back once more. “I mean, i’d do anything to make you comfortable — i hope you know that.” he admitted, and you nodded in understanding.

“So — want to get back into bed now?” he asked, already detaching himself and going to his bed. You gave him a look that already spoke for itself, walking over to the bed and climbing in under the covers.

Once you were situated, you turned your head to matt, holding his stuffed pug close to your chest. “I do want one more thing though.” you said, and matt’s eye brow raised slightly. “Yeah? what’s that?”

You smiled, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over his slowly. “Lots and lots of cuddles.”

© strnilolover

[clefairysoup]

What yours and Ellie’s apartment would look like and why

All the photos are from Pinterest not mine! Reblogs and comments are very appreciated. I come bearing fluff. No apocalypse and I’m not sure if someone has done this idea, I haven’t seen anything but if someone has please tell me and I will delete this

The kitchen

This is the most average broke uni student kitchen I have ever seen, and it fits you two. Ellie bought magnets that say 'eat pussy all day' and stuck them on the fridge, she told you it’s a reminder for her to come get her other meal. Anyways ellie gives of vibes that the most cooking she can do to her abilities is sticking a nasty ready meal in the microwave. More under cut

dining area

your dining area is the most boring and small place in the apartment, you both simply have no care for it. Its just a table with 2 chairs that sits in the most random spot (your fucked when people come over). Usually you eat in the living room, only ever used when you feel bad for neglecting it, cluttering things on the table of random objects that you forget about or for stealing one of the chairs for something else. ultimately useless.

Bathroom

Simple but still shows sign of use. some cute plants and odd posters and stickers ellie insists of having on the wall. Ellie definitely manages to get water all over the floor when showering, even with the curtain and your like ??? Just me thatlikes those toilet rug things but then its also gross at the same time, because thats where you shit why do you have a rug on it. Ellie has a mug that says, 'Keep calm im a lesbian' on it that holds your tooth brushes.

Bedroom

Ellie’s lazy ass would NEVER make the bed, she just rolls right outta there. Got a whole shelf and drawer to your cds and vinyls, and the many different head phones and players. Shelves of all the comics ellie loves and your things. Cringy ass pillows all over the bed. Ellie also keeps her guitar on the wall.

Living room

Once again ellie removed the ceiling lights from the living because it didn’t match the vibe. You now have over 12 lamps scattered around the room, that you find in little thrift stores. 100% have a mini fridge because you guys can’t be bothered to take 4 steps to the kitchen. 100 pillows and the throws that you try to fold up but somehow just end up pilled in a ball back to how they were. You guys own tons of board games that Ellie keeps from her childhood.

bonus

Ellie owns a freaking plakat beta fish because I said so, and she’s also an autistic nerd (someone had to say it ). She loves her fish called Hester which is an astrology term for star, that she also is nerdy af about

I hope you enjoyed me talking about my wife of 3 years, Reblogs are very appreciated

[catsgut]

how scumbag jjk characters fuck

ft. gojo, yuuji, geto, toji, and megumi. all 18+

warnings : honestly just nasty men

-gojo

ok so scumbag gojo seems like any other fuckboy, but believe me when i say he’s completely different. he knows he’s hot so he doesn’t bother trying to be nice to girls. they will sleep with him either way, so why would he fake it?

always video tapes his hookups. doesn’t matter where or with who. once he filmed himself fucking a girl in an alleyway, flipping the camera around from the pov angle of your ass bent over to his face, flashing the camera a peace sign and a silly face

cums inside without asking and moans i love you everytime without fail

missionary is his favorite, but he also isn’t picky. any position where he can show off his pretty face works for him

moans like a little bitch and says things that aren’t even really that hot, but it’s gojo…. “take this long fat cock!!” “gunna creampie your cooch!”

always makes sure to eat your pussy like he is starved! he moans into it so loudly like he’s the one getting head. honestly the best part about hooking up with him.. i can see him doing that thing where he shakes his head side to side really fast with his tongue out lmfao

tells you to leave .5 seconds after he cums. does not want to cuddle after but will tell you to text him!

doesn’t text back

anyway, you aren’t leaving unsatisfied, but you’re definitely getting that post nut clarity on your way home. was it worth the second hand embarrassment?

-yuuji

lives with his mom and seems like a sweet boy, but gojo and geto have corrupted him. kinda a ladies man… he’s so sweet like a little puppy dog. hard to say to to him.

does not care what position, but he is an ass man. asks if you wanna try anal like every time you guys see each other. when you tell him yes, and you will, he doesn’t like wearing a condom. kinda gross, but he’s cute so you let it slide

he fucks hard and fast with 0 rythme. you ask him to slow down, but ten seconds later he is back to his original pace.

another moaner like gojo. he will be whining in your ear the whole time

he has such a big mommy kink it’s crazy. will suck your tits and ask you to call him a good boy, but if he’s around his friends he’s telling them how nasty you were for him.

cums inside, but when he does pull out, it shoots the back of your head into your hair. will proceed to cuddle you after. it’s very confusing because he tells you he likes you, but once you leave don’t expect a text back unless it’s him asking for nudes.

honestly the nicest out of all of them, but in no way does he care about your feelings. his only concerns are when he’s going to get laid next.

-geto

the way geto will have you FOOLED. like he can be just as rude as gojo, but he’s nice about it?? you at first believe him to be an alright guy, until you show up to the trailer him and gojo share. it’s dirty and smells like blunt ash. he doesn’t seem to have a problem with his bare mattress being on the ground in the living room area, patting the spot next to him

plays music loudly and honestly his playlist is pretty good so you don’t mind.

loves fucking you in doggy and will stick a thumb in your ass. thinks it’s funny to “accidentally” try to stick his dick in the wrong hole

pulls out and cums wherever, but never inside. he claims it is because he’s “too much of a gentleman” yet he refuses to wear a condom.

he fucks so good though you can’t even complain. the dick is immaculate

doesn’t eat pussy, says it’s gross but will ask for a blowjob 10 minutes into hanging out with him. “i let you smoke my weed i think i deserve something in return.” he will ask you to politely please leave if you say no.

let’s you shower afterwards, but honestly after seeing the state his bathroom is in you don’t know if you want to

-toji

idk where to begin. the scummiest of scummy men. hits you up on his friends phone because he doesn’t own one himself… you know he’s a piece of shit, but this dick is so good?? it’s unreal..

he can’t hold a job down, but he knows how to beat that pussy up. he’s so sloppy and gross with it.

degrades tf out of you! pulling your hair, spitting on you, ect.. anything downright dirty he’s into it. lowkey likes feet and probably sucks toes while he’s balls deep in you

doesn’t use lube, but soooooo much spit wooo man salivates so much

EATS ASSSSSSS i just know he does. will spit on it and try shoving his tongue as deep as it’ll go

his favorite position is pushing your knees to your chest. he’s able to fuck into you deeper that way. takes rearranging your guts to a whole other level.

PULL OUT GAME STRONG AF. man does notttt!! want another kid. he doesn’t even take care of the one he has now. still no condom though

you will most likely get a uti no matter how many times you piss afterwards, sorry. thats just the chance you have to take, but its honestly so worth it.

he is the one dipping out after sex because it’s never his house he fucks you at. (he doesn’t have a place of his own)

-megumi

you know he isn’t very nice, but he also isn’t down right mean? like geto, will smoke you out in his car and expect head afterwards. doesn’t tell you to leave if you say no, but will jerk off anyways.

boob man all the way. he doesn’t care about size, but likes to make you feel insecure about them. he’ll tease you about having a chest too small/big

likes when you squat ride him. he’s lazy and doesn’t feel like putting in the work. he won’t make eye contact what so ever, eyes only focused on your tits and pussy.

if you get tired in your position on top he will sigh and just lay there till you’re ready to start bouncing again.

doesn’t dirty talk or moan really. it’s mostly grunts and heavy breathing, but when you’re sucking his dick you can sometimes squeeze a whimper or two out.

like his daddy, his pull out game is above and beyond. doesn’t even want to take a chance with getting you pregnant and honestly doesn’t mind wearing a condom. if he isn’t wearing one then he likes to cum on your face and in your eyes.

he’s kind of sadistic, but just way too lazy to do anything about it.

let’s you shower after sex, but he only has a bar of soap that has pubes stuck to it in his shower. you wonder why his skin is so clear…

doesn’t care that much if you hang out after sex, but he won’t talk to you. just sits there on his phone. he’s actually not horrible about texting back, but don’t get attached because he is absolutely talking to several other girls.

[l0sercat]

NSFW alphabet with King Baldwin IV

Please note that this is not the historical figure but the movie version. Also MDNI for my sake and yours.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's a god at aftercare. Literally will get you whatever you need or want. He puts his needs last. When you take care of him he is shy, but very thankful.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn't like his body that much due to his leprosy. He has to admit he was good looking before and during which he loved his hands, but now they're covered in sores. So maybe his eyes. He loves everything about you but more specially your hair. He loves how soft it is and he likes playing with it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming inside you. He wants to get you pregnant so bad, he wants an heir to the throne when he eventually succumbs to his illness. Even if you can't get pregnant he still loves to cum inside you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He gets hard every time he sees you naked. Even if it's not in a sexual context. Taking a bath. Boner. Get dressed boner. Hell if you give him a kiss and shower him in praise he gets hard. He can't help it just loves you so much.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He is a total virgin. No experience. I mean he's a strict Christian so obviously no sex before marriage. He is super happy that your taking his first and he gets to experience these pleasures with you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He really likes doggy. You can't see his scarred body which is a plus. He also likes how he can hit every angle in this position. He wants to make sure you feel good.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Serious 100% He views this act as sacred and something that your taken care of. Making a joke would just ruin the atmosphere.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Does leprosy affect pubic hair? I personally believe that he would try to keep it tame down there. It's not perfect but he put in the effort and that's all that matters.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He is sweet and a little clumsy but it's his first time so. Your pleasure is always number one. You'll have at least three orgasms before he has one.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does not masturbate. He views it as an unholy act. The only way he will cum is by your "hands". Even thinking about masturbating grosses him out.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise. Oh my gosh does he love when you praise him. He feeds off of your praise. He performs better if you praise him. Especially when he cums and you praise him he will go wild.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The bedroom. He'll only do it there because it's the safest. Why would he fuck you anywhere else?

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He really wants to get you pregnant, but at the same time he doesn't because he doesn't want his kid to have leprosy. So it's more so that he just really wants to be close to you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation. To him or you. If you say something degrading he will not stand for it and make you apologize immediately. And he could never degrade you because he thinks your near perfect. It would literally kill him to degrade you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He wants to give but is afraid he'll be bad at it and it probably might hurt his scarred skin. He doesn't mind receiving but is awkward the whole time. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He is slow until he is on the edge and picks up the pace a bit. His leprosy effects him a bit in this department. He can't go to fast or all his stamina will deplete.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No, he prefers to take you properly. Also quickies just wouldn't be good because y'know he's king and all. He has no time to quickly fuck you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

No he is comfortable with what y'all have now and that's all he wants.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He has bad stamina because of leprosy, so he can't last long. But he makes sure you'll have many orgasms and feel overwhelmed with pleasure. He always prioritize your pleasure over his.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Toys weren't even invented back then lmfao

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't tease, much. He'll never deny your orgasm but he'll gently poke fun at the way your face is all red and teary eyed.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He isn't very loud but he doesn't hold back his voice. You'll hear everything that comes out of his mouth.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes when your on top and gently rake your fingers through his hair and whisper praises. And maybe call him your king or majesty.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's about 5-6 1/2-inches long and kinda thick. It has a little scaring due to his leprosy but it looks normal. It is not cut but he does clean it well.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's not high but not low. He wants to do it more frequently than he does but his body can't handle it. He feels repulsed by himself but seeing you moaning his name makes him feel better.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After your both cleaned up and taken care of he falls asleep pretty quickly. Your in his arms sleeping and then he falls asleep.

[dansformations]

"Influencing influencers"

Im Byron, im kinda popular on the media, wouldnt call myself an influencer but at least an small celebrity for certain people: gay guys. Im popular between gay guys.

Then there is this guy, Tod, he do Is an influencer, another gay guy pretty popular, and we have done some colaboration videos, thanks to this i got a bit of highlights recently, getting more followers, but just some days ago Tod posted something off, at least for his usual:

Fart jokes? Superhero referentes? Both together!? Really weird if you ask me to. The situation got weirder when a lot of popular guys from the "gymbro side" of the media started comenting, celebrating his video... And he wrote back, in the weirder way posible:

"@markobroskii: Sick Bro! Superman Is next

@Tody_yourguy: Aded to the list broski!"

Didnt tought too much about It until he post a video that made my jaw drop:

He wasnt just wearing clothes that didnt match his usual but he was in the lingerie zone playing with the undies, saying he was making the zone 'More enjoyable to the View"

That sell the deal. I send his a message and went to his place to check on him.

In the way to his place i saw his @ on media changing to @Tod_thebro.

Wtf!?

When arrived, i notice diferences since he open the door, he stank!

- Jesus! Tod, thats your smell!?

- Yeah, some bro scent, go ahead bro, take a sit - he said With a voice that sounded diferent, he was talking with this "Frat Bro" acent we used to laugh about.

His apartament was now a mess, full of empty - and not so empty - pizza boxes, empty beer cans, dirty clothes, and sticky looking socks... He offer me a beer from a brand i didnt knew, but i'm not really a drinker so maybe thats why. I took it just to be polite, took some sips... Wasnt that bad.

Tried to find the cleanest place and thats where i sat.

- Sup bro, what did you wanna talk about?

- Well... About this... - I said looking around -Whats happening? First that gross fart video - I saw him chuckle when i mentioned that - then that also gross video on the lingerie store and Now... Look at your apartament, what hapened?

- I woke up bro - thats his only answer.

- Huh?

- I realice that gay life wasnt right for me

- What the fuck you- he interupt me

- Going to the gym, no worries about skin care routine - he keep talking - no worries even about showers, not washing my butt every-time-i-have-a-date - he said that words sounding indeed really sick of it- or not washing my butt at all, no using it for please other guys, just using it for this:

After saying that he lifted a leg and rip a long, smelly and loud fart

PRRRRRRFFFFFFFTTTFFFF the fart resonated for all the place, stinking everything, i had to cover my nose inmediatly, which make Tod laugh.

- Tod, theres no way to go straight, u have always been against that believe!

- Used to, but theres way, and you Will UAAARP agree soon

- What do you mean? - i said confused, and a bit of worried

- See, my awaking start when i had the first can of a beer from this weird brand a hot masc guy gave me, that same beer you are drinking now

Oh fuck.

- Oh n-OOUUUURRRRRP

- It's already starting, bro

- Theres no way, uh-PRRRRRRFFTTTFFFF

Tod was smiling with and almost evil smile, chugged a can of beer, belched and said: Cheers bro.

While here, I was burping non-stop, feeling my brain a bit foggy... Why I was worried about?

...

@ morningboy💕:

Oh!, Byron finally posted something, and it looks like a colab with Tod! Maybe he make him come back to his senses, all his 'turning straight' story really afect to the community.

Anyways lets see the video...

Ok, that outfit was a choice, Byron - I tough

Keep watching.

Oh... Oh no, is Byron having a fart contest with Todd!?

This feels wrong... Wait! Why his user just changed to @Byb-ronski...

[junicult]

!! what it’d be like sleeping w the bachelors

contains ; nsfw! suggestive content. fem!farmer. desc of sex. oral (m & f!receiving). fingering. creampie(s). one brief mention of spitting. brief mentions of a breeding kink. praise. lots of kissing. not proofread!

harvey.

- fuck.

- i said this once, and i’ll say it again:

- he is a doctor. he knows. what. he’s. DOING!!!!!

- the most passionate. he’s extremely focused on how you’re feeling, if you’re happy, or comfortable.

- he’s obsessed with going down on you. it’s honestly his favorite part.

- sometimes you don’t even have sex, he just goes down on you and calls it a night.

- what? you feel dirty, and gross from working on the farm all day? that’s fine, he’ll respect your wishes. but in no way would that be an issue for him.

- if anything, it makes him happier because all that tells him is you’re working hard and healthy.

- and he just wants you to be healthy.

- which is why he likes to have sex every night! it’s good for your mind, body, and soul. doctors orders!

- it’s like a part of your nightly routine. an unspoken rule you’re never opposed to unless it’s really late or you’re exhausted.

- shower sex!! i said it.

- your skin all soapy and clean, wet hair clinging to your cheeks while he fucks u against the wall. lol.

- i feel like he doesn’t really curse. it’s not that he’s against it, he just doesn’t have those words in his daily vocabulary.

- but during sex…that’s a whole new thing.

- “fuck…fuck y’feel so good.” “oh my—shit, sweetheart. just like that.”

- he’s whimpering in your ear, breath heavy on your skin.

- he bites his lower lip to keep from being too loud.

- he insists on wearing a condom. practicing safe sex is extremely important to him!

- even if you’re on birth control. and especially if you’re not ready for children yet.

- but if you are…

- phew. that’s a different story for another day.

- he’s a missionary guy. or cowgirl, but mostly missionary.

- he just likes seeing you moaning underneath him, how easily he can kiss you, and look at you.

- his aftercare is the sweetest. loves giving you massages or rubs your feet after a long day.

- makes u pee after lol.

- kisses you endlessly. his lips have touched every inch of your body.

- definitely likes to cuddle somehow. doesn’t matter, as long as he’s nearly engulfing you.

sam.

- THIS. MAN.

- he’s so cute, are u kidding?

- first and foremost: he fucking loves kissing you. constantly.

- no matter what you’re doing, how your day started, what your mood is like, whatever: he’s coming up to kiss you on the lips.

- so sex w him will always begin in a heavy makeout session.

- not only is it fun, but he’s incredibly good at it.

- hand cupping your cheek, other around your waist. his lips move so softly and sensually, making you feel like glass under his fingertips.

- loves having you on his lap, feeling you up while distracting you.

- loves the feeling of you running your fingers through his hair, your nails digging into his scalp.

- he’s a sweetheart. all about your pleasure, and what you feeling like doing.

- “are you tired? want me to run a bath, baby?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

- ngl, he kinda loves when you’re a little exhausted. he loves being able to pamper you.

- like, you immediately walk through the door sighing and throwing yourself onto the couch. he’s already giving you a kiss, and putting on his sweetest eyes to ask if you’re alright.

- he’s also a missionary fan. it’s sweet, it’s romantic. he likes looking at you during it.

- bbiiiiigggg fan of talking—although he isn’t really aware of it.

- “just like—oh my god, you’re gonna kill me.” “ngh, fuck baby…feels s’good.” “i’m gonna cum, cum with me please, pretty please?”

- he’s just talking, honestly. literally not a single cell in his brain is registering the pure porn spilling from his lips but you adore all of it.

- thank god (yoba) u live on a farm, cus he is one loud mf.

- actually whimpers when he comes. like he’s shaking, eyebrows pinching, MOANING.

- i forgot to mention but this mf LOVES hickeys. give him tons of hickeys and he’s all yours.

shane.

- a slut🤷‍♀️

- he’s had experience. like plenty of it, and despite those years of his life being behind him, he still knows what he’s doing.

- cups ur jaw while kissing you.

- may or may not spit in ur mouth once or twice. idk.

- doggystyle!!!!!!!!!!! lol

- something about the way your ass looks with your hair balled into his fist makes him literally such a mf slut.

- tugging you back so he can groan in your ear.

- “feels so fucking good. gonna cum f’me? yeah? g’na do that?”

- literally has you panting, with tears welling in your eyes.

- probably changes positions like five times per round. he just can’t decide which one you look better in.

- big fan of counter sex, or couch sex.

- looovvesss cowgirl.

- hands around your waist or your thighs, using minimal strength to help you bounce on his cock.

- he can’t stop watching the soft bounce of your tits, and the way your head hangs while you’re moaning.

- will absolutely bully into you if he thinks you’re going too slow, or if you get tired.

- cums inside of u (shocking).

- or on your back, depending on which position or if you want him to.

- tips his head back, his eyebrows pinching and he lets out a low groan while he finishes.

- takes him a solid like 3 mins to catch his breath.

- his aftercare consists of feeling you up, kissing you softly. he’ll almost always offer you a glass of water, but will absolutely pass out afterwards.

- he has enough stamina to give you multiple rounds, but once he’s finished he’s knocked out LMFAOO

sebastian.

- not super experienced.

- he’s not a virgin, but with how little he’s had sex, he’s still new to a lot of things.

- he’s a big fan of being guided. like, tell him what you want, what you like, and he’s on it🫡

- LOVES eating you out, especially when he’s doing it right and he gets to see your reactions.

- but he also loves when you go down on him.

- he becomes this little shell of himself, his face beat red and his hands trying to cover his flushed face. he’s gnawing on his lower lip, trying his best not to moan and whine but ofc it’s not working.

- once he’s too distracted to care what he looks like, his hands are immediately grabbing onto the sheets and pillows, literally anything nearby.

- the first time you ever gave him head…he came in 10 seconds.

- was so fucking embarrassed. literally still cringes when he thinks abt it.

- despite you reassuring him that it didn’t bother you at all, and you’re actually really flattered by it.

- but yeah, anyways,

- when it comes to fucking, he likes when you’re on top.

- so any form of cowgirl, he’s your guy.

- he’s not so much vocal as he is with just panting.

- like, he’s not going to talk to you, save for the occasional, “you feel so good,” but he’s absolutely not dead silent.

- mf is a whimperer. he gets so easily flustered, of course he’s hiding his face from your devious grin.

- he likes fingering you.

- he’s got long, thin, pale fingers that he doesn’t rly know what to do with, so when you help him out he’s all kinds of excited.

- will never forget when he made you cum on his fingers for the first time. literally gives him such an ego boost, especially when you praise him.

- now he makes fingering a never-forget step while having sex with you.

- aftercare is usually just cuddling after he forces u to pee cus u know ya’ll are strictly using the pull out method lmfao.

alex.

- he’s the kind of bf that smacks ur ass when ur walking past him.

- probably pretends to hit on you when he runs into u in public.

- like, “whoa, you’re cute. we should hangout sometime,” while ur literally getting groceries for the two of u to eat.

- i digress.

- he’s so mf affectionate. his hands are never leaving your waist if he’s anywhere near you.

- especially when you come in after finishing up work, and you feel all gross but he’s swooning from the sight of u.

- “hi, baby. how was work?”

- running his hands up your shirt and pressing kisses all along the side of your neck.

- aka (he’s horny).

- he’s gentle with you, especially if you’re tired and had a bad day. he’s just pressing his soft lips on your skin while you recap what made you so upset, nodding and humming along.

- “anything i can do to make you feel better?” and he doesn’t ask with ulterior motives, he does want you to feel better, but he’ll never say no if you want to have sex.

- if you’re exhausted, or tired but you still wanna do something—well he’s fingering u.

- will probably eat u out, but he’s making u cum on his fingers mostly.

- coaxes you through it.

- “mm, yeah i know, baby. just let it out.”

- haha.

- wall sex enthusiast.

- or even the mating press.

- just so he can show off his strength, his arms hooked underneath your legs while he fucks you sobbing.

- STAMINA!!!!!!!!!!

- this man can go for rounds after rounds after ROUNDSSS on end.

- you’re panting, catching your breath once he starts kissing you slowly again, and you’re back to whining.

- “c’mon sweetheart. i know you can do it. you can give me one more, right? just one?”

- such a little bastard i fear.

- his aftercare is just extensive amounts of praise, and kissing, and holding you. he’s asking if you need anything.

- falls asleep while keeping you caged against him.

elliot.

- vocal vocal vocal vocal vocal.

- sex with him is nothing but romantic.

- i’m talking holding hands, cupping your cheek, kissing your lips so passionately while he’s so extremely gentle.

- he’ll never be rough with you, i’m sorry. he’s just not that kind of guy.

- master at praise.

- “so beautiful, so fucking gorgeous i love you so much.” “feels so good my love, ‘m so close,”

- imagine him putting his hair into like a little bun and loose strands are just falling out, framing his face while he makes love to u.

- cus y’all know he’s not fucking u😭

- once again, we have a pussy eating connoisseur.

- tug on his hair while he’s going down on u. do it.

- his arms wrapped around your hips holding your legs still, face delved between your thighs for however long you need him to be / how long he wants to be.

- i’m here to tell you that if elliot’s had a bad day, he’s eating you out to make him feel better.

- doesn’t care what you were doing, if you haven’t showered yet, he literally doesn’t care.

- …missionary enthusiast too.

- i’m sorry but they all are 😓

- he’ll literally never degrade you. even if you want him to, i promise you he’ll try, but he just can’t.

- a firm believer that you should come at least two or three times before he does.

- loves to see you blissed out underneath him before he even thinks about cumming.

- his aftercare is so perfect. he’s getting you water, rubbing your sore muscles, running a bath if you need it.

- without a doubt cuddling. ofc.

[icallhimjoey]

I feel like Joe's the type of guy during a heatwave to complain about the heat but still insist on cuddles. And I just imagine both parties being grumpy from the heat but also from not being able to just cuddle.

lil short one! sticky sweaty cuddles with a lil side of grump! Wordcount: 1.5K

---

That Better?

"Where do you think you're going?" you can barely make out the words Joe's mouth tries to shape. He's pressed up against your chest, his whole cheek stuck to your skin in a way that makes his lips go funny.

It's uncomfortable. Way too hot and sticky. Outside you can see another flash, and hear the sky rumble in the distance. No rain yet, though. Just humidity.

"Joe," you warn when he tightens his grip on you as you try to move away a little. "Please, it's too hot." You use both hands to find his shoulders to create some space in between the two of you.

It's difficult, because you're fatigued with the heat, and Joe is stronger than you.

"The fan's on." Joe argues, though it's dry and flat, no energy to put any heat behind his words. It's already hot enough.

He holds on, quite tightly at that, and you huff a breath into his face as you relax again. You're too weak. The room already feels stifling and heavy without a person stuck to you, but Joe's lying right on top, and you desperately need the fan to hit the areas of your body that he's covering with all of his right now.

But Joe doesn't want to move.

He's grumpy for it too, but he needs the cuddles to get to sleep, no matter how warm and sweaty and gross it feels.

Which, it does.

Everything feels damp.

It's silent for a while, until you can feel a drop of sweat make its way down your scalp, sliding through your hair slowly and then picking up speed when it gets to your neck.

It's disgusting.

"I'm not even moving and I can feel myself sweat." you complain, but Joe just hums. Adds, "Yea, it's sweltering." in agreement. He can feel you sweat too, but knows that it just means that the fan feels nicer for it. He doesn't add that bit of information - fan feels like a sensitive subject now. You had just had a big fight over whether or not to sleep with the floor fan on.

It wasn't exactly a silent one - the fan or the fight.

Joe desperately wishes for the fan to be moved out of the bedroom; it's a big floor fan that sounds like an airplane taking off, he'd always say. But you need it on. You'll take the loud constant whir that will bring you an actual breeze over suffering in a dead silent humid room that feels more like a sauna than anything else.

"Baby, you know I can't sleep with it on. It's too loud."

"Can't sleep with a fan on, but can fall asleep in the middle of The Expendables." you'd sarcastically said, making a face at him. The Expendables was basically a whole film of big loud explosions. He'd insisted on watching it the other day, and then fell asleep about 15 minutes into it.

"You know that's not-" Joe sighed with frustration. "That's hardly the same."

You could feel the sweat sit between your toes, it was that hot.

"Joe, without the fan on, I don't even want to touch my own body! Let alone yours!"

You fought, back and forth until you'd cut it off by going for a cold shower. When you got out, you found Joe in bed with all the lights off and the fan on, and you silently accepted Joe's kind compromise.

When you'd laid down on the bed, Joe had immediately rolled half onto you, and you knew that in return for the fan being on, he wanted to at least be able to fall asleep the way he wanted to. Needed to.

Touching.

All snuggled up.

Breathing your breath, limbs crossing limbs, bare skin pressing into bare skin. Feeling heartbeats and hearing heartbeats, until one of you can't feel their arm anymore from lying on a shoulder weird. Joe needs the comfort of a whole person to make a psychical connection with to feel instantly at ease.

It not his fault that you calm him down so much. That he loves you.

And you love Joe too.

But it's definitely too fucking hot for any of it. You feel too grumpy, and you know Joe isn't in the best mood either.

Joe might feel at ease, but you don't feel at ease at all.

You're still holding out hope that the clouds that had threatened rain all day will actually give way. The heat needs to break already. So far, no luck though. Just some flashes and some rumbling thunder up high in the sky.

You're not a fan.

You don't like thunder storms. There's something so very threatening about them. Every loud crash makes you jump a little, surprising you every single time.

Joe knows.

He remembers the first time he'd been around you during bad weather, and he had watched you from up close for a little while until something inside of him took over.

I, big giant man. You, small little defenseless woman. Must protect.

Cave man behaviour.

Cute when you're after a little babying, but absolutely awful when the heat and the humidity had you in an awful mood. Like right now.

Another flash lights up your bedroom for a split second, and you can hear how the storm's getting a little closer.

"I'm not scared, you know," you comment softly, and Joe just hums again. Acknowledges what you're telling him, but keeps you close for his own comfort. Doesn't seem to care if you're scared or not - just pretends that you are, because he likes that a little better.

He ducks into his shoulders a little more, curls up to you a little more, and you can feel how the side of his face slides against your chest.

Slides.

You try to hold back an audible wince at how much you hate that, and you endure Joe's weight for a little while longer. But then, slowly, the itch under your skin becomes too much and it builds until you feel like you're about to burst.

"I can't," you suddenly sputter, pushing at Joe's shoulders again. "Sorry babe, but I cannot." you say definitively, groaning as you move to sit up. This time, Joe lets you go.

When you see Joe's sad little face, half of you wants to reach out to wrap your whole self around him. But the other half wants you to go sit in the freezer.

Unfortunately for Joe, the latter wins.

"M'sorry, just..." you turn in the bed and find a piece of cold mattress to lie down on, your head near the foot of the bed now, your feet near your pillow. You get the best bit of air from the fan from there too, right in your face, and it feels a little better.

It really does help that you're damp all over.

Makes the air actually cool you down.

You suppose that's what sweat's meant to do in the first place, so it makes sense.

Joe watches you from his spot.

Watches as you starfish on top of the bed in the dark, hair blowing in the breeze, and Joe wants to frown, because this isn't what he wants. But then he sees how the creases on your face slowly disappear, and just witnessing you be a little more comfortable makes his own frown smooth out a bit too.

"That better?" Joe asks, and you're not sure if it's a sarcastic question or not. If saying yes will hurt his feelings or not. You detect a little hidden bite in there though, so you don't answer.

Instead, you sigh a little contently and say, "Come over here."

Joe doesn't need telling twice.

In an instant, his legs have swung around on the bed and he finds a nice much cooler spot next to you.

"Here," you say, and you hold out your hand.

Joe gives it a glance before looking at your face. He knows you've only just showered, but your hair's mostly dry already. He notices it now as it drapes over the edge of the bed, swaying in the wind. You may be sweaty, grumpy, sticky, and uncomfortable, but you're still gorgeous. It's almost annoying how he likes the way the heat makes you look.

"Hold my hand." you say when it takes too long for Joe to grab hold of it.

It's your compromise.

Joe smiles.

Takes it.

It's not as nice, but Joe will take it, fingers intertwining as your palms glue together.

"That better?" he asks again, and this time there's no doubt about his intentions, voice much sweeter and softer, no hidden bite left in there at all.

"Hmm." It's your turn to hum now, agreeing as you add, "Better."

Joe gets to touch you.

You get the fan on.

It's not the best of both worlds - it's still fucking boiling - but it's definitely better than before.

And then, just when you think, maybe you actually could fall asleep like this, you can hear the soft patter of a few raindrops hitting the bedroom window.

Just a few at first, but it quickly picks up into a gentle, rhythmic pattern as the sound grows.

You squeeze Joe's hand, and there's still a slight slick to your palms and fingers, kind of clammy, definitely warm.

But it's kind of nice to be stuck together like this.

Joe squeezes back, and you let a happy sigh escape you.

You can actually fall asleep like this.

"Much better."

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[gladiatorcunt]

Literally begging you to please write more Patrick Zweig x Reader fics 🥵🥵

cw: 18+ MDNI, afab reader, hints of patrick x art / patrick x reader x art, consensual and accidental somno, gross patrick, hint of breeding kink, college era ish, mention of ass play, unedited

Tired Loser Bf!Patrick who hikes one of your thighs over his, pressing up against you and sinking back into your already wet pussy. It’s so early in the morning, but sometimes he gets in a mood where he just needs to go lose himself in your cunt even if you’re not contributing. You hum and snuggle further into the silk pillowcase, relishing in the too tight grip of your plush love handles and the sloppy sounds his balls make against your ass. You hardly spend any time together due to his career rhat’s been on a bit of a decline, so you’re more than happy to be his toy if that’s what makes him feel like he’s worth anything. Like he can only find meaning in the warm walls of your pussy, and ass, on occasion.

It’s either this or quick fucks on the counter or kitchen table, both of you nearly clawing at each other in desperation to all but consume the other. Sometimes it’s softer, slow thrusts angled to perfectly hit the right spot every time as he trails open mouthed kisses along your collarbone. Patrick offers to take a shower after coming home sweaty and disgusting but you always say that you prefer him like that anyway. He whines pathetically for a kiss for you and for him from a best friend you’ve never met into your neck and pounds you harder. Your eyes flutter half open at the impact, the grunts behind you and the thick weight moving in and out of you being the only things you can comprehend.

“Glided right in, didn’t even have to finger you or anything.” He moans too loudly for sleepy sex at 5 in the monring. “Always so ready for me, just how i like you.”

“Uh! Uh huh-“

You sigh and nod into the pillow, lazily throwing your ass back on his cock as he fucks you. His pace is so fast that you’re worried he might throw his back out, it’s so frantic and desperate, like he’s trying to stab your guts and leave a permanent mark on you from the inside. You zone in on his heavy breathing, he grinds his length deeper inside and lifts one of your ass cheeks just to watch it fall and jiggle back into place. It’s almost like he’s on the court, eyes watching the ball like a hawk and giving you the most toe curling punched out sounds when he hits it. His precision and raw enthusiasm has you gasping.

The sun’s not far off from rising, so you give up on getting anymore meaningful rest and drown in the intense smell around you. Sweat, slick, old almost acidic cum from when he bred you in his sleep, take out containers from last night that haven’t been thrown away, sharp and piercing autumn air, Patrick’s horrific axe body spray, your much more pleasant cherry blossom body wash. His thrusts send you rocking up the bed, tits swaying back and forth in the mess of tangled thin sheets. Your still half concious but he fucks you like he’s been awake for hours, eyes wide and crazed and brow furrowed like he needs so much more of you than he thought. He moans two names after quick sucks to both of your nipples, one for each. Yours and that same best friend’s.

The red cap Patrick has stashed away in the nighstand collects dust like a skeleton in a closet. There are sessions where he won’t, or maybe can’t, cum unless you cry and whine for that best friend too. You don’t even know who you’re begging for another cock to steal your voice and ravage your throat, but you do it and take note of the euphoric shout that rattles all the way out of Patrick’s chest, the all too pleased sigh into the valley of your breasts. You don’t ask in the shower or in bed, the buried sadness he carries like a chain gives the impression that the abscence is not his choice. Might be a nice birthday present, a reunion.

You wake up more as he goes insane with his fucking, his arm restrains your thigh and pulls it up so high you can feel the muscle stretching. He doesn’t communicate beyond feral grunts and something primal between a growl and a whimper, making sure you can really feel his thick cock bullying your poor pussy beyond repair. You never mind, in fact some days it’s you who wakes Patrick up by bouncing on him like a cock starved slut. You like when you can’t forget what he’s done to you, when you can raise your head to admire the new necklace of bruises. It’s not like he’s never gentle with you, but you don’t feel ashamed for loving him how he is. The jagged edges and aching need to belong somewhere, to someone.

Sometimes all a relationship needs to work is for the people involved to be the same, deep down or surface level. You take whiffs of his pubes that are too deep to be normal apprection for your partner’s body and he eats his own tangy cum out of your puffy pussy like it’s God’s gift to humanity, spitting the left over jizz and additional saliva into your ass hole and slurping that up too. But in the here and now, he’s fucking you without a goal or an end in sight, heavy balls wetly kissing your lower body with no assurance of being emptied. It could be hours before Patrick lets either of you cum, like it’s one of his games that more closely resembles a heated battle to something that looks and acts like death. Evenly matched, no one being stronger than the other.

So you give him the point and drift off, messily tongue kissing him back and lulling yourself to the chaotic rhythm of his thrusts. Outside, it starts to softly rain, the ambience of the moment softening both of your hearts. You put effort in a real kiss, only for a second, whisper an ‘I love you’ and wait for a resounding ‘I love you too’ before shutting off your brain for the time being.

[cloudzoro]

zoro + watersports PLEASE ILL DO ANYTHING

YES! ZORO IS GROSS HES PERFECT FOR THIS ♡

cw: fem!reader, smut (minors dni), gentle zoro, piss kink (don't like, don't read)

Watersports | Zoro x Reader

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Zoro feels bad. He shouldn't be this turned on by the way you squirm and whimper when you're desperate to go the bathroom. He thinks the little noises you make are cute.

Someone has been occupying the ship's bathroom for an hour, and you're dying for a piss. Zoro watches you pace for a while, trousers getting tighter and tighter with every whine that passes through your lips.

“Just go right here. I won't judge you,” he says. You turn around, looking the most offended he's ever seen you. He groans, leaning forward and grabbing your hand. He pulls you forward with so much force that you end up straddling him.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, and he responds by pulling you into a kiss. He holds your hips, guiding you to grind on him. He hums contently as he feels you kiss back. “zoro”, you mumble against his lips, prompting him to answer your question.

“I'm distracting you, even though I think you just let go now. Chopper said it's not healthy to hold it in,” He grumbles, upset that you've stopped him from getting what he wants.

“I can't just go here. On our bed?”

“Why not? We can clean it up, baby,” he says. He's pressing delicate kisses over your neck; he knows a gentle approach is the best way to go about proposing what he wants. “Besides, most of it will get on me anyway.”

“You want me to piss on you?!” you ask, shock running through your system.

“That's exactly what I want now, c'mere, and sit this pretty pussy on my cock”, he says, pulling his cock free from his trousers. The offer is tempting, and you're desperate for release.

You reach between your legs to move your panties to the side before sinking down on your boyfriend's thick cock. The stretch has you launching forward to wrap your arms around him for support.

“I got you, baby, it's ok” Zoro's words are sweet, and it throws you slightly how gentle he's being. Zoro is trying his best to ease you into this newfound kink of his. You try to push your desperation aside to focus on the way his cock stretches you. Nothing has ever filled you up the way that his cock has. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you start to bounce on him.

The tension in your stomach becomes a quick worry for you, you can't tell if you're going to piss or cum, but something tells you that the man beneath you doesn't care at all.

“Let go for me, pretty girl. It's OK, it's just me here,” he says, grabbing your hips to hold you still as he fucks up into you. Your legs shake as you cum. Your orgasm washes over you alongside another, separate feeling of relief. You don't realise that you're pissing yourself on your boyfriend's cock until it's too late, and when you look down at Zoro, he's wholly entranced, staring down at where his cock is still filling you up. He watches with keen interest as you gush fluid over him.

He plays the sweet moan of relief you let out over and over in his mind as he fucks up into you, chasing his own orgasm. He finally cums, burying himself deep inside you. When you've both stopped moving, you thank him for helping you relieve yourself. He accepts your thanks with a filthy kiss and promises that he's always going to take care of his girl.

“You go start the shower. I'll clean up in here,”, he says, kissing your forehead and lifting you off his lap. You can hear his content humming as he strips the sheets from your bed. He must've enjoyed seeing you let go for him.

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thank you for reading ♡

tag list is open!