#if they really did make him in only like 2k lines imma need someone to drop a program tutorial or smth

[monarchamos]

if chuuya's personality really is 2383 lines of code hes like. kinda small for such a complex character. either someone miscounted, lied, or chuuya's short body can only handle so many lines

[seohos-demon]

Jealous Night // Seoho

Request: “can I get a seoho smut. something along the lines of him making you jealous at the clubs with other girls but he ending up going home with you anyways. drunk and consented pls”

Yes ofc! I have really wanted to write a Seoho smut for a long time now so here we go ;) 

Word count: 2k 82

Seoho x female reader

Smut, drunk sex

You and your boyfriend had planned now for a while to go for a night out at the nearest club. You two usually went out on dates or just stayed home watching movies. In the car on the way to the club you both listened to music and were already so hype together. But you were worried at the same time. After all it is a club. You were afraid of others getting attracted to Seoho cuz I mean look at him! He is totally perfect and that amazingly built body of his attracts everyone. But he was YOUR boyfriend after all. He wouldn’t be with you if he didn’t love you so you trust him. Seoho parked the car and you two walked together inside with his arm around you. You both agreed that Seoho would not drink because he has to drive you two back home. At first you didn’t know what really to do so you both sat down on a couch and looked at other people dancing around the club. Everyone seemed to have so much fun. Just seeing other people have fun made you smile and Seoho noticed that.

-Why that smile sweetie? He asked while looking at you with a smile. 

-Can’t I just enjoy watching other people have fun you idiot? You said jokingly and and gave him a small push on his shoulder. He just let out a small laugh at your action. He then stood up and said he would go order you a drink. You also wanted to go dance but you are quite shy in public places so sober you was not ready. You took your phone out and quickly took a video from around the bar to update your snapchat. But then you saw through your camera Seoho chatting with another girl at the bar. What is he doing you thought to yourself. Pfft maybe it’s not anything she could’ve just asked something really normal. You tried to ignore it but he just kept talking with her then another girl showed up next to him while grabbing his arm. What the- The sight you saw in front of you made you feel totally shit. Why is he letting her touch him? Seoho looked over to you and gave a smirk and then walked towards me while saying something to the girls.

-Here’s your drink my lady. He said while sounding totally cocky. What’s wrong with him now?? You just grabbed the drink and swallowed it all immediately. 

-Woooah not that fast haha. He said and still acting like nothing happened. You stood up and started walking away. Suddenly everything just felt empty and shit. You just wanted to have a fun night and then get back to your place to have some own fun with him. Now it seems like he wants to have that fun with someone else.

-Where are you going baby? He asked and grabbed your wrist. From his action you turned your look over the shoulder and immediately took your hand back.

-To get some more drinks. You just answered and walked towards the bar. Music was playing loudly, people laughing and chatting together. Everyone had fun except you. Why did such a small thing make you feel like this? You sat down in front of the barista and ordered a few shots. This feeling, you want it gone. Seoho did not even care to follow you. Is he trying to make jealous intentionally? You took both of your shots right after each other. Then a few more shots again. You at this point felt reaaally tipsy now. You heard a familiar laugh from behind so you turned around to see what was happening. Seoho was sitting on the couch with few girls and they seemed really close to him. They were clearly flirting and he sure did not mind. This fucker. You took one more shot. Now it was spinning a lot in your head. Will Seoho ruin this night for you? Hell no. You walked towards the dancing floor and joined the other people there. You could barely even stand. Seoho noticed this and actually got worried. This one man next to you laid his eyes on you and got closer. 

-What an pretty ass you got there. The man said while squeezing your ass cheek suddenly. You were too drunk to do anything you almost just fell on the floor. Suddenly someone pushes the man away from me.

-STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY GIRLFRIEND! It was Seoho. He took you behind his back and looked at the other man with rage in eyes.

-Your girlfriend? Pfft you seemed too busy with those other ladies over there. Are all of these women yours then? Oooh I see. You are this kind of a man haha. The man kept saying and you saw Seoho clenching his fist. Then SMACK! Seoho punched him in the face. 

-The only woman who is mine is my girlfriend. Touch her ever again and next time you will not be walking out of here. Seoho then grabbed your wrist and walked you both out. When outside of the door you grabbed your hand back and screamed at Seoho.

-STOP! WHY DE FAK ARE YOU ACTINGG LIKE DIS? You tried to scream but because you are so drunk your words get a bit funny. Tears start to run down your face.

-ONE MMOMENT YO- YOU ARE FLIRTIN WHITH ALL DOSE GORLS AND SUDDENLY YOU CARE? WHAT DO YOU WANT!? You cry out and break down. Seoho immediately grabs you into a hug and holds the back of your head. He starts slowly petting you.

-I don’t know what I was thinking.. I just.. Maybe tried to see if you care? I know.. It was stupid and I will never EVER again do it.. Please sweetie I am so so so sorry.. He said and you could hear he meant his every word. You cried and hugged him tight. After some more talk he got you into the car and drove you both home. When you arrived at your house he carried you inside and put you down on the bed. You weren’t that dizzy anymore but Seoho left you alone in the bed for a while. He was gone for a long time so you got worried. You stood up and walked out of the room to see him sitting on the couch with an empty bottle of soju next to him. 

-S,, Seoho? You walked closer to him and you saw tears under his eyes.

-I should’ve naver done dat to you.. He explained. You could tell he was drunk. Did he drink because he felt like shit? 

-Baby just come to mihh.. You said and you yourself were still drunk too. Seoho looked up at you. He stood up and walked slowly towards you. He kept getting closer and closer so you backed off a bit but the wall was suddenly against your back. He put his other hand next to your head against the wall. His breathing was low and deep. You could feel it against your skin. He leaned towards your ear and took a few breathes against your ear so it gave you chills.

-I want you. And only you. He whispered causing a sexual tension between you two. You immediately just kissed him. You wanted him to know you still love him. His lips were so soft and warm. It always felt so great kissing him. His tounge was ghosting against your lips you let him enter and his tounge was warm. You missed making out with him. Somehow your drunk makeouts are really good. He lift you up so you could wrap your legs around him. He was still pushing you against the wall. The good thing with him being drunk and making out he moans a lot easier. Even from the smallest touch he will groan. You could feel that he already got hard. He then grabbed you harder and carried you back on the bed. Your back was against the bed and Seoho on top of you. You just loved the feeling of him being on top of him. That way he could feel really dominant and knew I couldn’t move easily. While you two are sloppily making out he starts taking off your dress. At the same time you started to unbutton his shirt (that was already almost totally unbuttoned). You threw his shirt away and touched him all over. He loved when you slightly scratched his upper back so you did it but now a little bit harder. Seoho let out a deep moan. 

-That,,, felt good. He mumbled under his breath and started kissing on your neck. Your dress and your bra were now also on the floor. He couldn’t hold his hands still. He had to touch you all over while marking your neck. This normally feels really really good but now when you are drunk it all spins in your head and feels so weird, in a good way. That’s why you two actually had drunk sex often. At this point your whole neck was marked and he isn’t even inside you yet. You were already a moaning mess.

-S,,Seoho,, fuck me. You moaned out his name. He sat up and gave you his dark eye smirk look. He took his pants and underwear off. His moves were a bit unstable because of the soju he drank but he grabbed a condom from the drawer next to bed. 

-First imma make you feel great. He said while starting to kiss you chest and kept moving down to your stomach. He gave you a smile bite which made you whimper but it felt great. He chuckled at your reaction and then moved down to your thighs. He knew you wanted him to just touch you where you needed him the most. You could feel yourself already be really wet. Seoho kept kissing and biting on your thighs. Then he started to take your panties off. 

-Already so wet for me. He chuckled then before you could even react he inserted a finger inside you. He quickly inserted another one. He could move his fingers like magic, he always made you feel so great. You kept moaning out his name. While fingering you he also started to lick your clit. You were really a mess at this point, you just needed him inside you already.

-Seoho please,,, just fuck me,,, I need your,, d,,dick. You moaned out because you couldn’t take it anymore. Seoho took his fingers out and licked them while smirking at you. He then put the condom on and positioned himself better on top of you. He teased you with his tip and rubbed it around your clit for a while. 

-Please Seoho! You moaned out and scratched his back. 

-Beg more babygirl. Moan my name. He ordered you. You immediately obeyed and started begging more. You moaned out his name in his ear.

-Please daddy.

He then pushed himself inside you which made you moan loud. You heard him moan against your ear and he sounded so good. It is like an angels moan, just the perfect and just the sound of him could make you cum. He thrust inside you faster and harder. 

-I will make sure you are mine. He whispered into your ear while thrusting harder. Your hips kept snapping together. You loved the way how Seoho went rough on you. 

-I will come so,,soon. You moaned out and grabbed Seoho’s hair. His hair was soft and long enough to properly grab. Seoho kept going faster and faster now when he knew you were close.

-I am close too baby. He moaned into your ear. His heavy breaths in your ear made you so turned on you were gonna cum any second now. Seoho then did thust in hard and kept pushing which was the one to make you cum. You moaned out his name.

-Just a while I am close! He said and still did a few hard thrusts and then came. The sound he makes when he comes is like the best sound in this world. He then collapsed next to you. You both kept breathing heavily. He then turned towards you and hugged you.

-I will never love anyone else.. Excepts you.. You are all I need. I love you.

-I love you too Seoho. No matter what.

[glitterslag]

Strip Tease.

So this was on my mind for a few days and until I cracked and did blurbs for everyone! I’m super into Warren lately, and I haven’t done anything for Ben in a while so that’s what imma do

summary: Warren the master mixologist, sad, divorced Roger and Ben on a stag-do straight out of The Inbetweeners. And you, a stripper.

warnings: strip club, divorce, cheating, alcoholism, difficult sexual themes. References to sex and some light smut at the end.

word count: hella

A/N: This came out as more of a character study than anything else. Also, I’m seeing a lot of fuckboi ben HCs on my dash lately so I needed to remedy because i can’t handle the cold truth. So I wrote 2k words of lovely conscientious ben walking you home safe x

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Thanks for nearly 1k followers!! I’m celebrating by writing a ton of blurbs, headcanons and oneshots! Y’all are keeping me busy with the requests so far, but if you did want to suggest something, feel free! I hope I’ll get round to it

Warren.

The bar staff were nearly always female. 

Recruit a pretty young girl to work 8 hours on her feet for minimum wage, while dancers make hundreds a night more than her wearing only a little less - you can pretty much guarantee the rest. She’ll be dancing in no time. 

That was the idea, anyway. They would hire you to wait tables, but what they were really after was another stripper. A cash grab. In fact, that’s how most of them start. Turns out, customers aren’t really that bothered about the standard of the drinks they’re being served - not when they’re already drunk and distracted by everything else that’s… going on. 

It does, however, mean you’re left with a high turnover rate, and a distinct lack of male bodies on the staff. It could be useful, your manager muses, to have someone there other than the bouncers, standing at the back of the room, keeping an eye on the floor. Looking after the girls a bit. Making sure nothing untoward was going on. 

Plus, the boy’s a professional. He’s worked in bars before - high end ones - and he’s got a trick or two up his sleeve. It might be nice to bring a sense of class about the place, everyone agrees. Bring in a real mixologist. Maybe it would increase sales. 

Warren used to be an alcoholic until he started working in bars.

It might seem contradictory, but really it makes perfect sense. It was only being around other drunkards 40 hours a week that made him realise how much he didn’t want to be one anymore. 

Now he rarely drinks at all. Just mixes the cocktails. He’s really fucking good at it, too. Watching him skilfully tossing the bottles around - fingers so dexterous as he juggles with ingredients like it’s easy. It’s really sexy. 

He causes a bit of a fuss when he first starts. People wonder whether he isn’t a stripper himself, wandered into the wrong club by accident. He’s certainly got the physique for it. Or is he going to be a bouncer, with that fearsome set of wings and his hard, hard expression? 

 Rumours swirl about him leaving his last job because he broke up with one (or, depending on who you talk to, several) of the waitresses. He was sleeping with one of your coworkers by the end of the second week.   

That’s how it had started with you, too. A one night stand quickly escalated into twice, three, then four times. And then the next thing you knew it was A Thing. 

They tell you not to date someone from the club when you start. If you guys fight, you’ll be bringing that into work. If you guys break up… well. The next few shifts are going to be awkward for everyone involved.It’s hard to resist each other, though, and perhaps against both of your better judgements, you fall in love. 

Casual hookups with girls from the scene are Warren’s bread and butter, but getting into a relationship with one is a different thing all together. He’s crazy possessive, and the thought of being forced to watch you, having fun with other guys night in, night out - he had thought it would be torture. 

Actually, it’s not like that at all. It only reinforces that this is only a job, it’s only money. You don’t like kissing the men, or letting them grope you. Some girls do it, and you have done in the past, too, but you had decided not long into the relationship that it wasn’t worth the extra tips. 

Customers will often ask you if you have a boyfriend, and sometimes, if you’re feeling really cheeky, you’ll nod towards Warren behind the bar. It’s always a satisfying experience for both of you to watch a man’s eyes flicker to the back of the room, turn pale as chalk and take his hands off you quick-sharp. 

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hard not to get distracted by you during a shift. Yes, he’s one of the only men in the world who are unfazed by sex workers, spending six days a week surrounded by semi naked women. But he’s only a man, and watching you up there, working the pole in nothing but a thong and six inch heels, your eyes always fixed on him at the back of the room - let’s just say he’s thankful the bar is at waist height. 

An underrated perk of the relationship is working the same hours. You’ve never had that in a boyfriend before, and it’s so nice to be able to spend time with each other in the day. To leave for work and come home at the same time, sometimes even driving in together. Some couples would find it smothering, spending so much time together like that, but you two don’t much care for other people anyway. You only need each other. 

Underneath the dark and edgy exterior, Warren is a big softie. He’s a vegetarian who loves animals, and is the owner of one blue eyed husky named Shadow. When not at work he can be found in the gym, or curled up on the sofa with you, his pup, and something good to watch on netflix.

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Roger.

The first night he comes in and you’re all over him like a rash.

 You’ve been doing this a couple of years now, and you’ve learnt to tell the different types of customer by sight. You dance near him to get a closer look - yep. Just what you suspected: 

Recently divorced. Lonely. Rich. 

How do you know?

No wedding ring, for a start. There’s a tan line there, though, on his fourth finger, indicating it was taken off recently. He hasn’t just shoved it in his back pocket to come here, though. He’s not unfaithful. Or at least, he isn’t being right now. He’s lonely. He’s been dumped.

There’s a five o’clock shadow on his neck that he doesn’t normally let grow. It doesn’t match the colour of his bleach blonde foils. He’s in his mid thirties, and his clothes look expensive. He orders a whiskey, neat. A sad man’s drink. 

You watch him dig for his wallet, a cigarette hanging from between his lips. He slaps it onto the table. Roger isn’t a particularly tall man, but if he sat on his wallet, maybe. 

You watch Katelyn swaying towards him, offering him a lap-dance which he politely declines. It could be that he’s just here to watch. That happens, sometimes, with divorcees. The younger, more excitable men are kids in a sweet shop, just wanting to touch everything they see. But men his age - men who should be home with their wives on Tuesday nights instead of nursing a whiskey in this seedy establishment, they sometimes won’t buy anything at all.

The other alternative is that he’s waiting for you. 

You decide to hedge your bets. 

You walk over to his table, praying no-one on the way catches your eye, and you manage to make it uninterrupted. You give him a sweeping look, pausing just a moment while he makes his decision, and sure enough he’s pulling out a twenty. He tucks it into your bra as you take a seat on his lap, and you get to work.

There’s a no contact rule here, but sometimes you let them touch you, especially if they look anything like him. You take hold of his hands and place them on your waist as you roll your hips against him in time to the song, dropping down in between his legs a moment before wiggling back up, hands gripping his thighs for support. You sink down onto his lap again and you hear him groan just a little, breath tickling your bare shoulder. You grind down onto him harder, gyrating around lazily until you feel him stuffing more bills into your knickers. 

You grab them discreetly, rolling them up and tucking them into your garter instead. It’s more secure in there. 

You decide to up the ante. 

You get up momentarily to shimmy in front of him, before spinning around and straddling his lap again, facing him this time. You loop your arms around his neck, swaying your hips against him as you look into his eyes. Making him feel like he’s the only man in the room. 

“Where’s your wife?” You lean forward and murmur into his ear in a smokey voice, playing with the fingers on his wedding hand. 

“Haven’t got one.” He says in a strained tone, groaning again as you slide over his hardening bulge. 

“Girlfriend?”

“No,” He forces out. 

“Poor baby.” 

You don’t break eye contact with him as you lift his hand up to your lips and suck his index finger into your mouth. He curses under his breath. The song finishes, and it’s probably a good job, because you wager he’s about to make a mess of his jeans.

He doesn’t pay for another one. But he does call you over again later that night and you just talk. He’s really nice, not to mention easy on the eyes, and for the first time in a while, you can honestly say you’re having a good time. You’re almost a little sad when it’s time for him to leave, and not just because the cash stops coming. 

“Come back, won’t you?” You whisper into his ear, lips trailing over the skin ever so slightly. He just laughs.

He does come back, though. A little over a week later. And again, a week after that. You learn his name is Roger, he’s got two kids, and he’s been divorced a month, though his relationship broke over a year ago. He never tells you what it is he does that makes him so rich. 

Most of the time, you just sit on his lap and talk. He’ll hand you pound notes every once in a while, or stuff them into your garter belt - large, warm hands running tantalisingly up your thigh. 

He wants to know if you let the other men touch you like he does. 

“Only you, Rog.” You whisper, and he almost seems taken in by it, just for a second, and then he laughs. 

“Christ I’m an old fool.” He says, shaking his head with a sad chuckle. “I bet that’s what you say to them all.” 

–

As the weeks pass, he becomes a regular face. He always politely declines the other women’s advances, preferring to wait until you’re available to come and sit on his lap, stealing a drag of his cigarette before looping your arms around his neck and gazing into his eyes to listen to him talk. Tell you about his day. 

You always look forward to the nights he comes in, but you’re not sure when exactly it had stopped being about the money for you. Probably about the time you’d started letting him kiss you. You’d never let a customer do that before. 

You start giving him private dances. They’re timed sessions off in a side room, where a bouncer will stand outside the door and knock at intervals to tell you how much time you have remaining. So not exactly private. But it’s still you and him, alone. Getting heated.

“We could have this in real life, you know.” You whisper to him one night, head flung back and voice breathy as he sucks at one of your nipples. 

Roger laughs. He’s always doing that.

“And what would you want with an old creep like me, hm?” He murmurs, lips trailing up the valley between your breasts to land at your throat. 

“I’m serious, Rog.” 

The bouncer knocks on the door. 

“Five minutes remaining.”

You sigh. 

You feel Roger slipping more notes into your thong and for once, you halt stop his hand. 

“Don’t.” You reproach, and he blinks up at you in surprise. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?” He asks in disbelief. “Pay you for doing your job?” 

“Remind me that this can’t be real.” 

Your voice is small.

“Remind me that you don’t seem to want me. Not outside of here, anyway.”

To Roger’s utter dismay, you’re welling up. He can’t believe his eyes. He’d never once considered that any of this could be real for you, never dared to believe that you might want him the way he wants you. Longs for you. That you cared about anything more than taking his money. 

His voice is soft and contrite when he reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumbing away at your tears.

“Darling, I- I had no idea-” 

The bouncer knocks again and you both breathe out a shaky laugh, foreheads coming to rest together.

When he asks Roger if he wants to extend the time, needless to say there’s only one answer he can give. 

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Ben.

Ben’s designated driver for a stag-do.

You decide it’s a stag do, and not a “taking our friend, who just got dumped, out on the piss” do, even if it is a rather sad one.

It’s the first weekend back after New Year, and you’ve been expecting the turnout to be dismally poor, and to be fair, it is. Other than the fat old man on his own in the corner who’s here most nights, they’re almost the only ones here. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, and you’re not sure if originally there had been more of them, but by the time they walk in, the party has dwindled down to about five.

Girls are getting sent home left and right because the place is so dead, and you’re gutted to be one of the few left on the floor. In fact you’d nearly taken the night off, knowing nobody ever has money to spend in January, never mind throw around on strippers.

You sigh and wait for them to hand over their phones and get their drinks from the bar. 

Ben looks uncomfortable. He’s never been to a strip club before, it’s written all over his face. Probably doesn’t agree with the principle. Just begrudgingly here to do lifts, and make sure nobody chokes on their own vomit, or anything.

He’s attractive, too. You’re quite tempted to make a bee-line for him, watch his fair cheeks flush red under the fluoro lights as you make him an offer he can’t refuse. Given the choice between a group of lairy stags and their visibly uncomfortable, decidedly more attractive sober driver, you’d rather have the latter. Honestly, you can get a really good conversation out of the sober ones sometimes, especially when it’s quiet. Plus, you love the nervous ones.

But you’re also painfully aware of how slow it’s been, so you sigh and mark out the pathetic one and go and sell a lap dance to him instead, taking his money while you watch your co-worker smirk and shimmy over to Ben out of the corner of your eye. And you don’t know why, but it gives you a very small but very there sense of satisfaction when you see that he’s not into it.

Some girls will let any handsome face become a distraction, and it’s exactly what you’ve been told not to do but he’s gorgeous; so very out of his depth, politely clapping and nodding his head along with the music while he nervously sips his diet coke. And it’s not like he’s the only sober driver ever to walk in, neither is he the first person who’s been uncomfortable. But it’s so obviously his first time and there’s just something so reassuring about that. Working there can make you lose a little faith in humanity if you aren’t careful. 

It’s not as if all customers are rude, but the reality is a lot of them are. You get asked out multiple times a shift, see married men every day who insist that they love their wives one minute and are taking off their wedding rings and begging you for a private dance the next. It’s refreshing to see someone like Ben in here every once in a while.  

Your manager says you can go home at some point before the close up, so you go through the back to get changed and wait for your lift. It’s always a bit warm in there after you’ve put your sweater and leggings back on, so you go and wait in the bus shelter outside. It’s a well-lit street, and when you’re back in your trackies you feel relatively safe to wait there.

After a while, your brother hasn’t come to get you (yes, your family know what you do and no, they haven’t disowned you) so you ring him. He doesn’t answer.

You see Ben and co drive past and you smile to yourself, wondering if they’d even recognise you now, with your makeup off and your clothes on. He sees you standing there, sheltering from the drizzle in the plastic bus stop, and he reverses the car back past you and rolls the window down.  

“You got a lift, love?” He enquires politely.

You can hear his drunken mates heckling from inside the car.

“Yes, thanks.”

 “Want me to call you a taxi?” He presses. 

 “No thanks.” You say. “They should be along soon.”

He looks at you hard. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.”

Just then, one of them has to get out of the car to be sick all over the pavement and you recoil, taking it as your chance to escape. You walk 50 or so metres down the road until you’re out of earshot of the retching, but you can still hear the rest of them hooting and hollering and slapping him on the back, egging him on.

Just then, one of them has to get out of the car to be sick all over the pavement and you recoil, taking it as your chance to escape. You walk 50 or so metres down the road until you’re out of earshot of the retching, but you can still hear the rest of them hooting and hollering and slapping him on the back, egging him on.

Ben isn’t pushy, though.

“Look,” he says. ”I’m going to drop these idiots off and then I’ll loop back afterwards just to check you’ve been picked up, ok?”

“Look you really don’t have to-”

“It’s for my own peace of mind,” he cuts in. “And if you’re still here, then I'm.more than happy to see you into a taxi.”  

You want to protest again, but his friends are shouting “Give it up, Ben”, mocking him. His neck is turning red and you’ve been annoyed with them all night and so you say yes. Ok. You thank him and then he drives off into the night, the car full of drunks cheering and yelling as they recede.

You don’t like getting in taxis at this hour, or getting on the tube. It’s late and it’s London, plus you don’t want a lift driver seeing you near to the club and figuring out what you do and thinking they can just…

Anyway. 

Your brother still isn’t answering. He works late shifts as a hospital porter, and this sometimes happens. You sometimes get a lift with one of the other girls, but with there being hardly anyone in tonight, you’re rather stuck. You go back inside and try to scrounge a lift. It’s annoying, the couple who are still on shift live far out of your way or get public transport. Your manager says he’s happy to give you a lift, but only after he cashes up and closes up. It could take ages, but you’re content to wait inside while you wait for your brother to answer. You stand by the window, interested to see if Ben really will come back.

And he does.

You wander outside to speak to him, more out of boredom than anything else.

“Want me to wait with you until your boyfriend arrives?” He asks, and you’re a little touched at how considerate he’s being, so you tell him ok.

You don’t bother to correct him about the boyfriend – perhaps if he thinks you’re taken it’ll make you safer.  You’ve got this deep feeling that he isn’t dangerous, but it would be insanity to get into a car with him nevertheless – he’s a complete stranger. Still, you’re bored and you want to chat to the nice man, because it might be the first charming, intelligent conversation you’ve had all week. Was that so bad?

So you make him switch the engine off and take the keys out and put the keys where you can see them, and then you get in the car but keep the car doors firmly open so you can escape if he tries anything. He’s a little bemused, but he understands your justifiable caution.

You chat and he’s really kind, and doesn’t ask you the normal dumb stripper questions (“aren’t your family ashamed of you?” “Are you doing this to fund a crack habit?” “How do you not get turned on on the job?”). He’s genuinely interested in you. Like, outside of work you. And yes, naturally he is a little curious about the job, but it’s quite cute watching him struggle to phrase the questions in a way that isn’t rude, and you do your best to answer truthfully. He seems satisfied with the answers, if a little thoughtful.

After about 20 minutes you get a call from your brother, apologising that he has to stay later at work. He tells you he’s happy to put you into a taxi. You roll your eyes and tell him no thanks.

“Ok,” Ben says as you get off the phone. “What’s the plan? How do we get you home safe?”

You think about it for a little while and then ask him if he’d mind accompanying you home. You could take the tube halfway and then it was a 20 minute walk to yours. You feel rude asking for all that but he just says sure, of course, no problem. I’ll just come back for my car later.

The more you’re with him the safer you feel. He carries your heavy bag all the way home and he doesn’t flirt. And you really, really appreciate that. And even though you wouldn’t even mind if he did - in fact, you kind of really wish he would - he doesn’t.

“Aren’t you tired?”  You wonder when you’re getting near the house. “No.”

You get home and you both stand awkwardly on the doorstep, and when it becomes clear he’s not going to invite himself inside you give him a kiss on the cheek and thank him and shut the door. You stand with your back up against it for a while, heart pounding, until you just bite the bullet and fling it open again, charging back out. You run after him and grab his wrist and he spins around in shock, shoulders softening when he sees it’s just you.

“Are you ok-” He starts at the same time as you ask him whether he wants to come inside. He tries to hide the fact that he can’t quite believe his luck.

You take him in and sit him down and ask if he wants a drink. 

“I could do with a shot, if I’m honest.” He says, a little shakily.

You search the cupboards and pour him out some tequila, and a beer from the fridge as well. You watch how quickly he slams the liquor, and realise he’s nervous.

You explain that you need to have your tea.

“Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks.”

You reheat some rice and come and perch on the arm of the sofa with your feet on him as you chat. The TV is on in the background, and because it’s three in the morning, American sport is on. He seems to get quite into it, so you excuse yourself to get ready for bed and leave him there.

You have a shower and brush your teeth, the hot water a tonic for your sore muscles as you scrub the sweat and grime of the club off your skin. You pass the kitchen on the way back to your room, and peep in. Ben’s texting frantically, and you have to stifle a giggle, imagining what he’s telling his friends. You wonder whether they’ll even believe him. 

You materialise in the kitchen doorway a minute later, hanging around the edge of the door with a little smirk on your face. 

Wet hair and pink Primark pajamas. it’s a stark contrast to the way you looked in your heels.

Ben turns the off the TV. He sits back to look at you. It’s silent.

“Why didn’t you give me a lapdance?” He asks suddenly. “Before?”

Barefoot, you pad across the wooden kitchen floor until you’re standing between his legs. He’s leaning back against the sofa to look up at you, half finished bottle of beer still in one hand.

“Do you want one now?” You whisper. Your voice is hoarse. 

He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. 

“Just kiss me.” He whispers.

Not two hours ago he was looking at you nearly naked, watching you twirl and gyrate on strange men for money. You don’t know why it’s now that you’re suddenly nervous.

You plop down gently in his lap. His hand grabs for your waist automatically. Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean in minisculely until his lips are grazing yours. 

You grab the beer bottle out of his hand and set it down on the floor without breaking the kiss, and then, grabbing the material of his shirt in your fists, you push him backwards onto the sofa until he’s horizontal. 

– 

“Ben.” You manage as he pushes into you for the first time, your voice coming out as no more than a breathy moan. 

You’ve migrated from the sofa to your bedroom, and he’s got you lying on your tummy underneath him, one foot hooked around the back of his calf, encouraging him to go deeper. Harder.

Perhaps the best thing about sleeping with men who know you’re a stripper is how hard they always try to please you. It’s as if they think your job is synonymous with getting tons of action, that they’re competing with the orgies they imagine you attend every night and honestly, you’re not complaining. 

Ben’s already made you come twice at this point - once with his mouth, once with his fingers, and by the time he enters you there’s little you can do but moan and whimper into the pillow. 

“I don’t have a condom.” He’d warned as you took his hand and led him towards your bedroom, switching all the lights off on the way, the house getting darker and darker each time. 

“That’s alright.” You’d said as you’d laced your fingers through his, turning to face him on the threshold of your bedroom doorway. “I’ve got plenty.”

He’d laughed. 

Now, after he’s nudged your legs apart with his knees in order to slam into you deeper, you’re approaching your third orgasm of the night. He’s getting close too, hips starting to stutter against you as his breaths grow heavy and ragged. 

His arms pack in at some point, shaking on either side of you as he seems not to be able to hold himself above you any longer. His elbows tremble and collapse under him, and he lays out on top of you instead, doing his best not to squash you into the mattress. 

“Sorry.” 

He murmurs a breathy giggle into your ear. You shivered. 

“Are you close?” You reply, no more than a whisper in the dark. You turn your head to rest in the crook of your elbow so you can look at him. You find his face close to yours. 

“Y-Yeah.” He says with some effort. He sounds it. 

The feeling of his body weight on top of you, being covered by him - your high is coming now whether you want it too or not. 

“M’gonna..” You trail off at the same time as he says, “Me too-” and you feel the throb of him inside you. 

Ben lets out a long groan, resting his sweaty forehead against the back of your neck as he comes, and you reach around to to cradle the back of his head. 

You don’t even make a sound as you hit your peak - you’re already cried out. Only able to silently clench your teeth and your fists and your toes as you convulse around him. 

“Stay.” You tell him, after.

“What?”

“Stay.” 

It’s four in the morning, and you’ve suddenly remembered his car is still parked outside of the club. And plus, you’re not quite ready to let go of him yet. 

“Okay.” He says quietly, tentatively reaching out to stroke your bare arm in the dark. 

—

You woke late the following morning, and since neither of you had work the next day, (obviously), you decided to go to the gym together as a date. You had  asked Ben if he wanted to go to a restaurant, but he can’t right now because he’s in heavy training for a shoot next week.

Skip to a few months later and you two are happily dating, and his favourite game to play is to come in to the club on random nights and surprise you, blending in with the other customers while he patiently waits until you’re free for a lap dance. It’s amazing, but by the time the song ends he’s got you aching to finish up and come home.

He still picks you up from work (another great perk of having a boyfriend without a 9-5), and by now he’s a familiar face among the rest of the staff. Needless to say they’re all in love with him. Sometimes, he’ll come down a bit early and come in for a drink while he waits for you to get finished up. It’s not uncommon to come out of the changing rooms to find him sat on the bar stool, but you can rest assured he’s never watching the naked girls – he’s usually chatting football with the bar tender.

[insomniac-arrest]

Babina Steals a House

genre: original, humor, fairytale

words: 2k

summary:  A young woman steals Baba Yaga's house for tax evasion purposes. The witch is not happy

Like Howl’s Moving castle but with somehow more scoundrels and the same amount of angry witches

Babina Lisitsyn walked into a merchant’s shop, well, she didn’t so much walk as stride in with the confidence of someone hiding a gun up their skirts. Said gun had fallen out at least three paces ago but we give Babina the grace of her own confidence at this point.

“Shopkeep,” Babina put her finger authoritatively in the air, “drop what you’re doing.” Allen the elf was not doing anything, he looks up anyway and regards a very small woman with her curly hair tied up in a red handkerchief. She was pointing at him.

Allen stood behind his counter and regretted not installing that panic button under his desk after the last time he was robbed and they took his good soup spoons. This woman had the same look in her eye. He raised his eyebrows sharply and pushed his more expensive orbs to the side.

“Can I help you?” The words were not said in the tone of someone who wanted to help you.

Babina Lisitsyn was not paying attention to his intonation, she was thinking about whether that thing on the shelf next to the man was a magic wand or a dildo. Regardless of the fact it was both, Babina took a piece of paper out of her pocket and shoved into the air, “is this you?”

Allen gave her a second cool look to top the first one, “from the paper’s classifieds, yes.”

Babina turned the newspaper clipping around and cleared her throat, “Nelaeryn Thoticus of the golden woods?” That was not his name.

“Yes.” She continued reading, “Who provides services in fortune telling, magic bartering, horoscopes, wedding officiating, horse taming, erectile dysfunction-” “That’s my ad, yes.” “And document apostilling.” Babina raises her chin, “right?”

Allen momentarily wishes he was being robbed, “How can I be of service?”

Babina whipped out a second piece of paper, “I need someone to authorize this.” She pushes a yellowing paper across the table, it had a very uneven looking font and some ink splotches.

Allen raised another eyebrow, he only had two but usually, he wished he had more.

“What’s this?” Babina put her hands on her hips, “I thought the classified said you’d sign stuff. No questions.”

He frowns slowly and looks back up, “100 gold coins.”

“Are you fucking,” she tore at her hair.

Allen waits patiently, “Not at the moment.”

“Look,” Babina put her hands in front of her as if to pause everything, “I’m sort of in a situation.” Babina was in several situations, half of a sham marriage and twice as many incidents of food poisoning in a half a dozen villages she visited.

Allen pushed the piece of paper back toward her, “Does that situation involve a 100 gold coins?” Babina felt the need to flip him off and perhaps dig around for her pistol again, but time was a fickle thing that sped on with or without her permission. It did not grant her the luxury of ‘flipping off’ time.

Babina was making a strangling motion to Allen when the door swung open on its hinges and a large black raven swept in. Allen took a step back, he had a strong phobia of birds since one tried to sell him a faux-gold ring last Christmas. And he bought it.

“Get out.”

“Midnight!” Babina threw her hands up, “thank God, we have to do some of that special sexy bartering we talked about.” Allen decided that might be the best time to lean over and read exactly what it is she wanted him to authorize.

He lifted both eyebrows, “Is this a housing agreement?” Babina turns around in place, her large brown skirts fanning out around her, “now you see how serious this is.” Allen narrowed his eyes, “some of this is written in crayon.” “And some blood.” She added brightly. “Alright…”

“Not mine, don’t worry.”

Allen thinks maybe he’ll get that panic button, instead he looks between the two of them, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He started to shoo them, he had to pretend to be an orthopedist at 2 so this was eating up his googling time. “Paying customers only.” Babina made another face at him, “Nelly,” he looked both ways to see who she was talking to, “of the orange woods-” “Golden,” he was actually from San Jose.

“Imma need you to me a big favor,” she jabbed the paper, “And sign this right here. Just on the dotted line, so all our asses are not grass.” “Grass,” he massaged his temple.

“Blasted grass! Grass blasted glass pass.” She shook her fist, “We’re gonna be pounded!” Allen looked at her evenly, “I’m really going to have to ask you to leave.” “That might be hard,” Allen jumps as third voice answers, a hooded dour young man now stood where the raven had once been, Allen grabs at his chest, “Ah!”

The brooding young man had shockingly black hair, a sharp nose, and the air of someone who looked tired enough to easily trade his blood in for expresso, “ma’am,” he nods at the young woman in the handkerchief, “she’s just outside of town.” Babina stuck her bottom lip out, “Soon?” “Three minute give or take.” Babina groaned deeply, “Fiiiiiine.” She picked up her contract, “we’ll blow this joint.” She waves at him, “Sorry your shop might get wrecked, you seem like an asshole, but still.” Babina shrugs and turns toward the door.

Allen’s face goes pale, “Who? Who’s coming?” He looked both ways as his shutters start to bang from a gust of wind. The hairs on Allen’s arm stand on end.

His eyes go wide as he looks back at the girl, “Who’re you?”

Babina turned around and winked, “Babina Sampina.” That was not her name.

The young man tugs on her sleeve, “I’m obligated to tell you that you need to get out of here.” The shutters bang open and shut again, a tremor goes through the floorboards, Allen flinches, he comes out from behind his desk. “Who’s house is it?” He points to the document in her hand. Babina waves over her shoulder, “don’t worry about it.” She opened the door, “unless you wanna do that trade.” He looked both ways, “What trade?” “Just like we talked about,” Babina yells with a flourish as they stand just outside the door. “Midnight, get on your knees.”

Midnight’s face doesn’t change, “I don’t think so.” “Okay,” she recovers, “we’ll stop Baba Yaga from wrecking his town if you sign my papers.”

Allen’s fingers shake, “I’m not actually an actuary.” “Nelly,” Babina says seriously as she walks up to him, “I don’t care.” “Ma’am, we have to leave.”

“One sec,” Allen takes out his pen signs the crayon and blood document, “bam!” She runs out the door, “let’s get running.” Allen takes a step outside the door and is almost blown over, some power was surging through the street, he could feel the electricity pulsing. He gulps and wonders why he didn’t buy the health insurance package that included witches.

Babina on the other hand just felt slightly preoccupied with the wand-dildo problem in her head again, she snaps back to when Midnight is pointing toward the west.

“Right!” She snaps her fingers and a house parked right in front of a small Radio Shack starts to shake. Its front lawn had a stark white fence around it and a pair of thin legs stuck out the bottom as it stood up.

“Baba yaga,” Allen was muttering to himself, wiping his palms down on his turquoise pants, “Baba yaga.” “Come on you old bitty!” Babina was yelling into the wind, her house rumbling as two thin chicken legs lifted it up in one shaking heave. “Do your worst!”

“No!” Allen the elf waved his hands in the air, “Nope, no, none of that.” Babina gave him a thumbs up, “have a little faith.” She squared her shoulders, “I’ve been doing this for like, a week now.”

Allen thinks about his 2 O’clock finding his body, it would not be flattering. He heard the wind whistle in his long ears and several people are peaking out their shop windows. Babina waves at them blithely.

“What did you do?” “Some tax stuff,” Babina says simply, “or at least, that’s what I asked for help with.” She pouts, “and boom, bam, ran away with this house thing.” “It was almost impressive,” Midnight says blankly as he stood off to the side, “if it wasn’t fools luck.” He glances at her morosely, “from a fool.” Babina rolled her eyes, “Go get Red Sun! We gotta be a unified front.” Midnight the dark knight, indebted to the holder of the house for the rest of eternity, grunts heavily. He, as a person, would much rather be a nicely warmed cup of tea at any given moment.

His form starts smoking and a heavy black cloud consumes him, leaving a sleek black bird in his place, it caws sharply.

Allen reaches for him as he spreads his wings, “Don’t leave me with her!”

Midnight was flapping away and Babina was climbing up onto her chicken-legged house that belonged the world’s most powerful grandma.

She was bouncing up and down, “Dawn!” She calls, “daybreak!”

A white cat with black paws steps out to greet her, it had a with a bone in its mouth that once belonged to very unstable goblin, but he was mostly stable now. For a couple reasons, most of which were being dead.

Dawn considered it good luck.

The delicate cat folds into itself, unwinding piece by piece as a young woman with soft white hair materializes, she holds a spear in her hands and smiles widely.

“What a nice day it is!” The knight turned around in loose circles.

“Shut it,” Babina said, “Baba is around the corner.” She beat her chest, “battle up!” Dawn just grinned emptily, “did you get that thing signed that I helped you make?” “Right right!” Babina stood on the top of the chickened-legged house and she pushed the sheet out into the air, “Baba Yaga!”

She faced the end of the wide merchant road.

Allen the elf heard himself scream, something surges around a very sharp corner. A woman, a massive woman. She sat in a mortar and peddled through the air like water using a pestle. Long white hair danced around her sunken face like a tangled storm and her eyes were blazing hot coals. Her outfit was a massive black dress that looked like it was almost living as it writhed around her.

A cackle rumbled through the earth and several shopkeepers stuck their heads out and wished they had panic buttons.

“Little fox,” her voice was thick with dust and a dark hiss that filled the air, “this is the end of the line.” Babina, to her credit, didn’t so much as flinch. She was still thinking about that wand as well as where her pistol had fallen to, she holds up her piece of paper.

“Tough shit,” she widens her stance, “I own this place now. Read the fine print!” Allen groans to himself as the almighty being of wrath and splendor read his name on the paper. He creeps back toward his shop so he could grab anything of more value than his life right now.

He heard more cackling, the witch's eyes grew huge and luminous, “you’re going to taste very good in my next stew little fox.”

“Okay,” she says stiltedly, “but this is legal and you have to listen to the law.” Baba Yaga’s smile widened into a wolf’s maw, “I’ll eat you with bell peppers and onions.” She showed all of her sharp white teeth.

Babina had sense enough to gulp deeply, her thoughts being dragged back to the many objects in her new home that were made of human skin. It was an alarming amount.

“Okay,” she gives a little salute, “that’s...that’s cool.” She turns around in place, “I’m just gonna…” She snaps her fingers again. “See you!”

The chicken legs bend in the middle and Allen’s mouth falls open as the house turns around, Baba Yaga makes a loud hiss.

“Wait,” Allen looks both ways as he weighs his options, “my town.” Babina waved, “I won’t let this place be destroyed!” This wouldn’t be the last town that Babina got destroyed.

He’s about to protest when more movement catches his eye.

Allen watches as a black raven comes diving through the air with a red dog blazing just below him, they come up from behind the witch. He waited for her to easily bat them out of the air but the animals dart right by and dodge her pestle.

The dog jumps ten feet in the air as the house starts to extend its skinny legs, the raven is just behind it. The ground begins to shake and air shimmers with tension.

Allen weighed his options.

“Wait,” Allen’s mouth opens and closes as the wind around him started to pick up, “I’ll come with!” He starts to run, “You owe me a hundred gold coins.” The ground begins to open up and swallow the edge of the town, buildings tumbling in with free falling rubble. Allen runs and manages to grab onto a chick leg before it goes into full gallop. He was going to miss his 2 O’Clock.

Babina herself was going to miss her pistol that had been more for show than use, but she appreciates the idea of it. She stands near her shaking bone fence and wonders if the witch would need a proper bank notice before she let up.

But Babina hated banks.

She looks over her shoulder as Baba Yaga slowly falls behind and far too many people start calling their local lawyers about a massive magic earthquake. Some crazy person had apparently stolen a witch's house.

[alexanderskarsgardsmustache]

Grapefruited - Sledgefu

Happy Fruit week my haters said I couldn’t have another anthem so I made sure I had another anthem Major Key we the best fanfics

Mer says he wants to try something new, and Gene doesn’t know whether he should be turned on or scared. Please don’t actually try doing this thanks. 2k words that I didnt proofread.

Gene had gotten used to the demeanor his lover adopted when he wanted to coerce someone (usually him) into something. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Merriell slunk into the living room while he was reading one day. He came up behind Eugene quietly, beginning to massage his shoulders slowly.

“What’r’ya readin?” he asked, feigning interest, and Gene fought the urge to melt into his touch.

“Just a book. What are you up to?”

“Nothin’.” was the answer, completely unconvincing. Gene hummed to answer him, and Merriell increased the pressure on his shoulders. He let a minute or so pass before he spoke again, straining to keep excitement from his voice.

“I got sumin I wanna try with ya,” he informed him, and Eugene felt himself caught between excitement and exasperation. The first one or two times Merriell had ever said this to him, Gene had been over the moon. By now, he knew better.

“What is it?” he asked, but Merriell didn’t answer him. He just sucked air through his teeth and clamped down on Gene’s shoulders.

“I can’t tell ya, but I know ya gonna like it,” he finally said, smirking down at Gene when he looked up at him. Eugene weighed his options - sometimes Merriell was into some strange shit, but he always stopped when he was asked, and it had been some time since they had done something crazy. He sighed, causing Merriell’s grin to grow wider. Eugene considered him for a moment longer, wishing he could will himself to change his mind.

“Where do you want me?”

“Kitchen,” Merriell answered before he leaned forward and pecked Gene on the lips. “Sit at the table and I’ll be right there.” Eugene did as he asked, even shedding his clothes when Merriell called “Undressed!” from the other room. He felt exposed, sitting naked on a wooden chair, but Merriell’s low whistle upon seeing him made heat rush to his groin. Gene’s gaze settled on the piece of cloth in Mer’s hand, and his frown must have been noticeable.

“It’s for ya eyes - don’t need ya seein’ what I’m doin’ too soon.”

“I’m starting to regret this, Mer,” Eugene said as he allowed himself to be blindfolded nonetheless.

“Trust me, Gene, ya gonna like this,” he promised, running his fingers along Gene’s body lightly, making him shiver. He felt Merriell get up and walk from him, and heard him moving a few things around before he returned, kneeling between Eugene’s legs.

“Cummon Sledgehamma, ya hard already?” he asked, lightly scratching his way down Gene’s thighs. Eugene felt his cock twitch - he hadn't even realized how turned on he had gotten. He felt Merriell lick the head of his dick lightly once, and then again more slowly. Only when Gene groaned a “please” did Mer take him in his mouth, bobbing down a little lower each time. Eugene reached down, groping until he found Merriell’s hair, and gripped at it as he sucked his cock. Just when Gene’s toes were starting to curl Merriell pulled away, despite the rough pull of his hair Eugene gave him to get him to stay.

“Trust me Eugene, ya gonna like this even betta.” Mer’s words sent a shiver down Gene’s spine, his voice thick and slow like molasses. He felt the other man shifting in front of him, and was nervous to see - or should he say feel - what was in store for him. He heard Merriell chuckle as he felt something sliding over his cock - wet in a way that tipped him off immediately that it wasn’t a human mouth. His grip on Merriell’s hair slackened as he moved into a bit of shock. Whatever Merriell was sliding over him was cold, soft but dripping wet - he could feel juice dribbling down him. Words rose out of his mouth as he stiffened, ready to throw himself out of the chair.

“Merriell Shelton, what the fuck did you just put on my dick?” Eugene yelped, moving to jump out of his seat. Merriell grabbed Gene’s wrists and pinned them to his sides so his fists were flush against the chair. He struggled, but his lack of sight made him jumbled. Merriell leaned his body into Eugene to still him further, catching his lower lip with his teeth to nip him.

“Calm down, ya’d think I made like I was gonna slice it off,” he taunted, and Eugene felt himself still under his grasp.

“What the fuck did you put on my dick?” he repeated, still tense.

“A grapefruit,” was the answer, simply stated. Eugene had to process it for a few seconds longer than he wished to, and found himself even more bristled than before.

“Why…. would you put a fucking grapefruit on my dick?” he asked slowly, irritation building as juice continued to drip down his balls.

“Imma show you, Eugene, if you would just relax.” Gene felt Merriell lowering himself, and he moved Gene’s hands so he could hold both wrists with one of his hands. “I jus’ need ya to be well behaved for me, lemme do it.”

Gene grunted, a half-hearted promise, and Merriell made quick work of taking advantage of it. From the way it tightened around him he knew Mer must have been squeezing the grapefruit, and he began to move it up and down Gene’s cock. It felt unnatural at first, sticky and uncomfortable, but after a few strokes it started to feel better. When he felt Merriell’s tongue on him again he shivered, and quickly realized just how good the combination of stimulations felt. Merriell wrapped his lips around the head of Gene’s cock and sucked, drawing a long moan from his mouth. Eugene worked one of his hands free and buried it in Mer’s curls again, encouraging him to suck harder. His encouragement was met with relish, and he could hear the sloppy sounds Merriell was making as he took his cock deeper into his mouth. If it didn’t feel so wet and tight around him, Gene could have wished the grapefruit wasn’t in Mer’s way.

As Eugene started to tremble Merriell sped up, moving both his tongue and the grapefruit faster against Gene’s cock. He could feel his hips starting to arch off the chair as he got closer to release, though his legs shook with the added pressure. He could hear his groans echoing in his own ears, but they were hardly loud enough to drown out the sounds of Merriell sucking him, exactly what he needed to hear to drive him over the edge. Just as he was beginning to see spots, however, Merriell pulled his mouth off his cock, leaving Eugene whimpering.

“Don’t stop,” he pleaded, and Merriell replaced his mouth with his other hand, rubbing over the head of Gene’s cock.

“No, Mer, your mouth,” Eugene clarified, his voice needy. “Give me your mouth, I’m so close.”

“I, uh, can’t,” Merriell mumbled, and Gene felt himself sinking back against the chair.

“Please,” he whined, and he heard Merriell scoff.

“It tastes so fucking bad,” he admitted, and nearly all sense of wanting to cum left Gene’s body with his exhale.

“It was your fuckin idea,” he said, a hint of malice in his voice.

“I didn’t think it would taste so fuckin bad!” Merriell shot back at him. Gene didn’t know what to say, so he just tugged Mer’s hair towards his crotch.

“Just make me cum Mer, please,” he asked, exasperated. But Merriell didn’t take Gene into his mouth. He pulled away instead, and Eugene moved to take his blindfold off.

“You know, you should really put some fucking thought into this -” he started, but stopped when he was met with the sight of Merriell undressing once he could see.

“Yeah yeah, ya right again,” Mer brushed him off as he pulled down and stepped out of his pants. Once he was naked he stood over Eugene, taking him in before straddling his lap. He chuckled when Gene raised an eyebrow at him, and Mer took the grapefruit off his dick.

“I’m gonna make ya cum, Eugene, thought tha’s what ya wanted,” he smirked. He took Eugene’s cock in his hand before lining it against his own, and wrapped his hand around them both so he could stroke them together. He moved quickly, maybe because he thought Gene was still close, or maybe because he knew they were both about to be very sticky. He moved with quick, short strokes, watching Eugene intently as he squirmed under him.

“Ya like that, don’t ya, Eugene?” Merriell taunted him, and Gene was embarrassed by the way he groaned in response. “Ya like rubbin’ against my cock, don’t ya?” Eugene shivered, and his hips twitched forward involuntarily.

“What felt betta, this or my mouth?” Merriell asked, but it was clear from his grin that he knew the answer was the former.

“The grapefruit,” Gene managed to pant, just to spite the other man. Merriell whistled low, bringing the fruit back into view.

“This? How good did it feel then? Maybe I should just try for myself.” Eugene would have quipped something else, but his thoughts had gotten too hazy, the outsides of his vision had started to blur. Before he could tell what was going on, however, he felt pressure on the top of his cock. By the time he looked down and focused Merriell had pushed the grapefruit over both their dicks, now pressed together even harder. Eugene let out a sound near a shout, and even Merriell couldn’t contain a moan as they felt unbearably tight against each other. Still, Mer started to move the fruit over them, making Gene’s breathing ragged almost immediately.

“Damn! God, that feels almos’ like the real thing,” Merriell moaned, his head thrown back.

“Who’ve you been fuckin… that feels like that?” Gene asked him through pants, but he couldn’t make out the answer. Merriell started to thrust his hips over him, fucking the grapefruit and sliding over Eugene’s cock in the process. Gene watched as best as he could as Mer got desperate in his lap, his thrusts turning more frantic as he began to whine. He brought his hand down and ran a thumb over the head of Merriel’s dick, and that was enough to have the other man cumming with a strangled shout. Mer thrusted through his orgasm, shooting lines of cum onto Eugene’s chest as his hips moved forward. Feeling Merriell twitch against his own cock in their already tight quarters edged Eugene quickly, and he finally came himself as Merriell thrusted towards him. He watched himself spill over their dicks, coating both of them and the grapefruit in the process. Merriell watched this in what seemed to be a haze, and his movement slowed to a stop. He slumped against Eugene, pressing their foreheads together as both of them regained their breath.

“Where the fuck did you come up with this?” Eugene asked once he could think straight again.

“Maybe I thought of it myself, I’m a regular genius,” Merriell taunted, smirking.

“All right then, genius, clean up the mess you made,” Eugene said, and Mer drew back to give him a coy look. He then leaned into Eugene, kissing him deeply. His smirk was back when he pulled away, and Eugene again found himself caught between excitement and nerves.

“Why bother?” Merriell shrugged. “I bought two grapefruits.”