#even if it's just a rough first (second) draft

[mikkomacko]

Reader x mob!boss Nico (also sorry if that's wrong, this is my first request for the series) but something angst smut maybe after Nico comes from the gym?

A/n: This has been in my inbox for literally months I am so sorry it took me so long to write this omg 🫶 but for those of you worried I ignored your blurb requests, they’re probably just in my drafts still lmao

I changed this up a bit but I hope you still love it!

Warnings: smut, jealous Nico, angry Nico

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Nico doesn’t have exes. He’s got old hook-ups and one night stands, girls that clearly come to the Rock looking for him. They’ve all heard about how hot the Devils boss is, as well as the Devils themselves.

It never bothered you.

Nico never had anything with them, at least nothing real, so you never thought you’d have to worry about jealousy between you and Nico. At least nothing beyond the light hearted pouting he does when you’re with Johnny or the way you attach yourself to his hip when girls are obviously flirting with him.

Until an old face made an appearance at the Rock.

You blame Jack for it, honestly. It was harmless, Tyson was harmless other than Nico recognizing the name as soon as you stumbled upon your old boyfriend at the bar. It was one of the first personal stories Nico ever heard about you. Your high school boyfriend, your first love, your first heartbreak. You dated him for a while, fell in love, decided to celebrate your year anniversary together by finally doing it. The universal act of love, the infamous first time from every rom-com.

Except there was nothing romantic or comedic about it at all. It was below average sex, the build up lasted longer than the act itself, and you felt so empty, so disappointed afterwards that you had burst into tears as soon as Tyson was off of you. He panicked, got dressed and basically ran out the door saying he'd check on you later. Later came the next day when he broke up with you, saying you were too much for him and should be with someone who could handle you.

Nico hated Tyson enough as is just for that story. And then he hated him even more when he strolled up to you at the bar and acted like old friends, chatting with you even as you tried to keep conversation quick. You know Nico would've scared Tyson off in a matter of seconds, but you wanted to be civil, so you let him hang with his arm around your shoulders, sipping his beer with a brooding look as Tyson babbled about his life to you.

And you were just about to excuse yourself when Jack ambled up to Nico and asked, "who's the douche?" Which just egged on your boyfriend, his temper already flaring and he shot Tyson a dirty look.

"Her ex."

"Ouch," Jack winced, then patted Nico on the shoulder and leaned into his ear. "She has a type, I'll tell you that."

It was just loud enough for you to hear, turning to Jack with a glare and to hopefully placate Nico but it was all for nothing. He was already angry, already boiling over with a jealousy you've never seen. Denying Jack's statement was only going to make it worse, even though the stupid boy was fucking with Nico. The only thing Nico and Tyson had in common was their dark eyes, and even then Nico's are far darker, hold more depth, are more beautiful.

"Sorry Tyler," Nico spits, not even attempting to be polite or genuine in his 'mishap" on the name. "We've gotta go."

Nico's dragging you away after that, hand on the back of your neck and even though he's jerky and rough as he guides you around the bar and down the hall, his hold isn't mean or hurting. Just demanding.

Swiftly, Nico shoves you through the door into the office, kicking it shut behind him and flicking the lock. You weren't going to say anything, knowing words right now would do nothing for Nico. He accepts and expresses love through physical acts. You two are working on the words thing, but when he's upset like this, it's best to stick what's fool proof.

His hands grab at your face, cupping your jaw and dragging you forward, smashing his lips to yours in a fierce, biting kiss. And you just let him, holding the sides of his neck in your careful hands, easily letting him lead you further into the office until your thighs hit the desk. They’ve barely touched the hardwood before he’s grabbing at your thighs, hefting you onto the desk with effortless strength.

You know Nico is strong, have seen him in the gym, have seen him moving boxes and furniture, have seen him fighting. And you’ve felt it firsthand. Yet every time it takes your breath away, reminds of you that you’re with a man now, not some silly boy like Tyson and all the other average Joes before Nico.

It sends a wave of heat down your spine and straight to your core, arousal pooling in your belly and suddenly it’s like you’re so fucking empty and useless, like you’re life’s mission is to get Nico as deep into your pussy as he could possibly get. How you ever lived without him between your thighs, you don’t know.

“Nico,” you whisper, pleadingly, whimpering when he bites your lip in retaliation. His eyes are dark and demanding when he looks at you, bordering on anger but you know him better.

He just wants your attention. He wants you.

“Don’t talk to me,” he scolds, then almost dismissively he grabs at the bottom of your shirt and starts to haul it up and over your head. “Not after you made me stand there with that fucking hodensniterin and play nice.”

Knowing better, knowing you’ll get him the way you want if you sit there and let him go about his way, you comply as he throws your shirt to the floor, already working his over his head.

You don’t even realize you’ve moved until Nico is staring down at you, an unimpressed look in his eyes. “Now you want me?” He goads, wrapping a hand around your wrist and stopping you from trailing your fingers any further over his abdomen. “You want to touch me?”

You’re nodding along before he’s even finished speaking, brain already going fuzzy from how needy you feel. It’s like all your brain can think about is him, all you can see is him, all you want is him. His name forms on your tongue again and you have to bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your mouth to stay shut.

Meanly, he laughs, yanking you up to your feet by the wrist. Like a rag doll you go with him, flung and maneuvered around so swiftly it catches you off guard when your elbows hit the desk, cushioned by something. Blinking a few times, you look down and realize Nico has thrown his shirt over the hardwood, bunched up as padding under you.

It’s such a sweet thing for him to do, not unexpected of him even when he’s like this, but it still makes your body flush with heat.

“Too fucking bad,” he continues, “I’m doing the touching. Not you.”

Like it’s instinct, you arch back into Nico when you feel the heat of his body get close to you. He chuckles lowly, barely skimming the palm of his hand over your ass but flinching away when you press back into him.

Tears of frustration sting at your eyes, desperation burning in your skin. If he’d just let you talk, let you tell him how badly you want him, how much you need him inside of you right now it’d be fine. But he’s in a mood and already told you not to talk to him.

His fingers hook into the band of your skirt and underwear, the pads of them rough and warm as they drag across your skin. In one pull he's yanking both over the globes of your ass and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up around your ankles.

The air is cold on your newly exposed skin, raises goosebumps on your skin and you shiver, squeezing your thighs together to preserve some heat in your burning core, and subtly relive some of the throbbing in your clit. Nico reacts before you can even let out a hum of satisfaction, wedging a hand between your thighs and smacking them back open.

"Spread them," he demands, shoving his foot between yours now for insurance. You groan, hiding your face in your arms and biting into the meat of your forearm to silence yourself. Apparently that's the wrong move too though because Nico bumps his knee into the back of yours. "Nuh-uh, hands now."

Begrudgingly, you slip your arms around to your back, pressing your wrists together. Chest and cheek flat on the desk, the new position pulls at the stretched muscles of your legs, the ache just enough to make you throb even more.

His left hand gathers yours in one, long fingers holding them together by the wrist, and he presses down into the small of your back. You whimper, more out of embarrassment and neediness than pain but Nico sills for a moment, his right hand stroking over your ass gently.

"You ok?" He checks, voice a quiet murmur and you take a mental check of your body. It's a little degrading being thrown and bent over his desk like this, ass up for him to do as he pleases, but it stings in the best way possible. You trust Nico, know that even when he's got you exposed and vulnerable like this he would never go too far, even though he could.

It's exhilerating.

"Tell me baby," Nico encourages, settling his hand on the seam of skin where your thigh meets the bottom of your ass.

"I'm ok," you say, closing your eyes and breathing in the cologne on his shirt, the rich scent of him. It's soothing and you quickly amend, "I'm perfect, Schao."

You can picture the pleased smile on his face, the dimple it carves into his cheek.

"Good girl," he purrs, dragging his thumb through your folds. The sudden touch sends a shock wave through you, hips canting and rising to your toes to give him better access to your swollen and desperate clit.

"S'this all you needed to be nice to me again?" Nico skips over where you want him the most, going back to thumbing at your hole teasingly. "To pay attention to me instead of that cock-sucker out there?"

You're not sure if your allowed to talk again, so you bite your tongue, sucking in quivering breathes of air through your nose to stay grounded. I was just being polite, you want to say, to defend yourself. I hate him and I love you Nico.

Torturously slow, Nico dips his thumb between your folds, sinking into just the knuckle and you hold your breathe, scared that any sudden movement will spook him into stopping.

He pumps his thumb in shallow movements, careful and calculated. It's not everything you want from him but it's something, a content breath puffing out of your nose.

"Thinks he knows you," Nico mutters, more to himself than you. He pulls back, his thumb suddenly disappearing and you whine, pussy clenching down on nothing. Thankfully, Nico doesn't care about the bratty noise enough to scold you. He silences you with two thick fingers, shoving them into you up so abruptly you flinch, digging your cheek further into his shirt.

"He doesn't," Nico says, louder this time like he's trying to remind you. It goes in one ear and out the other, your mind to preoccupied with the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. He pets at the sensitive sponge part of you, curling his fingers to hit it dead on and your knees shake.

"He doesn't know how to bend you over like this, how to take you apart like I do, does he?"

Your fingers clench into fists, stomach clenching and every push of Nico's finger stretching you pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm. His hand on your wrists tightens, holding you in place and then his fucking his fingers into you faster. Your orgasm crashes over you, white stars bursting behind closed eyes.

He's still talking to himself, muttering stuff under his breath and stroking you through your high. Your thighs quiver and shake, the insides of them damp with it and your knees fully give out, leaving you a heap on the desk. The pounding in your ears must have blocked out the sound of Nico's zipper and the drop of his jeans, because your caught of guard when his fingers have only left you for a second before the weeping head of his cock is prodding at your pussy.

In one swift motion he buries himself in you, stretching your walls as his hips sit tightly against your ass. You feel useless, boneless after your orgasm, only able to lay there and take it. It's so nice you could cry, sniffling as Nico pulls back and fucks into you, a raw moan ripping from his throat.

"Fuck so perfect for me," he compliments, setting a fast and brutal pace. Your thighs and hips smack into the desk so harshly they'll definitely be sore tomorrow if not bruised too. His other hand grabs at your side, holding you so tightly you can feel his fingers between your ribs, painfully keeping you still.

"Just for me, fucking made for me."

You gasp, arch further into his strong body as your walls flutter around him. "All for you Nico," you mumble submissively, hoping to god that that's what he wants from you, that he wants to hear you. He groans in approval, the sound wrecked and rough. "Just want you, only ever want you, Nico."

Somehow he picks up the pace, fucking into you even harder and in the back of your mind you wonder where the fuck he got such a sturdy desk. Pressing his chest to your back, Nico sweeps your hair to the side, his lips finding the side of your neck.

"He had you first," he says low, breath hot against your ear "but I get you forever, right?"

Desperately, you nod, another orgasm building in the base of your belly. "Forever," you confirm. "He had me first, you'll be the last to have me Nico."

Sweetly, Nico kisses your temple. "Tell me," he request, now kissing at your jaw. "I want to hear more baby."

The juxtaposition of his cock fucking you into next week and his mouth being so sweet and soft cuts through you, leaves you raw and exposed to him. You knees shake again, thighs quivering as your high gets closer and closer, stronger now that he's already left you used and sensitive.

"He was the first to have me," you choke out, Nico's mouth ghosting over your cheek as he waits with bated breath. "but you were the first to have me raw, boss."

Nico makes a wounded sound, like he'd been punched in the gut and his hips stutter for a moment before picking up the same pace. He captures your mouth in a biting kiss, licking into your mouth with such dominance and control it sends you over the edge.

He fucks you through it, rocking his hips a few more times before he too stills, buried to the hilt as he comes. You pulse around him, greedily accept everything he pumps into you with absolutely no resistance. Nico kisses at your slack mouth, mumbling soft praises as you come down from your second orgasm.

"So good, baby. You did so good for me," he dots kisses under your eye, dragging his fingers across the skin and you blink your eyes open, realize your eyelashes are clumpy with tears and he's drying your cheeks for you.

"Nico," you cry, legs and hips aching, the edge of the desk digging into your skin uncomfortably He shifts, taking his weight off of you and releasing your hands. They prickle with pins and needly, the blood rushing back to them as they fall to your sides, numbly.

"I got you sweet girl," he assures, kissing down your back. Your in a haze as he pulls his jeans and boxers back up, then helps ease your underwear and skirt back into place. You make a noise complaint, needing to at least clean up a little bit but you don't make a move to do anything.

"You're fine," Nico tells you, slipping a hand under your stomach to drag you up from the desk. "Can sit out there with me dripping from you, yeah? Want you to remember who takes such good care of you now."

Like mush, you let Nico turn and sit you on the desk again, swiping his black shirt from the surface. He looks so pretty standing over you, cheeks flush and glowing, eyes still dark with arousal. His hair falls a little flat over his forehead, a crooked and boyish smile on his face.

"Yeah," you agree, still dazed as he uses his shirt to wipe under your eyes and around your lips, cleaning the spit remaining from his mouth.

Nico leans down, kisses between your eyes in a move so soft and fluttering it tickles, makes you blush like a school girl. "You're never too much," he promises, recalling the reason why Tyson had broken up with you. "You are everything. So pretty when you come, when you cry for me like that. I live for it."

Your heart aches in your chest, his kind words drawing a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. It had been something that followed you, an insecurity always in the back of your mind. You accepted whatever love you could get because you thought that was it. You were too much, they couldn't offer you more and you couldn't ask for more.

Until Nico.

"I love you Schao."

He smiles all handsome and precious, smoothing your hair down with a gentle hand. "Love you more, my baby."

You fall forward into his stomach, cheek pressing into the damp skin on his ribs. You want to hug him but your arms are still regaining their feeling and your legs are tired right now, so you settle for lazily wrapping an arm around his thighs.

“What’s a hodensniterin?”

He snickers, hand on your head, protectively. “Ball fucker.”

[mossangelll]

is that hyperpigmentation?

arcane characters x reader

basically what the title says, you draw the arcane characters à la hyperpigmentation 😍 i needed smth silly to work on to get me out of my writing rut, hope you enjoy :p

content: gn!reader, reader is their partner (could be seen as platonic/child reader but i think most of, if not all, the hcs allude or explicitly call reader their partner - sorry!)

Jinx

she LOVES it

as an artist, engineer, overall creator she can really appreciate the more wacky expressions of art

she does a whole art critique (barely a critique tbh) and pretends to be some stuffy piltie talking about the genius and emotion behind the artwork

“ya know, toots, i’m reaaallyyyy enjoying what ya did with that…um, splodge? on my face there. yeah!”

she draws her own version but this time it’s a portrait of you

you swap them and have a cute little date where you colour the pictures in together and add details in the background

by the end, jinx’s workshop is covered in glue and glitter and paint and powder and also for some reason silly string

jinx even makes frames from scratch so they can be hung up - they’re probably the most nicely presentee decoration she has in her place

Ekko

you slide the portrait of him over to his side of the table in silence

he looks down absently and has to do a double take

“this is…me?” he asks hesitantly with his eyes widened like a deer in headlights; a look you rarely ever see from him - you nod and confirm his fears

“we have one tree down here. paper’s expensive. remember that.”

walks away and goes about his duties helping the firelights and though you suspect he might be upset, he did take the picture with him

feels so guilty about his reaction he almost sacks himself into a wall as he rides his hover board

later that night he apologises and makes a show of sticking the picture on his bedroom wall (in the corner he can barely see of course)

Vi

she’s been in prison and seen some interesting tattoos but this takes the cake

spends a good ten minutes staring at it whilst rubbing her chin as if that’s gonna make it look better

asks you if this was the rough draft

she’s smooth though so she basically tells you she hates it but in a way that you don’t even realise - you’re too busy being seduced to notice

“i love how wild your imagination is babe 😍”

vi keeps the picture and shows jinx; needless to say, this portrait becomes famous

kids all through the lanes have a challenge where they find all the weird faces jinx spray painted everywhere

vi pretends to act dumb as if she doesn’t know how jinx got ahold of them but you both know what happened LMAO

Caitlyn

she laughs in your face

she probably just had an argument with her mum over being an enforcer so she really needed this to lighten her spirits

teases you over it but accepts it gracefully because she’s a kiramman and those manners have been engrained into her

keeps it in her room as a joke and everything’s seemingly ok

except she can’t stop looking at it

and then looking at her reflection in the mirror

starts to question reality because she knows there’s no way she looks like that but if so, why would you draw it in the first place 😭

then she enters the mad stage and she confronts you about this thing called negging she discovered

it’s a loooooong night but don’t worry it ends in lots of laughter and giggles

she understands it wasn’t serious and was just projecting her stress onto the picture

but then this starts a new tradition where you two draw daily doodles of each other; sometimes with stupid faces, other times as animals, whatever you two are feeling really

Mel

the woman was too stunned to speak

no, she’s literally speechless for a good minute or two as you hold it out for her

she eventually takes the portrait from your hands but does it in a way where you’d think it was going to explode the second she touches it

she tries her best to smile and be graceful about it, years of etiquette training being tested but even this is a bit excessive

she finds a way to dodge actually having to tell you it looks bad but also dodges telling you that it looks good too - she’s a lot of things but she’s not a liar 😭

she’s incredibly diplomatic

the very next day she’s introducing you to an absolutely fabulous painter who just happened to make an impromptu visit but has just enough time to run a session (or multiple) with you!

how serendipitous is this!

never again will she receive a portrait from you like hyperpigmentation

Jayce

“oh wow this is for me?”

you handed this to him in the busy academy building in front of SOOO many people and now his face is red

his teeth are gritted, hand rubbing the back of his neck and if you look closely there’s even beads of sweat dripping down his forehead

you’ve got this man stressed out

takes like 20 minutes trying to tell you that he’s not too sure if this is exactly his style

internally he’s crying for help because he just wants to get out of this situation

he loves you don’t get it wrong but this has never happened to him before and it’s not like they’ve got a guidebook on this stuff

eventually admits defeat and accepts the portrait

it’s probably in the break room and although he isn’t particularly fond of it, he won’t stand for anyone saying mean things about what you made

that is until you tell him it was all a joke in the first place and you never thought he would actually accept it considering how shitty it was

yeah, he allowed everyone a ten minute free for all where they could slander the picture after that

he is gonna give you silent treatment for all of an hour before he can’t stand it anymore and he asks you not to pull pranks like that on him again with tears in his eyes 😭

Viktor

viktor is chronically ill AND chronically overworked

gonna be real, he sees the portrait and doesn’t even think anything of it

like, he’s so sleep deprived that he’s constantly squinting and so to him, it low-key looks like him

you even got his beauty mark right too! most people forget that detail!

it’s only after a good few weeks of having the picture on his bedside table and actually, finally, getting eight hours of sleep that he properly looks at the picture and

who the fuck is that

but at this point it’s too late, it’s already in a frame next to the bed you two share and there’s no way he can discretely get rid of it without you noticing

stages an accident where his cane “accidentally” happens to slip and somehow punt the picture frame right out the window with surprising accuracy

he gives you those puppy dog eyes and tells you how sad he is but that he’ll survive so don’t worry!

can’t even feel guilty about the situation because the moment the portrait is gone he stops having nightmares

Silco

another one who is speechless

if you were anyone else, he would’ve berated you so badly you would want to quit by the end of it

unfortunately you’re someone he loves so he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place

the thing is, he really does appreciate that you went through the effort of drawing a picture of him since it reminds him that perhaps his love isn’t as one-sided as he fears

so he really does want to have it framed and put up on his desk so he can stare at it whenever he misses you

the problem is that even though one of his eyes is fucked up he can still see how butt ugly the drawing is

plus the fact that if he has meetings his business associates are gonna see it and that’s gonna be a tough one to explain

rather not lose out of business because his partner decided to be picasso for a day

silco ends up compromising by having you draw a teeny tiny version he keeps in his wallet instead :3

the bigger version stays in a locked compartment of his desk drawer, he doesn’t want to risk sevika seeing it

Vander

vander does NOT care what it looks like, he loves it

you could literally scribble on a page, say “that’s you” and he’s tearing up at your thoughtfulness

it’s going on the fridge asap and it’s staying there too

he’s gonna show it to everyone with such pride in his voice

sure, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking at and maybe you drew his body hair a bit liberally but you made it so that’s good enough for him!

when he shows it off, most people say aww what a cute werewolf and ask how old his kid is

the light leaves their eyes when he tells them, chest puffed out, that his fully grown adult partner did it and that it’s actually a portrait of him

whether you made it as a joke or not, expect all of your friends, your friend’s friends, those friend’s friend’s friends…everyone to have seen it

Sevika

sevika tells you it’s ugly straight away <\3

rolls her eyes as she listens to you explain all the reasons why she should like the drawing

she does nawt care

wants to act unbothered but deep down she’s a bit insulted

however she doesn’t like sein you upset so she kisses you to distract you from the fact she hates the drawing

sevika is an incredibly considerate partner so now she knows you like art, she takes it upon herself to buy colouring books and art journals that you two can fill out together

this is how you find out she’s a god at drawing and you find it sweet how she takes you under her wing

if something’s bad she’ll tell you but it will always be constructive criticism and before you know it your portraits actually look decent

she’s smug knowing she helped you get to that point

little do you know she kept your abhorrent portrait of her and she looks at it every so often to see how far you’ve come

she’s a softie deep down

AU!mylo

he says he likes it but that’s just because he wants to hit

also is a bit pretentious so you could hand him a really bad painting and he’ll try and act like he “gets it” even if there’s nothing to get 😭

this WILL make him doubt his looks constantly

he’s confident for sure, more than he should be at times, but now he’s got that image in the back of his head

aura down and now he’s even WORSE at flirting god save this man

will go around asking random people if he looks like the guy in the portrait because he’s not going down without a fight

he needs to beat the allegations one way or another‼️

AU!claggor

genuinely too nice to decline it or say it looks bad

doesn’t know what exactly it’s meant to be even though you already said it’s a portrait of him

too focused on his plants to worry about it too much, it’s just something that makes him chuckle every now and then

he will conduct a mini interview on why you made it look the way it did

he looks all serious as he nods at your answers

deep down he just wants to understand how your brain works

masterlist

[gummydummy19]

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo

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[meownotgood]

THAT'S 60,000 WORDS LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO!!

[mymistakewriting]

911 Lone Star: 126 & Culture

Hi, this post has been in the works for... a while. I got about halfway through it, got sick, and then looked it back over and scrapped the entire thing to restart because I couldn't find my train of thought again. It happens, and unfortunately it caused this to take far longer than I would have ever liked for it to.

And seeing as the LS section of the 911 fandom isn't usually rabid, I don't feel as much need to issue the typical "hey if it looks like I'm hating on a character, I'm not, I've got source material for any criticism of a character" thing, but this particular post does come with the additional comment of: this is discussing culture. As such, I've tried to do my research and approach the topics with care, but if I misrepresent something, I would love corrections - just please be respectful when offering them. I'm always happy to learn about other cultures.

As an additional note, to any who celebrate: Ramadan Mabarak!

Without further ado, onto the content.

First and foremost, I'd like to pay mention to the original culture of the 126 pre-Owen. It's a firehouse in Austin, Texas. It's steeped in your standard Southern Culture. This is a culture I'm very familiar with, as someone who's spent their entire life in the deep south. Judd and how he and Grace approach things will absolutely be the reference points I make for those unfamiliar with the culture, as they're the ones representing that within the 126 community and extended families.

Judd and Grace are deeply religious (yes, Judd has his hangups and he's lost his faith a time or two, but it happens), but they're religious in the way Christians are truly meant to be. They don't force their beliefs on others for all that I guarantee you they have a prayer list. They're absolutely church on Sunday, sunrise service on Easter, community outreach programs and all.

Grace approaches things in the way of "may I pray for / with you" when things get hard. Her faith is a foundational pillar and a relatively unshakable one at that. She's also the one that taught those in the 126 that weren't from the South just how diverse a meaning "bless your heart" has. She's also the leading figure of "there's nothing scarier than an angry southern lady".

Judd, on the other hand, doesn't lean religious due to his own personal relationship with it. He's the side of Southern Culture that's all acts of service to be neighborly, remembers everyone's names that he can. He's the guy you call when you get stuck on a backroad somewhere and need a lift, or if you need a hand setting something up.

I also believe that Judd's particular brand of Southern Hospitality extended to him looking into the cultures being brought in with the new members of the 126 so that he could start learning and support his new family members - don't tell me that man didn't ask Marjan if she wanted the rest of them to fast alongside her during Ramadan the second he learned it was a thing. I'll call you a liar.

I also believe he was the one that put the time and effort into ensuring the firehouse only ever shopped local or at halal markets. Man's got a list in his phone that he double and triple checked to make sure they never brought anything into that firehouse that someone couldn't eat. They all eat the same thing when they cook, he's made sure of it.

Additionally, Carlos' close proximity to the 126 means he also brings in the mix of Southern and Mexican heritage. Food is a love language to him, and he absolutely brings meals in on the hard shifts when he isn't also working.

TK being jewish on his mother's side also brings in some interesting dynamics. While canon suggests he doesn't actively observe that part of his culture aside from a few small nods, I do fully believe he rarely breaks the habit of eating kosher. No pork is allowed at the firehouse due to this (a loss that Judd certainly mourned). But he doesn't bring in a lot of cultural influence other than food restrictions. Occasionally, prayer does come up with him - I do fully believe that is something he uses outside of just when he's dying of hypothermia, thank you.

Marjan probably has the heaviest cultural impact on the firehouse. The team has certainly helped her find safe spots to set up for her daily prayers, they share iftar with her when at work for it so she doesn't break her fast alone during Ramadan.

Additionally! I fully believe Nancy and Captain Vega keep extra magents and pins in their lockers / office respectively because hijab accessories are SUPER hard to keep up with.

Obviously, there's other cultural habits, and some of them come from varying places because the 126 has someone from pretty much every corner of the country, but it's hard to cover everything to detail.

Basically, the 126 is both a family and a cultural safe haven within the community, and I really do think that's beautiful. And while I certainly have my issues with Owen Strand as a character, I think he did wonderfully at putting together such a diverse team to create that community.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: IT'S GONNA FEEL SO GOOD, I PROMISE!

.ೃ࿐ he's dreamt about fucking you for months, and now that you're finally in his sheets, he has no intent of letting you go—especially when he finds out that he's your first time. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. virgin!reader. kinda sorta subtle coercion, corruption kink, slight dubcon, fingering, p –> v, lots of praise!!, mentions of prior dirty dreams (about you).

author's note: had this stuck in my drafts for a while so uhhhh. yea enjoy. tagging @mymegumi bc i love selene ꨄ︎

"please, baby, it'll feel so good," satoru cooes, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face closer to his. "i promise i'll be gentle."

you shrug, scrunching up your nose at satoru hesitantly. "i don't know..."

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours briefly and smiles tenderly. satoru's soft eyes are fixed on you, only you as he widens them pleadingly. "i wanna teach you how to fuck. please, sweetheart, we can stop anytime. jus' wanna make you feel good, i promise!"

it's only partially a lie—yes, satoru certainly wants to teach you to fuck, but he's not entirely certain that he could just stop anytime. especially because he's well aware that fucking a virgin is such an addicting experience—satoru knows you're gonna be so tight that you'll just suck him in, and he isn't that confident that he'll be able to stop once he's started.

but whatever, that's a problem for later—for now, he's focused on persuading you to spread those legs for him and show him your pretty pussy.

you pause, considering his proposal. after a couple seconds, you nod hesitantly. "you promise you'll be gentle?" you ask meekly, averting your eyes.

satoru nods, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "of course—now c'mon, let's get those clothes off of you, baby." and a couple agonizing minutes later, you're half naked underneath a shirtless satoru, and his fingers trace the inside of your thigh.

"so first, i'm gonna make you cum on my fingers, 'kay?" satoru informs you. "needa loosen you up so you can take my dick."

"o-okay," you whisper, swallowing nervously. "i'm a little scared," you admit, fiddling with the waistband of your lacy underwear. "will it hurt?"

after a moment, satoru nods in response. "at first it will. but then you're gonna feel so good, i promise."

"you promise?"

"i do."

satoru tugs down your panties and grins at the sight of your pussy, untouched and reserved just for him. he's dying to just fuck you then and there, rough and no prep, but he made a promise. and satoru has no intention of breaking it.

"ready?" he breathes, positioning his fingers just outside of your entrance. when you nod, he shakes his head. "i'm gonna need to hear it from you, baby. use your words."

"i'm r-ready," you confirm, inching your thighs farther apart for him.

"good girl."

then satoru slips his fingers inside, and you can't suppress the sudden moan that slips out of your lips. to you, it's embarrassing, but to satoru, it's music to his ears. he steadily pushes his fingers farther and farther into your tight cunt, and satoru can't help but marvel at the way you just suck him in.

"you're so fuckin' tight," satoru mumbles, eyes fixed on your pussy. "and so wet, too. i've barely even touched you, fuck."

it's agonizing, really—the sensation of having someone else's fingers inside of you is so new and so strange that you can almost ignore the pain (which is present but not as throbbing as you had feared). satoru makes sure to be as gentle as he can, which unfortunately isn't quite as gentle as you'd like—but it's not too rough for you to handle.

satoru starts widening his fingers in a scissor-like motion, stretching you farther apart to make room for his already rock-hard dick. you squirm around him and whine about how deep his fingers are, but satoru dismisses your complaints with a laugh. "c'mon, this is barely the beginning. if ya can't take this, how're you gonna take my dick?"

a couple minutes later, when satoru finally deems you loose enough, he pulls out his now-drenched fingers. looking you in the eye with a smug smile, he slips his fingers into his mouth and licks your slick off of them. "mm, you taste so good, pretty. lemme see if you feel as good as you taste, yeah?"

and that's how he convinces you to keep your thighs nice and spread wide open for him as he positions the head of his dick at your entrance, practically trembling from the effort it takes to not just pound into you. you're so compliant and perfect for satoru, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to push you up against the headboard and fuck you until you pass out.

but somehow, he manages to control himself. "alright, baby, this is gonna hurt," satoru warns, touching his reddening tip to your soaked pussy. "you ready?"

"y-yeah," you breathe, distantly noticing the way your hands start to tremble. satoru exhales softly and shakes his hair out of his eyes before gently pushing himself inside of you, and the first thought that enters your head is that he's ridiculously big—it feels like you're getting torn apart every second he goes in farther.

"satoruuu," you whine, starting to paw at his chest when he goes in farther, and it's too much, too fast, but he only grins down at you in response. "it hurts, ow... y're too—"

"uh uh, just shut your pretty mouth n' take it," satoru groans, shifting the angle of his hips and going in a little deeper. you cry out in pain, face scrunching up in an effort to numb the stinging sensation around your waist. satoru dips his head and kisses your forehead, murmuring praises on how well you're doing.

"it'll feel so good soon, i promise, baby," he insists, pressing his lips to the spot in between your eyes. "you're takin' me so good, fuck— agh, you're so damn tight, this one's gonna hurt like hell, but you can take it, yeah? my pretty princess, you'll do anythin' i say, won't ya..."

satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond before he says something about this being the last stretch, but his words don't really sink in until he's two more inches deep into you. his last thrust is so sudden and jarring that it makes you cry out his name, over and over and over until the pain evident on your face starts to turn into something that looks a lot like... pleasure?

a self-assured smile grows on satoru's flushed face when he sees the chance, and a thousand more words of praise fall from his lips. your vision's a little fuzzy in the corners, and your mind is all but gone—it's hard to focus on anything but the slowly fading pain.

satoru starts to move his hips back and forth, easing your loosening cunt into him and nodding at the way you slowly start to show signs of wanting more. your eyes brighten up a little and you seem more alert the longer satoru opens you up.

"startin' to feel good now?" he asks, smiling smugly when you nod your head. "yeah, told you so." the prominent blush on his face starts to creep down his neck, and when you reach up and tentatively touch his cheek, that's when he loses it.

it takes every drop of self-restraint in his body to not flip you over, face-down and ass-up and fuck your tight cunt the way he's dreamed about for months. satoru's imagined it for so long that it's practically a reality for him—the way you would whimper his name and claw at the sheets, the way you would cum all over him too many times to count, all of it. he's seen it a thousand times in his head, but having his fantasy so close and yet so far drives him insane.

but as you smile up at him, the almost unnoticeable tremble in your bottom lip assures him that this probably isn't the time. after all, you're not leaving him anytime soon, so he might as well train you first before even attempting any of that on your perfect, untouched body.

"what do i do now?" you ask, and the simplicity of the question is almost childish. especially when satoru almost laughs in response, soft blue eyes glinting with amusement.

"jus' lie there and stay pretty f'me. and keep your legs spread wiiide open," satoru cooes, shaking his hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back in.

"yeah, you're doin' so good that i don't even buy that you were a virgin—or are you just naturally made for me, huh? maybe that's it, 'cause i swear on my life that i've never fucked a cunt this fuckin' pretty, heh."

[baeshijima]

mr reca fic where he’s suffering a creative slump due to the lack of good scripts (by his standards) from various screenwriters. he feels himself going positively insane with every script he’s given.

it’s too dull. it’s too predictable. this one has no creative flair whatsoever!! that one just doesn’t spark enough imagination!!!

it’s troublesome, really. some think he’s really going through it, while others believe the scripts he’s been given won’t bring him enough money. but really, who cares about monetary value when it is he who cannot even begin to picture himself enjoying the process that comes with each script?

and so that is how he finds himself wandering around aimlessly. sometimes the outdoors is necessary for the mind, and who knows? perhaps he really will find something that will give him a spark. hmm, those trees are looking a little dull. the sky overhead is too cloudy. hm? did he just hear thunder—

something collides into his chest, a choked “oof!” following soon after. he stumbles backwards a little, papers flying through the air around him. he blinks once, twice, at the sight of you on the ground, muttering something under your breath before a sharp gasp escapes you, hastily scrambling to gather the papers fluttering and strewn around.

one such paper falls into his hands. he glances over its contents, skimming through it as he goes to pass it over to you with an apology at the tip of his tongue, only to freeze.

this… this is genius! this is absolutely the pinnacle of writing!! while a little rough around the edges (as drafts usually tend to be), his once clouded mind is now clear, giving way to a blank canvas which slowly depicts the imagery your writing induces. idea after idea pours into his brain as he can visualise exactly what he wants, his body trembling and heart pounding as he insantly fixates on your panicked form still collecting all the fallen papers.

“yes… yes! this is what i was looking for! everything about this is pure artistry! the possibilities are endless, the sky is the limit!!”

this is possibly the happiest and freest he has felt in what seems like eons! seriously, compared to those other mind-numbing scripts this truly is the pinnacle of writing itself.

a laugh full of pure, unadulterated glee escapes him, careful not to crinkle the god-sent paper cradled in his palms. “you! you’re a genius!”

“i’m a wha…?”

he whirls in the direction of the source of the voice, further praises and a proposal for a collaboration on the tip of his tongue, only for his breath to catch in his throat.

you… you’re so radiant! even with that disheveled appearance and absolutely adorable confused expression you’re giving him, he never realised such beauty existed! not only does your writing fill him with endless creativity, but his pounding heart, parched throat and warming skin tells him you’re definitely the main character!

but wait! if you were to be the main character, then would that make him the main character’s love interest? surely he wouldn’t have had such a cliché meet-cute like bumping into each other if he wasn’t the love interest! but what if there is a second love interest? no, no, he can oust them…

you, on the other hand, believe you’re about to get whiplash instead of the man, baffled at how he instantly switched from a maniac to stark silence to muttering senselessly with a dreamy expression.

well, each to their own. you have more pressing matters, and that’s to quickly return home and continue fantasising before you forget the idea! but first, you have to get the last piece of paper back…

“um… sir? can i have my paper back, please?”

in an instant, he kneels in front of you. now that you’re at eye level, he certainly is very handsome. if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought this was some movie or drama plot with him as the main lead! oh, but why is he holding your hands—

“yes, i will spend the rest of my life with you.”

“…what?”

tldr; you’re just a silly writer who daydreams far too much for their own good, and somehow managed to bag top-tier director mr reca with the power of said daydreams. (his ever-growing obsession with you is concerning to say the least but, hey! what genius isn’t at least a little insane?)

[malsmind]

lower back tattoo

fwb!chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, kicthen counter sex, slapping, spanking kink, kinda punishing, overstimulation, crying, chris smearing his cum over readers tattoo (its gonna be funny trust)

author's note: idek how tf i thougt of the end for this one.. its been sitting in my drafts for a while LMFAO

wc: 524

this inspired me to add a spanking kink to this! :)

english is not my first language!

"chris, please" you whined. your cheek pressed against the cold marble of the kitchen counter, wet from your tears. you swear your legs would give out any second, but chris didn't care how sensetive you were from the three orgasms he'd pulled out of you already, he just kept fucking into you at a relentless pace.

you whined when another smack landed on your ass, this one felt different. "'s what you get for not telling me." he groaned, watching the way your ass bounced every time his hips snapped forward. "so fuckin' sexy, can't believe you didn't fuckin' tell me" another smack.

chris getting rough with you was nothing new, he'd slap your ass sometimes, never like this though. never like he actually meant it, like he'd punish you for something you've done. you cried out a moan when another hard, slap landed on your ass, the stinging pain barely goes noticed by you because of yet another orgasm building up.

your fingers gripped the counter, knuckles turning white from how hard you were holding onto it. "got a damn lower back tattoo and didn't even tell me until i had you bent over the fuckin' counter." he scoffed, slapping your ass harder than last time, kneading the flesh in an attempt to soothe the sting after. you nearly screamed when your fourth orgasm came crashing down, your legs violently shaking, toes curling as his dick kept fucking in and out of your overstimulated, wet pussy.

another slap

your head was fuzzy, your vision blurring as small tears kept rolling down your face. it wasn't the brutal spanking, it was the fact he just didn't stop after the first time you came on his dick. your voice broke with every moan that left your lips.

"yeahhh, that's it baby. cmon m' so close..." chris groaned, his hands moving to grip your hips instead. "keep moaning f'me"

and you did.

with your legs shaking, your arousal coating his dick and dripping down your leg, you kept making the pretty noises he loved to hear. chris bit his lip, brows knitting together in pleasure as he admired the red marks on your ass, and of course, the healed ink on your lower back. that alone made his dick twitch. his thrusts grew sloppier, but they didn't become slower or less hard. the sound of hips snapping forward, skin slapping and your cries of pleasure, he gave you a few more hard thrusts before pullng out of you. your body went limp against the counter, your grip on the cold surface loosening as you tried to catch your breath.

chris gave his dick a few strokes before you felt his warm cum paint your lower back and ass, low moans coming from the man behind you.

still catching your breath, you turned your head around with a frown when you felt his tip rub his cum around your lower back, over your tattoo. "chris, what the fuck are you doin'?"

"moisturizing your tattoo, the fuck's it look like?" he answered your confused question like what he was doing was the most normal thing ever.

"chris, it's healed."

@middlepartmatt @emely9274 @impossiblecollectorcat @staargazr @sllutty-sturniolo @shadowthesim237 @sturns-mermaid @courta13 @grace-sturnz @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @ncm9696 @rcklessheavn @sophand4n4 @amyiasturnl @ivysturnss

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

“𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐦𝐞” •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis: asking sylus to be more rough with you…don’t do it again.

tags: rough, spanking, edging, manhandling, creampie, degradation, explicit, vulgar, doggystyle, tears, etc.

wrd cnt: 0.9k

a/n: this one was sitting in the drafts for like a bajillion years i think

You learned your lesson now, don’t ever tell Sylus to be more rough.

It’s not like he can’t be, or doesn’t want to; because fuck does he want to.

It was for your own well being that he didn’t go too far.

So let’s say it’s your fault he’s absolutely destroying you right now, your face pushed down onto the pillow while his other hand grips tightly on your hip.

“Sy-lus…wait!” You plead, your cheek squished onto his silk pillowcase while you beg for him to slow down, only to hear a deep, rich, almost mocking laughter.

“Don't tell me you're crying already Kitten? You wanted me to rough you up a bit, what’s wrong now?” He says, his voice not far away from a growl.

You can only cry into the sheets, feeling his throbbing cock stretching out your walls as he pounded you in so hard there was sure to be a dent in the mattress. Your walls would remember the stretch and think only of him. He was ruining you for anyone else.

“Please- S-slow down…” You mewled, juices spraying out and coating your clit as it drips down, teardrop shapes sure to stain the sheets.

With a tsk, Sylus pulled out of you, the sudden change making your body scrunch up slightly.

“A complacent thing like you doesn’t deserve my cock.” He spouts, leaving a hard smack on your ass and flipping you over. He takes your wrists in one hand, pulling them above your face and pinning you while his other cups your face harshly.

“Or maybe you want me to be even more rough? Ignoring your little pleas. “Is that it, sweetie?”

Truthfully you didn’t even know what you wanted right now, but the way he was throwing you around and speaking to you made everything inside you grow more warm and wanting.

So he made the decision for you, gently smacking your face like he wanted you more awake, on your toes l, before giving you a command.

“Up. Get on all fours. You know better than to disobey, don't you?”

You knew what was good for you, apparently not when you first asked Sylus to be rough, but you knew to not push him anymore.

You weakly crawl up, palms and knees smooth against the slippery sheets.

“Good. Spread your legs a little more, let me see how messy you are down here.” He says, clearly on a mission to embarrass you.

You hesitate but only for a second, spreading your knees farther and arching your back down to give him a good view.

“Mhmm, good girl,” He coos, taking his thumb and pressing it into your slit, letting your arousal drip out with every small press; making you clench your hole around nothing.

“This pussy is so needy…and you want me to stop? Look at you. Such a pathetic little thing.”

You shudder at his words, pushing your ass back to feel more of his thumb inside you.

But that wasn’t smart. He pulled out of you, licking his finger with a pop sound leaving his mouth.

“You want more? You were just begging me to slow down, make up your mind.” He says harshly, leaving no room for any negotiations.

“Tell me what you want.” He says hastily to bridge your silence, giving your ass a harsh slap to break it.

“W-want you to fuck me more Sy…” You say quietly, your ears heating up at how embarrassing that was to say out loud.

“Louder” Sylus takes a wack at your ass again, leaving a red mark of his hand.

“More- Please!” You squeal, your eyes shut and in recovering of his harsh treatment on your body.

Without a warning, he pulls your ankles toward him, making you fall face down onto the bed; dragging your lower half to dangle off the edge as you feel hour two feet slightly touch the hardwood as he pushes on your lower back; keeping your chest pressed into the bed and your rear against his cock, eager to pummel into your waiting walls.

“Why are you shaking kitten? I haven’t even done anything yet.” He says, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your folds, sadistically poking it in and out of your hole.

“But youre right, you should be scared.” He added, grabbing your arms and pulling them back again to cuff you into position with his large grasp.

“Are you ready?” He asks, putting up a loving front before he rams his cock into you when he hears you speak another “wait!”.

You cry out, his cock kissing the deepest parts inside your velvet folds over and over at a speed you’ve never felt before.

“You’re crying again honey? You’re squeezing on me so tight…I think you like this.” He says, laughing softly as he speeds up, even as he’s fucking you on the end of the bed the bedframe starts to hit the wall with each thrust.

“Sylus-! Fuck…I-I’m gonna cum…” You whimper out, your throat dry from your moans.

“You better.” He threatens. “You’ll cum and you’re going- to. thank. me.” He says sternly, giving you a hard thrust after each word; pushing you over the edge.

You cry out, feeling the bubbling knot in your stomach tighten before coming completely snapping.

“Fuck-Sy…Sylus! T-Thank you…thank you-!” You repeated over and over, like a chant to your god.

He barely stopped, still thrusting into you, making sure you learn your lesson.

Only a few moments go by before he reached his own high, before you felt it.

He hopes you know this isn’t your last orgasm of the night.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[porcalinecunt]

Hear me out: Jason todd with a pathetic fem criminal/thief he loves to play with involving gunplay

- heart anon ❤

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘!

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 you couldn’t be a decent criminal for shit, so much so, the red hood himself has rather ulterior motives . . .

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ JASON TODD X FEM! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — rough sex, semi public, slight gunplay, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, breeding, jason being a bully :<

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ i kinda hate this lol, sorry if my writing falls off towards the end. i haven’t touched this draft in MONTHS [sobs]

“i-i won’t hesitate!”

“yeah..threatening the guy with the ak-47..”

he scoffs, barely clutching onto the military grade weapon as if he knows you’d miss every last one of your shots from the tiny pistol you held. your shakey hands were already such a dead giveaway.

petite, timid and easy to snap in two. that’s enough to have the red hood himself laughing at your pathetic attempts to intimidate him. he almost wondered how Black Mask’s goons allowed you through just to grab a nice stash of hard drugs, most likely to sell for a ridiculous price.

“look little girl, put the pistol down and i’ll make it easier for ya. don’t gotta act all tough on me..” the barrel of the rifle faced the floor, clearly he doesn’t wish to waste a bullet on your airheaded self.

there’s my chance! you thought to yourself, rushing past the vigilante and booking it to the stairwell. a grin stretched your lips, how easy was that? and he’s meant to be the best!

as if red hood heard your thoughts, the larger figure dropped down from the ceiling right in front of you with an ear shattering thud! stopping dead in your tracks, you threw a hasty punch that was easily blocked before red hood yanked you by the wrist and threw you onto the wall next to you. not even a second went by before you felt his build press against your smaller figure. trapped.

“h-hey! let me go you prick!” you whined and pouted, trying to push your way out with no success. he didn’t even feel like another man, more like a wall.

amidst the struggle, you heard a small chuckle before the red hood succumbed to laughter. he was fucking laughing, at you. angry, you weakly elbowed him in the rib which did next to nothing. it only earned you another wheeze and chuckles from the hooded bastard.

“awe, what’s the matter? can’t fight back? is this your first crime girl?”

you looked back with an angry pout, his white eyes that were basically holes in that bulky helmet of his narrowed in amusement. an expression that admittedly, gave you a case of butterflies. the way he taunted you, laughed at you, even looked at you. fuck, you wondered if he was seeing anyone outside of fighting crime.

your facial expression must’ve shifted, as the masked vigilante tilted his head. “got something to say to me, little girl?”

his eyes widened a little after saying that, probably because of the way you began to press against his own body. whether you knew it or not, you’re practically arching, pressing your ass against his crotch. it really didn’t help that you were wearing a tight one piece that showed off every curve and shape of your figure.

it didn’t take long before red hood picked up on your intentional eye fucking, backing up to allow enough space for him to grab your hips and roam around your body. the red hood was a greedy one, grabbing and squeezing every bit of flesh he felt on you until he finally found your breasts. his hand alone covered the whole thing, that’s how huge he was. a sudden and rather harsh squeeze made you jump.

"don't be rough!" you whined as the crime lord gently massaged the sore flesh, only to give it another squeeze and forcing a yelp out of your throat. "you're mean..!"

"awe, am i? thought you were a big girl with that prissy attitude and the gaul to act all tough with me.." jason cooed in a mocking tone. even through the material of your bodysuit, you could feel him growing harder and harder against your ass. your stomach was in knots from the sheer length of this man, yet you never fessed up as his fingers found the zipper hidden in the fabric. . . .

you couldn't make a noise, not with jason's huge palm over your slobbering mouth while his cock pistons in and out of your ruined cunt. two orgasms ripped out of you yet he refuses to stop for even a breath, or to take off that stupid helmet.

"c'mon..i know you got another in ya." he grunted, smacking your left thigh which was covered in hand prints from the earlier rounds. you weren't wrong when you called him mean earlier, the way he discarded your bodysuit to him throwing you against different surfaces like a ragdoll. now, he has you over the stair railing while he brutally fucks you from behind.

your knees buckled from the pressure as you clung onto the dirty railing for dear life, the skin on your ass a bright red from his hips slamming against it. you turned your head slightly to meet those white eyes that bore themselves into your brain, how you wish he just took it off to see who's actually fucking you mid failed heist. stupidly, you reached out behind to try and pry even a little, only for a gun cocking to startle you frozen.

"fuck you think you're doing? thought you were slick huh.."

a breathy chuckle followed, as you heard the subtle clicks of the gun inching closer and closer to your ear until the barrel was pressed right below your jaw. you didn’t know if it was fear or arousal, but nonetheless, the next thing you knew was your stuffed cunt clenching around jason’s girth like a vice.

“ohh..you like this, do you?” he started, caressing the gun against your bruised skin. the cold outer was a sharp yet welcoming contrast to the hot air that suffocated you beneath his weight. you mewled in response, practically strangling his cock the harder you clenched.

the vigilante picked up his pace, groaning in your ear as he pointed the firearm below your jaw as if you were a hostage. a strangled moan echoed throughout the stairs and your knees buckled, prompting jason to wrap an arm around your waist.

“m’gonna..m’gonna cum..please..” you sighed, screwing your eyes shut as the knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter.

“cum f’me girl…don’t fuck this up too..” jason chuckled from the mean jab as his dick twitched against your cervix. before you could respond to his passive aggressive remark, you’re vision went white as a sudden wave of heat filled your ruined pussy. your vision blurred as jason fucked his cum deep into your cunt, not allowing a drop to slip out.

“atta girl..maybe you aren’t as stupid as i thought..”

jason tapped the gun against your thigh as he continues to move his hips against yours, not caring about the fact you could barley hold on at this point.

another round wouldn’t hurt, especially with the antics you’ve pulled today.

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[girlygguk]

DREAM OF YOU | JJK (Prologue)

summary bunnies had always been your favorite; their soft and gentle nature a comfort in a world that could be anything but. this one, however, is not very soft. and he certainly isn’t gentle.

pairing bunny hybrid!jk x human vet!(f)reader

word count 3k

chapter rating sfw

genre hybridverse, s2l, angsty (future fluff & smut)

content jk 24 | yn 25, grumpy bunny hybrid jk, spirited human veterinarian oc, jk doesn't trust humans, his love interest is a human..., brief mentions of fighting, blood & body wounds, cursing, hybrid bangtan, park jimin is an angel cat

updated a/n this was supposed to just be a draft dump, but upon unexpected love for the fic from a few of u absolute sweetheartss, i shall be turning this into a series! haven’t decided onna release date for pt 2 atm, but it’s next on my list for updates!! love you and thank youu x <3

masterlist | join the taglist | banner credit

now playing: camila cabello—dream of you

09 MAY 2022 | 10:31 PM Seo-Dong Animal & Hybrid 24/7 Veterinary Clinic.

You’d gotten used to these quiet hours, where time seemed to stretch and your thoughts kept you company more than the occasional late-night emergency. Stocking supplies and counting inventory had become a routine—one of the many tasks that kept your mind and hands busy in the lull between patients.

That is until the silence was shattered by the sound of the clinic door slamming open, the loud thud of it hitting the wall echoing through the empty space. Startled, you stood up from your crouched position, your eyes immediately darting to the entrance.

The sight that greeted you was a sharp contrast to the quiet evening you’d been having. A blonde boy, his eyes sharp and his features very feline, was half-dragging, half-supporting a taller male into the clinic. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the scene—especially the sight of the second male, whose long, fluffy ears drooped low in a clear sign of distress.

Your hand automatically reached out to close the cabinet you had been rummaging through, and without another thought, you were moving toward the pair, mind racing to assess the situation as you walked. The bunny hybrid—as you determined based on his undeniable features—was clearly in pain. His eyes were shut tight, his jaw clenched, muscles taut with tension. Bunnies had always been your favorite; their soft and gentle nature a comfort in a world that could be anything but. Seeing one in such a state of discomfort made your chest tighten.

“Hi there, I’m Y/N. What’s wrong? How can I help?” you asked, your voice gentle despite the urgency you felt.

The cat hybrid—also self-determined by you—was quick to respond, his voice laced with worry as he glanced at his friend. “Hello, Y/N! I’m Jimin, and this is my friend Jungkook. He’s injured, and if you could please—”

You were already nodding, taking another step closer to Jungkook to try and assess his wound. But before you could get too close, Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, and he took a sharp, defensive step backward, pulling Jimin with him. His dark eyes narrowed as they met yours.

“No,” he grunted, his voice rough with pain and something else—distrust. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the all too familiar scent. Human. You could almost see the thoughts running through his mind. “She’s not a hybrid. Let’s go, Jimin-ah.”

The words hit you slightly harder than you expected, and your extended hand abruptly dropped to your side. It wasn’t the first time you’d faced prejudice in your line of work, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Humans didn’t have the best reputation among hybrids, and for good reason. The history between your species was filled with pain, fear, and oppression. Even now, with the world having come a long way in terms of hybrid rights, there were still deep scars left by past injustices.

You understood his reaction, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t sting. You were just trying to help.

As much as you wanted to let him walk out and take his assumptions with him, you couldn’t ignore the clear signs of pain and discomfort in the way he held himself.

“Okay,” you said, forcing your voice to remain even. “Did you need directions to the nearest open hybrid clinic? It’s about an hour's drive eastbound. Or, my koala hybrid colleague will be starting the overnight shift at 12. You can come back then?”

The words were polite, but there was a frustrated edge to them, one you couldn’t control. You weren’t some inexperienced intern, and you certainly weren’t going to let this bunny hybrid dismiss you so easily.

Jungkook caught the undertone, and his expression darkened further. He gave you a tight nod, clearly not appreciating your condescending offer, and turned to leave, unhooking his arm from Jimin’s supportive grip.

“Jungkookie, please!” Jimin pleaded, his voice rising in desperation. He grabbed the back of Jungkook’s torn t-shirt, pulling him back with more force than you expected from someone with such a lithe frame. Jungkook grunted in pain, the sound low and rough, as the movement aggravated whatever injury he was carrying.

“I’m sorry, Kookie, but you will die if we wait!” Jimin’s words were dramatic, but the concern in his eyes was very real. “Just please, please let her tend to you. I’m sure she’s more than qualified! Why else would she be working here, right?” The cat turned to you, his eyes wide and pleading. “Right?”

You allowed a small, wry smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “Sure,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Though, I’m not actually a qualified veterinarian - I just sanitize the equipment and clean out the overnight chambers. But our night vet called in sick, so… I guess I could try?”

Jimin’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his head shaking nervously as he took a step back. “Oh… I-uh, never mind! Uh—I think we’ll actually go to—”

“Aish, Jimin-ah. She’s joking,” Jungkook muttered, his voice laced with irritation at his gullible best friend.

The bunny’s dark eyes flicked to the name badge on your white lab coat that covered your forest green scrubs. Small doodles in thin black marker decorated the corners of the badge—hearts, flowers, and funnily enough, a tiny little bunny rabbit. Below your name, in bold letters, was your title: Senior Animal and Hybrid Veterinary Specialist.

“Oh!” Jimin gasped, relief washing over his features as some of the color drained from his cheeks. “Well, that’s great then! May you please help my friend? He’s a bunny hybrid, 24 years old, and he has a really big bite wound on his lower abdomen! It’s not bleeding badly, but it’s HUGE. It was from this big, ugly Pitbull hybrid! He’s terrifying and from the South side—well, we are too—but he deals drugs and all sorts of illegal things, so who knows what was in his mouth before he bit Jungkook?! But don’t worry, Y/N-ssi, Jungkookie doesn’t back down! You should’ve seen what that no-good mutt came out looking like—”

“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook sighed, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance at his best friend’s tendency to ramble and over share.

“Right, sorry, Jungkookie…” Jimin said quickly, his ears flattening slightly in embarrassment before he turned back to you. “Anyways, it happened about ten minu—”

You nodded along as Jimin continued his detailed description while you walked to the counter with the hybrids following suit, one much more begrudgingly than the other.

Your pen flew over the clipboard as you jotted down everything you needed to know. All the while, you could feel Jungkook’s gaze burning into the side of your face. 

It wasn’t the kind of look you were used to from other hybrids—the possessive, predatory stares that made your skin crawl. This was different. His eyes were sharp, assessing, like he was trying to figure out if he could trust you. 

Two minutes passed as you filled out the necessary sections on the new patient slip, the cat being the one to provide all the details, everything right down to the weight of the bunny. They’re obviously very close, possibly lovers, and you thought it was adorable. A classic grumpy x sunshine trope right in front of your eyes.

You were almost finished when, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungkook’s knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the counter, his balance faltering. His stance had shifted from defensive to exhausted, his body finally starting to give in to the pain and the adrenaline that had been keeping him upright.

“Catch him, Jimin,” you ordered, your voice firm and directed at the cat hybrid, but your eyes were on the bunny.

“Oh, shit!” Jimin cursed, his eyes widening in panic as he darted forward to catch his friend. Jungkook’s knees buckled, his eyes rolling back as his body went limp. He was almost twice the size of Jimin, and the smaller hybrid struggled under the sudden weight.

You were around the counter in seconds, slipping under Jungkook’s other arm to help hold him up. “Help me bring him into the medical suite, please,” you asked, but your tone left little room for argument. Together, you and Jimin managed to half-carry, half-drag the unconscious bunny hybrid into the next room.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

“Y/N-ssi,” Jimin’s voice was curious as he twirled in your spinny chair, watching as you worked on his best friend who lay unconscious on the cushioned med table.

“Hmm?” you responded quietly, focused on pulling another thread through Jungkook’s stitch.

It had been almost forty minutes since you guys had heaved the bunny onto the table, allowing you to finally get a good look at the wound. Jimin had been right — it wasn’t profusely bleeding. However, the edges of the bite were now a dark purplish color, and it took quite a few minutes and resources to rid him of whatever remnants of toxic substance the attacker had laced on his teeth.

The cat hybrid was more than eager to help, and while you insisted it was okay, he all but got on his knees and bowed before you, begging to assist. You ended up giving in, knowing that helping might calm his overwhelming nerves for his companion. You made him glove and gown up before letting him hold the bucket while you flushed out Jungkook’s wound.

It took approximately ten seconds and a bit of discolored pus draining into the container before Jimin dry heaved and looked like he was about to faint. Not wanting to double your current patient count, you bit back a laugh and made the cat put the bucket on the ground and sit down while you finished.

“Are you really a senior veterinarian?”

“I am,” you confirmed, snipping the end of your final stitch with scissors before reaching for the sanitized gauze. “Have I done something to make you question my position?”

“No!” Jimin exclaimed, pulling to an abrupt halt in his spinning on your chair. “You’re fantastic! Really! I don’t exactly know the standards for hybrid medical aid…” You smiled as the cat trailed off, wiping over Jungkook’s now neatly sealed wound. “But I bet you exceed them!”

“You’re very kind, Jimin-ssi.” You gave him a quick glance over your shoulder, and he returned your smile. “Then why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just…” Jimin trailed off again, a habit of his that you found slightly comical considering his tendency to ramble and over-explain things. Shifting on your stool next to the sleeping bunny hybrid, you gave him your full attention. When the cat looked up and saw your head tilted in curiosity, he continued. “You just look very, uh, young? I’m sorry if that’s offensive. I know you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age—”

“That’s okay, Jimin-ssi. I don’t mind. I’m twenty-five.”

Your response seemed to put him at ease. “Wow, that’s still young to be a senior vet, no?”

“Mm,” you nodded in agreement as you began tidying up the area. “After completing my bachelor’s degree, I started here as a Veterinary Assistant. I was promoted to technician shortly after that, and specialist even quicker... Guess they saw some potential in me, or maybe we were just severely understaffed,” you joked, disposing of the used supplies and taking everything that needed to be cleaned to the sanitization station.

He gave you a Cheshire grin. “Ah, so modest, Y/N-ssi… From what I’ve seen, you deserve all of that and more! And I would know best. I’m older than you, after all.”

You gave the cat an amused hum, dumping the utensils into the sink for washup later. “‘95?”

“Wha—” You didn’t have to look at him to sense the way he perked up in his seat. “How did you know?!”

“The tattoo on your finger,” you replied with a light chuckle as you walked to the storage cupboard.

Jimin’s gaze dropped to the small ‘95’ tattoo encased in a heart on the side of his right ring finger. “Oh,” he mumbled sheepishly. The fact that you had managed to notice such a slight detail about him, though, made the cat inside him purr.

“What size shirt is Jungkook?”

Jimin looked up from his hand to see you now digging around in a large container of what looked to be folded clothing. His brows pinched curiously. “Medium.”

You nodded, your hand already hovering over a black tee in medium, having guessed correctly. When you pulled the shirt from the pile, your foot nudged the container back into the cupboard before you made your way over to Jimin. He gave you a confused look as you walked right past his best friend, who lay shirtless on the table, and held the shirt out to him.

“Um—”

“It may make him a bit more comfortable to be wearing something with a familiar scent when he wakes up.” You explained, wiggling the fabric in your hand, urging him to take it. Jimin let out a noise of realization and took it from you with a nod.

“The anesthesia should be wearing off shortly. His stats are good, so it won’t be long now,” you said with a reassuring smile as you took the t-shirt back from Jimin after he had thoroughly scented the fabric.

Jimin watched silently, a small smile on his face, as you carefully pulled the shirt onto the unconscious hybrid. A frown crossed your features when you noticed his skin was cold to the touch. Concerned, you checked his heart rate on the monitor next to the bed and were relieved to find the stats still within a healthy range. After recording the data, you headed to the medical supply cupboard and gathered everything you needed in a large ziplock bag. You handed it to Jimin, along with a manual on aftercare for stitched wounds.

“I’m just going to finish up the last of the paperwork for the night before my colleague arrives to take over,” you told him. Jimin nodded with a smile, and you returned it, making sure to lower the air conditioning as you left the room.

About 20 minutes later, Jungkook woke up and walked out of the medical bay with Jimin. He was moving better now, but you could tell he was still groggy. The sound of their approaching footsteps caught your attention, and you looked up from your desk.

Jimin’s face was split into a wide grin. “What do we owe you for your magic, Y/N-ssi?”

You smiled as you handed him the invoice, then turned to Jungkook. “Do you have Hybrid Healthcare?” you asked gently.

Jungkook didn’t respond verbally, just shook his head and reached for his wallet in his back pocket, shuffling through some cash.

“Oh, you don’t have to pay all at once. If you’re good for it, we offer payment plans—”

“Are you assuming I can’t pay it all at once?” Jungkook interjected with a glare.

His sharp tone caught you off guard, and your expression shifted from soft to slightly offended. You suppressed the urge to snap back, keeping your voice steady. “No, I offer that to every patient who doesn’t have healthcare—”

Jimin looked up from the file in his hand, his confusion cutting off your explanation. “Y/N-ssi, is this the completed bill?”

You frowned. “Yes, is there something wrong?”

“Well, I saw you use two syringes, not one. And you were stitching for over 30 minutes, not fifteen like recorded. I don’t understand…”

Your heart sank. If Jungkook hadn’t thought you were pitying him before, he definitely did now.

Jungkook snatched the paper from Jimin, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the document.

“Well, I just—” you began, but Jungkook cut you off.

“You didn’t even charge me for the anesthesia,” he scoffed, practically slamming the paper on the counter before reaching for a wad of cash. “I’m not a fucking charity case, but thanks, though.” He pulled out double the amount listed on the bill and slapped it on top of the paperwork.

You were quiet as he did so, your face expressionless as you looked down at the money. Jimin gave you a guilty look, but Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you. “Is that enough? How much was it originally?”

You blinked at him, then nodded wordlessly, taking the bills and turning to the register. Your fingers tapped at the screen before the till popped open and you shoved the cash into the register, closing it a little harder than necessary. When the receipt printed, you ripped it off and handed it to Jungkook without a word.

Jungkook took the receipt in silence, his jaw clenched as he watched you.

“Y/N-ssi—” Jimin started, guilt evident in his tone.

“I gave Jimin your aftercare bag,” you said, your voice robotic as you addressed Jungkook. “Sanitize the injured area twice a day—once in the morning, once at night. Avoid swimming in pools with chlorine and stay away from salt water too. Stitches need to be removed in two weeks; you can book an appointment with my colleague, Namjoonie. He’ll be here in five minutes.”

With that, you nodded politely at the two men before turning on your heel and heading toward the staff office. The door closed behind you with a sharp click, leaving the hybrids in a heavy silence.

Jimin let out a sigh. “Aish, Jungkookie—”

“Shut up.”

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🌟 ̟ !! gold star redemption program. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ʙʟᴜᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋ's ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇʀ

✿ ─ synopsis: you are the new manager for team blue lock and you have a great idea to make the players get along better. after all, positive reinforcement worked really well on dogs, why not men? ✿ ─ characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, chigiri hyoma + kunigami rensuke referenced ✿ ─ cw: smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, aged-up!characters(18+), pet names, kissing, penetrative sex, oral receiving/giving, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, overstimulation, rough sex, deepthroating/face-fucking, non-exclusive relationships, lots of jealousy, pda, use of foul language, suggestive themes, shidou is an asshole, rin threatens murder, somewhat proofread ✿ ─ notes: okay so every is going to ignore the logistics and mental gymnastics done to put all these guys on the same team and have any of this go on, right? cool. this work was requested by @anastasiablossomlove pls enjoy!

managing team blue lock was no task for a person of average conviction. anyone with less of a spine would be easily trampled and consumed by the members, all with big personalities and even bigger egos. you took to the role with exceptional organizational skills and a positive attitude that didn’t falter, even under the cold glares of the less compliant men of the team (cough cough itoshi rin cough cough barou shouei). before the end of your first week you had drafted up detailed and individualized meal plans, unique to each of them. by the second you had worked with the coach to create special training regimes that works towards their fitness goals while providing challenge and variety. right under their noses you dug your pretty fingers into every part of team blue lock, finding every issue and soothing every conflict, turning a group of somewhat wild animals into a well functioning machine with you at its core.

and not a detail slipped your eye. you could always tell when kunigami had pushed himself too hard in the gym by the stiffness in his shoulders. honestly you doubt you would’ve been able to convince him to let you help him if he wasn’t just as sore as you predicted. but the minute your palms were pressing into his back he was groaning in relief, “you’re an angel” grumbled under his breath. he’s a bit less embarrassed the next time around, blushing while asking you to fix him like you did last time.

you quickly took responsibility for doing chigiri’s hair before every practice and game. after seeing it fall out of its style and flap wildly in his face whenever he reached top speed on the field, you decided he needed something a little more reliable to keep it out the way so his eyes could stay on the ball. though when his hair was this soft, who could blame you for taking a bit longer than necessary, brushing through the knots and gently scratching at his scalp. plus, he didn’t seem to mind all that much, always red faced and all smiles, leaning into your touch. the thank you kiss he plants on your cheek lingers long enough to leave a matching blush on your face as a token of his appreciation.

being the backbone of their system earned you respect, acknowledgement, even affection from the overly friendly members of the team (cough cough bachira meguru cough cough shidou ryusei). no one could deny the benefits of having you around, always offering all kinds of helpful advice and showed not a shred of judgment when listening to their problems. and you weren’t exactly ignorant to the fact that your constant support was causing some of your new friends to become especially attached to you. maybe to someone else it would be a bigger concern, but in your eyes, this was only another opportunity to do more for your team.

that’s why you implemented the gold star redemption program to help motivate them. it was quite simple to follow, you had a chart with all of their names along with cute, slightly wonky doodles of them, and a list of ways to earn gold stars. from goals and assists to being on good behavior, whatever way they earn their stars, team members can then cash them in for certain prizes from you. the list had looked something like this…

2 ☆ = snack or drink of your choice 4 ☆ = a home cooked meal 5 ☆ = a kiss <3 7 ☆ = a massage <33 10 ☆ = private training session <333

the objective was to give incentives towards cooperation. not to mention, it’s always good to strengthen bonds with your team members. it seems, however, that you underestimated how much of your time this new system would take up. or maybe you just overestimated how easy it would be to keep up with the greedy desires of so many egoists at once.

ever since your arrival, anyone with eyes could see that isagi yoichi carried a torch for you. you let him talk your ear off for hours about tactics and players, never tired of his company or too busy for his rambles. it gets his heart thumping obnoxiously loud in his chest. so yoichi makes it his objective to dote on you as much as possible to try to make up for all the time you spend fussing over everybody else. always staying after practice to help you or walking you home. so when you start handing out stars for that kind of stuff, isagi is already making a steady income. he considers himself a gentleman, so at first he spends his stars on meals. and he’s more than happy to eat your cooking, stirring up all kinds of wifey fantasies in his head and enjoying his lunches with you. but at night, when he’s lying in bed, the big ticket item at the bottom of the prize board haunts him. and when he can’t take it anymore, he slips into your tiny little office that you share with the coach, a self-satisfied smile on his face when he lets you know that he just finished the stat sheets you asked him to fill out, earning him his tenth gold star. enough for one private training session.

in all the times you thought about sex with isagi, you’re not sure you ever pictured it to be like this. bent over your own desk, tennis skirt bunched up around your waist, your star player too eager to sink into your pussy to even push down your underwear. they stayed tugged to the side, thoroughly soaked from the way his hips meet yours in sloppy desperate thrusts. “i knew i needed to fuck you when i saw this skirt,” he confesses, eyes fixed to the point where you connect, mesmerized by the way his cock disappears inside you, “you’ve been tempting me all day, so be a good girl and take my cock, okay?” before you can respond he hooks a finger into the elastic of your panties to let it snap back against your skin, drawing a small yelp from you. he changs the angle to fuck you harder, deeper. you wonder if this could be the same sweet yoichi that carries your things and bashfully tells you your outfit looks good.

apparently that yoichi doesn’t exist once he’s balls deep inside you, all that’s left is the side of him you’ve only caught glimpses of when he’s dominating his opponents on the field. and if you thought that it was a chance encounter, you’re sorely mistaken as week after week isagi makes sure he earns his ten stars and you get to know just how mean he can be. his grip is always tight around your hair, whether it’s pulling and steering you into the position he wants or guiding your head down to take more of his dick. god forbid he asks you nicely for something like he always does when you’re not ‘training’. one time you even had the gall to suggest the idea to him and lived to regret it as now if you want anything from him, isagi is only accepting the most convincing of your begs. “c'mon princess, mind your manners, if you wanna cum then you’re gonna have to ask really nicely.” and no teary eyed puppy dog look will get you what you want, even when he makes getting your words out so difficult. truthfully, he never intends to be so hard on you, but having you crying and begging for his cock is the only way to soothe the devil on his shoulder that tries to tell him to take you for himself. in the aftermath, you start to recognize your yoichi again, sheepish in his apologies for how rough he was with you, kissing away the tears that run down your face. he’s lucky you’re too fucked out to charge him for them.

there’s not a world where you offer bachira meguru sexual favors in exchange for playing soccer and he says no. he was already gonna do that anyway, and now not only does he get to make even more of a game out of it, but his reward for winning is the cute little manager he’s had his eyes on for far too long? consider him sold. bachira knows it would be most fun for him to save up and have sex with you as soon as possible, but all of a sudden he has five and he’s itching for a kiss. one he decides to give you right before practice starts… in front of the whole team. but can you blame him? he’s already been waiting forever to feel those pretty glossed lips on his, you couldn’t really expect him to make it through the next few hours when he’s so close to getting what he wants. and you could maybe understand that, but was it really necessary to go for a full open-mouthed wet almost make out that left you panting when everyone’s eyes were already on you? you suspect not, but bachira doubles down, telling you it was of upmost importance that he got it in, else he wouldn’t be able to focus. he neglects to tell you that he overheard reo in the locker room talking about what he was gonna do now that he had five stars. shidou already made it very clear that he would be first to ten, so bachira had to be crafty in order to secure at least one first from you.

meguru was certainly one of the more needy players, right under nagi that required some form of encouragement every step of the way to get anything done. bachira usually does what you tell him to, but not without whining about deserving a prize for being good. quite frankly, you dread having to ask anything of him, because he is determined to be fully compensated for even the smallest of requests. even a task as easy as grabbing something on a high shelf was met with a cheeky smirk and a request for a kiss. and don’t think he’ll budge either, holding the item hostage if he thinks he can squeeze two out of you. it didn’t make it any easier that bachira didn’t possess a shy bone in his whole body, openly showering you in affection when the others were around, holding your hand and nuzzling his face into your collar. it was enough to make even a professional like you blush. he acted as if he was oblivious to the jealous stares of his friends, but the smug cat-like smirk he sends them and the way he only holds you tighter when you try to shyly brush him off gives him away. it may come as a surprise considering his reputation for being a bit delusional, but bachira tries to root himself in reality for once. he frequently reminds himself of the nature of your relationship and tries his best not let his imagination run wild with anything that would be beyond the boundaries you’ve clearly set. things like picturing himself taking you on dates, coming home to you at night, introducing you to his mom. they were all too dangerous to let his mind settle on them for too long.

and what better distraction than burying his face between your thighs. it’s hard to think of much when he hasn’t bothered to stop lapping at your cunt long enough to take a breath in a couple minutes. suffocating was the least of his concerns when the clench around his fingers lets him know your orgasm is just around the corner. meguru swears that your pathetic little whimpers and the slick dripping down his chin are like a straight hit of dopamine to his brain and he’s at real risk of addiction at this point. lidded amber eyes travel up to watch your expression twist into one of pleasure as you gasp out his name. now that catches his interest. when your vision clears and your brain is functioning again after that intense high, you search for his comfort as if you had done any of the hard work. but all you’re met with is that signature wild look that he gets when he brushing past the enemy team’s defense straight towards his goal. it’s your only warning that he’s far from tired and even farther from sated. “if i can keep going, so can you baby. i know you have more for me. jus’ need t’see you make that face one more time.” you have no room to protest, his tongue already finding your clit and working towards bringing you to the edge once again. by your fourth time cumming, you’re sobbing for a break and debating whether you should charge him four times over or give him a star for each one.

someone who was on board with your system from the second that you explained how it worked, was shidou ryusei. what better way to celebrate another one of his blood pumping, heart stopping performances than racing to the locker room to blow a load in his favorite girl while his teammates debrief with the coach? to him it was simple, you fuck him, you feed him, you take care of him, you spend time with him. shidou is, by all of his definitions, dating you. while some might be turned off by the idea of dating someone who isn’t offering exclusivity, he didn’t see it as much of an obstacle. not when he spent star stickers like a gambler on a slot machine, having you multiple times a week if the economy allowed it. and if he’s short a few, no worries, ryusei is quite the negotiator. it starts one week when he’s only missing a star or two, promising he’ll pay back the difference, you know he’s a good customer. it’s probably not a good idea to give in to him though, as the next time he wants a private training session, he’ll insist they’re only nine stars for him. he has made all kinds of fake coupons from 50% Off! to Buy One Get One Free! to even a homemade punch card in his own terrible handwriting. shidou was the first one to ever get a star taken away when he tried to give you an arby’s gift card in exchange for a blowjob. he didn’t try that tactic again.

the worst is when he tries to haggle in the middle of sex. your legs are thrown over his shoulders and his tip is kissing your cervix when he chooses to whine about not being able to kiss you because he has no stars left. he worked too hard to get good star credit, he can’t go into star debt!! “ and with his lips just hovering over yours, his hot breath fanning across your face, how could you say no? in a moment of weakness, you have unfortunately given an inch to shidou, infamous mile taker, and now it’s hard to get him to pay for any of his kisses, especially while he’s fucking you. you thank god that at the very least no one knows he’s been getting them for free… if only shidou would allow your life to be that easy. even worse than giving him an inch, you expected shidou to keep a secret. and you thought his big mouth was something you liked about him. until he’s using it to brag to everyone that he’s your favorite, practically your boyfriend, all because you let him get away with a smooch here and there. let’s just say you had to give out a lot of free kisses to smooth over the problem his bragging habits created.

honestly ryusei was starting to cause a lot of confusion outside of the team with his antics. what with his always hanging off your arm, giving you as much affection as you’d tolerate, calling you sweet nicknames. the people in your life were actually starting to believe you two were dating. not that shidou does anything to discourage such rumors, only grinning and agreeing every time someone mistakes you as a couple. hell, he was starting to get you confused, saying things during your training sessions that certainly didn’t fit the transactional nature of the act. “holy shit you’re so tight- love this pussy, l-love you so much. say my name. c’mon baby, say you love me and i’ll make you feel so fucking good.” and only because ryusei always makes good on his promises do you allow yourself another moment of weakness.

itoshi rin didn’t have much interest or faith in you upon first introduction. he sized you up as some nobody doing this whole manager thing as a fun extracurricular, so as long as you stayed out of his way he didn’t care what you did. with his luck, he shouldn’t be surprised that you were immediately in his way, extremely often, rambling to him about ideas and strategies that he had no intention on listening to. although even he could admit, he understood why the others were so easily charmed by you. he was wrong about how seriously you took your job. not that it changed anything. at least that’s what rin tells himself, but in reality your relentless efforts and endless dedication to supporting all of them was something that spoke to him, made him a bit soft for you. it didn’t help that you were his type in every sense of the word, your attractiveness doing nothing but make feigning indifference a lot harder for rin. your seemingly endless patience didn’t help either. you always responded in kind to all of rin’s harsh words and cold stares, never let his sour attitude deter your subtle acts of service like getting grass stains out of his uniform and making sure he stays unbothered during his yoga. against his will, he was slowly warming up to you, but you were still caught off guard when rin started cashing in his stars, even if it was just a meal. he had lots of them sitting idle on the chart waiting to be used, so you supposed it was only natural for him to get some free food out of it. but you were even more taken aback when a couple days later he requested a massage from you with insistence that he only asks because he’s been extremely tense as of late. which wasn’t entirely untrue. rin had been very tense. just not from anything soccer related like he’d like you to believe. he was tense from the stress of his budding feelings for you combined with the dread of knowing he probably will never have you all to himself. at least not with this stupid reward system in place.

he despises it. he absolutely hates going about his day knowing there are other guys, his shithead teammates, that are getting your time, attention, and affection for the price of a couple of stupid fucking stickers. he misses the days when shidou’s incessant bragging about how many times he was able to make you cum or bachira’s unnecessary details of what your pussy tastes like didn’t bother him. now his blood boils to hear them talk about you like that. that kind of anger makes it clear to him that being your friend was simply not an option anymore. which is how he settled on getting a massage from you. he would satisfy this overwhelming craving he has for you and go back to normal and be able to focus solely on becoming best in the world again without thoughts of you plaguing his mind. that was his hope going into it, but feeling your warm touch on his bare back, melting away years of untreated knots and neglected aches in his body, he could almost blush at the intimacy he feels. especially when that foreign kindness he loves so much is on display as you reassure him that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about and that you’re proud he finally put his pride aside long enough to let you help him. you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker now. no use in struggling so hard, he supposes, as some part of him knows he’s doomed to fall sooner or later. perhaps it’s time to surrender. he fought a good fight, but his greed for you was candidly too tough of an opponent.

and to rin, surrender looked like asking you when’s the soonest he could book a private training session. you don’t think you could look any more shocked. rin had a quick turn around from someone you doubted even liked you, to someone reserving as much of your time as his stars could buy. the more often he was with you, the less time you spent giving those lukewarm brats the treatment he wants reserved for him. and he wishes he gave in a lot sooner when he feels the wet heat of your mouth around his cock for the first time. how fast he would’ve folded if he knew how pretty you would look on your knees for him. rin tried to be gentle and let you set the pace, but between hissing out curses and barely biting back moans, that same greed to get more from you has his hand twisting itself in your hair and pushing down on the back of your head. he couldn’t help it. and it was so worth it to watch you choke and sputter around his length but never pull away. he knew you weren’t a quitter. “shit, feels good… don’t stop,” he all but gasps, hips instinctively jumping to reach further down your throat, grip tightening when you try to come up for air. after a long moment of breathing through your nose you relax enough to let him ease himself the rest of the way in. rin sighs in relief when your nose finally presses against his pelvis. the way you look up at him starry-eyed and full of adoration made his chest feel heavy with desire to be the only one you ever look at. it drives him crazy that any guy on the team can see you like this, and that heartache has rin fucking your face to forget it. “fuckkk. don’t look away, eyes on me, g’nna cum in that pretty mouth.”

you couldn’t deny that your new attempt at encouraging the team had its kinks. while overall the amount of arguments that broke out between players lessened to keep on good star-earning behavior, you could tell that it came with its own set of tension creating problems. you also couldn’t deny that being pulled in every direction by men vying for your attention was both very time consuming and extremely gratifying, but you think you manage it well. save for when they were already pumped up with adrenaline from a game, that is when real issues arise. especially when a player from the enemy team thinks it’s a good idea to try and hit on the cute little lady holding the clipboard. fatal mistake.

it starts with your favorite pot stirrer, bachira, calling out from his position, making everyone else on the team aware of the situation. “no shot dude, she don’t want you! focus on losing!” you’re confident you can diffuse whatever is about to go down before you notice rin leaving the ball alone in centerfield to beeline straight towards you. threats are flying from his lips on approach, quick to get in the guy’s face, planting his hands on his shoulders to shove him back. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing? i’ll kill you if you don’t get the fuck away from her.” you think maybe you have a shot of getting rin under control if you just- your eyes widen in horror as a flash moves in from your peripheral. there are no words, just shidou drop kicking this poor stranger at top speed. you cringe as you watch shidou knocks this guy off his feet, cleats first, taking rin down with him. what a way to earn a red card.

this was a fun project and request tysm!!! i just went about it in the interpretation i found most interesting, i really hope it was to your liking!!!

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[k-hotchoisan]

mmmmmm been thinkin abt photographer!san right nd he is know for his boudoir photography but his latest client’s got him in a chokehold like god how is she so fuckin sexy nd he can’t focus at all bc fuck all he wants to do is fuck her senseless— HELP

Your wish is my command Angel! Thank you for being patient 😘

As always, enjoy 🩷

snap.

<Choi san x fem!reader>

Synopsis: encouraged by your friend, you give boudoir photography a try after recovering from a break up, you find yourself doing more than just be a model.

Genres/warnings: smut, boudoir photographer!San x model!reader, sexual tension, unprotected sex, cream pies, mention of oral

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

“Boudoir photography?” You reiterate. Your friend nods.

“A friend of a friend of a friend tried it recently and apparently she’s been full of confidence. Her boyfriend adores it too!” Your friend squeals.

You scrunch your eyebrows, wondering how semi-nude photos taken by a professional photographer in this niche would boost one’s confidence.

Your friend’s eyes dart to you again, and then your phone pings. You look at the link your friend sent you. It’s a referral code for a promotion. You turn to her, gaze still dripping with skepticism.

“Come on, just try it. You’re a lovely person and you deserve to see it for yourself! Boudoir photography might really help at not being constantly self critical.”

You weren’t an entirely insecure person, and you were sure of that. It’s just that, after the rough break up with your ex, and seeing them move on instantly (like two fuckin weeks) with a new partner, undoubtedly was a gut punch to your self esteem, while you were still stuck grieving over the lost relationship and wasted time.

You’ve heard of boudoir photography, but you’ve never actually understood the concept of it, considering that it was niche, and that you don’t really know the point of it. You glance down at the referral link before deciding to just fuck it and sign up.

San is working overtime again, meticulously editing and touching up the photos. It’s become a natural part of him to almost be a perfectionist, whether when on the ground taking photos of the model or the post editing process. But he never loses the sight of letting the women shine naturally through their photos. After all, in such a niche market, they picked him. Definitely, he has his mix of male boudoir models, but the women evidently take up a higher ratio. He understands that one of the most important aspects of boudoir photography is trust and comfort with his models, which has them coming back for more sessions, sometimes even with their partners.

Setting up his own business in such a niche market was difficult of course, and he’s grateful that he’s managed to make a name for himself. But sometimes he’s grateful that his good looks are an added bonus to drawing in his clients.

His email pings and it makes him pause his work. Maybe he should finish it tomorrow. San glances at the fresh email that sits in his inbox.

An appointment via referral.

He opens it, and looks through the client’s information. At the bottom box for comments, sits a short question.

[Just wondering, what should I expect for my appointment? Is there anything I should prepare?]

He takes a moment before he drafts a reply.

[Hey there! Nice to meet you. I’m Choi San, boudoir photographer of Woodie’s Studios. First of all, thank you for choosing our studio for your boudoir experience!

Regarding your question, come in with an open mind. For what to wear, you may bring a set of clothes/lingerie of whatever you feel confident in.

I don’t bite, I promise!]

He reads the reply a second time before he hits send. It’s not as if it’s the first time he’s gotten questions like these anyway. His train of concentration is broken, so he decides to call it a night.

You reach the opaque door of a clean-looking studio apartment. The sign has San’s studio name and logo imprinted on it, so you’re sure that you are at the right location.

You press the door bell and it chimes a lovely tune. There is a quiet pause, before the door handle clicks and the door itself pulls back. Before you stood a really, no, an insanely good looking, tall male. His glasses rest loosely on the bridge of his nose as his small eyes meet yours. His brunette hair is slightly messy. He wears an expression of confusion at first, but it turns into something unreadable. You think for a spilt second that he may have gotten the wrong client, but your rationale reminds you that you did send him photos of yourself so he’s able to recognise you. You blink once, then twice because you were starting to get lost at how handsome your photographer was.

“Choi San..?” you say, with a small tilt of your head.

Then it’s his turn to blink, and he snaps out of that small trance he seemed to be caught in for a few seconds. Then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he greets you.

“Hey! Y/n right? Sorry, was tryna recognise you. I promise I don’t usually take that long to process”, he chuckles, pulling the door wider as he ushers you in, reminding you to switch out your shoes for the apartment slippers.

The hallway San brings you down is brightly lit and spilt into a couple of sections which you assumed one of them would be the photo studio itself. A couple of posters of pin up girls hang on the walls, all of them beautiful and stunning.

He then stops at a glass door and pushes it, to what you assumed to be his office.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Any preferences?”, he gestures. You shake your head as you let yourself sink into the velvet couch, gingerly leaving your bag of clothing beside you. San gives a polite nod and excuses himself to the pantry.

And the moment the door shuts behind him, he tears his glasses off the bridge of his nose and hooks the branch onto his collar.

His hand is placed over his heart.

San has photographed many different women over the course of his career, some breathtakingly beautiful. But none has ever made his heart skip a beat and caused his words to be stuck at the back of his throat, not like you did. He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you looked like—the pictures you sent served that purpose. Maybe it was the fact that he never expected you to look like that in real life, and for once, he almost doesn’t know how to react. His thoughts are all over the place as he paces into the pantry to prepare your tea. As he’s dipping the tea bag into the piping hot water, he begins feeling self conscious—was his hair too shrivelled? Did he smell bad? Was there something on his face? He tightens his grip on the mug and hastily makes his way back to his office.

San returns, with a smile on his face as he settles the cup onto the coffee table before you, and he joins you, seated on a velvet armchair across you.

“Take your time”, he reassures. “We can start after this, if you’re feeling comfortable, or we can just talk a little to ease your nerves.” It doesn’t take you much to think—you opt for the latter of course.

San laughs and nods. “I get that a lot, especially from first time female clients. It’s valid of course, having a male being your photographer for boudoir can sound off-putting. Perhaps looking at my portfolio might put you slightly at ease?” He reaches out for a large and thick leather-bound photo album. You let it rest on your lap as you receive it with a soft “thank you”, and flip the album open, and you’re instantly awestruck—San’s work spoke for himself. The models were diverse, both in nationalities and body shapes, all equally stunning and sensual in their own expressive ways. The only common denominator was the glint of genuine emotion and confidence reflected in their eyes.

You wonder to yourself—could you look and feel as confident as them? As you skim through the pictures, you feel yourself falling in love with the models as well—their genuine smiles when they do and the gazes they give.

When San catches himself staring at you being absorbed in admiring his portfolios, he feels his cheeks flush and he looks down, wondering what you think of it all.

“I see why you have so many clients. The pictures are gorgeous”, you say, shutting the photo album and handing it back to him. San flashes a sheepish smile and mutters a “thank you” loud enough for you to hear. The silence in the room remains a for awhile as you sip the tea, letting it calm your nerves. You don’t even know it but the person with actual jittery nerves was San himself, a feeling that he never expected to feel since the last time he did was when he started out this business three years ago.

“So… what’s the goal of being a boudoir model, if you don’t mind me asking? Like was it a long time thing you wanted to try or was it something spontaneous?” He asks to break the silence.

“I broke up with my ex recently”, you respond curtly, before taking another sip of the tea. Damn, this is some good ass tea. San blinks at your reply, unsure of what to make out of the bluntness. Before he attempts to reply, you continue, “and my friend sent me a referral to your studio, and I thought to myself, why not? I want to feel confident in my own skin. Also, I think it’s an interesting way of self exploration.” Your gaze meets his, and it’s his turn to look awestruck. You try to ignore the flutter in your chest when he laughs softly, when his smile reaches his eyes. It’s the way that he’s confident of his craft, and it’s making you warm up to him even more.

Your fingertips tap on the mug softly. Your gaze lands on the photobook once more.

“Does taking such risqué pictures affect you when you first started out?” You ask before taking another sip. San ponders about the question for awhile. He has people asking him that before, but for some reason, he wants to be slightly more transparent with you.

“I don’t see about my clients in a sexual way, even if they physically look appealing to me. In the end, self confidence and comfort always comes first, and I think that’s what I enjoy seeing in my clients when they become more comfortable in their own skin. People don’t understand how difficult it is to fully love yourself”, he replies.

That’s when you understand why San’s photography studio had so many recurring clients.

“Why boudoir? I think sensuality and intimacy is a form of art. It’s beautiful—watching people discover parts of themselves they never knew existed and falling in love. You don’t have to be conventionally attractive to be a boudoir model.

The money’s good, of course, but the satisfaction of watching my clients giving me feedback of them realising they deserve to love themselves more, or discovering other sides of themselves is nothing short of rewarding.”

By the time he’s done explaining, you feel a rush of confidence in yourself. It’s only been about ten minutes since the both of you just sat and talked, but you see that he definitely prioritises your comfort before he even begins the sessions. You ball your fingers into a fist, meeting San’s gaze with determination, telling him, “I think I’m ready.”

San’s eyes brighten up. “Great! You can use the bathroom to the left, and I’ll meet you at the photo studio just opposite the office.” He stands up, opening the door for you, and you bow slightly in courtesy as you head to the washroom to change. San’s heart beats faster, wondering what you’re gonna wear for the shoot.

San is fixing the sheets of the bed, then the studio lights at the perfect angle he wants it to be. His heart is still racing as he walks over to the tripod, glancing over at the door from time to time, awaiting for your arrival.

He perks up when he sees you walk in with a bathrobe on and he greets you cheerfully again, trying to hide his excitement.

You wave back with a smile, letting the environment of the photo studio sink in. The basic package for first timers consisted of a bed shoot, so it’s no surprise you see a bed in the middle of the room, covered in white. The bed looks comfy and you giggle to yourself, wondering if you’d end up falling asleep mid-shoot from how nice the bed looks.

“Anytime you’re ready”, San reminds you, carrying the tripod in one hand, his biceps flexing as he does, and it makes you blush slightly, which was ridiculous. Why are you swooning over your handsome photographer carrying the tripod with one arm? Suddenly you’re self conscious again, your fingers clutching against the black bathrobe. It was frustrating that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was making you nervous, but you weren’t about to back out.

San continues to adjust his camera on the tripod, and his gaze absentmindedly shifts towards you, and his breath gets stuck in his throat, watching you undress from the bathrobe, revealing a white button up over black lace lingerie. It’s not anything new, but for some reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes off you—the way the panties hugs your hips and the bra cups your breasts, the garter belt hugging your waist and the straps hanging past your panties. He watches you climb onto the bed, eyes shutting briefly as you sink into the mattress with a soft smile.

He’s not confident that he’s able to last through the shoot, not when you’re looking like that.

“Is it too cold here?” San asks, trying to divert his attention from his perverse thoughts. You pop up from the sheets, the collars of the shirt slipping past your shoulders, obviously too big for you. That does nothing to help him with his thoughts.

“No, I think the temperature’s okay. Shall we get started?” You ask, buttoning up your shirt, the white material pathetically sheer that San is able to see the black bra peeking through.

The sight of you in an oversized shirt on, with no pants, just your underwear on is like a meal for San’s eyes. He hides behind the camera to hide his flushing cheeks, only to face your body through the viewfinder, watching you preparing to pose as you position yourself at the end of the bed, turning your body slightly to the side with one leg up, your thighs in full view, with the sleeves of the shirt covering most of your fingers, and your gaze right into the camera lens.

San takes a deep breath. Forty five minutes. He can do this.

“Sure. Ready whenever you are, y/n.”

It turns out to be a very agonising forty five minutes. While the both of you were cracking jokes during the shoot, San finds himself getting more distracted when you gradually remove your shirt, and when your poses grow ever more risqué—at one point you remove your bra and fit your shirt over again, which definitely made San grow very restless when he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your bare chest.

Midway through the shoot, all that swarms his mind is wondering how your body would feel against his, how your bare skin would feel under his hands, what kind of faces you would make when you’re under him.

What kind of noises you would make for him when he fits his cock right into you. He wants to fuck you so hard that your mind goes blank—so good that you’ll never remember your ex.

San blinks, his finger still on the shutter button. He doesn’t know what washed over him, but what he does know is the taut feeling in his pants, and he internally heaves a sigh of relief that he decided to wear cargo pants. Nonetheless, he hopes that it isn’t obvious. Well, it shouldn’t be, as long as you don’t ask for close up shots.

“San! Could you come closer for my close ups?” You call out, letting the collar of your shirt fall off your shoulder once more, revealing your bare shoulders, and reminding him that you were still braless underneath the loose clothing article.

Fuck.

San forces a smile, unlatching his camera and trying to walk normally without letting his erection steal your attention.

He reaches to where you are, reminding himself to stay professional, but when he meets your playful gaze, all he wants to do is pin you down. Your eyes twinkle with allure as you prepare your next pose. You get it now—the confidence that slowly trickles into you after every photo taken. You’ve never realised that you had this side of yourself, not until now, and you love it.

The close up shots only spell another layer of doom for San—he adores the budding confidence that you exude, but it makes it even harder for him to hold back, watching you make sultry expressions and poses close up. Through the viewfinder, his eyes try to focus on taking the photo but he finds himself being entranced by your stare. He counts down, then taking a few shots, not missing the growing smile you had.

San puts his camera away, reaching forward to your face to remove a stray hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, and his touch is warm on your face. It’s then you realise how physically close San is to you—you smell his cologne and it leaves your mind blank for a spilt second. He’s absorbed in fixing your hair, combing the strays off your face, the sound of his quiet breathing the only thing you hear. You look away, wondering if your heartbeat is loud enough for him to hear, and you hope it isn’t. San gives you a soft smile when his eyes finally meet yours.

He pulls back, preparing to take his camera for the next shot, but his leg gets tangled in the sheets.

Everything happens in a spilt second—his knee that shifts forward at first, pressing against the sheet that has unknowingly tangled around his other leg, then San trying to get up quickly with the tangled leg, realising a little too late by the time he falls right onto the bed.

Right onto you.

He almost squishes you. Almost. But he lands above you, supported by his elbows just in time before his body is in contact with yours.

Your heart races, way too quick for you to even process what just occurred. All knew you was:

One; San is right above you,

Two; his lips are hovering over yours,

Three; you feel something pressing against your pelvis.

And San stares down at you, his heart beating in his ears. He takes in the sight of you below him—eyes looking up at him through fluttered lashes, your heat radiating against his skin, your lips slightly parted in surprise.

As well as the strain in his pants when his eyes instinctively lower to your bare chest, your nipples peeking through your shirt, and that his little problem is just resting right on you.

“I’m sorry”, San whispers, breaking the silence that had hung between the both of you. “This usually doesn’t happen…”

You crack an amused smile. “Usually?”you reiterate teasingly. A tint of red flushes San’s cheeks and his clothed erection presses harder against your bare skin, and it makes you bite your lip.

“Fuck. I mean, this never happens. It’s just.. I’ve never felt this way about my boudoir models…”, he trails off. “I think you’re fucking stunning since you entered the studio, and I think you’re even more stunning now.”

Your heart flutters at his confession and this time, you feel yourself blush. A soft laugh escapes from the male above you when he sees you avoid eye contact from the shyness. His strings of rationale—yelling at him to stay professional—is snapping. He’s not lying. He’s never felt so attracted to any of his models before, until you, and now that he has you trapped under him, he doesn’t want to lose that chance.

“Should we end the session here?” San asks, with a quick glance at your pretty red lips.

Your fingers are playing with the dangling silver chain that he wears. He lets you, waiting for your response before he catches your gaze dances back to meet his again. Your hands shift to caress San’s jaw, and he takes it as a sign to make his move. You inhale softly as you feel his lips press onto yours, and it makes your head spin with glee. He tastes so heavenly, and your legs clench at the feeling that flutters between your thighs.

San slightly presses his body weight onto you, his erection only growing harder against your thigh. But it looks like he’s taking his time.

His fingertips warm your skin, and he lets them slip up your body, until he’s at your chest, barely covered by the sheer cotton material. His thumbs grazes against your nipples, and you gasp in between open mouthed kisses. You feel him smile, and he applies pressure, and the sensation goes right to your pussy.

He pulls back, watching your lip stick smudged, and your eyes dilate. You can’t help but feel entranced by San, and now you’re wondering how his face would look like when he falls apart.

And it makes you excited.

San lulls you back from your thoughts when you feel his lips suck softly against your neck, and now your fingers are playing with his soft locks of hair.

He’s slightly embarrassed at the way he’s growing even harder when he gingerly peels the white shirt away. His hands cup your bare tits, and he lowers himself to your left tit, giving it a couple of hungry licks and sucks, leaving your back arching and your mouth agape from how ticklish his tongue feels as he flicks your nipple. He doesn’t neglect the other nipple, giving it the same attention as he relishes in the way you fall apart for him. When he has his fun of sucking and making sure your nipples swell while you moan and tug his hair, he pulls away.

He sits up, pulls his shirt over his head and you’re left drooling at how chiseled his body looks. San unbuttons his pants and yanks it off, alongside his boxers, and you watch with awe as his cock springs out—hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your panties are tugged off you in no time, and you don’t miss the way his cock twitches when his eyes land on your slick covered cunt.

“You’re gonna be the death of me”, you hear him mutter before he collides his lips against yours once more. You squeal when you feel his fingers press onto your clit, giving it small rubs, watching and soaking your reactions—your whines and whimpers. There is a dull buzz in your mind every time your bundle of nerves get stimulated, and it builds up in your tummy.

“Oh god, you’re getting even wetter”, he sighs, his fingers completely soaked.

“It feels good. So good. Keep doing that”, you whisper, your fingers pressing against his arm. Your moans only grow louder as San picks up the speed on rubbing your clit, and it’s sending you over the edge way quicker than you wanted to.

San lowers himself to your head, and his husky voice vibrates in your ears.

“That’s it, keep coming undone. Let your mind shut off. You look so fucking beautiful like that.”

“San, San, fuck. I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck-“

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, your body tensing as pleasure becomes the only thing you know. You barely catch onto the dirty things San is telling you, but you know he’s encouraging you to cum on his fingers like a good girl.

He makes sure he has your orgasm drawn out as long as possible, your mind completely blown out at that point. San sucks off your arousal on his fingers, before giving his cock a few pumps.

“You taste like heaven, babe. I’ll get a taste of that cunt soon, but right now, I really can’t wait”, San huffs, trying to keep himself composed as he slowly fucks his hand.

“San, hurry up, please. I need you, so fucking bad”, you whine, your fingers pulling your wet folds open for him.

His breathing goes heavy at your words. “Damn, the shoot really got you heated,” San teases.

“I can’t help it if my photographer makes me wet”, you reply with a playful smile.

Something seems to snap in San when he hears that—all he’s thinking about is wanting to drive his cock so deep into you that your mind completely blanks out.

So that’s what he does.

San lines up his cock to your entrance and pushes and inch in. His eyes dart to your face, licking the bottom of his lip when he watches your face contort into pleasure. His hands stroke your thighs as he pushes in a couple more inches, soaking in your broken moans as he stretches you out. He forces himself to stay composed despite the fact that you’re squeezing him with your warm and soft walls.

He manages to bury himself right to the hilt and he gasps at how perfectly fitted his cock is in you, an uncontrollable moan escaping his lips when he feels you convulse around his cock.

“San, you’re so big. I’m so filled”, you whimper through glazed eyes, his cock completely cutting off other senses as your thighs tremble. A smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, pretty”, San tells you. Despite that, he waits for your green signal before he pulls out and drives his cock right into you.

Your mind switches off the moment his cock is fucking your pussy, because that’s all that matters. It’s so good. So fucking good.

His hands slither to your wrists, and has them pinned over your head as his cock pistons into you. You swear he’s driving you to be cock dumb by the end of this, but not like you fucking minded anyway.

“Look at you. Growing stupid over my cock already. So fucking adorable.”

You only nod in reply, biting your lip as his cock continues to render you speechless. Now San has completely flooded into the smallest crooks of your mind. San has his mind blank, his eyes darting from your fucked out expression to your bouncing tits.

Your cunt flutters once again and tears are pooling at the corner of eyes. The sounds of wet skin slapping echo around the studio.

“…wanna touch you”, you mutter. Despite the face that you loved that he was holding you down, you are feeling desperate to feel his skin as you dance on the fence of your orgasm. San releases your wrists, and he props himself better as he continues to pound into you, hitting the soft, spongy spot over and over again when he has your legs folded. When his pulls out, his cock is covered in a creamy mess. His head spins and his ego inflates at the thought him being the one who drove you to this point of mind blanking pleasure.

“No, no, I’m gonna cum again. So good. San!” His name leaving your lips as a whine. Your hands are gripping onto the loose unbuttoned sleeves of your shirt. His hands take yours and places them on his on his sides, and he groans at the way you’re clawing him.

“Shit. Fuck!” San curses when you cream on his cock even more on top of your walls hugging him tightly. You let go on his cock with a pleasured sob, legs twitching.

It’s not long before a long drawn out moan San releases as his warm cum completely floods your tight hole. He swears he wants to keep his cock tucked in your pussy because it feels that fucking good.

His face—oh, his fucking face when he orgasms. You barely recover from your second orgasm to watch San fall apart while he empties in your pussy, and it almost drives you to your third orgasm. Almost.

The both of you remain still for a moment, only breathing filling in the silence. Then, San slowly pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks out of your abused hole.

San pulls back, and he realises that he’s never seen a more beautiful sight—you, splayed out in nude, only covered by a measly white shirt that inevitably drives him crazy, with cum leaking out of your pretty hole while your body twitches against the white sheets.

He thinks that it’s a pity that his camera is out of reach, because it’s such a beautiful shot.

You glance at San with a shy smile as he hands you your panties. He hooks the your legs into the panties and pulls it up to your hips. You feel another load stain your panties while your thighs twitch.

San dresses himself quickly and extends his arm for you to take as he leads you off the bed. He knows he’s got extra work to wash the sheets but that’s the least of his worries.

What throws you off is when he pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple.

“I promise I’ve never done to any of my clients”, he reiterates.

“Unprofessional”, you tease, your hands sneaking up his shirt.

“Can’t fucking help it. I never knew fucking an Angel in my studio would be this exhilarating. It makes the thought of washing the bedsheets bearable”, he teases back, letting his fingers tangle in your hair.

Your mind goes completely blank when he tells you to wash out the loads in you, so he’ll fill you up once more when he brings you home, which earns him a slap on the chest. He gestures you to go change up, watching the way you remove your shirt to reveal your bare back, and he makes a mental note to start fucking you from behind.

And back at his place, he does. His eyes are hyper focused on the way your ass bounces on his cock. A loud slap reverberates in his room followed by a whimper.

He stills in you, spilling his load once more into your abused cunt as you cream all over him once again.

Then he has you wrapped up in his arms, peppering you with kisses as you’re teetering off your high.

“Stay over, won’t you?”, San requests, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears. You’re beginning to feel completely enamoured by the male. You nod as you melt into his arms.

San thinks it’s ridiculous how hard and fast he fell for you, but he’s confident that you’re his favourite model, ever.

[uchihaharlot]

Oooh! Thirsty requests? Don’t mind if I do 🤭

I love the Uchiha men! (Duh) So, what is their favorite sex position that really does it for them, really gets them going and busting the fastest and hardest? 👀💥

Ok what the fuck, this is hawt and it took me mere seconds to formulate exactly which positions the boys instinctively bust.

NSFW; afab; holy fuck this is hot and I haven’t even drafted it 🚨:

Madara: Riding him for the first time.

• This man’s sole purpose is to spread his seed like peanut butter, preferably within his wife’s spongey wet cunt.

• Top/Bottom is never an option for debate, she’s either taken by surprise bent over something forward or underneath him. Deliciously tormented with his rough and abrasive thrusts. Madara does not allow such luxury in the way of her desires. Even if she is endlessly pleased, something is missing.

• If his wife manages, and it’s a risk. To get on top of him…Madara won’t even know how to cope with the shift in power. He is so unpredictable as it is, the urge to maneuver her submissive to him is strong, but falters.

• Seeing her enjoy him this way, like actually enjoy it more than usual…is provocative and endearing. Though sex is usually overstimulating with him — copious amounts of hours in bed laid to the mating press. She had back sores once, but those were always soothed. He’s not a complete hooligan.

• But he is a heathen, so in this regard Madara definitely takes the opportunity to actually acknowledge her body’s many appealing angles. Differences on her soft supple skin are highlighted in the dimly lit bedroom. They reflect and make his head spin, red orbs elicit for the first time and she’s under the scope of his sharingan. It’s new and invigorating and one touch of a soft breast with rough hands makes her moan out his name for the first time ever. Both of them are deliriously overcome with the slightest touch.

• Oops. He shoots his shot too soon after hearing his name. 🫥 He wants to disappear in that moment, Madara can’t cope…sensing a pattern here? But it was so good, and she is undeniably beautiful. Purebred Uchiha, like him. Maybe if he was more….sensual and less of a brute? She would garner this reaction next time?

• This brings me to a bonus point with Madara, lol. The second position he comes fast would undoubtedly be his favorite, damn his wife for having a voice that cradles soft moans onto his left ear, for the second time he comes fast. Barely three minutes in.

Obito: Making out while sitting in his lap.

• 🫠 I don’t want to embarrass this man, but my fucking head just — cannot not go there. Sweet summer child thought that giving head was making out the first time he heard the phrase (at 14 no less).

• So he won’t tell her he is a grown ass virgin, but he really doesn’t need to. Obito acts with hesitation below that of a wet blanket when alone with his s/o. Shaky here and there, the surprised gasps he makes when her lips feather kisses like spring rain to his lips. Obito is besotted. Wholeheartedly leaking like a faucet in his slacks.

• I want to give this man the benefit I really do, finding it hard to keep it….yea no. They’re not even at that point of business when Obito let out stifled sound between a moan and low grunt. All she did was grind into his throbbing cock. 🫡 Ships sunk, and like with most; the captain goes down too.

• This woman, bless her heart as well. Has the patience of a god. She will make some cute pun about needing to check his briefs more thoroughly and Obito is so fucking flustered; ommggg. It’s unfortunate that he’s picked up on coping skills from Madara. He too, wants to hide.

• Divine, Obito thinks this of her. Taking his sad floppy manhood, which is covered in his premature cum as he watches her slurp him in his mouth. Making some pun about how wasteful but that she forgives him if he makes up for it.

• Will suck until he is hard again, which is not even thirty seconds. Obito also, like most Uchiha men, is subjected to his eyes. Red spun pearls capture her gaze as she sits in his lap on the recliner. This has always been a dream! It’s happening!

• Then it isn’t, no. Not really. Not again! His s/o is not even the slightest bit surprised when Obito starts to pulse within her. She’s barely sunk her self silly on his fat cock.

• ‘It’s ok, Obi. Just means you’re really excited for me.’ Hnngggg, that didn’t help and neither did the slow up and down motions or her hips rolling. Obito couldn’t decide if he was cumming — maybe dying? He was moaning sure, in her mouth and goddamn she was filthy in that moment. ‘Good boy…every drop.’

• No question about it, he was already finishing before the words left her lips to his in a searing kiss.

Shisui: On her stomach from behind.

• Brb. Internally and externally exploding at this idea. Shisui is so sweet, sensual with his partner(s). The king of making any woman wet his bed like a geyser.

• Definitely prefers eye contact positions — in his lap is a close second to finishing first. Where he can grip your hips and thighs, but if there is no time to spare. Oh, he knows his own defeat and how to unleash it.

• The second this woman is flat on her stomach, Shisui eagerly slips between her swollen folds. He’s got her legs shut and cages her entire body with his muscular frame. Having mercilessly devoured her like a five star Michelin three course meal prior, she’s beyond the realms of pleasure. This is the promise land.

• This Uchiha, too, transcends the first drag in and out of her warmth. So slick, cramped. A warm hug for his cock. Shisui would think it’s a game to hold it in, but that won’t be possible.

• As if the confines of her weeping cunt weren’t enough, it’s the sight that he dials in at and shamelessly data bases to his core memory. The image alone of watching his cock emerge just to disappear over and over again sends Shisui spiraling — whimpering usually.

• Shisui is a man of precision, ok? Not in this position though. He’ll get sloppy and plant an assortment of kisses and light nips to her back and shoulders just as he spurts the last remaining drops of Uchiha essence inside her.

• Lastly, when he slips out — still half cocked, Shisui doesn’t rock anything less than a semi. He will place his thumbs on either ass cheek, speading them open to see his cum leak out her gorgeous sanctuary he makes home to his seed.

Itachi: Front spooning her in the morning.

• Usually I write Itachi on the side of inexperienced and new. Not today; this man can be deplorable in bed and has some rather… nifty kinks. Though today we will focus on what makes Uchiha Itachi a ten second Tom.

• Also an Uchiha who adores eye contact. It’s a must. Every aspect of her body is unique and imprinted to his front temporal lobe. Some of it mundane, majority of it not.

• Itachi is an early bird (heh). So is she, and with that goes the saying — the early bird gets the worm. Or gives it. Seeing her in the throes of sleep, soft, serene and just down right beautiful. He’s down bad, rocking that good ole’ Hashirama hard as a rock morning wood. Itachi will think he’s going to make an everlasting memory, but the second his s/o opens her eyes he’s just so desperate.

• Yutakas are are simply one of the best articles of clothing. Comfortable, stylish and elegant — with a side of easy access. Itachi makes haste to disrobe them, while making to push her on her back…

• While his s/o all on board for being his pillow princess. This morning she hikes a leg over his hip and gives him a kiss so severely wanton, Itachi slips through drenched folds and gently rocks into her. Cradling her closer to his chest.

• More intimate than intimate, Itachi usually strides for ‘slow and steady’ for an everlasting experience. Today she’s insatiable. The whimper his name tumbles through subsequently has Itachi rutting harder and faster. Once those delicate muscles wrapped around his cock start sucking him in and swallowing him does he realize it’s only been about two minutes.

• Two minutes is not enough, but if she’s coming, so is he. An incredible group effort by them both. Itachi pants in her ear as their respective orgasms feed pleasure to one another.

[yiichan]

KYII'ᔕ TᕼOᑌGᕼTᔕ Oᖴ TᕼE ᗪᗩY 🌷💌 — NSFW, HYBRID AU

IMAGINE — yandere!poly!hybrids!vocalunit x gn!human!you.

WARNINGS — yandere/obsessive elements, hybrid AU, poly relationship elements, implied ot13 background, smut elements inclusive of breeding kink and praise kink.

WRITER'S NOTES — i was thinking about writing hybrid!svtot13 BUT i'm kind of lazy (even though i had an whole ass draft and im supposed to be writing that hoshi fic, i finished that yandere hoshi fic BUT i just realised it does not match the request so another day i guess ): ) so here is some vocal unit hybrid thingies lol (okay this is a universe btw). AND NO IM NOT GOING TO WRITE THAT WHOLE ASS LONG OT13 DRABBLE WITH SMUT IM BAD AT THAT, BESIDES IF I EVER WROTE PIAKPIAK SCENES IT WOULD BE x MALE READER! ):

speical mention — @sousydive

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ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who was the second to arrive in this household, but calls the shots anyway. ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who acts all angel-like and act weak in front of you so you would give him more attention. ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who demands you to brush his fur with that high quality set everyday for at least half an hour.

ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who has a high sex stamina and drive (i mean, he is a rabbit), and he can go on and on in his ruts. ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who would lock you in his room with him and attempt to 'breed' you during his rut. ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who pouts and whines as he fucks into you, grabbing your ankles in case you attempt to crawl away from him again.

ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who seems a little polite and distance at first, but you didn't know that he was already in love with you. ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who bared his teeth at another random predator hybrid that was checking you out at the perfume store (he definitely learned that from one of the other feline hybrids). ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who loves to give you head massages when you are sitting on his lap. ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who needs to have you by his side 24/7 when he is in his rut, and that means even you have to go to the toilet, he's there with you. ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who bit the other hybrids in the household when they tried to touch you and speared you on his cock to show them his ownership over you. ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who tries replicating your smell with his perfume set, but always ends up getting hard or cumming over it.

ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who stills feel guilty about scratching and biting you when you tried to pick him out of your berries bush the first time the two of you met. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who is proud to be the first one who met you, and his claiming mark on your neck told all the other hybrid that come after him that you belonged to him first. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who hates the others touching his tail, but will wrap them around your body if you were near him. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who will lick all over your body with his rough tongue, enjoying how your skin turns red with each lick. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who would call you a good owner for helping him with his rut, and that he will make sure that you can give birth to his kittens first, because he was the first hybrid you had anyway. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who stops being clingy after his rut, but still would hiss when the other hybrids comes too close to you (his tail would still be hanging on your body, and only the tiger hybrid is brave enough to come near).

ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who secretly growled at the other canine hybrids in warning before he approach you to greet you for the first time at the adoption centre. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who disliked the other canine hybrid but was willing to get along with him just for you. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who learnt baking just because you mentioned that you were craving some cookies. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who pushes his nose into your chest as he humps against your leg, telling you that his rut is here. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who make sure you smell like him by coming all over your body during his rut, apologizing as he did so. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who asks you repeatedly whether he is a good boy as he ruts his hips into you (just tell him he is).

ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who was ready to fight the other ten hybrids in your household with his injuries to earn his place in your little pack (that you don't know of) when you first met. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who sits in your lap and asks you to preen his feathers almost everyday. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who leaves his feathers in your clothes as a claim of ownership over you. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan whose colourful wings will wrap around you as he gnaw along your collarbones. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who would mimic and repeat your moans and he rock you into his sheets during his ruts. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who would keep rubbing your buldging tummy, asking you to take "just a little more" as he keep cumming.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[toruskiii]

BEEP BEEP! YOUR RIDE IS HERE!

"𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳."

Sypnosis: You ordered an Uber to get home— but something about your driver is… off. Not in a dangerous way, just weird. Genre: Fluff/Crack Characters: Blade, Boothill, Aventurine x gn!reader Warnings: NEVER let Boothill drive you around. Lots of reckless driving (keep your eyes on the road and follow traffic laws guys), Aventurine gambling addiction core, reader just gives up on Blade's part LMAO, a lot of cussing, this is pretty ooc😭 A/N: Heh...how long has it been since I last posted?! This has been rotting in my drafts for quite a while so take this as an apology [masterlist] [about me]

BOOTHILL

It’s well-known that Boothill has a reputation for stealing vehicles and disregarding traffic laws while he was in Penacony, so it’s safe to say he’s probably not the best Uber driver around.

But you were exhausted. Your feet were aching from walking around the city, and you were way too far from the train station. Besides, it was late, and at this point, calling an Uber seemed like your only option. You scroll through the app, frustration building as you realize there’s no one available to pick you up at this hour— except for one driver.

Boothill.

The name itself was odd, but you figured, why not give it a try?

That is, until you started reading the ratings and reviews. Now you’re regretting your decision and seriously considering texting your friends and family the car details, just in case.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 3 out of 5 stars. “A very odd fellow, and he almost got us both into a car crash!” ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 2 out of 5 stars. “I was a drunk passenger, but honestly, I can’t tell if I was the one who was drunk or if it was him.” ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 0 out of 5 stars. “Does this guy even have a license? He’s seriously reckless! But I’ll admit, he managed to speed across the streets and get me to my destination on time, even though I was running late.” >Cyborg69 replied: "Oi, don't cha think I should get at least 3 stars for that?"

You barely have time to read another review when a sharp honk pulls you out of your thoughts.

Beep!

"Hey, you the one who ordered an Uber?" A rough, almost drawling voice calls out, and you look up to see a man with black-tipped bangs leaning out of his car window. In all honesty, he looks pretty decent— well, as decent as someone can look when you realize they’re not exactly human. Penacony really does attract the strangest people.

His fingers tap against the car door, a playful grin spreading across his face as he gestures toward the vehicle. "Hop in! Front or back, your choice." he says with a casual shrug. You pick the back seat, deciding it’s the safest bet.

As you settle into the car, you’re immediately hit by the sharp, almost overpowering scent of gasoline. It catches you off guard, and you can’t help but wince. He notices your expression in the rearview mirror and lets out a low chuckle, rolling down all the windows with a flick of his hand. "Heh, sorry ‘bout the smell. Kinda rushed to... ya know, grab some fuel."

If his ratings didn’t already make you second-guess this ride, the way he spoke just sealed the deal.

“Oh! Uh, that’s fine.” You force a smile, nervously buckling your seatbelt as he starts driving. At first, everything seems normal. You keep glancing at him through the rearview mirror, your eyes meeting his for a few seconds before he quickly looks away, whistling casually.

"Don’t hafta keep lookin' at me, sweetheart. I ain’t no danger." He flashes a smile, but it doesn’t do much to ease your nerves. "So, headin’ home?" he asks, and you nod slowly, giving him an address near your place for him to drop you off.

As the drive continues, your gaze shifts to the interior of the car, and you can’t help but feel a little weirded out by some of the decor. A heart-shaped pillow? Really? That didn’t exactly match the vibe you’d expect. And a bottle of perfume— one that definitely looked like it belonged to a woman. Maybe he just liked the scent, but still, it felt… odd. After all, men’s perfumes could be strange sometimes. Who wants to smell like wolf shit and pig ass anyway?

Then again, he did kind of fit that description.

Maybe he liked the scent of blood— because suddenly, he floors the accelerator, speeding down the highway, earning a chorus of honks from terrified drivers.

“woAH!” you shriek, the force slamming you back into your seat. Your hands instinctively grab the handle above the door, knuckles white as the car swerves dangerously.

“Oops, sorry.” His voice comes out nonchalantly, but there’s no trace of remorse on his face— just that stupid grin. “Hold on tight! These folks on the road are way too slow.” With a wild yell, he floors the gas again, pushing the car even faster.

At this point, you’re just praying that if the car flips, you’ll go down with it. You didn’t want to survive whatever mess would follow if he really did manage to send the car tumbling. Your heart’s pounding in your chest, and you scream again in pure horror, watching him laugh as he skillfully dodges every car in his path.

“What the actual FUCK are you doing?!” you scream, feeling your life flash before your eyes.

“I’m driving! What else am I doing? Taking a dookie?” he retorts with a scoff, eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror. You glance back, and your stomach drops: blue and red lights. Are there cops behind you?

“Uh, ignore the cops, darlin’.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Pretend this is just some free clubbing lights for ya.”

You panic, a fresh wave of terror rushing over you. "I don't want to fucking club!"

"Woah there, panic at the disco, heheh."

You don’t find his joke funny at all when he suddenly misses the turn to your house, and for a brief moment, you actually consider choking him out from the backseat just to make him stop. But then, something heavy falling in the car catches your eye.

Wait. Was that a gun? Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

He must’ve noticed your body stiffen in horror, because his free hand quickly rummages through his pockets. With a groan, he mutters, “Oh my Aeons— sorry, that’s my gun.” He clears his throat, and you can only deadpan at him, your mind racing. The reviews on his profile had to be way too generous. He didn’t deserve 0 stars. Hell, he should be banned, his license revoked, and his profile deleted.

But of course, he tries to reassure you. “Don’t worry, that’s, uh… a toy gun. For unruly passengers, ya know? Get it?” His sharp teeth flash in a grin, and you swear, for a split second, you see a glint of something dangerous. Then he curses some censored version of a swear word under his breath. “Ah, crap…I missed your turn.”

Yeah, you’re never booking an Uber again.

The car screeches as he whips it into a sharp U-turn, sending a cloud of smoke from the tires. You glance over to the police officer in the next lane— his bright blue eyes reflecting dim streetlights, a black-haired guy with an unreadable expression. But it’s the person sitting in the backseat that catches your attention. Two glowing golden eyes peer out from the window, face pressed against the glass.

“What the heck do they want from you?!” you scream, your body drenched in sweat as you grip the seat, heart racing.

Boothill shrugs nonchalantly. “Ehh... I dunno.”

Oh, he definitely knows.

He suddenly slams the brakes, and you slam forward, your face colliding with the back of his seat. Before you even have a chance to recover, you scramble out of the car, your breath ragged. But something catches your eye— there’s a pair of black heels in the backseat.

Wait. What?

“Think of this ride as, uh— on the house, ‘kay?” Boothill calls out from the window, giving you a thumbs-up with his metal fingers. You can barely catch your breath as you clutch your chest, your heart still racing.

“I’m kinda in a sticky situation— er…” His voice trails off as the sirens grow louder. He grunts, pulling the handbrake, but not before shouting at you as he slams the gas and speeds off.

“Remember to give me 5 stars on the Uber app!”

You stand frozen, staring in disbelief as his car disappears into the distance. Your mind is still reeling, trying to process what just happened, when the police car whips past you in a blur of lights and sirens. And then, you hear it— a panicked scream.

“HE’S DRIVING AWAY WITH HIMEKO’S CAR—"

AVENTURINE

After a long night of clubbing, you called an Uber, eager to escape the blinding lights and noise and head home. But what you didn’t expect was stepping into what felt more like another club than a car ride.

This didn’t feel like an Uber at all. The backseat was spacious, plush even, with a basket full of snacks— gum, chips, candy, just about anything you could imagine.

“Feel free to take whatever you want, yeah? It’s an accommodation,” a smooth voice drawls, and damn, you did not expect your Uber driver to be someone so... dazzling. A pretty blonde guy with striking purple and blue eyes, his gaze cool and calm. His cologne was strong but intoxicating, a heady mix of something sweet yet fresh.

"Are you sure I can take the snacks? No extra charge?" You raise an eyebrow, hesitating as you reach for a packet of chips.

"No extra charge," he repeats with a smirk, his hands casually gripping the wheel. He taps his fingers on the leather-covered steering wheel as he waits patiently for the car in front of him to move.

You mumble a quiet thanks before grabbing a few packets of chips and stuffing them into your bag, quickly buckling up your seatbelt. As you settle in, you start taking in your surroundings. One look at this guy, and it’s pretty obvious he’s loaded. The seats are unbelievably comfortable, and the extra touches in the snack basket are a little surprising. Alongside the chips, there are bottles of mineral water and other beverages, perfect if you’re parched. And judging by the brand of the snacks and drinks, it’s clear— this is first-class treatment. Something you’d expect to find on a luxury flight.

Suddenly, a tiny dice clatters against your leg. You freeze, slowly picking it up, unsure of what to make of it. He doesn’t seem to notice your hesitation, his grin widening as he speaks.

“Roll the dice,” he says, his tone playful. “The number you land on will decide where you’re going.”

You blink, completely caught off guard. “I’m sorry— what?” you stare at him in disbelief. “I just wanna go home, dude.” You hand the dice back to him awkwardly, hoping he’ll drop it.

He tuts, the sound almost childlike. “Ah, no, no, no. I offered you some wonderful snack choices, the least you could do is play along with my game.” He whines, like a petulant child, and you’re starting to feel uneasy. But there’s something about him that doesn’t scream dangerous— just weird. Definitely weird, like the one Uber driver you met last month.

“…And what is this about?” You furrow your brow, a little frustrated. “You’re an Uber driver, shouldn’t you listen to your customer on where they want to go?” You toss the dice back toward him.

“Please,” he suddenly pleads, slumping in his seat dramatically. “I have a gambling addiction.”

You raise an eyebrow, eyeing him cautiously. “What does that have to do with me?” You glance down at the dice now sitting in your palms.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, his eyes glazed over with a mix of frustration and longing. “My job banned me from going to casinos for a week,” he mutters. “So, I took this Uber job to kill time. The only way to salvage my boredom is to have my customers gamble for me.”

This Uber driver is definitely fucking weird.

“And what is your job, besides being an Uber driver...?” you ask, gulping slightly as you glance around his car, trying to pick up on any clues. His outfit, the decor, anything that might give you an idea of what’s going on.

“Well… I work for the IPC—”

“Okay, I get it now,” you quickly cut him off, your face twisting into an expression of judgment and unease. Those three letters were all you needed to hear. Of course, he worked for the IPC. All the people you've met affiliated with the IPC were just off. Like that strange Uber driver from last month? He was a huge IPC hater— and, oh yeah, he robbed a car. Then there was that girl you ran into last week, the one who casually introduced herself as an IPC worker. And trailing behind her? This bizarre creature that looked like an anteater... or a dolphin— you’re not even sure. You overheard it was her pet, but you’ve never seen anything like that in your life.

"Hey," he sighs, sitting up straighter in the seat. You’re desperately hoping he’ll drop the dice nonsense and just start driving already, but he stays put, even though the car in front of you has been long gone.

"I know the IPC has a bad reputation," he says, "but I promise you I’m not that bad."

"Yeah... not that bad for a guy who has a price on the IPC’s head," you mutter under your breath, and you catch the flash of recognition in his eyes.

“Oh! Boothill?”

You instantly regret even saying anything.

“I bumped into that guy last week— well, more like he crashed into my car,” he continues, seemingly unphased by your discomfort. “At first, he apologized. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled a gun on me and—”

Without thinking, you hurl the dice somewhere in the car, scramble to get out, and bolt for the door, heart racing.

"No tip???"

BLADE

It hadn’t even been five minutes in the car, and your driver was already chastising you.

"You're breathing too loudly in my car."

You freeze, immediately holding your breath, your hands clutched tightly in your lap. "I apologize—"

"Don’t talk."

You bite your lip, feeling your patience slip. Let me just fucking die then, I guess, you think, staring blankly out the window.

You glance over at the drawer in the car and notice a piece of paper peeking out. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you tug it out, only to find the words written in... lipstick?

“𝒲𝒽𝑜𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝒾𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓴𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓅, 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓃𝒸𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓀𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝑒. 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎, 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒!~"

What the hell? Why are all the drivers like this? You can't even begin to describe it anymore.

"If you're feeling afraid right now, I suggest you get off," his deep voice cuts through the silence, and without missing a beat, you nod— pushing open the door while he’s still driving and rolling out onto the pavement.

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