#just shows that this fucker thinks in music

[stgroversfire]

honestly i had to go and listen to like 20 other genres of music before i could circle back and really appreciate tøp

[prickly-paprikash]

Kendrick doesn't just hate Drake as a person. He hates the very idea of Drake.

Hip-Hop is rooted in revolution. In defiance. These are the songs of an oppressed group of people, and decades upon decades people have hated it. Accused of being meaningless and invalid. Media outlets took steps to belittle hip-hop and make sure it isn't recognized as an art form and as a means to fight back.

2Pac spoke of wealth disparity and inequality. Tupac was literally a member of a communist organization when he was younger and never stopped speaking against capitalism.

Lauryn Hill spoke of the struggles a woman faces. Not just women, but black women. Salt-N-Peppa. Queen Latifah. MISSY FUCKING ELLIOT.

N.W.A made sure people knew about police brutality and violence against the Black community.

And now, in this day and age, we're also experiencing an explosion of Queer Hip-Hop. Lil Nas X is at the forefront of this. Lil Uzi Vert came out as non-binary and uses they/them pronouns, even when they knew that a lot of their fans would never use it or even respect them for it. Auntie Diaries, a song about a young man who grew up in a transphobic environment and bought into those beliefs, but could never fully do it because his Uncle loved him so much and taught him a lot of life lessons, and that wisdom translated to him accepting his cousin as a woman as well.

Drake is none of that.

He's the perfect representation of what people think hip-hop is. Flexing. Posturing. Objectifying women. A fucker so insecure he bought 2Pac's ring just to feel like he's part of the black community. Rejected by Rihanna publicly. Tried to groom Millie Bobby Brown. Kissed and inappropriately touched an underage girl during his concert. His songs have inspired so many young boys to treat girls like shit. His belief that the amount of rings and chains and cars he has is the true meaning of success.

Additional Edit: This is my fault. If this post gains more views, then it would be remiss of me not to add to this. It was my fault to begin with, not stating this beforehand because while I did know, I got lost in celebrating Hip-Hop in a place that doesn't usually do so, and rightfully so.

2Pac did fight for wealth equality and better social living for the black community. He also has a long, long history of battery, domestic abuse, and sexual harassment against women. Specifically against women of color. He made a song to celebrate his own mother, but outright refused to give the same show of respect to other women in his life. His hypocritical nature was brushed off in later decades, just the way I did now.

N.W.A is the same. Sexual assault charges, violence—they spoke of Police reform, but refuses to give the same treatment back towards the women in their lives.

50 cent refuses to backtrack on any of his misogynistic lyrics.

Modern rappers of today, such as the dead XXXtentacion. 6ix9ine. Kodak Black.

I do love Hip-Hop. I love rap. And the music itself has always been anti-authoritarian at its core, because those are its roots. And I was happy that circles that did not normally know of it or enjoy it were getting into it, even for one thing like this rap feud.

Lil Nas X, Little Simz, Childish Gambino, Missy Elliot, Queen Latifah, Lauryn Hill—rappers who have at the very least consistently tried to put their money where their mouth is. Who have tried to act in accordance to what they rap and write and sing for.

@shehungthemoon @ohsugarsims finnthehumanmp3 were the ones who rightfully clarified in the comments. I know an apology won't correct my hypocrisy or my stupidity. I should have added all of this before making this post, but I wanted so badly to celebrate a genre of music but failed to do my due diligence in showing a better, holistic view of it. If anyone felt triggered, offended, troubled, frustrated or any other intense negative emotions surrounding this, please do block me. I'm sorry.

[casuallyanidiot]

I think that getting into a situationship with a yandere would be the worst thing ever.

Nsfw themes!

Yandere situationship and you met at a party, and you just kind of hit it off from there. You were both drunker than you probably should have been when you slept with him, but from the blurry bits and pieces you can recall, it was amazing. You remember how much your legs were shaking by the end of it, and you thought that if he was that good then, then you couldn't imagine how good he would be sober.

Yandere situationship who messages you frequently after that. He just wants to know everything about you, and you end up learning more about him as well. You have similar taste in music, shows, food etc. It's almost kind of crazy how well you get along with him. He makes you laugh with barely any effort, he cooks well, and the sex is fucking mind blowing. You'd like to date him, honestly, and you get the feeling that he's kind of prompting you towards that decision, but there's always something that holds you back.

Mainly, that fucker is clingy.

You wouldn't blame him for being a bit clingy or possessive. You might judge him a bit, given the fact that the two of you aren't actually dating yet, but he gets standoffish towards anyone that he deems to be "too flirty".

You try and tell him that you're not talking to anyone else, but you find that it doesn't really matter what you say. It's almost as if he didn't care about that at all, and is rather upset that you would deign to spend time with anyone other than him at all.

Yandere situationship who starts to linger around places you frequent in order to talk to you more. It feels like he wants to integrate himself into your life. He wants to be friends with the people you're friends with, wants to go to the parties you do. Any corner you turn, he's somehow there with a charming smile that ,while it does admittedly creep you out, you can't say no to.

You almost wish that he would properly ask you out instead of trying to just engulf your whole life. Maybe that way you could actually figure out what the fuck you should do about him. You feel like the sensible thing is to turn him down, but he keeps drawing you in with glimpses of what it would be like to have someone who actually cared about you.

It's affecting you badly, too.

Your friends have started to pull away, saying you were too wrapped up in Yandere situationship's bullshit. Maybe you were, but all their harsh words did was push you further and further into his coy smiles and wandering hands. It feels like lately all you can think about is him. You're constantly checking his messages, both out of fear and excitement, to see if he's said something new.

Yandere situationship who shows up at your house, greeting you with a forceful kiss when you try to yell at him for the sudden intrusion. He knows how to press your buttons, to get you right where he wants you to be. It's so frustrating, but it's so easy to just fall into what he's so obviously after.

Yandere situationship who occupies your every waking thought, holding the reward of an actual, committed relationship just out of reach, a grin on his lips the whole while.

Yandere situationship who ruins your personal life so badly, that when he finally asks you out, there's really nothing you can do besides say yes.

[bows4tyun]

MINE - 최연준 ˎˊ˗ ⸝⸝

୨ৎ: ""mother fucker... " yeonjun snarled under his breath, trying to get a glance of the jackass who had the nerve to approach and even touch his girl. he felt his blood begin to boil, coursing through his body like wildfire. he normally was never like this. "

𓍼 pairing! - fratboy boyfriend!yeonjun x fem!reader

𓍼 warnings! meandom!yeonjun, whinysub!reader, ass smacking, big dick yeonjun, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint, slut shaming, groping, yeonjun referred as jjunie by reader, yeonjun calls reader baby, slut, and whore

𓍼 lexi adds! - I dont know how I've been able to finish TWO stories in the span of two days but ye enjoy frat boy yeonjun !! ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ (i was too impatient to let the poll end) anyways merry christmas to anyone who celebrates!! hopefully you enjoy this gift

the party was supposed to be like any other, or at least that's what yeonjun thought it would be.

his parties were the most popular; everyone would be showing up, dressed to impress as the house was lit with bright shining colorful lights and loud music. good thing the music wasn't loud enough to wake the neighbours

yeonjun stood near the door, greeting guests one by one as they entered just as a good party host should do. maybe yeonjun's cool and funny yet approachable demeanour was the reason he became the most popular guy in college.

just because he was a fratboy didn't mean he was rude and distant like the rest. yeonjun was quite the opposite. thats the exact reason why you fell for him the same day you met him. it was only your first day in college, yet yeonjun talked to you as if he had known you for years, giving you a warm welcome as your upper classmate.

you definitely fell hard for him, but yeonjun fell even harder. he loved you so damn much, all of the small things you did reminded him why he fell for you. he just couldn't handle himself

whenever he threw these parties, he made sure your body was protected from any creeps who were trying to get a free show out of you. this time, it didnt really go as yeonjun wanted it to.

his eyes were looking around trying to find you amidst the crowd of people who were dancing inbetween the living and dining room. at the same time that he was searching, he was rejecting girls who tried flirting with him, giving them a quick "I have a girlfriend." after each of their attempts.

one girl in particular just wouldn't leave yeonjun alone, continuing to flirt and try to seduce him even after his polite rejects. yeonjun decided to stand up and go search for you but before he could walk toward the crowd, the girl stopped him, her hands running up and down his chest in a seductive manner.

"where are you going, jjun? stay with me, yeah? I promise you a good time~" she spoke, her voice full of lust and her eyes hinting desire.

yeonjun began to grow impatient his anger starting to get the best of him as he attempted to push her away lightly. oh but she wouldn't budge, staying put in her place and not wanting to leave yeonjun.

yeonjun chuckled nervously as the girl smirked with mischief. his eyes darted around the room, finally landing on you, and a guy...?

were his eyes playing with him? uncertain of what he was seeing, he blinked rapidly, trying to reset his vision.

he opened his eyes and looked again, the guy was still there yet this time, his hands were on you.

"mother fucker... " yeonjun snarled under his breath, trying to get a glance of the jackass who had the nerve to approach and even touch his girl. he felt his blood begin to boil, coursing through his body like wildfire. he normally was never like this.

that was when yeonjun lost it.

he pushed the girl aside a bit roughly, causing her to curse at him, but yeonjun didn't care. that's not what was on his mind at the moment. his only goal was to make sure you were safe.

he made his way through the crowd, finally finding himself infront the you and the guy.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing touching my girl as if she were yours?" yeonjun asked sternly before grabbing the guy by the shoulder and turning him to see his face.

the guy had the nerve to smirk at him, not caring to hear yeonjun's question. he kept his hand on your thigh which wasn't unnoticed by yeonjun. he looked at you, your eyes clearly showing discomfort.

that was all yeonjun needed. he grabbed you by your waist, catching you by surprise and you yelp. "jjunie!"

before you could say anything thing else, your lips were against his in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and dancing with yours. the guy could only watch in jealousy as yeonjun's hands dragged down along your hips and gripped your ass.

"whatever man, fuck you." the guy spoke for the last time before leaving the party completely.

yeonjun broke the kiss as you both pant to catch your breath. "that 'outta show that fucker."

"thank you, he was making me really uncomfortable... " you spoke warmly, pressing your head lovingly against his chest.

yeonjun signalled the dj for a microphone before speaking in a blunt tone, "party's over, go home."

the crowd awed in unison before obeying and grabbing their stuff to leave. you sit on the couch with yeonjun as you watch everyone leave. yeonjun's still hugging you with his arms wrapped around your shoulder, his grip tight. when a particular girl leaves she looks at you with a snarl. confused you turn to yeonjun who just kisses you in the same rough manner again.

after the party's officially over, yeonjun leads you to your shared bedroom, the room only really clean room in the whole house.

yeonjun sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "that fucker had me all worked up, what a piece of shit..." he huffs out, voice still hinting of anger. "baby, you would do anything to calm me down, right?"

"of course! why do you ask?" you questioned him innocently as you sat on the soft bed. he answered your question with a lustful glare in his eyes.

⸝⸝

"hmph-! jjunie, too fast! ah-!" you cried out pathetically, gripping onto the duvet sheets under you as yeonjun pounded into you mercilessly.

"shut up, slut." he spat out harshly before smacking your ass, causing you to yelp with tears soaking the bed. "all you do is whine and complain. I bet you liked it when he was touching you, didn't you?" he huffed while quickening his pace.

"you're going too fast oh god-!" just as you whimper and whine, you feel your head get yanked back by the hair, your scalp burning deliciously.

"what did I just say, whore? you don't ever tell me what to do. know your place shit-..." he groans and uses your hair as a way to pound even faster than before. "take it! you know you can, slut. your hole was made for dick." he says this as you pussy clenches and gushes around his cock.

"jjunie! 'gonna cum fuckfuckfuck! please, let me cum!" you plead as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. his grip on your ass tightens too as he chases his high as well.

"fuck! that's it baby, cum on my cock like the good little whore you are! that fucker wishes this were him." just as you thought he couldn't go any faster, he does.

right as his pace increases you cum on his cock, moaning out his name in a high pitched manner. "jjunie!!"

yeonjun keeps going, you could hear him huff and groan softly behind you as he continues to fuck into your spent cunt.

"you want me to cum inside? want me to claim and mark you with my cum?" you're too fucked dumb on his cock to understand what he's implying and just agree.

"yesyesyes! jjunie please-! i need it!" you mewl and grip the sheets with all your might before you hear yeonjun curse behind you

"fuck-! take it, baby!" he groans out, plunging completely inside of you, shooting out his white sticky cum into your womb, getting the perfect angle. he leans toward you, his lips right at your ear "you wouldn't get mad if you get pregnant, right baby?"

you shake your head, feeling worn out, "not at all..." he kisses your shoulder and grips your chin to make you face him.

"good, that's what I like to hear..."

𓍼 taglist! - empty! (lmk if you want to be added for future works please and thank you!!)

[cherryite]

and they were roommates...

summary. being roommates with your friend (and longtime crush) mark isn't all its cracked up to be (w.c 2.1k)

content. fem!reader x mark grayson, roommate!reader, friends to lovers, slight idiots in love

warnings. MDNI!!!!, smut, mark... lowkey creeping but kinda not his fault, masturbation, voyeurism?, mark is jorking it rip, not proofread lol

author's note. hi so this is insane that i just wrote this but it was driving me crazy so i did it anyway.... have fun!! (i'm also aware viltrumites don't technically have crazy good hearing but have u seen how those fuckers act in the show.... like how did they hear that shit...)

All you wanted was a moment to yourself. A little release.

Having a roommate who can hear a pin drop doesn’t help with this predicament. It especially doesn’t help that that person is Mark. So the fact that Mark has been gone on a mission off-planet for two days gives you the perfect window to release it.

Your room is dim, the only light coming from the fairy lights strung across your walls and the amber glow of your bedside lamp. A slow, sultry track plays from the speaker, the music wrapping around your thoughts like smoke. You stare up at the ceiling, your face blank and your jaw tight. 

You groan, your hands coming up to cover your face, dragging them down as your mind spins. It’s not just stress, it's a deep ache within you. One that's been cooking in your stomach for weeks, constantly being ignored or pushed down until it was just a dull throb between your legs. 

Sighing, you grumble to yourself, dragging your hand down to the waistband of your flimsy sleep shorts. You have been practically unable to get off since moving in with Mark. It felt entirely not cool for you to finger fuck yourself when he was a room over, able to hear everything. Barely ten feet across the hall. 

Especially not when the thoughts in your head, the ones that get you closest, almost always end up looking like him. Kind, awkward, stupidly strong, with that boyish voice and a stupid habit of acting like he doesn’t know how good looking he is. You could never tell him that though, your brain makes up terrible scenarios about what would happen if you actually confessed to being helplessly in love with him. Because what if he teased you? Or looked at you weird? Not that Mark would ever do that, you know that, he’s too sweet, too polite… too Mark.

“I’m so pathetic,” you mumble to yourself as you slide your hands below the waistband of your shorts. But the deep need outweighs any guilt and your eyes flutter shut, your breath slows.

You find yourself thinking about his voice. You think about the way he leans in when he’s tired and forgets to keep his distance, his breath fanning over your face. You think about the heat of his body when he brushes past you in the kitchen. You think about the way he says your name when he’s laughing. And the way he’s sound if he wasn’t. 

~

Mark wearily opens the door to the apartment, his suit tattered, covered in bruises and cuts. Every muscle in his body is screaming in protest as he closes it behind him. He winces, reminding himself the next time Cecil wants him to go do something in space to decline. It’s late, the darkness outside flooding over all the surfaces of the apartment. 

Mark notices your shoes by the front door. You must be home. 

He silently shuts the front door, hovering a bit over the ground, just in case his footsteps woke you up. He can’t help his mind drifting to you, his chest squeezing as he runs a hand through his hair. He can daydream later. Currently, he needs ice and silence, and maybe a new spine.

The hallway is dark around him, save for the tiny amount of light that seeps through the crack in the bottom of your door. Mark floats his way down the hallway, about to just simply pass your door then his ears pick up noises from your room. He typically tries not to eavesdrop on you. Whenever you’re on the phone with a friend, he’s busy turning up the volume on his headphones to the max, stuff like that. But he does pick up a soft, choked breath mixed in amongst your music. 

He freezes, his body stilling instantly as he furrows his brows. His ears pick up a rustle of sheets, a faunt creak of a spring in your mattress both typical bed noices. What he hears next is not typical. 

A whimper, slightly muffled. It’s faint, soft, and it immediately makes his skin prickle. Heat immediately climbs up his neck, his ears growing hot. He steadies himself on the wall next to your door, attempting to control his breathing, as if even a breath could give him away.

 He knows he shouldn’t linger, he knows he shouldn’t. He knows he should just go to his room and blast white noise in his ears until his brain is mush. But his stomach twists as he can hear the wet slap of the intrusion of your fingers, pumping in and out of you steadily. He really should go now, but he’s frozen. His hand moving to cover his mouth, muffling his own voice and the sounds that threaten to pull themselves from his throat. His free hand presses to his eyes, pressing hard into the bone of his brow, trying to free himself from the mind control that's possessing him right now. 

He should leave. But the noises you're making continue to penetrate his ears. Subtle but unmistakable, a distinct sound that's steady, rhythmic. The slick slide of fingers moving through arousal. 

And then he hears it. 

It’s breathy, he almost thinks he hallucinated it before he hears it again. 

“Mark.”

A soft gasp, completely unguarded and raw. His name, moaned from your lips, softly in the dark. He can feel himself unraveling and his knees nearly give out.

His hand drifts downward before he even realizes it, gripping his semi-hard cock through the material of his tattered suit. The contact is sharp, jarring, and it sends a shiver of heat down his spine. His breathing is ragged now, chest rising and falling far too fast. He’s being too loud, as he stares at your door like it’s the only thing tethering him to this life. He squeezes his hard on, rubbing himself through the fabric as his ears pick up another moan that drops from your lips.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s sick. It’s invasive. But he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you’re on the other side of that door, touching yourself and saying his name. Mark feels like he’s burning alive with every small breath that puffs out of your lips. 

He hears another noise. This one is higher, needier, and it sucks all the air from his lungs. His body shudders against your door frame as his free hand clenches the waistband of his pants, his other hand still stroking himself through the fabric, pressure building fast as he speeds up his motions. He’s never heard anything like this before. Never felt anything like this before. The sounds you're making, the sound of how wet you are echoing in his ears.

It’s like something has him under a spell. He can’t leave. He can’t even breathe.

The sounds get louder, more desperate, closer to the edge. He can hear your head fall back against your pillow, the sloppy sound of your wet pussy as you plunge your fingers into yourself. He can nearly hear the sound of your walls suctioning your fingers back in and it makes his stomach curl. He can hear your quiet whimpers, softing muttering to yourself, his name mixing with desperate whines. With that, his world shrinks to the thin sliver of light beneath your door, his eyes focusing on the light at his feet.

The tempo of your breathing shifts. And when he hears another breathy, gasping moan; high, sweet, needy, he nearly cums right then. The sound of your fingers moving inside of yourself is steady, wet, rhythmically obscene. He actually groans behind his hand which flies up to cover his mouth, his head nearly thunking gently against your bedroom door.

 His forehead falls against the door mutely, mouth open, panting quietly as he can, like he’s not getting enough oxygen. His hips jerk forward into his hand, he doesn’t even notice how he’s grinding against the door, how his fingers are gripping himself tight, how dizzy he feels as his cock twitches beneath the material.

He’s never going to forget this, he realizes as he finally grabs his cock in his hand. The way you sound. The way you say his name. The way he feels right now, feverish and completely undone. He’s so close, the way his gut twists and the way his hand is barely in control as he jerks himself sends his mind blank and reeling.

Another breathy moan breaks the air and Mark loses the last thread of control. He bites down on his hand to prevent himself from making noise, his eyes half-lidded as his release nears its end. His hand moves faster, squeezing himself with no mercy, jerking himself with deep seeded need as his cock spurts cum all over the front of his suit. Jerking himself a few more times, his mind clears. Staring down at the mess he’s made of himself, his body still thrumming with need, he shakily backs up from your door, silently slipping into his own room to contemplate what he’s done.

~

Mark stands in the kitchen, sloveling some sugary cereal into his mouth. It’s early, sunlight filtering through the windows, basking the kitchen in a golden glow. He leans against the counter, already halfway through the bowl of cereal, his hair damp from a shower and sticking slightly to his forehead. He hasn’t slept. Not really. A couple of hours of half consciousness, his brain too wired and guilty to fully allow sleep to wash over him. He just keeps chewing, his mind too preoccupied to think about anything else, jaw clenched.

He heard his name.

Heard it. From your mouth. Soft and broken and drenched with pleasure. Pure ecstasy.

And now here he is, eating cereal like nothing happened. Like he didn’t spend at least 30 full minutes last night with his hand down his pants and his heart in his throat as he thought of you.

He startles at the sound of your door opening, milk from his cereal dripping out of the corner of his mouth.

You step into the kitchen tiredly, still half-dressed in your pajamas, a baggy shirt and a pair of shorts that barely cover anything. He can't help the way his breath catches in his throat. He keeps his eyes on the floor in front of him, shoveling another spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

“You’re back,” you say, voice still raspy with sleep, a smile on your face. “When’d you get in?”

Mark doesn’t look up, trying to calm his racing heart. “Late. You were already asleep.”

You nod, moving toward the cabinet to grab a mug. “I left my music on last night, I hope it didn’t keep you up. I didn’t think you’d be home until tonight.”

Mark lets out a weak, almost hysterical little laugh before coughing to cover it, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “It didn’t bother me.”

You pour yourself some coffee, standing beside him like everything is normal, like your bare thigh isn’t brushing his. He tenses at the contact, his heart beating against his ribcage.

“I missed you,” you say, casual but soft, looking up at him through the steam that wafts from your cup. “Glad you’re okay.”

Mark finally brings himself to look at you, and for one breathless moment, he thinks you know. That you can see it on him, feel the tension in his shoulders, the heat radiating off him. But your expression is open, sweet, oblivious.

And that makes it worse. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

“I missed you too,” he says, and he means it. After last night, he realized how much he missed you when you weren’t near. How he missed your laugh when he did something totally nerdy. How you were always so attentive when he was rambling about comics. How your lips would curl when you saw him. He unfortunately, could deny it no longer; he had a huge crush on you and last night had only made it worse.

You smile at him, eyes warm and slightly sleepy. Mark turns back to his bowl of cereal and focuses on them as they bob around in the milk like they hold the secret to how to deal with these feelings. Anything to keep from looking at you too long. Anything to stop his brain from replaying those sounds, those words. 

He’ll tell you eventually, but for now, he keeps your sounds to himself. Locked away in his brain, bound to torture his dreams for a long time.

[viperineee]

thinking about dark!sevika who stole you from a brothel…

cw: kidnapping, slight Stockholm syndrome, dark!sevika x kinda dumb reader, manipulation mentioned, overstimulation mentioned, spitting, fingering, dubcon

it started off normally, she came to the brothel looking for a quick stress reliever when Babette introduced you two. you were new, but your body made up for your lack of experience in brothel life. so she took a chance, and she’d be a fucking liar if she said she wasn’t obsessed.

god, she had dreams nights after about how tight your cunt felt around her fingers, how well you took her rough nature. the way you babbled and cried as she pounded her cock up into you, the way your tits bounced in her face. she felt her boxers getting wet everytime she thought about it.

so she started requesting you, visiting the brothel at least twice a week. she was fucking you more than she was at the last drop, which said a lot. and you were happy to have a regular, your naive little mind ignoring the red flags she started showing after a month.

she scared off any other potential customers, threatening them the moment they looked in your direction as you strut around, tits jiggling in the tight bra. and don’t get her started on your thighs, she enjoyed the way they pressed together, just barely giving a view of your perfect cunt. they just werent good for you, they couldn’t give you what she could. and they definitely couldn’t fuck you like you needed.

sevika showered you in gifts, and you dumbly accepted them, thinking she was showing you a sign of friendship outside of the mind boggling sex you frequently had. cause people do that, right? they buy expensive gifts for people they pay for sex from? it made sense to you.

but for sevika, it wasn’t enough. she needed you, she couldn’t stand just visiting anymore. so, one night, she waited until your shift was over. you came out in a pair of shorts and a hoodie, hood up and hair barely peeking out from underneath. she walked up behind you, placing a hand over your mouth and forcing you to breathe in the chloroform. the moment you went limp in your arms, it took every ounce of strength from her to not shove her fingers in your pussy. even in sleep you were probably soaked, tight hole desperately needing to be filled.

she carried you back to her apartment, placing you on her bed. she chained you by you ankle to a bedpost. long enough that you could move around the bed freely, short enough you couldn’t reach the door if you stretched with all your might. and when you came to, you saw her sitting on the edge of the bed. her hand rubbed up and down your thigh, acting as if this were a casual situation.

when you began to squirm and threatened to scream, her hand covered your mouth, her body weight holding you down as she laid on top of you. “shhh, shh, you’re safe here with me. you were too good for those fuckers at the brothel. you wanna be here with me, right?” she whispered in your ear, and you could feel her hand cupping your pussy. you loved the sex with her, but staying with her was an entirely different situation.

her fingers pushed your flimsy panties to the side, rubbing slow circles on your clit. you felt tears prick your eyes from the gravity of the situation. you felt dirty, still feeling the throb in your pussy from her fingers. “say you’ll stay with me. forever.” she pushed two fingers inside of your sopping hole, your muffled gasp like music to her ears. you did your best to fight it off, but every curl of your fingers diminished your common sense. and sevika was loving every second of it, watching your watery doe eyes roll back into your skull when her fingers pressed just right. she might’ve cum just from the sight alone, your tears wetting her hand.

when she felt you clench around her fingers, she pulled out. you sobbed at the lack of fulfillment, feeling just so empty now that her fingers weren’t stuffing your needy hole anymore. “say it, say you’re mine.” she landed a slap to your cunt, pulling her hand away from your mouth. she knew that desperate look of yours, you’d do anything to get a chance to cum.

“pl-ease, i’ll stay. i’ll be yours, just please make me cum.” you beg her, all logic going out the window. sevika smirked, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and pushing three of her thick fingers into you. “so desperate to cum around my fingers, you’d do anything to make me happy wouldn’t you?” her pace got faster, rougher, and miraculously deeper. “stupid whore can only think of getting her pussy stuffed, huh?” she asked, lowering her body.

sevika spit directly onto your clit, and that had you unraveling. she watched as you coated her fingers in cum, the white substance leaving a ring around her digits. “look at you, cumming around my fingers. gonna ruin you, gonna break you until all that dumb little head of yours can think of is getting split open on my cock.” she told you, the pace of her fingers not slowing down once. poor baby :(

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Hello!! I love your stories!

Could you place an request for Heeseung x male reader? Wherever it is a type of enemies to fuckers,, Heeseung would feel jealous at times to see the reader with someone, in general Heeseung would be very possessive in someone who """hates""" (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

Hate That I Want U

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Enemies to Fuckers!Top!Heeseung x Member!Bttm!Male Reader

Genre: Smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

"You're always hogging the spotlight," Heeseung grumbled, watching M/n charm their way through yet another interview. The young idol's laughter was infectious, and the interviewer's eyes sparkled with admiration. It was a dance Heeseung knew all too well—M/n's natural magnetism captivating everyone in the room.

M/n looked up, catching Heeseung's gaze. Their eyes met for a brief second before M/n's smile grew wider, as if challenging him to say it to his face. Heeseung clenched his fists, the heat rising to his cheeks. He couldn't deny the irritation he felt, but he also couldn't ignore the strange thrill that pulsed through him whenever they were at odds. It was like M/n knew exactly how to push his buttons—and enjoyed doing it.

After the interview wrapped up, Heeseung found himself unable to resist the urge to confront M/n. "What do you think you're playing at?" he hissed as the other members dispersed. "Stealing the show like that?"

M/n raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a casual air. "Just doing my job, sunbae." The way he said it, all sugary sweet with a hint of sass, only made Heeseung's blood boil more. "If you've got a problem with it, maybe you should work on your own charm."

Heeseung's jaw tightened. "Don't patronize me," he snapped. "I don't need to steal attention. I earn it."

M/n's eyes narrowed, the playfulness in them replaced with a hint of steel. "Oh, I see. So you think you're above me?"

Heeseung stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You're the one acting like you're on top of the world. And let me tell you, that's not where you belong."

M/n's smirk grew. "Is that so? Then maybe you should come down from your high horse and show me what you're really made of." The challenge in his voice was unmistakable.

Heeseung felt the tension coil in his stomach, an unfamiliar mix of anger and something else—desire. He didn't know what had come over him, but he couldn't ignore the way M/n's words made his pulse race. "Fine," he bit out. "If that's what you want, I'll show you."

Jungwon, the group's leader, stepped between them, a hand on each of their shoulders. "Guys, come on," he said, his voice a calm reprimand. "This isn't the time or the place."

Heeseung took a step back, his eyes never leaving M/n's. "We're not done," he said through gritted teeth.

M/n simply shrugged, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Looking forward to it," he replied, his voice dripping with the promise of a fight.

The next day, backstage at a music show, the tension between Heeseung and M/n was palpable. They'd barely spoken since their heated exchange, the air thick with the electricity of unspoken words. As the members of ENHYPEN and TXT mingled, Heeseung couldn't help but steal glances at M/n, his frustration simmering below the surface.

The moment came when they were called to rehearse, one last time, their collaborative stage units : (M/n & Yeonjun) (Heeseung, Taehyun & Sunghoon) (Jake, Beomgyu & Jay) (Soobin & Niki) (Huening Kai, Sunoo & Jungwon). As Heeseung watched M/n and Yeonjun run through their routine, something snapped. The way M/n's body moved so effortlessly, the way Yeonjun's eyes followed him, it was too much. Jealousy and desire collided within him like a volatile storm, the pressure building until he could no longer contain it.

It was the last performance left, M/n and Yeonjun's unit. Heeseung watched from the side as M/n and Yeonjun's chemistry sizzled on stage. The way M/n's hips rolled, the way Yeonjun's eyes devoured him, it was a performance that had the audience screaming and the fan cams flashing. Heeseung felt his hands clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He couldn't stand the sight of it—how easily M/n stole the spotlight, how naturally he flirted with the very air around him.

As the performance drew to a close and the cheers grew deafening, Heeseung's jealousy boiled over. He waited for the crowd to die down, for the other members to congratulate M/n, and for the stage to clear. And then, as the lights dimmed and the cameras switched off, Heeseung made his move.

He stormed into M/n's private dressing room, slamming the door behind him. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

M/n looked up from where he was toweling off his sweat-drenched hair, surprise flickering in his eyes before they darkened with something Heeseung hadn't seen before—desire. "Just giving the fans what they want," M/n replied, his voice low and sultry."Isn't that what we're all here for Hyung?"

Heeseung's breath hitched at the blatant provocation, the way M/n's eyes roamed over his body as if he were the one on stage. The room felt smaller, the air thick with the scent of their combined sweat and the lingering tension that had been building between them for weeks.

"You think you're so fucking hot, don't you?" Heeseung spat out, unable to mask the tremor in his voice. "Strutting around like you own the place."

M/n's smile was knowing, a silent dare. "Do I?" He stood up, closing the space between them. His eyes never left Heeseung's, the challenge in them unmistakable.

Heeseung's chest tightened, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was acutely aware of M/n's proximity, the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne—sharp and spicy—invading his personal space. "You know you do," he said, his voice hoarse. "It's all everyone talks about."

M/n reached out and placed a hand on Heeseung's chest, his touch feather-light, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through Heeseung's body. "Is that why you're so upset?" he murmured, his voice a purr. "Because everyone's looking at me?"

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Heeseung felt like he could drown in the depths of M/n's gaze. He could see the mischief dancing in them, the way they seemed to say, 'I know exactly what you're feeling, and I'm enjoying every second of it.' He wanted to shove M/n away, to wipe that smug look off his face, so he turned M/n around and bent him against the table, pressing their bodies together.

M/n gasped, Heeseung's breath hot against his neck. "Is this what you want?" Heeseung taunted, his voice thick with lust. "To be punished for being such a brat?"

M/n's heart raced, his breathing shallow. He didn't resist as Heeseung's hands roamed his body, tracing the lines of his abs through his damp shirt. "Hyung!" he protested weakly, but his voice was laced with excitement.

Heeseung leaned in closer, his teeth grazing M/n's ear. "You drive me crazy," he murmured, his breath hot and tickling. "I hate it, but I can't get enough of you."

M/n's body responded before he could even form a coherent thought, his breath hitching as Heeseung's hands continued to explore. He felt the firm pressure of Heeseung's dick against his back, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks—his sunbae wanted him, and not just in the way of a rivalry. It was raw, animalistic attraction.

"Then why don't you do something about it?" M/n shot back, his voice a challenge. He knew he was playing with fire, but the thrill was too intense to ignore.

Heeseung's grip tightened on M/n's hips, his mind racing. He knew he should stop, that this was a line they couldn't uncross, but the desire that had been festering within him was too strong. "You want me to fuck you until you can't even remember your own lines?" he growled, the words leaving his mouth before he could think better of it.

M/n's eyes widened, but instead of pushing him away, he leaned back, his body arching into Heeseung's touch. "I bet your lame excuse for a dick couldn't even make me cum," he retorted, the challenge in his voice unmistakable.

Heeseung's grip tightened, the dare in M/n's words making him harder than he'd ever been. "We'll see about that," he whispered, his hands moving to unbuckle M/n's pants. The younger idol's breath caught as Heeseung's fingers brushed against the growing bulge in his underwear.

M/n's eyes fluttered shut, his body betraying his words as Heeseung pulled his cock free, stroking it roughly. He couldn't believe this was happening—his rival, his sunbae, the one person he'd been trying to ignore for so long, was touching him like this. But it felt so good, so right, that he couldn't bring himself to stop it.

Heeseung's touch was surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his words. He stroked M/n with a practiced ease that had the younger idol biting his lip to stifle a moan. The friction was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. He could feel the tension in Heeseung's body, the tremble in his hand, and it only served to make him more turned on.

"You like that?" Heeseung murmured, his breath hot against M/n's neck. "You like it when I touch you like this?"

M/n's only response was a whimper of pleasure, his body trembling in Heeseung's grasp. He knew he should push him away, but the sensation was too much to resist. The room was a cocoon of desire, the tension of their rivalry giving way to something more primal.

Heeseung's hand moved faster, his thumb circling the sensitive head of M/n's cock. The younger idol leaned back into him, his body begging for more, even as his mind screamed for him to regain control. "You're so fucking beautiful," Heeseung breathed into M/n's ear, the words sending a shiver down his spine.

M/n's eyes snapped open, his gaze meeting Heeseung's in the mirror. The raw hunger in his sunbae's eyes was unmistakable, and it sent a thrill through him that was equal parts terror and excitement. "I-I'm not," he stuttered, his voice a breathless whisper.

Heeseung smirked, his strokes growing more insistent. "Lying won't do you any good here," he said, his voice thick with lust. "I know exactly how much you want this."

M/n couldn't deny the truth in Heeseung's words. His cock was hard and leaking precum, his body eagerly responding to the older idol's touch. But he didn't want to admit it, not like this. He turned to face Heeseung, his eyes flashing with defiance. "Prove it," he dared, pushing back against the hand that held him.

Heeseung's smirk grew, his eyes dark with desire. He leaned in, his teeth catching M/n's earlobe in a gentle nip. "With pleasure," he murmured, his hand going to his cock, stroking it to full hardness. He pushed M/n's pants down further, exposing his firm ass to the cool air. M/n's breath hitched, his cheeks flushing at the blatant display of dominance.

M/n felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as Heeseung's hand moved from his cock to his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. He had never been taken like this before, but something about the way Heeseung was claiming him—like he owned every inch of his body—was intoxicating. He could feel the older idol's dick pressing against him, hot and demanding, and his own cock twitched in response.

Heeseung's hand slipped lower, teasing M/n's hole with a slick digit. "So tight," he murmured, his voice filled with a possessive need that made M/n's toes curl. "I bet you're going to feel so good around me."

M/n's eyes squeezed shut as Heeseung's finger breached him, the sensation a mix of pain and pleasure that had his knees buckling slightly. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, his body already begging for more. He could feel the head of Heeseung's cock nudging against his entrance, the blunt pressure making him shiver.

"Ready?" Heeseung's voice was a low, seductive growl, the question more of a demand than anything else.

M/n nodded, his breath shallow, his eyes never leaving Heeseung's in the mirror. He felt the pressure increase as Heeseung's cock began to push inside him, the stretching sensation both agonizing and exhilarating. He couldn't believe he was letting this happen, but the desire to feel Heeseung's dominance over him was too much to resist.

With one swift motion, Heeseung pushed all the way in, making M/n gasp. The older idol's grip on his hips tightened, his teeth sinking into M/n's shoulder as he held still for a moment, giving him time to adjust. The pain was intense, but it was quickly overtaken by the feeling of fullness, of being claimed by someone who had always been just out of reach.

M/n's nails dug into the dressing table, his breaths coming in short, sharp pants. He could feel every inch of Heeseung, the thickness of him filling him completely. "F-uck," he murmured, the word a plea and a curse all at once.

Heeseung pulled back slowly, watching M/n's face in the mirror, savoring the look of ecstasy and pain. "That's it," he coaxed, his voice a dark whisper. "Take it all."

M/n's eyes watered as Heeseung began to move, his hips snapping in a rhythm that was punishing and precise. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure and pain crashing through him, making his legs shake. He could feel the tension in Heeseung's body, the way his abs tensed with each movement, and it only served to spur him on.

Heeseung's strokes grew deeper, more demanding, his hand reaching around to grip M/n's cock in time with his thrusts. The younger idol couldn't help but moan, his body moving in sync with Heeseung's, his own hand reaching back to grip the older idol's hip, urging him faster.

Their eyes remained locked in the mirror, the reflection a warping blur of desire and anger. Each thrust was a declaration of power, a silent admission of the attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, their harsh breaths, and the occasional moan that slipped past their clenched teeth.

M/n's body began to move of its own accord, pushing back against Heeseung's invasive cock, begging for more despite the burn. His own hand wrapped around his dick, stroking in time with Heeseung's punishing rhythm. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls tightening with every stroke.

Heeseung's grip on M/n's hips grew bruising as he slammed into him, his eyes never leaving their reflection. "You're going to cum for me," he ordered, his voice gruff and demanding. "You're going to show everyone who you really belong to."

M/n's eyes rolled back in his head, the sensations overwhelming him. He didn't know if he could handle much more, but the thought of denying Heeseung anything was unbearable. His body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. "Hyung," he gasped, his voice trembling. "Please���"

Heeseung leaned in closer, his breath hot against M/n's neck. "What do you want?" he taunted, his voice low and velvety. "You want me to fill you up until you can't take it anymore?"

M/n's eyes snapped open, the fire in his gaze matching the heat between their bodies. "Yes!" he hissed, the word a desperate plea. "I want to feel you everywhere."

Heeseung's pace grew frenzied, his hand moving in tandem with his hips, stroking M/n's cock mercilessly. "You're going to scream my name," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise. "You're going to remember this every time you perform with him."

M/n's eyes widened at the mention of Yeonjun, but the anger it brought only served to fuel his arousal. He threw his head back, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he came, his hot cum spurting over the dressing table, mixing with the sweat that coated their bodies. Heeseung watched the display with a smug smile, his own climax not far behind.

Their bodies remained entwined, both trying to catch their breath, the silence in the room deafening. Heeseung's hand remained wrapped around M/n's still-hard cock, his own dick buried deep inside the younger idol. They were both panting, sweat glistening on their skin, the scent of sex thick in the air.

M/n's mind was a whirlwind of emotions—shock, pleasure, and a strange sense of satisfaction. He had never allowed himself to be so vulnerable before, especially not with someone he had such a tumultuous relationship with. But as Heeseung slowly withdrew, leaving him feeling empty, he realized he didn't regret a single moment of it.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with the aftermath of their encounter. Heeseung took a step back, his eyes still locked on M/n's in the mirror, his chest heaving. The desire in his gaze had transformed into something else—a mix of possessiveness and uncertainty.

M/n's breathing evened out, his body still trembling from the force of his orgasm. He straightened up, pulling his pants up with shaky hands. He could feel the wetness on his thighs, a testament to their explosive encounter. He turned to face Heeseung, his expression unreadable. "What now?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

Heeseung looked at him, his own eyes dark and unreadable. He didn't know what to say—the raw emotion coursing through him was a tangle of anger, lust, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Now," he said, his voice gruff, "we clean up and pretend like this never happened."

M/n nodded, his cheeks flushed with both pleasure and embarrassment. He knew Heeseung was right—what had happened between them was explosive, and it couldn't be undone. They had to keep it a secret, for the sake of their group, their careers, and their "friendship".

The two of them cleaned up in tense silence, the reality of what they had just done weighing heavily on their shoulders. As Heeseung zipped up his pants, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret—not for the act itself, but for the mess they had created. Their rivalry had always been a dance of fire and ice, but this was something else entirely.

M/n stared at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes glazed over with a mix of disbelief and desire. He had never allowed anyone to touch him like that, to claim him so completely. He knew he should be furious, but all he felt was a strange sense of… completeness.

Heeseung turned away first, avoiding M/n's gaze as he grabbed his shirt from the chair. He knew that if he looked into those eyes again, he'd be lost. He couldn't explain the possessive need that had overtaken him, or the way his heart was racing in his chest. This wasn't supposed to happen—not with M/n, not like this.

M/n watched Heeseung leave, his own heart racing. He felt a strange mix of emotions. He was hurt by Heeseung's coldness, but also intrigued by the intensity of their encounter. He knew that Heeseung wasn't one to back down from a challenge, and in a twisted way, this was his way of claiming victory.

[fictionalmenxyn]

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Frat!Rafe x Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, touchy Rafe (flirting/protective manner)

𖣘𖣘𖣘

You press both hands down in the horn.

“Let’s go fuckers it’s summer!”

You toot the horn two more times before hearing Rafe “shut the fuck up, princess! We’re coming, give us a chance!” You laugh as they stock up the back of your light blue bronco with beers and beach chairs.

Today was the first official day of Frat Summer. Meaning there were bond to be thousands of parties and hell of a load of college students getting shit faced and absolutely wrecked.

Frat Summers were like no other. Beach parties. Summer festivals. Concerts. More parties. Some hook ups. Topper and Kelce having their annual ‘how many girls they can kiss in one night’. You and Rafe wondering off on your own. Even more parties. The list goes on.

Rafe climbed into the passenger seat, leaning on the console to reach to you. Kissing your cheek he greeted “hey, you okay?” You nodded “yeah, you?” He nodded.

Topper and Kelce climbed into the back of the bronco. You looked in the rear view mirror “hey guys!” They both said their hellos.

You drove along the front, the breeze growing through your hair. The salt water smell becoming familiar yet exciting.

The boys having conversations of their own as you concentrate on driving. There was going to be a beach party this evening. To kick the summer off with a great start. You pull up to the parking lot. You took your keys out and shoved them into my denim shorts. All four of you getting out of the bronco, you all headed to the trunk.

Grabbing all the booze and beach chairs, you headed for the sand…

𖣘𖣘𖣘

The sky turning into an orange, the breeze getting ever so slightly stronger, the night started to creep up.

You held your corona bottle and danced to the music coming from some random guys speaker. You laughed with a few of your friends that showed up later throughout the evening.

A guy you and Rafe knew, since he was from another frat, started to approach you. He called out “Y/n, right?” You looked over your shoulder “who’s asking?” He chuckled “uh me actually, how’re you?” You turn around “good thanks, uh…” trying to think of his name. He laughed it off “it’s Tyler…” your eyes widen a little “Tyler!…. Right… who are you with tonight?” He nodded his head over to a group of guys “then lot, no girl today… thought you’d be here when I heard Topper and Kelce said you’d might be coming.” You nodded and sipped your drink.

God, this felt so awkward for you. You could feel Rafe’s eyes boring into your head. Well, the guys head, at least.

Rafe kept glancing over, ignoring the conversation he was in with Topper and Kelce. Keeping an eye out for you. Knowing that Tyler was a player and a fucking asshole in Rafe’s eyes. Rafe wasn’t the best, but he was better than Tyler. He treated you like you were the only woman in the world. You were a woman in his eyes, not a girl. Girls are the ones trying to get his attention or try to get in his bed. You though? We’re nothing like those girls.

Rafe had enough when he would see Tyler take another step closer to you. He handed his drink to Topper, saying ‘he’ll be back’.

Rafe casually walks over to the two of you. Acting as if he didn’t want to rip Tyler’s face off for just even approaching you.

Rafe rested his hand on your hip. He gave a nod to Tyler “Tyler, didn’t know you’d show up here…” you knew exactly what Rafe was doing. You hated it due to the cringe you felt. You were glad that Rafe looked out to you. But Rafe would purposely make things awkward so the guy would leave.

Tyler replied “yeah, thought I’d swing by, didn’t expect to be chatting with Y/n this long, eh?” He laughed as if it was a joke. Rafe didn’t laugh and you looked down to the floor resting my palm on your forehead.

Rafe looked down to you, knowing you were struggling to keep your face from cringing. He spoke loud enough for Tyler to hear “hey, sweetheart, can you grab me another drink? Please?” You sigh quietly in relief. You nodded and turn to head over to one of the many coolers.

As you start to walk away, Rafe’s hand connected with your right ass cheek. The smack causes you to roll your eyes. Knowing that was for both him and the fact he wanted Tyler to take his eyes off of you.

You headed over to the cooler grabbing two beer bottles. Using your belt buckle to open them. You walked over to where the guys had settled up their chairs. You sat in Rafe’s seat as he continued ‘chatting’ to Tyler.

After what felt like hours, Rafe returned. You glanced over to Tyler who was walking back over to his friends with his head hanging low.

You look up to Rafe “what the fuck have you said?” Rafe chuckles. Sitting on the towel next to the beach chair you sat on. He rested his head on your knee “just chatted to him that’s all…nothing too bad, princess” you roll your eyes then thought it was probably best not to push it any further.

Rafe wrapped his arm around your leg, tracing patterns into your shin with his fingers.

The night was good, summer had been kicked off to a good start. Even if Rafe had to already deal with a guy trying to chat you up. You couldn’t wait for what else summer may have for you.

𖣘𖣘𖣘

(AN: I’m missing summer sm rn, I hate winter where I live, it’s hardly snow and all rain. Anyways a smut for you all tomorrow! If you want any smut reqs they’re open! Have a good day/night)

[petew21-blog]

Mike Thurston

Mike:"Hi, Cobra. I'm Mike Thurston. Your gym instructor. I understand it's your very first time in the gym, am I right?"

Cobra:"Hey, Nice to meet you. Not really a first time, but I was never consistent with my routine."

Mike:"I can see that. Let's get to it to change that, ok? The locker room is on the other side of the gym. We're the first ones here today and probably will be until 8 so at least we won't have to worry about anybody else."

Cobra:"Great. I'll go get changed then."

Mike was stretching and picking out the music for later on. Cobra emerged from the lockerooms.

Mike:"Are you ready, man?"

Cobra:"Yeah, yeah. Let's do it."

Mike:"That's the spirit. Ok, I'll walk you through it and every time before you try out the machine, I'll show you how to use it properly. We'll start with stair climbing first as a warm up."

After 20 minutes, Mike was barely sweaty while Cobra was sweating. Cobra stepped off the stairs to get his drink. Mike didn't pay attention to him, focused on his goal.

After a while Mike stepped off. "Too much?"

Cobra:"Nah. I just get tired quickly. I'll be ok in a while." Cobra handed Mike his bottle. "Here."

Mike smile and grabbed it:"Thanks, man." Mike took a big sip.

They walked over to another machine, but Mike noticed that his vision was suddenly blurry.

Cobra:"You ok, man?"

Mike:"Yeah, a bit dizzy. I'll just sit down for a moment. I don't know what's happening to me."

Cobra:"Must be your protein drink I spiked before."

Mike looked back at Cobra shocked. "What? The fuck man? I'm calling the police." he tried to reach his phone, but was too dizzy to do so. Cobra took away his phone and placed it far form him.

Cobra:"I don't think so, man. You should go to sleep to speed this up. I'm getting excited just by looking at you."

And then Mike closed his eyes afraid of what was about to happen to him.

Mike opened his eyes. Ok, good. He's alive. That fucker didn't kill him. One good thing. His ass didn't hurt, so hopefully the guy didn't do anything to him. Mike turned around. He was sitting alone in the gym, no one in sight. He thought of calling out, but he didn't know where Cobra was. But then it happened. He noticed the mirror. He got close. The reflection. "How...what..." Cobra's reflection said as these words escaped his mouth. He was in that fucker's body. Why would he do that? How would he do that? He noticed his slender body, his well-earned physique was gone. Where was his body now?

This question was about ot be answered as his body emerged from the lockers.

His body called out at him in glee. "Hey, COBRA. What's uppp?"

Mike:"The fuck are you doing with my body?"

Cobra:"Ok, calm down. I had to take a leak. Or... your body had too. Haha. And I have to say, man. Pretty nice cock. I wouldn't have expected you to shave EVERYWHERE, but I guess that's what you guys do."

Mike:"Give me my body back you fucker or I...!!!"

Cobra:"Or what? You gonna beat me up? With that body? I don't think so. Or you're gonna call the police? Right. Who's gonna believe you?"

Mike:"You can't do this. It's not right."

Cobra:"I say it's not right to charge people such amounts of money for not even helping them out, but that's on you."

Mike:"I'll give you anything, man."

Cobra:"Anything? Leave me your body then. Haha."

Mike:"Anything but that. I work on my body all the time. I have nothing without it. I am nothing. Please, I'm begging you."

Cobra:"Eh, well... since you're begging, I'll at least enjoy the body in front of you, so you'll know how much we hate YOU guys that shove it to our faces. Sit here."

Cobra streightened in front of Mike and started the exploration of his body.

Cobra:"It's freaking amazing to have all the knowledge of the muscles and workout. It must have taken you years to know this. Ok, let's see what we got here. Ooooh. Deltoids." Cobra rolled his shoulders. "So tight. And wide. Very nice." He flexed his biceps. "Biceps brachii. Very impressive, Mike. And those triceps. Damn."

Mike quietly:"Thanks..."

Cobra moved on to his chest. "God damn these pecks. Sorry. Pectoralis major. Gotta be strict about these terms now" he flexed them and watched how they contracted and bulged forward. A creepy grin appeared on his face. His hands travelled to his abs. He moved over all his defined six pack. "The core strength is unbelievable. And what a cheese grater. Ok, moving on, rectus abdominis" he turned and flexed "And let's not forget external obliques. Shit. You have got a really great body, man."

Cobra took off his sweatpants and flexed his legs. "Fuuuuck. So bulging. I love these quadriceps, man. And even knowing their names is so hot. Vastus lateralis, intermedius and medialis, rectus femoris. Fricking amazing."

Mike:"Ehm... you... don't forget hamstrings."

Cobra looked at Mike and smiled. "Don't rush me, man. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you want me to rush it. Chill or I'll keep this body."

Mike's face was pale now, but he stayed quiet.

Cobra took off his boxers

Mike stood up:"Dude, stop. That's too much."

Cobra:"Gotta appreciate it fully. Sit back down or we're staying like this."

Mike sat down again and watched as his body was naked flexing and enjoying himself.

Cobra|:"Let's not forget the most important muscle." he took the dick in his hand. Mike was ready to say something again, but Cobra stared him down with a dominating look. Mike just sat there as his body was stroking his dick. Now fully aroused, Cobra started moaning.

Mike:"Please, Cobra, please. Let's swap back. I want my body."

Cobra:"Not yet."

Mike:"Why? What do I have to do to get my body back?"

Cobra:"I'm glad you asked. You let me fuck my body and I give you your body back."

Mike:"You can't be serious."

Cobra:"You want your body back or no?"

Mike:"Yeah..."

Cobra:"Take your clothes off."

Mike got up and took off his shirt, his shorts and shoes. Standing only in Cobra's briefs.

Cobra:"What are you waiting for?"

Mike:"I'm not gay, man."

Cobra:"It's not gay, if you're fucking yourself. It's like masturbation."

Cobra leaned in and kissed his old body. "Man, I kinda envy you. It must be so hot to his your body." he noticed the tent forming in his briefs. "See, you're not gay, but my body certainly is. So let's enjoy it."

Cobra grabbed Mike's hand and dragged him to the showers. He turned on the water grabbed Mike's head and forced him on his knees. Mike instinctively took Cobra's hard dick and started to jerk it.

Cobra:"Don't be shy, lick it."

Mike took it in his mouth. He never sucked a dick before, so the taste was definitely something new. It might have been the body he was in, but he was a bit into it.

As water rushed over their bodies, Cobra couldn't wait any longer.

Cobra:"Pulled him up and kissed him. Let's fuck!"

He picked him up and held him above his waist. Mike's body was so strong and Cobra so slim, that it wasn't an issue. Cobra pushed his dick inside of him.

Mike:"Slow down, please."

Cobra:"NO"

He pounded more and more. Both of them moaning in pleasure. Cobra was laughing out loud. The cum filled Cobra's old body. They rested in the same position, Mike's dick still in Cobra's ass.

Cobra laughed

Mike:"What's so funny."

Cobra:"I can't believe you let me fuck you"

Mike:"You said that you would give me back my body if I did."

Cobra:"Yeah. Hahaha. So I lied. This is your body now for the rest of your life."

Cobra pulled out of Mike and set him on the floor. He washed his dick and with laughter left the showers. Mike, still naked and wet, followed him to the lockers.

Cobra:"What? You didn't understand something?"

Mike:"You stole my body."

Cobra:"Clever boy. See, you're not that stupid as I thought. And you're not bad to fuck. I could keep you as my cum dump, but I might be more into pussy now so we'll see about that."

Mike was still in the middle of the lockers as Cobra put on his new clothes.

Someone entered the locker room

Guy:"Hey, Mike. Who's the naked dude?"

Mike:"Hey, don't worry about him, he's weird, but harmless."

Guy:"You done for today?"

Mike:"Yeah, but I might come tomorrow."

Guy:"Ok, see you tomorrow then, man"

Mike was speechless. Not only his body was stolen, but it seemed, that he was gonna be pretty good at pretending to be him.

Cobra:"I hope you enjoyed your first time in the gym, COBRA”

A story request by @cobraas-blog

And a late happy birthday, man! xD

Hey! Your stories are amazing. Can I request a story? It's my birthday today and I would like to swap bodies with Mike Thurston. While he beg to swap back, the swap become permanent when I fvck him in my old body. Thank you!

[cheolieji]

Seungcheol

warning: Smut,unprotected sex, breeding kink and idk what else im too lazy

A/N: This is in no way to say mingyu acts like this. it's just part of the fiction

not proofread

I'm lowkey bad at writing smut🫢

feel free to send requests!

check [17] (pink highlighted) to see my yes and no's

seungcheol is the type of guy to walk on the street side of the sidewalk

seungcheol is the protective boyfriend everyone wishes for

the perfect and clingy boyfriend

you wanna wear a short dress? go ahead, he can fight

a guy just looks at you the wrong way, his fist is tightened, his jaw is clenched, and his death glare... goddd if looks could kill

you love it when he's protective over you

but something happened that made you think, is he a little too protective?

now you're sitting in his living room beside him, hands rubbing against each other, nervous to say it

seungcheol, of course, notices this. "You okay hun?" "Yeah! why wouldn't i be?" weird... but he just nodded his head, turning his attention back to the show playing. the sound of tv playing in the background mixing with your thoughts, should you really ask him about something so little that could turn into a heated argument?

"Hey-" "babe-" "Yeah? you say it first"

"no its just uhm. i" his eyebrows raised in confusion. What are you trying to tell him?

"Okay. will you promise not to get mad?" "Of course baby, why would i get mad at you?

"You know how we went to the kims gathering?" he just nods "yeah and how mingyu kept looking at me and stuff?" "Where are we going with this" his eyebrows still raised

"Nothing like that. It's just the way you were glaring at him. felt a little.... i don't know.. rudee? I'm sure he didn't mean it like that. " "Ah, that? i know him, babe he doesn't have good intentions. when he looks at someone like that, it means he wants something out of them." he pauses for a second, "and plus, you're mine..."

you blushed in your seat

"okay good i guess... i thought you were being a little too protective"

"Hey. It's good to be protective over what's mine!" he giggles while hugging you and placing you on his lap. and you're straddling him now. Suddenly, the air shifts

noticing this, seungcheol pulls you in closer before pressing a kiss on your lips. It starts to turn into a makeout session with you grinding on him while heavy breathing leave your mouths

"Can i?" As he's looking down at your pants, you nodded. he takes your pants along with his off. "No panties? want me to fuck you that bad? huh?" You nod again, eyebrows furrowed. "Say it, baby, i wanna hear you" "yes please cheol just fuck me, please"

he teases your opening with his dick before slowly entering your already wet cunt. shit did he get bigger?

"You feel so good, baby, just for me." Now he's fully inside you. He waited a bit for you to get used to his size

he's balls deep inside you, and you're a moaning mess, but he's looking at you like you're the prettiest thing in the world

he's hitting all the right spot "ah- cheol please" your gummy walls wrapped around his thick cock feels like heaven, for the both of you

he's leaving hickeys all over your neck as you're riding him like there's no tomorrow

bouncing on his dick as you're moaning his name loudly. it's like music to his ears

you feel the familiar pit in your stomach "fuck cheol im gonna cum" he lets out a loud grunt before cumming inside you "fuck ill fill you with my babies"

" gonna make you forget about that fucker" he continues thrusting inside you until you reached your high before softly kissing you

you let out a loud moan before falling on his shoulder. "You know, if you wanna put babies inside me, we should probably do more." "you wanna move it to the bedroom?" he carries you to the bedroom for a night of pleasure

[kinichval]

"baby, i think it's missing a piece."

you bit your lip, worried where the missing lego piece could've flown off to. "its nose is supposed to be a rectangle, but we're missing a piece." you pointed out, kinich leans down next to you to compare the current progress of your minecraft axolotl lego build and the image on the box. "oh yeah, maybe it's just somewhere on the floor. i'll find it while you do the other parts, okay?" he's gentle and sweet with his words, you nodded in response, kinich planted a kiss on your forehead before he stood up and tiptoeing over your work ensuring he stumbles on nothing or he doesn't step on a piece because legos hurt like a bitch.

you laughed when kinich almost hit the wall when he focused on carefully walking over the scattered legos on the floor, he could only scratch the back of his head, still he will always find your laugh the most soothing music to his ears.

building legos with kinich has been your own little love language, it rooted from your first meeting in a toy store where the both of you "fought" over the last stock of the classic legos. he wanted it for his collection, while you were planning to wrap it up for your nephew's birthday.

who could have known that the little fucker you had a (one-sided) dispute with will be the love of your life and the man who literally worships the road you walk on?

from then on, kinich's small collection of legos became a couple thing. for every time kinich makes a purchase, he chooses to build legos with you. likewise, when certain lego builds catch your attention, you instantly tell kinich about your discovery (just like the minecraft series that you found recently, although kinich already knew about it).

"baby, i found it under the door." kinich settled down beside you again and handed over the pink lego piece to complete the axolotl's nose. "yey, thank you!" you kissed his cheek, then happily placed the nose piece and proceeded to continue building the axolotl's face.

kinich picked up a tiny axolotl piece, it became smaller in the size of his palm. "baby, look at this." he extended his arm to show you the little piece, your eyes sparkled with adoration, "aww that's so tiny and cute!" you giggled and picked it up with your smaller hands.

"can you put together the dolphin, baby?"

"sure, i'm almost done with the base."

if building legos together isn't already love, then you're more than open to ask kinich what does love look like (because you already know that kinich loves you more than you could ever imagine).

[heretyc]

Modern! Domestic Lives with Prime Assets would Include...

* Modern meaning in our era [2020s]. These are my headcanons of them and what they'd do outside of the Outlast Trials universe where they're not murderers. The only exception to that rule is Franco considering his mob business. Enjoy. :D

Coyle —

Drinking beer on the porch as he watches a storm in the distance.

Adopting a dog at some point [a large breed, either a golden retriever or a dobermann].

Wearing matching sunglasses.

Helping him trim his beard.

Hearing him ramble about communists.

Helping him with his phone [he has no idea how the fucker works].

Helping him with his ranch [he'd 100% have a ranch somewhere in Oklahoma or Montana]. I'm thinking something like this:

Having a high reputation due to Leland's effect on people.

Hearing his stories from his time in the Marines. Then learning he actually hates water.

Helping him repair cars - he has a ton. Once they work, you watch him make bank from them. He then gives you a wad of cash, grumbling under his breath that "you should spoil yourself".

Hiking together. He lives by a nature trial.

ATV'ing. He loves that shit.

Going to gun shows.

Getting daily massages due to how strong his hands are.

Having a strong sense of justice due to Leland's connections with the police.

Having tons of sex...with the inclusion of his kink for electricity.

Having him protect you with his life.

Having him train you in self defense and how to work with guns.

Wearing the funniest couple's shirts because he finds that shit hilarious. Corny, but hilarious.

Going on random drives through the countryside on sunny days.

Watching him not give a shit about a potential natural disaster. He WILL sit on his porch and say, "if I can't fuckin' see it, it ain't happening".

Him looking away if you commit a crime. Like pirating, shoplifting, etc. Just don't threaten his values and you're good.

Him being hella annoyed during COVID and hating masks, but he wears them anyway.

Him always filling the cart at grocery stores because his ass eats all the food within a week. Expect constant trips.

Him winning food competitions. His stomach is a black hole.

Franco —

Being absolutely spoiled because his wealth does nothing but grow. Making hundreds of thousands a week will do that to you.

Sharing Cuban cigars [if you smoke].

Living in Louisiana most of the time [when business isn't concerned]. He enjoys New York, but Louisiana is his home. I'd imagine something like this near the bayou:

Him having a large collection of old and new cars.

Him being an excellent cook, and making you tons of authentic Italiano cusine, as well as Louisiana and New York specialties. He once tried to mix gumbo with pizza...he made it work, for some reason.

Going on vacation every single month. Most of it is business, some of it is for fun. His men once took over Bora Bora, so...he technically owns it, now. You go there all the time.

Constant. Partying.

Only having the best of the best. The best food, the best clothes, the best furniture.

Him being confused about Mafia AU in fanfiction. "The fuck is a "Mafia BTS AU?"

Him hating The Godfather and criticizing it.

Him answering any questions you might have about mafia business.

Having an "allowance".

Him having a fondness for shopping; specifically new suits and shoes.

Having to calm him down when he's angry; he's got an itchy trigger finger.

Having your initials carved into the side of Lupara.

Having him stare at your teeth almost with a fondness.

Spending winters in hotter climates; he can't stand snow. He does love "snow", though. [If you catch my drift.]

Always having sweets in the house. He has a stash.

Listening to old music as he works on making bullets.

Not being able to hide anything from him; he can read people scarily well.

Him taking COVID quite seriously; dumbass may have eaten dirt as a child but he still can't handle being sick.

Having the bathroom sink be full of skincare.

Having a ton of laundry detergents in the laundry room; he can't stand getting his suits dirty, so he washes them constantly.

Having the swamp in your backyard be full of alligators because he feeds them "rats". [People who betrayed him in some way]. He managed to name them, too. They're...strangely docile.

Him never mentioning his father, and trying to keep him at bay.

Late night drives when the both of you are bored as fuck.

Sleeping in all the time; he's lazy sometimes.

Him patching you up after you get a minor injury.

Country club visits.

Him teaching you self defense in case something goes wrong.

Having guards around his properties 24/7 if he's in a "war" with another mafioso. He wins, obviously, but...yeah.

Taking both cargo ship and cruise ship trips, both owned by him. He has a yacht, but it's in Cuba at his other property, and that's only used when he's in the clear.

The government being a tad too afraid to touch you.

Phyllis —

Helping her with her show, and featuring on it a few times.

Her show becoming a popularity among adults due to its vulgar themes; despite being aimed toward children, it's now featured on Adult Swim due to them not taking Phyllis seriously. I mean, who offers drugs to kids unironically?

Having to get Dr. Futterman's approval before being near his daughter. You get it quite fast. He's just a goose puppet real human being with real human feelings, after all.

Living in a cottage; she's a cottagecore girly. Something like this:

Watching her paint, and sometimes being her muse.

Buying tons of art supplies from Michaels.

Her not really caring about COVID; she spends all of her time away from people, anyway. She just speaks to you, her father and the producers. [Zoom exists for her to do the latter.]

Her making homemade foods; jams, ice creams, etc. She'd be a "crunchy" person, despite her love of drugs.

Her reading books to children at libraries.

Being a taste tester for her foods.

Always having her check your teeth for cavities.

Having her do your dental work.

Holding her yarn as she knits. [She took it up during COVID, she loves it.]

Making hats for Dr. Futterman.

Having to deal with Dr. Futterman's jokes.

Having your own garden; she takes excellent care of it.

Her loving storms, and comforting you if you have a phobia of them.

Sitting in rocking chairs and watching the clouds in the sky.

Every wall of the cottage being full of paintings.

Helping her run her social medias.

Watching old TV shows, like I Love Lucy and Golden Girls.

Her wearing nothing but floral gowns.

Her buying pet piranhas. They're in a fish tank in the living room...they're her babies, for some reason.

Her loving musicals. She loves Heathers, Sweeney Todd and CATS. [The OG's remember seeing the old CATS posters on billboards. I can hear my bones creaking...yeesh]

Her also enjoying opera; since learning she has the voice for it, she loves to sing and test herself.

Having a very...very...active sex life.

[chuunai]

NEED BSD MEN HEADCANONS WITH THEM EXPERIENCING BABY FEVER FOR THE FIRST TIME

like they see a baby on social media being cute or something like that and they're just like "oh....I??? want one?????"

I’ve been waiting for this one >_<

✧˚ · . BSD men with baby fever - dazai osamu, chuuya nakahara, tachihara michizou, tetcho suehiro, sigma

summary ⋆ ★ mentions of pregnancy, babies babies babies, fluff, established relationship (dating reader), SFW with implied NSFW.

Dazai Osamu:

Dazai would only get baby fever if you two had been together for a while. That he trusts you with his being and heart. He’s lost so many others in the span of a few years, he doesn’t want to lose you too. Or a baby. A family is something that’s unknown to him. The closest thing he had to one was with Ango and Odasaku, but look how that ended up.

But when that video of a baby crawling over to her mama and papa came up on his social media feed one day, something in his mind just seemed to focus on ‘baby baby baby’. At the Agency, all he could think about was his future baby. The dark curls they’d inherit, and your lips and eyes. Kunikida could smack him for all he cared, but Dazai was the one with a girlfriend. And at home, one could say it got even more embarrassing there. Online shopping carts would magically start having baby clothes in them, and a music playlist with the title of ‘lullabies for future baby dazai <3’ appeared as well.

Of course, you ask why it’s popping up. Instead of being smart and playfully brushing it off, the fever grows to a whole new degree where he gets down on his knees in front of you and begs for a baby. He just wants a family of his own. Is it so much to ask for? Someone he’ll love unconditionally and that they’ll love him back. And wouldn’t it be the ultimate gift of your love? Something that came from the both of you and your shared efforts?

By the miracle of his persuasive words (and even more persuasive cock), you had agreed. Dazai could hardly wait for night nowadays where he’d try to stuff a baby into you. His baby. A family with you. The fever isn’t giving up, and a positive pregnancy test is his only hopeful sign of recovering.

Chuuya Nakahara

Chuuya gets baby fever very quick. It’s not his fault that he gets attached so early on in the relationship. You just complete him—the empty side where he questions everything. An answer to his purpose in life. You’re a goddess in his eyes, and he worships the ground you walk on. He also enjoys talking about you and showing you off. It’d be more impressive if he could show off a baby in your belly, though.

He blames it all on his subordinates. The fuckers are young—like him—and irresponsible. The Port Mafia is a soul’s last resort, and so one loses all sense of purpose and dignity. That leads to pregnancies, occasionally. The fathers are also usually part of the Mafia, and so when Chuuya saw the expecting parents walking around, he couldn’t help but think of you. Belly swollen with his seed, tits heavy with milk to nourish his child. He was a goner day one of the fever. The following weeks are discreetly spent reading articles about parenting, looking at cute videos of families and staring at your stomach a whole lot more now.

He tries to indirectly ask about your feelings on the topic when you’re both sleepily intoxicated on a Sunday. Snuggling up to you on the couch while his tired voice asks if you thought you two would be good parents. One hand rested absentmindedly on your stomach, kneading it slowly while you smiled and said yes. Of course, it didn’t mean you wanted one now or anything, but in the moment it sure seemed like you had said that you wanted his baby now.

That’s probably how you two ended up under the sheets, too drunk to remember protection as he prayed for a baby to be conceived. A pillow under your hips while his rolled against yours endlessly until his cum painted your cervix and walls white. He doesn’t pull out either, nor do you push him off. Deep down, he knows you want the same too. A mini-Nakahara.

Tachihara Michizou

He’s a mix of Dazai and Chuuya. He’ll get baby fever quickly after you start dating because he’s known you for so long. You two had been on the streets together for a while and joined the Hunting Dogs together. You’re his family, and he’s yours. It’s always been just you and him forever. Tachihara needs that security in order to even think about a baby of his own.

When he does, it’s when Atsushi randomly gave him a stroller with a baby in it. Tachihara had no clue on what to do when it started crying and Gin teased him for it, but damn did it look kinda similar to you and him. Then that pesky thought entered his mind after work as he tried to get it out. You’re both only nineteen, for Christ’s sake! And you haven’t even been dating for a year! Tachihara’s not going to ask you for one until you’re at least twenty-three together and still happy.

But lord, four years is a painful waiting time. But he knows you’re worth it. That the future baby is worth it. He’ll try and subtly to have you get baby fever too by going to parks more often where parents are fussing over their kids and he’ll make a comment about how you baby him like that and that your offspring will like him better. You don’t seem too convinced, but he’ll change that. Just like how he’s changing both of your future for the better.

His dreams consist of you and him raising a family in the peaceful countryside where no one will ever threaten you again. No crime or tragedy, just you and him. His biological family may all either be dead or hating him, but that doesn’t matter. You’re his family, and you love him.

Tetcho Suehiro

Tetcho doesn’t even know he has baby fever. All he knows is that he’s dating you—his heavenly angel. Everything in his life is good and normal. He has a job he deeply cherishes and loves, friends, and a civilian fiancée. The only thing he wishes for is to keep you happy and content with life and your relationship. A baby’s not on his mind for a while. Why would it? He’s got everything he needs.

But that one encounter with a child he saved from a criminal had him questioning it. The way it thanked him and hugged him got his fatherly side up and running. He thought it was just sweet of the kid to do so. Not that he wanted one of his own. Though his brain was different; insistent and pleading whenever he took you out on that one date and saw you help escort a lost child back to their parents. Tetcho’s a blunt honest individual, if you ask him something, he will most likely say the truth.

So when you see his adoring gaze at you, you ask him if he was okay and he just replies that he wants a baby too. One more thing to add to his life. You’re already engaged, he’s devoted to you forever more. He’ll take such good care of you and the baby. Money’s not an issue, and your relationship is stable and healthy. Isn’t it the best time for a baby?

He still doesn’t see it as baby fever when you tell him it. It’s just natural, right? Reproduction. He’d be a good father, he thinks. And he’ll tell you that until you give in and allow him to be a daddy-to-be.

Sigma

Sigma is also a goner day one. Coming from the Book has always made him feel out of place in the world. He has no mother, no father. No document of birth or a childhood He just came into being from words alone, and that makes him fascinated by you. He admires it, strangely enough. Your womb. The fact you could carry a baby just was stuck in his mind.

Your period is what first started his baby fever. When you first went through it shortly after your relationship began and he thought you were dying, you had to explain that you went through this every month unless you were pregnant. He offered to give you a baby, feeling bad for you. You of course said no, but he still has the offer up. He’s seen some pregnant patrons at the Casino, albeit rarely. Sigma wonders what you would look like carrying his baby. Letting him—a man not born quite like anyone else—do the honors of fathering your first child. Lord, he obsesses over it.

He has to sleep every night with his face buried in your stomach. When he falls asleep, he dreams of your future baby. It’s so bad for him. He needs to know he’s normal like everyone else. And nearly everybody can make a baby, right? If you really loved him, you’d let him try and make one with you too. To prove that yes, he’s human even if his origins are odd.

Sigma isn’t giving up. He’s a determined man with a goal in sight. He worked hard for everything he has in life right now, exhausting both his mind and body to the point of nearly insanity. A reward can be given to him, right? He’s heard Fyodor talk about God, and while he isn’t particularly religious himself, surely God will recognize his actions and give him a baby?

Here’s your meal everyone ! <3

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx, @sinfulthoughtsposts

[loveinhawkins]

gently prise the feeling out

ao3 Written for @steddie-week Day 2 prompt, “hands.”

It’s the movement that catches Steve’s eye: Eddie’s hands flexing gingerly as they walk through the woods.

At first Steve dismisses it as a nervous habit—honestly, he’d say Eddie’s holding up pretty well for someone who recently swam into an alternate dimension—but then his flashlight illuminates the side of Eddie’s face at just the right moment, and he sees the clenched jaw of discomfort.

“Are you hurt?”

Surprisingly, Eddie doesn’t look like he’s been found out; he just looks puzzled. “Uh, no?”

“Your hands,” Steve clarifies. “You keep…” With his free hand, he imitates the motion.

“Oh,” Eddie says. “I didn’t know I was—it’s nothing, man, really, just—” He laughs slightly. “Was swinging the oar around, managed to hit a bat—Jesus Christ, those fuckers are heavy. Honestly, it’s, uh, kind of a miracle I hit it at all, d’you remember how shit I was at baseball?”

“You weren’t that bad,” Steve says—vaguely recalls the days of shared phys ed and thinks, you were just left-handed, and no-one threw the ball at you properly.

Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile. “You’re very generous, Harrington,” he says; the words sound like they’re placed somewhere in between teasing and genuine. As he speaks, he subtly shakes his hands out.

Steve angles the flashlight down to them. “Lemme see.”

Eddie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

Steve stands his ground, just raises an eyebrow expectantly. Robin and Nancy aren’t that far ahead; they’ll catch up again in no time.

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. Scoffs. “Um, I think I’ll live, Steve. I can’t believe you’re even—like, you’re—” He gestures wildly, and it takes Steve a second to realise that he’s referring to the bat bites.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve says with practised confidence; right now, he doesn’t have time to be anything else.

“Then I’m fine, too.”

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes; he doesn’t want to be locked in a stalemate out of their mutual stubbornness.

“Dude, I could’ve already looked by now.”

Eddie actually rolls his eyes at that. He turns his hands over quickly, darting in and out of the flashlight’s beam like he’s saying ta-da!

“Wow,” Steve says in mock astonishment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were five.” He makes a beckoning gesture, like an impatient teacher waiting for homework.

Eddie smirks as if he’s trying not to laugh outright. And then he joins in on the act, too, stomping over with theatrical reluctance.

“Watch the vines,” Steve says, amused.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, “that’d be a real stupid way to go.” He stops right in front of Steve—and this time, he shows his hands properly: cupped together, arms outstretched.

“Can you just—need ‘em a little more—” Instinctively, Steve puts a hand underneath Eddie’s, gently pushes them up, further into the light. “Yeah, there.”

Eddie’s skin is cold to the touch; it reminds him of how Robin’s hands had felt the night of Starcourt and, less distressingly, whenever she’s nervous before a practical music exam.

He moves the flashlight back and forth in assessment. It doesn’t seem like anything’s swollen—he remembers the ache of his own hand that night in ‘83: the erratic pulse of Christmas lights as if they were possessed; the crack of the baseball bat; Jonathan and Nancy’s screams.

But what the flashlight does expose is…

“Ouch,” Steve says sincerely.

Eddie’s hands are embedded with splinters.

Eddie shakes his head again. He nods at the bandage across Steve’s middle. “C’mon, man, I don’t—these aren’t exactly war wounds.”

Steve decides not to fight him on it. Opts for a lighter touch, “No more oars for you.”

Eddie chuckles the tiniest bit. It’s a sad sound.

“Yeah, that’s not—they’re from Rick’s. The, um, the boat, y’know? I…” Eddie bites his lip. “It’s kinda… fuzzy, but I’d fall asleep in there, like just for a second, and then I guess I’d—” His fingers twitch above Steve’s palm. “Panic.”

Steve can picture it: Eddie starting awake, hands scrambling across the rough wood, as if in desperation for it all to be a nightmare; that maybe if he kept searching the splinters would melt away, transform into the softness of bedsheets.

“Remind me later,” Steve says, and he pats the unmarked skin of Eddie’s knuckles in reassurance. Keeps his touch there so he’s still partially holding Eddie’s hands up. “I’ll get them out with a pin, I’m good at…” He falters at Eddie’s silence. “I’ll be careful,” he says—it feels important, suddenly, that Eddie should know.

Eddie looks at him. The reflection of the flashlight’s glow flickers in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” he says softly.

One of his hands tilts ever so slightly, fingertips brushing against Steve’s palm. Then he steps back, hands falling down to his sides.

Steve resumes illuminating the forest floor. They walk on, and in the quiet, the air feels different, changed—for the better, Steve hopes: like something tender’s been exposed to the surface.

[practicalgauntlet]

Alexithymia

(n.) Inability to describe emotions verbally

PART ONE

Synopsis- You and Spencer share music on the jet after a grueling case.

Category- Fluff

Notes- fluff, no smut, confessions without words, Mutual pining, tension, very little dialogue, short one-shot, canon typical violence, mentions of death and murder, takes place between season one and season six but nothing about the show is mentioned just an overall vibe for Spencer, the reader has Maladaptive Daydreaming Syndrome, softcore flirting, I don't believe in Dom!Spencer so don't expect it, a vague description of the music you listen to because I refuse to describe the reader in any way.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The case had been grueling. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a mother had killed her children, or that's what the unsub wanted you to think. Hotch was the first to deduce that Sherl McCain was as much a victim as her three beautiful babies.

They were brutalized, beaten, and bloodied beyond recognition those children. It broke your heart to see them like that, their faces permanently screwed in terror as they reached out for their mother.

Throughout the week-long case, where you and the team chased lead after lead only to end up at a dead end, a pit of dread hung heavy at the bottom of your stomach. Your heart was breaking for that family, and the two others that died before you could catch him.

Even with the sick bastard forever behind bars, you couldn't shake the absolute anguish that had etched itself into your bones.

You and the team loaded into the jet, exhausted and ready to get back home. Morgan was fast asleep in his chair, Emily and J.J. sat at the back talking amongst themselves, and Hotch and Rossi were going over the case at the front.

You were thankful no one wanted to talk to you at that moment, desperate for some sort of escape, even if it was short-lived. So you dug through your bag for your MP3 player and headphones. With years of songs downloaded, all you had to do was hit shuffle and you already felt better.

The plane ride was supposed to be long, so you got comfortable, leaned your head back, and let your music take you to another place. A place where a mother and her children weren't murdered in cold blood because some psychotic fucker thought it was thrilling.

Not three minutes in, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn your head and see Spencer looking at you curiously. It took effort not to roll your eyes when your daydreams were interrupted, but Spencer's soft voice made it all worthwhile.

"What kind of music are you listening to?"

Before you answer him, you pause your music, giving him your full, undivided attention. You notice, that if it were someone else, you would have pretended to be asleep just so you wouldn't have to stop listening to your song. "Nothing you'd like, Boy Wonder."

He sat down next to you and then motioned to an earbud. "Let me be the judge of that."

You shrug, knowing that the music you were about to play was a far cry from the songs Spencer listens to. But you couldn't lie to yourself, the idea of sharing earbuds with him had butterflies flapping around in your stomach. So, instead of telling him no -which you find yourself unable to anyway- you offer him your left earbud and press play.

The song's thrumming beat continued, and you were right back in your daydream. You felt yourself drift away, your body and mind floating towards a world different from yours. Just as you were dozing off, lulled to relaxation and comfort within your own mind, you felt Spencer lean over. His breath was hot against your ear, and the ghost of his lips made a shiver crawl down your spine.

"I've always wondered what put you in a trance, you have good music taste."

You turn your head slightly, his face so close to yours, that you could reply without the music drowning out your voice. "I didn't take you for the type."

He simply hummed and turned his head away from yours, his eyes closing as the bridge of the song ended and the beat picked back up. Minutes pass by and you feel yourself drifting off again, your gaze locked on some minute detail of the seat in front of you but you never really register anything that crosses into your vision. Spencer's shoulder was suddenly pressed to yours, his thigh closer than before, warming you like you were placed in front of a crackling fire. Not just because he was a walking space heater, but because you feel your blood pressure spike, your cheeks and neck warming with a blush you knew was on full display.

You didn't know when he scooted closer, you only knew when he was so close you could time his breaths. Taking a sweeping look around the cabin you make sure none of the other members were looking at you with that knowing, mischievous smirk they always wore when they saw you and Spencer together. Maybe they knew of your blatant and undeniable crush on him. Deep down you hoped you weren't so obvious but in a room of profilers, no secret remained hidden.

Quietly, you hear Spencer humming along with the song, the timbre of his voice relaxing you back into that trance you so often put yourself into.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A bout of turbulence woke you up from a sleep you don't remember falling into. The lights in the cabin were off save for the small overhead light Hotch always kept on. That small glow allowed you to see that everyone was asleep.

It took you longer than you liked to admit that the comforting, heavy warmth clinging to your left side was not a figment of your imagination. Sometime during your sleep, you had curled yourself around Spencer's side, laying your head on his shoulder and entangling his arm with yours.

You stiffen with embarrassment, ready to swiftly untangle yourself from him with a groveling apology for taking away his sacred personal space. But when you look up at him, you notice that he too is asleep.

Selfishly, you took this time to admire him. His sharp jaw, the way his lips slightly parted with each exhale, the column of his throat. All the things you greedily gobbled up in short, quick glances were now on full display for your glutinous gaze. He was so pretty, carved straight from your dreams; mind, body, and soul.

You didn't dare reach up and tuck that stray strand of hair behind his ear, didn't dare move to trace his lips with the pad of your fingers. You refused to risk the possibility of waking him up and having to awkwardly explain why you were ogling him like a love-sick puppy.

Your efforts were in vain as the jet shuddered and rocked some more, startling Spencer away with a snort. He looked around, rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes with his free hand. Before he could look at you, you quickly close your eyes and pretend you were still asleep. Maybe if he thought you were asleep, he'd let you cling to him for just a while longer.

Instead of shoving you away or even waking you up, you heard his soft chuckle. It took so much effort to not open your eyes and search for the object of his amusement, but you remained strong, using your training to keep your face neutral. He didn't say anything for a long time and you thought he had fallen back asleep, but when his hand slipped across your cheek, you just about jolted upright and ruined everything.

He kept his palm there for a few seconds, just cradling your face where it rested on his shoulder. Spencer moved his thumb in small circles, tracing the curve of your cheek before moving lower to swipe across your lower lip.

Your heart was racing, beating erratically against your ribcage like it was demanding a way out. A few times you almost break the ruse, desperate to see what the hell his face looked like as he touched you so gently, but you had a feeling that if you opened your eyes now, he'd scramble away from you and hide. So you kept still, reveling in the fondness of which he touched you.

Spencer pulled your bottom lip down for a second and you felt a puff of air spread across your face. Softly, so quiet you almost couldn't hear it over the soft music now playing and the roar of the plane engine, you heard him groan. But before you could do anything with that information, his hand slipped into your hair and he pulled your earbud out.

Without the music, you could hear his movements more clearly. Rustling fabric, a zipper, and then more rustling fabric. Not to mention it felt like he was trying to wiggle away from you but keep you glued to him all at the same time. Then, with a gust of stale cabin air, you were tucked further into him and something warm was placed over your shoulders.

It hit you then when the unmistakable smell of Spencer enveloped you, that he had used his suit jacket as a makeshift blanket. As he settled into the seat, you felt him lie his cheek atop your head and intertwine your fingers with his.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You were jostled awake again by a gentle shake of your shoulder. At first, you didn't know where you were, your sleep so deep and relaxing that you forgot everything you had witnessed both on the case and in the darkness of the plane's cabin.

"Hey, we're back at Quantico." Spencer's voice was low and gravely like he too had just been rudely awoken.

You were still wrapped up in him, still clinging to his arm and tucked under his chin. The reality of the situation hadn't hit yet, your brain was still addled with sleep as you nuzzled deeper into his warmth. "Hmm?"

"Come on, sleepy head, let's get you home."

You shoot up, now aware of your predicament and how embarrassing you must look. Refusing to meet his eye, you gently extract yourself from his side and stand up on wobbly legs. "Oh, my god. I'm so sorry Spence..."

Spencer stood too, stretching his arms high above his head, and chuckled. "It's no big deal, really. I-" He paused, straightening his shirt and ducking his head down to meet your downcast eyes. "I quite enjoyed it."

This had you looking up at him, the memory of the previous night flooding your mind and you felt yourself glow from how bright and hot your blush ran. "I, um..." You didn't know what to say, pinned by his intense gaze and bright smile.

Instead of saying anything else, he takes your bag off the floor, shoulders it, and grabs your hand. He leads you out of the plan, through the building, and to the street before hailing a cab. It wasn't until you were watching him stand there, a look of longing spreading across his face as his eyes trailed after the departing cab, that you realized you were still wearing his coat.

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ stress-ridden rafe cameron can't seem to get himself off without your help.

warnings — 18+ MDNI. details of male masturbation, stressed & pressed rafe (mean!rafe if u squint), unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, name-calling, degradation & praise (yummy), slight sadistic undertones, partially proofread

cherie's note — nothing like free-use, and angsty sex, am i right?

the spit within his palm felt warm against the cold air of his bedroom, salty sea breeze from off of the ocean a bit colder than normal. his window was open, helping cool off the sweat forming on his forehead as he desperately pumped his cock within his hand, groaning with each pass over.

no matter what he did, he couldn't make himself cum.

not with everything going on — those stupid fucking pogues, running around and ruining shit. and his father? the stress and mental turmoil ward put on the eldest cameron sibling was enough for anybody to go crazy. it was all he could think about, mind clouded with the endless noise of conflict and tension, when it should have been focusing on other things.

with an aggravated sigh, the waistband elastic of his pants slaps against his stomach with a hiss. he's shoving his feet into a pair of shoes out of frustration, truck keys lodged inside of his warm hands as he descends down the stairs.

he needed to clear his head — he needed a distraction.

rafe: be ready in five, need to clear my head

he was there in under that time, foot a bit too heavy on the pedal — but what was new with rafe? he was impulsive, his next moves hardly ever calculated. and maybe it was a bad idea he had shown up to your house when his cock angrily poked against the zipper of his pants, pre-cum definitely staining the inside of his boxers.

he watched as you walked down the dark driveway, tight top hugging the curves of your breasts so nicely, he practically had to pry his eyes off of you as you approached. the hum of the music within the truck vibrated the vehicle, playboi carti playlist on repeat in his expensive black truck.

you hopped into the passenger seat easily, plush black leather forming around the globes of your ass so perfectly it was like his truck seat was made specifically for you. your beautiful eyes landed on him, watching the way his knuckles threatened white flesh at how hard he was gripping the steering wheel — it was obvious he was in a mood.

"what's wrong, rafe?" you ask, voice soft but filled with concern. it wasn't uncommon for him to show up at your house like he had, hardly giving any warning, especially with everything going on. you seemed to be the only one who could calm him down.

he's hesitant to reply, sexual frustration clogging his brain. it's not like he could be upfront with you, i can't get myself off without thinking of all the shit going on. that was pathetic, and quite frankly, a bit too much information. instead, he shrugs, "my dad."

it seemed to always be his answer. you had known rafe for years, and had been around tannyhill enough times to recognize the immense amount of pressure ward put on his only son, taking out the frustration of his missing daughter on the only other person who craved his acceptance. their love was conditioned — an endless battle of rafe tiring himself out to the point of crashing out, and his father continuing to neglect him no matter what he did.

"again?" you question, eyes forced towards the road when he puts the vehicle into drive.

"yes, again," he sighed, his eyes squeezing shut in frustration. what a stupid fucking question, he thought. but it wasn’t, not really. he knew the truth — he was just wound too tight, desperate for any kind of release. it wasn’t fair to take his frustrations out on you, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. "fucker won’t give me a damn break."

you shrugged, glancing back at him. "you two are around each other all the time. it’s normal to get on each other’s nerves—"

"jesus christ," rafe snapped, cutting you off. his voice was sharp, almost biting. "i asked for a distraction. i don’t want to talk about it anymore, fuck."

"you know, you're being a real dick right now, rafe." you spit back, eyes rolling.

his vision snaps towards you, eyes filling with anger at the remark. he wasn't about to take shit from you now, too.

turning the wheel sharply down a backroad, you gasp at the sudden shift of the vehicle. it looks dark for miles down the dirt road, and your heart begins to thump within your chest, until he angrily shoves the gear of the vehicle into park. furrowed brows, you watch as he moves his body towards the passenger side of the large vehicle.

his hand cups the soft skin of your cheek, guiding your head toward him as he presses his lips forcefully against yours. startled for a moment, you quickly kiss him back. his tongue meets yours in a heated battle for dominance, the taste of whiskey lingering on his breath. with a soft moan, you yield, letting him explore the inside of your mouth the way he wanted, every movement deliberate and consuming.

he pulls away from the kiss, a pitiful pout planted on your now swollen pretty lips, panting for air. “push your fucking seat down.” he orders, voice gruff with aggression and irritation.

“what?” you question, confused.

“do it, s’my truck and i’ll leave y’out here alone if i want.”

it was an empty threat, really — he wouldn’t dare, and he knew that. the threat in his voice is enough to make you obey, just like the obedient girl you were for him.

your heart pounds against your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as rafe's sudden, impulsive movements send a wave of anticipation crashing over you. there's raw energy in the way he moves, unpredictable and intense, leaving you breathless. the tension in the air thickens with every gesture he makes, every glance he casts your way. you can't help but feel the pull of it, your pulse quickening, senses heightened as he tugged down the rigid material of your denim shorts. boy, you had sure gotten yourself in it, now.

the feeling of his calloused fingers rubbing the thin material covering your pussy had your head feeling nice and fuzzy. the fabric of your lace panties were soaked, within only a matter of seconds.

"since y'wanna be a brat, i'll fuckin show you better." he mutters, voice quieter than usual as he works to unbuckle his belt. "chose the wrong fucker to mouth off, sweetheart."

pushing your sticky underwear to the side, his fingers guide the head of his cock towards your entrance, teasingly rubbing it over your soaked folds, “you’re so pathetic, doll. this drenched, and all i did was be a bit mean t’ya?”

the pressure of his fat tip pushing into your tight cunt without warning sent harmonized groans filling the small stuffy space you shared in his truck. the feeling of your warm, velvety walls wrapping around him was enough to have him cum on the spot, head of his dick so sensitive from failed attempts at getting himself off the entire night. he couldn't stop there — he wouldn't stop there.

he fucks into you with so much force, hips smacking against your ass over and over and over again. it becomes clear to you just how stressed and frustrated he had been, thick cock taking it out on your poor cunt. still, your walls clenched and gushed around his length, only becoming more turned on by the mixed sounds of skin slapping, and the squelching of your pretty pussy.

thank god he had spent so much money on such a big truck, or else he wouldn't have be able to have your back pressed against his chest, big rough hand wrapped snugly around your throat. he drove his length in and out, the sound of your pathetic whimpers filled the truck, both pairs of eyes rolling from pleasure. the way your warm walls hugged his fat cock even despite the rough snapping of his hips was driving the orgasm he had been chasing for hours closer to its arrival.

"look at you," he murmurs, lips pressed against your ear as he speaks, warm breath sending goosebumps down your skin, "taking my cock so well. good little slut, huh? my perfect little whore."

he's so self serving, hardly putting in an effort to help you cum. he was such an asshole sometimes, thinking with his cock more than his head. his mind was set on one thing — his perfect dark blue eyes on the prize. not that you minded, you were willing to be rafe's cock sleeve whenever he needed it, if it meant feeling him inside of you. such a pathetic little whore, it was almost comical.

"gonna pump you full of my cum, jus'cause i can." he groans, the noise coming deep from within his chest as his hips fail to stutter, pounding relentlessly against your puffy cunt. "you're gonna take it too, like a good bitch, isn't that right?"

the sound of your whimpers and whines isn't an answer enough for him, your brain too fuzzy and fucked-out to form a coherent sentence — all you could think about was the way his spongy tip poked at that gummy spot inside of you. his hips halt suddenly, eliciting a whiny groan from your pretty plump lips.

"rafe..." you cry out, the knot within your stomach fading the longer he refused to move.

"the fuck did i just ask you?" he hissed, hand finding your face as he pushed your flustered cheeks forward, before delivering a smack against the flushed skin of your face. "come on, don't disappoint me now. what happened to that attitude, pretty girl?"

"fuck," you groan out, cunt clenching achingly around his length, lodged so deeply within you that you swore you could felt it grazing your cervix, "i'll take it, daddy. need you to fuck me again so bad, m'gonna let you cum in me till you're satisfied."

and his hips continued, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your sensitive skin, right below your exposed shoulder. "'atta girl, that's what i like to hear."

it was becoming too much, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge, your body responding instinctively to him. you tried to focus—tried to ground yourself in the way he felt moving inside you—but it was useless. your thoughts were a haze, melting into nothing as he kept control effortlessly, his rhythm unrelenting. he had you exactly where he wanted you, utterly undone and entirely his, every gasp and whimper proof of how thoroughly he’d taken you apart.

"shit, baby," he cursed, thumb creeping it's way into your mouth as you suckled on the digit almost gratefully. "you cock-hungry or what?"

you moan out around his thumb, pools of saliva beginning to fall from off of your own tongue, drenching your chin in spit. "gonna cum, rafe." you mewled.

"nah," a twisted grin curled his lips, "been needing this since i picked you up, don't ruin this shit for me."

he could be so cruel, sometimes. this was so obviously about him, how stupid of you to think otherwise. this was about him, not you. his thrusts turn lazy, before he's spilling his thick creamy seed inside of you. your poor cunt twitched at the feeling, your own orgasm sending your walls clenching around his slick cock at the feeling of his nut shooting inside of you, legs practically trembling as he held your weight against his broad chest.

he shifts back into the driver's seat, the sound of playboi carti's music filling you ears again after you had come down from your high. he buckles his belt and fixes his shirt, looking over at you with the proudest, most smug expression you had ever seen.

"give you a ride home, least i can do for fuckin' the shit outta ya."