#but sometimes i gotta branch out

[nymphiearon]

special thanks to everyone making mood specific playlists

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello! 🫣

I had this idea: thenamesh academic rivals?

Gil is a top student, mostly getting a mark of 100. but whenever Thena asks her rival what he got he always says a lower point (for example he says 97 and she got a 98) , hiding his exam behind his back 🫣

Thena glared at the chair next to hers as it was taken.

"Uh," Gilgamesh attempted - yet again - to strike up a casual conversation, "hey."

Thena tapped her papers on her desk, waiting for the professor to come in, as well as tell them how they would be conducting the labs with their students for the day. "I trust you've already looked up what your score for the mid-term was."

"What was yours?"

Thena clenched her teeth in her jaw. It didn't matter what she got, he would get just the same, if not better. She had worked her whole life to become a historical scholar, as was expected of her. And this guy always managed to stand shoulder to shoulder with her, seemingly without so much as blinking. "I achieved 98. I believe the two point demerit was due to my oversight in the essay section."

Gilgamesh merely nodded, offering a nervous kind of smile. "Ah, well, the essay parts are always the toughest."

She slid her eyes over to him. She didn't truly wish to know, but she also couldn't resist knowing. "And you?"

"Ninety..." he trailed off, as he always did when they were discussing their academic performance. She glared at him to finish, "seven?"

Thena smiled, although she did her best not to appear smug and unbecoming. "An admirable mark."

"Thanks," he laughed off, like it was nothing. Professor Stoss was a famously tough professor despite his young age, and getting any good mark from him was already a feat.

Thena did somewhat believe that the affability Gilgamesh possessed made people go easier on him. And even then, she had to concede that he was intelligent and competent in their field of study. It infuriated her.

She had the weight of the world on her in the expectation to perform. She was even a teaching assistant entirely to advance her studies and career. Otherwise, the interaction with other students was far too much for her own preference.

But Gilgamesh said he was good in historical studies merely because his mother had possessed a fondness for them. Thena devoted hours to studying and research and Gilgamesh worked part time at a diner close to the university. And yet he used to consistently beat her in every assignment and quiz and test.

Only in recent months did he seem to be coming just a single point under her, and even that was not enough. Thena had already heard from her own family how outstanding this no-name student was and how those in their field of work were asking about him.

"Did you...do anything this weekend?"

Thena looked over, somewhat astonished that he was still trying to make conversation with her.

He shrugged, tapping his fingers anxiously on the cover of his textbook. "I heard there was a fancy party for the TAs, I mean. I assumed you went."

Thena frowned. There was indeed an event for the faculty and their chosen assistants--those who showed promise enough to earn extra credits in teaching. She hadn't attended because she felt no need (nor did Phastos, in her defense). "I assumed you had gone."

"Oh, no," Gilgamesh smiled down at the desk. "I take the late shifts on weekends. They're long, but we don't get many people, so I can get studying or work done, y'know?"

Thena swallowed her words. She had all this envy for his natural skill, but his work was just as legitimate as hers. And he worked to pay his rent, living off campus, while she lived in a dorm for female academic leaders. Gilgamesh stole his time studying as opposed to building his entire life around it.

"You deserve to enjoy yourself a little."

She looked at him again, still frowning. "I beg your pardon?"

"S-Sorry." He went back to staring down at the tattered edges of his textbook. But she kept looking at him, waiting for him to elaborate. The silence worked, dragging his words out of him. "I just mean...you work really hard, right? You're always top of the class. You should be allowed to have some fun, sometimes."

She did work hard. She devoted every waking moment of her life to her studies, and the one person who continuously thwarted her attempts at perfection was the one to point it out?

It would be easier to be angry with him if he were dislikeable in any way. As it stood now, all she had to go on was that he always beat her in academic achievement, and so effortlessly at that. But even with that, she had to concede that he worked just as hard, if not harder than her for it! And it was infuriating!

"Sorry," he repeated, looking away from her glowering at him.

She sighed. "No, I'm sorry. It was an innocent question."

He looked at her, completely astonished. She would like to snap at him for thinking she couldn't even just apologise for being overly adversarial with him. But that would defeat the point. "Well, I know you don't really like small talk."

It was that she wasn't good at it. She angled herself in her chair, destroying her perfect posture to face him somewhat more properly. "Should you not have also...enjoyed yourself? When do you have time to socialise if you are either studying or working?"

"Well, I have friends I can see in my other classes," he shrugged.

Oh. Yes, of course. Thena felt her hackles raise again at the idea that she was so unfamiliar with the idea of having friends in any of their classes. But she was trying to be nicer to him.

"But," he offered another sheepish smile, bending closer to whisper like children trading a secret in grade school. "This class is my favourite."

Thena just stared at him. She supposed that made sense. He always said he had the same like of history and classics that his mother had. But the idea that she was included in the categorisation of his favourite anything; a warm feeling spread in her chest.

"The lovebirds are here already."

Students began filtering into the small lecture hall, facing them seated at the front of the room. The one who made the comment plunked down close to the door. Another one looked in their direction, "don't you two ever sleep in?"

They got jokes and insinuations that they were together all the time. Apparently, everyone could see some kind of brewing, invisible tension between the two of them. Thena always found it ridiculous.

"We don't-!"

The student startled, as did the rest of the room slowly taking their seats. The declaration was sharp, and loud--far louder than was needed for a room this size.

Thena felt warmth rush to her cheeks, first for the outburst, then the realisation that it seemed overeager to deny something that wasn't even said. She cleared her throat, turning towards the board (since she had shot to her feet in her denial). "Sit down and start copying."

The student body present groaned but obeyed. Gil was the far preferred teaching assistant because he didn't scare anyone, and even if they under-performed, he had kind encouragements as opposed to scathing condemnations.

"Guys, come on, you heard her."

Thena barely glanced over her shoulder. There was nothing new about their students complaining about her teaching methods. But Gil usually didn't take quite so stern a tone with them. Even in her defense.

He peeked at her with a smile, perhaps hoping to show that he was indeed her ally and not her enemy.

Thena whipped her head forward again. So long as they were pitted against each other in any setting, he was no friend of hers. No matter how winsome his smile was.

[popppyfur]

hair fracture might be my favorite episode ever now to no ones surprise LOL. im OBSESSED.

[unsuspectingfish]

This is like a list of the only vegetables I’ll eat.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

i can't believe i only have two askewniverse movies left (jay & silent bob reboot and clerks iii), if i watch one in november and one in december i will have completed an entire film catalogue epic in a year

[ddejavvu]

would you be up to do bff remus with no boundaries?? i think that would be an interesting dynamic

maybe like after a full moon and she just like fully gives him a shower, or something where he’s just completely naked and the boys are so confused at what’s happening

"Arm up, Rem," You hum, but your fingers pry at his pale, scarred skin before he can even begin moving a muscle.

You lift his bicep away from his side, bringing the lathered loofa in your hand to swipe through the curve of his armpit. Suds slide down his sides and you hear him hiss as they mingle with his still-healing cuts and scrapes, but there's nothing to be done except cleaning them before they can be dressed.

"Easy, easy," You rub a hand over his back in a soothing circle that carefully avoids his injuries, "Just gotta get 'em clean, then we can dress them. You can sleep on your stomach, that'll help the ones on your back. How'd you even get scratches on your back?"

"It's all the ladies I occupy my time with," Remus drawls, but his pain is evident in the weakness of his voice, "Women love werewolves."

When you don't answer, leaving an purposefully awkward silence behind that swirls with the steam from the shower, Remus sighs, "Got all scratched up from the tree branches out there."

You drag the loofa from his side to his back, carefully ghosting over the caked dirt around his wounds. His knuckles turn white as he clenches his fists, but when he tries drawing one into his mouth to bite at it you take it in your own free hand.

"No biting. That's reserved for your better half."

"Are you talking about Sirius, or the wolf? Sirius bites me," Remus grumbles, and- speak of the devil, there's feet pounding obnoxiously up the stairs and towards the dorms.

"Moony, we've got all the chocolate we could carry," Sirius informs him, and there's the sound of wrapped goods being piled on Remus's comforter before James and Sirius step into the doorway of the bathroom.

James lets out an 'ooh' and turns away with a grimace when he sees you kneeled beside Remus's naked form beneath the spray of water, but Sirius stands stock-still, frozen by some mix of intrigue and horror.

"Uh, are we interrupting something?"

"Just a bath," You smile kindly at them, scrubbing gently at Remus's neck, "He has trouble getting his back sometimes."

"Sometimes- have you two done this before?"

"After every moon." You nod helpfully when Remus merely ducks his head to rest between his knees, "You two are usually either asleep or trying to get grass out of your pelts."

There's something green in Sirius's hair that proves the two were unsuccessful this time around.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Moony, I didn't know you had a caregiver," Sirius snickers, "Does she help you put your panties on too?"

"Don't let him get to you, dove," Remus murmurs, his eyes slipping shut as the warm water seeps into his skin and heals an ancient ache in his bones, "He's just mad he'll never get to take yours off. They're a real pretty pattern, y'know," Remus glances up at Sirius with the ghost of a smirk on his face, muffled by pain but persistent all the same, "Shame she's not interested in showing 'em to you."

"You've seen her panties, mate?" James cuts in, peering over Sirius's shoulder, "What are you two?"

"Friends," You shrug, "But it's stuffy in here at night, and my sleeping pants get too warm."

"You're telling me all the times you two have slept over in here all snuggled up in his bed, that you've not had any pants on?"

"Well I don't make it a habit to strip in his bed," You scoff, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn grass stain on the pale plane of his hip, "But I can promise you that my pants are never gonna be on your floor, either one of you."

"Oh please, we wouldn't dream of stealing Moony's girl," Sirius claps James on the shoulder, "But whaddya think about that, mate? Strippin' down to cuddle in bed together? They seem to think it's a friendly endeavor."

"I typically only ditch my pants for Lily, Padfoot," James informs Sirius with a sympathetic smile, "But I'll ask her if I can bring my dog to her dorm tomorrow night. You can sleep at our feet."

Sirius begins valiantly arguing for a spot higher up on the bed, every dog's hardest battle to fight, but you're no longer interested in their antics or the noise they're producing. You reach out your foot to kick at the door, and it swings shut with a satisfying click.

"Thanks, love." Remus groans, his face squished between his knees, "They were givin' me a headache."

"They always give you a headache," You dig your thumbs into a tense spot on his back and he twitches beneath you with a hum of appreciation, "We should get a flat together without them. They can be the feral deer and dog that live outside our cottage."

"We'll have to call animal control" Remus grins wryly against the rounded bend of his knee as you lean forwards to wash beneath his thighs, "How strong are their strongest tranquilizer darts?"

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ANIMAL INSTINCT

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY:

after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.

part two of bloodthirsty

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).

Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night. 

"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips. 

"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Just busy."

"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."

"I don't--"

"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"

"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.

His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."

"Okay..."

"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."

You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."

"I thought pro quo was one word."

"Why would you think that?"

"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"

"Help you...how, exactly?"

You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.

Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.

"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"

"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please. 

You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.

You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.

"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."

"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."

He laughs. "We'll see about that."

You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.

The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.

Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"Found you," he growls. 

Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target. 

Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.

You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.

"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him. 

But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?

Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.

Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.

“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”

“Smell what?” 

“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”

Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.

His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.

“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.

Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but

spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.

He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.

Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste. 

Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.

“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”

You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.

Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.

Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night. 

One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.

He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.

Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.

“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”

You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.

“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.

“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”

“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up. 

“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”

“How are you going to get into my room?”

He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Thank you for reading!

LINKS

all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine

[heckaroniandcheese]

not enough super cheap homes too far out in the nowhere to have utilities with at least an acre of land on zillow right now........

[hedgehog-moss]

I say this with genuine care for you and all your creatures: You gotta get a real fence. One of these days someone is going to get out and it’s not going to end well. You do not want that kind of guilt on your conscience and you definitely do not want to deal with the kind of assholes on this site who will spend every day reminding you of it.

I do have a real fence! I spent 2 years building it. It was a big investment of time and money; people who've followed me for a while will remember what a long and gruelling process it was. It involves 2-metre posts, wood crossbars at the top and bottom, and solid wire netting which I spent hours and hours tying to the crossbars every 10cm (for hundreds of metres of fence!) so Pampe has absolutely no room to fit her head anywhere.

It's a marvel of modern engineering and Pampe has never managed to jump over it or break it on her own, but sometimes things happen to fences—last time it was a boar that ran through the netting, today it was a large branch that fell on a crossbar and broke it. I actually went to investigate before dinner to see what was wrong and if I could patch it up quickly tonight and repair it tomorrow.* I usually check the fence for damage after a storm but there was no storm this week, just some wind...

When Pampe gets out it's not because nothing is done to keep her in her pasture but because my fence is not made of pure titanium and Pampe is always quicker than me to detect any damage. She escaped twice this year, one time because of the boar hole, and once via a gap in the still-incomplete living fence I'm trying to grow, but then I made a better temporary fence in this area and she didn't get out again. I think the last time she got out before that was when I let the llamas graze in my neighbour's pasture (with his permission) for an afternoon, and his fence isn't Pampe-proof so it was a game of constant vigilance, which I lost. If I sound breezy when I write a Pampe escape post it's because I know she doesn't go very far, she goes for a stroll in my woods then comes back. The road near my house is a small road between villages where cows frequently wander about—you're much more likely to run into a cow than into my llama!

* Morille accompanied me when I went to inspect the fence earlier and had a wonderful time with the string I was trailing behind me :)

[obxsprincess]

please please pleasee make a luke × pillow princess smut

―💭✧˖° ♛ °˖🎀✧―

your lukes pillow princess, through and through. pillows n bedsheets always stained from your teary gloppy mascara ! and you even convinced him to buy silk pillows cus their better for your hair when hes balls deep inside of you </3 especially cus of your squirming and squealing, it messed up your hair so bad :( he bought them instantly, nothing came between luke and his girls puffy tight cunt. but what about being his sweet blanket princess?

“couldn’t just let me take you on a nice date- could ya’ mama?” he panted above you, his dark curls blocking the bright sun and falling on your whimpering tear stained face. “o-oh! fe-lt too empty” you whine all innocently. “course’ ya did, ma” pants pulled half way down his legs and your frilly panties thrown god-knows where, moans filling the luscious forest and your dizzy stained head. but he was just as much to blame !

it really did just start out as an innocent date tho. luke leading you through the oak trees and bushes cus you kept tripping over your own feet :( he was so mean when you jumped at any little branch breaking, and rolling his eyes he finally just picked you up with an annoyed sweep under your legs. he brought you to a stunning lakeside picnic where he finally set you down, all nonchalant as if he wasn’t the best boyfriend ever. as if he knew affection made you real horny which your clenching thighs and giggles gave away quickly… so technically he gave in

“k-kiss me” you whimper, suddenly feeling deprived as he ruts into your slick hole, wrapping your dainty arms around his neck you try to lift up, he groans cus your cunnie flutters but pushes you right back down, holding you there “fuckk nah see- pillow princesses dont getta’ make demands- you wanted dick baby, you got it,” he growls n your puckered lips pout, glassy eyes all puppy eyed, the pleasure becoming too much, but you try n hold in a sniffle, tears brimming your lash lines :( you just wanted a kiss ! “I-I won’t cum until you do” you whisper, hiding behind your hands n his neck with a sniffle. trying to avoid his amusement, all mean cus he likes seeing you like this, so so whiny and needy… with a raspy laugh he grabs your hands and pins the above you head… other hand gripping your wobbly jaw !

“ya’really crying all because m’too busy ruining’- fucking, this pretty pussy n not that makeup you got on, sweet girl?” his hand came down to gently grip your hip, making slow but deep love up into you, your soft sobs subsiding slightly “just- auh! wanted a kiss… wanted to feel loved luke!” those doe eyes and drooling lips could make luke do anything you ever wished, he was the most responsible camp counselor but one bat of your lashes had him doing some stupid shit (as in head over heels pussy whipped ahbcnsjhs)

he groans defeated, with a sigh he pulls your lips into his. all sloppy, wet and soft and it makes him move suddenly harder n harder back into you. you writhe n squeal into his mouth from the bliss ! “god- you can be real needy sometimes, your fuckin’ majesty. course’ I love you, just gotta dick you down fast and rough sometimes that’s all mama” (he fucking loves it just needs to do a little brat taming) but your cut off by lukes tongue probing into your drooling plump lips… his desperate little pillow majesty.

[moondirti]

imagine being the poor soul assigned to work a serial murder investigation under detective john mactavish.

you're good at your job. analytical, committed, discrete. possessing an eye for detail that turns the most convoluted problems simple, and a mental stamina to sustain you through the more gruesome aspects of your work. but with the explosive nature of this case, in particular — the crimes perfectly suited to garner media attention, victims offed too fast and sporadically for authorities to keep up, stirring an uproar by people who feel as though you are not doing enough — your captain sees it best to place someone… better liked, at the forefront. an agent able to empathise, communicate, reassure, and flash a comforting smile for the public.

charm, you think, makes for a lot of things. the rogue scot proves to you that it does not help make a good sleuth.

his investigation strategies are inelegant. the only thing he manages to do effectively upon processing every emergency call is waste department resources. by the time you arrive on scene — because being supplanted as head has its unfortunate effect on when you get notified — technicians are overwhelmed collecting trace materials he's deemed vital (though they're clearly not); pathologists have been given information conflicting with the results of their examinations, skewing results; and there's absolutely no sign of the profiler working on branching the series of murders to one suspect.

it's like that, day in and day out. the patterns you were slowly starting to uncover come apart quick. mactavish overwrites your list of suspects, trashes 'trivial' witness statements, takes informants off payroll to reallocate discretionary funds towards surveillance tools no one is trained to handle, and is an overall nuisance when you take up your complains with him. you know this case like the back of your hand, have worked on it for months now. if he could just heed your advice and think about what he's doing before he does it, then your combined efforts could crack things open sooner rather than later.

charming. reckless. he also seems especially gifted at steamrolling your complaints—

take it up wi' the boss, lamb. there's a reason ah got pit in charge—ye need tae stop worryin' yer wee heid aboot these things. jist look at ma track record. speaks for itself, i think. say, how aboot ah treat ye tae dinner an' a private massage this week'nd, help ye unwind? ye're a bonnie thing under that issued jacket o' yours. gotta learn tae take it off, sometimes.

it's your antisocial nature that shuts you up. or that's what you like to believe, anyway — the closest thing you can attribute an overactive stomach to. in your own time, you test the integrity of his word and pull some strings to access his history. a near perfect case clearance rate, go figure, accompanied by glowing recommendations from every captain he's ever served. described as clever, crafty, tenacious.

words and numbers don't exactly do much to ease your conscious. you need evidence, a lead, a testimony, an arrest, to believe all the praise — especially with a growing list of families whose grief doesn't get easier.

still, you're quiet. more pliant, afterwards.

johnny takes a liking to your attitude shift.

if not a shaky starting trust, it just means that you don't complain when he bullies you into his car to kickstart a canvass. or as he reaches over to fasten your seatbelt for you, or when he pinches your cheek with some cheery encouragement on the tip of his tongue. you're obviously tired, still suspicious, but you let him do what he wants with little to say about it; driving from street to street, knocking on doors and asking random citizens if they've seen or heard anything suspicious.

and really, it's the final test when, by dusk, he gets nothing more than a you still haven't found my stolen car.

he waits to see if you have something witty to say about what a waste of time it all was. a comment to really grind at his gears, muttered under your breath like all the other foul doubts you think he hasn't heard.

(driving to the last house on his list, the sky deepening from pink to purple to black. everyone at the office should have retired by now, and will have expected you to have done so yourself. it's really a wonder he managed to get you out here. you must have put sense on the back burner to miss the purpose this excursion lacks. the fact that neighbourhood canvasses are only done after a fresh crime scene. never like this, mid-week, for no reason at all.)

only you stay silent.

he's glad you can learn to listen.

home is a comfort after such a long, tricky day.

johnny lets you knock on the door this time, standing two steps behind so he can properly absorb his handiwork. when simon answers, nursing a cigarette with a mean, cruel twist of his lips, he feels his heart strain a little between his ribs.

"good work, mutt." a large fist hooks under the collar of your jacket. before you know it, you're being slammed into the doorframe, knocked unconscious, and hauled into the foyer. "this one's pretty. might jus' keep 'er."

"aye, sir. easy tae break too, ah reckon."

[fuctacles]

<< nine | 😺 | eleven >>

Posting early so you have something to think about on Thanksgiving. I'll be taking a break from posting my wips in December to focus on all the events. Speaking of, check out @genderthings @stmonstercalendar and @stevieweek

"They're so—" Eddie's sentence is broken with a yelp when Stephanie slaps his hands. 

"Fluffy?" Steph offers, going back to closing up her salon. "Soft? Healthy? They won't be if you keep touching them."

He huffs, slotting his hands under his armpits so he wouldn't be tempted to reach up. 

"If you want, I can get you some of that conditioner to take home. You could charm all the city girls with your nice hair." She turns to him with a smile, looking over her work once again. She pulls a strand of his hair back in place and Eddie imagines his band making it big, touring with a private hairdresser fussing over him before every concert. They'd take all the cats on the tour bus too.

"The city girls like my unkempt poor artist looks, thank you very much," he jokes. "The boys may appreciate it, though."

"For the boys, then." She smiles. "Did you walk here?"

He shakes his head. 

"Nah, I'm too lazy for that. You?"

"I try to walk to work as long as the weather lets me," she says. "Need to keep the old bones in shape." She pats her plush thighs distractingly, but it's not enough for Eddie to miss her words. 

He rolls his eyes. 

"Your bones aren't old. I was gonna offer you a ride, but maybe you deserve to walk since you're so young and energetic," he sends her a wry look. 

"Ah, but I always wanted a ride in a big old kidnapper van!" She bats her eyelashes at him, her playful pout in full swing. Eddie is so, so weak. 

"Don't call it a kidnapper van." He scrunches his nose. "It's a stoner slash garage band van," he corrects her.

"Ah, mea culpa. Lead me to your stoner van, then?"

"You call yourself old and yet you act so insufferable," he shakes his head with a smile and offers her his elbow. 

"Gotta keep something about me young," she jokes back and then yelps when Eddie pinches her in the side as she grabs his arm. 

"I think there's plenty young about you," he says, giving her a pointed up and down. 

"Yeah, bet you say it to all the old ladies," she snarks back. "When you help them cross the street or carry their—ah!"

"Oh my gods, Stephanie!" Eddie cuts her off, pressing her against the side of his van. "If you think you're old then call me a geriatrophiliac, because you're so hot I can't think about anyone else."

Steph's eyes are wide and her cheeks are flushed and he wants to kiss her so badly. He backs away, though, because he's a gentleman (sometimes) and wants to give her some space. Besides, he probably just crossed some lines he shouldn't have. 

She breathes out once he steps back, and chuckles. 

"You're just saying that," she deflects, making something in Eddie boil. "You're out there in college and I'm stuck here with my small hair salon."

"Oh, you mean you're a successful hot businesswoman with her own salon and plans to branch it out?" He raises an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips.

"Plans," she points out. 

"Very plausible plans," he adds. 

Stephanie shrugs. 

"Just, get in the car before I lose my patience." He shakes his head. But then seeing her hesitance he deflates, losing his bravado instantly. "Unless you're not comfortable with that? I promise I'll drive you straight home."

"Why would I be uncomfortable?" she asks, her voice a little small like she knows exactly why but doesn't want to put it out there. Albeit reluctantly, Eddie will do it for her. 

"Because I said I'm into you and now I'm inviting you inside my shady not-kidnapper van," he reminds her. 

"Yeah, but you're just saying that to make me feel better." Steph shakes her head softly, smiling her small, self-deprecating smile. "Which I do appreciate, but..." she trails off with a shrug.

Eddie is fed up with her. As beautiful as she is, her head is a maze she's clearly getting lost in and someone needs to pull her out of it. 

"Can I kiss you?" he butts in, realizing she's losing steam.

"What?" Her eyebrows jump in surprise. 

"Oh, you heard me." He takes a step closer, crowding her in. Maybe space is the opposite of what she needs. "Can I kiss you?" he repeats. "On the mouth. Tongue and all, if you don't mind."

He watches in real time as her cheeks turn red and her gaze drops down to his lips. 

"Here?" she breathes out. 

"Yes, here. So everyone knows how lucky I am." 

She looks up into his eyes, searching for any deceit but she won't find any. Her lips press together and come back shinier, wetter, and Eddie's own tingle in anticipation.

"Are you sure?"

Eddie's done with her. And done for her. He knows she won't admit what she wants, won't ask for it even when laid down on a silver platter in front of her. So he changes his question. 

"Just say 'no'." He leans just a tiny bit closer. 

She doesn't. Her eyes zero on his lips and her chest expands with her deep breaths. Eddie leans in more, and she twitches like she wants to reach back but won't. 

He closes the distance. 

Stephanie smells of hairspray and coffee. She's soft and perfect and he's afraid she'll flee if he touches her, but to ground them both, he reaches with his arms to cup her elbows, a safe place to hold her and not spook her. He moves his lips gently, slowly, but then he feels a tug on his jacket, which she grabs to hold on to him, and presses just a little bit closer. 

Eddie feels the exhale from her nose on his cheek as she relaxes against the van, giving him the illusion of towering over her, despite them being almost the same height. He slowly drags his hands up to caress her neck, angling her jaw gently how he wants it. When he finally sucks on her pouty bottom lip as he's been dreaming of, she exhales into him, tentative yet asking. She jolts at the touch of his tongue but parts her lips further anyway.

She feels like heaven and Eddie is almost ashamed by the sound he makes after tasting her properly, but her hand slides to his waist and he doesn't care about making a fool of himself in front of her and anyone else for that matter. 

If she wanted to, he'd deck himself in full jester attire just to make her smile, to take the load of worry off her chest. Oh, how he wants to take things off her chest. It's been a while since a simple kiss made him feel so giddy, so exhilarated, and he hopes she feels it too. 

He's excited for what's to come, not just in bed, though he hopes, yearns for that too, but making her happy and whole, seeing herself how he sees her. 

The sharp sound of a whistle pulls them apart. 

"Get a room, kids!" someone laughs jovially as a car slowly passes by, but by the time their heads snap towards it, it's gone behind the corner. 

"Well," Eddie chuckles softly. "Still feeling old?" he asks Steph with a smile that quickly falters when he can't read her expression. A million things he could have done wrong fleet through his head and he takes half a step back, but her hand is still holding on to his jacket. 

She's still relaxed against the van, so he forces his brain to quiet and waits. Her head tips back, exposing her neck and the faintest hint of an Adam's apple, invisible otherwise. He's ridiculously happy to be able to see it and hopes he'll be able to suck on it too. 

"I feel..." she finally says, and Eddie latches to every sound leaving her lips. "Something, for sure."

Nothing else comes so he trails his palm down her arm to gently squeeze at her wrist. 

"Good something?" he asks hopefully.

Their eyes meet again, giving him some relief, though the prolonged silence is fighting against it. He still waits and gives her time to think. She doesn't shake off his hand so he rubs his thumb against her pulse point.

Until it twists in his grasp, and he's ready to let go but she grabs at his fingers to squeeze back.

"I think so," she finally decides, giving him a small, tentative smile. 

my ko-fi bc i'm in deeper shit than i thought

the boys: @wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94

@tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman

@madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @lawrencebshoggoth

@hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets

[midnightstar-kpopsmut]

Chapter III, Stick it

- I stayed there for a couple of seconds – said Cheongtae -. I didn’t really know what to do after Karina bluntly asked for my help. Maybe it’s not even that, not knowing what to do. Sometimes I am just moody. You know that from the outside I can look like a tall, muscular, confident guy, but I don’t need much to be thrown off guard. I don’t have that kind of fast smart like reaction that other guys have. So a few seconds of that can be quite uncomfortable for me. You know what I mean. I actually think I have many repressed thoughts, like why would I be uncomfortable, like ever? It’s not like I have a knife to my throat if someone says something strange to me, so there must be many memories and fears that arise to me in those kind of moments, or in this moment with Karina.

- He is just stupid – added Jimmy to the recollection of events -, but I didn’t want to say that to him or it would have took him two weeks to finish his story. So I just said in Korean “I feel you, keep going.”, which is very difficult to learn and I can’t teach you now, and he kept going.

I follow Karina on the sofa zone, she is leading me. I told you how the middle of the room is strangely down elevated, you gotta take one or maybe two steps down. That makes me notice that she is barefoot, I had took some slippers at the entrance, but she hasn’t any, not even socks. Barefoot. Not that I care, because I am not into feet, I don’t understand what’s the point of that. I am waiting for someone to explain it to me. Anyway. We get to the middle of all the sofas, I am waiting for us to sit, but instead she turns and faces me. She is distressed. Just a touch, but she is so pretty, so it is easy to notice. She looks at me straight into the eyes and says: - Can you... hide them?

“Hide them? Hide what?” I think. O right, her breasts. That’s what we were talking about just before. - How would I hide them? - I say.

- Can’t we do some shape that would draw the attention away from them?

I shake my head slightly. You can’t draw attention away from tits that just gained two sizes and are stretching out of closely fitted clothes.

She sees that I am not convinced. - Do I need longer extensions? - I look at her and say: - Don’t you have already some on? - No! - she quietly screams by protruding her lips – Those are mine. Who are you confusing me with?!

Like I told you I had not seen her for a few months. I get why she scolds me, I didn’t took it personal, she was looking out for competition. Idols can be so possessive of their look and team.

- The only thing that could hide them, I mean draw attention away, is maybe a bob cut. But I don’t think we can go for that without consulting the rest of your team. Especially Hansuk, I need her approval. - Hansuk is the head of the visual branch of Aespa, added Cheongtae to Jimmy, she coordinates make-up, hair and clothes. Not married, sharp, you should meet her. Jimmy wasn’t interested. So he kept pressing Cheongtae to hear the rest of the story.

- I am NOT getting a bob cut. That is horrid. What is that? The idiots that think they can get away with a bob cut in our industry... Shameful. - She took a step toward me. - Try something else.

I evaluate my options. She has indeed call me for something complex, as I had imagine. At least she doesn’t seem to want to get a real cut right now, just get a feeling of what we can do.

- Shouldn’t we go in another room? - I say -. One with a mirror... A chair?

- Why? - says Karina, concerned – Here it’s ok. You can sit. It’s very comfortable.

She gently sits down on the main sofa, tries to calm herself. I put myself on her right, what else can I do?

- Oppa, you look at us everyday. You see that this is a big... change.

She puts her hands on the air around her tits and moves them, to further highlight what she is talking about.

- Why did you do it if you don’t like them? - I add.

- Oh but I do like them – she replies -, I always wanted them big.

I nod, then realize I am nodding as a reflex, and dare to ask -... Why? Why do you like them?

She gets aggressive: - I don’t know. I feel like guys like them big... Don’t you?

- Sure. - I wasn’t lying. I wouldn’t say it is breast is what I think about first, but still. Big can be nice.

She keeps going: - But my fans... They can be so... limited. I am famous for being savage, powerful. Not cheap.

- I know – I say. She was right. Kpop groups go out with a very defined look in mind. It’s difficult to break out from it, even with different concepts, it is not something you should usually aim for.

She rapidly flutters her eyelashes at me and says: - Do I look... cheap?

- No, you don’t. - I promptly answer. She was as classy and expensive as always. There was just something in her crop top, the fluffy texture, that gave her more of “that kind” of look. And it arguably made her breast look even bigger. As if you had to touch them. A devilish loop. But there was no point to underline that, she would have changed her outfit completely for the comeback.

- I am Karina – she says -, not some stupid whore... - She takes her phone out of her pocket and says: - Let me show you.

She gets on youtube and starts typing and swiping, looking for a specific video. She finally finds it and turns it to me.

- Here, her. - She says while starting the video.

The video is a performance of Kiss of Life on Mnet, dating of the 24th of July. - Stick it. - I say.

Karina pauses the video and gives me a tap on my left leg: - It’s Sticky. Not Stick it. You are such a dog...- She presses play again.

I don’t know Kiss of Life much, but in this performance one of the fourth members was giving much more then the others, in my opinion. She is boldest, more defined and you could say just more... vulgar.

- You are looking at Natty, right? - Says Karina.

- I don’t know their names. – I reply.

- The one with the big tits.

- She has quite a character.

The video goes on, on the refrain you can hear “Sticky, Sticky, Sticky”, the four members all slam their asses, then squat, then rise up and bend forward while turning their head to the camera. But Natty improves on the choreography by keeping her mouth fully open while she shakes her ass. The camera clearly favors her.

Karina stops the video exactly at that point, with Natty wide open in front of my face.

I try to say something: - See, she has a bob cut – she indeed had one -. You look at her face more than her... body.

Karina’s face looks disgusted. - She is such a whore. She will never get it. Kpop is not just about making guys hard.

I agreed. While looking at Natty spreading her legs, looking down, opening her mouth... I am surely not focusing on the song.

Karina notices it: - Even you! Look at you! You are looking at her open mouth.

I try to bring back the discussion to our common interest, her own look: - You don’t need to do that. We can use a big bandana for you. The attention will stay on your face and you will look fierce.

- I am so pissed – says Karina -, you heard that I had to stop see my guy, right? While this slut does this on stage.

I remember that Karina was dating a hot Korean actor that she had met in Milan for some fashion event, she was then spotted in Seoul by paparazzi and had to apologize publicly. I had heard rumors that she was still seeing him, though.

Karina continues: - If I get ANY hate for my boobs... I swear, I’ll kill someone.

She starts swiping again on her phone.

- This was the maximum I was allowed to do on stage.

The new video is a snippet from a performance of Next Level, one of Aespa biggest songs. Karina press play.

In the video, while the aggressive rhythm fills the venue, the four Aespa members bends forward, and Karina gently hits Winter’s ass with her hand,

On her living room Karina follows the video and hums: - Next level wa... - she taps my leg again, while the clip plays for a second time.

Then I don’t know if it is because we are not having a lot of sex with my wife, you often told me I should fuck her more, since she is pretty and all, but you know how it is with her, or because I am tensed with the whole idea of having to do an urgent work for Karina, plus the videos of course... Well, I start to stiffen in my pants.

The second play-through of the video ends, but Karina’s hand stays on my left leg. I can’t really brush her off, that wouldn’t be polite.

- Oppa – she says-, do you think I should get rid of this savage style? Be like Natty, just go... all in?

- You should do whatever you like. - I say, like an idiot.

- Oh, really... - She replies with a tone.

Karina slightly moves her fingers on my inner, left, tight. My dick is slowly and luckily growing to the right. My pants are large, so it stays barely perceptible.

She keeps adding – Maybe if I change my stile once and for all they will let me date. I kind of miss him. He is very, very horny. - She looks in my eyes to see how I react. Then looks at herself and says: - He is always looking at my big tits...

And there it is. At that point I get tired of this whole bullshit. This calling me on the middle of the afternoon to work on her hair, the long list of complaints, the talking to me about her boyfriend... I can’t take it anymore and jump on her.

I grab her small head and enormous mass of hair with my hand and throw my head at her lips. I am not that aggressive usually, but she had really annoyed me. So...

She can barely breath through the kiss, I don’t let her. She aggressively taps my leg with her hand, so I relax the kiss and grab her tits in response.

- Oppa!! - she says like a surprised kid – What are you doing?

Obviously I don’t stop. She is just acting up.

- This is not very professional... Even Jae doesn’t go this fast...

Right, Jae-wook. That’s the name of her actor boyfriend.

I grab Karina’s hand and move it to my now hard dick. She starts to squeeze it through the pants.

- Why are you in such a rush – says Karina-, I thought you needed more time...

- More time for what? - I ask, even though I hopes for her to shut up.

- To cheat on your pretty wife... - she says.

- Oh, fuck off. - I stand up and raise her light body with a finger. Then bend her to the head of the sofa and start pushing against her ass. We are still both clothed.

- I thought you liked my face, all those time you looked at me at your shop... Guess I was wrong!

I remove her cargo pants and underwear in a single movement. Then my own pants.

She is wet enough, and I am not in the mood to waste more time to make it comfortable for her. I grab my dick and push it in.

Now that I am fucking her, she has finally stopped talking. She gracefully arch her back to me, you can see that all the Kpop training is paying off. I should not be doing this, but then again who cares, I am not the first of the team that has fucked one of the idols, as you know this is more common than people can imagine. Their job is hard, and we all need to relax.

She slightly pushes her body against me. Her hips, previously enhanced by the cargo pants, are quite fragile. I grab them with my hands and slam her in response. She squeak.

Feeling my rhythm settling Karina pushes me harder, she wants more of the slams, but I am not ready to give it to her. To make her point she flaunts her thick, dark and long hair. I look at them, they are quite imposing. I have trimmed and reshaped those hair to perfection dozen of times. Watching them moving from behind is quite a spectacle. I stiffen. Karina groans and pushes. It is like fucking a lion. I get even harder.

- Oppa – she says-, you are so big...

I am surely bigger than normal. And I am quite proud of it. - Not only for a Korean – adds Jimmy -, he is bigger than a western guy as well.

I push my fully hardened dick inside her and say: - Isn’t it too big? My wife says it hurts her sometimes...

- Oppa... Your wife doesn’t like your huge dick? - She says while turning her head to me. - How is that possible, I like it so much... - her cunt contracts.

- She says she hits her at the end and it hurts. - I add.

- Then it’s not really cheating... - Karina says, closing her eyes – She can keep your bored, sloppy dick...

She touches my right hand on her waist and adds: - I’ll take the huge horse cock of yours... It goes so well with my big tits...

I instantly bend forward and grab her new big breasts through her soft crop top. I bury my head into her cascade of dark hair. My dick is now swelling in pain. The rhythm through which I slam it inside Karina rapidly intensifies.

- Oppa... You are going too fast... - she says.

I don’t answer and cover her mouth with one of the hands.

She frees herself from it and says: - Be careful... you don’t want to make me pregnant.

- What? - I ask while leaving her tits and putting myself straight up again – You don’t take the pill?

- I don’t take anything! - she says, while still pushing her ass and body against me. - Those shit are not good for your skin. But keep going... Tell me when you are almost there...

We keep pushing for a few more seconds, at that point I am almost done, who wouldn’t and I let her know.

- Wait for me... - says Karina. She pushes me out of her, puts herself on her knees in front of the sofa and grabs my dick with her two hands. - You can finish on my face.

I am almost there. She looks at me with her big, dreamy eyes and says: - Oppa, do you like my... - but then I explode into her face. Which at least makes both her eyes and mouth close shut. She keeps stroking my dick in silence. Her face is covered with my full built up of load.

There is one main river of sperm, the thickest one, that goes through her lips. A second, smaller one, deviates left on her cheek. Multiple other droplets constellate the rest of her face, which she has masterfully bended back to avoid staining her eyes.

Karina keeps her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the sperm on her face.

While looking at her I realize that, even through my numerous sexual encounters, I had never seen something so beautiful. It must have been the makeup, or the hair, or whatever else. Strangely enough, I had never had sex with an idol before.

Karina’s face looks like a painting.

That’s when I reach for my pants, specifically for the phone in my pocket. Karina thinks that I want to go and complains cutely. I give a pump of blood to my dick, so that it will look good on the picture. Karina feels it getting bigger into her hands and smile, still with her eyes closed. Resting like a diligent worker on her break.

I take the picture, put my phone away, and rise my pants.

She opens her eyes and throw herself into the couch.

- I should go – I say. Then I notice her horny look on her face and add: – Did you come?

- No, sorry – she says -. I think I need something more. To come, I mean.

- Yes, I get it. - I answer. What else could I have said? I didn’t have anything more than that to give. And it was also getting pretty late. Girls very often cannot get excited by sex alone, they need feelings, something like that. I said to myself that it must be the same for Karina.

I act with care and help her clean her face with a napkin. I am her employee after all. She doesn’t want me or her to go to the toilet to wash up though, strange.

Instead she grabs a soda from her fridge and rushes me off the apartment. Out in the hot city of Seoul.

- That is how Cheongtae told me he got this picture. - Said Jimmy. The American looked at him, wanting to know more.

- What did you say was your name, again? - Added Jimmy.

- Steven – said the American, that we can now call by his name -, my name is Steven, but you can call me Steve.

Jimmy waited for Steve’s question, which arrived after a few seconds: - Can I talk with Cheongtae? I’d really want to know more about his work in Kpop, it would help me for my job here as well.

- Well, that would be nice – said Jimmy -, very nice. Problem is Cheongtae told me this story one week ago, it had just happened, and I can’t get in contact with him since then.

- What do you mean, you can’t get in contact? - Asked Steven.

- What I mean is, that Cheongtae has disappeared. We are quite close. But I don’t know where he is.

At that Steven didn’t had an immediate follow up question. So we will have to wait and see for the next chapter to know more about his own train of thoughts.

[ceilidho]

exit, no entry wound joe bear graves x reader; part 1 (3.8k)

-

Local time at destination: 0500 hours.

And then the world rushes back to him like the culmination of a terrible dream.

Bear wakes up in another rosebush outside the front steps of the local library worse for wear. Blinking out of sleep-crusted eyes, shapes diverging in blurry unfocus before slipping back into material objects. A bench. A door. The thorny stems of roses already on their way out, already depetalling, the ground below covered in a thin layer of them. One petal even sticking to his cheek when he pulls himself off the ground, wincing at the branches that crunch around him, that tug against his skin and clothes.

His clothes smell of cheap liquor. Gin. Bourbon. It hurts to open his eyes, to sit up. 

“Morning, sunshine,” someone says. He remembers hearing it in his dream too. 

He looks to the source of his awakening, blanching when he notices the man staring at him.

Rip sits on the other side of the bushes on his haunches, looking deeply unimpressed. Hair slicked back for a change. “This what you get up to when I’m gone?”

Bear doesn’t respond. He struggles to his feet instead, hangover only just creeping in. Still drunk, to an extent. His knees threaten to buckle under him, forcing him to lay a hand flat on the wall to keep himself upright. One foot in front of the other. The walk home feels endless in the hour before dawn, hardly any light to guide him. 

“Pretty pathetic shit, Bear,” the man says, trailing along behind him. Not quite mockingly, but bordering on it. “Getting piss drunk and passing out in a bush? Really? C’mon, man. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

There’s no sense in responding, Bear knows that now. No sense in even turning around to look. One foot in front of the other. Stumbling home alone under the cloak of night, dawn just around the corner; terrified that one day he’ll have to see it—the sun coming over the mountains, over the horizon. 

It’s been less than a year. He hasn’t yet made his amends with God. Forgiveness sits outside of him. Not quite the right time to let it in. Maybe that time passed a long time ago, a small aperture that shuttered closed at the approach of his eyes. He missed it sometime between killing a boy and losing his mind.

A man cannot hold himself up on the scaffolding of the world alone. There has to be something beneath him. There is no sense in repeating the horrors of the world back to him; he’s already lived them. He’s got something of a Midas touch for death. 

The months have been long since the divorce was finalised, since Lena left for good, since Buckley died, since Rip—since it all went down. If he thinks about it for too long, it seems like a nightmare that he woke up from still mad about; a nightmare he had no choice but to drink himself into a stupor over to escape. That’s the reality of the world. 

“You know, Bear, you’re not the one that’s fuckin’ dead,” Rip spits as he follows behind, matching Bear’s stumbling gait stride for stride. “So you can stop acting like it.”

There’s a truth in Rip’s words and it leaves him feeling nauseous. There’s also a kink in his neck and a headache threatening to split his forehead open. In the belly of him, he has a truth that says that the firmament of heaven is beyond his reach. When he looks up and the sky is void of coruscating light, the meagre stars like an exit with no entry wound, it doesn’t surprise him. Of course there wouldn’t be anything there.

On a good day, his heart feels like it’s weathered a siege. 

“So she left you! It’s time to fuckin’ move on. Go to a bar—I mean, you already are, so step one done—and pick someone up. Go on Christian Mingle or something. You keep living your life like this and you’re going to wind up killing yourself. And then the fuck good that’ll do?”

It takes everything in him to not turn around and do something rash. Only the nausea keeps him from making any sudden movements. Even if he were to turn around and do something, his knees would probably buckle under him. Probably throw up the contents of his stomach. Not much in there either. It rumbles when he thinks that, clenching at the thought of food. Then it twists, the nausea returning. 

One foot in front of the other. The walk home takes twice as long, his whole body aching.

“Heard you almost quit. Wouldn’t be the worst idea you ever had. Let Buddha take over—he’s earned it. Get yourself a nice piece of land in fuckin’…Montana or something. Couple cows, maybe some chicken—you could get a dog, Christ. You look like a guy who’d have a dog. Why don’t you have a dog, actually? You would’ve told me if you didn’t like dogs, so it’s not that.”

His forehead is greasy when he touches it to rub his head. Body secreting poison in his sleep. Oily. The corners of his lips crack when he yawns. It’s not like he’s never thought about a dog, about having something to care for, another living thing in his house. 

But—

(“Bear? …I don’t think we should have a child.”)

What he wants often falls to the wayside, slides off him like a glancing blow. 

Her old, familiar shape appears at the sudden loss of a dream: one where Lena’s gaze lingers on him long enough to burn; but then it is the sun.

Bear watches dawn break. Sunday morning. In a different life, he would’ve squinted into the light of a new day and closed his eyes against it, curling into the slighter body tucked into his chest for another hour of rest. Felt the rise and fall of her chest. Woken up to a hot mouth on his cock or fingers curling in his chest hair, petal lips seeking him out. Church after that, showering off the remnants of their morning, solemn in their pews with their chests still holding the laughter of an hour previous. Light as air, as a feather. 

He won’t go to church today; hasn’t in months. Not with the guilt of missing it the week before trailing after him, each missed week compounding month after month. The cracks in his faith webbing. Splintering out like stepping on the lake when it freezes over in the winter, crunching under his boot until he holds his place. Conscious that it could break under his feet.

“I grew up with a dog,” Bear finally responds, voice hoarse. First thing he’s said since last call at the bar. 

“Yeah. Figures. What kind?”

“Black lab. We called her Daisy.”

It’s another lifetime ago. Still living in his parent’s house, Daisy curled by his dad’s feet, her favourite spot to sleep. Television playing at a low volume, mom at the kitchen table doing her crossword, ink bleeding into the side of her hand. It’s been a long time since Bear buried all of them. He’s buried countless people since. 

“What—can’t get another? One and done? That’s how everything works for you?”

Teeth raze across his skin again. Trust Rip to always cut to the quick. Finally back in his neighbourhood at least, the street empty apart from the cars parked in their driveways or along the sidewalk. Bear’s stomach rumbles something fierce now, entreating him to eat. Worse than hunger is how he’d kill for a glass of water though. Anything to settle his head.

“Haven’t wanted a dog,” Bear grumbles, then clears his throat.

“Yeah, you have,” Rip scoffs. Bear hears him kick a rock, sending it skidding across the asphalt. 

“Fuck off.”

Heart silicified in his chest, composed of fossilised shells and rocks and bones. It feels heavy in his chest. 

He turns down the street leading to his house. 

“Gotta let someone else in, Bear. Girl, dog—whatever. You can’t keep this up forever or it’ll kill you.”

When he turns around at the door, fishing in his pocket for his keys, the sidewalk beyond his house is empty. 

(So a man lies down and rises not again; till the heavens are no more he will not awake or be roused out of his sleep.)

Every Friday like clockwork, Bear stops at the diner down the street for a coffee and a slice of cherry pie before heading to the bar. 

Today is like any other. He leaves the house with only his keys and wallet and walks the long twenty minutes to the diner. Every time he fights the urge to drive, but there has to be something holding him in place. A reason not to throw it all away. 

It’s never completely empty when he shows up, but it’s never full either. His seat at the back of the room is open as usual, like they put up a sign before he comes ambling down the street that says Reserved for Joe Graves and then pluck it away before he opens the door. It’d be nice if that were the case. Nice to have something just for him for a change. The thought comes with its accompanying pang of shame. Desire is a dangerous thing; anything he’s ever wanted has come at him with sharpened teeth, clamping down on his leg and ripping through the flesh. Bear trap for old Bear. 

He slides into the booth and waits for someone to notice him. Never bothers to flag someone down—if it’s ten minutes or even half an hour before he’s served, that’s fine by him. 

“Hiya,” a clear voice says to his right, pulling him away from staring through the blinds out the window. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea?”

The face Bear turns to meet is pleasant, smiling. Wide and untroubled. It’s not a face he recognizes though, despite months coming to this diner and becoming familiar with the staff. If he had to guess, he’d bet she only started a few days ago, maybe a week at most. She still has the sparkle of someone who hasn’t had the goodness beaten out of them yet. 

“Coffee,” he says, his own smile strained. “And a slice of pie.”

“Sure—we have key lime, blueberry, apple—”

“Cherry,” he interrupts, not letting her build steam. The wick in his chest burns too low for any conversation. The quick flicker of her brow makes the shame in his chest swell again. Forgive me sitting on his lips, unsaid. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I do this. 

She nods and scurries off to the back, skirt swishing with her movements. Bear notices only because his eyes get stuck there, somewhere between the curves of her hips and the roundness of her ass. When he realizes where he’s let his mind wander, he pulls it back, flattening his lips into a hard line. Any sort of indulgence feels wrong, a taking that shouldn’t be taken. He hasn’t even begun to pay penance for all the damage he’s wrought. 

It’s only on her way back that Bear notices the small bump protruding from under her apron. His mouth goes dry. When she reaches him again, he wordlessly accepts the cup of coffee and her reassurance that the pie will be out in just a minute. For a moment, he can hardly meet her gaze, eyes locked on the gentle curve of her belly, caught off guard in a way he hasn’t been in months. 

The first thought with any clarity is, what is she doing working here? A crummy diner on a Friday night. Down the street from an even sleazier pub. His second thought is to look outside at the poorly lit stretch of road and think that this is no place for a pregnant woman to be alone. He recognizes each car in the parking lot save one, likely hers. Drove herself here with the expectation of driving herself home at the end of the night.

If it had been Lena—well, he never would’ve let it be Lena, but if it had been, Bear can’t imagine letting his pregnant wife drive herself home in the middle of the night. Can hardly stomach the thought. 

She’s not Lena though, so he has no right. 

She’s gone before he has time to say anything else, skirt swishing behind her. It catches his eye again. When he tears his gaze away for a second time, he swallows back the metallic taste of self-loathing. It curdles in his mouth. It’s the sign telling him to stop coveting, stop looking out into the world and wondering what he can take. It’s his hamartia, his fatal flaw; thinking himself above the reproach of God. Thinking that he can kill, fuck, curse, and stray farther and farther from the light only to find his way back in the dark. 

The bell above the door rings when someone else comes in and Bear tenses. His shoulders only relax when two older women step in and head to a table. 

He watches as she picks up a plate from the pass-through window and heads back towards him. When she places it in front of him, he draws a deep breath in, trying to catch more than just the aroma of fresh baked cherries. 

“Here we go…one slice of cherry pie, straight out of the oven.”

“Thanks, honey,” Bear rumbles, smile finally meeting his eyes. 

“No trouble. The guys in the back said they make it special for you. Joe, right?”

That gets him to levy her with the full weight of his attention. The thought of her asking about him. “I go by Bear.”

“Oh. Alright, Bear.” She twists the word around in her mouth and seems to find it satisfying. “I think I’ve heard your name before. You were—I mean, you’re part of Pastor Adams’ parish, right?”

He clears his throat, cutting off the triangle point of his pie with the side of his fork. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Me too,” she confides, voice a low whisper. A secret between strangers. She doesn’t glance around though, doesn’t bother to draw out the ruse. “Or, I was, anyway. Haven’t been to service in awhile. I, um…I remember you. From a year or so back. You and your—um…you and your wife used to always sit up at the front.”

The fork scrapes against the plate. “Ex-wife.”

He catches her wince from the corner of his eye. “Oh. Sorry. You just—” She doesn’t have to say it. The slight dip of her eyes tells him all he has to know, and besides, it’s his own fault for still wearing the ring. Even with the paperwork signed and dated, even with Lena in another state now, starting a new life without him, the thought of taking it off makes him break out in a cold sweat. 

“It’s not—” Bear starts before giving up. He curls his fingers into a fist on the table. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. Not a big deal.”

She fidgets in the silence. Bear can’t bring himself to break it or make the atmosphere less oppressive. He tenses under it, the ache in his low back worsening. These days, he always aches. Nerve damage, a disc on the verge of slipping, an old ankle injury that flares up whenever he goes running. A ghost that follows him from haunt to haunt. The ring on his finger is just another old ache. 

“So, uh—” he clears his throat, nodding to her belly. “Your first?” 

It’s inappropriate, hardly his place to ask. Incredibly intrusive for someone he’s met for the first time, a stranger just trying to do her job and serve him coffee and pie before he goes off to drink himself half to death again at the dive bar down the road. 

Still, he asks. 

Only the faintest wrinkle of her nose betrays any embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. First one.”

“Congratulations.” It’s sincere. The envy in his gut is old, but it’s a manageable pain. 

“Thanks,” she says, with a small, private smile, hand resting absently under her belly. “I’m excited. I’m only a couple months along, but, uh…it’s been a journey. Just me and baby against the world, you know.”

That stops him in his tracks. Screws up the whole course of his evening because suddenly the sound of the bell over the door jingling doesn’t draw his attention away. It stays fixed on the smiling girl to his right that just opened her mouth and said something unacceptable. 

“Where’s the dad?” he asks, far too bluntly. 

She shrugs. “Somewhere. Didn’t stick around long enough to tell me where. It’s fine though—I’ve got my little peanut. That’s all that matters.”

“You told him and he left?” 

The pie sits cooling in front of Bear as a pit in his stomach opens up. It’s a terrible, empty hole that holds truths like the fallibility of the body and the good shouldering the burdens of the world.  

He only regrets being so direct when her lip quivers, a little motion that betrays her until she wrests control over her face again. “It’s not his fault. I don’t think he was—well…you know, it was a surprise.”

“That’s—” he struggles to find his words, “—that’s not right.”

Again, she shrugs. “That’s life.”

Bear feels his eyes go hard. A coldness settles under his skin. 

In the deep, dark gut of him, only anger lives. He spends his days questioning why God has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart, has allowed countless other people to die, but refuses, for reasons unbeknownst to him, to kill him. He’s given him enough opportunity and enough reason. 

The answer he circles back to time and again is the same. An eye for an eye. Divine wrath. The litany of his sins could be sung until the end of time and there’d still be more to sing. It’s only right that there would be consequences for him. 

The rage that simmers in his blood now is twofold. It begins with the sharp pang of injustice, of witnessing a punishment meted out to someone innocent. The girl standing by the booth he’s shoved himself into, almost too small for a man of his size, cannot be deserving of the same punishment that he’s brought upon himself. She has never killed. The babe in her belly has never killed. The two of them should never have to meet at the point of two paths converging with the likes of someone like Bear and proceed down the same road together. 

Then it sinks into a familiar territory. A place at the core of him where righteousness gives way to envy, as it always does. After what he's been through, the thought of someone having everything that he's always desperately wanted handed to them on a silver platter and then sending it back leaves him feeling a bit off-kilter. Not quite right. 

“Bear?” Her voice breaks the silence. When he blinks, concerned eyes stare down at him, brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, dragging a hand down his face. Shaking it off. “Sorry, I—got lost in my head. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright,” she says, again gentle in her voice and smile. “Easy place to get lost in, isn’t it?”

He makes a sound in acknowledgment. Drags the silence out. Her mouth twists shy under his scrutiny. 

“Anyway, I have a few other tables to get to, if you don’t mind. Enjoy your pie. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

He eats his slice of pie in silence as she leaves, eyes following her to her next table. Rage still sizzles under his fingertips. It makes his hands shake, old nerve damage and anger problems. 

It’s like a gun punch to think of her all on her own. It’s not right. For someone like him, well, it’s—deserved, earned. Inevitable, even. Every step taking him further away from grace, from its light. No one who knows his story would think otherwise. 

She’s a pretty thing though, this new waitress. Too tired, the bags under her eyes testament to that, no matter how well she hides them with makeup. Slightly puffy anyway, maybe from a lack of sleep or too many tears. His stomach aches at the thought. It must have come as a shock, the bottom of her world dropping out from under her when the baby’s father took off. Dragged away from the church not through her own doing, but the fault of another. Not her shame to bear, and yet. 

He forces the pie down. Bites that taste like nothing, 

Bear hears the lilt of her voice from two tables over. “Refill on your coffee, hun?” 

A supplicant sits in his place as he sips his coffee. The hour slips by into the next and it starts to come together in his mind. Why he's been forced down this long road alone, why God hasn't struck him down yet despite every terrible thing he's done. His eyes follow her flit across the diner, the light seeming to bend around her like a halation. 

When Bear looks across the room at her, he thinks, Lord, do not think I am waiting patiently for your hands. Every part of me trembles with anxiety.

(O Lord, show me I can fall apart together again; but not just yet.)

He stays until the last customer has finally left, waiting for her to come back to his table with an apologetic smile. When she does, Bear hands her his empty plate, watching her take a step back when he scoots out of the booth, rising to his full height. He makes note of the way her eyes round as they follow him up. Taller than her, unsurprisingly. Surprising though, the way her bottom lip droops just the slightest bit. 

“Is it just you closing up?” he asks, voice a tad too gruff. He clears his throat again, looking around for anyone else. 

“Well, the chef’s cleaning up in the back, but, uh—” she looks around the diner, conspicuously empty apart from the two of them. “Yeah. Just me.”

Bear gestures with his chin towards the door. “I’ll wait ‘till you’re done, then walk you to your car.”

“Oh, Joe—”

“Bear,” he corrects.

“Bear,” she amends, fingers twisting together now. He relishes the sound of it on her lips. “You don’t have to. I’m used to it, honestly. I know I just started here, but I’ve done closes before, you know.”

“I’ll wait outside.” A statement now. Stubborn. He’s always been a bit mulish, hard to shake off. 

He can tell the second she relents, shoulders slumping. “Alright. I shouldn’t be too long…you can leave if you get bored though. Won’t blame you.” 

He fights the urge to tilt her head up by the chin to make her meet his eyes. Just barely restrains himself. 

Leaning against a tree out front, he twirls the ring around his finger as he watches her clean up. For the first time in a long time, he slips it off.

[eymie]

APPLE PIE !

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), PinV, pet names, softdom!billy, body worship, teasing, overstimulation, semi public,

summary: billy likes to play poker with your older brothers, now he's started to take a liking to you.

a/n: did not check for mistakes.

Billy knew your brothers. They hung around and played poker with him at the saloon, which was off limits to you. Neither your father or older brothers wanted you in there with the dirty old men that’d probably grab and flirt at you. Pulling you onto their laps.

But Billy caught your eye. Sometimes he’d stop by your family’s ranch, come see if your brothers were home. Maybe he needed a favor.

The way his deep brown hair was messy, and there was dust smeared on his nose and cheek. His clothes fitting just right.

You only ever ran into Billy a few times. Maybe you answered the door or saw him around town tying up his horse. Brief greetings, you were his friend’s little sister after all. You thought he was a bit shy but who were you to judge.

It was hotter out lately. Your mother ordering you to go check for fresh eggs in the chicken coops and to pick a few apples to make pies later.

Your heeled boots climbing up the wooden fence to reach the apples on the higher branches. The stool was in the barn and the fence was right there. You stretched up as far as you could to reach a perfectly ripe apple. You heard a deep voice behind you and fell back. A strong pair of arms catching you from behind.

“Gotta be more careful.” You recognized the voice immediately. Billy let go of you when you stabilized yourself on the grass. “Don’t you got a stool for that?”

“Well, it’s in the barn…” You looked up at him, admiring his blue eyes you had yet to notice before now. You’d never been this close to him.

“You should probably grab that. Don’t want you getting all muddied up.” He brushed some mud off your cheek with his thumb.

“Thanks Billy,” you mumbled stepping back a bit, stumbling over your feet. His cowboy hat shadowing his face from the summer. He hummed in response.

“Either of your brothers home?” He asked, pulling his hand away from you. He hadn’t noticed how pretty his closest friends little sister really was. “See, I gotta talk to them.”

“You could come in and wait.” Your face felt hot with embarrassment after you had said that. Flirting with this man you barely knew.

“Hmm, I don’t want to over stay my welcome.”

“You’re always welcome Billy.”

“I’ll help you carry those apples and eggs in.”

“Thank you.”

He followed you into the house. Your mother was on the back porch embroidering and your father was out. Your brothers were probably off in the saloon or elsewhere with your father.

Billy placed the basket on your table.

“I don’t know when they’ll be back.” You say to him, avoiding his gaze. He was so close to you. You’ve never felt this shy around a man before.

“I don’t mind at all, can’t stay long though.” He was, his calloused hand brushing your arm.

“Whys that?” You ask, moving your arm to feel him against your skin once again. You sounded so innocent talking to him. Knowing your intent was anything but that.

“Why I can’t stay long?” He asked, furrowing his brows. You watched his adam’s apple bobbed as he opened his mouth to speak again.

“No, why don’t you mind being alone with me.” You asked him, catching him off guard. Not expecting this surge of confidence within you.

“I think that’s self-explanatory.”

“I want you to explain.”

“I don’t mind spending time with a pretty girl like you.” Your heart rate sped up a bit. Heat rising to your face. Billy smiled at your flustered look.

“Billy, I like you.” You confessed, pulling his hand in with yours. His hands were bigger than yours, he was much taller too. You couldn't help but wonder how they'd feel inside of you.

“I see the way you look at me.” He stated, you let go of his hand looking back up at him embarrassed. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off before you could. “Shhh, I’m admiring you.”

You mouth opened, your stared into his blue eyes. A soft smile on his face as he looked down at you. He brought a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing your skin.

You pulled him down, your lips brushing each other before you pulled him in. Billy kissed like it was the last thing he’d ever do. No mans ever kissed you like this. His hands gripping at the fabric of your dress. Your hands entangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

His body pushed you against the table, a moan escaping you lips. He groaned into the kiss in return. His tongue slipped past your lips, brushing against the tip of yours.

“Please,” you whispered against his kiss-swollen lips. His kisses trailed down your jawline and neck. Nipping at your skin. Your leaned your head to the side to give him better access. “Billy.”

He hummed against your skin, His fingers pulling at the buttons of your dress. You whined, pulling his hands off you. You prayed your mother was still distracted by her embroidering.

Billy reluctantly pulled away. His breathing was heavy as he stood over you, his hands on either side of your body. You felt his warm breath against your skin, his bottom lip brushing your forehead.

“Billy, I want you.” You whispered in his neck. The back of your dress partially unbuttoned.

“I reckon you got a room.” He mumbles and you nod. He pulls back, releasing you from his cage. Your hand pulling him down the hall to your room. It was the smallest room in the house, the window outlooking the pasture.

Billy had pushed the door shut, he didn't waiting to push you onto your small bed. Allowing him to unbutton the rest of your dress. He doesn't bother yet with the clothing underneath yet.

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled into your lips as he kissed you deeply. His knee slotted between your thighs under the skirt of your dress. His hands travel under your garments to feel your skin.

You whined in embarrassment, covering you face with your hands.

“Don’t cover yourself.” He grabbed your hands, pulling your wrists forward. He kissed down your body, in between your breasts. Letting go of your wrists to push up your chemise, kissing your breasts. You whimper as his teeth graze your erect nipples. Your back slightly arches off the bed and his hands slide under your back to support you.

You feel his hands pull down you bloomers, feeling his calloused hands on the smooth skin of your thighs. You let him pull off your chemise leaving you bare underneath him.

"Billy, you too." You whine, resting on your elbows. Your thighs were clenched together tight. His hands traveled to spread them apart.

"Let me see you first." You allowed him to spread your thighs. His thumb parting your wet folds. Your breathing getting faster as he smeared your slick around your folds. "This all for me?"

You didn't respond, you couldn't without your voice cracking. So you nodded instead, allowing him to continue to touch you. He kissed your knee as he spread your legs further apart. He rested his cheek against your thigh admiring your wet pussy before sliding a finger in.

Your jaw fell open letting out a small whimper. His single finger was longer and thicker than yours. You closed your eyes as you adapted to the feeling. His long finger slowly slid out and back in. He kissed along your inner thigh as he worked on your pussy.

"More?" He mumbled into your thigh. His eyes looked up to meet your closed ones. His thumb rubbed against your clit to get your reaction. "Come on, words now baby."

"Yes, more please." Was all you said, he obliged, pushing another finger in stretching you wider. His fingers sped up, curling in a "C" shape. You let out soft moans, slowly moving your hips.

His fingers pressed into a certain spongey spot inside of you emitting a squeak from your throat. You arched your back off the bed and Billy continued to brush his fingers into that spot. You eyes rolled back when his hot tongue met your clit. Flicking it before wrapping his lips around it. Moans of his name leaving your lips as you entangled your fingers into his brown curls.

"Billy, oh- I'm close. Please." Your hips jerked as you whined out to come, You felt him nod between your thighs. You threw your head back as you jerked your hips against his hand and face. Your back arching off the mattress as you cry out his name. Vision going white as you cum around his thick digits.

He looked up at you between you thighs, continuing to suck onto your clit. You whined trying to pushing his head from in between your thighs. He pulled his wet fingers out, using his hands to hold your legs apart. He was stronger than you were.

"Too much, Billy. Please, can't take it." She whined as she continued to try and push his head. His tongue explored her, licking and sucking her come. His tongue thrusting in her entrance making her cry out. "Billy, no more!"

She whined out before she came around his tongue again within a matter of minutes. Heavily breathing as he came up from between his wet thighs. His large hands rubbing and soothing his inner thighs.

He leaned down to kiss you, the taste of yourself on your tongue. Your hands cupped his face, your juices smeared on his chin.

His hands unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. You looked down and let out a whimper. He was bigger than you had anticipated. If his legs weren't preventing yourself from closing, they'd be clenched shut. "Billy..."

"Shh, you gonna be a good girl?" He asked, lips still brushing against yours. You nodded as he spread your thighs again. He pulled them above his hips so you could cross them around his torso. "I'll be nice."

"You don't have to be." She whispered against his lips as his tip prodded at her wet entrance. He groaned, kissing her deeply to swallow and moans as he pushed in. His tip stretched you out, a slight burn that made you whimper into his kiss. You couldn't help but clench around him as he pushed into you. Inch by inch. He felt never-ending.

He let you adjust when he bottomed out. Slightly grinding against your hips feeling impatient. "You're so goddamn tight."

"Move." You muttered against his lips. He pulled out a few inches before pushing back in. You moaned out, surprised at the sensation. He thrusted into you slowly until you were whining at him to speed up. "Billy, faster- please."

His thrusts were relentless, you were a moaning mess underneath him. His hand hooked on the inner part of your knee to hit a deeper angle inside of you.

His lips travelled along your jawline, whispering incoherently into your skin. Grunting when he hit certain spots inside of you. His cock pressed against all the spots that made you cry his name. His lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck. Sucking a deep purple bruise into it.

"So wet- tight, fuck." He groaned into you. Fucking you harder. Your nails clawed at the fabric of his shirt, tugging it off to feel his skin. He shrugged off his button up shirt allowing you to scratch down his biceps. "Harder, please baby."

You nails left red streaks on his skin, digging in close almost enough to draw blood.

"Good girl, take it." He mumbled, his thumb rubbing your puffy clit. You let out a loud moan you pray no one nearby heard. The sounds Billy drew out of you were unholy, filthy.

"Biily, I-" He cut you off with a harsh thrust. You moaned out, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Come for me, come on." He rubbed her clit faster as your breathing picked up. The wet slapping noises almost overtaking it. "You're almost there."

His hands held your back as your chest pressed into his. Your hard nipples rubbing against his. Her come coating his thick cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, eventually pulling out. Spurts of his cum coating your lower stomach.

He kissed your sweaty hairline, rubbing your sides as you calmed down. His fingers entwining with your temporarily until you both heard the front door creak open.

masterlist

[foone]

Now I'm imagining a totally different version of that mini-story shitpost (I'd call it a ficlet if it was more serious), where it's a story about a floret elaborately planning an escape, but with a twist.

(mini-hdg fic follows. No sex, but this an inherently dubcon/noncon setting and there are some very minor references to that)

They figured out how to bypass some restrictions on the matter compiler by asking for things with components that could be reused. They've hidden tools inside some of their plushies, pushed to the back so their owner won't accidentally notice them.

Finally, it's time. The door to her quarters falls quickly from the acid attack (she's been doing hidden chemistry for Weeks). The ion storm will blind some of the sensors, so they only need a little extra help to not notice a DIY escape pod falling out of an auxiliary cargo bay.

The escape pod soft-lands (well, mostly. It hit a few tree branches on the way down) on the nearby habitable planet, and the door pops up. A floret in some brightly colored doll clothes resewn into hiking gear pops out. She holds up a sensor with a little screen on it, and it shows one big blue dot. Suddenly the dot grows, the screen's image is swamped out, and then it returns: nothing. No dots. The Cembroides has jumped out of the system. She's free without anyone noticing. She tosses aside the sensor she rigged out of a hair cutting machine, grabs some supplies from the pod, and hikes north.

A few kilometers later she finds a clearing with a small log cabin recently built in it. She opens the door without knocking, and says "Did you miss me?"

Her owner puts aside her book. "Of course I did little one! I was worried when your pod came down in the dense forest, but I see you made it safely here."

The floret smiles. "I wasn't worried! I used some hoverunits from an old medi-bed design, so my pod was slowed down enough that I just got jostled a bit. The real trick was figuring out how I could make the pod smart enough to land me near the cabin but not so smart that it'll discover what I'm doing and alert the Cembroides AI... I ended up with a nano-computer out of a dining tray wired into the thrusters. It thinks it's keeping my lunch warm, not flying a spaceship!"

Her owner beams an expression of leafy pride at her. "That's all very interesting, and I look forward to reading your report on it. But for now, come cuddle with mommy, and drink up. You've been hiking through the forest, you need hydration and nutrients now, little one."

The floret jumps into her vines, literally, and buries her face in the leaves of her owner. "it was a lot of fun! I've got some great ideas for the next time, too". She yawns, and cuddles closer, her eyes slowly closing. "But for now I think I'll rest..."

A distance away in the alien jungle, a small creature scurries out of the abandoned escape pod, as the discarded sensor loudly beeps an alert as one of the Cembroides' shuttles makes an FTL jump back into the system.

Back at the cabin, the Affini gently pats the head of their floret. You gotta make sure your pets have plenty of enrichment, you know? And sometimes that means letting them "escape", just so they can have the enjoyment of figuring out their escape plan.

The shuttle sets down besides the cabin, and the Affini carries her sleeping pet out to it, pausing only to activate a system to reclaim the cabin back into biomass for the forest to use. The shuttle takes off silently, and the sound of birds and other forest wildlife slowly returns, as the cabin slowly melts like a sand castle at high tide.

That sensor by the pod beeps again as the shuttle jumps out to meet up with the Cembroides, and something not entirely unlike a deer darts off into the denser forest in fright.