#he is sexiness personified

[know-it-all-freak]

My second favourite Paul photoshoot, by photographer Cambridge Jones, on the 15th of July 2005 in Soho, London.

What to mention? His arms, his hair, his neck (especially in the last one), his smile? Everything is just so perfect!!

(Oh, to be that floor in the last one!)

Happy McGann Monday!!!

[grecoromanyaoi]

ok finished the summer w carmen. FINALLY, some fun summer movies. abt dick and cock and ass, no less. as a treat for me.

[risuola]

FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it — if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

 “Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

❥𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧;

Crew members x Afab! Insecure! Reader.

summary: you express to your partner that you are insecure about your acne and stretchmarks.

a/n: this is going to be a pretty self indulgent thing because I struggle with body image as well.

warnings: sensitive topics,body image.

𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷,𝓒𝓾𝓻𝓵𝔂.

this guy is physically unable to grasp the concept that you're insecure, about your body.

he is genuinely at a loss of words,like... are you being fr? acne? stretchmarks? such trivial things?

he finds your acne cute,and your stretchmarks sexy,the thought that they could be sources of insecurity for you didn't even occur to him.

—"y/n such things do not make you any less beautiful,these things are a normal aspect of human life,why would you ever feel bad? If you ever even think,that these things will make me love you even slightly less,then you've gone crazy. I love you y/n,i love everything about you".

𝓒𝓸-𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓸𝓽, 𝓙𝓲𝓶𝓶𝔂.

He didn't even notice them in the first place.

Jimmy is a cold bastard,sure. But judging your body? Such things are below him. He couldn't care less.

Jimmy loves you, because of who you are,not what makes you. he couldn't be less bothered about acne and stretchmarks,why would he? They aren't things to be afraid of.

—"wow just how privileged you have to be for your concerns to be so trivial,y/n if you really think such silly things make you any less beautiful then maybe you should get your head checked out first,c'mon really?,stop being goofy and get up, let's go and watch tv instead".

𝓝𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮,𝓐𝓷𝔂𝓪.

she's baffled that you would even think like that,she understands that insecurities are a normal aspect of the human psyche.

but still,she's speechless,she thinks that someone as gorgeous,as jaw droppingly attractive as you could even be Insecure? Over things like stretchmarks and acne?

—"y/n,these stretchmarks and acne which you have? they make you beautiful,they don't take away anything from your beauty, you're a human being,being. these things are not on your body for you to feel bad, they're here to remind you that you're human,plus I think your stretchmarks are gorgeous. You're the best thing to have ever happened to me y/n, don't you ever feel like you're worth anything less than the best".

𝓜𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓬, 𝓢𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓪.

he has experience with situations like these.

this man doesn't give two fucks about your acne or stretchmarks.

—"tsk,if ya really think that stuff like this is gunna make you any less gorgeous, then ya better just stop thinkin' put ya brain to rest. c'mon let's get some bagel and coffee"

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷, 𝓓𝓪𝓲𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓮.

HUHHHHHH? WHAAAAAT?™

Bro is befuddled, bamboozled, hornswoggled, hoodwinked, outmanoeuvred at your words.

nah this man can't even understand as to acne and stretchmarks could be bad things.

"Y/N YOU ARE LIKE LITERAL PERFECTION PERSONIFIED, WDYM SOME STRETCHMARKS AND ACNE MAKE YOU FEEL UGLY???????", I'M SAYING THIS EXTREMELY SERIOUSLY. YOU ARE THE PRETTIEST,COOLEST, BEAUTIFULLEST GIRL I'VE EVER LAID MY EYES ON. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU.

Proceeds to smother you in kisses.

[ferrarirossa]

𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓾

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ smut/NSFW, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, cursing, size kink

summary: three words: Red. Like. Passion. But red is also the color of the car driven by Charles. Red is your lingerie, as red as your dirty thoughts about the Ferrari driver…

author’s note: do not copy or give credits

The smell of alcohol, loud music, people crowded together, temperature too high: the definition of a busy night. A night in Monaco meant this to you. Boundless fun and one-night stands with whoever came along.

After your breakup with your ex-boyfriend, your sweet and delicate personality has transformed into hate and lust personified. Temptress with your gaze, you conquer every boy who looks into your eyes, driving him crazy.

This one night seems long and empty just like the others. You enter the club, approach the bar counter, and ask for a Bloody Mary. The bartender can’t take his eyes off of you because of how gorgeous you look this evening.

With your cocktail in your hands, you wander around the place feeling observed differently than on other nights. You begin to feel in awe, your skin begins to sweat for no reason. You turn around to understand the reason for all this, and you are struck by a pair of sea-colored eyes that study every curve of your body highlighted by the red silk dress you are wearing.

Brown hair. Ice eyes. Sexy body under the black shirt that struggles to contain his muscles. Who is this man? His appearance seems familiar, but you had never noticed him in the different clubs you frequent almost every night, you would have noticed his gaze and his charm.

So you decide to move in his direction casually. You walk past him and look at him with cat eyes and out of the corner of your eye, you notice him getting up from the sofa where he was sitting just a few seconds ago, following you to the bar counter. When you’re about to ask for a second drink, you hear a familiar voice say: “I’ll pay for the young lady, she’s with me, thank you”.

You turn towards him, meeting his gaze directly toward your breasts. To attract his attention you say in a confident voice: “Oh yes? So are we together? Is today our anniversary by any chance?”

The sound of his laughter sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. His aura of mystery makes you moisten between your thighs. No one had ever succeeded until now. “Who are you? Why do you seem to already have a place in my mind if I have never met you?” you think in your mind. “So what are you waiting for to drink? Are you going to stare at me all night, princess?” he says, smiling mischievously and moving his gaze toward your thighs pressed together.

Suddenly your favorite song comes on from the speakers so you take his hands, take him to the center of the dance floor, and start purposely seducing him with your sexy moves. You notice his gaze moving toward your hips and then looking at your ass every time you turn your back to him while dancing.

The atmosphere gets hotter and hotter until the sound of his sensual voice reaches your eardrums as he whispers: “How about we go away for a while, princess?”

That nickname drives you crazy, it makes you even wetter and more in need of finding out everything about the man whose name you don’t even know. Placing his hand on the lower part of your shoulder, he guides you toward the exit in a confident manner, leading you to his car.

You can’t believe your eyes: it’s a Ferrari 488 Pista, titanium-colored with a livery featuring red and white stripes reminiscent of the Monaco flag. You already saw that car before. With his hand, he motions for you to get into the car. Still shocked, you enter and observe the interior of it, just as beautiful as the owner. As you look around, you fall into the swirls of his eyes, now just millimeters away from you, which immediately bring you back to earth. Then, without asking, he starts attacking your mouth with his kisses.

You immediately turn your head slightly to allow him access to your neck. You feel his teeth on your sensitive flesh stimulating your pleasure, your nipples stiffen, and your hands tighten on the leather of the seat. His hands instead roam all over your body, exploring every area still covered by the soft fabric of your dress, which is slowly becoming more and more wrinkled due to the contact with his powerful body.

He leaves two purple marks on your neck, you still feel his warm breath near your earlobe. Without wasting time, you bring your delicate hands near the zip of his pants. You too, without asking, slowly unbutton it, until you glimpse a protuberance trapped in his Calvin Klein boxers.

Without speaking, you look him in the eyes and he responds with a nod of approval, encouraging you to continue. You quickly lower his boxers below his knees and take out his cock, already full of pulsating veins visible from afar due to how excited he is. This vision makes you feel so horny that you let out a moan of pleasure without him touching you.

You begin to move your fingers up and down his length, and then focus more on his head with circular movements. With your other hand, you stimulate his testicles so that he dies from the pleasure of having you. Watching his head go back in pleasure and his moans mixed with excitement and lust sends you into ecstasy. You bring your mouth closer to his cock, first licking it lightly and then suddenly taking it all in your mouth until it reaches your throat. This sends him into a frenzy, so much so that he can no longer feel his legs. You watch his abdomen contract and his moans become louder and louder as he holds your hair forcefully, pulling it slightly toward him to make his cock go as deep as possible into your throat.

He cums all over your mouth and hands. You look at him with eyes full of appetite and continuing to look at him you lick all the liquid from him, tasting it and swallowing it. This gesture drives him crazy enough to tear your dress and then throw it somewhere. He is shocked by the color of your lingerie. Fiery red like blood, like the stitching of the seats of his Ferrari, like the sex you are about to have. Quite violently he turns you around to unbutton your lace bra. Your lush breasts enchant him, enough to invite him to leave hickeys right next to your nipples. Your cries of pain infused with cries of pleasure are music to his ears, his favorite tune. He leaves hickeys all over your abdomen until he reaches your inner thighs. He looks at you with his icy gaze for a second, then takes your thong with his teeth and pulls it down until your crotch is exposed.

He enters you without any warning, enough to make you scream so loudly that the people outside the club look around. Luckily the windows of his Ferrari are tinted to hide the obscenities you are doing inside. His pace is fast like his car, his moans resemble the roar of an engine. Together you create perfect music, harmonious notes that blend with the noise of your flash making contact. As he moves inside you he bites your earlobe and moves to your right collarbone. You have never been so at peace. For the first time, you forget all the pain of your past, this man is magical. His cock adheres perfectly to the walls of your vagina. “Fuck you’re so tight, you're perfect for me, princess”. You can’t even answer him, you can only let out a moan of pleasure. Suddenly you feel a knot in your stomach getting stronger and stronger and then you cum hard like never before. “This man is phenomenal”, you think. After a few seconds, he also cums for the second time, still shouting how wonderful you are.

“So? Don’t you ask my name?” he says. “Is it possible that you don’t remember me, princess?”. Immediately that nickname, his voice, his toned muscles, and his icy eyes come back to your mind. It's Charles Leclerc. The famous Formula 1 driver. Your first meeting? A night of fire like this. You have tried to track him down but since so much time has passed you lost all hopes. “Charles,” you say, your pupils widening as does your smile. “I have never forgotten you, princess”. “I hope you can forgive me, it took me a long time to find you, but here we are, perfect as we were that night, made for each other”. With eyes full of tears, you lie down on the seat starting to fantasize about a future together, about a life full of red and love.

[anyataylordelrey]

this clip just personifies them so well

robert literally SKIPPING away with his curls bouncing as he goes

bonzo in a fluffy robe, stroking his hair out of his face with a cigarette in his hand

jimmy just looking sexy af but tired

jonesy in his cunty little outfit with his fuck ass bob

[gunpowdercarousel]

You just KNOW that if Cazador was even remotely hot you would never see the end of people shipping him with Astarion. Ao3 would be awash with hundreds upon hundreds of Astarion/Cazador fics, there would be thirsty fanart of them together on your feed 24/7, people would be losing their goddamn minds over how wrong and fucked upbutalsokindahot they are together.

He would be on the level of Orin or Gortash or Raphael.

But no.

Larian were just like 'lol lets make him lame as fuck'. And I TRULY appreciate that. I thought I was in for Castlevania Dracula levels of sexiness, but he's just a... guy. Like he's just so thoroughly unremarkable it's amazing.

I don't know if it was all deliberate or not but I love it. They hype him up SO MUCH you can't even imagine the dark edgy vampire sex god you're going to encounter and then when I first saw him in game I was literally like "man who's that dork where's-CAZADOR SZARR?!"

I see no fanart of him. I see no fics of him.

He is anticlimax personified.

It's perfect. He's not cool. Abusers aren't cool. He's just a loser with an astronomical amount of power and the people he's hurt are helpless to stand up to him. He doesn't really NEED to be anything else.

[roosterforme]

Sloppy Math Homework | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley is the first one to admit that he always has been and always will be a sucker for how smart you are. There's something so hot about you in teacher mode, and he loves it when you take charge. But he's in for a surprise when you dole out a new kind of punishment for turning in sloppy work that leaves him fully at your mercy.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, smut, teacher/18+ student roleplay, spanking, paddling, consensual roleplay punishment

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! Banner by @mak-32 Check out my masterlist

Bradley's heart was pounding when he walked through the front door to find you still dressed in your work clothes even though you got home around lunchtime on Fridays. He had been prepared to start cooking dinner, but the sight of you in your loafers and snug tweed skirt was enough to make his cock twitch.

"Are you ready for class, Mr. Bradshaw?" you asked, hands on your hips and one eyebrow raised. 

He took a deep breath and nodded slowly before he said, "I am so ready for calculus class, Dr. Sugar." Your smirk had his brain working overtime, wondering what exactly you had in mind for him. A blowjob if he aced his exam? Sex on your desk if he could solve the equation tattooed at the top of your ribcage? A handjob that lasted as long as he could accurately recite the decimals in pi?

It didn't matter what it was, he wanted it. He was aching for it. Bradley was a mess for his wife. And when you shook your pretty head at him standing there in his uniform and said, "You're not dressed for class," he could feel his cock pressing the inside of his zipper through his underwear. 

He glanced down at his khaki shirt and pants. "What should I be wearing, Professor?" he asked in a low, deep voice that had you getting a little flustered. He could tell. He knew all of your cues, and right now you were squeezing your thighs together.

You cocked your head slightly to the side and eyed him up and down. "I just don't think that's what a college student would be wearing to his weekly math lecture, Beer Boy."

Ah, okay. So you wanted college Beer Boy right now. Bradley could absolutely deliver on that for you. "Sorry, Professor," he mumbled, looking at the floor and his boots. "You're right. I'm not dressed appropriately for your class."

You nodded and said, "Meet me in my office when you're ready to learn something new." And with that, you spun and disappeared down the hallway leaving Bradley to watch the sway of your ass in all that tight tweed fabric. 

You were sexy academia personified for him, and he loved it so much when you wanted to be in charge. But truly, Bradley felt a little bad for the twenty something year old guys who had to sit through your classes. You just looked that good. You looked good when you were at The University of Virginia as a math major, and somehow you looked even hotter now as a math professor. 

He smirked. He'd enjoyed your body at both of those points in time. And he was the only one who knew exactly where and how much you'd filled out from your twenties to your thirties. "Shit," he grunted, realizing he was wasting time thinking about your tits when he could probably be looking at them. 

Bradley tore into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He was already hard enough that it was challenging to get his uniform pants off, but he managed to leave a pile of khaki clothing on the floor as he rummaged around for his favorite Grateful Dead shirt. It was neatly folded in the dresser with your clothing since you wore it way more frequently than he did. But he pulled it on and found the University of Chicago hat you'd given him and tossed it on backwards. You always liked to run your fingers through his curls that stuck out from beneath his hats, and Bradley was practically panting just thinking about it.

He palmed himself through his boxer shorts as he pushed your office door open a little wider, grinning where you'd written SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY across it. And then he spotted you, sitting on the edge of the desk with your legs crossed. A few more of the buttons on your blouse were open now, and you were gesturing to your desk chair. 

"Have a seat, Mr. Bradshaw." Your voice was soft and sultry, nothing like the tone you used when you gave a lecture to your students. How did he get this fucking lucky? 

"Yes, Dr. Sugar," he replied, and you smirked. He stepped closer to the soft glow coming from his navy desk lamp which lived in this room, and he slipped down into your chair. Bradley desperately wanted to run his hands up your legs and tuck them inside your skirt, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed. So instead, he took the pencil and calculator you handed to him and looked up at your pretty face.

"I want you to work on your math homework sheet," you whispered, flipping over the single sheet of paper in front of him on the desk. Then you leaned down and kissed his temple, brushing your lips along the hair sticking out from under his cap. "Get started."

Bradley groaned softly, unsure how exactly he was going to be able to do this when his cock was aching so much. Plus, you were making no secret of the fact that you were looking at his tented boxers like you wanted to climb in his lap. 

"You're really proud of yourself, aren't you?" he asked, punching some numbers into the calculator to try to solve the first problem. "You got me so hard, I can barely concentrate, and all you did was talk to me and kiss my fucking hair."

You stroked your fingers along the strands of his hair you had kissed and said, "No cursing in my classroom. And no talking at all while you're working."

Bradley grunted as he scribbled down an answer for the first problem that he was actually pretty sure was correct. Visiting your evening lectures had really started to pay off. He'd always been pretty good at math, but now he was proficient in calculus and linear algebra. The only problem was, when most people thought about school, it turned them off. But simply looking at math problems made him harder. There was probably something wrong with him. 

You hummed as he answered the second equation, but when he looked up at your face, you said, "Eyes on your paper, Mr. Bradshaw."

"Yes, Professor," he whispered, and he was rewarded with the sight of you licking your lips. He was aching for a blowjob right now. He might get one if all of his answers were correct. So as quickly as he could, Bradley finished the remaining questions and slid the paper closer to you. "How did I do?"

You sank your teeth into your lip as you looked at him. Then you took the paper in your hands and murmured, "Let's see..."

Every little twitch of your brow and the way your eyes narrowed after a moment were telling enough, but when you met his gaze over the paper, he knew he had missed one. 

"If you just give me another minute, Dr. Sugar-"

"I gave you plenty of time already, Mr. Bradshaw," you said, stroking along his scarred cheek with your nails as you set the paper aside. You wrapped your fingers down along his chin and tipped his face up to meet yours. When you leaned in and kissed his lips sweetly, he was immediately reaching for your body. But then you jerked his chin up another inch and said, "But you missed number five, and I don't accept sloppy math homework."

Bradley groaned as your nails raked down his neck, because this was doing nothing to alleviate his erection. And now he was a little nervous about that problem he missed. "Does this mean you're going to make me take care of this myself?" he whispered, gesturing to his tented boxer shorts. 

The devilish smirk on your face actually thrilled him as you said, "Not exactly." Then you stood and took both of his hands gently in yours and pulled him to his feet. Bradley groaned as his erection trailed up your body until his length was resting against your belly. You pressed one more kiss to his lips and adjusted his backward cap as he throbbed against you. Then you stepped to the side and guided him to place both of his palms on your desk. 

Bradley looked at you and asked, "What's happening here?" Then you walked behind him and pushed the chair toward the center of the room, and Bradley felt your hands reach inside the elastic of his boxer shorts and start to guide them down until they dropped down to his feet. 

"What's happening is your punishment for your sloppy homework. Keep your palms on the desk, Mr. Bradshaw." You ran your hands softly along Bradley's ass, and he didn't move an inch. His cock was painfully hard now and leaping in the air, begging to be touched. 

He turned to his left where you were kissing along his neck now as you squeezed his ass. He moaned, "Baby, I might cum. I'm not even kidding."

You gasped and slapped his ass, and Bradley's jaw dropped open. "Baby? I'm your teacher! Show me some respect."

"P-Professor Sugar," he managed as his skin stung where you hit him. Then to Bradley's surprise, you opened the top drawer of your desk, and sitting right next to your post it notes was his Beta Gamma fraternity paddle. It was made of solid oak and painted in a psychedelic tie dye pattern that he always thought looked really cool. But the last time he saw the thing, it was on top of the bedroom closet. And as you wrapped your fingers around the handle, it dawned on Bradley why it was here and why he was standing like this.

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, and the look of mischief was gone as you squeezed his bicep and kissed the edge of his mustache. "I thought it might be fun to spank you, Beer Boy. But if you say no, then I'll put it away, and we can find something else fun to do."

Bradley eyed the paddle, and his mind was flooded with memories of his fraternity days. Not all of them were good, but he'd met you at his frat house. And you were the best thing in his life. And for some reason, the idea of that tie dye paddle hitting his bare skin was actually appealing to him. This was not something he had ever thought about before, but in the hands of his wife, he wanted it.

"Yes," he replied, kissing your lips as you started to smile. "I want you to, Professor Sugar."

You nodded and whispered, "If you don't like it, just tell me." Then you squared your shoulders and said in a louder voice, "I can't go easy on you, because you'll keep pulling this stunt over and over with me."

"I understand," he replied, letting you bend him a little more at the waist as you strolled around to stand behind him. And then he yelped as the paddle made solid contact with his right ass cheek. "Oh, fuck." But no sooner had he muttered those words than the paddle hit him in the same spot again. The stinging was intense as you apparently wound up to send the paddle to the same place a third time. "Baby," he whined, because if anything, he was more turned on than before.

Your only response was to switch to his other side and bring the paddle to an untouched patch of skin. Over and over until it was burning so much that Bradley was recoiling from the sound and feel of it. But his hips were thrusting forward now, and he was practically begging for relief from your mouth or your pussy. But he kept his palms planted on the top of the desk. And the pleasure and stinging pain mingled in his mind so much that he found himself whining your name. 

A moment later, you set the paddle on the desk next to his left hand, and Bradley looked up into your lust filled eyes. "Sugar?" he gasped, and you were prying his hands from the desk and pulling him close. Your lips came crashing into his as you grabbed at his shirt. He was rutting into you now, afraid he'd cum on your tweed but unwilling to try to hold himself back. 

"Bradley, that was so fucking hot," you moaned, turning him around and pushing him down to sit on the desk. It felt delightfully cold on his raw skin, but he winced at the same time. It was almost too much to handle. But then you were yanking your skirt up to reveal you were bare underneath, and you scrambled up onto his lap. 

"Easy," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. But then your perfectly tight warmth came sinking down around his cock, and he knew he was going to last about ten seconds in this state. He shook his head and whispered, "I'm gonna cum."

You held his face gently in both hands and kissed his forehead as you told him, "You earned it." And all the while you bounced up and down on him, bottoming out and whining softly.

So Bradley took your perfect ass in both of his palms and guided you just how he wanted you, and then he filled you up with his cum. You were peppering his cheeks with kisses as he sat there with his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. 

"You just spanked me with my Beta Gamma paddle. For my sloppy math homework," he marveled out loud, still nestled inside you. "When I'm not even your student."

You let your cheek come to rest on his shoulder and said, "You're my best student." Then your fingers were teasing at his curls sticking out from under his hat. "And if you enjoyed it, we can do it again."

Bradley groaned and said, "My ass needs a couple days off after that." Then he smirked as he reached for the paddle and rubbed it gently across your bare bottom. Your eyes went wide as your head came off his shoulder. "Yours on the other hand..."

--------------------------

Oh look, a new kink unlocked for Beer Boy and Sugar. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[honeyydrunk]

reasons why i would and wouldn't have sexual relations with the nct ilichil members. and unfortunately majority of the "wouldn't" is just that they're in love with another member.

(just in time for their 8th anniversary).

the one the only mr johnny suh would: - mr big dick daddy johnny suh - unity the link focus + johnny solo stage - he'd take me out to dinner first - created sexy actually bc nct we are so sexy - his father actually so created coffee - he's like 6'4 (i'm like 5'10 on a bad day) - daddy long legs - he's from chicago - ohhh he's got me giggling not just because he's crazy hot but bc he's funny part time idol full time comedian - his tattoo is insanely attractive the design the everything - i want to carry his kids and i'm a guy bro what the flip

💚 !! lee taeyong !! 💚 would: - THE male AI visual - bros big boba 🧋 tea eyes - my wartime navy husband - theres only so many times i can say he's crazy ridiculously hot utterly insane what a face he's the only person i've seen get hotter without makeup actually crazy where's that list of adjectives like beautiful breathtaking gorgeous stunning SEXY SEXY MAN enchanting hypnotising so fine i'm getting whiplash from trying to comprehend him the neost neo to ever neo ethereal angelic the highest of all blessings from aphrodite romanticism personified he is THE muse fitting of all eras his face should be in museums shown to the world i have never seen anyone that competes with his face card face CARD? face global economy face universe economy i am so happy for everything that allows me to witness this that this timeline where he is here i am witnessing his beauty his presence himself he is the beauty of this world a gem that should be praised to the highest esteem i wish nothing for him but true happiness safety and love i've heard of beauty people go to war for but he is beauty i wish peace in this earth for so that he is residing in a world that is beautiful like him for beauty such as his shouldn't be living in a world with hate and horrid things. for me, i don't even wish for anything of him, i wish for happiness and love FOR him. he is beautiful like nature, something that is perfectly created and serene. something so perfect, natural, and stunning, i wish to be a better person for him. wouldn't: - he wants to be bullied and humiliated and idk if i have that in me. i want to shower him with love and affection and he wants to be harassed.

NAKAMOTO YUTA (be warned this list goes on long i wanna fuck this man so badly it's insane mark lee watch out)

what's that the gojo fangirls said about no lube no protection? would: (i would rather die than not) - he's so hot - bros an ultimate foreign swagger - HIS HEALING SMILE - he's a literal rockstar - his dark cherry red wolfcut - chain tattoo - butterfly tattoo ON HIS STOMACH - navel piercing - alleged tongue piercing - kawaita kaze o karanase anata wo tsureteku no sa honey so sweet - his bring me the horizon cover - suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki - he unbuttoned his jacket then kicked a guy in the head twice - his voice,,, man i wanna hear him talk in my mind constantly - his actual singing voice does crazy things to me though - he always EMBODIES the few lines he does get - his vocal tone is ridiculously clear and stable. genuinely unsure on how he's that mistreated his voice is insane. - i don't like drinking but when he does it, it's hot. - suzaki ryo - he takes selfies a little odd but that's okay bc he's so hot it doesn't even matter - him when he in that one kick it fancam when he just when he - "TOKYO ARE YOU FUCKING READY-?" yes i am so ready to be the baddie in your porsche. - he paints his nails cute little designs - he likes natto (i don't, so i respect this) - he was training to be a professional footballer before he joined sm - he's a scorpio - the xj kabedon incident the peppero game the favourite promotion ear furry rizz game whatever that was - he's ridiculously athletic - his lying is hot - he flirts so well wdym he got mark lee calling him oppa - he kissed that wall too well - no lube no protection all day all night any position any time place location anything he wishes anything he wants he could do anything to be and i'd be thankful on my knees thanking him

wouldn't: - he's in love with mark lee

jeong jaehyun i would because he's a february 14th valentine's 💌 boy. he's a romantic who's silly!! why wouldn't i want to dance around in the night making sure he lives the life of a romance novel even if i'm just someone he'll forget on his journey to find the one he'll truly love. i'm okay with that. please be my forever only, just for one night. why i wouldn't: jeffery jamal "can i please have 3 iced coffees?" he reminds me of handy mandy hes too much of a brother ik he has them high quality gags hidden his goofy aura ruins any sex appeal i have for him he has too many feet pics uploaded on instagram

kim doyoung would: - he's for the employed srry. - there's no way to explain his aura except he's super sexy in like a husband way. - i saw him in perfume and my life changed forever - i want to bring him home to my parents just so i could be successful for once - him when he reveals those mf collarbones and that waist of his - "tighter" yes sir - "i wanna kiss your lips" absolutely - me when he sings goes insane - he's got such a beautiful smile

wouldn't: - i'm not quite sure how sex with him would be like and this post is about sex not marriage,,,,, though let's be real if he proposed YES OFC?! - he sings like he's been through several divorces he seems so heartbreak and i don't want my heart broken (ignore how i'd break my heart into a million pieces for taeyong and yuta)

kim jungwoo

would: - two baddies era jungwoo changed me in ways you can't imagine - he's so tall woah (im the same height) - sugaring candy what's that doja said? - me when he in two baddies - i need fuckboy jungwoo to make a comeback - bro in the dojaejung videos made me go crazy - unity + the link jungwoo solo performance 'lipstick' - he'd play me and i wouldn't care

wouldn't: - how could we have sex when we could gossip

MARK LEE ITS BEEN A MINUTE IM IT RAWRRRRR WHAT IS A BAD VERSE? WHAT IS NO FLOW? WHAT IS NOT SERVING US W HIT AFTER HIT !!? would: - i'll make him pop w head no talk ay like chardonnay mwah cherry bomb - when he rapped his shi off on that glass box (quiet down, kyocera japan performance) - "ladies just wait for me good girl. i got a really big," show me rn no proof otherwise - "diamond. married the kitchen to cook you up," marry me - "topping your faves" i love myself so uh top me. (WHAT DID I SAY?) - when he swears it's crazy hot

wouldn't: - he moans too much but like doing normal everyday things don't think i've forgetting that one live - i'm not nakamoto yuta (i want nakamoto yuta) - he can say some real cringe things sometimes

haechanahceah my bro lee donghyuk the LEE HAECHAN

would - him in poison - him when glowy and tan - him when he sings - him when he dances - him when he raps - him when he does anything - him when he exists - him when he's with that messy eyeliner - him when he's barefaced - him when he flirts - him when moans (he has on live MULTIPLE TIMES)

wouldn't: - if he said anything in his aegyo voice i physically couldn't have sexual relations with him that's not smth i can stomach sorry guys - i'm not mark or yuta

love all my neos but a special shout out to the ilichils who have served us with absolute BANGERS timeless experimental classics. they've sacrificed a lot for us and work extremely hard for this. i want to thank them for 8 years !! and i hope that they can continue to bless us with more for as long as they wish to remain in the industry.

[thecapricunt1616]

Dragon Fruit (c.b. one-shot)

Blurb (More BTC!) : It wasn’t that Carmen wanted to have such a raunchy, probably downright perverted dream about using your mouth to keep himself warm while he does paperwork at The Bear. He chalked it up to the fact that his brain was a dark scary place, he didn’t know where these images of forcing your face down until there were tears leaking from your eyes and you were drooling down your chin as you gagged with your nose against his pelvis came from.

♡ One Shot Inspo: Based on ♡this♡ ask from a dear sweet anon, I hope you enjoy it! Dragon fruit, with its vibrant appearance and exotic flavor, holds a special place in ancient mythology across various cultures. In ancient Mayan mythology, dragon fruit was considered a sacred fruit symbolizing fertility and abundance. The fruit’s striking appearance, with its bright pink or red flesh speckled with tiny black seeds, was believed to represent the balance between life and death. ♡ Summary: You tell Carmy about your fantasies of being woken up by him while he uses you, he takes it upon himself to bring that to life. ♡ W/C: 1.5k+ ♡ A/N: WOW 2 one-shots in one day?! it's one of those days yall!! What can I say I am literally anxiety from inside out personified and I think there will be a rush of folks after today due to the new season so I wanted to clear out my inbox as much as I could, I hope you all enjoy this!!! I can't freaking wait for the new season tonight i'm literally writing to distract myself hahah ♡ Warnings for BTC: Smut, Somnophelia, Swearing, Dirty talk, Wet dreams, Ownership kink

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡ ➵ My 300 Follower Celebration Bingo!

It wasn’t that Carmen wanted to have such a raunchy, probably downright perverted dream about using your mouth to keep himself warm while he does paperwork at The Bear. He chalked it up to the fact that his brain was a dark scary place, he didn’t know where these images of forcing your face down until there were tears leaking from your eyes and you were drooling down your chin as you gagged with your nose against his pelvis came from. 

Well, he did. He did actually know where his dark perverted brain found the fantasy of using your body as a toy. You. You. It was your fucking fault. He never thought before that he would really enjoy something so… masochistic? He wasn’t sure if that was the word, but he knew it made him feel strange at first when you told him sometimes you wish instead of jacking off in the shower before work, that he used your body instead to get off. 

He chuckled and told you it was too early for you and he would feel bad waking you just to get off, and you told him again to just use your body to get himself off. He was dumbfounded for a moment, and asked “while you’re- like…when y’sleepin’?” And when you nodded, his eyes widened a bit. 

“I trust you, and I love you, and I always want to make you feel good. I don’t mind if you use me when I’m asleep… I actually think that’s really hot. I’ve had this dream where I woke up and you were inside me…or that I woke up and you were cumming on my face-“

“Christ babe y’cant…” he adjusts himself in his sweatpants and crossed his ankles over “y’cant say shit like that” he blushed a bit causing you to giggle

“What? Why not! It’s the truth. Remember when I told you I want you to own me? I was serious. That’s so sexy, I love belonging to you” you said and kissed his neck gently. He hummed in response, shrugging. 

“I’ll think about it” he said and went back to scrolling on his phone to avoid any more tenting in his pants. You could hardly fall asleep that night, this being- because when Carmy told you he’d think about something it meant he wasn’t ready to say yes yet, so you hoped that soon you would wake up to being painfully yet euphorically stretched from the lack of preparation, or to cum covering your lips and eyelashes. It actually made it hard to fall asleep, and Carmy already fell asleep, so it’s not like you could ask him for help. 

Instead of rectifying your issue, you just decided to continue pressing your thighs together until you were right on the edge, and then stopping, and working yourself right back up again, then stopping again, until you were so uncomfortably wet you had to allow yourself to cum, and then fell asleep in exhaustion with the hopes or dreams more like it that it would make it nice and easy for Carmy to slip his hard cock inside you come morning. 

It was as if the two of you were on the same horny wavelength - or there was something in the water? Because Carmy woke up the following morning impossibly hard after his dream. The clock read 3:22, great. 48 minutes until he was meant to be up, and his cock was achingly hard, so hard it was pulsing. The kind of ache that said he wasn’t hallucinating and he was on and off having intense vivid wet dreams all night long and had been cycling between hard and half hard all night long. 

He looked over to see you had tossed off your blanket in the night, figures - it’s hot as shit. He hadn’t even bothered with his, he just wore sweatpants to bed and he was fine with that. His eyes rake over your body, you were laid on your back, likely to keep cooler. You were wearing a tight cropped tank top that showed your peaked nipples, he swore at the sight he felt a bead of pre leak out of his tip. He looked down to see.. how fucking embarassing. He’d already cum tonight at least once, in his fucking sleep. There was a large milky white stain covering his tented cock in his sweatpants, standing tall and at attention, ready to go again. 

He shook his head a bit, sighing softly to himself and looking back over at you. His eyes continued trailing down, down, to your panties and woah. He leaned in, ever so carefully brushing his middle finger over your panties to gauge if they really did have a huge wet patch that went all the way up to your mound, and to his demise, in your sleep- still needy as ever attempt to grind into the touch, a soft, satisfied sigh leaving your lips at the found friction. 

He quickly moved his hand back, but remembered what you had said last night, the words bouncing around his skull like a broken record. 

‘I’ve had this dream where I woke up and you were inside me…or that I woke up and you were cumming on my face, I want you to own me’

He swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes shut, telling himself it was wrong and that you couldn’t really know if you wanted that. But his pounding heartbeat felt like it was everywhere, and it was getting stronger in his cock. He had to do something. He thought about getting up and going to hide in the bathroom and jack off, but no - he figured that could offend you or make you more weirded out then if he was just jacking off. 

Then, he told himself in his mind how he was a man who paid bills in this house so if he wanted to play with his dick in his own bed then he absolutely could and there should be no consequence. But then he told himself that sounded assholish and was back at square one unsure of what to do. 

He knew he had to let his dick out of this cloth prison, though. The pressure was starting to actually hurt. He pulled down his waistbands just enough for his cock to spring out, and it did so in such an aggressive manor that there was a audible small slapping noise when it slapped his happy trail that Carmy didn’t even notice because he was too busy sighing in relief.

The thought of you saying you wanted to be fucked awake crossed his mind, so he figured you couldn’t get mad if he was just looking at you while he fisted his length. So that’s what he did, at first. He reached over to the bedside, pumping lube into his hand from the big bottle he kept on deck for the two of you, and got to work. 

He looked at that wet spot on your panties, wondering what had gotten you all worked up while you were asleep. He wondered if it was one of your dreams that you woke up to being filled with his cum, leaving you dripping the rest of the day. Maybe you were dreaming about him using your folds and your clit to get off, humping you in a spooning position while he whispers in your ear how fun your body is to use. 

He was quickly spiraling down this rabbit hole and not even noticing that he’d sat up, and was looking down at your peaceful sleeping form as he jerks his cock roughly over your stomach, grunts and breathy groans leaving his throat quietly as to not disturb you. He sat on his knees, knuckles brushing your stomach just barely as he fisted his length, breathing getting more ragged. 

You were drawn from sleep to see your beautiful boyfriend, head thrown back in euphoric bliss, veins in his neck popping out “well good morning to you too” you said sweetly and lifted your shirt a bit more so he’d spill straight on your skin. 

“Mm-fuck- morning- let me see y’tits” he rasped the order, slowing down his strokes as his cock stiffened to make sure he lasted a bit longer. 

“Of course” you eagerly took off your shirt, sitting back on your elbows “glad I could wake up to join the party” you spread your thighs, trailing one of your hands down to play with your clit 

“S’not a party- markin my property, remember? Move y’arm wanna cum on y’stomach” he brushed your hand away from playing with yourself which just got you all the more turned on by the way he was using you as you asked him to so many times before. You made sure you angled yourself so when he came just a few more pumps of his broad hand later, it coated your stomach and ribs in white creamy puddles. 

He groaned as he continued pumping his cock to milk out any last dribbles of cum, before dipping his middle finger in the biggest puddle and getting a scoop of the milky seed on his finger. You carefully watched as he drew ‘CB’ on your tit in the arousal, before getting up and heading to the bathroom for his morning shower like it was just any other Thursday morning. But not without ordering you- 

“Let that dry” 

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Lauren Bacall (To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, Key Largo)—"Just put your lips together...and blow" excuse me ma'am i'm briefly going to turn into a kettle. She's the quintessential Femme Fatale who may betray me in the end but I'd let her it'd be worth it

Gloria Grahame (It's a wonderful life, Oklahoma, Human desire, The Cobweb)—I'm just going to link to this Film Comment article by Donald Chase, who makes the argument more eloquently than I can, although I think Grahame's Ado Annie is more than just the 'flirtatious goofus' he offhandedly describes her as. Between that role and Violet Bick in 'It's a Wonderful Life" she's played two of cinemas best irrepressibly horny ladies. That would be legacy enough for our hot vintage queen, but she is also GLORIOUS in 'In a Lonely Place' and consistently pulls focus from her co-star Humphrey Bogart, famously one of the most charismatic leading men of his day. I think she had even more, and hotter, chemistry with him than he ever had with Lauren Bacall, which is saying a lot I know. Anyway, your honor I love her and I want her to win it all.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Lauren Bacall:

"She is soooo neat. And hot. And everything. That one scene in To Have and Have Not where she says "you know how to whistle don't you? You just put your lips together and blow" altered my brain chemistry during media archaeology class and here we are."

"Lauren Bacall was a major lesbian awakening for me. Every picture of her makes it look like she’s about to destroy you physically and emotionally (why is that so hot, I may need help). She had incredible long running chemistry with her husband, Humphrey Bogart, but was an absolute star in her own right. I’ll never be over my crush on her."

"She's got that confident, no-nonsense air about her. She's a boss babe who knows what she wants and gets it DONE. Staunch liberal Democrat her whole life. Campaigned for RFK. From Wikipedia: "In a 2005 interview with Larry King, Bacall described herself as "anti-Republican... A liberal. The L-word". She added that "being a liberal is the best thing on Earth you can be. You are welcoming to everyone when you're a liberal. You do not have a small mind."" Beautiful hair. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful lips. She's just beauty. LISTEN TO HER VOICE. TELL ME THAT'S NOT THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF."

"HER VOICE. Like yeah, she was absolutely stunning but oh my god, I'm obsessed with her voice"

"A gorgeous lady inside and out. One half of an absolute power couple with Humphrey Bogart, tended to him and other actors suffering from malaria whilst filming the African Queen, generally radiated grace and poise throughout her life. Also her last role was in Family Guy so she needs justice for that"

"The VOICE, the SLINK, the EYES. Woof."

"She was stunning. Tall and beautiful with a distinctive voice and able to carry her own in a male dominated field. She won the heart of millions, including one of Hollywood's most iconic leading men, Humphrey Bogart. Their story was the stuff of legends, and the chemistry between them was apparent in the multiple films they started in together. She personified the film noir dame and yet she also adapted as Hollywood changed. Her career spanned decades, and she was honored multiple times."

Gloria Grahame:

Absolute Hollywood vamp, who had a fine comedic bone. Died far too young and was depicted by Annette Bening in the stellar Film Stars Don't Die in Liverpool

I’ve heard she’s horrendously miscast in Oklahoma (I have not seen it), so if you’re coming in with that framework PLEASE set that aside because gods does this woman shine in a NOIR!! She plays the battered woman more than a full on fatale, but she manages to bring interesting nuance to characters who are written as mere sultry divergences! Also: she’s sultry and an EXCELLENT divergence

She could do sexy, sweet and sinister in the same breath. She was crazy talented and had that lisp that melts me every time.

[amrubrum]

reasons why thomas cresswell is one of the best and most underrated book men

has the sorest, biggest sweet tooth and is not afraid to make it known

he's quite literally the most intelligent man alive

his deductions are too impressive (seriously how can he even do that like????)

is audrey rose's number 1 fan

is SO down bad for audrey rose

audrey rose's simp

literally the biggest flirt alive

made and designed SEVERAL custom shoes and slippers that are practical and pretty for audrey rose because she missed wearing her slippers because of her injury

not to mention had a special dragon knob cane with a hidden blade inside made for audrey rose so that she'll always have a piece of him with her no matter where she is or if she's in danger (i need him so bad plss)

he is mischief personified

is a feminist

lets audrey rose be free and do whatever she pleases and is so supportive of whatever she does

never EVER thinks of audrey rose as less than just because she's a woman

is always making sure that audrey rose gives him her consent whenever they kiss and or do the deed

always making sure that audrey rose is comfortable

has the most amazing, badass, and hilarious older sister

is literally so patient

INTELLIGENT please his intelligence is so sexy

the biggest flirt EVER

outranks the wadsworths and their extended family yet you'd never even notice because he's so humble about it

"my love for you is a constant in a sea of variables."

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.” 

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something. 

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.    

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.” 

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face. 

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second. 

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.  

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips. 

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat. 

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?” 

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside. 

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.  

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.” 

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.  

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?” 

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.” 

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.” 

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?” 

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth. 

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”     

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.” 

“Why? Because you already are?” 

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose. 

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“ 

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor. 

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs. 

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother. 

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why. 

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”  

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance. 

“Who died and made you king?” 

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.” 

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.” 

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved. 

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.” 

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out. 

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.” 

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas. 

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.” 

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend. 

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth. 

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.” 

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely. 

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?” 

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass. 

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite. 

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.” 

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.” 

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood. 

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back. 

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.” 

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.” 

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten. 

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.  

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump. 

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another. 

At least this one’s easy on the eyes. 

⤑ to my inbox💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (writing masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

SECOND ROUND: 5th Tilt

Beowulf, Beowulf & Grendel (2005) VS. Darkness, Legend (1985)

Propaganda

Beowulf, Beowulf & Grendel (2005) Portrayed by: Gerard Butler Defeated Opponents: - King Henry V [Kenneth Branagh], Henry V (1989) - King Arthur [Richard Harris], Camelot (1967)

“I mean I don’t even know what to say? A classic hero. He's got humour, insight, valour, mercy, kindness, and Gerard Butler's flawless fucking face. King shit. Husband material.”

Darkness, Legend (1985) Portrayed by: Tim Curry Defeated Opponents: - Zbyszko z Bogdanca [Mieczyslaw Kalenik], Knights of the Teutonic Order (1960) - Uglúk [Nathaniel Lees], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

“The confidence. The swagger. The HORNS. The YEARNING and obsession. That Iconic entrance through the mirror. How can this creature of fantasy and nightmare not have a place in this tourney?”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Beowulf:

For Darkness:

"Look, generally speaking, I'm not really a monsterfucker. But even I have to say that gifs alone do not do Darkness justice. There is a presence in his voice (I mean, obviously, he's played by Tim Curry) that cannot be communicated without seeing him in action. Seduction is very much a large part of this character."

“If you don't find it hot to have Tim Curry's sexy voice coming out of the wickedly smirking face of a huge demon with a perfectly sculpted powerful red body that is glistening in the firelight, then I don't know what to tell you. This character is sin personified. The best kind of sin.”

“I would kill 1000 unicorns for him.”

[chewnotchoke]

don't ask me where i've been - l.riwoo

note: before anything else, this all started bcs of this tiktok and i thought 'wow he's so fucking sexy i should make a cocky riwoo fic' and boom :) ,,, he's not super cocky here but yk his confidence is on another level

vibes are kinda based from friends by chase atlantic so go take a listen :)

warnings: drinking, partying, making out, no smut, riwoo is a chase atlantic song personified (he's just so hot), and just riwoo being the cool guy he is

word count: 1.6k

more under the cut!

to find freedom after a relentless week of exams is what you always seek, and the place to go to is the club. with the beats pulsing through the air, the swirling lights and LEDs wrapping around you melted the exhaustion and sleepless night you had for a week. a table was reserved for you and your friends coming tonight. some of them welcomed you while others still hadn’t arrived. the laughter and greetings were barely audible from the sound booming across the place.

“what’s up, y/n! how was finals week? haven’t seen you around lately…” leehan offers you a shot of tequila which you politely decline. “barely survived, but i’m glad to be here!” you weren’t planning on drinking a lot tonight, but there sure are a lot of influences around you. a few drinks wouldn’t kill you anyway.

the bitter taste of tequila spread around your mouth, fiery and intense. your face contorted with a grimace as the liquid went down, biting onto the lime barely after a second. leehan smiles in satisfaction and you can only roll your eyes.

the strobe of lights slices through the darkness, casting fleeting glimpses of pleasure on faces flushed with ecstasy while the music fills every corner of the room. “are we not going to dance yet?” you ask him. “let’s wait for everyone else.”

“like who?”

“riwoo, and sungho.”

you couldn’t even care less about the latter, but the mention of riwoo’s name sent a shiver of excitement and nervous energy cascading through your veins. the room seemed to shift, the lights becoming more vibrant, and the sounds more distinct, all because he was coming.

oh, riwoo. you had few interactions with him but there’s just something so captivating in him that draws you closer. the anticipation was thrilling and the mere thought of seeing him made your palms sweat. you lost track of the time that you didn’t notice he had just arrived.

he was wearing a white undershirt, a black zip jacket with collar, a dirty wash color of denim jeans, a wristwatch on his left wrist, and a sunglass that sat above his head, pushing his hair back. the sight of him caught your heart in a delightful turmoil.

‘he looks so fucking good.’ a warm blush crept up your cheeks, and you quickly lowered your gaze, afraid that your eyes would betray the whirlwind of emotions stirring within you.

he flashed his eyebrows as he greeted you with a smile, mischievous and warm. you watch him gulp down the same drink leehan offered earlier. this scene wasn’t new to you, but being around these people is. you were only close with leehan, jaehyun who came with you earlier.

but that’s what friday is for, right? having fun. and you bet it’s gonna be more fun with riwoo and his other friends around.

“what do you think about going wild before going to the dance floor, riwoo?” sungho arches his eyebrows, smirking. “wild? what do you mean?” riwoo asks, looking around, as if he doesn’t know what his friend’s intention was. without giving him a proper answer, sungho pours a drink for riwoo and hands him the saucer of lime and salt.

you're perched on a stool, watching attentively then riwoo walks closer to you.

“do you want to do a body shot?”

the bar's dimly lit pulsing lights created a dazzling array of hues across the floor, reflecting off the mirrored walls and blending with the electric hum of dialogues and music. you can’t help but laugh nervously. did i just get chosen by riwoo? to do a body shot?

“me?” the thought of it seems so wild, so out of the ordinary for a friday night. but the atmosphere is infectious, and the rhythm of the night seems to nudge you towards a yes. cheers and laughter echo around you, creating a clamor of excitement. you see riwoo’s face dominating above, eyes sparkling with playful determination.

“sure, why not?”

with a confident grin, riwoo leaned forward, the warmth of his breath mingling with the faint scent of tequila he drank earlier. he gently sprinkled salt along the curve of your neck.

the room seemed to hold its breath as riwoo licked the salt from your neck, his tongue leaving a trail of tingling sensation that made your knees weak. his lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary, a tempting tease that sent trembles down your spine. riwoo picked up the lime wedge, his fingers brushing against your skin as he held it ready. then, with experienced ease, riwoo threw back the shot. the lime followed, his teeth scraping your fingertips as he sucked the tangy juice, your heart racing at the sheer intimacy of the moment.

the crowd erupts in applause and yells, the noise almost deafening but thrilling all the same. it’s reckless and a bit silly, but in the contagious energy of the night, it feels just right. you didn’t notice how long you’ve been looking at riwoo that he had to snap at you to get your attention.

“what are you looking at? just tell me if you wanna kiss me i’d let you do it.”

he smirks, turning around as he goes back to his friends circling the table with rims of shot glasses lined up. leehan came and wooed, nudging your shoulder with his as he brought another glass of drink.

“i might die before i even get drunk.” you gulped the alcohol in one shot, your cheeks heating up as you barely tried to catch up with everything that was happening around you.

the night deepens and the air becomes thicker with the scent of perfume and sweat. your head starts feeling a little heavy, and your surroundings get a little hazy as the neon lights cast over your face and all around the area. after a few dances, you have been sitting beside your friends for almost an hour as you try to catch up with them, and riwoo is there too.

you were too busy chatting with drunk jaehyun to notice, but riwoo had been stealing you a few glances. a few interactions happened earlier again like him passing the glass to you, or eyes meeting as you laugh together over the story taesan was telling earlier. (like this)

then, the music shifted to a familiar song. without a word, everyone moved to the dance floor. riwoo suddenly grabs your wrist and navigates you through the crowd, following everyone else to the platform. the floor vibrated beneath your feet, and you felt a rush of exhilaration as you danced with wild abandon, your body moving in time with the beat, and mind blissfully blank.

slightly intoxicated, he sways behind you with his grip on your waist, warm and reassuring. the rhythm of the music thrummed through your veins, and suddenly, all the awkwardness and self-consciousness melted away. you moved together, your bodies finding a sync that felt as natural as breathing.

riwoo starts telling something inaudible because of the blasting music.

“what?”

“i said you smell good!” his voice a little louder. you turn around to take a good look at him but his eyes are wandering around. not long after, you caught his attention when you asked him, “really?” and he leaned forward closer to your neck, his warm breath wrapping over your skin as his nose caught the scent of your perfume.

“you do,” he says. “sorry, i’m kinda drunk.” his hand palms over his face, trying to keep himself sober but we all know he’s not.

under the dark lights and swirling haze of the the bar, the unsaid tension burst into something palpable and undeniable. his eyes are deep pools of enigmatic charm. they're the kind of eyes that see through the ordinary, making you feel like you're the most captivating person in the world when his gaze locks with yours. there’s a depth there, a magnetic pull that makes looking away seem impossible.

at that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just you and riwoo, as if the music and the crowd had faded into the background.

“wanna do it? let's go outside.”

riwoo drags you out of the place as he brings you to the parking lot lit only by the distant, flickering streetlights. you leaned your body against the door of the car’s trunk. not a single figure was seen and riwoo slowly slanted in, narrowing the gap between your lips and faces. the taste of whiskey and something sweet—sunkist, maybe—mingled in the kiss, intoxicating in its own right.

riwoo’s body presses against yours while your fingers trace the back of his neck. it was clumsy and urgent, the kind of kiss that only comes from a place of uninhibited desire, fueled by the haze of alcohol.

you were fazed by how riwoo was enthusiastic with the way his hand was roaming behind your small back, and the other tangling in your hair. his lips moved in sync with yours. he regained his composure and reminded himself of what was happening; he was really kissing you, you were really kissing him, and suddenly the world around the two of you became meaningless.

it was messy and imperfect, yet somehow perfect in its raw intensity. something about the taste of riwoo’s lips was intoxicating, making you need more—need everything. the night was alive with your shared breath, the feverish heat of your kiss cutting through the cool night air. his hands went from the side of your head, down to the back of your neck.

“should they know about this?” you backed away, almost sober.

“why not? shouldn't they know that we just had a hot make out session, and i'm a good kisser?” he sneaks in an arrogant smile, “let's go back.”

as you went back to the pub, riwoo remained on the dance floor to have fun with the guys while you head over to the shared table, finding leehan alone, drunk as you guessed.

“weren't you dancing earlier? taesan and i couldn't find you.”

“don't ask me where i've been. i just made out with riwoo.”

and if there's one thing you've learned that night, riwoo was a crazy bottom-lip kisser :)

i'm going crazy over riwoo and it's not even healthy anymore,, i'm going insane writing nor reading a fic is not enough!! i just need him right Now!!

he's so chase atlantic code here wtf i had to listen to a whole ca playlist while writing this and it fits him so bad!

anyway,,tell me how this went through the comments, reblogs, or wherever!!! i love feedbacks plsplspls

[feralforfrank]

siimon riley x fem!reader

like, two people asked for more, so ..... voilà.

one

once you start dating simon, you gradually ease up on the mean nicknames and glaring. your stares aren't as mean as they were when he spilt that beer all over you, or when he took you to what was the possible worst date of your life just to piss you off (don't worry, he made up later).

he doesn't fully escape your wrath, though. he forgot to pick you up from the grocery store in the middle of january, when you had specifically asked him to keep an eye on his phone and wait for your call. he ended up falling asleep while half-watching a documentary and petting your cat.

you had to walk home, which wasn't that bad, considering you thankfully weren't carrying many bags, but you were still super angry with him. although, most of the anger dissipated when you saw him (barely fitting) dosed off on your tiny couch (how would you ever stay mad, he looked adorable), you did hit him in the head violently to wake him up. then purposely gave him the cold shoulder when he tried helping you organise the groceries, accidentally knocking the milk carton's sharp edges on his exposed bicep.

despite the rare occasions when he frustrates you, you're softer with him now. still have the same fire in your eyes and bitchy tone in your voice, but it's hardly ever directed at him.

soap is usually the target of your never-ending wrath. when he teases his lieutenant about how pussy-whipped he is, he gets a snarky comment back which makes kyle cough to hide his chuckles.

"oi, lass, sometimes i think ye donae like me a'all!"

"that's right, i don't!" you'll reply with such a serious tone, johnny has to pause, mouth hanging open.

you'll blankly stare at him for a few seconds and his gaze will flicker from your face to simon's, who's also staring at him unemotionallly, while his fingers play with the end of your dress. he doesn't speak for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you're really serious or not. kyle does his best not to burst out laughing, hiding his smile by drinking, and price just shakes his head and turns his attention to the tv.

the corner of your lip cracks a smile, and soap visibly relaxes. "ye canae do tha' t'me, bonnie. ye hurt me feelings!" he clutches his chest dramatically.

"then you better stop poking fun at my boyfriend, sergeant. or i'll beat you up."

soap raises his hands in surrender, and you feel said boyfriend, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.

"my lovely savior."

what simon really liked about you, from your very first meeting, was your ability to yell at anyone (if they wronged you in a way) with no fear. just absolute rage.

there have been times men tried hitting on you, and with simon gone from your side for whatever reason, you have to put a stop to their advances alone.

some are understanding when you say you already have a boyfriend, others leave when you glare at them and call them dickheads for disrespecting a woman's choice, but then there are the annoying dumbfucks who just can't, for the life of them, take the hint.

"did your date ditch you?" you roll your eyes at his smug smirk. "i would never leave such a sexy lady alone, by the way."

you've had enough of the guy, for he hasn't stopped bothering you ever since simon stepped out of line to answer a work-related call. he's behind you, leaning in front to talk in your ear. you haven't even bothered turning around.

the place is crowded and you can't see simon from where you're standing. the lady, three people in front of you, is taking ages to order her movie snacks, and you really are starting to regret dragging him to the movies. you could've pirated it or something.

your leg is nervously tapping on the floor, a tight grip over simon's wallet, and pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. you're sure you look like happiness personified.

"you can sit with me and my friends, if you'd like. i'm sure they wouldn't mind a hot piece of arse such as yourself—" smack.

your slap is uncharacteristically loud and resonates in the room. heads turn, and the guy is frozen in his place, hand touching his burning cheek.

"would you shut the fuck up and take a fucking hint already?!" you try to control your voice, but the words come out as a shout. "for the last time, i have a fucking boyfriend. leave. me. alone."

before he can say anything, a familiar scent enters your nostrils. simon's hand wraps loosely around your shoulder. "what's goin' on 'ere?"

"this fucking pig won't leave me alone!" you take a step closer to the guy threateningly, but simon is quick to pull you back.

"i was just trying to make conversation, you bitch!" smack.

it all happens so fast, simon is barely able to grab you before you claw the guy's eyes out. his friends pull him outside as he throws curses at you, but you just give him the middle finger and allow simon to drag you up to the popcorn section.

"i leave you alone for one minute, lovie..." simon whispers to you.

you shrug. "he brought it upon himself. i was nice by not answering, but he called me a hot piece of arse! and i just had it up to here with him! unbelievable!"

"well, you are hot, and you have a nice arse." simon receives an elbow to the ribs.

"fuck off."

"c'mon, pretty girl, before you terrorise the rest of the cinema."

he finds your scrunched eybrows, flushed cheeks, and fiery gaze extremely hot. your height (compared to him) makes you storming out when angry, almost comical. adorable.

um....this got out of hand....idk.....