#either that or a mirror fucker

[saeccharine]

i literally hate kaiser and still chose him…

WHO IS BETTER AT BACKSHOTS… meaner.. aggressive.. hotter.. sexier…

[samuraisharkie]

just finished watching Uncle Vanya for the first time. I think Doctor Astrov and the Professor should kill themselves

[bi-writes]

mail order bride meeting 141 for the first time 🙏

mail-order bride

he likes the way this moment sounds. it will end soon, when you both walk out the door, but for now, he sits, and he doesn't want it to end.

it's not just the sound of the television. his favorite football team has finally fucking put one into the corner of the net. the announcers cheer, but this isn't all that he hears.

the cat is in the kitchen. he can't see it, but he hears it (the little fucker). she's pawing at the cat grass that sits above the sink now. when he leans forward, he notices her little nose pushing it around before she takes a bite out of it.

she leaves the basil alone.

and then there's the sound of you. your feet in the bedroom. when you pass by the doorway, he can see you in different states of getting ready. when you pass by this time, he can see your eyeliner is on both eyes now, not just one, and your hair doesn't have clips or pieces to hold it in its style anymore. it lays perfectly now; he did a double-take when he saw it this way for the first time. you're rifling through the closet now. your clothes used to be in their own drawers. separated. socks not touching one another. your half of the closet, and his half. perfectly divided.

he doesn't remember when it happened. he found your bra under his t-shirt today. he was going through the jackets because your dresses were now between them. in the bathroom, he almost stuck your toothbrush in his mouth because they rest side-by-side in the holder.

when he looks around the room, he can't see where you begin, and he cannot see where he ends. he doesn't see where he started.

but he can see where you will go.

you bounce into the living room, holding up two hangers. there's dresses on each of them, one a dark color, the other light, and you hold them in front of simon who's still sitting on the couch, his head in his hand as he concentrates on the game (where he pretends like he hasn't been thinking about you too hard to really focus).

"simon?" you call, and he grunts, looking over at you. "which one do you like?"

he looks over the two dresses before looking at you. he hums, leaning back against the couch. he shrugs before looking back at the telly. you would look like perfection in either of them, but that isn't what you asked, and that isn't the answer you want.

"the darker one. like ya in tha' color."

you smile a little before going back into the bedroom, hanging the other dress back up and laying the other one out on the bed. you rummage through the dresser for proper undergarments, picking a soft lace pair of panties with a matching bra. you slip them on before stepping into the dress.

you reach around for the waist, and when your attempts to grab it are futile, you look over your shoulder towards the door.

"simon?" you call out gently. "could you come here, please?"

there's a shuffle of sound before simon steps into the bedroom. you point to your back, smiling at him shyly.

"c-could you help me? i can't reach the zipper."

he makes his way over to where you stand in front of the mirror. you watch as his eyes roam over your back, as he takes in the sight in front of him. you swallow as he drags a few knuckles down the length of your spine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours in the mirror before he takes the zipper in his hand and pulls it up. when he finishes, he steps a little closer, dipping his head to look at you from over your shoulder. you turn your head to look up at him, smiling.

"everything okay?" you ask softly, and he clicks his tongue, sliding his hand from its place on your back to wrap around your middle. he spreads a big palm over your tummy before dragging you backwards, your backside pressing against his front.

"mmm..." he scrunches his nose a little, running a pink tongue over his teeth. "look fuckin' beautiful."

you giggle, looking away, spreading your palms along your cheeks to try and make it less hot, less warm--fuck, it's so hot, isn't it?

you pull away to go for your shoes, picking them up from the closet. you take a seat on the bed, trying to ignore simon's stare (impossible), and you put the shoes down to slip your feet into them. just as you bend to buckle them, simon tsks, and you sit up as he kneels down in front of you.

"simon, you--"

"shut it," he mutters, reaching down and picking your foot up by the ankle gently. he wraps the strap around it, fastening the buckle, and you open your mouth to say something, but then he bends, giving your knee a soft kiss before reaching for your other foot.

your eyes meet again as he wraps it around your ankle. he smirks, just enough, and your lip wobbles a little as he fastens the next shoe before setting it back down on the floor. he puts his hands on his knee to get up, standing to his full height, and your neck strains as you try and look up at him.

at times, you feel at odds. he anticipates your needs before you even know what they are yourself. he pushes your meals in front of you just as you realize you're hungry. he helps you to the top shelf whenever you need it, picking you up from your waist without even a grunt. he feeds the cat when she cries, he wipes the tears from your face just as they fall.

you want to be more. you want to be his wife. your life is leisure and warmth, you are cared for like a fine porcelain doll, but what are you to him? what do you do for him? what is it that you bring, why are you here, why did he ever even want you if he provides and all you do is take, take, take?

the pub is alive. the lights flicker and glow a warm orange, and there's many crowds around tables, cheering and laughing and clinking pints together. you swallow as you look around; a crowded place with lots of unfamiliar faces. you freeze at the door, blinking, trying to take it all in. just as you stiffen, there's a presence right at your back.

an arm circles around your middle protectively. simon's warm hand rests at the curve of your waist, and you look up at him. he stares down at you knowingly. he's wearing his mask, obscuring his entire face except for his eyes, but you've learned to read him all the same. his hood darkens the shadows over him, but you see what he's telling you easily.

'm right 'ere.

simon moves you in front of him, walking just behind you, and he leans over to murmur in your ear as he guides you forward.

"in the corner, luv."

you barely have time to register that your husband just called you love when you see an enthusiastic wave meant for you out of the corner of your eye.

simon showed you their pictures, but the grainy selfies from his phone don't do them any justice. kyle has a pearly smile and round cheeks (troublemaker, he could get away with anything with those eyes). johnny has an infectious grin and wild curls that fall in a line down his head (a wild card, he's got eyes that you can't read and a leg bouncing from his terrible inability to sit still). and then there's john, hidden under a beanie and a rough smile (all business, all thought, because even out here, he can't stop his mind from wandering back to the papers on his desk and the cries for help he can't ignore).

johnny's smile drops a little when you come near. he eyes the hand that simon has on you, the proximity of your bodies. he raises a brow when you hold out your hand to shake, gawking when he eyes your other hand, the ring that sparkles there.

"ach, LT..." johnny swallows hard. "is this...is she--?"

simon clears his throat. "this is my wife."

"steamin' jesus," johnny breathes, leaning back in the booth. he picks up his drink and knocks back the entire thing, choking a little as he looks between the two of you. "what the fawk?!"

you blink, stepping back, and simon takes a seat beside john, shaking his head.

"fuckin' hell, johnny. behave," simon mutters. "'s not--"

"ye said y'were showin' us yer new lass," johnny quips. "not yer wife!"

you look at simon, laughing a little.

"simon, you didn't tell them you were married?"

"tha' was need t'know," simon mutters, rolling his eyes. you giggle, looking around for somewhere to sit. simon doesn't give you much time to choose--you let out a shaky breath as he picks you up from your hips, sliding you up and onto his thigh. he spreads his legs a little to accommodate you, but he's such a big man.

simon holds one hand at your back, and the other lays flat against the table. it's easy, falling into conversation with them. they don't talk about work. they're infatuated with their lieutenant and his surprise wife. they ask if he owns pajamas. they ask if he takes the mask off to sleep. they ask if simon whittles, if he listens to music, if there's a snack that puts him in a good mood (jaffa cakes, you tell johnny, who cackles with delight).

when simon gets up to have a smoke, you're surprised. simon never leaves you alone in a public place, ever. he's always at your back, even at the grocery store. he likes to take you aisle by aisle, and he doesn't care if it makes the trip longer, because he doesn't like to have you out of his sight for very long.

he gives you that look, one that you can read. you're safe with these men.

you agree. they bring simon home, every single time.

"awwww, no' gonna give yer lass a smooch, LT?" johnny winks. "'s alright, we don't care. won't think ye a big softie cuz o' it."

simon rolls his eyes, pocketing his cigarettes as he stands by the table. he dips his fingers into johnny's pint and flicks him with it before leaning over and kissing you lightly through the mask, a chaste kiss that already leaves you reeling.

you blink, caught off guard, and you blink up at simon so slowly, a syrupy smile falling over your face.

"LT, that wasnae a real one," johnny rolls his eyes. "wut, are ye scared of us?"

"shut your fuckin' mouth, sergeant, i'll make y'do laps tomorrow."

"big baby."

you watch simon take the back door, letting it swing shut behind him. you excuse yourself, following after him, pushing the door open and blinking to adjust to the dark light of the alleyway.

there's stars out. they sparkle, and you pause to stare up at them for just a moment before making your way to where simon leans against a brick wall.

it all reminds you that you're just small. not small, but smaller than simon, and compared to what stares at you across a violet sky, you are nothing but specks in time. you're drifters, composites of organic matter that somehow, for some reason, exist at the same time.

simon's eyes find your own in the dark. it's hard to see; the only light nearby flickers, and it's hard to focus, but you can see his eyes clearly, magnetized even when the rest of him seems so obscure, hiding from your view.

your smile is clear, too. the watery lines of your eyes, they glow, and when you come near, you and simon are in your own bubble, a pocket of the universe that cannot be explained. he has found you, and you have found him, and even when the night sky tries so hard to hide the things you know are there, it isn't strong enough to take away what exists in the in-between.

you slide your fingers under the hem of his mask. this kind of thing is practiced. the same thing you do when he comes home every day. the only acts of service he ever allows, the only things he ever lets you do.

you ask yourself always what it is that you provide. what it is that he sees in you that you can't seem to see in yourself.

maybe it's this. maybe it's the grounding. the gravity he never used to feel, the orbit he could never quite get himself to maintain, the taut line of connection that's been severed ever since the only people he's ever loved were ripped right out from underneath his ribs.

he puts his hands over yours when the mask is over his nose. his palms over the backs of your hands, warm skin over soft, something broken over something seeking.

"you don't want this," simon whispers, and you frown a little, shaking your head.

"how...how can you say that?"

"i'm not..." he flinches a little. "not made for this. 's not wha' y'think."

you're eyes water. you aren't sad. you're upset.

"y-you have no idea," you whisper. "i know what i want. you can always tell when i'm lying, am i lying now?"

"'s not--"

"simon," you stop him. "look at me," you sniffle, and he closes his eyes, squeezes them shut, before finding your gaze again. it's frightening, what he sees. he sees nothing that he expects. no deception. no fear. the honesty, it terrifies him. the reality of accepting what he can't understand hurts inside. it trickles deep, down to his toes, along his spine, a curdling in his stomach that he can't believe because there's no way that someone can love me when i can't fucking love myself. "am i lying now?"

"no," he breathes, and your smile is sickly sweet. he doesn't understand. he doesn't get it. nothing in his life has ever been this easy. nothing in his life has ever been just for him, all for him, just his, and no one else's. there has never been a piece of life that has ever pitied him enough to let him have it exactly as it is, and yet here she is, my perfect girl, arriving on my doorstep.

like you dropped straight from heaven. angels with soft hands and a timid face and a shadow with soft fur and big eyes and terrible little temper.

simon's hand is an anchor on the back of your head. tilting you to the side, drawing you near, until you are on your toes, and your face is canted up.

you kiss in the dark. your mouth slots over his, hands gripping the front of his jacket as you try and get even closer to him. he's a little shy at first, letting you lead while he follows, but it only takes a few seconds for you to feel his hand stiffen against your head as he kisses you feverishly.

you smile between kisses. he smiles, too. you giggle, and he huffs, and he chases you with more kisses as you cradle his face between your hands and whisper between soft presses, i'm sorry and i know and it's all i've ever wanted.

when you pull away, he doesn't let you go. he presses your forehead to his, connecting you somehow, breathing in the warmth that you radiate to try and calm the pulsing of his blood that rushes in his ears.

when your eyes open again, and you look at each other, everything is suddenly clearer. whatever he saw before, everything must have been in black and white.

he sees in color. the stars align. they fall, one by one, sparkling as they form a pattern, one undiscovered by anyone before him, one he will keep all to himself in the time that follows. when he kisses you again, he memorizes that pattern.

he knows it will always lead right back to you.

[gutsby]

Just Peachy

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-a. Loss of anal virginity. Possessiveness. Semi-public sex. Cumplay. Spit as lube.

Word count: 3.2k

Joel was too old to get jealous.

Long before he ever reached fifty-one, the man had known who he was and what was his—and you were it.

He got a refresher each time he split you open and watched your soft, pliant hole form an even wider ‘o’ around his shaft, moans as profuse as the moisture leaking out of you. He took comfort in that. It wasn’t often he required a reminder with such immediacy as he’d needed it tonight: thrusting you headfirst into the bathroom at the Tipsy Bison with your hands pinned clumsily behind your back. You’d laughed when he did it.

“What’s up with you?” you’d murmured, eyes alight with amusement as you watched Joel yank his belt in two.

You would’ve liked to admire the shelf of hefty, salt-and-pepper speckled belly that was left on display by the loosening of the leather, the tugging of fabric away from his heated lower parts, but the moment was so fleeting. Joel hadn’t even bothered to respond before he was smoothing your dress over your hips, drawing in, and—

“Shit!”

You seized either side of the sink and let out a yelp loud enough to stir half the bar. Joel just grunted. Approving.

“‘Atta girl,” he said, burying himself inside your cunt.

Quick fucks were never Joel Miller’s métier, it was true. He much preferred the drawn-out bouts of lovemaking that had your knees and brains in a puddle of mush by the end of it. But now there was a will behind the weight of his thrusts, a calm and calculated fervor that sent each snap of his hips moving faster against your own. You knew there had to be a reason for such an outburst, feeling his hands singe your hips in a bruising grip, so you weren’t surprised in the slightest when you heard:

“That loser ever fuck you like this?”

You made an effort to meet Joel’s gaze in the mirror, but it was hard to keep it straight when his cock was sawing back and forth between your walls at a breakneck pace.

“W-W— Who?” you stammered, teeth gritting at the last.

“Dipshit in the Sigma Chi polo,” Joel returned gruffly.

You were in awe the man had seen you two at all, much less read the Greek letters and knew what they meant. You’d spent all of five minutes chatting it up with an ex whilst deliberating which Creed song to queue up on TouchTunes. There was no way he could’ve known.

Unless, of course…

“Tommy tell ya?” you said in a breath, grimace slowly morphing to a smirk as you clenched and held the sink.

Joel groaned but didn’t slow. He didn’t like that look. Perhaps by chance—but more likely on purpose—he drove his hips all the way in until the head of his cock kissed your cervix. Your nose almost hit the mirror.

“Fucker!” you hissed.

“Right?” Joel said, pretending to commiserate. Then, fighting back a grin as your own smile began to give way to a whimper, “Dude looked like a real fucker, for sure. Just hoped he never got the chance to do it to you.”

So that’s what this was all about—stated plain as day.

Joel was surprised he’d said it himself, but with the way your wet, messy cunt was pulling him in, he had to know.

It drove him insane to think one drop of that nectar had been meant for anyone else but him. He was, of course, too old to be concerned with anything resembling jealousy, but then again, you were you. And you were his. And, mature as your Joel tried to be, the thought of that shit-brained chump ramming his dick in and out of the softest, sweetest depths of your body had him contemplating violent crimes of every flavor.

“Did he?” Joel pressed again, a bit more stern this time.

You felt a hand thread through your hair to hold your face upright in front of the mirror. You stared and saw your mouth hanging slightly ajar, saliva pooling at the sides and threatening to spill with every stab of Joel’s cock.

You were surprised you could even speak at all when that cockdrunk pout made a low, slurred, ‘Di-id he what?’

“Did he fuck you here?”

Here? Like in the bar bathroom?

As if reading your mind and seeing you start to shake your head no, Joel stilled your motions with his hand and used the other for more leverage as he continued to drill.

“No, no, darlin’. I mean— he ever fuck this pretty hole?” And, as if to punctuate his question, Joel plunged his dick so far inside you that your face did tap the mirror; nowhere near hard enough to hurt, but enough to get your attention. And smear your lipgloss on the glass.

You reeled back and moaned. Felt a pit in your tummy.

Why drag it out? By the look in his eye, he already knew. You wouldn’t be sharing any earth-shattering secret now.

“Yes. Yes, I—” You sucked in a breath when you felt that pit become a pinch and in turn, cause your toes to curl, “—he fucked me.”

“Once? Twice?”

“Three t-times.”

To your surprise, you saw the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. Like he was pleased by what he’d heard.

“Oh yeah?” Joel hummed.

You whimpered in the affirmative and tried to nod, but it was hard to do with his fingers still tangled in your hair. Your walls involuntarily clenched around his cock, and you could’ve sworn you felt an influx of warmth follow after. If ‘apologetic cumslut’ had been the goal, you weren’t quite sure you were succeeding at anything but being the latter part. Joel seemed to notice as much.

“Did he cum inside and make a mess’a her, too?” he asked, teasing now as he took his thumb and started rubbing the slick flesh that was being stretched and stuffed full of his fat cock. His pace was slowing by turns.

Normally you could not stand the thought of a man policing your sexual history, but with Joel, it felt different. Like he wasn’t really making fun at all but simply poking and prodding around for the truth so he could get to someplace else. Still thumbing, gently.

“You let him fuck this cunt and stuff her full, pretty girl?”

You had no choice but to nod. His hips had lost nearly all their speed and were now making slow, shallow thrusts.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “I— I—”

—didn’t even know you then. Didn’t like the guy at all. Didn’t enjoy having him cum inside a fraction of the—

“I know, baby,” Joel interrupted you, still rubbing the rim of your cunt with feather-light touches, “‘S’okay, I know.”

You wanted to keen at how affectionate, warm, and soft he could be—amazed by the way he’d made that switch—when the force of Joel’s thrusts halted altogether. He leaned over your body to press a kiss to the side of your head, holding your gaze in the mirror. Grey stubble licked at your temple as his cock nestled deeper inside you, and the weight of his soft and muscled stomach pressed in.

His thumb moved too.

Sliding up to the taut ring of muscles above your full, aching pussy, Joel drew a slow ‘o’ and kissed you again.

“He ever fuck you here?” he asked.

Something fluttered in your stomach, and it sure as fuck wasn’t just butterflies. You stared at the man in disbelief.

You’d just begun to shake your head no when the tip of his thumb grazed the rim of your hole and sank inward. You choked on a gasp when you felt your ass pucker, and shit did Joel Miller look smug as he’d ever been when those too-tight-for-you muscles gave in and sucked in.

“What the— ah,” you hissed, slamming your palm flat on the mirror. You couldn’t see a thing besides Joel’s elbow jutting out, tanned bicep flexing with his ministrations, but you could feel his thumb swirl gently again. Inside.

“Anybody touch you here before, honey?” Joel said.

“Nuh-uh.”

Admittedly, you were a little unnerved, on the verge of being opposed to what this man was doing, when you felt the muscles snap back—Joel retracted his thumb—and two other digits hovered along the vulnerable spot. Just by chance, you caught a glimpse of what looked like Joel about to blow a kiss or whistle, and suddenly you sensed a wet glob of warmth on the small of your back.

Then sliding, gliding down to your crack and between your two cheeks with an obscene heat you would’ve never thought possible: Joel’s spit ran down to his hand, and his index and middle fingers started rubbing it in. Circling the hole and smearing it more for good measure, Joel grinned and placed a kiss atop your shoulder blade.

“Tell me it’s mine to fuck,” he mumbled.

“Joel—” you started.

A trail of kisses led up to the nape of your neck as the fingers pushed deeper. Joel’s touch was soft both ways.

“Only mine,” he tried again, and the request was implicit.

You clenched around his fingers and his cock, feeling the former slide back and forth with near-astonishing ease. You would be lying if you said the sensation, paired with the blunt, wily lilt to his words didn’t make your legs much weaker than they were before. No, it wasn’t just the matter of it being a first for you but a first and only for you both—Joel claiming a space where no man had ever fucked you and making it his own, filling you whole.

Joel spit again, and you hated that you’d come to crave the sound, but the obscene squelch of his saliva mixing in with your arousal as he worked his fingers in and out of your ass was like music to your ears. You whimpered and found yourself nodding quickly, half-embarrassed, saying it’s yours Joel, all of this is yours to fuck and fill.

You never had been one to tell the man no. Whether it was his head between your legs at the most inopportune of times, a blowjob behind the bar, or a lightning-fast quickie in the drive thru line, you were always down. And Joel was wholly enamored with the idea he could have you anywhere he liked—now in any hole he wanted, too. You could see the fuckdrunk look in his eyes as his digits pushed in and his cock dragged out of your cunt, leaving you empty in one and getting spread for him in the other.

Joel’s lips were glistening with spit and the world’s biggest grin as he caught your eye in the mirror. Then he leaned in closer, pressed a kiss to your temple again, and kept his mouth beside your ear as he whispered:

“I’ll be gentle, honey, I promise.”

You were each a trembling mess of hormones, lust, and bottom-shelf spirits, and you definitely shouldn’t have been trying anal for the very first time in Tommy’s bar. But your pussy and ass were drenched, Joel’s fingers had pulled out and made way for just the tip of his cock to notch into that space between your cheeks, and both your minds were delirious with the idea of doing a thing so taboo and new. Full primal desire took over, and before you could think twice about what it was you were doing, Joel was squeezing your hips and pushing in.

What felt like a full fucking thrust of him was really just an inch. Your hand clawed at the towel rack on the wall and seized the bar tight as a burn shortly, swiftly took root between your legs and forced a whimper from your throat. Joel swallowed a groan and kissed your neck.

“Need it slower?” he said as soon as he saw you wince.

Stinging and stretched as you were with just the tip, the filthy urge to have him further inside was too great. Against your body’s best interest and the ache in your core, you wiggled your hips and nudged more of him in.

Joel’s kiss turned to teeth in your skin, and he cursed.

“Fuck that’s so tight,” he said, words more like a growl, “Suckin’ me in so good, baby.”

You beamed with the most sick and lascivious sense of pride and pushed your ass back again. You heard the squelch, felt the reflexive pulse of your muscles struggle to take more in, but the burn that followed this time was eclipsed by the pleasure you felt in seeing Joel’s face.

Feeling him grip you tighter, watching that expression move from bliss to guilt to ‘Sweet pea, you sure it’s OK?’ to bliss once again when you braced your weight against the sink and started moving your ass gently in time with your breaths. Then that tender brown gaze fell to the space between your body and his, and Joel just watched you fuck him, groaning each time your hole stretched.

There wasn’t a thought in his mind that wasn’t obscene. Practically monopolized by primal need, Joel Miller saw his cock glide back and forth inside you and seemed to be capable of conjuring no other thought than ‘mine.’

‘This sweet little peach is all for me, ain’t it, baby?’ Words as soft as velvet came tumbling off his lips, and he scarcely even knew he was talking, or grinning, or doing much of anything but fucking you and loving every second. The fingers of his left hand kneaded your hip while the ones on his right moved over your front. Thick, callused, and quickly soaked in your arousal, his middle finger made an easy trail to your clit and started rubbing.

You clamped your teeth tight in an effort to contain a cry. You whined into Joel’s touch, throat humming with that pathetic little sound as his groin sank deep to find the backs of your thighs and—finally—was inside you fully.

Words barely registered in your brain above the whir of your pulse in your ears, the pleasure unfurling from this strange new place, but Joel made sure you heard it when he leaned back in and murmured, ‘C’mon, baby, who’s this hole belong to, huh?’ as he tilted his hips up, body blanketing yours completely from behind. When you couldn’t contain the cry this time and your mouth fell open in a moan, he took that as his chance to slide his tongue inside and start to thrust, pinning you to the sink.

“You,” you whimpered feebly into his mouth. His tongue and the sounds of wet, sticky skin colliding over and over again all but drowned out what you were trying to say.

“What’s’at?” Joel returned, equally muffled but in far greater control of his words, it seemed, “This for him?”

“N-N-No, Joel.”

“Whose is it, then?”

You tried to answer ‘You’ again, but a shockwave of pleasure stole the air from your lungs, and you just whined in Joel’s mouth once more, head tilted limply to him as he shook your whole body with thrusts. You reached back to find a forearm, a hand, anything of his to anchor yourself, and you felt his fingers grip yours. Then he brought your hand and his up to the mirror, and he placed them flat on the glass—his big one overtop, dwarfing your own—and his hips picked up their speed.

Your lips parted just long enough to tilt your gaze ahead—Joel’s face and yours resting side-by-side in the mirror while he fucked you faster and deeper and grit his teeth.

“Use those words,” he seethed. Groaning when you clenched around him, nipping the cusp of your cheek.

If there was any doubt of what primal urges could do to a man like Joel, you were seeing it now. Feeling him stuff you full, pull back, and crash his hips into yours again and again while those sharp incisors took the tiniest, teasing, feral bites, it was like watching him come undone before he’d even cum inside you. His irises reduced to two minuscule rings around black, dilated pools; torso caging you in; breaths and groans and helpless moans commingled in a hot, plaintive medley.

Joel was too old to get jealous, and yet, he had never in his life wanted to hear the words that you were his and his alone more than he did right now, fucking you raw in a hole that had never been breached by anyone but him.

Your gaze remained on his in a sweet, near-innocent look—a staggering feat for someone getting their ass fucked bare in a dirty bar bathroom—and beneath his hand, he felt you squeeze his fingers. Your cunt fluttered too.

“It’s yours, Joel.”

The head of Joel’s cock took a nosedive to the furthest depths of you, as far as he could manage it, and he kept fucking you there, like he couldn’t bear to leave it.

“Say it again,” he said, voice hoarse. Pleading.

With what little strength you had, you laced your fingers with his on the mirror so he was holding your hand in a fist. Then you pressed your knuckles to the glass, squeezed as hard as your muscles would allow, and met his thrusts gently, keeping your eyes on him all the while.

“I’m all yours,” you returned—and when the hulking man with his grey, sweat-dampened hair and dark eyes and arms locked tight around your frame let out a whimper, you knew you’d said exactly what Joel needed to hear.

His hips canted wildly, quietly into your own, those tough and stubbled lips releasing sounds like you’d never heard before; never even thought possible for a man his size and stature with such a replete desire for dominance. This Joel was needy, panting in your ear while nudging his nose to the shell of it, ‘Baby, please keep fucking me, please, just, fuck—’ and seizing your hand, your waist, whatever flesh he could find while his cock pummeled a desperate and frenzied pace inside you. And, as much as you wished that glimpse of him would last, it was also what sent you both over the edge in the seconds right after. Your toes curled into cool checkered tile, Joel’s hand made an even tighter fist, and together, you trembled and cursed and groaned through your highs like it was the first you’d ever felt. In a way, it was.

As new to you as it was to him, that feeling pulsed and throbbed between your bodies in a shockwave of pure satiety. It left you breathless. Boneless. Slumping inward and into each other, at length, until your full weight was pressed onto that porcelain sink, and you were sure the force would tear the fixture off the wall at any second.

Fortunately, it didn’t budge.

Joel leaned even further into you and exhaled.

Evidently, the sink beneath you was the furthest thing from his mind, and all he could do was keep fucking his cum deeper while the spray of his spend was still fresh on your walls. Gently, but with intent, he drove his cock back and forth. He felt a drop or two trickle out of your wet, stretched hole and groaned, then kissed your neck.

Still in awe of what had just happened. What you’d said. Trying hard not to grin too big when he felt your walls clench around him, and you let out a low, shaky sigh.

“Feelin’ okay, baby?”

You smiled back.

“Just peachy.”

[aespabangedbang]

🥴HENTAI SELLE🤪(Remake)

Writer's Note: A remake of the very first smut I wrote for my old account. Its better and well executed than old one.

Tags: (FULL CON) Consensual Hardcore, Arranged Fuck, Anal, Creampied, Bloods and Bleeding, Gangbang, Degrading, Slutty and few more heavy stuff.

Warning: (18+) Don't ask for morality, it's like any other smut stories.

Word Count: 2K words.

Ohhh ah ahh Oh ah Ohh Oh ah Ohh ah oh ah

Moaning so satisfyingly caressing my cock with her pussy is none other than that one idol they call THE HOT GIRL. You got it right, it's Giselle the booty queen of Kpop. I am pounding her pussy from behind, she is leaning on the counter in the makeup room. She still got her torso modesty covered, but everything under her waist is slumped on the floor. Me, one of the music show crew, was picked by miss hot girl before her stage, now summoned and ordered to fuck her. Of course, I didn't say no to an idol pussy!

Her Ahegao face in the mirror is a surprise for me. She is looking at the mirror lewdly, with every thrust she is moaning loudly while her eyes are turning upward, tongue lolling out. Just like those hentai girls, this made in Japan idol should have become a Gravure idol instead. She nailed that cartoonish expression perfectly, only missing the JAV videos. Should I film it?

She has turned her meaty ass into a piece of art, so much muscle but not tight at all. Instead like a bouncy cushion, every time I pound her I get hugged by her hot ass and rejuvenating elasticity. All the hours she has spent in the gym shaping her booty have worked out well, I am having the best time of my life. Satisfying meat slapping meat sound.

“Harder, faster. Spank my bad ass bloody!” She wiggles her butt few times, her lustful voice seduces me so badly that I don't hold back. I lift my hand as high as I can and bring down a thunderous slap with all my power that echoes around the chamber and almost blocks our ears. AAHHHHHH she screams loudly in pleasure, my slap has left a visible red print in her right cheek.

“M-More, more p-please!” She begs while moving her hips fucking herself to make me fuck her faster. “A-Are you sure?” I ask while my cock is getting milked by her tight pussy. She brings one hand behind and smacks her ass herself, that's a yes. So I start to slap and fuck her faster and harder, leaving hand prints over and over again until her ass become tomato red, tender as kebab meat. Surely it would taste delicious if you could cook that meaty booty on fire, cutting it into small skewers.

With every slap her pussy constantly clenches around my cock, almost biting it off. Under such intense sensation I can't hold on much longer. My hands go for her boobs, I claw her soft mounds and pull her towards me. She looks back over her shoulder, eyes full of pleasure. Her back arched completely, her body is supported by my fondling hand.

I start to give her some powerful thrust reaching her cervix and soon her cum starts gushing out, wetting my thighs and balls for the 2nd time in the last 30 min. It sends me over edge, I start cumming straight into her womb, ropes after ropes of my baby maker flooding her pouch. If she is ovulating now then this is making her pregnant for sure.

Both of our knees go weak and we go to the ground, gasping for breath. A faint muffled scream comes from the next makeup room; it's Karina getting gang banged by the other crews of our team. She is such a bad bitch, unless she is stuffed in all three holes at once she can't cum at all. So my colleagues are busy satisfying her whoreness, gang banging her until she loses her sense. She doesn’t stop until she gets fucked like a abused slut. She has the most fuckers lusting for her holes so it's easy for her to do.

Giselle in front of me isn't bad either. Her creampied pussy is leaking my cum and making a pool on the floor. She takes her clothes and bra off, now her perky boobs are on full glorified display. She looks at me with her needy eyes, her heaving chest looking surprisingly delicious. She cups her boobs with both hands, squeezing and pointing me to go and suck them. No way I am objecting such offer.

I go and immediately latch onto the left nipple with her entire areola, suckling like a hungry baby who didn't drink milk for 2 days. Other hand busy kneeding her right boobs like a freaking pizza dough, too hard to earn a painful moan from her. I keep altering between sucking and kneading both of her boobs while her rap like painful moaning keep me on edge. Her right hand behind my head, keeping me pressed on her boobs. Her right hand busy rubbing her clit and fingering her pussy, this bitch is completely lost in pleasure.

After around 5 min of sucking and fingering, her body jolted again, squirting all over me. I pull her on my lap, hug her firmly to give her convulsing body support. On the other hand I'm busy fingering her pussy so she can ride the climax out. Her hips keep bucking up while she keeps whimpering from sensory overload. I only stop once her fountain is all drained, gasping for air. I put my wet hands inside her mouth, making her taste both her and my cum. She sucks it clean, her eyes asking me for more.

“Do you want to continue?” She asks with a lustrous voice. “Aren’t you tired? You have cummed three times already.” I asked with surprise. “No, I can keep going for hours. You know, CAUSE I AM HELLA SEXY!” The moment she ends pouring poison in my ears, her lips lock mine. Her tongue darting out sharing our combined cum like a delicacy. I respond back, grabbing her head with both hands and kissing her dirt mouth like there is no tomorrow. My dick is rock hard again, poking her belly. She grab my dick and balls with both hand, messaging my arousal back like I didn't fuck her for nearly an hour.

When satisfied she moves her head back, face flushed red and tongue lolling out like a dog. She gets down from my lap and lie on her back. She looks at me with her fuck me eye spreading her legs, revealing her glistening pussy and asshole wet from our lovemaking. She pull apart her anal muscle while clenching it like it's breathing, inviting to sodomize her.

Karina’s inhuman scream comes from the next door,”AHHHHHHHHH More, fuck me, breed me, break me in half daddies AUGH AHHHHHHH!” They are using her like little cheap fuck doll. “Crazy, we don't have lube for that. You will bleed” I warn Giselle. She replies, “Don’t worry, aespa loves it bloody and raw!” Like a possessed I don't wait for anything and jump on her. I put my dick at the entrance of her ass and thrust in, I enter an inch and get stuck. Her meaty booty is so tight!

Again and again I keep drilling in her raw asshole gaining half an inch every thrust. I am sodomizing the best ass of kpop with an agonizingly pleasurable way. She is screaming silently with a gaped mouth, her hands clawing mine that are busy balancing me grabbing her boobs. When I enter all the way in, I pull back until my tip is inside. Then I slam back all the way in.

AHHHGUHHAARGG FUCG UUCK FUCK

She cries out loud chanting fuck nonstop as I am destroying her anus wide and her rectum skin tattered with dry friction. Soon enough my dick is covered with her blood while I am keeping my speed despite my hip aching and her ass bleeding. “D-Don't stop, m-make m-me a bloody m-mess!” She says whimpering once again. I oblige like a good fucker, my hands goes for her mouth leaving her boobs as her fuck chant is distracting.

Mmph mph maphm mm mmph mphm mhp

Her eyes are turning upward with every thrust, like that hentai expression from before. I let her mouth go, her tongue comes out lolling. Her boobs are bouncing around, her ass hole clenching around me.

Aaah aah ah aaah aaaaaah ah ah ahhh ah

My dick is now sliding easily as her holes have gotten lose and blood is acting like lube. I spit on her open mouth and face. I can't stop the urge to disgrace her further. She doesn't mind, her ahegao face shows the masochist pleasure she has drunk herself in. Eventually she stops making any sound, I look at her face and her eyes have completely gone white, tongue still out. She has lost sense from overwhelming pleasure and pain.

I have sodomized the best Kpop booty bloody and senseless with her consent, for free. If this is not the greatest achievement in my life then what is! This realization kicks me over the edge as my balls clench and I cum for the 2nd time, bloodpie her ass. I pull out, our combined bloody pink fluid making its way out of her gaped asshole, literally bloodpied her booty.

It would be unwise to fuck her senseless body, I don't want to do it without consent. But my dick is bloody and it is customery to clean the cock sucking it. Her lolling tongue and gaped mouth is too inviting to resist. So I put my dick in her mouthpussy and use her head like a fleshlight for good five minutes before cumming one more time, giving her a good taste of her ass, blood and my healthy cum. Though my seed have thinned out, but still it would be tasty for her. “CAUSE SHE IS HELLA SEXY!”

I mouth her famous line while dressing myself, her naked body lying on floor. I step outside the room, their manager was waiting outside. “Is she satisfied?” “Ah-h yeah, I did as she asked for. Though I think I did it a little too much, she is senseless now. And bleeding a little…….” “That's not an issue. They love it senseless….... and bloody.” He smirks and open the next door for me to get a peek.

It's like a scene out of a butcher shop. Karina sprawled on floor, all of her holes and body filled with cum. Her pussy and ass are bleeding, she is senseless too. Her head sideways, vomit have made their way out and pooled on floor. I can see her peeing herself, her pelvic muscle have given up. What a nasty idol she is!

Ningning is tied like a small gift box, her fucked and creampied body is on the makeup counter. They used her like that, a toy and left. There is a ball gag in her mouth, that is why I didn't hear her scream. Her eyes upturned too, foaming around her gags. Did she let them do all of these with consent? Crazy bitch!

Winter is sitting leaning against the wall in a corner, her tiny belly is bulged like a preggo. They used markers and have written all sorts of things on her body. Cumdump, onahole, pissdrunk, bitchjeong and whatnot. They used her mouth like a urinal and left her there. Her eyes half open, a satisfied smile on her face. Consent to be a urinal is just.....

“They wanted to let off some steam, so we arranged it so they can enjoy after the promotion for this comeback. Thanks for your service!” “It was my pleasure, kekeke!” I reply and turn back.

“I hope you will come when we call you next time.” “For real? Anytime!” No way I got invited for another fuck. Yahoo!

The End 🖕

Notice: Haters made two of my account banned. But they can't stop a dedicated aespa smut writer. I hade 750 followers, I want you to hop back my train. Stay safe, stay horny!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Do they or do they not bite back? (Spoiler: they all do cuz I say so)

Xavier: this sweetheart may look like they an innocent angle, but this little fucker can be a feral little freak.

Looks can be deceiving and Xavier will walk away with lesser bite marks, meanwhile you’re covered in them from head to toe, absolutely no room left as your skin had plentiful of impressions of his teeth from the neck down. No one expects that Xavier is the one to do it and he takes advantage of that however he could, even if that means littering your skin in bite makes a plenty.

He’s got a sweet face but you’re more than familiar with his other side, in a much more intimate sense than others if you catch my drift.

Sylus: he bites you in places that are clearly visible for no other reason than to watch how hard you try to cover them up in the bathroom mirror. The bastard is smirking to the high heavens at his work and you’re worried that your friends will think you’ve been bitten by a vampire or something.

Luke and Kieran don’t help make the situation better either as they pester you about how you got those marks, even though one quick glance over at Sylus will give them enough of an answer, that and your flustered face and aversion of the question was enough to quell their curiosity.

Rafayel: bites back out of sheer pettiness to the point it becomes a war on who can bite the other the most.

You both come out of it looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards before getting into a fight with a honey badger or something. You both look about as bad as the other but nobody has the heart to ask either of you what the fuck happened between the two of you. They didn’t need to ask while their minded wandered to…filthier aspects to say the least.

Zayne: bites in hidden places that only he knows and you know are there.

It’s not many bites but it’s enough to get the point across, even if the only people who know are yourself and Zayne. He has a knowing glint in his eyes whenever you cross his path that makes the bite makes seem to burn in remembrance in your mind, just as you subconsciously try to hide them regardless of them already being well hidden. It felt as though that even though they were hidden, Zayne still made you feel as though they were on full display for all to see but when really it was just for him.

He didn’t have to say much, not that he needed to say anything at all.

[innerfare]

Smutty Mihawk Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Mihawk headcanons

Genre: pure smut (afab!reader)

CW: a little bit of knife play (cutting clothes not skin), dirty talk, low-key masochist Mihawk, exhibitionism on the down low

———

Bisexual icon.

King of sexual tension.

Marine hunter? More like marine fucker. 

Is eternally bored, but has a keen interest in lingerie, and he rather likes cutting it off you. He never thought he would enjoy drawing a knife or sword during sex, but he finds the trust you put in him invigorating. 

A very passionate lover. His insistence on being the best carries over into the bedroom. As such, he’s no fan of quickies. He wants you tied up in his four poster bed, the curtains pulled back to allow moonlight to filter in from the balcony, your naked body sprawled across his silk sheets until the sun rises. 

Talks dirty but getting a moan out of this man is like pulling teeth. Also won’t tell you if you’ve pleased him. Your only indication is that he comes back for more. 

Of course, if you do want to get a moan out of him, the best way is to hurt him. Likes if you rake your nails up and down his back, yank his hair, bite him (especially the spot between his thumb and index finger after sucking his fingers), squeeze his face in your hands, maybe even slap him.

And then there's his bondage kink. If you tie him up, it better be to whip him. He'll start out goading you in that bored tone of his, accusing you of half-assing it, telling you to hit him harder. You know you've gotten to him when the comments cease and he bites his lip, his brow furrowing.

Doesn’t just fuck. He spars. 

Saying it again, cannot emphasize this enough, he loves a biter.  

Wants a partner who wants to be chased, as most people either throw themselves at his feet or run away with no hope of being caught. Will chase you down the halls of his castle and ravage you wherever he catches you. Poor Perona has a list of sofas she no longer sits on, counters she refuses to put food on, and entire staircases she avoids. There are even certain mirrors she doesn’t want to look in, even if the marks have been wiped away. Zoro doesn’t fully believe her when she gives him the rundown, thinking nobody can be that feral, particularly not his stoic teacher, who in his mind is the picture of restraint and civility, until he’s training by himself one day in the courtyard and happens to see you appear in one of the towers, only for Mihawk to appear after you and rather lewd sounds to follow. Also sees Mihawk fucking you hard in a window one time, and over a balcony another time. Zoro quickly learns not to enter the wine cellar between the hours of six and ten PM. 

Lives for dangerous sexual situations. Has fucked you in the woods at night despite the menagerie of dangerous beasts running around, has fucked you from behind in an open window several stories high, your front half hanging out, has even fucked you in his small boat on stormy, raging seas. Every duel he has ever enjoyed has been charged with sexual tension.

In addition to these trysts, he wants you in his bed every night after dinner. You either shower or bathe together, and then he works you into a sweat so you need another one.  

Worries deeply if you ever reject his advances, thinks it must be his fault. “Have I displeased you in some way? Tell me, my love, and I will make it right.” It’s times like this that any veneer of disinterest falls away and you see just how much he cares for you. 

Has certain pet names reserved for the bedroom. “My mewling kitten,” is his current favorite. 

Always does that thing where he strokes your temple with his thumb when he fucks you in missionary. It’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture when you’re struggling to take all of him, but it riles you up more than it calms you down. Uses his other hand to pull one of your legs up as far as it will go, so he’s pinning you down but comforting you about it. 

Loves to feel you up in the bath.

If he has more than one glass of wine, he will be going down on you. The more wine he has, the bigger his appetite for you. It gets worse with stronger liquor. When the Red Hair pirates come to stay and Shanks insists on breaking into the whiskey Mihawk keeps for that very occasion, you know you won’t be sleeping until they leave (and that Shanks will be going down on you, too). 

His favorite is to go down on you on his dining table. It makes you feel very exposed considering he strips you down but remains clothed (as is common with Mihawk when he's domming) and the dining room is very large with many doors that anyone could walk through. But that's what Mihawk enjoys about it.

If you go down on him, his hands will most certainly be in your hair. He loves smoothing your hair, and if it’s long, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail to get the best possible view of your pretty face. 

Once moaned Shanks’ name in bed. Neither of you ever addressed it, but you do always flirt with Shanks when he and his crew come around because it seems to peak your lover’s interest. You haven’t proposed a threesome because you don’t want to share him with the Red-Haired drunk. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[sincerelyverena]

can you do ollie watching felix and reader in the bathtub plss

this was so fun to write! i absolutely adored exploring a more submissive oliver in this one. thank u for the request my lovely anon. <3

⟡⁺ SALTWATER

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FELIX CATTON X FEM!READER ‘i'm your biggest fan, i'll follow you until you love me.’ @watercolorskyy

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒oliver witnessed his most secret fantasies play out before him.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒smut ﹐dom!felix﹐oliver being a creepy little fucker ﹐felix giving princess treatment﹐reader and felix are an established pairing ﹐oh felix! you little tease!﹐felix taking control ﹐voyeurism﹐non-consential voyeurism ﹐waterplay﹐rubber duck rubber fuck﹐masturbation ﹐pet names ﹐praise﹐bite-sized oneshot

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @sparklehani ﹐@vikwrites

They always said an open door is an invitation.

What was remaining of Oliver’s good-willed conscience advised him to turn back. He turned a blind eye to the nagging voice polluting the crevices of his scalp. Alas, the musters of benevolence tumble into an attuned silence at the scene poured to life before him.

The vivid imagination from the deepest crevices of Oliver’s fantasies played out before the widening of his aquamarine irises.

You. Perched atop the broadened boundaries of Felix’s lap. The length of your legs propped on either side of his awfully prominent hips. A sight alone caused the fabric of Oliver’s lower nightwear to tighten, which caused the bridge of his throat to constrict with halted breath.

As if a single movement out of place would disturb such intimacy.

The extent of Oliver’s arm extended upward, hand grappled around the ridge of the rippled doorway. Fingers twisting, pouring the molten heat pooled behind his abdomen throughout the strain of his ever-so-whitening knuckles.

A soft moan sounded throughout the otherwise quiet air.

An even softer gasp accompanies the seemingly murmured noise. “Felix…”

Oliver’s eyes offered a singular flutter. The firmament blue hardened into an avid mirror of lust as he witnessed the scene playing out before his very presence. 

The depths of Felix’s girth are illustrated beneath your weeping cunt. Oliver had to refrain from any variation of a choked noise to escape the hollow of his throat at the depiction. The flimsy material of the garments hung by his hips seemed to be on the verge of snapping altogether in the hue of your strangled pleas as Felix teased your slit.

“Did my baby forget how to use her words?” Felix’s prodding words drawled onward, lazily at that. Each syllable bounced off of the bathroom’s sleazy walls and reverberated into the crook of Oliver’s ears. 

His left arm immersed itself in the translucent water pooling around the pair. The other extended toward yourself, the adequate length of his fingers combed throughout the dampness of your locks. Teasing each hair strand before the edges of his digits rim along your scalp.

Felix’s water-submerged hand crept toward the space sandwiched between the roll of your back and the soft fat of your thighs. His palm pressed deeply into your asscheeks, squeezed into it. You yelped.

“What d’ya want, princess?”

The tip of his girth continued to strain against you purposefully. “Felix, don’ make me beg…”

The hand that once cradled the side of your head retreated from the wetness of your hair. Broadened fingers pull around the dew-dusted surface of your jaw, stubby nails dug into whatever face fat you possessed. You moaned around his hands, the sound muffled by the pure pressure his hand possessed.

Your moans turned into pleas. “Fi, baby– I… need you in me.”

“Say please.” 

“Please..”

Oliver thought for a moment he’d release in his pants then and there.

As Felix began to ease himself into you, the bridge of Oliver’s hand wordlessly slipped into the fabric adorning his hips. Fingers itching to ease the throbbing strain of his groin, already slick with thin pre-cum. The ridge of your back arched with strangled breath as Felix’s girth disappeared into you completely.

Palms pressed toward his neck, and you choked back a whimper. The sturdiness of Felix’s hips began to shift toward you lazily. His thrusts were comparable to rolls as his girth massaged the tightness of your inner walls. You found yourself grinding desperately against him, the friction coursing speckles of pleasure to ignite within you.

As the snaps of Felix’s length gradually intensify, so does the work of Oliver’s palm. His eyes practically glazed over as he witnessed before him the writhing sensualness that occurred. If Oliver didn’t know his proper place, he’d be a whining mess as you were now.

“My beautiful girl, you’re doin’ so well.” 

Felix praised in between strained breaths. The base of his hand slipped from your dew-graced shoulders toward the roll of your hips. He bathed in the little noise that escaped the depths of your throat as he plunged himself deeper into you.

Oliver’s cock convulsed. Reams of pleasure built at the base of his spine.

You were similarly nearing the edge. Had given in ages ago to Felix’s timing rather than yours. Gone were the desperate writhing of your wetness. Replaced solely by the erratic pace your lover had built into you. 

“Fi, I’m… almost there.”

“I dunno, you feel too good ‘round me sweetheart.” Felix teased, a humorous tone alighting the drawl of his words. He pumped into you a tad hoarser for exaggeration. Upturned lips in the fashion in which you clung yourself upon him. A silent plea to go deeper. 

Oliver almost slipped a breathless curse from the hitched nature of his breath. His girth is hot in the base of his hands, dripping pure need between his fingers. The fact that he was as desperate as you are to release almost made him combust.

“On one condition.” Felix prompted at last.

“Anything.”

He continued to drive himself deeper into you. The hand Felix adorned upon your hips tightened with each word that escaped the lushness of his lips. He grunted with effort, yet kept an easygoing hue in his voice as he continued. 

“The only word I want to hear on your lips when you cum is my name.”

The renowned heir deep inside you now refused to await a proper response. Instead, the work of his hips tightened into a merciless tempo. Striking ass as he plunged into you over and over again. Prying out noises of pleasure you never knew were possible, all while singing his name with praise. 

Just as he ordered.

The pleasure that conquered the base of your torso intensified, just as Oliver, whose fingers grew warm with the strength he poured into his arm movements. He surveyed you, comparable to a hawk as he caught onto the scattered hints of your soon-to-be release. How Oliver only wished deeply to be inside of you as Felix is now, to have the opportunity to feel your tightness. He squeezed the entire wrap of his fingers around his length.

“Felix, Felix, Felix…”

You whispered his name like a prayer. Like a mantra. A mantra as you grew hot with a desire to peak, that peak approaching rapidly. The basis of your vision shifts rapidly with the pure intensity of the ecstasy that plunged into you. Oliver soon grew to repeat these mantras to himself, choking back physical moans as his digits pathetically rolled along the tip of his girth.

Felix’s release was growing closer, although he didn’t make it obvious. He never did. He just peered downward at you with a lazy drawl of a smile, soaking up the view of you sprawled out for him. Chanting his name. He reached downward into the lukewarm waters, the tip of his two fingers brushing against the pearl that lined your drenched entrance.

“I need you to cum for me. Can you do that?” Felix inquired aloud, a hint of childish glee audible in his voice. The pounding his girth offered to you never faltered the slightest in the meantime, an awe-aspiring – yet not surprising – sentiment he possessed.

In response to his words, you could only nod. Too overtaken with ecstasy.

Oliver, on the other hand, bored his eyes into Felix longingly. “Yes, yes, please.” His words too mustered to be heard over the fucking pounds of flesh and skin. It felt good to say. To good as his length pulsated in between his grip.

“Such a good girl.” Felix hummed his praises. The fingers that fidgeted with your clit fell back, pinching the bud instead. The motion is enough to pull you over the edge entirely. 

You snapped. Coming undone underneath his relentless jackings. The tide had broken, and the pleasure you had been chasing for minutes now had broken into you entirely. Felix. Felix. Felix. All you could vocalise. He was your beginning, your end. Your everything.

But the core of your fantasies. The middle. He stood blanketed in the shadows, relying on the small gap between the door and frame. His back arched with effort as he reached his peak. Oliver’s fingers squeezed around the doorway in an attempt to choke back any musters of his presence. White-hot pleasure seared through him, cock convulsing entirely as the centre of his boxers grew warm with the force of his seed. He could see stars. Hell, Oliver was convinced he could’ve taken a glimpse of the Earth’s secrets entirely with the force of his orgasm.

He came back down to reality with a single sentiment that overlooked the pure euphoria he had received. Oliver watched onward for a few extended seconds as Felix followed in his peak, and you slumped into him. Unaware of his presence, unaware of his thirst for the both of you.

You had never known the love he possessed for you.

You had never even suspected the fact Oliver would kill to submit to the two of you entirely.

Up until now, at least.

WORD COUNT: 1K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

summary: In a town divided between two rival street racing crews, you’re caught between your cousin’s crew, the Sinners and Jenna, a mysterious girl from the Vipers who’s more than just a pretty face. Both of you need something from each other, but as the stakes rise, you’re left wondering: what makes your heart race more— the thrill of the competition or the girl who’s impossible to ignore?

word count: 6.7k

A very special thank you to @ortegalvr for giving me the very much needed nudge to start moving my work to Tumblr. And to @cobaltperun for being so patient and thoroughly answering all my questions, essentially giving me (a Tumblr noob) a dummies guide to Tumblr. Appreciate you both!

————

Why is it that some of the best feel goods in life can just as easily kill you if you indulge in it too much?

Alcohol, drugs, illegal driving... love?

Fortunately for you, you only indulge in only one of those.

There's just something so satisfying about watching your car pick up speed; watching the little arm on the speed gauge reach it's full potential.  If cars are able to reach those speeds then they should, it's a fact of the matter.  And when you're surrounded by cars all your life and the only reason you have a livelihood is because of those three thousand pounds of steel, you're bound to make some fun out of it.

You push down on the accelerator with more pressure, reaching speeds of almost 180 km/hour when you see the flashing blue and red lights in the rear view mirror.

The feds.

"Took them longer than usual." you thought out loud.

Now there could be two reasons they're after you. The obvious, speeding.  But then there's also the fact that you stole the beauty you're driving from the town's richest neighbourhood, Summer Valley.

Of course stealing it is not enough for you, so you made some tweaks here and there in the garage so this ride could be even more illegal than it already is, and now you're selling it to an off the grid buyer.

Escaping the police wasn't something new, it's become routinely. You'd be more concerned if the cops weren't on your tail during a delivery.

You make a sharp turn right into a short alleyway marking the start of this high speed chase.

Being the exceptional mechanic that you are, your work on this car has given it a larger than usual turn radius which allowed the turn to be much smoother, giving you a good head start.

"Why are these fuckers in the middle of road!" You yelled panickily, upon seeing the herd of people in front of you.

You don't know when people decided to ditch the sidewalks and walk in the middle of the road, but clearly, you missed the memo.  You were forced to sound the horn a few times, and luckily the pedestrians were responsive and didn't cause you to lose your lead on the cop, but it may have alerted them—if you were lucky enough to lose them in the first place.

Once you finally got out of the alleyway, your phone started ringing, stealing your focus from the dark road in front of you to glance down at your phone for a millisecond.

Anton. Your cousin.

Anton Y/l/n. Your older cousin of three years. He was an impulsive firecracker that has the tendency to rope you into his shenanigans, not deliberately of course.  Despite his flaws he'd do anything for family. You like to joke around and call him Dom Toretto, and those jokes have only gotten worse after he buzzed his head after an unfortunate grease spillage accident that was entirely his and your fault.

That five letter name is the most anxiety inducing noun known to man in your books and everytime you answer the older guy's call, you feel as if your gambling your mental health.  He could either be calling to tell you about a huge car gig that he scored for you both or that he owes a million dollar debt.

You legit never know.

You groan and answer the call, putting it on speaker and tossing the phone to the passenger seat.

"What now?" you yell over the sounds of acceleration and police sirens.

"Come to Chester and Dan's lane." He says straight to the point, not questioning the noises he hears on your end of the phone. "After your delivery of course." At this point he's used to his little cousin getting chased down by the cops too.

"What's happening at Chester and Dan?" You ask looking at the side view mirror, squinting at the piercing blue and red flashes.

"Sinners are doing a couple rounds before the big race tomorrow. Join us, it'll be fun."

You sigh at your cousin's billionth attempt to get you acquainted with the Sinners. He's been trying ever since he first started as a general member of the club to now, the leader of the street race club.

"We'll see, I'm kind of in the middle of something," you shout over the sound of the tires screeching from a sharp turn you just made.

"Ugh! I'm not gullible like the other fucks in your life. Don't 'we'll see' me thinking it'll keep me satisfied and off your back for a while."

"I'm busy."

"Just step on the gas you pussy, going past two hundred won't kill you."

With a roll of your eyes, you think that you've entertained Anton's wishes enough and hung up the phone with the determination to lose the cops and deliver the 1969 Ford Mustang you're driving in one piece.

Twenty minutes later, a handful full of sharp turns later and momentarily stopping to let a group of duckling cross the street, you were finally at your destination.

"Car looks good to me," the off the grid buyer who introduced himself as John said with an approving nod after surveying the vintage black vehicle for quite some time.

You let out a breath.  You've made your fair share of deliveries over the years, and just like Anton's calls, you never know the type of customer you're gonna get.

Some customers complain about the price of parts, or a scratch on the car that doesn't exist or they go back on their word and attempt to haggle the price to something ridiculous.

"Nice work kid," John says handing you the promised amount you both settled on a couple weeks prior.  You didn't have to count the stash of cash to know that all of it was there.

"Finally," you sigh, smiling at the wad of cash in your hands and running your thumb along the bills, walking towards the direction of home.

Suddenly a car pulls up. "Give me the cash or give me your life. Your choice." Before you can register the words, you're met with the barrel of a pistol pointed at you through an unrolled passenger side window.

You knew you weren't a fighter nor were you confrontational. Even though you grew up in the tougher parts of the town, your brain is what got you out of your predicaments. If you were a fighter you wouldn't be spending your life stealing, fixing and selling cars.

Laughter interrupted you from handing over the cash.  Confused, you focus on the face holding the glock, and all previous thoughts disappeared and was now replaced with relief and anger.

"What the fuck Anton!" you angrily say, hopping into the passenger seat of the car next to your laughing cousin.

You knew better than to question the fact that your cousin had a gun. When you're the leader of a street race club, you need protection. Especially when all the other club owners own a gun, and fights always break out.

"You should've seen your face," he slips out in his fit of laughter, beginning to drive off as his cousin settles in his car.

"I thought you were street smart, you know better than to walk around this time flaunting your cash."

"I can handle myself, but yeah I should've been more careful. I was just a little excited finally getting paid," You admit, recalling the rut you've recently been in and the struggles you and your mother have recently been facing to make ends meet.

Anton acknowledges the response, "You know you could always ask me for help?

"My mom wouldn't take it."

Anton let's out a loud sigh, "No offense dude, but I don't get your mom's deal.  She acts as if I'm the reason our dads are dead."

You wince at the mention of your dead fathers.  Sometimes you wonder how Anton could talk about this stuff so easily.  "You just resemble Uncle so much, and to be fair you are following the same path as him."

Anton's father and yours, who were brothers, founded the Sinner's Race Club.  Anton's dad had always been your father's right-hand man in races, often riding in the passenger seat.  During a high-stakes race meant to settle a territory dispute, the brakes on your father's car failed, and both men were pronounced dead at the scene.

Since then, your mom understandably kept you away from cars, Anton, and anything related to the race club. She forbade you from getting a driver's license and doesn't even know you have one. Hiding it wasn't difficult, though, given that your family has more pressing expenses than a car.

"Alright, we're here," Your cousin announces, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I still think you should show up tomorrow. Sleep on it."

You step out of the car, once Anton puts the money you made from your sale in a spare backpack he had. So your mom wouldn't ask questions.

"How was your shift?" your mom asks from the couch as you walk through the door.

"Fine, just sore from lifting all those boxes," you lie smoothly.

"Hmm, get to bed early tonight."

As you head toward your room, her voice calls out again. "Oh, and Y/n," she says, making you turn back. "That better not have been Anton dropping you off."

You stay silent and head to bed, unsure of what tomorrow will bring.

————

"How the hell does your mom not catch on? She really thinks some warehouse gig's got you pullin' in forty grand at a time?"

You wipe the sweat of your brow, while you grab a car wrench. "She doesn't know I make that much, I help pay the rent and get food on our table. The rest I save."

"Smart. So, what's the big plan? Get outta Brimstone? Buy yourself a mansion in Summer Valley?" Mason sneers condescendingly.

This morning, you woke up to a text from Anton that convinced you to at least help prep the cars for tonight's big race, even if you don't plan on showing up. Now, you find yourself at the Brimstone Sinner's garage, the garage where you do your car modifications which sits at the edge of Sinner territory.

The place is buzzing with other club members scattered around, working on various cars. You, Anton, and—unfortunately—Mason, a friend of Anton's, who somehow wormed his way into the conversation, are huddled by the main cars, making sure they're in prime condition for the race.

"Ay! Stop distracting my best mechanic!" Anton shouts over the hood of the car to Mason.

Before you knew it you were rolling under the car via the creeper to work on the underside of the car. As you were finishing up you suddenly heard the garage go dead silent, but you didn't know why since your view was limited.

You hear Anton break the silence, "You got some fucking nerve walking into my garage asshat."

As you were lying on your back you could see about one foot from the ground up. You couldn't see who it was, but you could tell where they were from. The grey Dior dunks paired with the most unfashionable pants ever told you everything you needed to know.

Someone from Summer Valley is here.

Then came the laugh. That short, arrogant chuckle, the kind that practically exhaled wealth. Privilege. The very thing you despised.

"Just wanted to see you pussies before you lose all your dignity—oh and your garage. I'm already imagining what I'm gonna do with the place," the voice laughs again.

The conversation around you fades as your mind fixates on a single phrase. Lose the garage? Your hand curls into a tight fist, knuckles turning white. Did your dumbass cousin actually gamble the garage for tonight's race?

You try to focus your hearing, trying to see if anyone else is upset by the fact. But it's silent, they're unfazed, indifferent to the fact that Anton—the club's supposed leader—might have just wagered the club's most valuable asset. Property. You let out a sharp exhale. This is exactly what you couldn't stand about racers. They're all thrill-seeking junkies who only care about going fast. Does no one else here realize the gravity of losing this garage?

Anton snaps you back to reality. "Percy you ain't riding tonight if you're dead. Now get the fuck out before you catch a bullet."

Percy.

Leader of the Summer Valley Vipers. Just another privileged trust fund brat, bored one summer, who saw that the kids on the wrong side of the tracks had a race club and wanted in. So formed his own club. For the Vipers, racing was a hobby. For anyone from Brimstone? It was survival.

Once the obnoxious figure in those ridiculous pants left the garage, you rolled out from under the car, wiping grease from your hands. A quick glance around told you that everyone had already returned to their tasks, like the tense exchange with the Viper hadn't even happened.

Jaw clenched, you stomped over to Anton and gave him a firm nudge—just hard enough to make your frustration clear. "What the hell, Ant?"

Anton, mid-conversation with Madison—one of the club's members—turned to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"What? Seriously?" you snap. "What was Pissy going on about, losing the garage?"

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh before flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Relax, Y/n. It's just to raise the stakes, nothing serious."

"Nothing serious?" you say, mirroring his words once again. "This is my fucking livelihood, I can't live without this garage Ant? Where else am I going to fix cars?!"

Anton calmy takes one last drag, puts out his cigarette, and gestures for you to follow him outside of the garage, away from the rest of the club members.

Once you were outside Anton wasted no time in getting to the point.

"I'm only gonna say this once, Y/n. Don't ever talk to me like that in front of my people again. I run this crew."

His gaze softened slightly as he added, "I know we're family, but out here, I gotta be their leader. You get me?"

You nod understanding the politics of running a club like this. It wasn't simple and it wasn't like Anton was being rude to you.

"Now kid, listen to me very closely." Anton starts, his eyes narrowing, words firm.

You hated when he called you "kid," and Anton damn well knew it.  He was only three years older, but you decided to bite your tongue this time, sensing he had something important to say.

"You don't take risks," he said, his voice steady.

You opened your mouth to cut him off, but he quickly held up a hand, his words rushing out before you could get a word in. "—hold on, let me finish! I know you think stealing cars, making illegal mods, and dodging the feds is risky—and yeah, it is... for most people. But not for you. You're too good at it. It's not a risk when you know you're always gonna pull it off. You're in your comfort zone. You don't even flinch anymore."

You crossed your arms, shaking your head. "I don't need the gamble, Ant. Why would I put myself in a position to lose something—everything?"

"But why wouldn't you?" Anton fires back passionately.

For a moment neither of you say anything.

"That's the problem, Y/n," he said finally, his voice low. "You don't take real risks anymore because you're afraid to lose. But sometimes... you gotta lose something to really win. You know what I'm saying?"

You frowned, not fully understanding. "What's that even supposed to mean? I'm not trying to play some high-stakes game just for the thrill of it."

"That's not what I'm talking about, kid. I'm saying there's more to life than just getting by. You can't just keep doing the same shit because it's easy and familiar.  You gotta challenge yourself, push yourself outta that comfort zone. That's where the real reward is."

You shifted uncomfortably, not liking where the conversation was headed. "So what, you want me to throw myself into danger for no reason? What are you really getting at, Ant?"

His gaze stayed steady, not backing down. "I'm talking about the garage. Everything we've built. If you keep playing it safe, we'll stay small. But if we take some risks?  We could grow this into something huge, we could run the city, Y/n."

His words hung in the air, heavy. You hesitated, feeling the pressure. "And what's the catch?"

A slow smirk crept onto his face as he leaned in. "The catch is, we go all in, or we lose it all."

Your head shook slightly, confused and uneasy. Anton sounded insane right now, with all this talk of taking over the city. "I don't know," you muttered, your voice wavering.

"I'm not saying you have to. Maybe this," he said, gesturing around the garage and the cars. "...isn't your thing, and that's fine. But you've got to find what is. What's your purpose, your drive Y/n/n? What makes your heart race? What's worth risking everything for?"

————

"Just get home safe, and grab me a pack of cigarettes on your way," your mom says, her tone casual.  You exhale, relieved she let you leave without too many questions.

After your talk with Anton, and spending hours tuning up cars for the race, you head home, but your mind lingers on what your cousin said earlier.  His words hit deeper than you care to admit—he was right.  You've been stuck in your comfort zone for far too long, and you can't even remember the last time you did something that pushed your boundaries.

So, here you are, lying to your mom about getting called in for a late night shift when in reality, you're on your way to the race between the Sinners and Vipers.

Anton was practically beaming when you told him you were finally coming to the race.  He couldn't wait to give you a ride to the track.

"Took me, what—six years?  Finally got you to show up," Anton shakes his head, laughing as you slide into the passenger seat.

You ignore his teasing, cutting straight to the point.  "You nervous?"

"Nah, fuck no. Pussy's a trash driver—he's got nothing on me."

Your eyes widen.  "Wait, this is a title race?"

You didn't realize the leaders of both clubs were squaring off tonight.  A title race meant more than bragging rights—both sides were gambling big, this race could mean life or death for both clubs.

You were about to ask what else Anton had on the line besides the garage, but the car suddenly surged forward, the burst of speed nearly throwing you out of your seat.

"What the hell! Slow down!" you shout, gripping the armrest tightly.

"Relax, I'm not even hitting two hundred yet—"

The older driver begins to roll his windows up, a sign that he wants to go even faster. The world outside blurred as the engine roared, drowning out the sound of your pulse hammering in your ears.

"Anton. Stop." Your voice is steady, firmer than ever leaving no room for argument.

The driver sighs, gradually slowing the car down to legal road limits.  "You need to get over it eventually Y/n."

Those were the last words said for the remainder of the ride, you didn't want to argue with your cousin before he has one of the biggest races of his life. He knew why you were antsy with the going beyond a certain speed limit. He knew. Of course, he knew. The crash. The speed. The helplessness you felt back then. You gritted your teeth, willing yourself not to dwell on it, not to bring it up again.

You finally pull into the track, and your eyes widen in awe. It's like you were stepping onto the movie set of Fast and Furious. The area is packed with custom cars, their paint jobs gleaming under the glow of neon lights and street lamps, unique to fit the personality of each driver. Engines roar and rev, filling the air with a pulse that matches the energy of the crowd. People are everywhere—leaning against cars, laughing, shouting over the music blasting from speakers.

The race course itself stretches down a wide, abandoned road, littered with warehouses and graffiti-covered walls. Smoke drifts in the air from burning rubber, and the smell of gasoline is thick. You can feel the intensity of the competition buzzing in the air. This wasn't just a race—it was a spectacle, alive with adrenaline and danger.

Anton slowly turns into beneath a large abandoned overpass that you've often heard was a hotspot for racers and ragers. You pan your eyes across the windshield and immediately spot the rival race crews: a sea of black jackets to the right and a wall of red to the left, each group eyeing each other with the tension only moments from snapping.

You were so caught up in the moment you didn't even notice Anton turn the volume up as he played I Don't Fuck with You by Big Sean while rolling past the Viper's crew. Typical Anton—always stirring the pot. The Vipers glared but didn't act, clearly aware of who you were. You both look at each other and laugh as you join the rest of your crew a bit further into the underpass.

As your cousin parks the car he grabs something from the back seat and tosses it onto your lap—a black leather jacket.

You stared at it for a moment.  The design was unmistakable. A large, detailed skull with flames rising behind it, symbolizing both danger and speed. The club's name, Sinners, arched above the skull in bold gothic, tattoo-style font. The club your father founded. The legacy you never wanted.

Your chest tightened as you ran your fingers over the smooth leather. Putting it on would be more than just an outfit choice—it would be an open declaration of association. Your mom would kill you if she ever found out.

Sensing your hesitation, Anton laughed. "Relax, I can see the steam coming out of your head from here. You don't have to wear it, alright? Just throw it over your shoulder or something. People need to know who you're with, that's all."

With that, you both stepped out of the car, and the cheers erupted. They were loud, wild, and unmistakably for Anton—he was their leader. But as the energy surged through the crowd, you couldn't help but wonder if a few of those cheers were meant for you. After all, it was your first time showing up to a race.

As you slipped into the crowd, a few familiar faces greeted you with nods and casual grins, clearly surprised to see you here.  You exchanged small talk with some of the members, their conversations a mix of race gossip, bets, and tales of past victories. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, but as the minutes ticked by, you felt the need to break away, the noise and energy overwhelming you.

Stepping out from the cluster of people, you wandered toward the edge of the underpass, taking in the scene.  The place was massive—graffiti-streaked pillars towering above, just like the one you were leaning against.

You took this moment to observe the Vipers. You've always had the displeasure of seeing the odd one or two while you were out doing your runs, but this is the first time you've seen the entire crew together. Your eyes land on a certain member. Percy. The only one that had a leader patch on the right sleeve of his jacket, an absurd attempt to assert dominance. You laugh at how lame this guy is. Anton exudes leader, he didn't need a patch on his sleeve reminding everyone he is one.

As you continue making your observations about the Vipers, from the corner of your eye, you noticed movement—someone else seeking the same kind of quiet as you. You glanced over, and there she was, leaning against the opposite side of the same pillar as you. The roar of engines and the blaring music made it easy to miss each other until now.

She was alone, her red jacket slung casually over her arm, a cigarette between her fingers. The contrast of her dark hair against the dim lighting made her stand out even more, and for a moment, she hadn't noticed you.

You tried not to stare, but there was something magnetic about her presence—like the calm before a storm. She flicked her eyes in your direction and froze, her gaze locking onto yours as if she wasn't expecting company either.

She glanced up at the black jacket draped over your shoulder, then at her own red one, casually slung over her arm. With a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk, she broke the silence.

"Guess neither of us is feeling the uniform tonight, huh?" she said, flicking ash from her cigarette, her voice low and surprisingly soft.

Of course her voice had to be the sexiest thing you've ever heard. You remained silent, not because you wanted to, but you didn't know how to respond. This is the first time you've ever spoken to a Viper—a hot Viper at that. You didn't know how to interact with a pretty girl, let alone someone who should be your sworn rival.

"Didn't think anyone else would find this spot," she sighs, not sure if she was saying it to you or outloud to herself.

You pushed off the pillar slightly, offering a small shrug. "Needed a breather."

She smirked, exhaling smoke slowly. "Yeah? Thought you Sinners thrived on chaos."

You glanced at the jacket hanging over your shoulder, then back at her. "Guess I'm not like the others." You weren't going to explain to a stranger that you technically aren't a Sinner but you also are.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Clearly." There was a pause, then she gave you a once-over, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "So, what's a Sinner doing hiding out here, away from the action?"

You crossed your arms, feeling the pull of the conversation. "Could ask you the same thing. Vipers don't usually stray from their pack."

She let out a soft laugh, the sound almost lost in the night air. "Maybe I needed a break from all the posturing. You know how it is."

Posturing. What an interesting way to put it you thought to yourself. She wasn't wrong,  but it was an oddly honest thing to bring up barely thirty seconds into the conversation. As intrigued as you are, you're also cautious.

You glanced her over in return, taking in her outfit—black combat boots, short black shorts, and a plain white tee, almost identical to the one you were wearing. It was shocking to see a girl from Summer Valley dressed so simply. But the simplicity suited her. She didn't need to be extravagant to stand out, if it wasn't for the jacket on her arm, you would've totally mistaken her for a flag girl, the ones who countdown the race. You've always heard that they're the most beautiful girls on the track, but clearly it wasn't the case tonight.

Your eyes met again, and something unspoken hung in the air between you. Two people from rival crews, both stepping away from the world that defined them.

She held your gaze. You didn't know what it was behind those intense brown eyes. Hatred, curiosity, attraction, a cry for help? You couldn't tell, but you also didn't want to define it. Defining it may mean having to look away. And you didn't want that.  Maybe she didn't either, you doubt she would force herself to stay here with you if she didn't want to.

The universe however, had other plans. The voice of one of the flag girls crackled through the megaphone, cutting through the tension. "The big day is finally here!" The rest of her corny speech faded into the background as your focus remained on the girl in front of you.  She tore her eyes from yours, sighed, and glanced back at her club.

"I have to go.  See you around, Greaser."

"Greaser?" you echoed, raising a brow.

She smirked, giving you a slow, deliberate once-over before turning away.

As much as you wanted to watch her walk away, curiosity tugged at you, pulling your gaze down.  You glanced at yourself and chuckled softly—faded blue jeans, white tee, and a black leather jacket.  Yeah, you did kind of look like a greaser tonight.

But then you saw it.  A grease stain on your shirt.  You chuckled softly. So that's why.

You decided it was time to head back to your group. You return a bit more upbeat than when you'd left. As you approached, you noticed Anton climbing into the car you'd been working on earlier with the crew gathered around, wishing him luck before the race. That's when he spotted you at the edge of the crowd and waved you over. The group parted, and soon you were standing face to face with Anton.

"You look happy. Having fun?" he shouted over the roar of his engine and Percy's nearby.

"It's been pretty cool," you replied with a shrug, nodding along—though it wasn't the race itself you were enjoying, but who it had brought here.

Anton hummed in approval before dapping you up and pulling you into a quick hug. "I'll see you in a bit," he grinned, hyping up his team one last time before sliding into the driver's seat, Mason settling into the passenger side.

As Anton shut his door, your eyes drifted to the car next to his. You watched Percy with his crew, their energy almost a mirror of your own. But then you saw something that left you utterly confused.

The mystery girl. She was on her tiptoes, arms wrapped around Percy's neck in a hug that felt way too intimate for your liking.

Is she his girl?  Disgusting. More thoughts crept in, but you quickly shut it down. She was a Viper, and you'd only talked to her for ten minutes. You didn't get to feel some type of way about it. She was just...intriguing. Nothing more.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts. Focus on the race, focus on Anton. You told yourself.

You take a step back and settle in a spot between Madison and Hunter as the flag girls strutted to the front of the starting line, their boots clicking against the asphalt. One girl raised a checkered flag high, her red lips curled into a seductive smile as she glanced at both drivers. The other girl held the megaphone to her lips.

"Racers, are you ready?!" Her voice echoed across the lot, the engines revving in response.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!" Time seemed to slow. The crowd held its breath, and for a split second all that existed was the hum of engines, the gleam of metal, and the flashing lights.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, the flag girl swung the checkered flag down, and the cars exploded off the line.

Anton's car launched forward, while Percy's stayed right on his tail, neck and neck. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sheer speed of the cars leaving only a blur of metal behind them as they tore down the street.

With the cars gone you had nothing left to distract you from your thoughts. What were you genuinely doing here, you ask yourself.

Your eyes wandered back to the spot where you had last seen her. That girl—the one who had slipped into your mind with just a few words and a lingering look. Now, with Percy racing down the track, she stood with another Viper. This one was taller, with short hair, and they were both laughing, completely at ease with each other.

You laugh in disbelief shaking your head. This didn't seem like posturing to you, she seemed like she had fit right in. But again you catch yourself thinking, why were you even upset? She never said she hated her crew, she never said anything that implied she was like you, and now you wonder if you interpreted your interaction with her to something you wanted it to be rather than what it actually was.

The thought crept in, unwelcome. Maybe you were projecting your own loneliness, your desire to feel seen, onto someone who didn't even feel the same way. Someone who was just passing time in a moment. She was a Viper, fully a part of this world, while you were just an outsider passing through.

You turned to Madison and Hunter. "I'm gonna grab a drink. You guys want anything?"

They shook their heads, and you made your way to one of the cars stocked with drinks in the trunk. You opted for a soda rather than a beer.

You leaned against the car, slowly sipping your soda and trying to clear your head. The night had taken a strange turn—what started as excitement was now muddy with emotions you weren't sure how to handle. The hum of conversation and the occasional laughter from nearby crews were the only sounds cutting through the noise in your mind.

Then, suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.

It was subtle at first, a ripple of unease passing through the crowd. You heard hushed whispers and saw people glancing toward the far end of the lot. Then, like a wave crashing down, the sound of sirens pierced the night.

"Cops!" someone yelled, and the panic spread like wildfire.

People scrambled in every direction, grabbing their things and sprinting for their cars. Engines roared to life, and tires screeched as racers and spectators alike tried to escape before the police descended on the scene.

You tossed your soda to the ground, adrenaline surging through you as you looked around for Madison and Hunter, but they were already sprinting towards the opposite direction with the rest of the crew. You turned to follow, but something made you stop.

She wasn't moving.

In the chaos, you spotted her standing in the middle of the lot, frozen, her eyes wide but not making any attempt to run.  She wasn't panicked—she looked more...indifferent, like the flashing red and blue lights didn't mean anything to her.

Without thinking, you darted towards her. Your heart pounded in your chest as you weaved through the fleeing crowd, the sound of sirens growing louder by the second. When you reached her, you didn't hesitate—you grabbed her arm and pulled her.

"Come on!" you shouted over the noise, but she barely reacted, her feet stumbling as you dragged her away from the open lot.

You didn't stop until you reached the mouth of a narrow alleyway between two buildings. You pulled her into the shadows, pressing your back against the wall as you caught your breath. She was in front of you, calm in a way that made no sense considering the chaos unfolding behind you.

She gazed at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she was catching her breath. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

You shot her a look, exasperated. "You're welcome."

The distant sound of police radios crackled through the air as you both stood in silence, waiting for the madness to pass.

"You really should be more careful," you said, trying to break the silence. "It's not safe out there, especially with the cops around."

She shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I guess I'm just used to it. But I appreciate the concern."

You couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and curiosity. "So, what do you usually do in moments like this? Just... stand around?"

Her laughter was light, almost melodic. "Well, not exactly. Usually, I'd just blend in and keep my head down. But you've thrown a bit of a wrench in that plan."

"Is that a bad thing?" you asked, intrigued.

"Not necessarily," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But it's definitely unexpected."

You took a step closer, feeling the distance between you narrow. "And here I thought I was just being a good Samaritan."

"Good Samaritan, huh?" She raised an eyebrow, playful yet cautious. "Seems like you might be getting in over your head, then."

"Maybe I like the thrill," you shot back, trying to keep the mood light. But beneath the banter, you both knew the stakes were higher than either of you wanted to admit.

"Well, be careful what you wish for," she said softly, her expression shifting momentarily to something more serious. "Not everything is as exciting as it seems."

You paused, trying to decipher her words. There was a depth to her that hinted at more than she was letting on. But before you could ask, she turned her gaze back to the alley,

Your phone suddenly dinged, breaking the tension. You glanced at it and saw a message from Mason.

"Seems like the cops cut the race short. Your crew lives to see another day."

You chuckled, but she didn't respond, just watching you with her doe eyes. You thought about what it would be like to give in.

But just then, the light caught her wrist, glinting off the expensive bracelet she wore.  The sight of it sent a jolt through you—a stark reminder that she was from Summer Valley, a Viper, and probably a handful you couldn't handle.

The realization hit hard, and you felt a rush of uncertainty. She was part of a world you didn't want to dive into, no matter how intriguing she might be.

You decide to walk off, out of the alley.

"Hey! Where are you going?" she called out, jogging to catch up.

"Home. The cops seem to be gone," you replied, keeping your tone light, words short.

The brown-eyed girl looked confused, she thought you were building a connection. Now you were suddenly dismissive, leaving without a word, and you could see her trying to process it.

"...Wait, um..." she stammered, hesitating as if searching for the right words.

You turned back, sensing the moment hanging between you.  You had a feeling you knew what she was going to say, and a knot formed in your stomach.

You took a step back, breaking the spell. "I really should go," you said, your voice firm, not giving her a chance to speak. You turned away, leaving her standing there, a mixture of confusion and disappointment on her face.

With that, you turned and walked deeper into the night. You could feel her watching you, but you kept moving, the weight of your decision heavy in your chest. But telling her your name would mean chaos.

As you navigated the alley, Anton's words echoed in your mind. "Maybe this isn't your thing, and that's fine. But you've got to find what is. What's your purpose, your drive? What makes your heart race? What's worth risking everything for?"

You were sure it wasn't her. As much as you felt a connection, you couldn't get further involved with the race world. She was just a pretty girl you met, and seemed to have some semblance of intellectuality. You know how this ends and its not pretty. You had responsibilities waiting at home—your mom counting on you, the weight of family expectations pressing down like a heavy fog.  You had to figure things out on your own, even if it meant leaving her behind.

You can't just be the calculated person that you are and then immediately start taking risks because your cousin told you to. This was your nature. Careful.

Still, a part of you wondered if the real risk was not in chasing the girl but in denying yourself the chance to discover what could truly make your heart race.

next chapter

[occamstfs]

Road Raging

Road rage induced Himbofication and Muscle Growth, hope y'all enjoy and Drive safe y'all! -Occam

Peter has been waiting at this light for just shy of ten minutes. He wouldn’t normally mind but as he watches car after car blast past him only to merge back in ahead of him. After the fifth car does so he starts talking to himself just to prevent losing his cool. “It’s like no one knows how to drive! They all just think their time is more important than anyone else’s I bet.” 

The light turns red once more and he rolls his eyes as he prepares to sit through another cycle. He turns up the podcast he had been listening to distract himself from the peaking irritation as cars begin to pass through the intersection. He checks his rearview and scoffs seeing the man behind him playing on his phone as they sit in traffic. “God damnit, can we keep our eyes on the road? No wonder this city’s going to shit with assholes like him driving.” He stares daggers into his mirror and as soon as he finishes the man behind him looks up and smirks almost as if he knows he’s being observed.

Peter in turn flinches and blushes, returning his eyes to the traffic ahead as any responsible driver should. He suddenly hears a car blasting through the traffic in the left lane , scowling as he is sure this jerk is going to try and skip the line. Sure enough he slows to an idle crawl as he nears Peter’s position in line. The guy throws on his blinker to hop into line. Rage begins to grow in Peter’s chest as the car approaches inching further ahead of the traffic by the second.

Peter averts his eyes from the road ahead to glare at the man who has wronged his fellow drivers, only to find himself intimidated by the specimen of man taking advantage of him. The car in front of him makes room for the approaching BMW and Peter, caught off guard, accidentally lets the titan of a man maneuver ahead of him in traffic. The man shoots Peter a smug smirk and a wink as he shifts his car into the gap in traffic, securely pushing himself ahead of him.

Meek man he may be, the rage in Peter’s small body overcomes him as this asshole edges in front. He’s not going to let every muscle-brained bro just ignore him. He was not going to let this alpha asshole push him around. He lays on his horn as hard as he can and shouts any obscenity that comes to mind at the man ahead of him. In response the man only keeps up his arrogant expression, as he clearly has come out on top. He laughs at Peter as he mimes a blown kiss back at his overcome foe.

Peter screams loud enough that his voice even begins to grow hoarse as he continues to squirm in rage at the alpha man now squarely in front of him. He takes a quick breath and tries to calm down, suddenly shocked at letting himself act in such a vulgar manner. “God what is taking this light so fucking long.” He says to himself, not hearing that his voice has lowered in pitch. Easy enough to blame that on all the shouting anyway.

Peter continues to sit in his car in wait, trying not to let his anger at the man in front of him boil over again. He realizes that he’s now sitting in silence. Wasn’t he listening to something? He strains his mind trying to remember what he was occupying himself with not but a minute ago. Some NPR podcast starts playing through the static on his radio which for some reason starts to ignite his rage once more. Surely he’s not listening to that nerd-ass shit right? He slams his stereo a few times expecting it to just give in and play something else, it swiftly returns to static before his phone connects and starts playing the Eminem album he apparently had queued.

Suddenly the asshole behind him starts honking and Peter realizes the light has turned green. It’s unlike him to be so oblivious, not that it matters though since the douche in front of him hasn’t started going either. God the fuckers on the road these days. He flips off the man behind him for honking before returning his ire to the fucker in front of him. He starts to tailgate the BMW in his way, only leading the driver to glare at him, his eyes half-closed, dripping with dominance, demanding Peter’s submission.

Peter’s eyes glaze over as he makes direct eye contact, not even noticing as the light turns red once more, not even caring as he is to remain stuck in yet another cycle of traffic. His rage subsides as he stares at the man ahead of him, does he know this jerk? His rage completely gives way to confusion as he sits and struggles to even remember that he just blew up at the man in front of him. His stereo soothes him with music he feels deep in his chest should not be as nearly as comforting or familiar as it is.

He feels his arms briefly strain his shirt. Peter feels the sleeves stretch and nearly tear before they quickly dissolve leaving them still-growing arms barren. He starts subconsciously rapping alongside Slim, feeling confidence grow in his chest as the droll life of quiet irritation that he knows begins to feel unfamiliar. His arms and chest begin to pump up as he bops in his seat to the music. He feels his pecs quickly strain his shirt before it expands to fit them, the neckline dropping to allow everyone a view of his hard-earned pecs.

Pete feels the AC graze his now exposed chest and is taken aback, he breaks his gaze with the bro ahead of him and is overcome with shock at his body. He jumps as he sees how powerful his arms have become, triggering his seatbelt to force him back into his seat, squeezing his now shockingly powerful chest. He whispers to himself as his voice deepens even more, “this can’t be right, I’m I’ve..” The music rises in volume trying to edge out any remaining thoughts of defiance. He feels the music reverberate through his chest, pumping it larger still, asserting that he is powerful. He once more makes eye contact with the man ahead of him and recognizes, oh, that’s his bro yeah! He then turns his mind back to his body as he finds yet another aspect of his transformation, his car is beginning to smell as if it were a locker room as he begins to just pour out sweat.

Pete turns the AC even higher which only spreads his musk even more through the cabin. It almost immediately fills the whole of the car, as if he’s been using it as storage for dirty gym clothes for weeks. He blushes to himself as he wonders if this actually is the case. He desperately wants to question if he could possibly go to the gym enough for that to be a problem before he stares at his growing arm and flexes it. Bro all this time has been paying off huh. Pete smiles to himself as he basks in his own power.

The light turns green once more but this time the cross traffic has totally blocked his lane's ability to go. Further ahead of Pete and his bro a crowd of cars honk as are once more impeded. Pete feels like he too should be bothered by this but can’t find it within himself to care all that much. He continues flexing in his seat as he feels his jaw squaring out and his bulge start to fill out his pants. He sniffs his pits as he tries to remember if he’s headed to the gym or on the way back from it, guffawing to himself as he realizes he forgot deodorant today. Not that he minds though, the gym smells rank anyway, might as well smell like him.

Excited at the idea of going to the gym once more Pete is suddenly preoccupied with the idea of getting there faster. His bro in front of him flexes back at him and smirks, almost in encouragement. Pete sees him mouth the words “race ya” and winks once more. Pete’s entire body tenses up and he discards his tank, tossing it in a pile of other sweat-stained shirts in his back seat. He’s gotta beat his bro to the gym.

He feels a cap shape itself around his head as his hair shrinks into a short crew cut. Pete is far too gone to notice though, bathing in his own scent and compulsively flexing as he tries to brainstorm a way ahead of his bro. Slow as his mind now goes he guffaws once more as he lands on the perfect idea. He’ll just skip the line huhuh. Pete swerves out of the line he has been impatiently waiting in all this time and shoots past his bro who raises his chin at the challenge.

Possessed with self-superiority, Pete scans the line ahead looking for some meek nerd or hungry twink to let him in. Not too far ahead he sees a tired man glare at him through sunglasses, not knowing it is a reflection of a face he once had. Pete sneers at him, his smile perfect and white as if carved from marble. He raises his arm behind his head, briefly struggling to stretch the muscle justly. The other driver recoils in disdain at the sheer audacity of Pete forcing his car in front of him. He continues to stare as Pete continues to demand entry ahead. The glaring man who has never even done so much as curse under his breath at other drivers begins to feel a rage grow in his chest, a rage that Pete is all-too-eager to encourage. Won’t last too long anyway, just a little stepping stone to having another bro.

[homestylehughes]

baby?

pairing (s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

warning(s): angst (sorta) fluff sweet Quinn, reader and Quinn are both scared but its sweet.

summary: yn unexpectedly finds out her and Quinn are having a baby.

wc: 1.1k

an: hi loves! I hope you all are doing well!!! I had this fic unfinished in a doc for a while so I decided to sit down and finish it today. I would just like to say that I need Quinn to be a father, like dad Quinn would literally save my life omg. I think I plan on working on either jack fic today or the Instagram au.. maybe both tbh. anywaysssss! much love as always <3

Yns hands shook as she watched the timer on her phone slowly wine down. Everything feels like a dream as she stares at The three tests that lay in front of her on the bathroom counter. This doesn't feel real, it can’t be real.

Her and Quinn had always been safe, she was on birth control, which she took regularly. Well at least she thought she did, until she had the sudden realization that her period was over a week and a half late, she knew something was up. 

So she's here now, staring at 3 tests that can ultimately change their lives forever. She didn't even know what she'd do if she was, what would Quinn even do? Would he leave her? Would he say that her baby trapped him? Oh gosh, what would his family think? What would her parents think? Her mind runs through every possible scenario, as time ticks down. 

The sound of the alarm snaps her out of a spirling, almost nightmaric daydream. Her hands shake as she reaches out to grab the test in front of her. There isn't any amount of deep breaths she can take, before turning over the test. Yn stares at the two lines like a deer in headlights. She can feel her whole life flash in front of her, this can't be happening to her, it has to be a dream she thinks to herself. Leaning against the counter, in attempts to try and calm her racing heart and shaky hands. 

Raising her head to look in the mirror, it hits her. She's pregnant, she's having a baby, Quinn's baby. Moving her hands to rest against her stomach, she begins to sob. She can't tell if she's crying tears of joy or tears of fear of what can happen next. 

Not sure what to do next, yn stands in the bathroom in temptes to calm herself down. taking deep shallow breaths, trying somehow, someway to control the tears running down her face. After her attempts to calm down, the first thing on her mind is what does she tell quinn? How would she even bring it up, how he would be mad and leave her? Her mind starts spirling again, sobs that she tried to choke down, are now coming up and this time she cant help but let herself cry.

As if the situation couldn't get any worse at this moment, she hears the front door open and shut. Yn’s eyes open in shock. moving to look at the time on her phone, seeing a text from Quinn saying he'd be on his way home 45 minutes ago. She wasn't ready to tell him, she didn't even know what was going on, how could she explain this to someone else? 

“Baby? Are you home?” Quinn yells out from downstairs?

“Ye-yes! Im here” she yells back, her voice breaking from crying 

Yn can hear his footsteps moving upstairs to their room, where yn is standing in the connected bathroom. Her hands began to shake as she tried to quickly find the boxes and positive tests. 

“You won't believe what happened at practice today” he begins, dropping his bag by the bedroom door before he starts making his way to the bathroom.

“So petey an i are running drills and tell me how this fucker trips me and i-” quinn suddenly stops talking. His wide eyes locked with yours as they stared at each other. His eyes slowly move to the test laying on the counter that you have your hand over. 

“Yn. what's going on” 

‘I-quinn” you whisper out, tears again prickling against your waterline

“Move your hand” he says softly 

You take a shaking breath before pulling your hand away from the positive test. Quinn quickly moved to grab the test, pulling it to his face to look at it. It's like you see the gears in his head turning as he stares at it. Time feels like it's moving in slow motion as you wait for any type of response from him. 

He sets the test back gently on the counter, before turning to lean his back against the counter, running his hands over and down his face. And for the first time in what feels like eternity you hear him finally let out a sigh. You are not sure if it's good or bad, but you're leaning more towards bad as she stares at his rigid body leaning against the counter. 

His no response almost seems like a response to you, you're not sure what to do. the struggle to keep your cries down is failing by the second. failing completely as you open your mouth to speak but if your voice is cut off before you even get the chance to utter a word when it's ripped away by a sob. The sound of your crying seems to snap Quinn out of whatever he was going through beside you, his head moving from his hands, his eyes moving to look at your face, but you can't let him, he can't see you like this. 

“Yn” he says soft yet sternly as he takes a few steps to reach you. 

“Hey look at me baby” he says, his hands moving to grab your cheeks, pulling your face to look at him. 

“Quinn, i'm so sorry” you start,

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I know we hadn't planned on having kids, until we were married and this is just your second season as captain. I don't want you to be mad at me. I don't want you to leave me.” your voice breaking at the end of your confession. 

“Yn, i would never ever leave you.” he says softly

“This baby..this all is a little sudden but i've wanted you to be the mother of my children for the last 6 years.” he begins. “I want this, of course im scared but i want this with you, there's nothing to be sorry for, i love you.” he finishes 

Tears stream down your face as you pull yourself into Quinn, your arms wrapping around his neck, his arms squeezing you tight in your middle. 

“I love you so much” you mumble into his neck

“I love you more,” he says, pulling back from the hug, “and I love you too, little baby,” moving his hands to rest on your stomach, with a smile on his face. 

[jazjelspen]

scarlet and silver lining (part 1)

(alastor w/ daughter reader)

(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc qwq/apologies for the pacing as well!!!! It’s 1AM LMAO—)

[chapter 1]

Sure, you didn’t actually want to redeem yourself.

Personally, you knew you were in the right place and were meant to be in this spot in the afterlife. You weren’t bloodthirsty and power hungry like the rest of the monsters down here but your sins were from your reckless decisions and you knew you couldn’t take it back.

So in turn, you didn’t truly trust the princess’s claims and theories.

But here you were, in her hotel through her doorstep. Dragging you along by your wrist being gentle but also filled with such excitement that she might’ve tugged a bit too hard for your preference.

As she led you to introduce yourself to the other residents and staff, you couldn’t help but wonder why exactly you let yourself get into this predicament.

Then again, you didn’t really have a choice.

_______________________________

Your hands stopped from fixing your hair, you had been stunned from preparing yourself for the next twenty minutes you’d be on air. Your face contorting while your eyes stared dead at your reflection at the mirror decorated with bright little light bulbs all around it’s frame as they shined their lights on you. Your hands shaking slightly and barley starting to sweat.

Why exactly were you shocked? Your boss.

“See here ____, what I need you to do is to simply get in through inside the princess’s little hotel and spy for me for a few weeks here and there! Document everything for me, whichever way you can. “

Vox, your boss, was ordering you on a new mission for you to do. He wouldn’t have you do these kinds of things regularly unless he needed some kind of spy or a pretty face for a segment of his show to get more ratings or as a distraction of sorts. Although lately he’s been sounding more aggravated, annoyed—dying to get what he wants. He was facing the set his crew were preparing as they fixed a few lights, checked if the cameras were functioning, etc.

It was good that he was facing that way and you the other, for if he saw your look of shock and slight fear spreading across your face like a disease he would probably question you like some kind of unruly detective for it.

But why wouldn’t you react this way? After all, he was asking you to spy and be around your father. The man you were ashamed of being connected to. He didn’t know this— he didn’t have to know this. For you knew Vox would simply use and wear you out as a pawn, overwork you, maybe torture you and hurt you to get specific answers.

He wasn’t afraid of doing anything to get what he wants anyway.

“Tape recorder, journal, write it on some fucking menstrual pad I don’t fucking care. I simply need to know what that fucker is thinking of doing next with Lucifer’s daughter now on his fucking shoulder.”

He snapped, static overtaking his voice at the end of his sentences. Clearly absolutely finished with this entire situation especially since for all you knew the last time someone tried to sneak in for him they were caught in the matter of a day, and if you didn’t have a direct connection to Vox he would’ve sent you first.. but now you were one of his only options until he really got frustrated.

“Oh but do this for me and you’ll get your own little studio! Your own show! Be your own boss, have your own crew.. you get the idea. All financially supported by me! Oh and you even get to live by yourself.. although—

I still own you. Get that. But you get your little artistic freedom huh sweetheart? What do you say? Do this little favor for me? If you don’t I’ll simply.. kill you.

Or throw you in the streets. Depending on how badly you fuck up you’ll get either one of the two! You’ll die either way.”

You were left a bit shocked, the immense dump of information overwhelming you so. “I—I—“

“Good.” He cut you off.. geez. “You start in two days, two days to get what you need and to at least plan how you’ll keep me updated. And remember, you give me all the information either throughout your stay there or you spit it all out when I need you to still be here on the job.” He fixed his bow tie walking towards the set to start the broadcast, a strong frown decorating his screen before hiding his stress with a cocky smile for the cameras.

You looked at your reflection with a grim look on your face, heart sinking and a shaky sigh escaped.

You didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t.. you— wouldn’t.

But you needed to do it whether you liked it or not. You knew this.

Survive, get a few more perks and bonuses that would very much make you live your afterlife a bit more comfortably.

It’s just gonna be a month right?— Fuck.. Vox didn’t specify how long simply just… a few weeks. Most likely he just wants you to be there as long as you could.

Keep your life, get a better job, better home home, stay protected. That’s what you’ve been focusing for all these years—

Why stop now.

____________________________________

Dragged by the princess you were stopped in front of a group of sinners, your other hand almost losing its grip on your suitcase but managed to catch it by the tips of your fingers. The sweat from the anxiety that was accumulating while on your way here.

It weirded you out a bit that Charlie didn’t react to your drenched hand. maybe she was too overwhelmed with emotions as well to notice?…

Charlie set you in front of a pink spider, someone you knew all too well from the constant advertisements, short interactions with him, and Valentino’s undying yapping, Angel Dust.

“Angel, meet ____, _____ meet Angel!! She’s going to stay here for a chance at redemptiooon!! How amazing!” Her excitement was pouring out like thunder and lightening, just simply uncontainable.

The pink soul darted its eyes at you with a sense of familiarity. You knew being a known figure would be a bit of a challenge but god— you really wanted that place to yourself.

“Heyy.. Angel..” you waved a little sheepishly, knowing how awkward this feels for you at least.

Angel eyed you a bit intensely, but you knew deep down he sorta understood why you’d be here as well— at least not knowing that Vox himself sent you here—maybe he thinks that your presence is due to the same reason he’s away from Valentino. Needing an escape from your abusers and bosses was something he understood all too well.

“Hiya cutie, didn’t expect to see you here of all places.” He smirked as he waved back at you but in a more confident and laid back way than you did.

Charlie paused at his words, “Oh? You two know eachother?—“

“Oh.. I know this adorable face anywhere!” Angel exclaimed proudly with one of his arms reaching over to squish one of your cheeks playfully, you laughing a bit due to the slight awkwardness of the situation but also because he was one of the very few people you never had issues with despite how much you guys never really talked much.

“She’s a real darling, hard worker and all. Although.. didn’t think your boss was that bad as to make you want to run in here of all places..”

“I was about to say— aren’t you that chick that is on TV for that one overlord’s show or somethin’…” a low and almost growly voice spoke from slightly farther away.

Looking towards that particular direction you are met with a cat-like person, a furry soul with fluffy ears and a seemingly insatiable thirst for alcohol the way he drank down a large bottle of cheap booze like water.

Your shoulders raised up a bit in embarrassment, smiling as a way to cover up your nervousness that was already slipping.

“Didn’t we also literally catch Pentious trying to work for him literally not that long ago?.. At this point they aren’t even trying to hide it by sending her here.” Spoke another, this time a more serious female voice descended from a mature woman with long silver hair and an ‘X’ over her eye that resembled those of the exorcists.. huh.

You shook your hands together a bit as you tried to defend yourself in a way, not wanting to be caught this easily “Oh nonono!.. I’m not here because my boss sent me I— I just..—“

“Yknow what Vagina,” Angel interrupted you to glare at the woman that spoke “If you knew anything about how the V’s treat their employees you wouldn’t blame her and I for wanting to be away from them and anything work related.. got it toots?”

Your heart warmed slightly but also let out a huge sigh of relief. Maybe that wasn’t the real reason why you were here but you were glad to know that Angel was someone you could relate the most due to your very similar situations.

“Yea Vaggie! Let’s give her a chance! If Angel knows her and if we make sure she’s here for reals then she’s a perfect second official resident!!”

The girl, now named Vaggie by Charlie, rolls her eyes as she lets out a sigh. “Can we at least check if she has no electronics on her. If this turns out to be another Pentious I will not hesitate this time.”

A single glare from her one eye piercing you with a sharp and merciless spike. Making you feel even more nervous and unwelcomed but.. you knew you had to just keep going..

“Oh Vaggie no need to be so rude to our new guest! We can do those checks later! Right now it’s introduction time!!” She exclaimed almost jumping up a down, a bit too joyous for your liking.

Angel noticed this and side eyed you while whispering a cheeky comment to you “Ms. Rainbow pants here may be a bit much but you’ll get used to it sweetcheeks.” He said, with a tone more sounding of an older brother of sorts.

You smiled a bit at him but then looked away to try to relax, not excited to be ‘introduced’ to someone you knew was in the far.. far corner of it all.

“Oh and this is Vaggie! My girlfriend and manager of this establishment! If you have any issues or concerns you may check in with her, she’s a-ma-zing!” Despite making her sound helpful and less.. terrifying. You couldn’t help but still feel rather intimidated.

Vaggie continued to glare at you with a clear distrust in you. You just waved at her shyly as well, trying to at least not seem as dangerous as she may think you are.

Until Charlie once again dragged you to four other figures, the fourth one a bit behind the first three. “And this is Husk the bartender, Nifty our housekeeper and cook, and Sir Pentious! Pentious being one of our first official residents!”

She spoke each name by pointing to which name belonged to who, Pentious’s name ringing a bell but it was new seeing his appearance. So this is the guy that forced Vox to drag you here instead..

Husk, the cat that spoke earlier simply looked at you and didn’t give another word, downing yet another bottle. Pentious waved at you with the same energy you gave as well but was more or less focused on his ‘eggs’ that were poking at the flesh around his eyes on his tail and Nifty.. well..

She was on top of you, more specifically— your head.

She was sniffing you, eying you like a fucking hawk, inspecting you as if you could be contaminated with a dying virus— your breath hitched as you hoped she wouldn’t smell the fear growing on you as your skin went cold.

“Fairly.. clean….” She then backed up slightly to inspect your eyes with her own giant one only to then scurry off across your body like a bug, causing you to get disgusting goosebumps.

“Pretty.. smells nice.. no dirt—“ she then stopped by suddenly standing in front of you with a big ol’ smile as if what she just did was incredibly normal.

“Hiya! I’m Nifty! Had to make sure you weren’t bringing any filth in the hotel.. I just cleaned this place…” She took out her little hand for you to shake.. being hesitant but not willing to be rude to someone this peculiar— you shook her hand with just two of your fingers and before you could pull away yourself she then immediately scurried off as fast as she came.

“And then last but not least—“

“Alastor! Quite a pleasure, a real pleasure to get to meet you young lady! Please, feel free to be welcomed into the Hazbin Hotel!” Alastor, the radio demon, dad— approached you with such enthusiasm and enticement. As if he couldn’t wait to talk to you.

Your blood ran cold, eyes widened with fear, your free hand clutched tightly at the handle of your luggage as Alastor took the other to then put it up to where his smile was, not kissing it or having your hand too near his lips but still keeping courtesy of when meeting a woman as he usually would.

Even in death, he stays a gentleman as per usual.

“My my.. you poor soul. To have to run away from your employer down to this place.. why he must be a terrible person, isn’t he?”

Ah right.. Vox and Alastor hated eachother. You knew this very well.. you honestly didn’t know much about why they hated eachother other than the running joke that Vox most definitely lost a fight with him.

You died years later after Alastor did so you don’t exactly have the full scoop. Him dying in your late teens and you dying in your mid to almost late 20s. You lived life yet— some would say not enough.

“Poor thing, not to worry! Let this be your safe house! Your haven, your asylum, your refuge!” He exclaimed each two sets of words by twirling you around in an exaggerated manner, in a style reminiscent of the way dancers would spin their dance partners in the 30s. You recognized this move all too well— feeling almost nostalgic.

Although you were slightly grateful for one thing he was doing right.. not being overly revealing or announcing the one big fact you two had between the both of you.

You didn’t need that fact to be running around the place like some kind of daily gossip.

Before your anxiety would make you burst in crying or throwing up right in his face you immediately tugged your hand away, his own keeping your wrist in his palm.

“Thank.. you—“ your hand holding the luggage let go to try to tug his hand from holding you any longer until you then finally managed to pull his grip away from off of your other wrist in order to create more space between him and you from the immense anxiety you were having, your lungs threatening not to quicken and burst like balloons. You immediately went back to hold onto your luggage once more.

“How.. welcoming..” you pretended as if you were dusting off your clothes and your arms as if trying to tidy yourself up instead it really meant to give you a few more seconds to collect your thoughts properly.

‘God.. everyone knowing I’m with Vox is only going to make this real fucking hard— I didn’t think this entirely fucking through..’ ah yes.. you totallyyy weren’t panicking about this now active interaction the past two days huh—

‘just act calm and cool _____, you need that money, you need that place, you need that show, you need protection.. stick to the plan..’

“Uh— how humble!.. of your Hotel staff to be so.. welcoming— your highness.” You spoke to Charlie, smiling brightly as if all of this was just casual conversation.

“A real treat seeing dear ol’ Angel Dust here, good to see a familiar face ain’t it Angie?” You turned slightly towards the pornstar, with him returning your comment by exclaiming with a “Damn right!”

Charlie smiled intensely with a nod, face full of joy and innocence. “I’m so sososo glad you like it here so far!! Your experience here won’t be disappointing! You’ll have an absolute blast!—

oh oh!! Can’t forget! We have to get you to your room! If you’d like you can stay there and rest or come down here and join us! Whichever you feel comfortable with.”

“Why thank you very much your highness, your hospitality sure is a darn nice breath of fresh air compared to the rest of hell. Bunch of cats and dogs fighting like wild animals out there.. need a real break once in awhile..” you spoke as you followed Charlie as she lead the way to your room, giving you a minor tour of the hotel before letting you rest in your new humble abode.

Your act, although part sincere and true, was full of holes. Holes not enough for the normal gaze to see but they are clear enough for him to see.

Alastor would eye you as you followed the princess, his fingers uncurling and curling around his staff slowly and menacingly. His sharp pupils narrowing while aligning with his grin as it expanded with a sense of mischief holding it up by its ends.

He saw right through you, of course he would, he knows when you lie, know when you’re honest, when you’re afraid and happy.

Why lie to him my dear? If you know that he knows you like the back of his hand.

Either way he knows he’s going to have to catch you alone at some point, he must catch up to what he’s missed throughout the years he’s been gone from the living world and even in hell.. although you made it clear the last time you met in hell that you don’t want to see him again he finds it curious how you’re even here at all.

Oh but.. gosh.. how much his little girl has grown.

_________________________________

You were a two months from turning 7 years old now, being adopted almost a year ago was the most prolific moment in your young life. Your grandmother, her real name being Adelaide but you preferred to call her Nana or Grandmama… Nana was better for your little voice to stretch out more easily and faster.

She was always such a darling to you, treating you as if you were one of her own. She told you true most amazing and beautiful stories, shared and sang the most wonderful lullabies and songs that sometimes Alastor would join in on, would make delicious food that you adored throughout your childhood, love you unconditionally the way a grandmother would.

And technically you were hers through papers but sometimes it felt as if it was inconsistent in certain areas.. mostly with Alastor.

Alastor was a peculiar man, as famous and passionate as he was he certainly didn’t have a heart of gold, only open to those he truly cares for like his mother and his radio show. It was as if his heart was surrounded from the sky to the depth of the ground with rusty fences and sharped barbed wire that only allowed very few people and things being let into his life.

You tried to get close to him around this time, bringing him little gifts you made and trinkets you’d find that reminded you of him as a way to get closer.

But he always just smiled at you, gave you a pat, and either said ‘good job’, ‘oh how cute, leave it at my study now won’t you?’ ‘I’m sure your Nana would love it.’ And go right back to what he was doing..

You didn’t understand why that happened— but it seems as if he didn’t bother to get close to you simply because you were a gift to his mother, a granddaughter she wanted to have but he couldn’t give unless through legal assistance,

you were for her to love— not for him to raise.

At least that was the case at this point in time.

It was weird.. you never truly has any terrible or bad interactions but— yet it made you disappointed each time, made you crave for his attention. After all— he’s supposed to be your father. Why wasn’t he paying attention?..

You were currently in your room sitting at your desk, papers scattered with different colored wax and pencils messily thrown around on the surface.

You were drawing something, a gift as a last chance to get him to notice you properly. You even had a special gift that your Nana helped you pick out for him! Surely, your dear dad would notice you now right?

Scribbling the last few finishing touches you then dropped the pen on the table as you exclaimed a little “Aha!” And raising the drawing up high, feeling proud of your masterpiece!

You quickly set the drawing down as you then hopped off your chair to a cower through a little playbox full of toys you had, only to search for one single thing. Once your tiny finally felt the touch of wood and slight metal, you grabbed it and pulled it out with yet again another delightful glee.

It was a small radio shaped wooden charm, the metal being the small little ‘hand’ that moved whenever the radio was operating and transmitting audio frequencies. The perfect gift for papa!

You then quickly grabbed the drawing off your desk, both your gifts in hand your little feet went pitter patter as you ran to the dining room where Alastor was having lunch freshly made by his mother.

Your Nana having recently left the home to get a few emergency groceries, made this a good time for just him and you to connect.

“Papa! papa!” You squealed, Alastor’s brows furrowing at several elements in his surroundings annoying him slightly..

“_____, no running in the house remember? Cant have too much noise disturbing our home.” Despite his scolding you couldn’t help but to just giggle and almost jump in excitement in what you’re planning to give him. He continued “Besides as I have mentioned many times before, call me Al—“

“But papa! Papa!— look!—“ you interrupted him, your voice projecting a bit more into a yell as to have him look at what you have.

“_____, no yelling please dear. I can hear you quite well. I’m not a mile away..”

“Yes papa— b—but!.. look..! I made you something..” you then gently set the drawing up at the table first beside his food. Alastor’s attention finally set on the paper and even stopped eating to look at it. He picked it up.. his eyes inspecting it.

It was a drawing of you and him in a sunny flower meadow in a forest both you and his mother had a picnic in recently, except it was just the both of you here.

The drawing was definitely not the most perfect but it was definitely the cutest. Your scribbles somehow managing to immediately the shape of his hair perfectly, his glasses were visible and his red suit was very on parr with what he would wear on the daily, then there was you— your hair a bit more messily drawn than his and seemed more rushed.. as if you couldn’t yet wait to finish the piece. To top it all off it even had small scribbled words in pencil that said ‘papa’ and ‘me’ and an arrow pointing at each individual figure that fit that description.

Oh how cute.

You stared up at him closely, even for a young kid as yourself you were able to notice the way his usually dark and cold eyes had a twinkle in them, a sort of softness diluting his everyday smile ever so slightly.

It took him a second before you then set the trinket on the table where he picked up the paper from “And this is also for you papa.. nana helped me pick it out for you since I said I wanted to give you a present…”

His eyes darted towards the trinket and even picked it up, inspecting the work and its shapes along with the design of it as a whole. Admiring it almost.

His eyes darted back to the drawing, both hands with both gifts.

“Darling…”

Your little heart ran faster, your hopes were rising up to the heavens. Is he gonna say he was proud?.. he loves it? Adores it?.. hates it?—

“This is cute and all, but don’t forget to draw Nana in next time! She was at that picnic with us too remember!” He exclaimed as he smiled at you in an almost bittersweet way, his softness almost being wiped off entirely.

You frowned, “but.. I made it for you papa.. I’m always with nana so.. I wanted to make something for you!” You smiled fondly at him, trying to still hope for a ‘I’m proud’ from him.

“Aww is that so dear?” He spoke as he then set the gifts on the table on the opposite side of where you were, all while hiding behind a smile.

“Well just don’t forget to add Nana in next time, thank you darling for the lovely gifts.” And just like that he began eating.

Ah.. still the same— reaction. It was a bit better.. it wasn’t just a short and quick sentence at least so that made you smile a bit but.. you expected much more.. a hug, a proud smile.

“Yes, papa…” you then slowly walked off back into your room. A bit down but you weren’t going to let that ruin your smile, Nana always told you and papa to always smile no matter what. So that’s what you’ll keep doing. Even if— your expectations were dearly hurt today.

What you didn’t see was Alastor yet again inspecting the gifts you gave him after you left, a hand tilting it a bit to see it clearly and to have the trinket closer to the figures of the both of you.

His permanent smile’s ends stretched a bit, a ‘hm’ escaping his throat as he took another sip from his black coffee.

He never truly saw himself as your father, never fully taking care of you unless his mother asked him to.

Ah but, it was nice to think that way huh?

(HAIIII THABK YOU FOR READING THISSSS I had lots of fun writing this and omfg I have so many idea for Vox and reader interactions, especially when the plot thickens. But thank you so much for the wait on chapter 1 of this story!! I know the prologue has been awhile but I reallyyyy want to continue this since this is my very first original alastor and daughter fanfic that I’ve written years ago and want to revamp into this!!)

[wxnheart]

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐡 (𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 E𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

part one

Say my name I promise I'll love you if you do it So do it for me

Chaos doesn't always have to be bad, you know.

Take for instance the bed. After some good sex. The bed that'll be a fucking mess.

Pillows everywhere (you swear you have more pillows than you do blankets; thank the Pillow Princess for that), covers thrown haphazardly, and you'll be there, sweaty and sated, resting in a pile of muscled arms, legs, and chest.

You usually don't know who the hell you're laying on you're so fucked out but damn their chest feels good.

Heh. You thought your libido was high but König and Simon got you beat there, too. By miles. Holy fucking shit. You and König also joke that Simon's the slut of the three of you. The bastard doesn't deny it, either.

As much as Simon and König love you, best believe there's always a competition between the two men when it comes to you sexually.

You'll also find out that the winner of their sparring matches is also the one who gets to fuck you first.

Those hands of König's aren't just good with a knife. He can make you come with those fingers alone.

He's also the one who loves to go down on you (this isn't to say that Simon doesn't). Will feast on you forever if you let him. Will also encourage (read: command) you to fuck his mouth or ride his face.

Dirty talk — Simon is a fucking pro. While König's showing you what his mouth does, Ghost is practically growling in your ear and telling you everything they'll do to you. Everything.

They can and will subject you to some orgasm denial if you wanna fuck around and find out, too.

And oh baby, when you get down on your knees and return the favor... it takes everything in them not to bust right then and there.

König goes crazy when you suck the head of his dick. Simon has this one vein on the underside of his. That's his weak spot. Have fun.

König loves it when you run your nails down his back while he's fucking you. Loves to see those marks in the mirror.

You also found that one spot on Simon's shoulder that if you bite down on it, the fucker goes crazy.

He loves covering you in hickeys, too.

König is the gentle but firm kisser. Simon is the passionate, tongue-fuck, bite-your-lip-and-leave-a-mark kisser. So bite his lower lip and leave a mark, goddamnit.

One time they were away and you were so fucking horny, you called them up. They heard you, heard your pleas as you touched yourself, as you told them you missed their hands, their mouths, and their dicks. You told them that you needed them to come home and fill you up. You moaned so wantonly and practically screamed when you came. They were dead silent the entire time.

König was so damn flustered and hard and frozen like a goddamn statue. Ghost was fucking seething. He was so fucking pissed. He was so fucking aroused. Why the fuck would you do that, knowing he wants nothing more than to be home, fucking you into the mattress, fucking your face, or god knows what else. Refused to rub one out and most definitely saved that for when he got home.

Simon and König also got you back once by calling you and making you masturbate for them. And god, you can never forget the way they sounded, authoritative, their accents heavy and thick with desire as they fucking ordered you to touch yourself and moan for them. Yeah, that's it. Moan for them, baby. Cum for them...

Oh, yeah, back to competition. One time König was away and Simon was home and you spent the better part of the day teasing him. He told you in so many words to fuck around and find out. You found out alright. Goddamn, did you find out.

He made you ride him. He made you ride him and like fuck were you stopping anytime soon. König called, Simon made you answer the phone (on speaker no less) and made you say his name ("Say it, love. Tell him who's making you fucking scream."). Oh shit. Silence on the other end. Again. Oh fuck, you knew it was on when König got home.

...And when you're busy catching your breath, sweaty and sated, wrapped in muscled arms, after some good ass sex—"Ready for another round?" What? You look up and two pairs of eyes stare back, clouded with feral want, and oh fuck—

[soobnny]

winter wind — lee minho.

trope. best friends to lovers. pining. minho is astronomically down bad.

synopsis. a look into lee minho’s realization that maybe he is eager for the affection of someone else featuring the menaces, seungmin and jisung

word count. 1.5k words

warnings. curse words and nothing else i think

note. this idea just suddenly came to me so please enjoy tsundere minho and this silly little fic

Lee Minho sighs out in relief when the pair of you finally make it to Chan’s apartment, immediately being greeted by a warmth in sharp contrast to the weather outside.

The winter wind was unforgiving, as it always is, nipping at Minho’s skin and harshly blowing a deep shade of red on his nose and cheeks. It’s a sight that elicits teasing from his friends, and he tries to shut them up right away before you can hear anything.

You’re still by the doorway, struggling to take off your winter boots. With the information that you’re out of earshot, verified by a quick glance your way, only heightens their teasing.

Heavy on Seungmin. He’s the only little fucker that isn’t easily intimidated by Minho’s infamous glare.

“You’re practically naked, hyung.” Minho wants to wipe the smirk off of his face so bad, but Seungmin isn’t technically wrong, only confirmed further upon double checking his appearance from the huge fucking mirror decorating Chan’s living room.

A sweatshirt and some pants — a pretty fucking terrible choice considering the temperature outside.

“It wasn’t that cold.” He dismisses.

His shivering hands and runny nose deeply contradict with his statement, and Seungmin all but laughs at how persistent Minho is at defending his case. Though, he is having an awful time trying to justify his friend’s clothing choice when he knows Minho usually walks to Chan’s place.

Lee Minho is far smarter than a sweatshirt and some pants.

Seungmin, and the rest of the boys, can only share glances in understanding when you come stumbling into the living room wearing almost all of Minho’s outerwear. His favorite puffer jacket is on you, engulfing your entire figure and that scarf sitting on your neck looks awfully like the one Hyunjin had gifted the boy a few birthdays ago.

So you’re the culprit as to why Minho’s quietly made his way to stand by Chan’s heater to catch a glimpse of his normal temperature.

“Coldcoldcoldcold—“ You pause your conversation with yourself when you see the boys all smiling at you in the living room. As if they know something yoh don’t.

“Hi.” You mumble, trying your best to show a smile as you puff out a breath of winter air. They greet you back right away with accompanied squeals and pinches in the cheeks.

The scarf looks adorable covering half your face, and Seungmin has to physically bite back his laughter when you raise your hand and Minho’s (too big for you) gloves greet them. His friend is horrendously in love with you, and it’s so obvious that Seungmin’s dumbfounded as to how you haven’t realized it yourself.

It doesn’t help that Minho is absolutely useless and won’t confess first — refuses to, even. It’s come to the point where Chan, always the one to tell the boys not to meddle, has practically begged the boy to confess.

The boys probably can’t count with all their hands combined the number of times they’ve told him to confess and he outright avoided the question.

Though, despite being the most straightforward in the group, it seems his feelings for you has made him turn a complete 180 (at least when it comes to the part of his brain reserved for romance). They can’t blame the boy though. It might as well be his first time experiencing the overwhelming tides of feelings and everything that comes with it.

Lee Minho has never been the type that was eager for the affection of someone else either. Among the eight boys, they’d say he was the one who didn’t really have the time for intimacy.

And then you came, in the form of the biggest contradiction to everything Minho had established about love.

Now, the poor boy is falling over, pupils dilated as he silently makes his way to stand by your side to ask you — in the softest tone the boys have ever heard from Minho — “you weren’t too cold from outside?”

There’s a faint smile on his face when you shake his head. And the scene playing in front of everyone would perfectly fit in one of the sitcoms they watch together when they’re bored from how fast Minho’s fond smile changes into a look of feign annoyance when he turns his attention to his other friends in conversation.

Perhaps they just aren’t lucky enough to look behind the scenes, to bear witness to his gentle voice and sweet smile and the way he (without a question) stripped himself off of his outwear as you tread against the white blanketed ground minutes earlier.

He simply shrugs his jacket off and slips it on you, dropping the scarf on your neck and tying it to make sure it’s secured on your neck. Quiet scoldings leave his lips as he does so, eyes focused on taking his own gloves off to put on your hands. If he was too much of a coward to hold your hand, he would have to sacrifice his gloves and bear the cold.

He’d take the harsh winter wind over a call in the morning telling him you’d caught a cold from the winter. Nevermind that there’s a higher chance he get sick instead.

The coming scratchy throat and runny nose are nothing compared to the grateful smile you had directed to him and the way you look clad in his clothes. He almost feels guilty for thinking he could get used to that sight, for hoping to be subjected to your beauty everyday for the rest of his life.

Almost. He was nothing if not a boy who was willing do anything just to see you in his clothes again.

Of course, he hides it well. He’s practiced enough from the months of his dawning realization to the present. So, he keeps the abundance of his teasing remarks high in hopes that they continue to work.

He tells you his hat is too big for you that it makes you look silly or how your height matches that of a 12 year old compared to him which is why his clothes are swallowing you whole. And he tells you that the red on his ears are definitely because of the sandpaper wind and not because of the warmth he felt when you hugged him — it shocks him to the point that he had to push you away and you almost fall on your butt because Lee Minho doesn’t think he can hold back the confession bubbling in his throat if you kept holding him like that.

“You seriously need to tell her.” Jisung is the one who breaks Minho out of his reverie.

The boy can’t just catch a break.

Minho had just settled on the couch, watching you intently as you laugh with Hyunjin at one of Seungmin’s jokes, when Jisung decides to add another tally to the number of times they have failed to get him to confess.

The unconscious grin from watching you laugh turns into a scowl as he directs his attention to Jisung.

“No.” He says pointedly. Han Jisung doesn’t need to clarify for Minho to know what he’s talking about.

“I don’t like her like that.” Minho adds as a weak attempt to get the boy to stop trying to meddle but he knows he isn’t being truthful. And he knows Jisung knows too.

“Sure you don’t.” Jisung snickers, playfully nudging the boy’s side. “We’re not blind, you know. We can see the way you look at her… and the way you’re looking for her right now.”

Minho’s heart thumps at being caught. He simply groans in response, begrudgingly grabbing the brownie in Jisung’s hand and shoving the remains down his mouth.

“She’s in the kitchen, by the way.“

“I didn’t ask.”

“But you were thinking it! You are soooo down bad that it’s actually kind of funny now.” Jisung giggles to himself. “You’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you? So stop being a pussy.”

Minho would’ve lunched his friend to the living room ground if not for your voice calling out his name from Chan’s kitchen. Han Jisung is saved another day from Minho’s wrath.

(He’ll thank you later.)

“Min?” He’s quick to give up, and he closes his eyes in surrender because Han fucking Jisung was right, he would do anything for you, and Minho can already hear the boy telling him he told him so.

Perhaps Lee Minho isn’t as immune to love as he thought he was. There’d have to be a new rebranding towards the part of his brain he had thought was repulsed by the idea of romance. Especially when you had introduced to him the feeling of beating hearts and sweaty hands.

So this is what love is. Now, he knows of the fondness he used to think he could only direct to his cats. He knows of the romance he used to laugh at when watching romantic comedies.

And maybe Lee Minho isn’t so opposed to the idea after all. Especially upon walking in to the kitchen and seeing you smile up at him with a new batch of brownies Felix had saved up for you (that you’d happily share with Minho).

Despite the cold, Lee Minho feels warm, and he looks at you like he does with the little things he loves — a small grin tugging on his lips and his eyes focused on you, diluted and relaxed. Genuine.

Perhaps there is time for intimacy, and perhaps he’d have to put an end to that tally and finally fucking confess.

(If he didn’t, the boys will have owed Seungmin a lot of money).

[lilgarbitch]

Touch, Torture, and Tattoos- Nicholas Ruffilo (One shot)

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader

CW: tattoos/ description of getting one, bit of shitty plot, lots of dirty filthy evil smut 🤭, SassySubby!Nick (more like bratty switch), unprotected p in v(naughty lil fuckers), creampie, cockwarming???, my shitty writing 🫶🏻

Word Count: 10.8k👀

Author’s Note: Just a quick lil thing. Don’t ask what came over me to make this. Just know that I’m not to blame😇 (i wrote the smut before the plot so the opening is ass ngl)

Viewer discretion is advised. 18+

You sat in the slightly uncomfortable metal chair of the tattoo shop, trying to entertain yourself on your phone. Nick was quiet as he focused on the leg of the client in front of him, not wanting to make any mistakes, so you made sure you did your best not to distract him. 

The boys had time this week to relax and do what they wanted, for once not having to be in the studio or travel for an interview, so you happily accepted their invitation to spend time with them since you haven’t had the chance to see them in a while. 

The group and you mainly hung out at their house, either watching movies, swimming, making a mess in the kitchen, or chatting about how life used to be before they got big. It was nice that they finally had time to just relax and have fun in the mix of their busy schedules. And you were definitely happy that you were finally able to see Nick again. You had a crush on him for as long as you could remember, instantly being attracted to his humor and his gorgeous looks, but pushed the feelings away once they started getting busier, knowing that there wasn’t even time for a relationship, even if he felt the same. But that didn’t stop the feelings from slowly resurfacing and becoming more than just a crush every time you had the opportunity to spend time with him.

Every time all of you hung out, your attention always seemed to fall on him more than the rest. Even when watching a movie, your eyes always trailed towards him. You never made it obvious, though. You did your best to treat them all the same, treating them like brothers. The last thing you needed was to make it awkward, or even worse, create so much tension you couldn’t see them anymore. But the tension that had been building inside of you was becoming torture.

Nick had known of this break for a while now. Itching to get back into tattooing, he asked a friend of his if he could use his studio for a day, then asked around if anyone was looking to get a piece done. He had two offers, and you happily told him that you were willing to get another. Not that you weren’t always down to get a new tattoo, but you mainly offered so you could spend more time with him. You loved spending time with the boys, and absolutely enjoyed hanging out with all of them, but when a rare chance came to get alone time with Nick, you just had to take it. 

You two had been here since early this morning. He told you that you didn’t have to come in until later in the day, but almost seemed sad to say, like he regretted spending most of his free day away from you. But with the offer of being the errand runner and grabbing us lunch, he happily obliged. Not that he needed any convincing, but he had to pretend like he felt bad making you spend half the day doing nothing but sitting in the shop with him. 

Your attention gets pulled from your phone as his client stood up and walked to the mirror to check out their new tattoo. Nick chatted with them for a few minutes, getting payment set up and wishing them a good day as they left, pleased with the new piece of art on their body. 

He walked over and sat down in the chair by you, stretching his back after being hunched over for an hour. 

“I love doing this, but god, does my body hate it,” he mumbled as he stretched his arms over his head. A small sliver of skin caught your eyes as his shirt raised with him, but you quickly blinked away any inappropriate thoughts and looked back up at him just in time for him to settle and glance at you. 

“So, you ready?” he asked, clapping his hands together with a smile on his face. You couldn’t help but match his smile. 

“Always,” you said as you stood up from your chair. 

He stood and walked over to where he had your piece already drawn out and prepared on a stencil. You two had been shooting ideas back and forth for the last few days, and eventually landed getting a skeleton hand. One of the few remaining spots you had open on your skin was on your rib, right below your breast, so you decided that getting the hand to fit the curvature of your body would look pretty cool.

He grabbed the stencil and walked over to you, so you lifted your shirt, holding it right below your bra. He eyed the space of blank skin, then held the stencil up to it. After a few moments of him lining it up perfectly, he finally placed it. You both walked over to the mirror so you could check the placement. After turning your body a few times, making sure you liked where it was, you told him it was perfect. 

You walked over to the bed and laid down, tucking your shirt under your slightly lifted bra, and angling your body in a way where the stencil could be easily worked on. He set up his table with everything he needed and then got himself sat and pulled up next to you, ready to start. 

“All good to go?” he asked, making sure you were officially ready to start, and you nodded. 

You did your best to relax, but tattoos in this area were hard not to focus on. So you mentally prepared yourself as he reached out and held your side and brought the needle to your skin. But the sensation of his touch completely overpowered the pain of the needle.

All you could focus on as he began working was the way his gloved hand held and pulled at your skin. You didn’t know if you were glad that you didn’t have to focus on the needles, or if this feeling was much worse. He was touching such a sensitive area, and you had to try your hardest not to blush or react in any way. 

His finger grazed against your skin, causing you to shiver. He stopped and looked up at you with a concerned look. 

“You okay?” he asked, assuming that was because he just went right over bone. Knowing you’d just stammer your words, you nodded.

But your eyes locked onto his as he looked up at you, and your mind went blank. The look of concern mixed with something you could distinguish in his pretty blue eyes fueled a fire inside you that you needed to extinguish as fast as possible. You blinked and turned your head away, trying to get that look out of your mind. He finally went back to working on your tattoo, and you forced yourself to focus on the pain, needing it as a distraction. 

After about an hour of grueling torture, him constantly being so sweet, and you forcing yourself to keep your mind off him and on the needles repeatedly hitting your skin, he finally finished. 

“Let me just wipe one more time and then you can go check it out,” he said as he scooted his chair back and grabbed the green soap. 

“Okay,” you said, sighing a breath of relief. It wasn’t over just yet, but you finally had a break from the torture. 

He came back over, gave you one last wipe, and then moved back, giving you room to stand so you could check it out. 

You walked over to the mirror and eyed your new piece, a smile forming on your face. It was really good. Not that you hadn’t expected it to be, but it was thankfully worth being so close to him for an hour straight. 

“I love it,” you said with a smile, turning to him. His eyes snapped up from your body and to your face, almost as if he had been caught staring, and he mirrored your smile. 

“I’m glad. Now let me wrap that and I can close up shop,” he said as he quickly turned to grab Saniderm. 

His mind raced as he went to wrap your new tattoo, needing to be quick so you could finally put your shirt down. The last hour had been absolute agony, being so close to such an intimate part of you. He had to use every fiber in his body to keep his focus on your tattoo and not let his eyes glance up at your slightly exposed under-boob. 

You were sitting on Nick’s bed, back pressed against the wall, scrolling on your phone as he worked on his laptop, occasionally typing away as he answered his emails. He said he had to get a few done, and offered to let you hang out in his room with him until the rest of the guys got back from doing who knows what.

You did your best to entertain yourself as he worked, but you mind kept trailing back to how close you two were earlier. How you could almost feel his breath on your skin as he worked on your new tattoo. The way he kept glancing up at you, checking to make sure you felt okay. You couldn’t get that look out of your mind. His pretty eyes just looking up into yours, holding more emotion that he let on. You had been so worked up since the tattoo started, and it wasn’t going away. 

At this point, you had stopped scrolling and were just staring off into space as your mind wandered, imagining the emotions you could get his eyes to portray. Every thought that you had pushed away was now flooding your mind since he wasn’t focused on you, and being alone in his room with him did absolutely no help. 

You finally come back to reality, only to notice him glancing at you in your peripheral. You glance over, but once he realized he had been caught, he quickly focused back onto the screen in front of him, causing a smirk to form on your lips. Was he actually losing focus because of you?

“Getting distracted, Ruffilo?” you teased, causing him to tense slightly at being caught. Your mind was glazed over with how turned on you were, and you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. You just wanted to mess with him. 

He cleared his throat, not taking his eyes off the laptop, and did his best to act nonchalant as he responded, “Huh? Oh. No, just thinking.” 

“Good. You wouldn’t want to miss any important details,” you teased with a smirk still on your lips. He let out a small huff and playfully rolled his eyes as he looked at you. 

“I would never. I’m a professional,” he said, making you bite back a giggle. He was so cute when he tried to play things off.

“Oh, I know,” you responded with an amused smile. He raised an eyebrow at your smile. He did his best to keep a cool demeanor, but couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at your expression. 

“Then why are you teasing me?” he asked, pretending to be annoyed. You gave him a playful scoff. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, feigning offense, making him chuckle. He turned in his chair and looked at you, crossing his arms. 

“Oh sure you don’t. You’re just the picture of innocence,” he said sarcastically, causing you to giggle. 

“Yeah. That’s one way to put it,” you replied, a smirk tugging on your lips. He couldn’t help but smile at your giggle, it causing a strange warmth in his chest. But your smirk was causing a much more intense reaction in him that he had to hide.

“But you’re awfully sassy for someone who tries to be so innocent,’ he teased, his tone turning playful, with a hint of flirting. He was enjoying this playful banter between you two. 

“Sassy?” you said, trying to hide the amusement in your voice as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. You’ve got quite an attitude on you.” He teased, chuckling at your act. You crossed your arms and tried thinking of the best comeback, but none were coming to you. 

“Well you’re easily distracted.” you finally said, giving him a playful grin. He raised an eyebrow at your comment. He tried to play it off, but there was a pang of embarrassment in his chest.

“Easily distracted? Me? I’m never distracted.” he protested, trying to sound confident.

“Oh yeah? Then how far along are you on those emails?” you teasingly asked, pointing to the laptop sitting on his desk. His eyes glanced over to the laptop, one that showed a half written email, and mentally cursed at himself. He had gotten distracted thinking of you, and then let you distract him even more with the playful bickering.

“I’m…uh…almost done,” he lied, trying to salvage what dignity he had left.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, a laugh escaping your lips. He tried to keep a cool demeanor, but he was getting more flustered as you teased him.

“Yes. I’m serious. I’m almost done,” he repeated, trying to sound more confident this time as he turned back to his laptop. 

“Good, because I’d feel bad if I was the reason you couldn’t get any work done,’ you said, amused. He could feel his face getting more flushed. He tried to come up with a witty comeback, but all he got out was a flustered stammer. 

“Y-you’re not the reason..I just..got distracted, that’s all,” he managed to get out, making you smirk as he finally admitted to being distracted.

“Then what’s got you so distracted?” you playfully asked, causing him to tense up. He didn’t want to admit it, so he tried coming up with the most convincing answer. 

“I don't know..I guess I’m just tired from having to focus on tattooing all day.” he lied, now pretending to be more focused on this half written email on his screen. 

You nodded with a grin on your face, not actually believing him, just having a lot of fun messing with him. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he was just thankful you stopped pushing the issue. He let out a sigh as he started typing again, doing his best to focus on the words, but he couldn’t stop letting his mind travel to you. His eyes involuntarily trailed back to you, causing you to smirk. 

“Do I need to leave?” you teasingly asked, calling attention back to how easily distracted he was. His eyes widened slightly as he realized he had once again been caught staring, so he turned back to the screen, hiding his blushing face. 

“N-no, you’re fine. I’m just..lost in thought,” he said, trying to play off that he was just straight ogling you. You giggled and crawled across the bed, moving closer to him. 

“Whatcha thinkin about?” you asked, in a slightly annoying childish voice, wanting to tease him more. He swallowed hard as he heard you move closer to him. He tried his best to keep his composure.

“N-nothing important,” he lied. His eyes flickered over to you against his will, gauging how close you now were. 

“Well, it’s obviously important enough that it keeps distracting you,” you said, feigning a sweet tone. He let out a soft huff, getting frustrated at how easily you were getting to him. He shifted in his chair, trying to maintain some semblance of control in this situation. 

“It’s not important enough to share, trust me,” he said, his voice slightly strained. He tried keeping his gaze back on his screen as he felt the tension in the room grow thicker by the second, but his eyes trailed to you once more, curious as to why you were so quiet. Once his eyes landed on you, he saw that you were giving him a childish pout. He sighed, knowing that you always did that when you didn’t get your way, but he had to resist telling you the truth. 

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, trying to sound stern, but you giggled when you noticed the amusement in his voice. He let out a defeated sigh and leaned back in his chair as his resolve crumbled away at the sound of your laugh. 

“Fine. You wanna know what I was thinking about? It was you. I was thinking about you, alright?” He said, slightly embarrassed but also annoyed that you actually managed to pull it out of him. 

You raised your eyebrows in shock, not expecting him to be so blunt and say it already. It wasn’t like you didn’t already know, but you were surprised he just came out and told you straight. 

“Oh, you were thinking about me?” you asked, once again bringing back your playful tone. His cheeks flushed more as he realized how bad of an idea it was to admit it. He didn’t want to, but you broke him down so easily. 

“Yes, I was thinking about you,” he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. He kept his gaze on you, gaging your reaction, “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

“And what about me were you thinking about?” you asked playfully with a smug smile. This caused him to groan. You had been playing at his frustration and desire all day, and now that he was forced to think about you, he was struggling to keep those thoughts under control. 

“Everything about you. Your smile, your voice, your eyes…everything,” he said, his voice growing huskier. He shifted in his chair again, trying to alleviate the tension in his body. Your eyebrows raised slightly as an amused smile played on your lips. 

“Everything?” you asked, your tone teasing, yet slightly seductive, causing his eyes to darken. He could feel the tension in the room reach its boiling point, and he had to refrain from losing control.

“Yes. Everything,” he repeated, his voice getting closer to a growl as you kept pushing his buttons. He gave himself permission to rake his eyes over your body now that he knew he had nothing to hide, “I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how hard I try.”

“Did this start before or after the tattoo?” you ask, seemingly unaffected by his tone or actions. 

“Before. Long before,” he answered, his voice dripping with desire as he watched you with hungry eyes. He had developed an attraction to you a while ago, but being so close to you as he tattooed you just made it worse. 

“And how did you feel when I told you where the tattoo was gonna be?” you asked. You were enjoying this way too much. Just watching him lose it right in front of you. 

“I was…conflicted. On one hand, I was excited to finally get so close to you, but on the other, I knew it was going to be absolute torture.” he answered. You feigned offense at his playful choice of words. 

“Torture? You saw being so close to me as torture?” you teasingly asked. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. You had a mischievous glint in your eyes and he knew that you were enjoying this a little too much. 

“Don’t give me that look. You know exactly what I mean,” he said, his tone getting more seductive, “Being so close to you, yet not being able to give in and.. touch you…it drove me insane.” 

“Well looks like you’re gonna have to stay insane,” you teased, shrugging. He was just giving you more and more opportunities to mess with him, so now you were going to keep riling him up and just not give him what he wanted. His eyes darkened more at your words, his smirk fading into more of a frustrated expression. 

“Don’t tease me like that…You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to touch you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low husky whisper as he leaned forward. You just gave him a smug smile as you relaxed back, supporting yourself on your hands as you met his gaze with a mischievous look. 

“And that’s why I’m not gonna let you,” you said bluntly. His eyes widened at your serious tone, his face turning into a mixture of desire and determination.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, tempting me like that just to deny me. It’s cruel.” You just shrugged, amused with how easy it was to egg him on. 

“You can’t do anything about it. I won’t let you, so you’re just gonna have to suffer from a distance,” you said nonchalantly with a smirk playing on your lips. He took a deep breath and glared at you. 

“You make it so hard for me to be a gentleman,” he mumbled through gritted teeth, his eyes raking over your body hungrily, “You’re so damn tempting, sitting there all smug and teasing me like that,” 

You let your eyes slowly trail over this figure, seeing how tense and worked up he was, before landing back on his eyes with a mischievous smirk on your lips. He’s making it so easy to get him riled up, and it just makes you more excited to finally break him. You knew this was all an act. He wanted you to think that you had no control over him, but in reality, he was wrapped around your finger. 

“Hey, I said you couldn’t touch me. But if you’re nice, maybe I’ll touch you,” you said in a stern yet seductive voice, getting quieter towards the end. His breath hitched as you spoke and his body tensed at the thought of you touching him. He looked at you with a mix of desire and desperation in his eyes, slowly breaking. 

“You’re killing me here. How can you say something like that and expect me to behave myself?” he said, his voice straining as he struggled to maintain his composure. You so badly wanted to make a face, finally cracking down on his faux dominance, but you knew exactly what you could do to get him to finally break. You gave him a teasing pitiful pout.

“Because you wanna be a good boy for me, don’t you?” you asked in a soft teasing yet seductive tone. His eyes widened as the words left your mouth. He swallowed hard, doing his best to keep his composure, but his mind and body had already given in. It took a few moments for him to respond, but he gave in.

“Y-yes…I wanna be a good boy for you..” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. A proud smile formed on your lips, happy that you finally got to him. 

You scooted back on the bed, creating a space for him, before patting the spot next to you. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting between your face and the spot on the bed. He was torn between his desire to give in to your every whim, and his pride, but ultimately, the desire won and he slowly stood up and walked to the bed. 

He sat stiffly, trying to maintain some semblance of control over himself, but his body was tense with anticipation. He looked at you with a mixture of nervousness and excitement in his eyes, waiting for your next move. Taking that as a sign to continue, you softly pushed against his shoulders until he was now lying down in front of you. He didn’t resist, but just tensed at your touch. He watched you intensely, his heart racing in his chest as he waited to see what you would do next. He felt vulnerable in this position, completely at someone’s mercy for the first time, but there was a sense of trust and excitement in his eyes. 

Enjoying the adorable man completely giving himself to you, you gave him a warm smile as you softly started tracing your fingers against his stomach, trailing them over his hips and down his legs, giving him a glimpse of the new dynamic. His breath hitched at your touch, his skin felt extra sensitive as he was not used to being so vulnerable, but also loving it.

“Now remember, no touching,” you said softly yet sternly as you looked into his eyes.  

“I..I won’t touch you…I promise,” he said, his trembling voice barely above a whisper. His body felt like it was shaking with desire, but he was determined to be good for you. 

You gave him a soft smile and a quiet, ‘Good boy,’ as you continued teasing your fingers across his body. He just watched and took in the feeling as you started trailing your fingers down to the hem of his shirt. You hooked your fingers under and pulled up until there was just a delicious thin strip of bare skin between his waistband and shirt, and softly traced your fingers over it, watching his reaction as you teased him. 

Nick’s eyes fluttered shut and a soft gasp caught in his throat as he felt your fingers brush against his bare skin. He could feel his body responding to your touch, his skin tingling with every gentle graze of your fingers. He was completely under our spell and he knew it. He let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes to look up at you, his gaze filled with desire and submission. 

You bit back a smirk as you caught his gaze. You knew that he was falling deeper and deeper under your control and you loved it. You looked back down to where your fingers traced against his skin and slowly moved them up, bringing the shirt with them. He watched as you slowly lifted his shirt, exposing more and more of his skin to your touch. He could feel the heat rising in his body, and his breathing grew heavier with each passing second. 

You were going to tease him for as long as he let you, so once the shirt lifted to right above his navel, you leaned down and started softly littering kisses on his bare skin. His breath hitched as he felt your lips touch his skin. The sensation flooding his mind, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. His eyes closed as his body overreacted to your touch. 

“That feels so good…” he managed to whisper out, his voice thick with desire. He wanted to touch you so badly, to get you to speed up, but he knew he had to resist. He was determined to let you take the lead, even if it killed him. 

You looked up at him with a playful gaze as you started trailing kisses higher and higher, lifting the shirt with you. You just wanted to see how long it was going to take him to start begging for more. As he felt your lips trail up and his shirt rise, he opened his eyes and looked down, meeting yours. He had a look of desperation and admiration, and you could tell this was slowly driving him insane. 

“Please…don’t stop,” he begged, his voice ragged. He was struggling to keep his composure as his body tensed and trembled with desire. He was completely under your spell, willing to do anything to keep feeling your touch. 

Once his stomach and chest were on full display, you continued to litter his skin with soft kisses, occasionally licking and nipping at sensitive spots. This caused him to lose himself in a haze of pleasure, his body responding to your every touch. He let out a string of low moans and soft gasps and his back arched, pressing himself against your lips more.

“F-fuck…you’re driving me crazy,” he managed to gasp out, his voice laced with need and desire. 

You were enjoying the sight of him falling apart under your touch, so you slowly started upping your game. Trailing kisses back down his chest and stomach, you slid your hand onto his thigh, softly rubbing it, moving your hand up and down, and occasionally rubbing his inner thigh. He let out a soft gasp as his body started responding to your touch, his muscles tensing and his breath picking up. Enjoying his reactions, you started moving your hand higher, getting a little too close to his growing bulge. He let out a strangled moan as his hips involuntarily bucked slightly in response. 

“Please…please don’t tease me like that,” he pleaded, his voice almost a whine and filled with desperation. He was growing more and more frustrated and desperate with each passing moment, his body aching for your touch. 

“Be a good boy for me, baby,” you said softly, with a slightly demanding tone. As much as you enjoyed his begging, you’d never give in. You were going to make a mess of him. 

Nick shuttered at your words, his body responding instinctively to your command. He wanted to be good for you, to obey your every whim. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to regain control over himself. 

“I-I’m trying…I’m trying to be good,” he gasped out, his voice strained. He could feel the tension building inside of him, the need for more growing stronger by the second. 

Humming appreciatively, your kisses started getting lower, now running along his waistband, and your hand moved higher, now brushing against his bulge. He let out a shaky airy moan, jolts of pleasure shooting through his body every time he felt you moved your hand. 

“Oh god… you’re killing me,” he whimpered. His body trembled in anticipation, him wanting nothing more than for you to touch him, to give him the release he so desperately needed. 

A small giggle erupted from your throat, the vibrations traveling to his sensitive skin. You lifted your head and just watched him as you started softly palming him through his jeans. A strangled moan left his lips as he felt the heat and pressure of your hand against him. Every time you rubbed your hand against him, he let out a small gasp, his body tensing in response.

“Please, baby…more…I need it so badly,” he begged, a desperate, pathetic whimper. 

“Beg all you want, my love, you’re gonna get what I give you,” you said with a slightly stern tone. He whimpered again at your tone, his body submitting to your will. He knew there was no use in begging, but he couldn’t help himself. The need for your touch was overwhelming, and he would do anything to feel your hands on him. 

“I’ll be good…I’ll do whatever you want,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to take pity on him. 

His eyes just made you want to tease him more. This was becoming too fun for you. To have so much control over him that he could look up at you with those pretty eyes, begging you to help him. It was like a drug, and you just wanted more. 

Keeping your eyes on his, you leaned back down and pressed your lips on the waistband of his pants, and slowly kissed closer and closer to his aching bulge. He watched with a bated breath as your lips moved closer. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his body tense with anticipation. He desperately wanted you to touch him, to give him the release he craved so badly. He let out a shaky moan once you were so close yet so far from where he needed you the most. 

You gave him one final look, before placing a sloppy open mouth kiss against the height of his bulge. He let out a loud moan the second your lips finally made contact with it. The feeling of your warm mouth through the fabric was almost too much to bear, and he couldn’t stop himself as he bucked his hips up against you. 

“Oh god..yes…please..” he gasped out, his voice laced with need and desperation. He was completely at your mercy now, unable to control the way his body responded to you. 

Pleased with his reaction, you decided to step it up a notch and softly sink your teeth into it. Not enough to hurt him, but just enough for him to really feel you through the fabric. He let out a strangled cry. The sensation was both shocking and pleasurable, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. His body shuttered as his hips bucked, desperately trying to get more friction.

“F-fuck…do that again…please..” he gasped. He was completely lost in the moment, completely lost in your touch. 

Even though you said you wouldn’t give in to his commands, you enjoyed the reaction too much. You softly pressed your teeth into him again, this time running your tongue along the fabric between them. He let out a loud moan as you did it again, the sensation of your tongue sending shivers down his spine. He was practically writhing beneath you now, his body wracked with pleasure. 

“God…I can’t take it anymore…please..let me cum..I need to come so badly,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse and desperate. The feeling was too much and he was ready to explode at any moment. You lifted your head and looked at him, giving him a pathetic pitiful look.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already about to cum?” you asked condescendingly. He let out a strangled whimper at your words, his face flushing with embarrassment. He knew it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. He was so pent up, so desperate for release.

“I-I know…I’m sorry..I just can’t help it,” He said, his voice trembling. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging for mercy, “Please…just touch me…I need to feel your hands on me..”

You raised an eyebrow as you brought your hand back to his bulge, softly palming him again, giving him a small sliver of what he was begging for.

“And why should I do that?” you asked. He let out a shaky breath as he felt your hand on him again. His hips arched up against your hand, desperate for more friction. 

“Because…because I’ve been good for you. I’ve been doing everything you asked..please..just give me a reward..” He begged. He was practically panting now, his body trembling with desire. 

“Oh, you want a reward? After all the begging and commands for more, you think you deserve a reward” you asked, your tone condescending yet teasing. You hooked your leg over his and moved to straddle his thighs as a way to get more of an advantage on him. You began palming him again, this time much lighter so he couldn’t get as much pleasure from it, causing a whine of frustration to leave his lips. It was torture, and he could feel himself getting even more worked up. 

“Please..I’ve been a good boy. I’ve done everything you asked…I need this so badly,” he begged, his voice shaking with need as he looked up at you with pleading eyes. Smirking at his desperation, you moved your hand up to the waistband of his jeans, popping the button then unzipping them. You looked back up at him as your fingers started toying with the waistband of his boxers. 

“I don’t know. You’ve been pretty naughty, always bucking your hips even when I told you that you had to be good and not try to touch me,” you teased. He could feel his heart racing as you played with the waistband of his boxers and your words sending a shiver down his spine. 

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help it. You just feel so good,” he gasped out, his voice barely above a whisper. He was desperate, willing to get on his hands and knees if it meant you’d give him the release he so desperately craved. You finally hooked your fingers under his waistband. 

“You gonna be a good boy and let me touch you?” you asked, your voice raspy with seduction. His eyes locked onto yours as he swallowed hard. 

“Yes..I’ll be good..Just please..please touch me..” he pleaded, his voice shaking with desire. He would do anything to feel your hands on him. Absolutely anything. You start to pull his pants and boxers down, but stop, right before his tip could peek out. It couldn’t hurt to keep teasing him, right?

“You know, I don’t know if I believe you. Maybe you should beg some more,” you said, looking back into his eyes with a mischievous look. He looked at you with pleading eyes, his desperation evident. He could feel the cold air on the sensitive skin of his tip, and it was driving him crazy. 

“Please…I’ll do anything. I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to. Just please touch me. I need it so badly. I need to feel your hands on me. I’ll be good. I promise.” A smile formed on your lips on your lip at his begging.

As much as you’d love to see him on his knees, begging to be touched, you figured you could just give it to him. You pulled down his pants and boxers more, just enough for his cock to spring out. The tip was red, hot, and desperate for attention. He let out a sigh of relief as you freed his aching cock. He looked up at you with a mix of desperation and gratitude.

“..Thank you…” he whispered out, his voice trembling. He could feel the cold air on his exposed cock, and it was driving him wild. He wanted you to touch him so badly, to relieve the intense pressure that had been building inside him.

He let out a low moan as you ran your fingers against his sensitive skin, his body tensing at the touch. He closed his eyes, his breathing ragged and uneven. As you wrap your hand around him and brush your hand over the tip, he let out a gasp, his hips bucking up involuntarily. 

“Oh god…that feels so good..” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. 

A string of curses escapes his lips as you start loosely pumping his cock, the feeling of your hand dragging against his skin sending waves of pleasure through his body. He tried to keep his hips still, but they kept bucking into your touch, seeking more friction. 

“Please…more…I need more,” he gasped out, voice hoarse with need. You stopped your movements and looked up at him.

“Stop moving and begging or else I’ll stop,” you said, your voice stern and condescending. He whimpered at your command, his body going rigid as he forced himself to stop moving. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, his expression pleading. 

“I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t move or beg…just please…don’t stop,” he pleaded with a trembling voice. He desperately wanted to obey your orders, wanting to prove that he could be good for you. That he deserved this.

Humming contently at his words, you shift your position, now moving your hips closer to his until the base of his cock was pressed right against your covered core. He let out a strangled moan as you moved. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to thrust his hips up against you, but he forced himself to stay still, remembering your command. 

“Please…can I touch you? Just a little bit?” he begged.

“Good boy for asking, but no,” you said with a teasing smile. He let out a frustrated groan as you denied his request, but quickly forgot about it as you started rocking your hips against his cock, rubbing yourself against him. The feeling of your heat against him was almost too much to handle, and he had to fight the urge to grab your hips and pull you closer. 

“God…you’re so cruel..” he gasped out. You giggled as you stopped your movements. 

“Cruel? My love, you better watch your mouth,” you said with a mischievous grin. He swallowed hard as he realized what he had done. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn’t help it. He was so desperate for you, so needy. 

“I’m sorry..I didn’t mean it. You’re not cruel, you’re just…driving me crazy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He stared at you with his signature pleading eyes, begging for you to continue. 

You softly giggled at his apology. He just gave you a perfect opening to mess with him just a little bit more. He watched as you slid off his lap and stood beside the bed, a whimper escaping his lips, worried he actually ruined his chance at release. He looked at you with a look of curiosity and frustration, wondering what you were planning next. With your eyes still on his, you slowly moved your hands to your pants and undid them, before slowly pulling them down and stepping out of them. His eyes widened as you were now left in only underwear. 

With a smirk, you crawled back into the position you were in before, straddling his hips. He felt his cock twitch as he watched you and felt your bare legs now pressed against his hips. 

“Fuck…you’re killing me,” he groaned, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. 

He let out a low moan as you grabbed his cock and positioned it against your wet panty-covered core. The feeling of your wetness against him was too much to bear, and he involuntarily bucked his hips again. 

“Please..I need to feel you..no more teasing.” He pleaded, his voice thick with desperation and need. 

“I was gonna let you touch me, but since you keep making commands and bucking into me, I guess I won’t,” you said looking down at him sternly. His eyes widened as you spoke, making him curse under his breath, regretting his actions. 

“No, no, no..I’m sorry..please. I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll be good. Just please..please please let me touch you,” he begged, his hands still gripping the sheets tightly. He was desperate to feel your skin against his, to feel the warmth and softness of your body. You hummed as you debated his words. 

“Thighs only,” you said as you watched the way he gripped the sheets below him. He let out a sigh of relief as you agreed to let him touch your thighs, albeit just your thighs. He let go of the sheets and reached up to grip your thighs, his hands finally being able to slide up and down your soft skin. 

“Thank you…thank you so much..” he whispered, his fingers softly digging into your flesh. He massaged and gripped at your thighs gently, trying to show you how grateful he was for even this small amount of contact. 

You hummed at the feeling of his large hands on your thighs. Slowly and softly, you began rocking your hips as you watched him. Nick let out a shaky breath at the feeling of your core rubbing against him, driving him insane. He gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he fought the urge to thrust up against you.

“God…you feel so good. I wish I could feel you without these damn panties in the way,” he groaned through gritted teeth, his voice strained with need. Pleased with his reaction, and secretly agreeing with him, you slipped your hand down and slid your panties to the side. 

“Your wish is my command, my love,” you said as you pressed your now bare pussy against him. A loud moan left his lips as he watched. The feeling of your bare skin against his was almost too much to handle, and he couldn’t hold back much longer. 

“Oh..f-fuck..that’s so much better,” he gasped out, his hands sliding up to grip your hips, pulling you closer.

“Hey. Thighs only, remember?” you said sternly. You enjoy the way he pulled you, but you couldn’t have him thinking he can just get away with doing what he wants. He quickly let go of your hips, grumbling in frustration, but obeyed your command and brought his hands back to your thighs.

“Sorry..you just feel so good..I couldn’t help myself..I want to feel all of you..” he whimpered. 

“Be a good boy, and you will,” you said as you started moving your hips again. He fit so perfectly between your folds and rested perfectly against your clit, rubbing it every time you moved. 

He watched as you moved, his eyes fixed on the spot where you were connected. The feeling of your slick folds against his sensitive skin was almost too much, and he could feel himself getting closer to the edge. 

“I’ll be good..I promise. I’ll be the best boy for you, just please..don’t stop,” he gasped out. He gripped your thighs tightly, trying to control himself and not buck his hips again. 

You held him closer to your core, applying more pressure. You hummed a moan, loving the feeling of him rubbing against your clit. He groaned as he felt his cock throbbing against you. He could feel your arousal dripping down his shaft, and it was driving him wild. He wanted nothing more than to grab your hips and thrust up into you, but he knew he had to be patient and wait for your permission. 

The pleasure of his cock dragging against you was so nice, and you needed more. You let go of him and moved up his hips more, your core now right above him, and started grinding into him. Soft moans escaped your lips as you felt him rubbing through your folds and against your clit so perfectly. His eyes widened, and he let out a guttural moan, the feeling of your slickness against him becoming too much to bear. He could feel your arousal coating his cock, and he desperately wanted to be inside you. 

“Fuck…you’re so wet…so hot..” he gasped out, his hands gripping your thighs even tighter. 

The feeling of his hands gripping you in pleasure and need just added to the feeling, causing you to speed up your movements and applying more pressure, needing to feel him against you more. His hands gripped your thighs tight enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if they left a bruise, the pressure and friction against his cock becoming almost unbearable. He could feel his release building up inside him, but he fought it, not wanting this moment to end. 

“Please..I need more, I need to be inside you, I need to feel you clenching around me,” he pleaded, his foggy mind causing him to whine. You couldn’t agree more. He let out a gasp as you grabbed his cock and positioned it at your entrance, the feeling of the tip pressing against your slick heat sending shivers down his spine. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to continue. 

“Please…please let me inside. I’ll do anything,” he pathetically whimpered. 

You slowly lowered yourself onto him, causing him to let out a frustrated groan as you teased him. He could feel his cock twitching as you slowly took him, desperate for more.

“You’re torturing me..please..I need to feel all of you,” he begged, his hands returning to your hips and desperately grabbing at them. You wanted to scold him again, but felt as if you teased him enough, so you let it slide as you finally sank down on him. 

Nick let out a loud moan as your hips met, the feeling of your tight walls enveloping him was overwhelming. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to hold back from thrusting up into you.

“Oh..god..you feel so good,” he gasped out, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your core, causing his eyes to shoot back to you as you pressed his fingers against your clit. Quickly understanding, he began rubbing circled against your sensitive nub as you began moving up and down. 

“Oh yes..just like that,” he groaned, his other hand gripping your hip tightly as he tried to hold on for as long as possible. 

A low moan left your lips. The feeling of him filling you up so perfectly, mixed with him rubbing your clit was mind-numbing. You involuntarily clenched around him in pleasure, causing a strangled moan to leave his lips. The feeling of your walls tightening around him almost sending him over the edge. He continued rubbing you, but his movements became more erratic as he fought to hold back his own release. 

“You’re so tight… squeezing me so good..” he gasped out, his eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside you. 

You couldn’t fight back the sounds that wanted to escape your lips. He just felt so good and you could feel yourself getting closer. You just needed a little more. 

“Nick?” you whimpered out, causing his eyes to shoot up and meet yours with a dark look of desire. 

“Yes, my love?” he asked, his voice hoarse with need. He continued rubbing you, his fingers moving faster and harder against you, hoping to bring you closer to your release. You had to fight back gasps as you said the words you knew he wanted to hear. 

“Fuck me,” you sternly pleaded, needing him to take over. His eyes widened at your plea, his heart racing in his chest. He had been holding back for so long, so he couldn’t resist any longer.

“With pleasure,” he growled as his hand moved back to your hip, his grip tightening as he began to thrust up into you, meeting your movements with powerful strokes. 

Instantly, loud moans left your lips as you brought your hands up to his chest, leaning on him for support as you gave him full control. He groaned as you gave him a better angle to thrust into you. He could feel your body trembling, and he knew you were getting close. 

“That’s it, baby…Let go. I’ve got you,” he grunted, his thrusts becoming faster and harder as he pounded into you relentlessly, finally not having to hold back anymore. 

Your eyes squeezed shut and your eyebrows furrowed as pleasure coursed through your body with each thrust. Your release was approaching faster and faster. He could feel you clenching around him, and he knew you were getting close. 

“You’re so close, I can feel it. Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you cum all over my cock,” he growled, his own release rapidly approaching. 

With a few more thrusts, you came undone. A loud moan fell from your lips as your head dropped and pleasure took over your body. Nick watched as your body shook in pleasure and he let out a loud groan as he felt your walls spasming around him, the sensation officially pushing him over the edge. 

“F-fuck,” he grunted, his hips stuttering as he thrust up into you a few more times before spilling himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside you. 

Another loud moan left your lips as you felt his hot cum spill into you. You involuntarily clenched around him more, milking every last drop before collapsing onto his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel your heart beating wildly against his own, and he couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of being so close to you. 

“Fuck…that was amazing,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse from exertion. He ran his fingers through your hair and gently stroked your back as he basked in the afterglow of your orgasms.

Once you both finally calmed down, your heartbeats gradually slowing down as you came down from your high, he pressed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, feeling a wave of affection wash over him. 

“You’re amazing, my love,” he murmured against your hair, his fingers still gently running through it. You hummed at his praise and affection, bathing in the dopamine. He chuckled softly at your response, his hands now tracing soothing circles on your back. 

“You’re so quiet now. I think I wore you out,” he teased. A smirk formed on your lips. There was no way you were going to let him bask in that small moment of dominance. You looked up at him and placed a hand on his cheek, ready to pull out your winning move. 

“Yeah, you were such a good boy, Nick,” you said softly, giving him a proud look. His eyes widened and he felt a slight shiver run down his spine, loving the praise. 

“You think I’m a good boy?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice as he leaned into your touch. You softly brushed your thumb against his cheek. 

“Such a good boy. Listening to me and making me feel so good,” you said with a teasing seductive tone, softly clenching around him still inside you to really prove your point. He let out a low moan, his cock still sensitive from his orgasm. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of pleasure at your words and actions. 

“Oh god..don’t..don’t do that. You’re gonna get me worked up again,” he groaned, his grip on you tightening slightly as he tried to control himself. You giggled mischievously at his reaction. 

“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” you asked playfully. Nick shook his head, a mixture of amusement and frustration on his face. 

“No, we wouldn’t. But you’re making it so hard to behave right now,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. He shifted slightly underneath you, trying to adjust himself so he wasn’t so sensitive, but it was difficult with you still wrapped around him. You hummed, amused. He was just making this too easy. 

“You’re a good boy, Nick, I know you’ll behave,” you said softly as you ‘absentmindedly’ shifted into a ‘more comfortable position’, so your hips were slightly raised, him still halfway inside you.

Nick let out a soft groan, his cock twitching as you shifted. He could feel your breath on his chest, and the feeling of your body pressed against him was driving him crazy. He tried to calm himself down, taking deep breaths and focusing on your words. 

“I’m trying..but it’s not easy when you’re being so tempting,” he muttered, his hands moving to your hips, gently rubbing circles against your skin. 

You giggled softly. This wasn’t anywhere near over for him. He was smug now, but you were going to break him until he cried. With your head still lying on his chest and a sweet smile on your lips, you very slowly started moving your hips. Pressing them down torturously slow so he sank back into you, then lifting them so he dragged back out of you. He let out a strangled moan, the slow and deliberate movements driving him crazy. He gripped you hips tightly, trying to control himself as you teased him. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he groaned out, his eyes closed as he tried to focus on anything but the feeling of your body against his. 

“Just be a good boy and ignore me,” you said sweetly as you continued your movements, loving the feeling of him slowly dragging in and out of you. 

He let out a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought to follow your instructions. He desperately wanted to thrust up into you, to take control and make you his, but he knew that you were testing him. And he couldn’t let himself disobey your orders. 

“It’s not that easy,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on the way your ass moved up and down on him. 

“Just think of anything but the feeling of your cock slowly pumping in and out of me,” you teased, your tone full of faux innocence. His eyes darkened at your words and he let out a frustrated huff. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Torturing me like this?” he asked, his voice laced with both desire and annoyance. He tried to think of anything else, but everytime he closed his eyes, all he could see was the image of you riding him. 

“Torturing you would be forcing you to stop touching me again,” you teased, a mischievous smile forming on your face. His grip on your hips tightened as his eyes snapped open and looked at you. 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice low and serious. You were right, but he was already struggling to control himself as is. 

Hearing his challenge, you lifted yourself so now you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, able to easily rock back and forth to continue teasing him. His breath hitched in his throat, this angle making it even more difficult to resist the urge to thrust up into you. You looked straight into his eyes with a mischievous look. 

“Don’t challenge me, love. I absolutely will if I have to,” you said, your tone condescending yet seductive. 

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” he growled, his voice low and husky. Despite his frustration, he couldn’t help but find your confidence and control arousing. You brought your hand to his jaw and held it, forcing him to look at you. 

“Now now. Don’t be mean. I could make this absolute torture for you,” you said sternly with a smirk. His eyes narrowed as his gaze was locked on yours. He knew you had the upper hand in this situation, but he couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and excitement at your dominance, wanting to test it. 

“And what exactly would you do to me, hm?” he asked, his voice dripping with defiance. You raised an eyebrow at his tone. 

“You really wanna know?” you asked, your tone both teasing yet threatening. His expression darkened, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. 

“Yes, I do. I want to know what you’d do to punish me for being mean,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He couldn’t resist the temptation to push your buttons, even if it meant getting himself in trouble. 

You let out a huff at his bratty attitude. Within a blink of an eye, you grabbed his wrists and held them above his head as you fully sunk down on him, using your body weight as leverage to keep him pinned. He gasped as you moved. He struggled against your grip, but found that he couldn’t break free. And the feeling of being completely inside of you again caused a moan to rumble deep in his chest. 

“Oh god..you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes locked on yours with a mixture of desire and frustration. You leaned down so your lips were close to his ear. 

“You tested me. You wanted to be a naughty boy, so now you’re stuck like this,” you whispered harshly into his ear, causing him to shuttered and tense beneath you. He couldn’t tell if he hated being restrained like this, or if it turned him on even more. 

“I-I didn’t mean to be naughty. I can’t help myself when you’re being such a brat,” he protested weakly, his hips twitching as he tried to move against you. 

He was really pushing his luck now. You tightly clenched around him in punishment as he called you a brat again. He let out a low groan, the feeling of your tight walls gripping him making it difficult for him to think straight. He finally gave in.

“Watch it.” you said sternly. 

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a brat. You’re just so damn irresistible when you’re in control like this,” he whimpered out, a hint of frustration in his tone. 

“I’m glad you enjoy it, because now you’re stuck like this. I’m not moving,” you said harshly. He let out a frustrated whine at your words. 

“You can’t leave me like this. I need more. I need to feel you moving on me,” he pleaded, his hips shifting beneath you in a futile attempt to get some friction. You just pressed your hips into his more as your grip on his wrists tightened.

“I can do as I please. And it’s not so bad right? Feeling my tight pussy around you as you’re restrained to the bed. You get to think about the way you came in me. The way you thrusted in me and how I moaned in pleasure. The way my body shook as I came around your cock,” you whispered in his ear, your voice both seductive and menacing.

He let out a low whine as you effectively immobilized him. Your words sent shivers down his spine and he could feel his cock twitch inside you as he thought about everything you said. 

“You’re evil,” he whined, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he struggled against your grip on his wrists. 

“That’s what you get when you’re a naughty boy. You’re lucky you even get to feel me. I could tie you to this bed as I play with my pussy in front of you and never let you touch me,” you whispered menacingly into his ear. His eyes widened at your threat, and he felt a pang of desperation in his chest. 

“No, no, please don’t do that. I’ll be good, I probably. I’ll be your good boy,” he said quickly, his voice a pleading whine. The thought of being denied any further contact with you was too much to bear. 

“Oh? So you wanna be a good boy again?” you ask condescendingly. He nodded vigorously, his expression full of submission. 

“Yes, yes, I do. I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your good boy, your obedient slave. Just please, please let me touch you. Let me feel you,” he begged, his voice trembling with desperation. A small amused huff left your lips. 

“Sorry, my love. You haven’t proved yourself just yet. But I’ll give you a chance. No touching. No moving. Got it?” you asked him sternly. He let out a frustrated growl, but nodded in defeat. 

“I got it. No touching and no moving. I’ll stay still like a good boy,” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. He was desperate for your touch, but he knew he had to obey your rules if he wanted any chance of being rewarded. 

You let out a hum of appreciation as you began moving your hips again. He let out a sigh of relief, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to move. Instead, he focused on your words and kept his hands firmly pinned above his head, even though every fiber in his being was screaming for him to try and touch you.

You two finished cleaning yourselves up and getting dressed again. You were cuddling on his bed, whispering sweet things to him, praising him and complimenting him. Telling him how good he was and how pretty his eyes looked when he looked up at you like that. He just softly hummed at your praise, staring up at you in adoration as you spoke. 

That’s when you heard the door downstairs close and a stampede of feet come into the house, causing you two to scramble up and out of his bed. You both took one last look at yourselves, making sure the previous event wasn’t painstakingly obvious, before opening his bedroom door and going back to the places you were before. Him on his laptop and you nonchalantly scrolling on his bed. 

You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and turned to the door to see a smiling Noah appear. 

“Show me the new tat,” he said excitedly, causing you to laugh.

You sat up and lifted your shirt, holding it right below your bra. He got closer and looked at it smiling. 

“That’s sick! It really fits you. Nick did a good job,” he said as he examined it. You smiled and turned to Nick, who was watching you two. 

“Yeah. He did really good,” you said, secretly winking at Nick since Noah’s eyes were focused on your new piece. 

Nick blushed and turned back to his laptop as Noah stood back up and looked at you. But then his eyes caught something. 

“And what’s that?” he said, a smirk forming on his face as he pointed to your neck. The fresh love bite, still forming on your skin.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Domestic Living With Jason 🩳

⚣🩳 A/N → I'm physically incapable of writing anything under 500 words. But, this was inspired by my love of compression shirts (especially the Under Armor ones and how I would do exactly this if my boyfriend tried to walk out wearing one). May start a series off this, we'll see. Warnings: Domestic Vibes. Married Energy. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Petty Jason.

⚣🩳 Summary → Domestic life is something. Domestic life with Jason Todd is another thing. One moment, you're ready to fight this man. Next moment, you're ready to fight this man. *wink wink* Wait, hold up. Jason, what the hell are you wearing?!

⚣🩳 Words → 1.5K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🩳

“Jason, hurry up! I need to get back so I can finish this essay.” Y/N yelled from the living room of his and his boyfriend’s shared apartment.

If you asked him a year ago what he figured living with his boyfriend would be like, he’d more than likely answer with a lot of freaking sex. Of course, other things came with it, but that was the first thing that always came to mind.

It also came with a lot of stay-at-home dates. Jason was unsurprisingly a natural homebody and loved to spend his evenings when he could with his lovely boyfriend cuddled against his body while watching a movie or playing a game and munching down on some takeout.

Truthfully, it was nice seeing how Jason was in a domestic situation. It served as a reminder to Y/N that under all those scars, grumpiness, and tough exterior was just a boy who wanted to be loved.

On the other end, living with Jason made Y/N take a long, hard look in the mirror and reflect on all the bad habits he had when living at home with his parents and starting college. For example, time management…

Before he started dating Jason, Y/N was the kind of person who waited till twenty minutes before he had to leave to start getting dressed. Whenever someone would text him and ask for his location, he’d respond telling them he was leaving the house now.

Then, when he was actually leaving the house and they’d text him again, he’d respond saying he was on the freeway. Truly, the best example of what not to do when he wanted to be on time somewhere.

After he started dating Jason though, and especially when they moved in together, Y/N sent a long apology to his parents who had tried for years to teach him better time management. The crazy thing about that was when they asked him why he was apologizing and he explained that Jason’s time management made him look like an angel, they didn’t believe him!

In their eyes, Jason was a saint who could do no wrong. Which was ironic considering Y/N’s dad promised to castrate any man who dared even look his son’s way. And his mom, well, not sure that’s really appropriate to mention.

Yet, when it came to Mr. Jason Peter Todd, he might as well have been hand-delivered from God himself. Maybe it was because his boyfriend could and would be late to anything else in the world (Lord knows Bruce went through hell and back just to get him to be on time for family dinner), but if it was anything involving Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, he was twenty minutes early with a gift he picked up from the local Target.

It also could be that Jason was the world’s biggest kiss-ass (when he needed to be) and used that to wrap Y/N’s parents around his finger. Either or…

But now, since they were only going to the gym, Jason was of course taking his sweet time to get ready, which, every passing second was another snap of one of Y/N’s nerves. Truthfully, he would’ve just grabbed his keys and left without him, but the last time he did that, Jason went and bought a steering-wheel clutch to put on his car and hid the keys from him for two weeks.

Another thing Y/N’s parents would never believe about their son’s beloved boyfriend; the fucker was petty as hell.

“I’m coming, babe! Be out in a sec,” Jason yelled from behind their bedroom door.

“You said that five minutes ago!”

“Sorry, I don’t recall. Maybe you imagined it.”

This gaslighting motherfu–

Y/N had to take a deep breath to calm his growing impulsive need to bust down that door and slap the fuck out of his boyfriend’s neck. It didn’t help…

“You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend,” Y/N mumbled to himself while tapping his foot against the floor repeatedly to distract himself from the ticking seconds passing by in his mind.

Two minutes later, the door opened and revealed his tall and bulky man looking ever so fresh and handsome. Though Y/N was still irritated beyond belief, the sight of his boyfriend’s handsome face who grew a smile and twinkle in his eyes when he looked at him always managed to dissipate his temper.

Not by much though. Jason’s neck still looked like a very bright and large target just waiting for a good sting from the palm of his hands.

Maybe Tim was right, they were a match made in heaven just off violent tendencies alone.

“That was not a sec,” Y/N reprimanded in a grumble.

Jason’s smile turned into a self-satisfied grin while he walked past his boyfriend to their coat closet, grabbing his abnormally large gym shoes. Seriously, what size is this man’s foot?

“Hey, it’s not my fault you waited till the last day to finish your homework.” He replied while tying his shoe.

“Um, actually it is. Every time I tried to sit down and work on it, you’d either start complaining about how I wasn’t paying any attention to you or you’d get randomly horny and start touching me in ways that shall not be named and I’d end up with your dick inside me.”

Y/N immediately regretted his words when he saw how Jason looked up from finishing his last shoe, a lustful blown look on his face as he eyed his body up and down. Thankfully, he didn’t seem like he was about to act on his impulses as he kept tying his shoe without looking before standing back up.

Why was that hot?

“Sounds like you need to practice self-control, sir.”

Oh, no he didn’t.

“Sir, I was already tempted to smack the back of your neck before. I beg you to not increase that urge.”

“Do it. I dare you,” Jason challenged, standing right in front of him with his towering frame. The tone in his voice and the look on his face were signaling something that Y/N was very tempted to answer, but he had to keep rationality in the forefront of his mind.

“You not worth it,” He responded, side-stepping him while going to grab his jacket.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Sir, don’t get fu–”

It was at that moment Y/N took a full look at his boyfriend, specifically what he was wearing. And while the sight was something he wouldn’t mind staring at, he definitely didn’t want other people staring at him.

“Excuse me, but what in the hell are you wearing?” Y/N asked, still looking him up and down.

Jason looked confused for a moment, also looking at his outfit, not seeing what the problem was.

“Um, a shirt and sweats? Is this a trick question or,”

“Why is it so tight? Who are you trying to show off for?”

This man was wearing a black compression shirt and gray joggers like it was just a regular Sunday. The Lord is watching, how dare he?!

Jason’s smirk immediately came back when he realized what he was really about, “Oh, what? I can’t wear tight clothes now to the gym?”

“Not unless you want me to fight bitches. Because, just in case you forgot, I do fight bitches.”

“Language, or I’m telling mom. And I like it when you fight over me,” He said while grabbing at Y/N’s waist.

He immediately popped the vigilante’s hands off him, “Don’t involve my mother in and hands off mister.”

“Our mother, thank you,” Jason corrected.

“It’s giving incestuous, and last time I checked, there is no ring on this finger and my last name is not Todd.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Y/N was sat.

“I-, that was really hot and we’re gonna move on from that,” Y/N responded, and Jason once again had a cocky smirk on his face. Lord knows this man was more than likely dead serious. He’d drop everything and drive to a ring shop right now.

“Anyway, you need to go change sir. I don’t need them dirty, mud-bathing rats staring at what is for my eyes only.” Y/N responded, pointing back to their bedroom waiting for Jason to move.

“Oh, so I need to go change, but when you were wearing those tiny shorts, showing off what’s supposed to be for my eyes only, I got told to mind the business that pays me,” Jason asked with a laugh.

“Are you on my payroll?” Y/N questioned.

“No.”

“My point still stands.”

“You think you’re funny,”

“I think I’m hilarious, actually. In fact, I’m so funny, I’m going to get the extra small shorts I just got in the mail since you want to play with me.” Y/N turned around and sprinted for their bedroom.

“Oh, I’ll play all day,” Jason mumbled under his breath before throwing their gym bags down to the ground and kicking off his shoes before following his boyfriend into the room.

They did not make it to the gym, but they definitely got their workout in.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️