#it ok. have a good night. its so fucked up that it gets dark at 9pm in france rn right

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[b4kuch1n]

oh my gods I know what adam's fighter is gonna look like now. holy shit. its gonna be SO GROSS I canNOT fucking wait

[getosbigballsack]

Ceo husband Gojo Satoru! x Stay at home wife reader!

Random thought, but imagine getting caught having sex with your husband in his office. Its not unusual for the both of you to get it down and dirty in his office, but that's usually during his lunch hours or after dark when he knows he has you all to himself because the kids were at their grandparents and no one was really lurking around his office.

But today, today's different. Upon receiving a text message from your husband. "I need you, come to the office as soon as you can." You wasted no time packing up the kids in the car along with their sleepwear for the night, just in case your husband decides to have his way for you for the whole day. And you hurriedly dropped them off at their grandparents for the night before rushing to tend to your husband.

As soon as you arrive at his company and greeted those who were in sight with a smile and gentle wave, you were finally standing in front of your husband's office. "Satoru, I'm here," you called out.

"Come in doll, I've been waiting," he responds and you did. Slowly twisting the door nob and quickly making your way inside his office. When you close the door behind you and turn around, there he was sitting around his desk with a glass of dry whiskey in his hand swirly around. Piercing blue eyes staring at you as you slowly made your way over to him.

"What's wrong?" You ask him, taking note of the scowl that was currently present on his face. "Is everything alright with you?"

You were patiently waiting for a response, your hand rubbing up and down your arm as you stare down at him with worry. However, instead of receiving kinder response or maybe an explanation, he instructed you, "Take of your clothes and bend over the desk. I would rather much talk to your pussy instead of answering your questions."

In times like these you would scold him and demand for him to provide with an answer. But not today! Something just felt completely off about him today. So you obeyed him, like the good pretty wife that you are and stripped naked, kicking off your shoes as well before bending over his desk, spreading your legs in the process too.

You only see his hand place the glass of whiskey in front of you before moving to open up his drawer to pull out a lube he keep in there for times like these. He wasted no time, loosing his tie, popping open a few if not all the button on his work shirt as well as unbuckling his belt, dropped it on the floor, then unzipping his pants and quickly pulled out his already erect cock.

"I'm going to be rough with you ok," he said to you as he squirts some of the lube on your pussy and also on his cock. He didn’t want to waste any more precious time. He wasted enough for the day, all he wanted to do right now is to sink his cock into your hole and pound your pussy beyond its limits. "I'm going to be so fucking rough with you."

"I can take it Satoru, so go on ravish me all you want," you said in an understanding too that just turns him on even more now.

He strokes his cock, hoist on of your leg on the table before resting one hand in the middle of your back, and the other pressing the fat tip at your weeping entrance. "Forgive me," he says before sinking into you, stuffing your precious cunt full of his cock. And you husband did not waste a sec more before pulling his hips back and slamming into you with one sharp thrust, almost knocking the very soul out of you.

"Fuck, baby... ugh Satoru," you moan out from his harsh painfully yet pleasure thrust.

"Just what I need after that stressful fucking meeting," he moaned. "They stressed me fuck out, with the marketing and sales department fuck shit, I just had to call my wife, so that she can relive me of my stress with this fucking pussy right," he mutters, pulling your hips back to meet his harsh thrust. The skin your ass swelling too and your pussy burning red from his harsh thrust and he's not going to stop now, not anytime soon.

And now here you both are two fucking long hours of your husband fucking your pussy raw over the desk, in his chair and now here your are again, laying flat on your back thing time with your legs bent all the way back to your chest and your messy pussy, filled with his cum and yours on display and he continued to fuck your hole out.

He's so focused on busting a nut inside your pussy, yet again, he completely forget another cooperate meeting with a few of the board if directors that started fifteen minutes. But not for long though because in came bursting into his office, his secretary and both managers and there secretary from the sales and marketing departments.

"Oh... oh... oh," they all said in union, eyes widening at the scene that is before them. Their boss, holding his wife in the most scandalous position and he roughly pounds away in your cunt.

"Satoru... darling..." You said, panicking, upon realizing that five men we're currently inside your husband's office, watching as he degrades your body in the most shameful and disrespectful way possible. "Satoru, stop people are watching..."

"Shut up," he says to, slapping his hand over your mouth, before turning to look the five men up and down then turning his attention back to you. "Don't speak, you were being such a good girl for me, keeping that pretty mouth of your occupied with only sounds of my name and your precious moans. Right, now go on moan as loud as you can for me."

And of course you followed through with his request, despite a set of ten eyes that were currently watching you being tamed and controlled by your husband.

Still stunned, by what's going on, they continued to watch on until Gojo yelled, "Get the fuck out of my fucking office. Can't you see if busy fucking my wife. Get out, all of you."

"But... but sir the mee..."

"I said get the FUCK OUT OF... ugh fuck fuck... MY OFFICE."

With that said, they all rushed out his office. All traumatized and cock hard from the sight that was before time.

And as they all walked away from the office to go and attend the meeting, to inform the BOD's that the meeting as been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances, they could hear you loudly moaning Gojo’s name and him grunting as he spoke, "Look at how much cum fills up your pussy, your better take every drop, just so you can get round and swollen with out fourth child."

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen)

Mama, ooh-ooh/I don’t wanna die/I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all

Mamaaa/Just killed a man/Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger/Now he's dead/Mamaaa, life had just begun/But now I've gone and thrown it all away/Mama, oooh/Didn't mean to make you cry/If I'm not back again this time tomorrow/Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

"LIKE HELLO????? THIS SONG IS LITERALLY INDESCRIBABLE IT’S JUST AMAZING"

"Good god when the "Galileo, Figaro - magnificoo" hits (hold on for dear life)"

Poll Runner: The Song Ever. Everyone who's ever sung this can feel the sheer power of Freddie Mercuary in their lungs.

Farewell Wanderlust (The Amazing Devil)

I promise you im not broken, I promise you there's more/More to come, more to reach more, more to hurl at the door/Goodbye to all my darkness, there's nothing here but light/Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night/This here is not makeup, it's a porcelain tomb/And this here is not singing, I'm just screaming in tune

This here is not makeup, it's a porcelain tomb/And this here is not singing, I'm just screaming in tune

I'm the face that stares back when the screen goes to black/When your mom says you look healthy/But you know she means you got fat/I'm the tales that the guests will applaud and believe/I'm the child that you just didn't have time to conceive

You may have taken me, and made me, but I am more than what you think, and I will /not/ let you ruin me.

"I have literally fucked up my throat by yelling this song really loudly while driving. Like, my voice was weird for multiple days afterwards. I can't put it into words but everyone I've ever heard mention the amazing devil has been so fucked up by this song."

"Ok I KNOW that this isn't going to win because no one knows the song. therefore the only mark i can leave is this rant ok. So I apologise in advance but: but did you read that absolute CALLOUT section of the lyrics i put up there?? that is only a SECTION ok. this song is so fucking weird its like someone is reaching into your soul strings and pulling on tangling them making u Feel Things like WOW. its such a. callout isnt the rigjt word for it. it just fucks one up ok. like honestly just pls pls i beg of u listen to the song or even just read the entire lyrics its so. you'll get what I mean."

"It’s about breaking under the weight of expectations and showing the world yourself in all of your imperfect, ugly, and raw glory."

Bohemian Rhapsody submitted by @homosandhomies + others

Farewell Wanderlust submitted by @Gimme_DA_PIEEEE + @ceaseless-rambler + @xx0yeet-everything0xx + others

[romana-after-dark]

But what IF Logan and Scott got reader drunk and brought her back to Logan’s room and Scott watched as Logan fucked her? (And Scott, being a loyal husband, does indeed simply watch and does not touch her) (ok maybe he shoots one off on her face)

Yes!!!!

I love this. I have so many dark ask and i love every single one of them so please be patient. Ill never just delete the ask, if I decide its not for me or I cant get inspo, ill answer it so yall know!

(forgive me I've never written scott and barely watched him but I love him)

Wanted It

Logan Howlett x reader x Scott Summers

Summary: Logan and Scott find a pretty girl at a hotel bar and decide to have some fun.

Warnings: dub con due to alcohol turned non con pillow princess reader, bi Logan bi Scott, ass eating, rough BJ, throat bulge <3, somno, dick suffication (everyone is fiiiiine)

760 words

You had wanted it. You didn't have to say it, Logan could tell by the look in your eyes as he watched you at the hotel bar.

You wanted him and Scott to fuck you. You were just too shy to say it.

That's okay. Logan kept sending you over drinks while him and Scott talked all the possibilities, all the things they could do with you as you loaded up on hard liquor.

"Could Eiffel tower, a classic."

"That requires a high five, I'm not a 21 year old frat boy."

"Fine, you fuck her, we hang her head off the bed and I fuck her throat."

But Logan had another idea. Scott was going to watch. You were his, Scott was his. Logan didn't share. That was fine by Scott, he was more a watcher than anything, loving being able to touch himself to a pretty sight.

When you were good and drunk, the bar tender did not seem at all suspicious of the two men who oh-so gentlemanly offered to help the young lady walk to her room. Arms over shoulders, they took you right to Logan and Scott's bed.

First thing first was your throat.

"mmmm, you're handsome..." You murmur with a sleepy voice as Logan maneuvers your body with ease.

Logan smiled. "yeah baby? You wanna suck my fat cock?"

You were too tired to answer, but as your head hung back off the bed you kept your mouth open, just not your eyes.

Wet and warm, Logan groaned as he slid into your mouth, sloppy fucking your throat like it was a pussy. Behind him, Scott tongue fucked his ass, face buried between his hairy cheeks. Between Scott and you, Logan was getting about ready to blow his load right down your throat but he kept himself from exploding yet. Sloppy, wet noises filled the room as you drooled and gagged on his cock.

When he looked down at you, he nearly came right there at the sight. "Shit, Scott." He tried to tell him, but Scott was too busy buried in his own heaven. "Oh for fucks sake..." Logan grumbles, reaching behind himself and grabbing a tuft of Scott's hair to pull him up. "Fucking look at this."

Resuming his actions, Scott watched in aw as the tip of Logan's cock bulged out your throat. You cough and gag when he gets too rough, but Logan holds you down. You're perfect, such a sweet little toy.

"Logan..." Scott whines, palming his large erection in his pants. "Logan please, I wanna touch her..."

"Not a fucking chance." Logan decides he's gonna fill your mouth now. Him and Scott got all night to play with you, and with his regenerative powers, he could get it up again in minutes.

You begin to resist him more, squirming underneath as he gets closer to his release but never eases up. Drool slides down your face and into your hair. Next to him, Scott is furious masturbating, jerking his cock to the scene before him. You gag hard, a pool of saliva and liquor splashing out of your mouth and feeling warm around his balls for crashing to the floor.

"Logan, Logan I- I'm gonna, oh fuck, oooh fuuucckkk" Scott groans as he cums all over your face and Logan's cock. You're struggling fully now, kicking and trying to push Logan away as your sounds of distress reverberate on his dick and he decides you have to breath at some point.

Logan flood your mouth, spilling inside as he continues to roughly fuck your face. His white hot cum spills out of your mouth and mixed with Scotts, looking so, so beautiful when he pulls up. Logan watches with a smile as you gasp for air, heavy breathing and dry heaving as you try to get normal again. Slowly, as Logan gets hard again, you settle back down the bed. Head up this time.

"Clean 'er up." Logan orders Scott as he touches himself hard again. He's so, so sensitive from his orgasm but it felt so, so good. Scott obeys, kneeling at the bed and happily kissing away at your face, licking away the cum and spit and make up inbetween kisses.

You hum, saying something about being tired.

"Oh ho ho," Logan chuckles, watching Scott with you. "We're just getting started, bub."

****************

Thanks for reading! Lots more Logan blurbs and fics here, including my dark series be quiet for some reason keeps not showing up in tags, but I think it's good stuff so Ima keep promoting it. Remember to reblog or leave a comment if you enjoyed it so i know what the people like!

also come join my tag list linked above for updates!

Sloppy bj fan? CHeck out Take It All with Miguel O hara or Against the Wall with Joel Miller

@del-ightfulling @my-secret-shame

[creepzkilla]

No because those EJ headcannons 😳 are so good aldhworjeoejekr you wrote him so perfectly 😫

If it's ok, can I request some NSFW Creepypasta Toby headcannons? You can make them as dark as you like, but DAMN I have to admit the way you write characters is so gooooodddd 💖💖💖

↳˳⸙;; ❝ TICCI TOBY KINK HC'S! + BONUS ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗

[A/N]--tyty i always enjoy slasher creepypasta-- the more realistic version of the fandom. its always been more entertaining for me... the mansion kinda HC never really stuck with me unless portrayed really good? its so hard to find fics that are like that... but anyways wtf my first ask this deserves a bonus smut at the end?!?!?! sry for the delay too i’ve had writers block wtf… the second half is shit ngl

NSFW. warning— NOT PROOF READ fem! anatomy, dub-con, somnophilia, toby being a perv, sadist, bondage,breeding, exhibition

TOBY IS A CLOSET PERVERT--

he remembers when he first started stalking you. when he first snuck into your house while you were fast asleep as he kept a watchful eye over your sleeping form. you were ethereal, he couldn't help himself following you home- or going through your panty drawer. you couldn't blame him, really, you couldn't. you look so cute in your satin pink thongs that he just had to steal one. or three.

sadist-- toby just adores watching you contort underneath his touch as you squirm away from him. he won't hesitate to leave harsh slaps across the meat of your ass or dark bruises made from his belt into makeshift handcuffs

bondage-- he loves tying you up in all sorts of different lewd positions. toby takes pride watching you whimper under his calloused hands begging for your hands and/or legs. he knows that those whimpers are only for him.

breeding-- toby has family issues... at first, he wouldn't want kids. he would dismiss the thought of ever having any kids in the first place... not wanting to turn into his dad. he was terrified. that was until he came in your pussy the first time. it was fucking life-changing. he loves the feeling of spilling his seed into your pretty pussy... he just can't go back after that. why buy condoms when he could watch his cum seep out of your pussy? he wouldn't mind having a kid or two.

mutual masturbation-- he goes wild watching your hands disappear into your heat as your mouth lets out a barrage of whimpers and moans. toby can't help but join in. whether you know if he's watching or not.

exhibitism-- this man just dont give af. if he wants you, he wants you. anytime, anyplace.

oral(fem receiving)-- this could be considered a kink because toby could probably cum buy just eating your pussy. he just cant get enough of it. he gets so painfully hard when he goes down on you. so you cant blame him when he paints his pants white.

corruption— this is a big one..you were a virgin, with little to no experience before you bet toby. something about that innocence he just had to protect… something he just had to corrupt. toby remembers when he first taught you how to give a blowjob. he could just cum by the perverted memory.

TOBY DEFINITELY JERKS OFF WITH YOUR PANTIES—

there’s no way he doesn’t. he fucking obsessed with the taste and smell of your pussy. the nights where he can’t come and visit you bet you can find a pair of your satin panties wrapped around his cock. toby just can’t help himself. he loves feeling the feeling of your juices rubbing up against his cock as he imagines runtting against you. it’s his dirty little secret… well it’s not much of a secret when your prairies start showing up stained with a white excrete.

HES SURPRISINGLY KINDA BIG—

now don’t get me wrong… toby isn’t a petite guy, he’s rather tall standing at 5’11 or 6’0. he’s a pretty built guy—he kinda has to be. so when i say surprisingly i mean you wouldn’t really except him to be a whopping 6’0 inches. his girth is on the skinny size but he makes up for it when hes hitting places you never knew existed. his tip is a dark pink, and the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. you never thought that you’d be saying that about a dick or specifically a serial killers dick; but here you are… your not exactly complaining.

—-ˋˏ [‘Ill give you everything’] ˎˊ

—(Toby couldn’t help himself. He really couldnt. You just looked so gorgeous in your pink satin panties— which are your favorite pair— he couldn’t help but rub against the cotton material. It’s not like you’d mind anyways…you’ve always asked him to fuck you awake before, why not take you up on that offer?

He carefully moves the comforter from your shoulders, peeling it back allowing him to slip into your bed behind you . Toby sinks into the bed, spooning your relaxed body as the curve of your ass pressed into him.Almost instinctively your body pressed into the slasher completely, being enraptured by his warmth. You were oblivious to what you were doing to him.

His aching boner stretched against his pants, and fuck it was painful (from aching not actual pain) as he rubs up against your panties. It was almost like you wanted him to do this. Sleeping in only your underwear? It was like you’re asking him to move your panties to the side and fuck you.

His cold finger tips brush against your damp panties, hooking his finger on the seam of fabric, slowly and carefully pulling them down. toby was careful not to wake you—-not yet. He wants to savor this.

It was so unbelievably hot in your bedroom, almost like a sauna. If anything he was helping you cool down. You should appreciate his kind and just actions by taking of your clothes before you got too hot. He chuckled at that thought, ghosting his finger tips over your exposed shoulder, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

His lips hovered above your exposed neck, sending chills down your spine. Dark bruises soon began to litter your neck, ruining its once pristine image as Toby sunk his lips deeper in your skin, all while his other hand disappeared into your cunt.

You were so incredibly wet, so incredibly tight. His calloused hands slid in and out with ease, your walls sucking him in ever time. Toby was enraptured with your beauty, your flushed cheeks, your rosy lips, the soft whimpers that left your mouth; utterly gorgeous.

“Toby?” You awoke to nothing but darkness with an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, an all too familiar one. A warmth spread throughout your body like wildfire as the prevalent feelings grew. The sensation— that you couldn’t put a finger on—- just felt so good, you couldn’t help but melt into it.

Toby hummed in response, too busy on concentrating on the task at hand; fingering your tight cunt. The lewd sounds that gushed around his hands was deafening; almost forgetting that you were awake.

“Are you e-enjoying yours-self?” He laughed, curling his fingers inside of you, rubbing up against a patch of sensitive nerves.

You yelped, now being fully awake, clearly aware of the sensation— that is being full. You could only moan in response as his fingers continuously plunged in and out of sopping cunt as your core tightened.

Toby’s lips attached to the crook of your neck once again, tracing over the dark bruises that began to form— biting ever so slightly on your sweet spot (that only he knows of). His unoccupied hand, cupped the meat of your thigh, lifting it up to gain better access for his other hand that was moving at an insatiable speed.

“P…Please, I need you…I want all of you.” A barrage of moans left your lips, as your hand curled behind you to grip the man’s hair that assaulted your skin. Your sharp nails dug into his scalp, tugging on tuffs of his unkept brown hair—signaling your desperation.

Suddenly, he was on top of you. Straddling your exposed bottom half with his thighs, a lustful glint ever so present in his eyes. His lips were a cherry red, presumably from his attack on your neck as well as his hands that were slick with your cunt. You take immediate notice of the large tent swelling in his blue jeans, you could only guess at how painful it was.

“A-are you sure?” Toby hummed, his scarred hands tracing over your waist, “I’m not g-gonna go easy on you.” His voice came out as a whisper, as if it was some horrible secret—a taboo. To which it was, not like you knew or anything— but toby has a secret, commmited horrible sins that can never be reversed— you shouldn’t be doing this with him… He feels guilty almost— yet it’s so enticing… His hands devouring your body as if his hands weren’t covered in blood merely hours before.

But you’ll never know, right?

“I want all of you, Toby.” He looks down at your delicate form, such innocence. Your skin was practically glowing in the moonlight that shone threw the raked blinds, making you look almost angelic. He was scared to touch you, like you would crumble under his touch. Like you would see him for the monster— the pyschopath he truly is, a devil.

Yet, that’s what makes it so exciting, so enticing to see your angelic body beneath him. The danger, the corruption. It only added fuel to the fire, and soon it would become a wild fire.

Your body; merely heaven and earth wrapped into one.

He; the virus, a plague that never stops— pollution your body and everything in between.

Is it really worth it? If he really loved you— he would let you go— right?

“I’ll give you ev-verything. Anything you w-want.” Toby whispers, his hands on your waist crawling towards your chest—drawing secret messages that only you would know. His usual ice cold hands, were anything but cold. They were warm. His hands roamed your body, and spread throughout your body like a flame— he devoured everything in his path.

Your body reacted to him like a magnetic. His name fell off of your lips along with whispered promises and wonton moans. You were meant for him— maybe poisoning you isn’t so bad. Maybe—just maybe, it was meant to happen.

[depresssant]

thinking about a venom!reader in the MHA world...

ok i got very carried away with the dabi part but ykyk. uh two are platonic yan and the other is romantic. but basically, i was thinking about a quirkless reader who becomes the host for venom in the mha world. how cool would that be?

maybe i'll do a deadpool one as well, but i love venom too much atm.

⏤ venom!reader: you're just a quirkless reporter with a dark past. you work⏤well, worked for a news channel diligently, making sure to bring justice if not through a quirk, then through a camera. that is, until you investigate a company accused of trafficking quirkless civilians to test for quirk development. however, the chairman of the company doesn't take kindly to your intrusion and has you fired.

⏤ venom!reader: you sneak into the company's lab with the help of one of the chairman's closest scientists. you stumble across an alien, symbiote, from a whole different planet. this symbiote picks you as its host and you now have a literal parasite feeding off of you. the chairman is ecstatic since none other hosts have lived as long a you, so he sends men to capture you but venom is having none of it.

⏤ venom!reader: you escape from the chairman's men while accidentally getting your boyfriend, soon-to-be fiancé murdered in the process. you swear to get revenge, and the hero commission is more than willing to turn you into a hero if it means using you to push their agendas.

⏤ venom!reader: you accept despite knowing this won't end well. your mind is on revenge and revenge only. you want to murder the chairman, but for now, you have to bide your time. you're paired with the pro hero hawks, and he wants to be your friend so damn bad. you're assigned as an apprentice under the number one hero and decide to use these people to help you with your revenge.

— venom!reader: you're able to charm everyone with a charismatic personality. okay. that was a lie. you're brash, reckless, and stubborn, but perhaps that's something the number one hero's masterpiece loves about you. you're like... the wild older sister that's always bringing chaos to the family. you take shoto todoroki out on outings when you're not working yourself to the bone, and it warms his icy heart. you return to his home bloody and bruised up after a long day of fighting villains, and the first thing on your mind is to help him with his homework? the way you look after him is so domestic and familial.

— venom!reader: you make shoto want to keep you in his home forever, away from harm's way. you're destined to be his older sister, and there's no way you can be anything else, right? he doesn't know you don't really care about him. you just treat shoto todoroki well to get on his father's good side. but he finds out your true feelings the night you spend rambling off in a drunken haze to fuyumi, who may as well be as wasted as you. you and her talk about one day moving and leaving everything behind, and shoto can feel his entire world fall apart. no. no. no. no. you and fuyumi are his older sisters! you're supposed to love and care for him. nothing more! your jobs have gotten into your heads too much! he can't let either of you leave. no. he won't let either of you leave. you've become shoto's lifeline, and he'll die of you disappear.

— venom!reader: if you aren't hunting down the people on your list at night, you spend the day doing the commission's dirty work. your partner, hawks, who aides you with your work, isn't the most tolerable person to be around, but he pays for your food every time the two of you go out, so you're not too keen on dropping him just yet. his constant remarks about how you should be his apprentice instead of endeavor's are a bit annoying, but you brush them off. the heroes working directly for the commission are all fucked up in some sense. you would know since you've worked for them, and your old partner form the old days is no exception. he shows you off to the media as his best friend, but just because the two of you hung out so much back when you were younger doesn't make you friends. at least in your eyes.

— venom!reader: you don't see the maniacal glint in hawks's eyes when he looks at you. he looks at you as if you're the entire world, but you don't even spare him a single glance. why? why do you not smile at him like you used to? why do you keep a distance from him? why? why do you hate him? why won't you just LOOK at him? why? why? why?

— venom!reader: weeks after the grand chase between you and the corporation's men, you're still left with a terrible reputation. you work as a hero, but the people view you as a villain, and your symbiote doesn't really help in fixing your tarnished reputation. so many people died because of the chase. you seem like such a villain. would it be surprising if you tried to join the league of villains? you join hawks as a mule in the l.o.v after much conviction, and none of the villains unsettle you as much as that guy, dabi.

— venom!reader: dabi's gaze unsettles you. it feels like he's picking you apart with his haunting sickness that has you questioning how good of an actor you are. he's clearly done his research on you when he asks about your apprenticeship under endeavor and how you live with the man. there's distaste in his tone not for just the todoroki family, but you too. the two of you fight a minute into the conversation, and you evade him so quickly, he's quite embarrassed. the two of you are forced to partner up multiple times, and it's the usual mean and snarky banter that has both of you wishing death upon the other.

— venom!reader: walking in on blood running from his eyes, you offer him your help to which he denies quite harshly. but you're adamant on gaining the trust of the league, and dabi's too tired to deal with you so he lays back on the couch and lets you clean up all the open wounds he's got. touch makes him disgusted. it has him wanting to hurl and scrub away at his skin till it bleeds all over again. but you're touch... isn't so bad. you handle him with care, something dabi thinks he's never felt before, and even though he feels that similar nausea creep up his throat, he can still let your hands ghost over his stables and open wounds.

— venom!reader: you're able to read him like an open book, and dabi hates it so damn much. he hates your sarcastic remarks. he hates your brash and reckless behavior. he hates how you treat him with such gentle care. like... like you actually care about him. it reminds him of fuyumi. he misses her. you're like her. then, he sees you get a call from that brat—that "masterpiece"—and dabi's blood boils a fury. you talk to that twerp with a tone full of care and understanding. why won't you talk to him like that? why is his puny little brother able to call you older sister? why do you smile at his words? you're supposed to smile at him. let him be your brother. damn it, the scarred villain will do anything if it means taking away everything endeavor and his damned masterpiece love. but you? endeavor doesn't matter at all. he just wants to see you call him brother. once. just once. though, dabi knows he'll lose it if you give into that wishful thinking.

⏤ venom!reader: you don't realize just how horrifying of a situation you've found yourself into until you are gifted the dead body of your next target with the name of the villain that killed the person carved on their back. there's eyes always on you, and red feathers constantly litter around the corners of your apartment. but you brush it off. you know, but you push it aside. your revenge was more important. you're so dedicated to your cause that it starts to take a toll on you physically and mentally.

⏤ venom!reader: you turn more and more villainous as you take away the lives of all the people standing in your path of revenge. you've become a blood-thirsty anti-hero, feeding your parasite human brains and yourself the blood of your enemies. you're getting closer and closer to your goal, but at what cost? the lives of so many that you've lost count? innocent and guilty—you're losing your ability to differentiate. blood, guts, and revenge are the only things on your deranged mind.

⏤ venom!reader: you keeps pushing the brewing situation away until you're running away from the very heroes and villains that are after you. you're like a ghost with how you've disappeared, but it seems like no matter where you run to, you're enamored admirers will always find you.

also, if ya'll are looking for a story with this prompt or premise, i've got the one for you. my book is called venom (link btw) and idk... now that i've gotten my e-begging out of the way, enjoy ur day.

[xozombiee]

SNAP - G. Rhee.

synopsis: night time with glenn in the prison

note: ik a lot of u are craving more glenn. gotta feed my followers🫡

warnings: finger fucking, asphyxiation lowkey…, this mf lowk a sub here, cowgirl, wtf that shit called when u put ur fingers in smb mouth dot dot dot (I NEED TO FEED MYSELF TOO OK)

the prison was dark. nighttime fell a few hours before, prompting everyone to get ready for bed. time had passed since then, so the prison was quiet.

you lay in bed with glenn, his hand was wrapped around your waist as you two slept. except you couldn’t really sleep..i mean, who can when there’s reanimated corpses outside your window?

your body was desperately wanting to re-situate itself after laying on one side for an hour and a half. you pressed your body against glenn’s, rupturing a small groan from him.

“babe? ..are you awake?” you asked him in a hushed voice.

“i am now.” he replied, which was more of a retort than anything.

you continued pressing against him, feeling the length underneath his shorts grow. the warmth of face presses into your neck, making you grin to yourself.

“i’m sorry, baby.” you whisper apologetically, though it wasn’t genuine. your hips moved once more, grinding yourself into him, and he groaned with his nose leaning into your hair.

you felt his hands move from your hips down to your lower stomach. his fingertips slowly pulled your nightgown up, revealing your underwear that rested underneath. your breath hitched in your throat as you felt him give a teasing tug at them.

“can i?” he murmured into your ear. he didn’t even have to elaborate before an eager ‘yes’ fell from your lips. glenn chuckled lowly, his fingers slipping inside the cotton.

two of his digits pressed into you, making you bite down on to your lip to suppress the noises that ruptured. as his hand was busy, the unoccupied one made its way to your throat, grasping it and squeezing it.

“shh..they’ll hear you.”

small, quiet noises rang through your shared cell. you let your eyes roll back a little as his thumb circled your clit, causing you to shutter against him.

the movement of his wrist picked up, soft squelching coming from below you. you could feel his breathing get heavier as his nose nudged your ear.

glenn groaned quietly, “so fucking good to me,”

the knot in your stomach built up soon enough from the soft praise in your ear. his fingers were long, longer than yours. he kept them clean, cut, and pretty for you.

as you continue riding his fingers, he keeps his hand against your throat. his lips graze the underside of your jaw, whispering lowly

“you g’na cum, baby? go ahead.” he cooed.

snap.

you came around his fingers so quickly. he sighed to himself as he felt your cunt flutter around his digits.

his hands removed themselves and found your waist once more, massaging circles into your skin. he watched your breathing even out as you attempted to come back to reality.

after so, you slowly sat up from your side, putting your weight to your knees as you positioned yourself on top of him.

“can i take care of you now, baby?” you asked him, rubbing his shoulders soothingly.

he nodded in reply, but you narrowed your eyes. you moved yourself directly on top of him, making him groan as his cock pulsed. “use your words, honey.”

he squeezed his eyes shut like he was in pain, but really, he was in enjoying it. he whispered a quiet ‘fuck’ before opening them and looking at you again.

“i want you to fuck me.” he pleaded, flashing his puppy dog eyes.

you were taken back by the bluntness of his words, but smiled sweetly. “now was that so hard?” you teased.

you inched toward him, pressing your glossy lips against his neck. as you marked him, your hand traveled down against his pajama shorts, feeling the outline of his length.

glenn let out a breathy moan into the air, but soon pressed his hand over his mouth after quickly realizing that others could hear him. you chuckled at him, tracing your fingers back up to reach the waistband of his pants. you pulled them up, dipping your hand into his underwear.

your fingertips circled the tip of his dick, making him shudder underneath you. a quiet ‘fuck’ and ‘good god’ were thrown around as you started pumping him slowly.

it only took him a minute or two before he was begging you to stop, wanting to finish inside you. you kiss below his ear then to his lips before you comply, slowly removing your underwear.

glenn’s eyes watch you. they’re wide and his pupils are blown from almost spewing a daycare into your palm. you climb back to your previous position, hips aligning with his before you slowly sink down.

taking a moment to adjust to him, you cradle his cheek into your palm, rubbing his flushed face with your thumb. you innocently clench around him for a reaction, watching him squeeze his eyes shut.

a small smile graces your lips, “so cute.”

he huffs at you, rolling his eyes. a small giggle falls from you, and he hisses at the vibrations that sent to his cock.

once you’re well adjusted, you slowly pull your hips upward before sinking back down. this process continues, making glenn’s fists bundle up your silk nightgown to your waist.

you leaned down, arms caging his head. “fuck..”

you look up at glenn, watching his eyes shine in the moonlight. “open your mouth for me, baby.” you whisper to him.

he complies, opening his mouth for you. with a smirk, you take two of your fingers and place them onto his tongue. “suck,”

glenn obeys, wrapping his lips around your pretty fingers. you feel his mouth play around your digits slowly. you speed up, feeling that high coming in once again.

“cum, baby,” you demand through your soft voice. it was all he needed to let go of the uncomfortable feeling within him.

the both of you release, your body trembling on top of his. the fingers in glenns mouth muffle the cry from him. a few beats go by before you remove yourself from him, laying back beside him where you once were.

“you satisfied now?”

a/n: this was so embarrassing and lazily written what the flip

k gonna disappear for 5 months again :3

(also dgaf if theres spelling mistakes)

[andydrysdalerogers]

You Belong With Me ~ Johnny Storm

Ranch Hand! Johnny Storm x Rancher’s Daughter!Reader 

Summary: Your best friend is in love with you. You just don’t know it yet… 

Song: You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift 

Word Count: 6.7k 

Warnings: angst, pet death, pining, minor domestic violence, smut! (Oral-female receiving, masturbation, p in v, loss of virginity)  

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Johnny POV

I’m in love with my best friend.  Problem is, she doesn’t know that.  

Three years ago, I started working on the YLN Rainbow Ranch for her father, Mr. YLN. First day on the job, I was told not to harass his daughter.  For weeks, I never met the girl in question. Then one day, a girl was in the stable, stroking the nose of one of the horses, Daisy.  

“Hey Miss? You’re not supposed to be here,” I called out.  It was close to dusk, and I was closing for the night. I walked over to the girl and tapped her shoulder. She jumped back, tripping on me. I caught her before she hit the ground. She popped a headphone out of her ear.   

“You scared me!” She looked at me with bright, wide eyes, her skin flawless, her hair in curly pigtails. She’s beautiful and I’m stunned. “Hey, let me go.” That’s when I realized that I’ve caught her in a dip and she’s looking up at me.  

I move quickly to get her on her feet, and I pull my cap off and run a nervous hand through my hair.  “Sorry, miss. The stables are closing.”  

“Its ok, I live here.  YN,” she offers her hand.  

“Johnny, I’m one of the ranch hands.”  

“Oh, cool. Sorry I’ve been away and only just got back from camp.”  

“That’s nice,” I tell her, trying not to stare.  

She looked at me curiously. “How old are you?” 

“Eighteen. You?” 

She looked shocked. “A gentleman should never ask a lady her age.”  

I chuckled. “Something tells me you ain’t no lady.”  

She giggled. “I’m fifteen.”  

Fuck, she’s jailbait. “Well, did you need someone to walk you back to the house?” 

She saw that it was getting dark, and she smiled.  “I would like that.”  

I knew I was risking my hide and my job if her father thought I was doing anything inappropriate. So I keep enough room between us as we walked.  “So, camp? How was that?” 

“Long but fun. I’m considered a counselor now so I get to be in charge but the kids are great, so it was just a fun sleepover.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ll do it again. I’d rather ride my horse all summer.”  

“Let me guess. Your horse is Daisy?” 

“Good guess. I’ve had her since I started riding at four. She’s my best friend. She listens to me and doesn’t judge me. Kinda like you,” she tells me. “You don’t talk a lot.”  

“Not really. My mouth usually gets me in trouble.” I smirk. “My twin sister says that my mouth can get me in and out of trouble.”  

“I can see that.” She gives me her own smirk. We get to her door. “Thanks for walking me back.”  

“Any time, Cowgirl.”  

“See ya, Cowboy.”  

It’s been that way for three years. Every day I worked hard and at night, YN would visit me in the barn as I finished for the day. I’d walk her home and say good night. When she was having a hard day, I would climb to her window and whisper with her, never going inside for fear of her father finding me.  

Until one day, she stopped coming to the barn.  

Three years later… 

I was closing up the barn, waiting for YN, when I saw another car pull up to the house. I saw a guy get out and knock on the door. I watched as my YN came out with a smile and a pretty dress and took the hand of the guy that wasn’t me. She climbed into the car, and they drove off.  

She took my heart with her. 

It was her senior year. She is eighteen now. And I wanted to ask her out but I was too late. I finished my duties, headed to my own truck and went to the bar, to drown my sorrows.  

The next morning was brutal. I barely made it to work on time with the hangover of the century.  

Time went on and I did my job, caring for the horses, getting them out to the yard for exercise or grooming. It had been about three months since YN had started dating Ransom. What the hell kinda name was Ransom anyway? I kept my thoughts to myself. YN would still visit me on occasion, gushing about her new beau and how perfect he was. I tried to be as supportive has possible as her best friend but it killed me inside,  

One March afternoon, I went to take the horses out to their yard. We had another month before we started moving cattle so I got them to roam and exercise as best I could. I went to Daisy’s stall, but she wasn’t herself. She whines and stamps; she was in distress. I ran for YN’s father.  “Mr. YLN! You gotta call the vet! Something is wrong with Daisy!” He pulled out his phone as I ran back to the horse.  

“It's ok girl, we’ll get you all fixed up, you’ll see.” I stoked her neck and nose, trying to calm her. Fifteen minutes later, Doc Brown, the vet, came in and did a check.  I tried to keep her calm as he checked on her.  

After a few minutes, Doc removed his glasses. “I’m sorry Mr. YLN. Daisy has twisted gut. Normally I would say surgery but given her age, I don’t think that’s wise. It would just cause more pain.”  

“Shit.” Her father looked up to blink back tears. “I need to call YNN.”  

“I can do it, Mr. YLN,” I offered. He nodded as he discussed logistics with Doc. I reached for my phone and called, taking a deep breath as it rang. 

“Hey Cowboy!” 

“Hey Cowgirl. Where are you?” 

“I’m having lunch with Mama. Why?” 

I tried to keep my voice steady. “YN, I need you to come to the horse barn right now.”  

“Is everything ok?” 

“No. It’s Daisy.”  

“Daisy? Mama, we have to go. I’ll be right there, Johnny.” She hung up and I turned to Doc and Mr. YLN. “YN and Mrs. YLN are on the way.”  

“Thanks Johnny. Can you stick around?”  

“Sure.” I hung back as they moved Daisy to a bigger stall so she would have more room. I’ve seen animals put down before but not one that was considered more family than anything else. Twenty minutes later, YN came running in. “Daddy! Johnny! What’s going on? Why is Diasy in there?” 

Her father puts his hands on her shoulders. “Sweetheart, Daisy has twisted gut. Doc tried to fix it but the only way to do that is with surgery.”  

“Ok. Are they getting ready for that?” She asks with hope.  

Mr. YLN sighs. “No baby. She’s too old for that. We have to…” 

“No,” she backs away. “No, she’s my Daisy! You can’t…” She runs into the pen with Daisy and hangs onto her neck, sobbing uncontrollably. We all give her some time as I help Doc get everything ready.  

“It’s time, YNN,” her dad calls.  

“Daddy, please, don’t let them do this. Let’s fix her, please!”she cries.  

“If I thought it would be the best thing for her, if Doc thought she would survive, I would. But she’s an old girl and its time. I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He tries to hug his daughter, but she wiggles free and runs right into my arms. I hold her tight, feeling her tears run through her body. I look at my boss and his heart his broken for his little girl.  

“Do you want to stay, YN? We can wait outside if…” 

“No,” she cuts me off, “I want to stay with her.”  

“Ok, we can stay. I’ll hold your hand if you want.” 

She turned away from me but kept my hand in hers. “I’m r-ready, Doc.”  

“Ok, I’ll inject a sedative to put her to sleep and then administer the narcotic. She won’t feel anything, YN.”  

She nods but goes to Daisy one more time. “I love you, Daisy. Thank you for being my best friend.” She kisses her nose one more time before she comes back to me. She grips my hand hard. I see her father eyeing me warily. But I stand tall.  

Once the doc administered the last dose, YN wailed and turned into me again. I held her to me, letting her cry. She needed this, to just cry for the loss of her best friend. As she starts to hiccup, I whisper to her, “Let’s get you home, ok?” She nods and I guide her out.  

She continues to cry as I walk her to the house. Her cell phone rings and she answers, trying to calm her voice. “Ransom? Are you on your way? We stop walking as she talks to that entitled prick. But I need you… Daisy died and… no I understand… am I going to… ok, bye.” She turned to me and blushed. “His grandfather needs him,” waving the phone.Her smile came out watery. “He’ll come by later.”  

One more tear fell from her eye. I cupped her cheek and thumbed her cheek to clear the tear. “I’m here, Cowgirl.” I pull her to me and rest my chin on her head as she sobbed. I walked her to the porch steps, and I sat us down. It took a while but she finally got to sniffle. “You doing, ok?” 

“Yeah.” She looked at me with your beautiful eyes, red rimmed, puffy lips, tear-stained cheeks. “He’s not a bad guy, you know.”  

“I know.”  

“But I’m thankful I have you.” She smiles. “Will you come see me tonight?” 

“Cowgirl, that is not…” 

“Please, Johnny. I just want to talk and get out of my head. “She gave me her puppy eyes and I fucking cave.  Because I always cave.  

I’d do anything for her.  

“Sure, Cowgirl. I’ll be by around midnight.”  

“Thank you, Cowboy.”  

At midnight, I came on my bike and parked behind the barn, so I didn’t wake her parents. There’s an old tree right next to her window that I always scale. Thankfully, her parent’s room is on the other side of the house. There is a faint light in the window. The night light she’s had since five, was still on. It was the shape and color of Daisy and I knew she had it in because she was missing her friend. Once I got onto the roof, I gently tapped the window so YN knew I was there. She opened the curtain and smiled at me in the window. She opened it gently. “Hi Cowboy.”  

“Hey Cowgirl.” I sat next to the window. “How are you feeling?” 

She gave me a sad smile. “I’m ok. Ransom didn’t come by. He said he was too busy.” She sighed and looked at her lamp. “I miss her.”  

“I know you do, Cowgirl. But after a while, we’ll find you a new horse to raise because that’s what Daisy would want.”  

“You think?” 

“Well, if something happened to me, I would want you to find a new best friend because I never want you to be alone. I feel like Daisy and I are kindred spirits like that.  We both love you.”  

I didn’t realize the implication of my words. They were the truth, that’s all I know. I looked out at the moon and sighed. Every day I wished she knew that she belonged with me. That she would wake and see me and knew what she that I was the one she was looking for. But I can’t force her. I’d still be there for her no matter what.  

“You mean that, Johnny?” I turned to face her, and she was closer to me.  

A tendril of hair had escaped her messy bun and I gently pushed in behind her ear. Yeah, YN, I mean it.  

She studied me with those beautiful eyes before she leaned forward and pressed her soft lips to mine. I was stunned for half a second before I gave myself into it. I put my hand on her neck to hold her close to me and deepened it. I would have been a big fat fucking liar if I didn’t say that it was the best kiss of my life. I finally pulled back to let us breathe but kept our foreheads together. “Cowgirl…” 

“Yes, Cowboy?” 

“That was… amazing.”  

“Yeah, it was.” She pulled back smiling before her face started to fall. “Oh my… Johnny, I’m…” 

I stop her. “Don’t say your sorry. Please. I don’t regret any of that. But I understand. You have a boyfriend. I respect that. But I’m always here for you, Cowgirl.” I look at my watch. “I should go. I have to be back here in five hours.”  

She frowned but when I turned to leave, she grabbed my hand and stopped me. “Are you riding Torch tomorrow?” 

Torch was one of the wild horses we had caught.  I had been trying to tame him but he was still pretty wild.  The only people he seems to like was YN and me. But I’d be dammed if she got on him.  “Yes, but you need to stay out of the pen, Cowgirl. You can help me when he’s tied to the fence. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek and took off.  

I relived that kiss in my head the entire night and in the shower the next morning.  

I was in the yard a couple of weeks later, trying to work with Torch. “C’mon boy, work with me here,” I gritted out. The horse neighed and I looked to see YN and Ransom watching. “C’mon Torch, let’s show our girl what we can do.”  I manage to get the saddle on him and climbed on. “Ok, Torch, let’s walk.” I walked around the yard a couple of times. Then I got him into a canter.  

“Looking good, Cowboy!” I smiled over my shoulder to YN but frowned when Ransom wrapped his arm around her waist. I kept working, trying to keep the jealousy off my face. He has his hands on my girl. I unfocus for just a second and Torch bucks. I get unseated and hit the ground, knocking the wind out of me.  “Johnny!” 

I hear it far away as I try to unblur my vision and get oxygen back in me. I turn over as I see YN climb the fence, her hat being blown off and Torch is headed right for her. I suck in a breath.  

“YN! No!” I scramble and leap for the reigns. I catch them by the tips of my fingers and pull Torch away from her. I hang on as he pulls until one of the other ranch hands grabs the leather and I can let go. I lay on the ground, breathing hard, trying to get the image of YN’s face of terror out of my eyes.  

“Johnny!” She skids to a stop next to me, kneeling over. “Are you ok?” 

I shake my head as I keep trying to breathe. “YN, you can’t just jump in the ring. Cowgirl, I was terrified you were going to get hurt.”  

“I don’t care.” She cups my cheek. “I was so scared you hit your head.”  

“YN!” I hear Ransom bark at her. “You’re getting dirty and we have to meet my parents! Get off the dirt and go change!” 

I got up and dusted myself off. I helped YN off the dirty and squeezed her hand. “I’m fine YN. I’ll be bruised but ok.” I pick up her hat and dust it off. I put it back on her head. “Thank you for checking on me.”  

“Anytime Cowboy.” I open the gate for her to get her out and close it.  Ransom takes YN’s hand and pulls her to the house, yelling about how she was going to make them late. I shake my head, knowing I can’t really do anything if I want to keep my job.  

Somehow, Mrs. YLN finds out about the incident and comes out to check on me. “Johnny Storm, front and center!” I hear her call out.  I smile because Mrs. YLN is the sweetest and loves all the guys on the ranch, but she has a particular sweet stop for me. I walk up to her, and she can see the bruise on my arm, but I guess I have a cut on my face. “Johnny! Go to the house and wash your face. I’ll be right there and I have apple pie for you.”  

“Yes ma’am.” I walked over to the house and went upstairs to the guest bathroom.  It’s where she kept the first aid. As I was washing, I heard loud voices coming from down the hall. I walked slowly and saw YN and Ransom arguing through the crack of her door.  

“I don’t know why you still hang out with that horse smelling farm hand?!” Ransom yelled.  

“He is a rancher and he’s my best friends. Johnny is a good guy.”  

“He’s some poor asshole…” 

“Stop it Ransom! He is my friend and you need to respect our friendship!” 

He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her next to him. “He wants what’s mine,” he growled at her. She turned away and gripped her chin to keep her eyes on him. “You’re going to tell him to leave you alone.”  

She sticks her chin up. “And if I don’t?” 

“You will regret it.”  He shoves her back and she hits her nightstand. I watch as her night light topples and breaks.  

I storm into the room. “Hey!” I push Ransom out of the way to reach YN. “YN, are you alright?” 

I can see the tears forming in her eyes. But they weren’t on me. They were on her lamp. “Johnny…” her voice quivers. She looks at me as one solitary tear fall from her eye. I can feel the rage building in me. I turn back to Ransom.  

“You son of a bitch! You hurt her.” I shoved him and he stumbled towards the door.  

“Fuck you asshole!” He took a swing at me but I managed to dodge it and get it a hit in his gut. It drops him, gasping for air.  

I grab YN’s hand and pull her from the room.  “C’mon YN!” I race down the stairs and out the back door. I run towards my bike and get the helmets. “Put this on, Cowgirl.”  

“Johnny, you know my father will be pissed!” 

“I don’t care. I can’t leave you with that monster.”  I turn to look at her as she plays with the straps of the helmet. “Do you want to stay with him?” She shakes her head. “Do you want to be with me, Cowgirl?” She looks at me, a soft blush blooming on her cheeks. I tuck a lock of hair. “Tell me.”  

“You’re my best friend.” The statement makes my heart sink and I drop my gaze. “But I’ve always wanted a chance with you.” I snap back up and she smiles.  She leans in and kisses me. Not like the first time, where it started soft and sweet.  This one urgent, lustful. I cup the back of her head to pin her to me. I lick the seam of her lips, asking her to let me in. She let me deepen the kiss and I was in heaven.  

When I heard yells coming from the house, I broke it and turned my head. “Baby, we have to go.” I shoved my helmet on and then helped YN, jumped on the bike, helped her up and gunned it out of the yard.  

I made it out to the lake and the boathouse on the other side of the county. YN’s family think she would go to my place or my family’s but I’m not an idiot. I pull into the yard and stopped, taking my first deep breath since she kissed me. I held out my hand to help YN off the bike.  She stood, watching down the dirt road. “Are we safe here Cowboy?” 

“We should be, Cowgirl. C’mon.” I opened the big dock door to hide my bike and walked us in. It was dusty and dark, but it was a safe place. I had my lighter and was able to light a couple of candles to see where we were going.  But not soon enough as I walked into a giant cobweb. “Fuck! Shit!” I yelled as I batted away the sticky strings.  

YN giggles as she watches before she screeches and runs towards me. “Johnny!” 

“Baby, what…” 

“I think I felt a snake!” 

I tried to hold my laugh. “Baby, there are no snakes by the water.”  I finally found the light switch and the room was illuminated with a soft golden glow.  I went to where she stood before and then let out a laugh.  “Was this your great snake?” I held up an old fishing rod with a feather lure at the end.  

“Shut up Johnny, it scared me!” She crossed her arms and pouted at me.  

I came up to her and caressed her face. “My beautiful girl. I’m sorry.” I kiss her forehead. “Want to sit on the dock?”  She nodded and I took her hand. 

The sun was setting across the water. YN sat at the edge of the dock and let her legs dangle over the water. I sat right behind her and wrapped her in my arms. We were quiet for a while, listening to the crickets and cicadas harmonize in the twilight. I kissed her cheek and then down to her neck and she leaned to give me access. “Do you know how long I wanted to hold you and kiss you like this?” I whispered to her.  

“Not as long as I have.” She turned to me and smiled.  “I wish I had the courage to spend more time with you when I was 15.”  

“Sweetheart, your father forbade all of us to try and be with his daughter. I was a scared 18-year-old and not in the right place to give you what you deserved.” I kissed her nose before I kissed her properly. We went back to watching the sky turn from blue to yellow to orange to pink and then purple. “Why were you dating that guy? What did he have?” 

“I don’t know. Daddy introduced us and he took an interest.” She looks down at the water. “It was the day after I saw you in town with Sharon Carter. I thought,” she shook her head, “I thought that you really didn’t like me and then I just wanted to move on.”  

I know what day she is talking about.  It was the day Susie had set me up on a blind date. We met for a coffee in town, but Sharon told me from the beginning that she had feelings for someone else. We chatted about her horse, and she asked I could come train him. I explained this to YN. “I declined because I had just started working on Torch.” I caressed her cheek. “I didn’t want to take away my time from you.” 

She looked up at me, her beautiful eyes studying me. I could get lost in them. She turned and straddled my lap, her sundress riding up. Fuck, why had she already changed before her confrontation with Ransom. Did that dick get to see her naked? I shook the thoughts from my mind as I gripped her hips as she settled into my lap, making sure that she doesn’t tip back into the lake. Her arms are looped around my neck. She doesn’t say anything, not a single word or noise.  She just keeps those eyes on me, staring at me like a painting. Finally, she leans down and kisses me. I follow her lead, just like I would follow her anywhere if she asked me. Her fingers tangle into my hair as my hands splayed across her back and neck.  

I can feel her warmth right over my cock. I can feel myself growing harder under her as she begins to move over me. She’s grinding that pussy into me and I know I will lose it if I don’t stop it.  I try to still her but she keeps moving.  She lets go of my mouth to start kissing my neck and working the buttons of my shirt. “Baby, baby, stop,” I finally say. She pulls back, a look of hurt crossing her face. “No, baby, I just don’t want to do this here. I don’t want anyone to see you in pleasure besides me.” I grip under her ass as I move to lift her in my arms and carry her to the bedroom in the boathouse.  

You would think the room would be dusty and dirty, but it wasn’t.  I had been hiding out here on and off for the last few years. My father wasn’t a good man and I didn’t stick around when he started drinking.  My mom had left a few years before and Suzy lived with Reed so I was on my own. But I made the best of it. The bed had a clean quilt and everything was dusted and swept.  I even cleaned the bathroom.  

I laid my girl on the bed, slotting my hips in between her legs. I kissed her hard, fuck, I wanted her so bad. But I didn’t want her to think that this was all I wanted.  I slowed our kisses. “Johnny?” 

“I don’t want you to think that I just want this, Cowgirl. I’m in love with your fire, your spirit, your compassion, well, just you. Everything you.” I swallowed. “If you don’t want to do this, I understand, and we’ll wait.” I looked away for just a second before she used a finger to push me back into her eyesight.  

“Johnny Storm, I have been waiting for you for three years.”  

My eyes widen. “Are you...” She nods and looks away. I pull her gaze back. “Baby, are you sure?” 

“You belong to me Johnny, just like I belong to you.”  

I swallow. “We’ll go slow, ok? If I hurt you, just let me know and we’ll stop.” She nods and kisses me. I pull back. “I need your words, YN.”  

“I trust you Johnny.”  

I got up to my knees, still in between her legs and I started to unbutton my shirt. She watched me with big eyes, still unsure but never letting go. When I pulled it off, a soft gasp came from her mouth. That made me smirk. I pulled her up to me, sitting her. I tugged at the bottom of her pretty little sundress and pulled it over her head. I groaned at the site of her in just pink lace. I guided her back down to the bed and started to kiss every inch of skin I could find.  

YN sighed. I slid the pink strap of her bra down her shoulders and arms, kissing her skin as I went. I kissed the tops of her breasts and then pulled a cup down to take the peaked nipple in my mouth.  I nibbled and sucked as YN arched her back at the sensation.  “Johnny,” she moaned. Fuck, listening to my name come from her lips almost sent me over the edge. I moved to the other one while a pinched and twisted the first. I released her and then unclipped the offending fabric.  

I kept moving down, skimming her skin with my fingertips and my lips as she squirmed underneath me. I got to her lace pants and kissed her covered mound, inhaling her scent. “Dammit baby, you smell like heaven. Can I taste you?” 

She was silent and I lifted my head to see tears. “Baby?” 

“I’m scared. What if you don’t like me?” The sound of her uncertainty, her fear, broke my heart.  

“Oh, sweetheart.” I went back to hover over her. “I know that you will be the best taste I’ve ever had. The best partner I could ever ask for.” I let my hands wander as caress over the hem of her panties. “I promise, I’ll make you feel good.”  

She peered up at me and smiled. “Ok.”  

Such a simple little word can bring the heat in my veins. I kiss her softly again as I slide my hand into her panties.  I swallow her cry as tease her slit. “So wet, Cowgirl. For me?” 

She nods. “Is that a good thing?” 

“That’s an amazing thing.” I dip into her tight hole. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.” She rolls her hips in time to the thrust of my hand, seeking my touch. “You like that YN?”  She nods again as she lets go of another low moan. My cock is straining behind my Wranglers, desperate to get out and play with the woman underneath me.  I stroke one more time and then bring my finger to my mouth.  She jaw drops at suck her cream from my finger.  “I knew you would taste good.” 

I don’t give her the chance this time.  I pull down her panties off her legs and stuff them in my pocket. “Johnny...” she started but soon she moaned as I licked my way up her slit. I kissed, sucked and teased her clit, finger fucked her until she was withering under me. “Give it to me Cowgirl. Let go.” 

“I can’t,” she cried, “Johnny, I...” 

“Its ok, let go for me, my love.”  

She cried as her orgasm took over, her body shook and her pussy strangled my fingers. I kept it gentle, knowing that this was the first one but certainly not the last. I could she her coming down so I gently pulled my fingers away. I licked my finger clean and then undid my jeans. “Are you ready for me Cowgirl?” I pulled my jeans and boxers off and fished a condom from my wallet.  

Her eyes were big. “Cowboy, that is not going to fit.”  

I gave her a sexy smirk. “We’ll make it fit.” I rolled it on and then slowly climbed back on top of her. I slotted my hips between her legs and kissed her hard and deep.  My cock seeks out the warmth of her pussy and notched at her entrance. “Ready?” 

“Yes. Please be gentle,” she whispered.  

“Always, Cowgirl.” I pushed in softly, groaning at how hot and tight she is. “Oh fuck, baby.” Her nails dug into my back but I didn’t focus on the pain. I pushed until I felt resistance. “I’m sorry baby but this will hurt. I promise it’ll feel good after.” I thrusted hard and she screamed. I held her too me as she thrashed her head, sobbing.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry love.”  

“Johnny!” She cried. It took a few minutes, but she calmed, and I move slightly. She moaned at the feel of my cock in her. “I feel so full,” she moaned.  

“That’s good, love. I’m going to move, ok?” She nodded and I withdrew gently, seeing her wince. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“No, no, I just,” she swallowed. “It's so much.”  

“I know. Just let your body feel.”  I withdrew until the head of my cock was the only piece in her and thrusted back in gently. Her head tossed back with a moan. I did that a few more time until I heard her say, “more.” I sped up my movements, pulling her leg over my hip to open her up a bit more.  

“Oh fuck, Cowboy, right there. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” She buried her head in my neck as I pumped into her.  

“I won’t stop until you give me another Cowgirl.” I moved my hand and used my finger to circle her clit.  She cried out more and I circled a little faster. I started to feel the sensation in my spine and I knew I was close.  “Fuck, tell me you’re close, Cowgirl.” 

“So close,” she moaned. I moved faster. My hips slamming into her, my finger pressing her little button of pleasure faster and harder. Her cry changed and I started to recognize it.  

“Come for me,” I ordered. That’s all it took as she detonated around me, squeezing me, milking me, triggering my own release into her. I slowed, both breathing hard. “Are you ok?” I was scared I hurt her with how hard I had been fucking her.  

“I’m great,” she said with a smile. “I get it now, what all my romance books talked about. It does feel like the best ride.”  

I laughed with her. I pulled out gently, knowing it would hurt. She winced but cupped my cheek to let me know she was ok.  There was a little blood on the condom and blanket but I didn’t make her feel bad. I got another blanket to cover her while I took the other one away. I threw away the condom and took a washcloth to her. She jumped when I touched her, but I knew it was just because of how sensitive she had become. I climbed back into bed with her and hauled her into my arms. She rested her head on my chest. “Johnny?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you.”  

“I love you, Cowgirl. Get some rest.” I kissed her head and smoothed down her hair. I fell asleep to her rhythmic breaths against me.  

I was sleeping with an angel in heaven.  

Muted sunlight filters in as I lay on my back, stroking my girl’s hair as she sleeps in the early morning. I think about the last three years, pining after the girl in my arms.  She wasn’t ready for me then. But now that I have her, I’ll never let her go.  

She starts to stir and wake. She stretches a little before looking up at me. “Hi.”  

“Hi Cowgirl. How are you feeling?” 

She smiles softly. “A little sore. But happy.” I lean to kiss her. Her eyes flutter as they open again.  “Good morning, Cowboy.”  

“This is the best way to start the day, my beautiful Cowgirl.”  I kiss her again when I hear a beep from somewhere. I reach down for my jeans and fish my phone from the pocket. There was a text message from her father 

Mr. YLN: Please bring my daughter home. 

I sighed and looked at my girl. “It’s time sweetheart.”  

She frowned but nodded. As we dressed, I gave YN a pair of my boxer briefs to wear since I tore her panties. It gave me a boost knowing she was wearing my underwear under her dress.  I cleaned up, feeling like I would be back living here soon since I would probably lose my job. But I had a feeling, I would still have YN.  

The ride back was quiet. I didn’t know what we would be walking into. Would her father try and kill me because I took his daughter and took her innocence? Would he press charges? I knew I would be facing something I just didn’t know what.  

We pulled into the driveway and went right up to the house. I helped YN off and took her helmet. “You know I love you right?”  

She nodded but her face was nervous. “I know. I love you too. We do this together?” I took her hand.  

“Together.”  

We walked up the steps to her house. I knocked and the door immediately opened. Her mother answered. “YN. Johnny.” She looked down at our joined hands and smiled. She waved us into the living room where Mr. YLN and Random were waiting for us.  

“Mr. YLN. Mr. Drysdale.” I hated that I had to greet that fucker. I remembered yesterday and how he had pushed my girl. I remember seeing the bruise on her side. I had kissed the pain away when I worshipped her body but I would never forgive him for marking her.  

“Johnny, YN, I’m happy you came back.” He looked at our hands and then back at his daughter. “What were you thinking YN? You ran away from our home with our ranch hand without explanation. Your mother and I have been worried sick. If I hadn’t checked the cameras…” 

YN gripped my hand tighter and then interrupted her father. “I ran away because I didn’t feel safe in my own home.”  

The look of disbelief crossed her father's face. “What? What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You didn’t look in her room, did you?” I asked.  

“No. Ransom was in the living room and said you ran away with the farm boy after you had assaulted him.”  

I scoffed. “That’s rich. We’re not on a farm jackass,” I directed to Ransom. “We are a ranch. But that’s beside the point. The reason for the assault was because I was protecting YN from him. He was yelling at her, making her cry and then he shoved her into her nightstand and broke her horse lamp.”  

My words had the power to stop time. Ransom’s face turned red from rage as her father's face blanched. I could see what he was thinking. The man she introduced to his daughter was a monster.  

“You have no proof, farm boy!”  

“I’ve seen the bruises you asshole. I held her as she cried for the last reminder of her best friend that she had because you broke it.” 

Action was swift. Mr. YLN grabbed Ransom around the collar. “You put your hands on my daughter?!” Ransom gapped like a fish. “You thought you could lie to me. I know your grandfather and believe you me that he will hear about this. Get out of my house and off my property you worthless piece of shit.” Mr. YLN cocked his arm back and punched Ransom square in the jaw. He fell in a pile to the floor and grabbed his face.  

I helped him up and threw him out the door. “You fucked with the wrong girl Drysdale.”  

“She was mine!” He yelled back. “I will end you!”  

“Guess what? She was never yours. She was always mine. She belongs to me, and I belong to her. And you can just fuck off.”  

I went back inside and faced her father. “She’s yours?” 

“Sir, I have been in love with your daughter since the day I met her. I just wanted to wait until she knew that I was hers. I love her, sir, with everything I have.”  

There is nothing like riding a horse. The freedom, the raw power, there is nothing like it. Especially when you girl is holding onto you as you ride the horse you trained together.  

It was nearing dusk, the sky changing to it’s beautiful pinks and reds and purples. I had ridden out to the lake on the opposite side of the boathouse. When I got to the water’s edge I stopped and helped YN down before I got down. It had been six months since the confrontation with Ransom. And they had been the happiest six months of my life. We walked along the edge, listening to the sounds of the coming eve, Torch neighing. I was nervous.  

“Baby, why are you trembling?” My Cowgirl stopped me and had a look of concern in her eyes.  

“Sorry, I just…” I cleared my throat. “I just have something to ask you. Do you love me?” 

“More every day.”  

“Do I make you happy?” 

“I’m the happiest girl in the world.”  

“Ok good. Because I’ve never been so happy YN and that’s all because of you. And I never want to let go of that happiness. So…” I pulled the box from my pocket and knelt to one knee. “My Cowgirl, will you marry me?” 

I opened the box to show off a modest pear-shaped diamond on a gold band. It had been all I could afford but her father said I could upgrade later since I’d be the ranch manager soon.  

“Johnny,” she gasped. “Yes, she whispered, Cowboy, yes!” 

I put that ring on her finger and lifted her into my arms.  

After all this time, she saw that I was the one who understood her, who got her, who loved her.  

She belonged to me.  

I belonged to her.  

Forever.  

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@kandis-mom

@lokislady82

@raven-blue3000

[haruchi-slit]

"THERAPY IS EXPENSIVE BUT DICK IS FREE"

warnings: mdni, toji and reader meet in the bar, ooc (slight?), reader refered as: girl & slut, fucking against the wall, p in v, pussy eating, semi-public sex, not proof read... | a/n: almost scrapped this idea cause i had a migraine, i almost died :o

so exhausted from work and life? why not go have fun once in a while with your friends at the club? it had been a long and difficult week for you, dealing with the aftermath of your broken engagement to your now ex-fiance.

working under the pressure of your personal life is damn tough, you can't even get one work done without breaking into tears, remembering your fiancé of 5 years left you for some girl he met at work, his voice still echoes non-stop in your brain, the night he confronted you about your relationship, "I'm sorry, but i cant do this i cheated on you..." and it just makes your heart pulse and fuel with hatred and pain, with your hand in your head you sighed deeply as you continued to type in your laptop, your mascara all ruined and your eyes were sore, "I can't believe he can do that, fucking bitch, fucking shit, goodness burn in hell!" you grunt as you broke in to tears, you were a crying mess, you lolled your head back to your chair as streams of tears overwhelmed your thoughts,

"fuck-" you sighed, before hearing a knock on your office door, "w-wait!" you grumbled, wiping off your tears with the back of your hand, you stood up catching your breath as you opened the door you were greeted by shoko with yuki,

"heyyy! what are you two doing here?" you forced a smile, "girl are you ok? your fucking mascara is all over your face!" shoko worriedly asked as she nursed your cheeks wiping off your messed up mascara, "shoko, take a closer look, do you think she's ok? of course not, duh!" yuki blurted out as you chuckled,

"ok- guys what the fuck are you guys doing here?" you uttered,

"to get you outta misery!" yuki snickers, "yeah, what yuki said-" shoko sighed, "were taking you to the club, to destress" shoko continued,

"but i have work to do-" you dabated, "no butts, it's already been 2 months! i already talked to nanamin, he said it's fine and choso will take care of your work!" yuki exclaimed.

"you guys know i have to change right?" you rolled your eyes, sitting in the backseat of yuki's car, "yeah, that's why we brought you a some...stuff" shoko reaches out for the paper bag in the back of the car before giving it to you, "just change here in the car, the window's tinted" yuki chuckles as she focused on the road...

as soon as the three of you arrived at the club, you stepped out of the car along with yuki and shoko "youu look so fineee!" yuki smiled holding both of your hands, "damn, thank you", you smiled back, "guys c'mon let's go, i need a drink asap" shoko snapped the two of you back before she walked in the club, "yee let's have fun!" yuki exclaimed dragging you in the club, the three of you sat on the couch while the music blasts against your ears, it was so loud, the flickering lights blinded you as you looked around.

your eyes focused to the girls and guys bumping to each in the dancefloor, the stage crowded with girls doing the most nastiest moves as cash blows around them, till a particular person caught your attention, raven dark hair, green piercing eyes, tall and broad, bulging muscles and someone who looks like they're in their mid 30's, he's so fucking fine, glamorous even. while the three of you chat, and drink you and that gorgeous man exchanged the glares, he gives you one of the finest smirks across the club, all you could do was stare at him with a unconscious smirk plastered in your face,

"who are you looking at?" yuki sheepishly asked, while she waved one of her eyebrows, "definitely no one" you scoffed, as you swirled your alcohol in the glass cup, "oh really?" shoko jested, the three of you laughed, you took a glance on him once more while you sipped your alcohol to its last drop, you pressed your eye lids together as the alcohol flow down your throat.

"agh- let's go and have fun" you hissed, wiping of the alcohol that trickled down on the edges of your lips with your hand, "shitttt, and here we go the old her is backkk!" shoko exclaimed with yuki following you to the dance floor, where people are grinding against each other, you swayed your way close to him, you knew it was risky, flirting with a stranger in a bar, but you couldn't resist the opportunity to forget your dumb ass ex, you got a little closer to him grabbing his attention, "hey there mama, are you alone?" he starts of, radiating with charmness and suave, with a hint of danger in his dark eyes that only made him more appealing, "nah, I'm with my friends, here to forget my fucking ex" you drawn out hazed with the shots of alcohol you've just drunk, "oh really?" he chuckles "yeah, that fucking bitch wasted five years. five fucking years" you huffed, rolling your eyes, he smirks clearly amused by you, "toji. name's toji" he spoke and he was so fucking smooth with it, you chuckled in response, "no, need to know my name...toji" the both of you talked for what seemed like hours, lost in each other's company and the music pulsing through the club. you found yourself grinding against him as your conversation flowed so smoothly,

"y'know, i can take your pain away, hah" he whispers, his hot breath fanning your ear, sending shivers to your core,

before you knew it, toji was leading you to the club's restroom, his touch was gentle and reassuring, yet it was so rough, as he guided you through the crowd, you felt a surge of adrenaline at the thought of what was about to happen, a mix of fear and desire swirling in your veins as he pushed open the door and pulled you inside, you were so drunk in his presence...

in the dimly lit restroom, toji's lips met yours in a searing kiss that ignited a fire within your thobbing cunt. you instantly melted against him, with your body responding to his touch with a need that eclipsed all rational thought,

"t-touch me more-hah! kiss me more, please!" you gasped, as his hand roamed freely on you, his hand tracing on the edges and crevices of your perfect body, giving the attention that it needs, which your ex didn't do, he pressed you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that matched with your own, he rolled your dress up to your chest, almost ripping it off, he'd kiss your forehead before his kisses traveled down to your shoulders, stomach, before he dropped down to his knees, facing your clothed aching cunt,

"all I've done was touch and kiss you- so fucking wet already?" toji huffs, as you struggled to stand properly inside the bathroom stall, he tugs the hem of your panties as letting it pool down to the floor of the restroom, you placed your hand to his broad shoulders, the other on his hair, you saw him lick his lips, before diving down to your pulsing cunt, pushing you deep on the cold wall of the restroom, his hand grabbed a handful of your ass and thighs placing it on his shoulder prying your legs a little bit wider,

"hmmmnn~" you'd groan, stealing a pleased hum from you, as the brige of his graced your clit while he bobs his head up and down, you could feel his grunts vibrating against your gushing pussy, matched with his skilled tongue laying on your dripping cunt,

"t-toji- hgh" you moaned gripping on his hair, as he continues to bob his head on you,

"toji-" you moaned once again, with a breathy plea, "easy-" he purrs, before diving once more between your thighs, your thighs quivered as you feel your climax near.

in that moment, there was only toji and you locked in a dance of desire and need that transcended words, he moved his tongue in your cunt with grace and skill that took your breath away, with each lick he made sent you higher and higher towards a climax that left you gasping for more, "c'mon, girl..." he murmured fanning your cunt with his scorchingly hot breath, you felt your breath hitch as your climax gushed on his face,

"hghhh-toji!" you gasped, breathless.

catching your while he stood up hungrily unbuckling his belt, letting his pants fall down on the floor along with his boxers, revealing his hard cock, before he landed a rough, passionate kiss on your tender lips, you respond to him, feeling butterflies filling your

stomach, as your knees fell weak, your mouths puffing heated breaths agaist each other, while your hands roamed freely on him.

he lifts you up and pressed your body to the restroom's wall as he aligned his angry tip on your entrance, before plunging his cock in you

"ahck!- ngh~" you moaned softly as your gummy walls was quick to wrap toji's aching cock, toji grunts as he pushed you deeper against the wall burying his cock on your heavenly cunt,

"mhmm, that's what i like, girl- sucking me in so good, such a slut" he laughs, thrusting deeper in you, as waves of ecstasy, washed all over your body, your eyes clouded with haze and lust, your legs instinctively wrapped against his waist as he plunged mercilessly in your pussy, "fwuaack-!" he blabbered as sweat trickled down on his forehead, your chests heaving uncontrollably while toji buries his face on the crook of your neck, fastening his pace, "so.fucking.tight!" he cursed under his breath, while he slams his hips on you,

"to-to'i m' close, m' close!" you warned,

and soon after both of you felt a sense of release wash over your bodies, feeling estatic, both of you catched your breath as you feel your mixed juices trickle down the floor, he pulls back and faced you...

"so- uh what's your name?" toji inquired..

meanwhile, "where the fuck is she?" shoko asked yuki, as she puffs out a cigarette smoke, "I don't know!"

[peaxhygirl]

𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾 𝙰𝚁𝙴����𝙰𝚂 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 - 𝙼𝙰𝙼𝙰 𝙸'𝙼 𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰 𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻

: ̗̀➛𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙾𝙲

: ̗̀➛𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Inspired by Britney Spears x Criminal

: ̗̀➛𝙰𝙽: This is done in a universe where Armando is a teenager, the female reader is also a teenager. There is no adult/minor play in the passage and I do not write that.

Sixteen-year-old Yara was a good girl, never broke the rules, never back talked her parents, and was a straight A student. President of the Debate team, captain of the cheer team, and on student counsel, she was every parent's wet dream. That was until she met Seventeen-year-old Armando Aretas. A guy she kept away from to the best of her ability, but he always seemed to be around. Now, he was in her veins and well, it caused for a rather contentious environment in her home.

"Yara, have you still been seeing that boy?" The booming voice of her father cut through the silence of her room right along with the slamming open of her bedroom door. Grateful that she'd even gotten her door back after having it taken away for a month, she decided to play it cool. "No." Her eyes remaining trained to her phone screen, voice monotone and lacking it's usual emotion. "Well then why the hell is he outside my house?"

Yara's deep black curls bounced as her head swung towards her window. Her body basically moved on autopilot as she went over to her bedroom window. Her heart thumbed so intensely that she felt it in her throat, her ears rung, and her body trembled a bit as she stared at him out the window. There he was, stationed on his shiny black motorcycle that she was still somewhat terrified of. Even in the dark of the night it still shined. He removed his helmet, their eyes locked and it hit her that she'd given up probably the most intense love she'd experience all because her parent didn't like him.

All because of who his family was. The Aretas' weren't known for being the most law abiding, safe and friendly people. They had a strong hold on the drug market in Mexico and it was well known that they didn't care who knew this about them. They operated off the fear that forced people to respect them. Something thar kept her away, but God he pulled her in.

"Yara, don't even think about it." Her father was firm as she spun around. Her brown eyes darted across the room, looking for the best way to get out. "Young lady, you will not be associated with that criminal!" "God, will you just shut up! I stayed away from him; I did what you said. I let him go for you and look how you're treating me!"

For the moment, her father froze in pure shock. It was the first time he'd ever even heard her raise her voice, let alone at him. What kind of influence was this boy having on his perfect daughter. He didn't have much longer to think, because Yara went bolting out her bedroom door heading for the steps.

On the way down, Yara caught a glimpse of her mother, a look of worry and dismay present on the face idetical to her own.

"Yara, honey. Please, this isn't you. It's him its-- that influence." She pleaded running down the steps behind her daughter. This caused Yara to roar in frustration.

"It's not him!! It's you. You guys want me to be this perfect kid that I'm not! I have issues just like everyone else, but you guys don't even give me the space to express them and learn-- I don't have the space to be myself. With him..I do." The knot that formed in her throat was filled with the frustration she'd felt since childhood. The pressure put on her was incomprehensible. "With him, I can be me. I don't have to pretend that I'm ok and I can be flawed. I'm finally allowed the space to-- to just fucking relax!"

"Yarina." Her parents resorted to her full name. "You better watch yourself young lady. Like we said, you will not be associated with that thug." Her wide eyes gazed over her parents. She loved them dearly, but she couldn't continue like this. "Yara, please." Her mother's voice was much softer in comparison to her father as she stepped forward to take her hand, being immediately met with Yara moving backward.

"I'm sorry, but I'm in love with him." She offered one final apology before she quickly turned to exit the home. She wore nothing but pajamas, no shoes, socks, or even a sweater to keep her warm. "Yari." The teenage male rasped as his girlfriend approached.

"Where's your clothes?" His brows furrowed, hopping off his bike to remove his hoodie and pull it over her body. He glanced past her, seeing her parents standing in the doorway. "Let's go." He murmured, handing her his helmet. She knew he'd argue with her about her needing it more than him, so she put it on. Climbing on his bike behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

She didn't know what would happen with her parents, but she knew it wasn't her concern for the moment as he pulled off and she opted not to look back.

[keravnous]

desperado! ; tangerine/fem!reader (smut 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 3 here | read pt. 4 here

The Twins are laying low in Amsterdam. Growing bored of being stuck in the hideout all day, Tangerine decides to explore what the shifty parts of the city have to offer at night.

word count: 12,9k

warnings: i mean if atj can dance then tangerine can too, tango dancing bc it's very sexy and steamy ok; car sex, head while driving, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female), fingering, rough and passionate sex, undernegotiated kinks: (light) spanking, daddy kink (once or twice), unprotected sex, choking, pet names, dirty talk, name calling, hotel sex; they steal a car bc why not, short intro from tangerine's pov, small glimpses into his dysfunctionality, rather slow story development at the beginning, i still have very strong feelings about this angry man so please, have this

title is from the song of the same name, desperado by rihanna

the songs they're dancing to are esta noche en vivo by carlos libedinsky and otra luna by narcotango

mel said: kinda sad we didnt get to suck his dick in bathroom b!tch and I said: same

The air is still warm and a little humid despite the late hour, filled with laughter and the sweet, sweet smell of alcohol and marihuana, sweat and summer. Tangerine takes another drag from his cigarette, watches how the smoke curls into the dark sky, illuminated by the colourful lights of the city. He takes a deep breath.

He sighs, relishes in the way his shoulders relax. He feels alive -- again; finally. It's a real relief, has his limbs going a little slack. He had felt anger clawing at his chest for the past week now, the beast inside ripping his skin to shreds and lashing out with its razor-sharp claws - mostly at his brother. But since he had left the flat about an hour ago it has been curled up rather peacefully in his chest, with a satisfied purr in sync with his heartbeat.

Next to him, the water in the canals lays calmly, reflecting the city's lights and echoing the clinking of glasses and music that wafts through the streets. Tangerine passes by a restaurant, people sitting outside under string lights, drinking, chatting, eating and he watches them as he strolls by. They radiate happiness and it catches onto him like a wave, has him smiling at the sight. He takes another drag of his cigarette, enjoys the way the smoke burns in his throat. Jesus Christ, how he had missed this.

There just aren't enough books, good books, that can keep him holed up in a small flat for a whole fucking month. And thus, he had decided to break - well, bend - the rules a little tonight.

Their contact, Henk, had told him about that one spot where one could get anything: from alcohol to various drugs and weapons, maybe even a hitman. If one's lucky. And Tangerine does feel a whole lot of fucking luck pumping through his veins tonight, making him feel a little light-headed, stardust at the heels of his shoes.

His chest feels light and his feet are practically flying over the cobblestones, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth as he lays his head back, watches the illuminated sky above - exhales smoke, inhales the night.

A group of students staggers by, laughing and cheering, passing a bottle of liquor around. His gaze follows them, nostalgia tearing at his heartstrings as he remembers the times when Lemon and him were just that - young and without a care in the world.

Now, their hands are sticky with blood - metaphorically, he had washed his well and thoroughly after last month's job went wrong - and they are both in hiding. Again.

Lemon insisted it would be careless to go out at night, at any time of the day really - "That's bollocks, mate. You can't just go out, can ya? What if they sent someone after us?" -, but especially if it was just to have some fun. Because fuck fun, right?

But, there is nothing else to do anyways, with the way his brain always, always finds a way back to his own recent failure and how it was linked to Bolivia.

Bolivia -- it still leaves him sleepless and shaking sometimes, just like tonight.

Tangerine had been pacing the living room craving a drink until Lemon fell asleep, and then decided that he needed a change of scenery, something to take his mind of the carnage and its debris.

"Yeah, let's just all go fuckin' insane in that flat, huh", Tangerine huffs to himself, looking at his phone. It beeps, signalling him that he is getting closer to his destination. His feet carry him through the streets of Amsterdam, a warm summer breeze rustles his silk shirt and cools his warm skin as he passes by restaurants, bars and closed book and flower shops.

Eventually, he comes to a halt in front of a launderette: Wassen bij Muriel.

The neon lights inside are on, illuminating the sidewalk in a cold white. He blinks. There is no one inside but an old lady behind the counter and a grimly looking man sitting on a plastic stool in the back corner. He can hear faint music coming from behind the glass door.

To an unsuspecting tourist it would look like a rancid shop but to him, it doesn't. Tangerine knows better, has been to a lot of places like this.

"Alright", he says - lets his neck crack once, twice and throws his cigarette away - before pushing the door open, the bell above ringing.

***

You watch your friend leaning down towards the young woman, sitting in a darkened corner. Your father never wanted you to befriend any of his third or fourth row dealers but you never were one to follow rules, always going for the next thrill, the next rush of adrenaline. But tonight, there's been no rush so far, no tingling of your veins - just pure and blank boredom.

You had picked out your favourite dress in the prospect of being offered to dance with a handsome stranger, even ditched on the underwear to make sure the thin fabric hugged your curves nicely, but the men in here are mostly uninteresting, ordinary - simple dealers or lowlife thugs, street criminals that steal money from unwary tourists.

You watch how your friend, with a quick sleight of hand, exchanges cocaine for money, laughing at the woman like she is an old friend and then makes his way back to the bar. He winks at you and squeezes past a young couple, orders himself a drink.

You swirl your glass between your fingers, watching the remaining puddle of wine running up and down its walls - dripping down like blood - and then bring it up to your lips, emptying it in one sip. The taste is warm and full, rich and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the strumming of the band's contrabass and the red wine on your tongue. It reminds you of that one time in Bogotá, when you and your father had visited his suppliers - wine and music melting together with the summer heat, having you dream of the jungle, old villages, and the beaches of private islands off the coast.

Your father had dragged you along once more, this time to Amsterdam, despite your pleas not to - "You will have to take over one day and I want you to be prepared" - and you were gladly sneaking away when your friend invited you to spend the night at his favourite bar.

It is a tango joint and a beautiful place, an old basement with low ceilings and a small bar, people and furniture bathed in colourful neon lights. Purple and red are dancing across faces and sweaty bodies - swirling over the dance floor or pressed against the cold walls, tongues shoved into mouths - reflecting off glasses and expensive jewellery.

It is a place where people like you and your friends get together: the upcoming generation of an international crime elite, sons and daughters throwing away their parents’ blood or drug money, getting high and drunk hidden by the shadows of the night, staying awake until the sun rises again. It's a place where people like you mix and mingle with those working for your families, a welcome change to a certain hierarchy at something a civilian would naively call a safe space.

You open your eyes again, as the band starts to play a new song, blinking while your eyes adjust to the dim, colourful lights. There still are couples swirling across the dance floor to the sensual rhythm of the tango, that the small band in the back is playing. You let out a sigh at both, the loneliness and the boredom creeping in on you, and turn around on your barstool to order yourself another drink as --

Your shoulder suddenly connects heavily with something firm and warm - triggering a muttered Fuckin' hell - and a second later the man, who you just bumped into, turns around. He looks pissed, left eye twitching.

"'M sorry", you say quickly, a little taken aback by both: his anger and his beauty. The former doesn't seem to last very long, with his lips tilting up a little, eyes gleaming mischievously while they dance over your frame.

"Apology accepted, love", he has a strong northern British accent, like some of your father's business partners do.

But he is arguably a lot more handsome than any of them are. Dark, combed, and slicked back hair that curls right over his shoulders building a nice contrast to his light blue, short-sleeved silk shirt, unbuttoned down to his belly - exposing golden jewellery. The necklace shines warmly against his pale skin, glimmering purple in the dim lights.

It might be the alcohol and the loneliness but you really, really want to just dart one hand out, run it over his chest and his neck, feeling his warmth and the few locks of chest hair, smelling and tasting the scent of summer on his skin.

You wonder what he does, what his profession is. The 70s porn-stache, vintage Rolex and golden rings scream Miami and you can't help but imagine him in the hot sun, bare chested, blood on his hands - red red red - cutting open bricks of cocaine -

"May I get you a drink, love?", his voice pulls you out of your daydreams and you blink. He must've caught you staring.

You know, that men like him usually mean trouble. And yet, you can hear yourself say: "That'd be very nice, thank you."

He lifts two fingers up, signalling the man behind the bar that he wants to order something and you notice that his knuckles are bruised. Blue and green mixing with the red of the scab, partially healed. There are scars on his forearm, meandering between his tattoos and up up up his arm below the soft, expensive silk of his shirt.

The goosebumps that erupt on your skin are nothing but pleasant as you immediately know what type of man he is. Everyone in here is on the market for something: drugs, love, sex, guns - but rarely does one sell murder. Real, cold-blooded murder. Ruthless, fast, dirty.

He's trying to hide it but watching him as he discusses the menu with the bartender, it sticks out like a sore thumb: the well-mannered gestures crash with his fucked-up hands, the way he's dressed like a drug-selling pimp refuses to fit in with his sugar-coated talk and the way he moves can't hide a lingering anger, like a raging beast pacing in a cage.

It is a carefully put together façade, but it's no use against you. You know men like him and you know them well. They don't scare you - quite the opposite, and thus the pure and utter danger he emits has excitement tingling in your stomach. As fucked up as it is: it makes you want him - adrenaline kicking in, shooting a tingle right between your legs.

He turns around again and you lean forward a little, deciding to make your move soon.

"'S a Mezcal Margarita alright with you, love?", he asks and you throw him your most charming smile, nodding.

"We'll take two then, mate", he nods and slides a few bucks over the counter, watches the bartender pouring liquid into a cocktail tumbler.

"Sooo", the man turns around towards you and grins, shows some teeth as his hand vanishes in the pocket of his linen trousers, pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He's taking a looong deliberate drag, puffing out the smoke, "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Y/N", you reply, gaze dropping to his lips and back up, where his gaze catches yours. He has beautiful eyes, blue like the fucking sea and the purple neon lights make them glow with mischief and smugness - dark and oddly promising, inviting - framed by long lashes.

One of your fingers brushes over his hand, that is resting on the counter. The wooden surface is sticky with half-dried alcohol. His gaze holds yours while he takes another drag of his cigarette. You just might lose yourself in the hue that dances over his eyes.

"And you are?", you say, just loud enough to be audible over the music.

His gaze drops to your fingers that are brushing over his golden rings and he chuckles: "Don't ya try stealing those, sugar, I know that fuckin' trick", and you smile innocently, as he leans in a little, "Name's Tangerine, love." There are cheers erupting from the dancefloor, the rhythm of the music picking up.

You pout playfully and his eyes dance over your face, glimmering mischievously. "Oh", you sigh, "And here I was, thinking you'd may even give me your real name."

"Can't, love, m'sorry."

"Mh pity -- who did you kill?"

"Who said I killed someone?", he's dangerously close now, voice a low rumble.

"Your hands", your fingers dance over the crust of his knuckles and his eyes gleam. For a moment he says nothing and then, towering over your sitting form, voice low and rough:

"Aren't ya afraid o'me, love?"

"Terribly", and he grins at that, his eyes holding yours captive.

"Bet you are", Tangerine hums, barely audible and sticks his cigarette between his lips, one hand darting up, has his thumb gently grazing over your chin.

The touch is nice, soft and gentle but firm, in full control. It makes your chest tingle, sends a wave of pleasure through your body. His eyes flick over your face and you find yourself growing a little hot under his gaze. You wonder is he's going to lean in, ditch his cigarette and --

The bartender places two glasses in front of you and it makes you snap out of it for a second, noticing how close Tangerine got. His thighs are touching your knees and his face is so so close to yours, noses mere inches apart.

"Thanks, mate", Tangerine says, pulls the glasses closer. You watch him - slender fingers getting a little wet with condensed water, cigarette between his lips, chain and bracelet rustling with the sudden movement. There's a thin film of sweat glistening on his chest and it has your thighs clench with raw and utter want, wanting to put your lips onto the firm the muscles, licking his skin clean.

The way his body still presses against your knees, is electrifying and you decide to invite him in more. You let your knees fall apart, making way for him. His gaze drops down and he chuckles to himself but moves in nonetheless, one of his hands gently coming to a rest on your thigh, holding you close and in place. The touch shoves the soft, flowy silk of your cowl dress aside, the slit in the fabric exposing your thigh. Tangerine's hand is warm on your skin, rings pressing cooly against your hot flesh, as he starts groping you - thumb digging into your thigh and you gasp quietly.

"Been wantin' to ask -- what's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this, huh?", he says, cigarette bobbing up and down in the corner of his mouth.

"My friend sells blow here", you say truthfully - not a full lie and yet not the complete truth, but you know better than to trust a stranger with your ties to your family's business - and piqued interest flickers through his gaze.

Tangerine then, very languidly, takes another looong drag from his cigarette and taps some of the ash on the counter, holding your gaze with his own. "D'you sell yourself, love?"

You laugh at that, violently shaking your head. "Hell, no."

He chuckles, eyes roaming over your face. "Well, looks like I got myself a good girl, then eh?", he knows what he is doing, voice low and deep and you swallow.

"I wouldn't say so", you whisper, "But why don't you come a bit closer and find out?"

Tangerine flashes a grin, shows his bright bright teeth, one of his hands coming up and stroking his moustache while he shakes his head in disbelief.

It's stupid. Very fucking stupid. He shouldn't. He should get the fuck out of here - quickly. This is dangerous. She might be, too.

Instead, he looks up again. Ah, fuck it - fuck the rules. Lemon will get it - maybe. Ultimately, he will, simply has to - with the beast inside rattling the cage.

Tangerine leans in, his hand on your thigh sneaking up, making its way over your hip, your side and then cups your body, thumb digging into your flesh underneath your tit. Your heartbeat picks up as he pulls you close and you nearly yelp, scooting forward on the barstool, your hand coming up and grasping his forearm, holding on to him. "Well, why don't we fuckin' drink to that then, love?", he rasps, the hand resting on the bar pulls your glass in.

With a shaking hand you take it, fingers closing in around the cool glass and you watch him raising his, bud of cigarette nearly touching it. He is exhilarating, demanding and firm underneath the attire of a gentleman and it has your head swimming, wetness pooling between your legs. Excitement bubbles up in your chest, wondering where the night may, will lead.

"Cheers, love", Tangerine smirks and winks at you, both your glasses clink. He is still so so close, your knees still hitting his hips and his tongue runs over the edge, licks the salt away slowly, playfully until he downs half the Margarita in one go, like it's water.

You raise one brow, carefully taking a sip. The salt on the edge of the glass tingles on your lips and the liquor burns nicely in your throat as you take another. It's a hellishly strong cocktail and you wonder if he's a regular drinker. A lot of people like him - call them what you like, assassins, killers, hitmen - are.

Tangerine eyes the glass in his hand, weighs it from left to right a little, then nods to himself in approval while you take another sip. He instead downs the other half of the cocktail and puts the glass back on the counter. It's a quick, routinely movement and you come to realize that you may be right. You decide to not give it too much thought, because he's hot and he freed you from the boredom threatening to swallow you whole tonight and because everything about him has your blood singing with the gleeful promise of adrenaline. You put your glass next to his and look up at him through your lashes. He catches the invitation.

Tangerine throws his cigarette into his empty glass and then leans in again. The tip of his nose brushing over yours, the sensual music entangling both of you as his gaze flicks over your face.

You hook one leg around his waist and he moves in closer, pressing yourself against him, one hand on his arm - to anyone looking over you might even seem like an actual couple, enjoying the night out - and hunger burns in his eyes. His lips brush over yours and you know he's toying with you, keen on him leaning in to fucking kiss you already --

The music stops.

There's sudden silence as the band passes a bottle of whiskey around and the two of you freeze, blinking dumbfoundedly. The silence is odd, stalling both of you but you can't help it, feeling like drowning in the dark dark blue of his eyes, shimmering with green in the purple light. You can hear Tangerine breathe quietly with him being so utterly close to you and it's nice, comfortingly human and you can't help but smile against his lips still hovering over yours, a gentle gesture that is being reciprocated by him.

You're a little dizzy with it too, the alcohol, lack of fresh air and his body warmth mixing together, making you a little unsteady. He has pure and raw want tingling in your belly, your hand on his upper arm clenching around the firm muscles a little, thumb brushing over the soft material. And then, just as the music picks up again, his lips brush against yours: "You don't happen to wanna dance, do ya, love?"

"Fuck yes, thought you'd never ask", and Tangerine laughs, a deep, pleasant sound that rumbles in his chest and offers you his hand.

Yours runs down down down his arm and closes around his, while he's making some room for you to slip off of the barstool and then he's pulling you close again - your body pressing smack against his side as he's dragging you along to the makeshift dance floor.

The crowd still cheers, applauds the band and the bandoneon plays the few first chords of a new song. Tangerine gently takes your hand in his, thumb cupping your index and middle finger as your palm rests against his. His other hand sneaks around your waist and rests and the small of your back, holding you close. He looks at you and you feel like drowning in his eyes, pupils blown wide and you wonder when he'll show first signs of being drunk, with the way you already feel a little warm, light-headed. In a few minutes, maybe an hour you'll learn that he holds his liquor way better than you hold your own.

He is even closer to you now than before at the bar and now you can smell his perfume through the thick cloud of smoke that wavers through the basement's air - he smells nice, deep and rich of citrus and a little of vanilla and cigarettes, reminds you of the summer you've spent in Palermo once.

Tangerine gently places one hand below your shoulder and yours comes up, rests on his shoulder, just as he starts to move to the music. He takes a step backwards, guiding your forward and gently guides you through the crowd - a steady back and forth in rhythm with the tango.

Tangerine's hand still holds yours, guides your arm until it is stretched out and then it abandons your hand, runs down down down your arm very gently, pads of his fingers brushing over your soft skin, hairs on your arms rising. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers cradle back between yours, a smile tugging at his lips.

One of his legs pushes between yours while he manoeuvres you backwards, hand on your waist holding you close. Tangerine presses himself against you, heat radiating off of his body with both your arms still stretched out and you grip his hand tightly, leaning back. You arch your back, raising one leg and hooking it around his waist as his gaze locks with yours. You can feel his crotch pressing against yours, with the way the skirt of your dress hikes up your legs. He is warm and a little hard already, has the breath hitching in your throat and arousal igniting your loins.

Tangerine leans down a little, lips still curled up in smile and then pulls you up like you weigh nothing and you stretch your legs in a delicate, slight split as he twirls you around, your chest firmly resting against his.

His arm presses onto your back, holds you close until your feet touch the ground once more and he immediately guides you sideways with a few long and slow strides until he comes to a halt. One of your arms wraps around his shoulders as he holds you close and you stretch your leg out, your heel gliding forward over the concrete floor of the basement, stretching your leg out in front of you and then gently sliding it backwards into a deep lunge, your body following the movement. You lean back and Tangerine follows, leans down and towers over your body.

He holds you there for a moment, chest rising and falling, brows furrowed a little before he carefully helps you back up - immediately embracing your body once more.

The music speeds up and so does he while guiding you over the dancefloor, face close to yours with unbreaking eye contact as you swirl over the concrete.

At the next strum of the contrabass, you take a step back, arching your back. Very playfully you sway your hips, shoulders loosely following while one of hands rests on his forearm, the other lays in his hand, feet tapping the floor rhythmically with the movement of your hips.

You know that he has a perfect view of your body, your hard nipples being visible through the thin fabric of your dress. His gaze drops down, watches how the silk plays with your curves, eyes growing a little darker. You move in and Tangerine pulls you close, your hand intertwined with his resting on his chest and his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling. "No underwear, I reckon, love?", he hums, the fingers of his other hand brushing over your waist.

And you shake your head, whispering: "No, none", and it has his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, a low chuckle escaping his throat. "Fuck me", he breathes and holds you close while moving over the dancefloor, one hand gently but firmly resting on your ass cheek, hiking the hem of your dress up a little.

The touch ignites you and you press against him, leaning in, nose brushing over his jaw, eyelids fluttering. You are pressed against each other, movements slowing down and blooming into a languid sensuality in dance: long strides, toying with him a little - turning your head away, stretching your arm out, only for his hand to gently caress it - feet wrapping around his calf, leg pushing between his. Tangerine is patient with the little game you are playing, unerringly keeping the lead and you in your place.

You wonder if he fucks like he dances. It makes your skin going hot, imagination running wild and breath hitching.

The song ebbs and the crowd applauds and the two of you come to a halt as well, but not parting, not partaking in the celebration of the band. You are clawing to him, breath going fast and heavy and so does his, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His hand momentarily rejects your waist to brush through his hair and then returns. His touch is firm, a little rough and you sigh contently.

Some people are looking your way, intrigued by what got over the two of you, enticed by each other and oblivious to the surrounding world. It's a dangerous thing - letting your guard down, for both of you - but you couldn't care less.

Tangerine smirks down at you and licks his lips. "D'ya know what ya do to me, dove?", he says quietly and you know but you feel the same, and thus, your hand brushes over his shoulder to his neck and you nestle your bods against his.

You wonder if he can feel your raising heartbeat, smell the lust and the excitement spreading in your body. You look up at him, fingers burying themselves in his locks.

"Mhm - do you?", you reply just as quietly and Tangerine chuckles, eyes falling shut.

Your bodies stay like that, closely pressing against each other with the music picking back up. You gently rest your forehead on his temple, leaning onto him as he holds you close. You can't help it, you just want to fucking touch him and your hand runs over his shoulder to the front, gently moves up his throat and then cups his jaw, fingers brushing over the clean-shaven skin. It's soft and warm and you can feel, hear him take a deep breath.

Moving across the floor slowly, Tangerine's body turns into an anchor for your long, ardent strides; his strong arms holding you up during each turn, muscles twitching beneath your touch. He is so so close to you, so warm - each one of his steps lingering with desire and it washes over you like a wave, has the hairs on your body standing up.

You sink against him, falling into his embrace, arms clinging around his neck and his hand is pressed on your shoulder, the other remains in the air uselessly as he looks down in surprise, brows furrowed. He can see, feel your chest heaving, a quiet whimper escaping your mouth.

Then, his lips curl into a smug grin.

Tangerine carefully twirls you around, hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. Your back rests against his chest and you can feel the tip of his nose brushing through your hair as his hands move over your body - one resting on your belly, the other gently cupping you below your breast, feeling the way your heart races against your ribcage, and his touch sends shivers down your spine, has arousal shooting right between your legs. You remain this way for a few beats, the blood in your veins pumping with the rhythm of the music, feeling his strong frame pressing against you - his breath on your temple and his cologne wrapping you in. His body radiates warmth and you can feel his chest rising against your back, his hardening dick pressing against your ass.

Lust tingles in your stomach looking up at him and, at the next strum of the contrabass, you take his hand and twirl out of his embrace. Tangerine follows and pulls you back in and your hand crawls up his arm, another one resting on his neck. His gaze locks with yours as he leans down, tip of his nose brushing against yours.

The hands on your back keeps you close, a dark shadow resting over his eyes, turning them into a deep deep sea. He slowly guides you forward with two long strides and then firmly hooks one arm around you, lunges backward a little and you follow his movement, bending your leg and resting it against his groin. His hard cock presses against your thigh, and he leans in, lips brushing over yours before straightening both of you back up, heels of your shoes connecting firmly with the ground. Tangerine swirls you over the floor and manoeuvres you through the dancing couples, until he eventually, when the space arises, grabs your hips once more. You let yourself fall, upper body leaning back delicately, enthralled by his strength and the way he guides you through the dance, and he pulls you back up.

Your hand runs up his chest, fingers clawing at the silk as your gazes lock once more. You suck in a few breaths, his scent clouding up your mind, hand running higher and higher, thumb cupping his cheek and fingers resting in his hair behind his ear, earring pressing cooly against your skin.

His lips are slightly agape, eyes you up and down, while his hand presses you close. "Yeah, fuck, you wanna take this elsewhere, love?", he rasps and you nod, eyelids fluttering with the hidden promise.

All the while Tangerine navigates you through the crowd, he holds you close, blood pumping in your ears with the way the music makes your chest vibrate, his scent clouding up your mind - only him him him.

As soon as you are out on the street Tangerine is onto you again, pulls you close in the bright lights of the laundrette and kisses you like a starving man. His arms wrap around your waist, pressing you against him, tits flush against his chest, as his tongue licks into your mouth. Your hands run up his arms, one of them curling his neck and the other cupping his jaw. You can feel his hard dick through his linen slacks and it makes you hot all over, wetness pooling between your legs. You break the kiss, heaving against his lips.

"Fuck", Tangerine huffs, hand on your waist wandering down, cupping one of your ass cheeks. You mewl, eyelids fluttering. You're desperate to touch him, for him to fuck you.

"My hotel's nearby", you whisper and it sounds so fucking needy, "We could take the tram?"

"Yeah sure, lead the way", and you do, stealing another long and sloppy, hungry kiss from him and then he's pulling you close, holds you by his side as the two of you rush down the streets of Amsterdam - heels clicking, sweet nothings on the tip of your tongues. Some people turn their heads, voyeurism kicking in at the oddly hot couple with the air around them cracking with their energy, watching how the two of you rush by - the woman giggling and clearly a little drunk, hands roaming all over the man's chest, while he holds her close, thick British accent wrapping her in.

That is, until he stops dead in his tracks next to an alley on a rather empty street.

"Oi, wait a bloody minute, love -- would'ya look at that", Tangerine looks down an alleyway and you lean in closer, trying to get a look at what he's seeing, peaking over his shoulder on the tip of your toes. His hand is still resting on your waist, fingers splayed out.

"What?", there's nothing. Just cars parked beneath a warmly glowing streetlight in a dark alley.

"That", his finger darts out and points at a beige convertible.

"I -- that's a car?"

He looks a you, a little offended.

"That's not just a car, love. That's a 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille."

You blink, watching him while he eyes the vehicle, fingers brushing over his stache absent-mindedly.

"What are you thinking 'bout?", and it doesn't even take him a second to reply: "I wanna steal it."

Well, that's a surprise. "You wanna steal the car?"

"Yeah, I got this fuckin' thing -- 's kinda like compulsion, innit?"

You raise your eyebrows and he looks at you, lips curling up in an amused smile that's looks an awful lot like Sugar I can't change it, now can I? and before he can come up with something witty to go along with it, you say: "Yeah fuck, alright. Let's do it."

He laughs, eyes you up and down. "Ya naughty little girl, eh."

You can feel your skin growing hot, hand brushing over his forearm, leaning in a little. His eyes gleam. "Show me what you can do, babe", and he does, wraps one arm around your hips and strolls over to the car, carefully eyeing the alley.

The windows are rolled down and he grins. "That's an easy one, love, watch it", his hand brushes over your hip and the touch has goosebumps erupting on your arms, running down down your back and you nod - fuck yes, you'll watch.

Tangerine leans against the driver side's door and reaches inside through the rolled down window. You don't know what exactly he's doing but you can see the way his muscles work underneath the blue silk, as he grabs the handle and then, suddenly lifts the door a little out of its frame. The lock bursts, and for a second your muscles tense, body anticipating alarms going off and reading to flee.

Nothing happens; no sirens erupting - just the door swinging open lazily.

Apparently; obviously this is not his first time stealing a car. The thought of him just taking what he wants does something funny to your stomach.

You peak inside. It is an old-timer, with one large seating bench in the front, instead of two seats. Tangerine is holding the door open for you.

"After you, Lady", and he fucking winks at you.

Crawling onto the seats you make sure to make a little show out of it. You can feel his gaze roaming over your body as you bend down, until you eventually sit down in the middle of the front row seat. Tangerine sits down next to you and you immediately close the distance between the two of you, pulling one leg up, knee resting firmly on the soft beige leather and pressing against his thigh. The fabric of your dress hikes up, the slit exposing your leg up up up to your groin.

The sight distracts him for second, as you throw a look over your shoulder and out of the rear window, into the night. The alley still lays silent and deserted - but for how much longer? Tangerine watches you tensing up next to him.

"Easy, love, just a minute", he huffs and pulls an envelope out of his pocket, takes out a set of lockpicks.

"Oh, so you just carry that around with you?", you blurt out, blinking.

"Yeah", he says casually, bends down a little, trying to get a good look beneath the steering wheel.

If you were to be more of a thief and less of a drug lord's lazy daughter, you'd be able to identify his choice as a Lishi lockpick.

You watch him as he carefully sticks it into the keyhole of the ignition, slooowly starts to move the tool forward and feeling for the contact of the wafer. Quiet clicking sounds fill the humid air.

You can tell, that Tangerine is showing off a little, trying to impress you with speed and precision. He squints his eyes a little, brows furrowing and eyeing the small lock while carefully turning it clockwise.

It jams.

"Bastard", Tangerine curses underneath, pulls the reader of the lockpick back and carefully feels for the missing contact, tuuurns it --

The engine jolts alive, purrs lowly and the headlights snap on.

"There ya go", he mutters, "Piece 'o piss, eh?"

You snort at his vulgar cockney but you must agree - it did not take him more than two to three minutes, from breaking the lock to starting the engine. It shouldn't, but it does turn you on a little.

Tangerine is slamming the door shut and whips out his phone, handing it over to you. "Type in the address, love, would ya?"

You do and then quickly discard it into the cupholder - you want him and your fingertips tingle with it, wanting to touch him and being touched by him. The female voice - uncanny valley personified - of the google maps assistant pipes up and if you weren't so very fucking intoxicated by him you would laugh.

Instead, a fresh wave of desperate lust takes over you and your hands are onto him again in no time, one crawling up his arm, the other resting on his thigh and feeling his muscles work as he backs the Cadillac up. Tangerine chuckles, throws you a quick look before he is steering the car out of the alley.

You are aching for him to touch you, to be closer to you, hand tugging at his shirt a little while you lean in, nose brushing over the side of his throat.

"Jesus, love", he huffs, "Can't keep ya'self together, can ya?"

And you mewl, shake your head and then your lips are closing in around the exposed crook of his neck. Your tongue laps over the sweaty, hot skin, tasting him - his cologne mixing bitterly with his sweat and you hum, gently sucking at his soft skin.

"Fuckin' hell", Tangerine's right hand abandons the steering wheel, coming to a rest on your exposed thigh brushing over your skin. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, spurring you on, encouraging you. Your eyelids flutter as your tongue comes loose:

"Want me to suck your cock while driving?", you say, looking at him - the tips of your fingers are playfully brushing over his shoulder, silk of his shirt rustling under the feather-light touch.

He snorts, shakes his head a little with disbelief, before looking back at you. It seems to click.

"Bloody hell, you're serious, aren't ya?", and you blush a little. You can see the way his Adam’s apple bops as he swallows, eyes aimlessly darting over the road, considering.

The google maps assistant pipes up again, chirps out the directions and then falls silent again.

"Yeah, no, that's a very lovely idea", he rasps, and then: "C'mon love, get to it."

And you do, mouth watering at the same time your sight drops down to his linen slacks, the fabric wrapping around his muscular thighs nicely and pressing firmly to his crotch, exposing the outlines of his hard dick straining it.

Your hand wanders up his leg - feeling his muscles twitch as he hammers down the gas pedal, racing by the light switching from yellow to green - and then sour fingers close in around his cock. It is large and hot through the fabric and just feeling it has fresh arousal pooling between your legs, making you hum, before rubbing his bulge through his trousers. Tangerine's right hand leaves your thigh and comes to a rest on your neck, thumb rubbing over your warm skin and making way for you, giving you some space and encouraging you further.

It's a nice, somewhat patronizing touch that is pushing all the right buttons, has you quivering with excitement.

You make quick work of his slacks, pulling the zipper down - already bowing down a little, stretching your lower leg out on the seat behind you - until you open the fly up. There's a damp stain on his dark silk boxers and your mouth fucking waters, before you pull the hem down. His cock springs free lazily and your breath hitches.

Tangerine's cock is large, cut and a little curved, resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair - vein at the bottom pulsing and the tip already flushed, precum glistening in the low light of the passing street lamps.

You can't wait to suck it, taste it, feel it inside of you -- you are fucking hungry for it, spit pooling around your tongue and heart beating in your chest. Arching your back while bowing down between his lower body and the steering wheel, you put your lips onto his dick, kissing from the base to the top, his musky scent wrapping you in, clouding your mind. You can hear him hum, a nice and deep sound, and the city rushing by through the rolled down window.

Your tongue flicks over the head of his dick, lapping at the precum, circling it. The way he tastes - salt and musk - has your head swimming a little, wetness pooling between your legs.

It makes your brain go mushy, hazy and one of your hands brushes over his thigh, desperate to being closer tohim, to make it feel good for him, caressing the warm skin beneath your touch before you blink up at him.

"Fuck, you got a nice cock", you nearly moan as your tongue betrays your brain, impatiently opening your mouth and letting him slide in a little, feeling him pressing hard and hot against your tongue.

"Shit", Tangerine laughs roughly, hand grabbing your neck as his dick twitches against your tongue, "D'ya even hear yourself speak, girl? Fuck."

You smile to yourself, a little coy, and you start to move your hand up up up his muscular thigh, palming his balls through the linen and then grabbing the base of his cock, slowly jerking him. Tangerine groans, breathing loudly, the city passing by.

Spit runs down his dick over taking him in deeper, pools between your fingers and you flick your wrist, moving your hand in rhythm with your tongue.

The car comes to a halt at the next red light, as Tangerine hits the brakes carefully. Your eyelids flutter and then your gaze darts up, meets his while you are releasing his dick from your mouth a little.

Tangerine moans deeply as tongue swirling around the thick head of his dick once more, his gaze boring into yours. "Isn't that just a lovely sight", he groans, right hand brushing through your hair, while the left grabs the steering wheel hard.

Tangerine watches you, traffic light long forgotten, how your tongue licks over his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes. "You fuckin' minx -- ya do like behavin' like a slut, don't ya", and you smile against his cock, a quiet Uh-huh leaving your lips, before they close in around the tip of his dick.

His eyelids flutter as you start to suck, bobbing your head a little, tongue rubbing over the tip of his cock. "Fuckin' hell", he puffs his cheeks and throws his head back a little, exhales theatrically. The traffic light switches from yellow to green and you let him sink deeper into your mouth - the engine roars. You are certain he's close to breaking the speed limit, veins bursting with adrenaline and testosterone but you couldn't care less, the musky taste of his cock hazing your mind, lust taking over.

You feel yourself growing wet, cunt aching and you surrender to yourself, complying to your body's wishes, as one of your hands slooowly dips between your legs and underneath the hem of your dress. Your fingers brush up your thighs and over your slick folds, mentally thanking yourself for not putting any underwear on, mostly due to the unbearable heat and your skin-tight dress - but it sure does come in handy now, too. Your index finger flicks over your clit, just as his cock slides deeper into your mouth.

It feels fucking nice, the way Tangerine's dick is hard and heavy and hot on your tongue, his taste and scent engulfing you, the way you rub your clit has lust spreading through your body, moaning around his cock.

And then suddenly, Tangerine hits the breaks, hand hammering down on the horn. One of your hands darts out, barely catching onto the dashboard as you are thrown forward. Blood rushes in your ears, hastily sucking in a few breaths through your nose while you sputter around his cock.

The maps assistant chimes up in that second, reminding the driver that he will need to go right at the next intersection but --

"Ya fuckin' prick, imma fuckin' shoot ya in the fuckin' head ya stupid twat -", Tangerine yells and your head immediately pipes up, abandoning his dick and looking out of the windshield. Tangerine is just speeding up, passing by the car in front of him, angrily looking inside. "Ya dirty fuckin' chav, I got a right fuckin' lady with me 'ere, ya git", he spits and the man slowly turns his head. First, he looks at Tangerine, a cascade of insults flying his way and then he looks at you, smudged mascara and spit on your chin, your lips wet with it. You can see the wheels in his head turning, eyes growing wide as they drop down to one of your hands - the one that is still holding Tangerine's cock - vanishing between his legs. The man blinks and Tangerine flashes him the finger, before speeding by.

"Fuck about -- that fuckin' arsehole, love, could've killed ya drivin' like that", he grumbles, throws him one last look in the mirror, "Seriously, where did that prick get his license, the bloody fuckin' lottery?"

Tangerine's eye twitches and you can see his pulse speeding up, aorta pressing thickly against his neck, pumping. He is like a force of nature and a mental image of him, covered in bruises, blood and sweat flashes before your eyes - chest heaving and knuckles bruised, hair curling and framing his face like a halo, dripping with blood.

"You're so fuckin' hot when you're angry", you mumble and then you're bending down again, tongue licking over his cock, from the base all the way up the top, flicking around its head and then gliiiding back down.

A growl, a real fucking growl, leaves his chest, hand on your neck tightening. "You better get fuckin' back to it, love, Jesus fuckin' Christ", his voice is coarse and it gets you going, makes you wet wet wet and has your head diving back in, tongue lolling out of your mouth as his dick slides back in.

"Atta girl, fuck", he groans and then his hips jolt up, pushing his dick deep into your mouth and you hum around it. You start to bob your head up and down, meeting his thrusts - your hand abandons the dashboard to clutch his thigh, nails digging into the flesh a little.

Tangerine moans at both, your hot and wet mouth sucking him off and the slight pain that blooms in his thigh, dangerously mixing with the anger pulsing in his chest and he throws his head back.

"Just like that, fuckin' hell love", his hips buck, shoving himself deeper into your mouth. The sudden intrusion has you choking a little as he hits the back of your throat, spit gathering around the corners of your mouth while you sputter around his dick - jaw going slack and his hand finding its way into your hair, fisting it as he starts to fuck into your mouth.

Holding your head in place his cock hits the back of your throat, steals your breath. Your nose is buried in his pubes, inhaling his scent - sweat and musk - more saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, wetting his locks. You relax your throat and whimper around his dick, the way he uses you has fresh wetness spreading between your folds, squelching sounds filling the air as your finger is joined by a second, rubbing tight circles over your clit.

You moan around his cock, strangled noises escaping your throat while your rock back against your fingers, choking around the head of his cock hitting your throat.

"Shh, shh shh", he tuts, a little breathless, "Daddy's got ya, mh pretty girl? Lemme just--"

Tangerine's right hand lets go off your hair and then you can feel it sneak past your back, a feather-light touch brushing over the silk of your dress. It travels further and then grabs your ass, the sudden rough touch has you moaning around his dick once more. Your eyelids flutter as he pulls the fabric up up up, fists it and exposes you to whoever or whatever may rush past the passenger side's window. Your fingers speed up at the thought while his hand kneads the flesh of your cheeks.

"Fuckin' pretty", he hums, taking another quick look at the way your head bobs up and down his cock, "All over my cock like that, pretty fuckin' slut."

His hand wanders further down and before you can process it, one of his fingers circles your hole, feeling your slick and your plump folds. "Jesus Christ", he nearly groans, "You just love sucking cock, don't ya?"

That you do, whining around his base as the thick head of his dick hits the back of your throat again, with your fingers still working your clit. "Let me help you with that, love", and with that he pushes one finger in, up to his golden onyx ring, nestles it snugly between your hot walls. They clench around him and the sensation - the lingering promise of more - has you squirming a little.

Tangerine gives you what you want, need - finger curling a little, digits brushing over your spongy hot walls, before he slooowly pulls it back out. It circles your hole once more, quickly joined by a second, before he pushes them in again, starting to fuck you fast.

You moan, feet kicking a little and eyes tearing up at the sensation, with his dick pushing further into your throat and your fingers rubbing your clit, quickly has your muscles clench and cunt squirting.

"Yeah, just right 'ere, love, huh? Gettin'ya all loose 'n wet f'me? Such a good girl, aren't ya?", obscene sounds fill the air as he fucks your slick back into you, bottoms his fingers out, rubbing over the spot that has you seeing stars.

Tangerine moans deep in his chest as his cock starts to fuck into your mouth again and you let him use your throat gladly while his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, accompanied by the way your fingers flick over your clit rapidly.

The lack of fresh oxygen has you bucking against his hand, choking and sputtering around his cock that rams deeply in your throat but your stomach still flutters with it, lust igniting your loins and limbs tingling with it.

You can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, heart racing in your chest. Your fucking close and he seems to notice, too, his moans barely reaching your ears through the blood pumping and engine roaring. Tangerine nestles his fingers deep deep inside of you, rubbing over your walls and the spot that has you seeing stars, eyes falling shut and moaning against his cock.

It is all too much and your chest heaves as you finally cum, muscles clenching around his fingers, hips stuttering. His dick pulls back a little, tip resting hot and heavy against your tongue and then, his movements still.

"Open up your pretty mouth, doll, lemme see", he rasps, barely keeps an eye out to the street and you comply, fucked out mind making everything a little hazy, a little slow. Your jaw goes slack as you open your mouth, giving him a perfect view of his dick resting on your tongue.

Tangerine looks at you: mascara pooling beneath your eyes, lips swollen and red and jaw wet with spit and then comes too, shoots ropes of hot cum into your mouth. He watches the way it paints your tongue white, some of it landing on your upper lip, slooowly dripping down, running over your chin.

You swallow and then your tongue darts out, licks over your lips and then darts out, licks his cock clean, too.

Slowly, with your mind still foggy and limbs a little heavy already, you get back up. Your fingers brush through his remaining cum on your chin, wiping it away and letting them slip into your mouth, licking them clean. "Jesus, love", Tangerine's voice is a little coarse, gaze darting back and forth between your mouth and the street, as he carefully pulls his fingers out of you and your body closer instead.

You yelp, pressing yourself onto him, of your knees resting between his spread legs. None of you fucking care anymore, lust tugging at your brains dangerously, daringly. His hand, fingers still wet with your juices, brushes over your waist, grabs your ass and you lean in, lick over his throat, tasting his sweat and cologne.

"Can't wait for you to fuck me", you rasp, hands brushing over his chest, his necklace jingling, down down down, hand brushing over his cock and carefully putting it away, his clothing back in place.

Tangerine huffs, google assistant chiming out a direction, indicator clicking loudly as he sets it and then his hand comes up quickly, grabs your chin hard and holds your head in place. You look at him, deer in the headlights, holding your breath and then he's pulling you close, locks his lips with yours. He can taste himself on your tongue licking into your mouth, pulls you close.

You don't know how you made it to the fucking hotel alive, with Tangerine's hands roaming over your body, lips locking occasionally while he was speeding down the streets, cutting corners and red lights.

The two of you barely make it through the lobby and into the elevator, until Tangerine is onto you once more, presses your back flat against the cold, bronze metal. "I'll fuck ya so good, love", his dick is already hard again, pressing against you through the linen of his trousers and the satin of your dress, "'S gon' be all you'll be thinkin'bout for the next weeks." In a little more than an hour you will come to realize that he is right. You will be thinking about it for weeks. But now, there are only his lips roaming over your throat, occupying your mind and letting you drift back to a hazy, lustful state, with his hands feeling up your hips, your waist.

Eventually, the elevator piiings lazily and the two of you rush out it, like you are on the run from your own lust, hand clutching his as you quickly make your way down the hall to your suite. You unlock the door and turn the dimmed lights on inside. The room's just like you left it, guns and cash on the coffee table, soft light coming from the bedroom on the left. The window there is still opened, a soft breeze rolling in through the light curtains.

Tangerine throws the door shut behind himself and immediately grabs you by your waist, pulls you onto him, hand on your back on your ass as he leans down, devours you with a kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth while he manoeuvres you backwards through your suite. Your hands dart out, catching the doorframe of the bedroom and you grab it hard, using it as leverage as you push back against him, your crotch rubbing against his. Tangerine grins against your lips and grabs your hips hard, makes you moan into the kiss.

He breaks it, chest heaving a little. "Fuck, love, imma ruin ya." Your breath hitches at that and your hands let go of the doorframe, wrapping around his neck instead like you're on some sort of fucking autopilot. "Yeah fuck, please", you whisper.

It takes Tangerine a moment, gaze growing a little soft before the beast takes over again, a gleaming dark hue turning the blue into an endless ocean and he hoists you up, carries you over to the bed.

He is carrying you like a caveman would his bagged prey and he tears at your dress just the same, one hand shoving the straps down your shoulders. Then he's onto the zipper, sliiides it down and throws you onto the bed.

You land onto the duvet with a soft thud, tits bouncing a little and his gaze follows the movement hungrily, before he tugs at the hem of your dress, pulls it down and throws it to the ground carelessly.

Tangerine just watches, gaze hungrily moving over your naked form, slooowly starts to undress himself. His slender fingers unbutton the silky shirt, button by button in an agonizingly slow speed. You know he's deliberately taking his time with you and it works, has your body quivering with anticipation and lust, one of your own hands running up your body, cupping your tit. He lifts a brow as he watches you tweaking your nipple and the haughty disdain has your head swimming, legs falling apart. "Please", you whisper, pussy aching for his touch, "--Need you."

The silk falls open, still hugging his shoulder and Tangerine continues watching you, playing with a ring on his finger, just like he's playing with you. It's cruel but it has lust building up in your belly, shooting arousal down between your legs and making fresh wetness pool between your folds in a way that you just know, that his touch will be heavenly.

And yet, impatience taking over, you mewl and in a desperate attempt for any sort of attention - for him to just fucking touch you again - you scramble to your knees, stretching out on the mattress and pressing your body flat onto it, ass high in the air. You know that he'll see it: your wet cunt, glistening in the dim light, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You feel exposed and at his mercy alone, and the degradation and danger of being unarmed like this in the presence of a killer, has your heart racing, thighs rubbing together for any sort of fucking friction.

Tangerine bellows out a laugh, surprised and dark, can't really hide either how turned on he is, and then his hand comes down on your ass. The sound bounces off the walls and has your bods jolting forward, first a gasp and then a moan falling from your lips, hands fisting the sheets. "Ya dirty fuckin' whore", he groans, hand groping your already reddening flesh. You can hear the silk flowing down to the ground and then he is pressing his crotch against you, fine linen against your wet cunt.

It's electrifying, the rather rough material pressing against your soft skin, your slick immediately wetting the fabric as your start to roll your hips against it, rutting over his clothed dick. Tangerine's cock is so so hard, hotly pulsing through the linen and you can feel its curve pressing against your pussy. You whimper, hips stuttering.

"Jesus Christ, love, can feel ya through my fucking pants -- lemme see", Tangerine groans and then grabs your hips hard, stalling your desperate movement, shoving them forward a little. You can feel his gaze dancing over your cunt, hear him whistle lowly, hands spreading your ass cheeks, assessing your slick. One of them comes loose and then --

He gives your cunt a light slap - the slight pain and degradation making your head swim - has you squirming on the mattress, a whiny Daddy, please escaping your lips. Your mind fogs up, all hazy with lust and his perfume, aching your back for him, pressing your chest flat against the sheets.

Tangerine pouts at you, eyes gleaming playfully. "D'you wan'it that bad, love?", and you nod nod nod, wiggling your hips as you chant - a desperate Yes yes yes escaping your lips, muffled by the mattress - hands uselessly darting out for any leverage.

His middle finger runs through your folds and you tremble, goosebumps erupting on your arms, spreading all over your body. He spreads your slick and his other hand comes up, kneads the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks further apart. "Always fuckin' wet f'me, innit? Picture perfect cunt ya got, love."

You mewl, throwing a glance over your shoulder to see him watching your hole clench around nothing. His eyes gleam. "Shit", you huff out as his finger brushes over your clit, feet curling a little and he grins smugly - Bastard - and gives your ass another sharp slap. You groan and then his hands are off you, making work of his trousers.

You watch him get fully undressed and your mouth waters at the sight. Tangerine's body is covered in scars, smaller round ones from bullets and larger, longer ones from knives and nasty fist fights and you want to crawl to him on your knees, kiss and lick them, worship them and him - his body, his tool of death - like he's your very personal reincarnation of Ares.

His dick springs free as he drops his boxers, completely exposing his muscular body to you, dusted on body hair and tattoos and scars scars scars and in the moment, that you can see precum glistening on the tip of his cock, you realize that you had already missed it. You fucking missed his dick. The thought has warmth spreading on your cheeks.

There's a light pat on your hip. "C'mon love, turn around. Wanna see your face while I fuck you nice and proper", he hums and your eyelids flutter, humming deeply in your throat at the proposition, turning around and laying on your back.

The mattress dips as he sinks down on his knees, chest flushed a little - the golden necklace dangling between your bodies - and then he's onto you, crawls over your body like an animal, leaves sloppy kisses on your skin, tongue licking over your nipples, stache tickling.

"Oh fuck", you huff, hands darting out and finding his hair, gently tugging at it. Tangerine's lips move over your throat and he sucks, makingyou gasp, throwing your head back as he marks you up.

"Spread ya legs f'me, sweetie", he rasps against your jaw and you do, knees falling apart. He grabs his dick with one hand, the other one supporting his own weight next to your head, rubs himself along your folds, using your slick as lube. "There ya fuckin' go", he huffs and then the thick head of his cock presses against your hole.

"Fuck, yes", you whimper, hot with anticipation, one hand leaving his hair and clutching around his shoulder. And then, he finally - fucking finally - puuushes in, your hole stretching around his girth a little, dull pain spreading excitement across your body.

Tangerine groans. It's a low and honest sound, has his chest vibrating against yours while he looks down to where your bodies meet. "Shit, fuckin' hell", he says, hand abandoning his dick as he slowly slides into you, fills you up and spreads your walls, grabbing your inner thigh instead. The way he spreads your legs is delicious and you hum, his dick is completely seated inside of you.

He lifts his gaze once more, looks at you. His eyes are dark, a stormy stormy sea, a few loose strands falling into his face, curls of his hair freeing themselves from the hair gel. He looks like a fucking god. "Fuck", you say, lowly, hole fluttering around him, stomach tingling at the sight.

"Ya cunt's so fuckin' tight, love", he growls and you can hear, feel it on your skin, that he is having a hard time holding back, "'S perfect, Jesus Christ."

Tangerine rolls his hips, once, twice and you moan, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder. "'S good for ya, too, love?", his nose brushes over yours, lips ghosting over your cheek. "Yeah, fuck", you huff, and then he's onto you, licks over your lips with his tongue and shoves it into your mouth, invites himself in. You lick over it, lips locking with his, stealing the air from both of your lungs. It is a sloppy kiss charged with energy and lust, your hands tugging at his curls, making the thrusts of his dick more feral, as he forces himself in deeper, groaning into your mouth. In return you moan, chest heaving against his, tits rubbing over the muscular skin.

His lips brush over the corner of your mouth, breathes against it, stache tingling a little as they move down to your throat, kissing and nibbling at the skin, marking you up.

"Fuck", you gasp at the stinging sensation, pulling his hair and he groans.

It feels nice; the way he is fucking you - you push away the thought that it's dangerously close to actually making love - the way he feels inside of you, how his body feels against yours, but it's also not enough. You need more.

A whine escapes your mouth, all desperate and needy and breathless and his movements still for a second.

Then, Tangerine looks up at you, dark blue eyes meeting yours. "Tell me what you want", he whispers, hand groping your thigh and dick buried deep deep inside of you. You can feel it twitch inside of you and your breath hitches. "Want -- want you to fuck me", you say quietly, "Like - hard."

"Aint' ya just a fuckin' dream, poppet", he growls and then his lips are unto you once more, licking into your mouth, teeth catching your lower lip; licking and kissing your lips until their sore while picking up a faster rhythm, pounding into you.

Tangerine eventually breaks away from you, leaves you panting and straightens up until he's kneeling between your legs - rolls his hips into you with his dick fucking in and out your hole, accompanied by an obscene squelching sound. One of his hands grabs your thigh hard, rings digging into the flesh, and then he's hoisting it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder and you moan at both: how deep his cock now pushes into you and the way Tangerine looks.

A thin layer of sweat covers his cheeks and his upper body, chest and cheeks flushed, a few strands of hair falling into his face as his brows are furrowed, lips slightly parted. You can hear him breathe heavily, occasionally moaning when your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him. He looks like a fucking porn star, with his defined muscles working beneath the skin and the golden jewellery, a soft summer breeze rolling in through the opened window, toying with his hair. Tangerine's gaze is glued to his dick that rhythmically pumps in and out of you, watches the way your juices squelch around the base of his cock, balls slapping against your wet skin.

His free hand runs up your belly and cups one of your tits, squeezes it, rolls the nipple between his fingers - the bracelet around his wrist jingles and the rings are cold against your skin. You hum deeply, breath ragged and fingers clawing at the sheets desperate for any leverage, while his deep thrusts throw you back and forth like a fucking ragdoll, tits bouncing and gasps falling from your lips.

Your mouth falls agape, watching Tangerine through hooded eyes and dark lashes and his gaze crawls up up up your body until it meets yours. It is accompanied by his hand, ditching your tit, and brushing up your neck, cupping your jaw and then falling in the crook beneath it, pressing down. The sudden lack of air has the muscles in your legs tensing and he feels it, too, mischief illuminating his face, his eyes, as you gasp for air. You know he could kill you then and there, watch you as your lights fade out and as fucked up as it is, it has your rutting your hips against him, spurring him on.

Tangerine furrows his brows and picks up a quicker rhythm, hand closing in tighter around your throat, rings pressing down onto your windpipe, and you lay your head back, feeling the stretch as he's choking you. The lack of fresh oxygen has your chest heaving, body surrendering to him and the way his cock pumps into your hole fast and deep, lust igniting your nerves. Tangerine can feel you clenching around his dick, wetting his trimmed pubic hair as you squirt, slick dripping down his balls and staining the sheets below. The beast inside him roars, thrums against the bars of its cage, his ribs and he sees your eyelids fluttering, cheeks prettily reddened.

"Atta girl", he groans, fingers giving in a little and you suck in a few deep breaths, before he presses them back down again. It's too soon and your hands dart up, clutching in around his wrist, bracelet jostling and clinking under your touch.

The cage breaks.

Suddenly, quickly, with the force and speed of a predatory animal, Tangerine lets go off your throat and flicks his wrist, catches both of yours in an iron grip and pins them above your head, down onto the mattress. His body follows the stretch of yours, bending over you, holding his own weight up with a hand that crashes down next to your chest. He is feral and it should scare you, especially as air floods your system again, lifts your mind out of your foggy state just a little, but it just doesn't no fight or flight kicking in. The way Tangerine hovers over you now has your leg on his shoulder bend, too, allowing his dick to fuck into you deeper, delicate pain from the stretch of your back igniting your loins.

Ragged breaths escape his throat while he pounds, ruts into you and you lose yourself in both, the sound of his utter pleasure and the way your body feels: on fire, chest tight with your approaching orgasm and raw lust, pure want, that chews up the ends of your nerves, has your limbs tingling.

Tangerine's hand keeps your wrists in that iron grip of his as he rolls his hips into you, dick hitting your cervix, his fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists. You throw your head back, gasping with each of his thrusts and his eyes follow your movement hungrily, groans as your eyes roll back. There's a strong pull in your abdomen and your hole flutters around his cock, his balls slap against your wet skin.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you whine, high pitched moans falling from your hips as he ruts into you, "I'm gonna cum, oh shit --"

Tangerine's eyes fall shut, a throaty moan erupting deep from his chest when your muscles tighten around him. "Yeah, shit love -- that's it, fuckin' cum f'me", he rasps, forehead coming down to a rest on your shoulder.

And you do after a few more of his deep thrusts, whining and legs kicking a little, shakes erupting in your chest as you press against him. Everything goes white as you ride your orgasm out on his dick, moaning and gasping as he does, too, shoots thick and hot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls and pulsing deep inside of you.

Tangerine moans, coarse and raw and his chest heaves, presses his nose into the crook of your neck - but you barely notice it, too far gone, mouth agape and legs shaking.

It takes you a while to come down again, eyelids fluttering open lazily. There's a hand on your cheek, a deep hum near your ear. "Welcome back, love", Tangerine says quietly and then, "Ya did so good for me, eh?" You mewl, stretching your legs a little. Your whole body feels sore, his cum leaking out of you and into the sheets. All you want to so is to get up and clean yourself up, but your legs are so so heavy and you just feel so so tired. Tangerine seems to notice, too.

"You stay here, darlin', imma get you something to clean you up", Tangerine says, voice coarse but soft and he gets up, just as a fresh breeze rolls in through the curtains, blows them up and sends them flying a little. The forecast prognosed heavy rainfall for next week. The air already smells like it a little - damp and mushy.

The breeze cools your sweaty skin, has you sighing with content while you watch Tangerine's naked form as he is walking to your bathroom, muscles in his legs and butt working nicely with each step.

***

It has been over a week and this is his third night. It starts to feel like a fucking stake out.

He feels incredibly silly. Silly for coming here again. Silly for lying to Lemon - again. Silly for ordering two Margaritas. Silly for drinking both.

Tangerine leans against the bar, elbows planted firmly on the sticky wood, smoking a cigarette. The band, same musicians, play a soft and melancholic tango. The air had cooled down a little after yesterday’s rain and maybe, just maybe, that'll be the summer's first soft goodbye before it will go down in a last great huzzah with a hot Indian summer before autumn takes over the city.

He wonders if he will still be in Amsterdam by then, if he and Lemon will watch the leaves fall. There is an offer for a job in Japan and he is considering to take it. He'll have to talk to Lemon about it.

"Anything else for you, Sir?", the bartender asks. And Tangerine nods, orders another Margarita. The bartender takes the empty glasses away and he stares at the wood. Oh, he's just so bloody fucking silly, isn't he?

He takes another drag from his cigarette, shifts his weight from one foot to another and rubs his eyes. She won't come. He knows.

She just won't. Tangerine did have a suspicion who she was, has heard stories about her father and he knew, as soon as he had laid eyes on her, that he was in big, big trouble. He wonders if he had already taken her away, wanting better for his daughter than a no-good ordinary killer. Did not want the danger in his life that came with a man, who potentially could be holding his daughter for ransom at some point or worse, could get her killed.

He gets it, though. He would probably do just the same.

"There you go, Sir", the bartender says and Tangerine just nods, suddenly feels very very exhausted and just barely notices that something, someone is moving next to him.

"Can you still afford to buy me one, too?", a familiar voice says, "Or did you burn it all on car insurance?" He chuckles, feels a sudden burst of energy surging through his veins, straightens back up and slowly turns around to her.

"Wasn't my fault, 'prick was driving like a fuckin' loony."

She chuckles and the noise makes his head swim, a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach. He wants to tear his chest open and claw at it, rip it out. That is how much it fucking scares him. How much she scares him.

"Wasn't sure if you were coming back", she says, casually, calmly like she thought about it so much she's just used to it by now.

"I'm not leavin' that soon, love", he says, signals the bartender that another Margarita is in order.

"Where you going?"

"Tokyo, love. Probably -- most likely."

"Come back in one piece then", her smile is genuine. And he knows, that he just has to now.

[hauntedparadisebandana]

More Desmond hcs cause I love him so much.

Desmond is the type of person to sleep everywhere but where he's supposed to. The others can't figure out if it's because of the bleeding effect and his episodes or if he's genuinely sleeping in weird places. They had an idea to lock his room door at night, but they didn't want to treat him like an asylum patient. There's been a few instances where Shaun has walked into the kitchen and has found des sleeping on the counter or even inside the cabinets.

"Hmmm, I'm in a chamomile mood today," mumbles Shaun as he walks into the kitchen yawning.

He fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove. He lazily leans against the counter and waits, trying not to fall asleep. Then, a muffled voice fills his ears.

"You making tea? I want some too, please."

Shaun's eyes shoot open like he's seen Jesus himself. He stands up straight and frantically looks around.

"Christ, I'm hearing voices... I should've done the evaluation." He runs a hand down his face, rethinking his life choices.

"Nope, no ghost. Just your good pal Desmond." At this, Shaun is confused. Where is his voice coming from? He then gets the bright idea to look inside the cabinets, the only place Desmond could hide. Crouching down his opens up a door, and lo and behold, desmond is in there.

"Why on earth are you in the cabinets desmond?" Shaun says with an exasperated sigh.

"I'm actually not sure, I just woke up in here. Ugh my back hurts."

"Well, yeah, you fell asleep crammed inside a cabinet."

"About that tea, though, I want some."

"Oh- uh yeah, sure, tea for you too." He closes the cabinet door, "Wait!" The door opens again, "what is it, Desmond?" "Can you add honey to mine, please? " "Yes, you can have honey."

The same goes for rebecca and Lucy. Rebecca remembers the last time she tried to go to bed peacefully, she didn't.

Rebecca yawns and turns over, eyes still closed. She's feels something is off, it's warmer than usual, way warmer, and her bed feels...heavier? She opens her eyes, coming face to face with Desmond. All snuggled up under her sheets, leg thrown over hers, staring like this was an everyday occurrence.

"Jiminy Christmas! Fuck Desmond! what the hell are you doing in my bed?!" Rebecca whisper yells.

"Your bed so warm, you mind if I sleep here? I think my heater is broken in my room."

Rebecca sighs out loud,

"Did you make sure it was plugged in? Cause you did that last time des."

Desmond thinks back to his heater. Now that he thinks about it, it probably wasn't plugged into the wall. But who cares? He's warm now.

"Probably not, but it's too late. I'm already lying down."

"Ughhhhhh, fine, you can stay. Just don't hog the blanket, and don't kick me."

"Ok ok I won't. Goodnight becca."

"Night des."

FYI, Rebecca got kicked at least 3 times that night.

Lucy has had her share of being scared shitless by Desmond, too, in her room as well.

Lucy sits up and stretches, just waking up. Checking her clock, she sees its 5am, no use in going back to sleep now.

"I could really start the grocery list today. The fridge is pretty empty -" she freezes, holding back a yell with her eyes wide as she stares straight into the corner at her hanging chair. Something tall, resembling a person is in it, its way to dark in her room to see.

She shudders, reaching for her bed side lamp she flicks it on in a hurry.

"Oh what the hell."

There sits Desmond, sitting inside Lucy's chair with a blanket draped over him, he even brought his own pillow. Yet he's so tall. He looks a bit uncomfortable.

She stands up and walks over to Desmond, patting his shoulder.

"Des wake up, you can sleep in my bed."

"Hmmmm?" He groans, not fully awake yet.

"You can sleep in my bed. You look uncomfortable over here."

"Hm, thanks," Desmond goes to stand, "Ugh, wait, headache."

"From the bleeds?" "No, stood up too fast."

Lucy grabs Desmond by the arm and leads him to the bed. "Sleep now, I know you barely get any as it is." She expects a rebuttal but is surprised when he is fast asleep again, and this time, he looks comfortable. She leaves him there, making her way into the living room where Rebecca and Shaun are watching whatever is good on TV.

"Shaun, Becca, we need to get this Desmond sleeping situation under control."

"Agreed"

"Agreed"

[vxmpyree]

Not to be that person (I am that person) BUT LIKE the anxious attachment! reader x avoidant attachment! nikto FUCKING BROKE ME OKAYYYY. Pt....2???......maybe.....doesnt have to have a happy ending if you dont picture it that way, but it left me bawling on the floor ok

yayaya!! ill give them a little happy (?) ending ^-^ maybe not super fulfilling, but its a start for them

[no. 1 party anthem - arctic monkeys]

[P. 1 ▶ P. 2] anxious attachment! reader x avoidant attachment! nikto

stress blights not only the brain but also the body. when all the worrying leaves you numb, you think that maybe you're starting to get over it.

you wake up sick when you and nikto go to bed on opposite sides. it feels like a blade is stabbing your belly, and a smarting headache rings through your head any time you try to roll over. last night, your stomach ached too, but you thought little of it, thinking that dinner was just bad.

it's still dark out; he's beside you, just as tense and withdrawn as he was when you said goodnight. the only light offered is the thick red numbers on your alarm clock.

the person you want to seek comfort from is him, it's always been him. but you are torn-- you don't want to bother him. you're always asking him if he needs anything or is dissatisfied with married life. nikto always says no. maybe you just ask stupid questions-- would it be ridiculous of you to ask for comfort? all you need is for him to hold you, but he's so squeamish, so--

he mutters something in his sleep, shifting in the pilling sheets. your shaky breathing catches in your throat, and your fingers scramble to clutch your shirt.

nikto is silent. his breaths are always low and hang heavy in his chest, never letting his target hear a peep out of him. even at home he's quiet to keep his edge sharp.

he turns toward you, slivers of the red glow catching on old wounds. your knees rise to compensate for your aching stomach, and your hands wander. they claw at the sheets for him, desperate to fill the three-foot gap he's instated these last few weeks.

you want him to pity you, to give you a little bit of grace. he's still as stone like he's about to dismiss the way your heart wrenches for him.

he reaches out slowly as if you're a wounded animal. you certainly feel like one, being so nervous about what's to come and hoping for a helping hand. you gnaw at your lower lip while his hand slowly but surely finds its way to your impatient palm.

his voice, a rare thing, breaks the silence.

"we are just..." he trails off, searching for words that won't make him sound as weak as he feels. "uncomfortable," he decides.

it's the most he's given you in ages. you need this reassurance that he doesn't loathe you. he's been acting like a robot like he doesn't have needs. you don't want to see battle-ready nikto. you want him vulnerable and soft, like how things used to be.

the belly pain ebbs off as relief washes over you, like a cool breeze against clammy skin. this gnawing anxiety releases its hold on you when he just shows up for you.

"i make you uncomfortable?" you squeeze out.

his fingers twitch in your grip, and his brow furrows.

"because if i'm too much, then i can let up a little. i'm sorry, i just wanted--"

nikto sucks his teeth and diverts his attention to elsewhere. your lips stretch thin.

"it is not you, it is me."

you don't speak. even if you wanted to, what could you say? you just stare, waiting for the classic breakup routine you've seen time and time again, but it never comes.

"we are stretched thin," he mutters through grit teeth. "at work. and then i come home, and i... i do not know what to say. i do not know the man you married anymore. these four walls and you become too much. i have become a ребёнок. "

his grip on your hand is knuckle-white. your skin flips between paling and flushing with every little dig and squeeze. your fingers are starting to ache, but you don't protest. this is good. he's letting everything spill and letting his breaths reach deep into his lungs.

it's time for change. this static life may not hurt you, but it makes him antsy and lackluster.

"can't we meet halfway?" you whisper. "i can try and not ask you all sorts of things all the time. but when i do talk to you, answer like you mean it, or tell me you're not in the mood."

the air conditioner unit hums as he considers you. in the dark, you can make out the shape of his head nodding.

he scoots a little closer. it's not enough for your bodies to touch, but you can feel the heat pooling off his skin and smell his cheap body wash.

[macsimagines]

Insecure!Darling trying to leave Yandere!Mikey

Put this into a separate post because Mikey's was sooo BIG LMFAO

TW:YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, PHYSICAL ABUSE, EMOTIONAL NEGLECT, KIDNAPPING, ISOLATION, JUST REALLY FUCKED UP GUYS

Yandere!Manjiro Sano (AKA Mikey)

Does not care, and he doesn't even mean it in unkind way. It's just that he wants and loves you so how you feel doesn't really matter to him. You leaving isn't a scenario he will allow or even think is going to happen.

But the thing is he doesn't comfort you either. He doesn't tell you that it's ok, that you're good enough for him, or that he needs you because he really does.

"Mikey, I just don't think... maybe you could do better?" "That's stupid. Quit talkin' about it." He just shuts down the conversation and honestly forgets.

But he does love you. With all his black heart he honestly adores you, but this love is a very one-sided playing field. He wants your love but won't give it in return, the only time you receive affection is when you're giving it to him. Hugs and kisses and even words of devotion.

"I love you, Mikey." "I know, Y/N." And while he can't live without hearing you say it, he can live without ever saying it back.

So you try to go. As quietly as you can, you don't plan on saying anything to him honestly, because you know (or you think you do) he's not even going to bat an eyelash when he doesn't hear from you.

You write him a letter too, explaining how you know he doesn't really love or need you and that you're both better off like this, but explaining that you're always going to love and want him with all your heart...

Stupidly, you keep your distance. Trying to prepare yourself for the inevitable, and don't expect him when he shows up at your door (Or more accurately, when he kicks it in) one night while you're finishing packing.

You're too shocked to even process what's happening let alone ask him what he's doing, and he's honestly the same. Aghast to see you packing your things away... getting ready to leave him.

"...What are you doing?" is the only thing he can mutter, staring at you with this blank empty expression that scares you more than your kicked in door, "I-I... Mikey, please-!" "What. The. Fuck. ARE YOU DOING!?"

The funny thing is that you never thought Mikey was holding back in front of you. You've seen the way he fights before so you knew just how terrifying he could be, you just didn't know how petrifying it was to have it directed at you.

But he's shattering your windows, throwing your boxes and destroying their contents, wrecking furniture not even two regular people could lift, all while you cower in fear of him in a far off corner, ducking every time something comes flying at you.

Even when he's done with that rampage, he's not done being angry, his eyes are bloodshot with anger when he finally is looking at you, and you're crying so hard begging so much for him to have mercy- to please forgive you for offending him.

However, its too late for apologies. Even the attempt is a grave sin and Mikey will not excuse you just yet. He's grabbing a fist full of you hair and yanking you away from the wall like you're weightless throwing you across the floor and letting you body skid across all the debris and broken glass.

The sharp pain you feel is nothing compared to the fear though, because as soon as you stop on the ground he's on top of you, grabbing your hair again with one hand and your throat with the other.

"You said you loved me-" "I DO! I DO- Please- STOP-" "You said you needed me-" "M-Mike-y, ST-STOP, H-hurts-!" "You're not gonna leave me."

And with that, he dragging you out of the door and back to one of the safe houses he has. Muttering the whole time, "You're not gonna leave, you're not gonna leave me, I won't let you fucking leave me-"

You rot there for awhile, in a cold dark room, with no human interaction than when one of his men come in to give you food, or when he had brought some back alley doctor to patch you up.

Sometimes Mikey visits, but he just looks at you with an unreadable expression, maybe selfishly tells you that he misses your warmth and affection. You don't ever respond though, you feel like you might break if you do. Sometimes, he looks...sad? But he quickly covers it up with; "This is your own fault."

One day, he comes in looking a little worse than most days, almost panicked, then you see what he has clutched in his hands. Your letter? You honestly had forgotten what you even wrote in there...

"I...I went to your apartment. I was... I was going to get your stuff to-to make you feel a little better and I-...I found your letter, Y/N," he says, his voice sounding...choked? "I-uh- I didn't know that you... I wasn't trying to make you feel- I fu-fucked up-," and now he's crying. Like he was the one locked inside a hole and left to die.

He falls to his knees beside your mattress, and you flinch, because this is the first time he's been this close in what feels like months, and that reaction looks like it just about killed him.

"I-i did-didn't know- I- please- I love you," he whimpers, and for whatever reason his words make you sick. He never once said it to you before and now that he's finally giving you his heart in return it makes you want to rip your hair out of your head. You were good enough to love now that you were broken.

But his words don't stop, he doesn't stop, he actually embraces you in a hug ignoring the way your body seizes at his touch, how your skin burns when his tears hit it like he's crying acid.

Mikey could care less, just like before, he wouldn't pay attention to how his lack of love hurt you before or how all of it was hurting you now...

He spends that whole day crying into your chest, petting your matted hair, and promising to love you how you needed. "Your love saved me, my love can fix you," he had sworn like an idiot.

No your love had cursed you, it had damned you the moment you gave it to him, and his love had destroyed you, it was going to rip whatever was left of you apart...

But still...At least you loved each other.