#like god forbid i try to help anyone out anymore

[gongedtornado]

shout out to customers who are grown ass people and throw a fit when i try to help them out because we didn’t have a specified item or something. idk. y’all absolutely make my day <3 (/s)

[defmaybe]

Not Shy

1k words

aespa’s Yoo Jimin/Karina x Male Reader

Sequel to J’adore

Prequel to Afterglow

See also: Sticky, Bahama

“Are you sure no one noticed us coming in here?”

“The five-minute interval shouldn’t alarm anyone, f–fuck.”

You whimper as Jimin drags her lips on where the suit doesn’t cover, so—the hollow of your throat. Your back is leaning on the women’s bathroom door.

“And by the way, ngh, it’s like they’d snitch on a student president, anyway.”

“You’ve got nothing to lose, baby. You’re a fucking treasurer, mmm.”

“I–,” are the last things you can rebuke before the buttons of your shirt are unlocked.

It’s true, aside from a few bills collected onsite, you have absolutely no worries at this second, both at work and in reliability. Background works—billing, accounting—won’t be affected by whether you’re getting fucked by your head of student council, anyway. Treasurer is quite a passive position to do, isn’t it?

“Not so witty anymore, mmh?” Karina bends down; her tongue paints a straight line up your abdomen, and you clench your mouth tightly to not have the other partygoers hear your symphony—her words.

“C–Can’t you just like, ngh, forbid them o–or something?” you ask, legs shaking with her hand groping your bulge, her lips still printing endless marks on your chest. Your composure is stripped off with each clothing removed.

“I wish secrets work like that, dumbass,” she responds, fingers grabbing your crotch–tightly, sending a shock throughout your lithe frame.

“Ngh! F–Fuck~ Alright, I–I get it, Jimin.”

“Be a good boy for me and keep quiet, alright?” She pulls back from your now-reddened body, locking you within her eyes–brown, alluring. It helps that her hair is tied to the back neatly with no stray strands, so that you can see her face—god, that face, the perfectly sculpted nose, the rosy red lips—clearer.

“S-Sure.” You can do nothing but comply.

Now, the logistics of the bathroom aren’t very complex. There are stalls—perfect for a sitting position. There are walls, obviously—pin Jimin against the wall and fuck her brainless. Though, is she a woman like that—the kind that is so eager to become a student president in college, and so pliant at the same time? You’d argue that there exists a woman in this intersection; it’s just not Jimin.

This is where the mirrors and the sinks come in.

“Ready?” The stark eye contact is still there, and she’s still grabbing your aching erection under the pants.

“Ready what?”

“You know, fucking my cunt,” Jimin growls, letting go of your bulge onto the back of her neck, trying to unlatch her thin, black strap holding her night together.

“O–Oh, yeah.” And swiftly, the clanks of your belt, the swoop of your pants, and another swoop of your underwear finally unshackles your raging length for her.

At the same time, her dress comes undone, freeing her voluptuous breasts topped by the hardened brown peaks just for you, and you don’t realize that you’ve been entranced by them for a little too long.

“Hey,” Jimin says, snapping her fingers. “Yeah, I fucking know they’re big. Now fill me up already.”

You gulp, “Y-Yeah,” as you watch her taking off her laced purple panties.

She then hands you the garment. “Here, a souvenir for our underappreciated treasurer.” She rolls her eyes while saying so, not believing the words coming out.

With not much time to lose, you quickly shove her used underwear into your pockets, making sure no tails of it can be seen. And getting ready, Jimin walks towards the marble sink, planting hands on it. Her immaculate features are shown in the mirror. She pulls the charcoal-black dress up, looking at you in the reflection.

“Fuck me.”

It would be the sight of your ass jerking back and forth if someone is to walk in on the debauchery—not your cock, not her tits (helps that your hands are using them as handles—grabbing, squeezing). Every thrust in and out of her, the sight of her contorted expression, the sound of her silent moans are sending you into rapture.

“Y–Your vagina feels so good, J–Jimin, ngh,” you moan. Your cock now glistens with her juice.

“Say ‘cunt’ or ‘pussy’ like a normal person, idiot. I’m not a fucking prudish,” Karina scoffs.

You aren’t in the right state of mind to debate, really. Her wet, tight cavern is so determined to milk every drop of essence out of you to drought. The walls squeezing around your needy length is just too much to handle.

And there it is, your impending release. You can feel it in your loins, far, but it’s there. Karina gives you a stern eye contact along the act—purposeful, ardent. Hell, she’s even smirking at you. She’s always this confident, isn’t she? It has been like this since the first meeting. She’s headstrong, not swaying by a bit, even if she’d be alone with the choice. She’s kind, not swaying by a bit, even if it means getting herself into harm. She’s perfect. She’s fucking perfect.

“F–Fuck, Jimin, I think I’m gonna–”

“Just fucking cum inside me, baby. I wanna feel your cum dripping down my legs. I wanna feel your cum–, ngh,” she cries out, unable to form the last words. She doesn’t seem to care about her forte anymore.

And it’s like you’d care, anyway.

“Cum with me, alright?” Jimin looks back at you, before mumbling under her breath, “Ha, fucking bye-nior prom.”

It’s not much more for you to release your seed inside of her, as you can feel her body shrieking around your cock. It’s a euphoria—eyes fluttering, hips slowing down, panting and such. You can hear your cacophony echo throughout the bathroom. 

As you two come down from the orgasm, Jimin’s breaths are still ragged. “F–Fuck, that’s great, my dear treasurer.”

“Y–You’re t–too, my dear president.” You’re also unable to catch your rhythm.

“Do you think anyone would hear us?”

You ponder for a few heartbeats before replying, “Yeah, definitely… maybe.”

[mcrdvcks]

Could I request a one shot of Old Man Logan? Something with fluff and angst like a huge argument between him and his other half and Laura works to get them to make up after days of not talking

things i wish you said

chapter summary: You and Logan get into a fight and Laura tries to get the two of you to see the errors in your ways.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: thank y'all for sending in requests! i've been working on the last chapter of i love you, in every time but i ran into a bit of writer's block so the requests really helped <3

anyways, i hope this was what you wanted anon!

warnings/tags: au of 'logan (2017)' aka logan doesn't die at the end, arguments, angst, laura being smarter than reader and logan, really this is just laura being a smartass, fluff

"I can’t believe you!” You set the dish towel angrily down on the counter, glaring at Logan. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

Logan leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression hard. “Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta be stubborn, considering you’re trying to fix a situation that ain’t broken.”

“It is broken, Logan!” you snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You just refuse to see it because that’s what you do! Shut everything out, pretend like nothing’s wrong until it all blows up in your face.”

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. “What’s wrong is you makin’ a mountain out of a molehill. I said I’ll handle it.”

“You handling it usually means disappearing for a week and coming back bloodied and brooding!” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “God forbid you actually let someone help you for once.”

“I don’t need your help!” he barked, his voice rising. “I’ve been doin’ just fine on my own for years.”

“And look where that’s gotten you!” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the frustration boiling in your chest wouldn’t let you stop. “You’re not on your own anymore, Logan. When are you gonna get that through your thick skull?”

Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice dropped to a dangerous low. “You don’t think I know that? I didn’t ask for any of this, but here we are. I’m doin’ the best I can, and it ain’t enough for you, is it?”

“That’s not what I said!” You took a step toward him, shaking your head in disbelief. “But you don’t even try to meet me halfway. You just... shut down and push me out the second it gets hard.”

“Maybe I’m tryin’ to protect you,” he shot back, his words laced with frustration.

“From what? From you?” Your voice cracked, the argument chipping away at the walls you’d built to keep your own emotions in check. “I’m not scared of you, Logan. What scares me is losing you because you’re too damn stubborn to let anyone in.”

Logan’s mouth opened as if to retort, but no words came. He stood there, breathing hard, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the room, the screen door slamming behind him.

You stood there, staring at the door, your heart pounding. Part of you wanted to go after him, to yell more, to make him understand. But another part of you was too tired—too hurt.

The house was quiet now, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Laura walked in from the hallway. She didn’t say anything right away, just hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed in that way that made her look far older than her twelve years.

“You two are so loud,” she finally said, her tone flat but edged with something that sounded suspiciously like annoyance.

You groaned, dropping your hands and looking over at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Laura replied, stepping further into the kitchen. She pulled out a chair and sat across from you, her sharp gaze studying your face. “You’re crying.”

You swiped at your cheek quickly, though you weren’t sure why. Laura didn’t miss much. “It’s nothing, kiddo.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” she said, her tone even. She leaned her elbows on the table, her small hands clasped together. “You and Logan fight all the time now.”

“That’s not true,” you replied automatically, though the words felt hollow as soon as you said them.

Laura just stared at you, unblinking. “It is.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes grown-ups argue. That’s just how it is.”

“Yeah, but you’re mad at him all the time. And he’s mad at himself. It’s annoying.” Her bluntness cut through you, and she tilted her head. “Are you going to leave?”

“What? No.” The question startled you, and you leaned forward. “No, Laura. I’m not going anywhere. I love Logan. I just... wish he’d stop shutting me out.”

Laura didn’t say anything for a while. She just stared at you, her gaze as sharp as ever, like she was picking apart everything you’d just said.

Finally, she shrugged. “Then tell him.”

You blinked. “I have told him.”

“No, you yelled at him.” Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, and it made you feel about two inches tall. “That’s not the same.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “It’s complicated, kid.”

Laura tilted her head. “No, it’s not. You’re mad. He’s mad. You both stop talking. Then you stay mad.”

You stared at her, caught off guard by how simple she made it sound. “It’s not that easy.”

Laura didn’t respond to that, just gave you a look—one of those looks that made you realize this twelve-year-old could probably win a staring contest with the Grim Reaper. She stood up without another word and walked back toward the hallway, leaving you sitting there with a mix of frustration, guilt, and... something else you couldn’t quite name.

---

The next few days were... quiet. Too quiet. Logan didn’t come around much, and when he did, it was brief—mostly to grab a beer or say a gruff goodnight. You didn’t push him, not yet, but the silence between you was its own kind of argument.

You also knew that he wasn’t sleeping in bed with you. You could tell because you’d wake up early for work, only to find Logan sprawled out on the couch, his legs dangling off the armrest. You would’ve woken him up—told him to go to bed while you left—but you stopped yourself every time. The anger hadn’t completely faded, but it had started to feel hollow, replaced by something heavier.

This morning was no different. You paused in the living room doorway, coffee in hand, watching him. He was fast asleep, one arm thrown over his face, the other hanging off the edge of the couch. You sighed quietly to yourself.

“Just go to bed, idiot,” you muttered under your breath, knowing he wouldn’t hear it.

---

Laura stood in the doorway of the garage, watching Logan fiddle with the same part of the truck he’d been pretending to fix for the past twenty minutes. She didn’t say anything at first—just stood there, arms crossed, her quiet presence heavy enough that Logan eventually sighed.

“You gonna say somethin’ or just stand there starin’?” he muttered without looking up, his voice rough.

Laura shrugged. “You’re not fixing anything.”

Logan’s hands paused for half a second before he went back to the wrench, a little harder this time. “Truck needs work.”

“It doesn’t,” Laura said bluntly. “You’re hiding.”

Logan froze again, jaw tightening. “Ain’t hidin’.”

“You are,” she insisted. Laura took a step closer, eyeing him like he was some kind of experiment she was studying. “You and Y/N are mad. It’s annoying.”

Logan finally looked up at her, scowling. “What’s annoying is you stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong.”

Laura didn’t flinch. She just stared at him, unfazed as ever. “If you don’t talk to her, she’s going to leave.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on the wrench tightened. “She’s not gonna leave.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Logan stared at her, expression unreadable, but he didn’t answer. He looked back at the truck instead, as if the bolts and metal could give him something to focus on. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.”

Laura stepped closer, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I know you. And I know her. She cries when you’re not looking.”

Logan stilled, his shoulders tensing, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t want to hear it—didn’t want to think about it.

Laura didn’t stop. “You think shutting her out makes her safer, but it doesn’t. It just makes her sad.”

“Laura,” Logan said sharply, his voice low.

She ignored the warning in his tone. “You don’t want her to leave, but you’re acting like you do.”

That hit something, and Logan finally set the wrench down, exhaling harshly. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.” Laura’s voice was calm, but there was something pointed beneath it. “You’re scared. You don’t want to need her.”

Logan looked at her, his scowl deeper now, though it lacked its usual bite. “Yeah? Where’d you get all that from?”

Laura shrugged. “I watch you. I listen. You’re both loud.”

Logan shook his head and ran a hand over his face, grumbling under his breath. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

She just tilted her head. “You’re worse.”

Logan let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Great. So now I’m gettin’ life advice from a twelve-year-old.”

Laura shrugged again and turned to leave. “If you don’t talk to her, I will.”

That got his attention. “Hey—”

But she was already walking out of the garage, not bothering to look back. “You’re welcome,” she called flatly.

Logan swore under his breath, watching her disappear. He sat there for a moment, hands resting on his knees, staring at the half-fixed truck. He hated that kid sometimes—hated how she could cut right through him like that.

And worse, she was right.

---

You came back from work late, opting to eat out instead of at home to avoid any awkward interactions. By the time you walked through the door, the house was dark except for the faint glow of the kitchen light. You set your bag down quietly, not wanting to risk waking anyone up.

But as you turned toward the living room, you noticed Logan sitting on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. He wasn’t looking at you—his gaze was fixed on the floor, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely together.

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything or just go straight to bed. Before you could decide, his gravelly voice cut through the silence.

“You didn’t come home last night.”

You froze, then blinked. “What?”

He finally looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “Laura told me. Said she noticed. I didn’t.”

You frowned, your heart sinking a little. “Logan, I—”

“I should’ve noticed,” he interrupted, his voice low, almost too quiet. He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s on me.”

You crossed your arms, unsure what to say. “I didn’t stay out because of you.”

“Yeah, you did,” he replied bluntly, cutting you off again. “You’re avoiding me. I get it.”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, like he was resigned to it—made something twist in your chest. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not avoiding you. I just needed... space.”

Logan scoffed, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Space. Right. Because I’m such a walk in the park to be around.”

“Logan—”

“I get it,” he repeated, louder this time, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t have to explain it. I know what I’m like. Hell, Laura reminds me every day.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “This isn’t about Laura. It’s not even about you being... difficult. It’s about you not letting me in.”

He stiffened at that, his jaw clenching. “I’m tryin’.”

“Are you?” Your voice softened, but the hurt was still there. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re just waiting for me to give up.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a second, you thought he might argue. But then he sighed, slumping back against the couch. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost bitter. “I don’t know how to let someone in without... screwin’ it all up.”

You stared at him, the anger you’d been holding onto slipping away, replaced by something softer. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Logan. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I just need you to try.”

“I am trying,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “It just... doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”

“It is,” you said firmly, stepping closer until you were standing in front of him. “But you can’t keep shutting me out every time things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

He looked up at you, his expression guarded but vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied your face like he was trying to decide whether to believe you.

Finally, he let out a long breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you have to let me stay.”

Logan nodded slowly, like he was finally starting to understand. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “I’ll... figure it out.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you said, offering a small, tentative smile.

He didn’t smile back, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. He leaned back against the couch, his eyes meeting yours. “You eaten?”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“You look tired,” he said gruffly. “Bet you skipped dinner.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I grabbed something on the way home.”

"Good," he muttered again, leaning back against the couch with a long exhale. His hand moved to the bottle of whiskey, but instead of picking it up, his fingers drummed against the glass absently.

You hesitated, then walked over to the couch, standing just in front of him. “Logan.”

He looked up at you, his brow furrowing slightly, waiting for you to say whatever was on your mind.

Instead, you sat down beside him, close enough that your knees touched. For a second, neither of you said anything. Then Logan let out another heavy sigh, reached over, and pulled you into his lap with a quiet grunt.

“Logan—”

“Just sit,” he said, his tone softer than usual, though still carrying that gruff edge. One of his hands rested lightly on your hip, the other settled on your thigh. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in him start to ease as he let himself rest against you.

Your hands moved up instinctively, one settling on his arm, the other gently threading through his hair. He didn’t say anything at first, just breathed deeply, the weight of the past few days pressing down on both of you.

“You should come to bed tonight,” you murmured after a while, your voice quiet but steady.

Logan didn’t move, but you felt the way his body tensed under you. “I’m fine out here.”

“You’re not,” you said simply, your fingers brushing through his hair again. “You look miserable on this couch.”

He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder. “I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the point,” you pressed. “I want you in bed. With me. Where you belong.”

Logan lifted his head then, his eyes meeting yours. His expression was guarded, but there was something softer there too, like he was considering your words. “You sure you want me there?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you said, your hand moving to cup his jaw. “I always want you there, Logan. Even when I’m mad at you. Especially when I’m mad at you.”

That earned a faint smirk from him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t think I was much for sharing a bed with someone.”

“Well, you’re not great at it,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You steal the blankets, and you snore.”

“Don’t snore,” he muttered, his lips twitching slightly.

“You absolutely snore,” you shot back, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t care. I just want you there.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his hand tightening slightly on your hip. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Alright.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “Good.”

For a few minutes, you stayed like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but comfortable. Logan’s head rested against your chest, and you could feel the tension slowly draining out of him as your fingers moved lazily through his hair.

“Y’know,” he muttered after a while, his voice low, “Laura’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You chuckled softly. “She’s just looking out for you. For us.”

Logan grunted, his arm tightening around you slightly. “Kid’s too damn smart for her own good.”

“She gets that from you,” you said, smiling.

That earned another faint smirk, though he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his eyes closing as he rested against you. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Good,” you said softly, your hand continuing to stroke his hair.

For the first time in days, the tension between you felt like it was beginning to mend.

[prismkith]

arcane req teehee

any arcane characters you want (women+ please) with a partner that's a little weird/otherworldly. just a bit of a strange person ygwim

“Don't mistake me for the wind when she blows” 

Arcane women with a weird/otherworldly partner!!

Pairings: Caitlyn, Jinx, Vi, Sevika

Caitlyn:

-Finds it absolutely adorable. 

-With all the shit she has to deal with, being an enforcer and detective, and now practically one of the leaders of Piltover, your strange habits and anecdotes help bring color back into her world. 

-Loves coming home from a stressful day of work to find you in your own little world. Her shoulders immediately drop and her face softens, wrapping her arms around you and asking you what you’ve been up to, ready to listen to you go on and on about your strange little adventures.

-Once looked outside her window to see you barefoot with your pants rolled up to your knees, standing ankle-deep in a pond. Eyes closed, face blank and arms crossed just standing there in the water. When she asked you why you were standing dead still in a pond for thirty minutes you just replied “felt stressed” and shrugged your shoulders like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

Vi: 

-Was a little weirded out at first. She didn’t really understand what you were talking about half the time, and definitely labeled you as an airhead before she got to know you.

-Eventually, she began to slightly match your energy. You say some odd shit like “I wish we were two birds so we could sit on a branch together and sing all day” to which she’d reply “Type shit” and nod in agreement. 

-This girl is a WHORE for physical touch, not even sexual touch. Just any contact of your skin on hers. One time you decided to take a nap while she was sitting next to you on the couch, and without saying anything you put your feet on her lap so you could spread out but still be touching her while you slept and she literally melted. Girlie's heart exploded on the spot. 

-Loves to join you on little adventures. One time you asked if she wanted to join you in the woods to look for a really good stick. Like one of those big smooth sticks where you see them and go “damn that’s a nice stick”. She obviously said yes on the spot. 

Jinx: 

-Your twin flame. Absolute soulmates. 

-Didn’t question your quirks ONCE. In fact, she almost out-weirds you sometimes. You walked into her hideout to find her attempting to balance a stack of crackers on her forehead while in her underwear once so needless to say you’ve met your match. 

-Not super huge on physical affection especially at first, but loves it when you do the thing where you lay on her chest but you crawl inside her hoodie/t-shirt so your basically cuddling while connected to the max. 

-You two are never sitting where you should be and everyone else has coined it as “your thing”. Like for example, if you two are hanging out at the last drop you are both sitting on top of the table, rather than in the chairs or on bar stools and everyone just accepts it. You two regularly hang out on the ceiling rafters wherever you are, and If you knew each other before Silco’s death you definitely startled him more than once by doing so. (when he first saw you and Jinx together his first thought was literally “Jesus christ theres two of them”.

Sevika:

-Gonna be totally honest, she thought you were fucking annoying at first. 

-Like to be fair she had to deal with Jinx’s antics for years, so when you came along shawty was drained. 

-Nonetheless, you captured her heart anyway. She doesn't make fun of you per se, but imagine that one meme that goes “Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something we don't know how to hear anymore?” “I just want you to stop saying odd shit”. That's your dynamic. (secretly finds your quirks adorable but would never ever admit it) 

-God forbid anyone else say anything even slightly condescending to you, though. She does NOT play about you, you're literally the light of her life, and as much as she gets sick and tired of your habits, she is the ONLY one allowed to feel that way. Has beaten multiple people to a pulp for saying slightly passive-aggressive things to you. 

-Despite her slightly detached and no-bullshit personality, you know she loves you no matter what. She may not verbalize it much, but the way she shows you off is enough for you to know. Whenever you're out together she always has an arm around your waist or has you sitting on her thigh. Anything to proudly show off and announce that you're hers and only hers.

_______________________________

A/N: LOVVVVED THIS REQUEST! As a certified "interesting critter" myself i luv a good weird partner headcanon. Also this was my first time ever writing headcanons so go easy on me TT im still finding my bearings writing for characters lol. constructive criticism always appreciated!!

[heartfeltcherie]

i had this idea pop into my head a couple nights ago and i finally put it into words! hope u all enjoy <33

wc 662

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

yet another meeting.

charlie had gathered everyone in the hotel’s lounge area for a rundown of new team building exercises that she wanted to explain to everyone. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested in helping out, you were.

it was just the fact that the couch cushions you were currently sat on were providing the utmost comfort and it also wasn’t helping that you were trying not to nod off in between sentences — you swear you closed your eyes at “trust fall exercises” and opened them back up at “writing out your feelings is also important”

and then there was the red radio demon you were sat beside.

alastor.

everyone feared his presence, wouldn’t dare to even look in his direction. but the way he was with everyone else, he wasn’t the same way towards you. you didn’t know how to describe it; sitting beside him right now, you felt a sort of… warmth. and of course with that usual smile he has plastered on his face, you don’t know which emotion he’s feeling.

but it doesn’t make you wanna run away and hide. instead, you feel contentment. you feel safe next to him, even though you know that he could have you dead in cold blood within seconds.

and this is perhaps the fifth time he’s watched you, out of the corners of his eyes, nod off for what seems like five seconds, only to almost jolt awake again in what seems like… panic? oh you poor little thing.

“you know, cher” he’s not even focused on charlie’s tangent anymore, instead on you, the tired little doe that can barely keep her eyes open. he still keeps his eyes trained forward. “if you’re feeling so out of sorts, i could provide you with a tad bit more comfort, if you truly desired” his voice is a low whisper, careful not to disturb the other hotel stayers as he’d rather not bring attention to the fact that he maybe cares about someone. how preposterous.

you look up at alastor through your tired eyes. he has one leg crossed over the other, his hands resting on his kneecap — you think he looks so handsome sitting this close to you. he meets your gaze with a turn of his head, careful not to cause such a commotion as he glances between you and his shoulder.

oh?

it’s a very sweet gesture. especially coming from the radio demon himself because you know he hates when people invade his privacy. and even though you’ve always wondered what it’s like to fully be in his touch…

you’re scared, shy, all of the above.

and you think the dust of pink on your cheeks gives it all away.

“no need to get so bashful on me, sweetheart, it’s just a simple gesture. besides i can’t have a belle like you being exhausted all day, now can i, hm?”

alastor trains his focus back towards charlie as you shyly take his offer, slowly laying your head down on his suit-clad shoulder and it’s… very cozy, you decide. the small amount of contact feels very serene as you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder. and god forbid anyone looks in your direction, otherwise you probably wouldn’t hear the end of it. especially angel dust who’s been bugging you about your little crush on the radio demon.

you decide to go a bit further and link your arm around his, only for a bit more warmth your mind declares is the perfect excuse while your heart fluttering in your tummy, watching for any disapproval alastor has. but he shows none. it’s the greatest feeling in the world to be this close to him. you shouldn’t get used to this… but god, do you want to, so bad.

“you gonna put me to bed too after this?” you whisper jokingly in alastor’s ear, seeing his ear twitch just the slightest. how can an overlord be this adorable?

“don’t push your luck, cher”

please reblog/comment if you enjoyed my work, it’s greatly appreciated ♡

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Paperwork

summary: While Price's injury is healing nicely, you're growing needier by the minute. But you're not the only one. With the doctors order in mind, you and Price attempts to stave your hunger by having you cockwarm him in his office.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, depiction of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, cockwarming, p in v, teasing, masturbation (f), unprotected sex, creampie, implied age-gap

a/n: Well, that little valentines blurb really helped to get the writing going🫡

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Christmas passed just as slowly and cosy as you'd predicted, perhaps with one slight change of plans.

You'd returned home the night you'd dropped John from the hospital and helped him settle in somewhat. Despite debating whether to stay the night, your soldier urged you to head home to rest properly after spending so much time away.

You understood he tired of your company. In fact, he had a point, seeing how you wouldn't sleep soundly with him, constantly worrying if you would disturb his sleep by sharing a bed. And you needed a fresh set of clothes anyway. But you also noticed that being hurt took a toll on John. He'd accepted that you would be there to help him, but something told you he needed time to brood over the fact he was on med-leave for the upcoming months.

Once you returned to the flat you'd left in a hurry almost two days ago, you wandered aimlessly, trying to finish setting up your Christmas lights. However, whatever adrenaline the past 48 hours provided finally seemed to ebb, and you crashed on your couch shortly after finishing your task. 

By the time you woke up again, it had been dark outside. Dinner that night hadn't been glamorous, partly because you didn't have any finished food in your fridge and partly because you were yet to be hungry from the late lunch you shared with John before leaving his place. Still, the bowl of instant ramen warmed the cold feeling settling in your body from merely looking outside your window and down at the snowy streets.

You slept in the next day, waking up with a warm body and nose slightly chilled from the cool temperature in your room. The rest of the day was slow. You checked in on John with a message around noon, accustomed to reaching out to anyone in your closest circle around that time, seeing how no one usually was up earlier on the weekend, even if John definitely didn't categorise as one of those. He'd given you the awaited broody reply, grumbling about a horrid night of sleep and a dull ache even after taking his prescribed meds.

You stared at his message for a minute until deciding to give him a call rather than answer it.

'Hell, love'.

'God, you really sound worse for wear', was your instinctive response as John greeted you with a rough voice.

'Cheers', he huffed in return, a groan following shortly after. At that moment, you rubbed your forehead, an ache settling in your heart at not being there with him.

'How about I come over today already? Christmas is approaching, and we already said we would celebrate together. Wouldn't hurt if I stayed with you in the upcoming days with your shoulder and all...', you trailed off at the end.

'Know you have no problem with it, but I don't want to take up all your time if you have other things planned', he responded tentatively. 'I've managed worse on my own'.

'Don't have to do it alone anymore'. You reminded him, and with that, he didn't argue.

'Pack your bags, then'.

And you'd packed your bags for a week. Although, by now, you'd stayed two, with the occasional trip back to your flat to swap out some clothes.

John's shoulder healed nicely, even if the process was arduously slow, but at least it meant his injury wasn't inflamed. God forbid you would've seen it like that. While you never counted yourself as squeamish, the first time you'd helped John rid himself of the bandages and the surgical tape that, for a seeable future, needed to be changing once a week, you also remembered that neither had you ever seen a freshly sewn-together wound.

His skin was a deep pink, and the sewn-together parts puckered and elevated from the surrounding areas. You almost shied from pulling the surgical tape the rest of the way when first laying eyes on the injury. Upon seeing the scrunch of your nose and worried glance up his face, John made you step back and do the rest, reassuring you it didn't hurt, just strained unpleasantly if he moved wrong.

While it may not have hurt while gently cleaning the wound the first time and that John now could go without the sling, it didn't mean you didn't notice the pull in his features when he did make a too-fast movement or a shift that pulled at the stitches and deeper-torn tissue. He's still instructed not to carry anything heavy, making you catch a grumble of 'a goddamn month more' as you passed by right before your name was called numerous times. 

You didn't chide him from initially thinking he would manage on his own, but you both knew what the look you sent him implied and that his thank-you kiss was a silent acknowledgement that you'd been right. It would've been anything but enjoyable for him if you hadn't spent the past two weeks with him.

Even though only two weeks had passed, you quickly noticed John wasn't a man who could go long periods without doing anything. That didn't mean he couldn't take it easy. As he said himself, he'd learned that skill. But, reading so many books while having x amounts of scotches was only as enjoyable and appropriate as it could be to not count as light alcoholism. John was itching to do something more than sit idly around or keep you company during whatever you did.

So, it wasn't a surprise the first time you found him in his study a few days ago. He'd looked up from the papers with a caught-in-the-act look when you knocked on his study's door, the excuse of work piling up that he needed to look over leaving his lips instantly. You'd never been the one so strict about working when home; your free-lancing job was practically based upon it. Therefore, you'd waved his excuse away, padding into the office you'd barely set foot inside despite the many times you'd visited him. 

You'd leant against the side of his desk, not more than casting a quick side-eyed glance on his computer to show you noted its presence but not the contents on the screen before your gaze sought his. Upon your curiosity of what it was, John indulged you in what he occupied himself with.

And just like that, John, who usually was so strict about not working when spending time with you, grew lenient on that rule of thumb, restlessness gnawing at his bones enough to slip away an hour or two each day to occupy his mind. But, you always saw him at the same times during the day, joining you on the couch in his living room or in his bedroom, hijacking the TV remote to follow the post-Christmas football matches.

You jokingly poked his side each time he did, commenting on how there were two TVs in his house if he'd forgotten. But you only got a quirk in his lip and wink in return as he proclaimed he needed to convert you into a fan, teasingly anchoring you to his side with a heavy arm if you threatened to escape. 

But you both knew you didn't mind cuddling into his side with your head on his chest, following the matches of the day, only if he started getting too worked up when his team played and jostling your head around too much.

And that settled you into a new routine. While you busied yourself around the house, occasionally working a few days here and there, John watched football and occasionally retreated to his study. Although you left him to his work, he always left his door open, showing you it was free to enter if you desired.

Today was one of those days you did your separate things, not having seen each other much since the breakfast you shared, after which John left you with a kiss and 'know where to find me'. 

It had been fine. It is fine. You'd gotten ahead of work for the new year, and John eased his workload gradually. And yet, glancing at your phone screen, you note lunch is overdue. 

Sure, today had been slow. You and John had laid in bed for a while, basking in the last of the Christmas spirit the days between Christmas Day and New Year's Eve carried. And so, breakfast had been eaten later than usual, meaning lunch was also to be pushed forward. However, at half past one, John should've emerged from his office for a well-deserved break and shared the task of cooking something.

Putting aside your book, you move from the couch and wander outside the range of the fireplace's warmth. Its fire had long since burned out, and now the only parts glowing were the embering coals. 

Your fuzzy socks act as a barrier between your feet and the cold wood beneath as you wander up the stairs. Despite the constant blast of radiators and the fireplace harbouring a non-stop fire, the floor always remains chilly when the temperature drops outside.

Much like the past days, the door to John's study stood ajar. But, compared to earlier, when you'd retrieved something from the bedroom, you didn't only pass it with a glance inside, finding John staring down at his computer with his injured arm resting in his lap as his other scrolled whatever he was going through. Now, you pushed the door open, locating him not behind his desk but seated in one of the two Chesterfield armchairs.

The edge of your mouth quirks upwards as you observe his upper body bent backwards over the low backrest, laptop resting in his lap, kept only from slipping by his hand. As you enter his peripheral vision, he glances in your direction. You offer him a warm smile as you close the distance, moving to stand behind the chair.

"How's it going?" You look down at the head tilted far enough backwards that John can watch you, albeit upside down, from where he sits. He grunts in response, eyebrows raising swiftly as he straightens. 

You chuckle, hands that previously rested on the leather sliding to rest on John's shoulders, where you immediately dig your fingers into his muscles. He groans again, but this time, his head dips forward as you follow the tight tendons near his neck.

"That much to do?" You hum as you let up on the pressure, concentrating more on his uninjured side, following the muscles out to his shoulder, only to return and follow his spine to the back of his head. 

"Not really". A harsh breath follows John's sentence when you find a knot along his neck and concentrate on easing it with your thumb. "The boys can manage, Laswell too, but whatever's possible to be pushed forward, they leave to me, meanin' things that need readin' through and cleared for the go-ahead".

"Imagine it ain't like that book I gave you", you muse, John only scoffing in return. 

"Nothin' like it", he almost grumbles. "Would much rather cosy up with you and read that than this". He flicked the screen with his finger, a semi-metallic, semi-glass tick ringing from his action.

"You know very well you can drop work and cosy up with me and that book anytime you want. You're on leave". You remind him with a small smile, knowing he isn't really complaining.

With this being your first Christmas, you'd agreed to not spend too much on presents, even if you both had bought each other spontaneous gifts before, John being the culprit for spoiling you with expensive things much more often. While he'd gifted you a necklace he'd caught you looking at, you'd gotten him a book he mentioned wanting to read and a cigar to add to his collection. One, that at the moment, remained pretty stagnant as John refrained from having a smoke the first weeks of recovery. But you knew he itched for one, catching him eyeing the container he kept them in more than once.

"Hm, 'bout that", John's head lolled backwards, his gaze locking with yours. "Come here", he cocked his head, motioning for you to move around the chair. You did as he wished while he lodged his feet beneath the furniture's edge, moving the heavy armchair slightly backwards to allow you to stand between him and the low table. 

With you now in front of him, John placed his laptop on the wide armrest, leaning forward shortly after. Concerning it being the closest, the hand of his injured arm slipped around your naked lower thigh when he sat forward, your oversized sweater ending just above his hand.  

"Said here", John nods to his lap, pressing gently at the back of your leg.

"Your shoulder, John", you lightly scold his insistence, knowing where things would go if you ended up straddling him.

"It's fine". He insisted, tugging at your leg again. This time, you relented somewhat, stepping between his spread legs, the armchair's brown leather cool against your shins.

"The doctor told you to take it easy, let it heal." You reminded him of the instructions he'd received, but now, he scoffed at them.

With his head tilted to the side and displeased crease between his brows, his hand slipped down just an inch. The sudden tug as his fingers dug into the back of your knee took you off guard. It made your leg bend, and to not fall forward, your leg caught the excess seat beside his thigh as you caught yourself on the armrest to keep yourself steady.

You send John a look, as his stunt could've easily made you brace against his shoulder rather than the furniture. But he only cranes his head slightly as you hover over his self-satisfied self, a quirk bowing his lips.

"Takin' it incredibly easy, just you who's makin' me work hard for it". There's a glint in his eyes as his hands slide upwards, massaging the back of your upper thigh from how your dress-like sweater has ridden up somewhat, sneakily trying to urge you to settle entirely on top of him. Even so, you remain hovering. 

"Missed you, love". You narrow your eyes at the change in his approach.

"Missed me or something else?"

"Both." John's answer is almost boyish in how a half grin stretches his lips and the cock of his head. You roll your eyes but can't withstand his request any longer, the butterflies in your chest never truly escaping when close to the man.

Climbing into the seat with as much grace as possible, you're mindful of his shoulder, bracing against the opposite side on the backrest to ensure you don't accidentally grip it for support. But the armchair is wide enough for your legs to comfortably slot on either side of his hips, and your hands slide to rest on his abdomen instead.

Now planted in his lap and more accessible to avoid straining his shoulder to reach for you, both of John's hands find purchase on your waist.

"That wasn't too hard, now was it?" He humours you with an arched brow as you shuffle in his lap to make yourself comfortable, only to feel something beneath you. 

"No, but something seems to be". You tilt your head, alluding to the semi you slowly felt more prominently in his sweats.

"Haven't felt my girl in nearly a month. Can you blame me?" You shake your head with a huff through your nose, gaze cast down until it returns to his.

"Thought you were confident you wouldn't cave first". 

"Never said that", John hums as he curves his back to make himself more comfortable in the armchair, making you settle more firmly over his crotch. "Although I remember you sayin' you could go the longest without a proper fuck". He dares you to deny it with a cock of his brows.

You roll your eyes but don't technically argue against him. "With how you are speaking, I could think you're growing desperate".

He clicks his tongue. "Can't guilt trip me for missin' your warm cunt".

"Jesus, John", you flush under his heavy gaze and crude words, enough for you to look to the side. 

Fingers knock beneath your chin, quickly redirecting your attention back to him. Greeting you is a pair of blue eyes twinkling in intrigue. "So what you say, wanna keep me warm while I work?"

You eye him sceptically. John had figured you liked cockwarming him, the fact nothing hard to figure when you always pulled out the process of him slipping out of you as you caught your breaths in the aftermatch of whatever session had your body trembling and his clutching yours to anchor himself. But those times often happened after, not before. 

"We're not fucking", you point at him.

"Keep still, and we won't". He chuckles at your muttered 'insufferable' as you rise to your knees.

John helps you as much as he can, stabilising you with his un-injured arm as you tug down the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers digging into the fabric of his underwear, feeling the hotness of his still not-fully erect member. He sighs as you pump his cock to bring him to full erection before pulling his length out, rubbing the tip against the fabric covering your cunt. 

A warmth, a need, you hadn't felt in the past weeks blooms in your lower stomach. 

Since his injury, you and John hadn't had sex. It might only be a few weeks, but having a mostly bare-chested, burly man like him walk around the house nearly every day because it was too tricky putting on a shirt did things to you, things which you repressed in favour of not pushing anything onto John that would strain his injury. Doctors orders.

But as you pushed your underwear to the side, how easily worked up you got whispers of a repressed desire, your slit wet without any proper foreplay, not more than the mere thought of finally feeling him inside you. Even so, you softly whine as you sink down onto him, the stretch as he entered not unfamiliar in comparison to unused to. 

A drawn-out exhale escapes John as your tightness slowly swallows him, his hands falling to lift your shirt and simultaneously massage your hips.

"Just like that, love", his words are drawled as blue eyes follow how you inch your way down, having to work up and done with rolls of your hips take him after this long. "Just relax. You always take it so well". His praise makes you flutter around him, making your and John's breaths catch.

With a last shift, your thighs finally touch his, his cock buried to the hilt.

"Fuckin' hell so warm". You glance up at John, having his head notched backwards, lips slightly parted. Calloused hands slide up the smooth skin of your sides, outlining the curve of your hip, making your shirt ride up enough to show your stomach before it slides down again as his hands smoothened down your body again.

"Didn't you say you would work? Hard to do that while coping a feel". Your breathy comment brings John's head forward again, his eyes partly lidded.

"Only need one arm for that". There's a gentle tug in the corner of his mouth as he angles his laptop towards him on the armrest.

While propping his uninjured arm along the armrest, scrolling on the mousepad as he returned to the reading you previously interrupted, John's unoccupied hand gripped your hip as he brought you closer. The slight shift makes him move inside you, and your eyes flutter shut. Shit, this would be much harder than you'd anticipated.

In hopes it would distract you, you lean forward, nose knocking against the column of his throat. You inhale his scent, concentrating on how the typical aroma of rich cigar smoke is vacant from his skin with the lack of smoking.

John's unoccupied hand travels to the small of your back, fingers alternating between massaging your muscles and tracing light patterns against your skin. 

Shivers run up and down every part of your body, unconsciously making you shimmy as the shudders reach your shoulders. Your shifting jostles him inside you, causing you to clench reactionary. John's chest heaves, indicating he definitely felt how you squeezed around him.

But he didn't say anything, not verbally, at least. He simply grabs a fistful of your asscheek until flesh spilt between his fingers. The silent scold forces you to resist rocking in his lap, only releasing a quiet whimper, burying your face deeper into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

You inhale to steady your breath. 

The shower John took in the morning made his body wash more prominent. But he still smells of a certain alluring warmth, a musk simply describable as him, the one making you nuzzle against his bare upper body. You don't know whether to curse or hail him for not wearing a shirt nowadays, his nude chest distracting you somewhat from the delicious stretch and fullness of finally having him inside you. Until you knew it definitely did not help you.

As the hair dusted over his pectorals tickled against your lower chin and his beard against the upper part of your forehead, you ran your hands up and down his abdomen and chest. 

Feeling the thick cords of muscle beneath a layer of fat that made him so deliciously big and broad clench beneath your fingers acts like a lighter to gasoline. Mental images of seeing those muscles work as he pumps himself into you fill your head.

You don't even notice how your hips begin to roll until a heavy hand clutches your side, swiftly preventing the motion.

"Be a good girl, hm?" You glance up at John, but he hasn't even angled his head to face you. His blue eyes simply remain fixed on the computer screen. Even so, you feel how the muscles in his neck flex, and a soundless chuckle shakes his chest. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, face falling to hide against his neck again, but your attempt to remain calm has already failed as your mind supplies nothing but the filthiest scenes behind your eyelids. Grunting. Pistoning hips. Flesh grasped tightly.

You force an exhale, refraining from moving with any and all willpower in your fibres as you feel his girth throb inside you. You need a distraction. You need to distract yourself from thinking about how his cock fills you so well.

You start to mouth at his skin, light presses of your lips along his collarbone, trailing only far enough to his shoulder that you didn't aggravate his injury. When you once again reach where his clavicle met his sternum, you begin trailing kisses up his neck. You hum in delight, nuzzling against John's jawline, his beard tickling the tip of your nose. You felt him sigh, his chest pressing against yours before he exhaled through his nose.

God, you pliantly move with him as he shifts in his seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position by sliding down somewhat. But you can't help but momentarily dig your fingers into his abdomen as the slight stir pushes his hips against yours, forcing him deeper inside you. The sting of your nails makes his hips jump more erratically than when he'd shuffled just seconds earlier, and you can't stop a moan as you press yourself down into his lap. The only thought left in your mind is that you desperately need to move. Now.

Rocking your hips, you gave a quivering sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his blunt tip hitting something so sensitive. 

"Love", John's voice is even, hinting at nothing more than attempting to earn your attention. However, how his hand travelled from around your waist to your ass, angling your hips roughly in an arch so you were pressed, forced stationary, against his chest, spoke of something else.

When you emerge from his neck, with hands planted on his chest, his blue eyes lock with yours, and how he tilts his head causes a shiver to run down your spine.

"Said to sit still, didn't I?" A soft whine leaves your mouth, lower lip jutting out. "Only going to keep me warm, eh?" He tuts amusingly.

You huff as you catch the amusement in his voice. "You seem to like it".

"Not 'bout likin' it love, but seein' how strong that resolve of yours is", he hums, taunting words brushing over your lips

You could bare your teeth at that response, like a cat hissing at someone, even if they were petting them because they came close. John's cock was literally throbbing inside you, his hips shifting to get more comfortable, only to rock himself deeper into you, demanding, mocking you to do something about your predicament.

As if feeling your body tense, your frustration growing, the menace of a man you're perched upon decides to stoke the fire by giving you a small kiss on your lips.

"Not fair", you hiss against John. This time, his chuckle is audible.

"No one said anything about fair". You send him a deadpan look, but he only chuckles deeply again. "Now relax again, love". His hand pushes against the back of your head, bringing you to rest it against him. You don't fight him, hooking your chin near the juncture of his neck, staring at the bookshelf opposite you.

You knew you'd given a false promise when you said this wouldn't lead to anything. Called your own lie and his with your initial scepticism. But now you're too far gone, too horny after nearly a month of not properly feeling him; you let out a shuddering, displeased moan as you purposefully squirm.

Your constant shifts were too small to bring any real pleasure, erratic enough they would be written off as shifts to get comfortable if it wasn't for how you and John knew it definitely wasn't. 

You could already feel your juices dripping, coating your inner thighs and his crotch, probably soaking his trousers. The lewd picture makes your pussy throb around his length again, and you quietly mewl, brows furrowing in frustration as you glare straight forward.

As if to make matters worse, your clit caught perfectly on the rolled-together line of your underwear that pressed into you at the angle John kept you from sinking deeper onto him. The realisation is like a doomsday announcement, as now it's impossible not to notice how your bundle of nerves is throbbing. 

The ache is unbearable, especially as pleasure is within sight, the planes of John's lower stomach pressed right against your mound. With such temptation just a breath away, you wriggle your hips, stuttering a breath when pleasure rushes through your abdomen. 

You start with small movements, yet more calculated than before. But soon, your squirming evolves into grinds that never fully make you sit back on John's lap. 

You reckon that's why he doesn't stop your movements. But what catches you, pleasantly, off-guard is when you feel a slight push of his hand against your backside.

John lazily guides your hips a few times but stops suddenly as if catching himself of what he's doing when his concentration slips from his reading. 

He chastises you with a soft pinch to the skin of your hips, and you know what's coming when he grabs the nape of your neck.

"Thought you said no fuckin'?". He directs your head in front of his. John's eyes have darkened, the good kind, his chest heaving more with each breath.

"I'm a big fat liar. That's what you want to hear?" You're quick to reply, the amusement rising in his blue eyes evident as he rolls his lips between his teeth with a content quirk in their corners before he answers.

"Always a delight when you admit you're wrong".

"Yeah, yeah", you roll your eyes, heat licking up your limbs and spine until pooling in the pit of your stomach. You attempt to quell it by mimicking the same move you'd previously done, but don't get far before John's strong hand anchors you squarely in his lap. The sweet pleasure of him filling you to the brim is momentary as the action keeps you there, fixed.

"Never said I would fuck you. I'm quite satisfied with this arrangement". John Price may be a humble man, but sometimes his cockiness soared when having you at his mercy.

"Piss off".

"Goin' to remain right here", he flashed you a devilish smile before returning to work. 

His blatant disregard makes your mouth fall open as you stare at him. 

You know John saw your reaction from the corner of his eyes, but he was adamant about not acknowledging you. You clench your jaw, sending him a nasty look. 

If that's how he wants to play.

With the single coherent thought that you would get your release, no longer desiring to play into the torture John was putting you through, you decide to make him cave right along with you.

With one hand stabilising yourself on his chest, your other hand slide down beneath your sweater. Your mouth falls open when your fingers brush your clit, faintly feeling how he stretches you open, unabashed moan clawing up your throat and out of your mouth. 

Oh, you saw the twitch of his head and felt his fingers dig into your waist. You knew how much he desired to look at you but remained stubborn enough not to indulge himself.

What must be a delirious-looking smile spread on your face as your mouth remains open, releasing all the soft breaths and whiney moans you'd muffled earlier. He's still keeping a steely grip on your lower half, keeping you from rocking your hips, but you make do with what he can't control. 

You bend forward at the waist, head falling alongside his until you face his throat.

Whereas your previous kisses had been light, worshipping, now they were shy of foul. You don't leave more than a few open-mouthed kisses along his neck as a heads-up before you trace your tongue over the same spots you journey.

You never stop the slow circles over your clit, your heavy breaths fanning over the wet trail you paint against his skin. And with your pleasured sounds so close to his ear, your lips marking him up without abandon as no one but you will be able to see the light marks, a deep groan fills the air.

Silencing your satisfaction that you're slowly tearing his resolve, you release a low whine straight into his ear instead. "John-". 

His facade cracks again, head tilting backwards, and you know he's fighting demons to not give in to your pleasure. But you show him no remorse, chuckling breathlessly over the shell of his ear before nipping his earlobe. 

Laving over the sweet little spot on his neck, right at the angle where his beard fades and beneath his ear, another grunt fills the air as his other hand abandons the computer and shifts to grab you.

With both of his hands now on your hips, you take your unoccupied hand and drag it down his chest, the wiry hair tickling you as your nails catch his nipple. You paw at his chest as you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering, "Going fill me up, John?"

"Jesus-". His gravelly voice, how he gropes and grabs at your soft love handles, hints at the restrained pleasure leaking through the cracks you're creating. It eggs you on, quickening the fingers rubbing your clit as you try to see if he'll let you rock your hips.

Although he clutches your flesh when you start to roll your hips over his thick cock, he doesn't stop you, hands remaining dormant on your ass. And, since you don't get any resistance from John this time, you don't stop.

You flutter around him, your peak moving a lot closer when you sit straight, looking down at the man who showers you with his attention as you rise on your knees in tandem with the rocking of your hips. And that seems to break the last straw of his willpower. 

You thank the heavens when he hastily moves to close his laptop and slides it a bit too aimlessly into the armchair beside the one you're occupying. The amusement in his eyes quickly faded to offer more place for surging arousal.

His uninjured arm rises to settle his hand at the back of your head, tugging you into a kiss as his other hand paces itself as he lowers it, swatting away your hand to overtake the onslaught on your bundle of nerves. As his thumbs find and rub firm circles onto your clit, you moan into his mouth.

John leans away to look at you, watching your features contort in pleasure as your cunt throbs around him. A lazy smirk on his face tells you he has no desire to drag out your or his pleasure any longer. 

He starts moving his hips, meeting each of your falls into his lap, pressing him deeper into you than what you'd managed on your own. John sounded fucking heavenly as a fucked up into you, groans and grunts slipping past his teeth, even if he let you do most of the work, taking it easy with his shoulder. 

"Fuckin' hell, that's my girl". He jerks inside you upon picking up the wet sounds squelching each time the back of your thighs meet his. "Takin' my cock so well after all this time, s'good for me, fuck- missed you havin' you around me". John's head drops backwards just as his hand falls to give your hips a firm squeeze, helping you guide your hips. You whine, clenching around him, slumping against him even if your hands get trapped between your chests.

He feels so good inside you, girthy length stretching you so deliciously, every ridge and vein rubbing against your walls. You pant against his skin, teeth closing on the tendons in his neck, not biting, but the pleasure just feels so good that you barely know what to do with yourself.

"Feisty today, eh?" John's jab is breathless, rasped from the back of his throat. "Hm, get so needy when you don't get my cock".

"John- fuck", your eyes squeeze tightly shut as your sensitivity is upped, orgasm nearing, the digit playing with your clit making you keen. "Feels so good, you feel so good... shit, missed this", you blabber. He groans at your admission, planting his heels more firmly to get more power behind his thrusts.

An involuntary squeak leaves you as the added force makes you slide forward a bit, your arm swinging around his neck on his uninjured side. It's nowhere near as fierce as John otherwise can shove himself deep inside of you, but after this long, he doesn't need to.

One final thrust sends you over the edge, body quivering, thighs squeezing his waist. Your moan breaks into heaving breaths, hips stilling in their up-and-down movement. John's not far behind, manually grinding your hips back and forth before he rolls his hips upwards, praises falling in groans from his lips as he spills inside you.

"Best believe you're not going back to working after this", you sigh into John's neck, having caught your breath just as he slackens beneath you.

He gives you a shakey laugh yet to level his own breathing. "No thought 'bout it", his voice is throaty as his arms curl around your waist.

[cece693]

Stop Talking (Stefan Salvatore x GN! Reader)

Summary: You loved him and he loved you too, but his actions spoke louder than words. Tired of watching him run off to save Elena every time, you understood it would always be her.

tags: heartbreak, short work, breaking up, no happy ending, angst, reader knows better

You loved him, and he loved you too, but deep down, you always knew that compared to Elena, you were nothing. When you first started dating Stefan, you were naive enough to believe that your love would be enough—that you could somehow erase Elena from his heart and mind. But not even a month in, the painful truth began to reveal itself.

Even though Stefan assured you that Elena and Damon were happy together, it was painfully obvious that he was just waiting for them to break up. The moment she was free, he’d be knocking on her door, ready with endless reasons for her to return to his side.

You saw it time and time again—how Stefan would drop everything to run to Elena’s aid whenever she was in trouble, no matter how small the crisis.

There were days when you couldn’t even get out of bed, dark thoughts looming over your head, and Stefan was nowhere to be found. The loss of your mother was a time when you desperately needed your boyfriend’s arms around you, only to discover he was halfway across the country because Elena needed help finding the cure. When you needed him most, he was absent. But god forbid Elena gets a papercut—he would be the first on her doorstep, ready with a band-aid.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you made the hardest decision of your life. You packed your bags and left the Salvatore house without a word to anyone. You couldn’t bear the thought of a confrontation, of hearing Stefan make empty promises, only to fall into his trap once more. Instead, you left a letter, hoping it would explain what you couldn’t say aloud.

When Stefan eventually found the letter, his heart sank as he looked around your room and noticed everything was gone. With trembling hands, he picked up the folded paper on the bed, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. The letter was short, but every word cut through him like a dagger:

I wish I could remain oblivious to what’s occurring, but I can’t keep pretending. I see how you look at her, how you rush to her side whenever she needs you. I know you’ll never love me the way you love her, and I don’t blame you for it, Stefan, but I can’t keep hurting the both of us.

I deserve to be someone’s first choice, and you need to be with the person who provides you with the happiness you deserve. So with a heavy heart, I say goodbye. Don’t try to find me.

As he finished reading, panic gripped Stefan. He immediately grabbed his phone, dialing your number repeatedly, each ring that went unanswered deepening his despair. Desperation took hold as he ran out to the woods, hoping to catch your scent, to find some trace of where you might have gone. But the earth had already swallowed any clues.

He went through town, asking everyone he could think of if they had seen you, if they knew where you might have gone—but no one had any answers. It was as if you had vanished completely, leaving behind only the letter and the ache in his chest.

It was then, in the silence that followed, that Stefan realized his love for you—a love he had been too blind to see, too late to recognize. You were gone, and he was left alone, with nothing but the regret of what could have been.

[bomber-grl]

Enemies to lovers with Leo Valdez

Pairing(s): Leo Valdez x Gn!Reader

If anything it probs stemmed from a misunderstanding

Maybe you were cranky the first two times he ever approached you

And perhaps you may have taken it out on him

And maybe just maybe he thought u were those stereotypical condescending people

Basically what ensued from then on was just you two attacking each other verbally each time you ran into each other

But then you’re officially introduced to him by either Percy or Annabeth or anyone else that’s part of the 7 that’s close to you

He’d be especially shocked if it’s Piper or Jason who introduces you two to eachother

Of course that doesn’t automatically solve anything and you’re both total assholes to each other still

Leo is complaining about you and how could any of his friends also be yours?

You feel the same exact way

And unfortunately this is a case of forced proximity as is all my hcs because I’m an uncreative bitch

Maybe it’s just me but I’d imagine constant bickering and making faces would be a bit hard to ignore and go unnoticed

So they all agree to force you two to get along

So you’re on the Argo ll and are forced to clean the stables

(Before the Athena Parthenos is put there obv)

It’s not messy messy but it’s still something

You two both finally agreed to be quiet

But then he gets almost thrown out the window by the ship getting rocked by a monster or something

And so you have to save him by obligation

You two are literally hanging out the window and Leo is yelling like crazy bro

Eventually you bring him back and he thanks you

It was done reluctantly- you make sure he knows that

Plus the situation gives you material to make fun of him for 💀

Then some time after that you’re fighting some daily monsters and he (despite not rlly being a fighter) helps you out by firing some of the weapons on the Argo

This incident spawns this unspoken alliance??

Literally everyone else is made aware of it too and even they’re confused

But honestly at least you’re not constantly at each others throats anymore

Instances where you saved each others asses continued from then on out

It got to the point where you saved eachother so often that you became literal 4lifers

Like genuinely enjoying each other’s company despite the occasional off handed remarks

There was obvious tension that you were both teased for by your individual friends

Even couch Hedge acknowledged it 💀

And youd both deny it

I mean it was the obvious choice

But there had always been tension between you two if you’re being honest

Like if someone asked you if you thought Leo was cute , well let’s not say you’d say he was, just that you really couldn’t deny it

And so your interactions and dynamic continued all the way until the prophecy that started this quest came to an end

And so did you interacting with Leo

He was dead, and despite having liked him, you’d never be able to tell him.

That’s something you had come to accept, and something you realized you’d never get the chance to admit to him

Until you could.

Leo appears back at camp with Calypso in tow

Let’s just say Leo felt ok about her and saved her cuz he’s a good guy and she went along cuz she wanted an escape)

Anyway like everyone else you line up to hit him

Ain’t no way you’re running to him when there’s so many other ppl infront 💀

Gods forbid YOU end up being the one that gets jumped

Even from the good amount of distance you’re away from him you can still very much see his- what can be best as described- upset demeanor

Why he looked that way? You didn’t know and couldn’t tell even if held at gunpoint

Well anyways eventually you end up face to face with him and his expression can’t even be described with just a few words

So ill try anyway

Hes absolutely star struck and, in truth, made breathless from the sight of you alone

I mean with the way Leo looks at you, you’d think he spotted his only true want in this world.

The guy doesn’t say anything at all but then he sorta gains consciousness (?)

He tries to hug you but then hesitates- tries again/ then hesitates

Before he could do anything else you slap the hell out of him 💀

The act is honestly so violate and loud it was genuinely startling

Some would say that you jumped him that day of his return but what did they know??

And then you hugged him

A deep, emotionally charged hug

All the days you had spent mourning him, being tortured by his death that you couldn’t help but feel was avoidable despite the prophecy-

And yet you couldn’t help but melt into the hug

Obviously awkwardness follows after- and for a good while after too

But in the end you two end up together (per advice from emmie and Jo once Apollo casually mentioned the undefined relationship between you two as defense against a remark Leo had made)

And after Apollo is done at the waystation (and you’re not already involved there)Leo will ask if you’d want to stay there together and go to school and be “normal” teens.

The answer is up to you, but we all know what you’re gonna choose

Cmon you’re reading this so you’re obviously down bad 💀

[nightlyrequiem]

headcanons about jealous, slightly controlling valeria? your writing eats everytime

I love jealous and slightly controlling Valeria...

also thank you :3

Jealous Valeria Headcanons

It doesn't take much for Valeria to feel jealous. She's territorial over everything. Including you. She tries not to make it your problem. She's self-aware enough to recognize that she probably shouldn't be.

But she is. If you're the type of person to wear skimpy or more revealing clothes, she hates it. I mean, she loved it before you started dating because she loves looking at you, but she hates it because other people will look. One of her biggest fears is someone taking that as an invitation to approach you, and you playing into it. Valeria loves you and trusts you to an extent, but she just can't help but worry about you flirting with other people behind her back.

You two have fought over that a few times. when Valeria was feeling particularly testy about an outfit. You're in a relationship, why do you still want to dress like a slut? Valeria knows you're attractive, who else are you trying to impress? By the end you're upset and possibly crying. She feels bad but she doesn't retract her statements. She doesn't stop you from throwing out the outfit she had an issue with.

Valeria also has an issue with your friends. Men? No. Women? Absolutely not. Nonbinary? No. Mostly if they're attractive. If they're people she deems ugly then she's less inclined to be an issue about it. Regardless, she doesn't like it when you hang out with them. If you make plans, she'll try to make you change them. Guilt trip you into staying home. What, do you like them better than her? You got the hots for one of them? Why are you fighting so hard to go be with them?

Valeria has to have the passwords to your phone and social media. She gave you hers so it's only fair. (Except it kind of isn't because she doesn't use social media. she only has the apps you have so she can monitor you.) If you like something or post something she doesn't like she gets all moody. And God forbid you get a random DM. Your account has to be on private. Sometimes, when you're asleep she'll log into your account and go through your followers and who you're following. Removing whoever she sees fit.

You aren't the only one who has to deal with it though. You've lost a few friendships because Valeria went to them without you knowing and threatened them into leaving you. She gets incredibly agitated when you bring it up.

Breaking up doesn't get rid of her either. Break ups are really only temporary breaks in her eyes. If you try to date it won't go over well. She'll do whatever she can to sabotage you. Harming the other girl or threatening to, spreading lies about you, whatever she can to keep you single. If you can't be happy with her you aren't allowed to be happy with anyone else.

And if you somehow manage to get another girlfriend? Oh, Valeria is livid. Valeria will try to charm you back into her life. She doesn't care if you're in a relationship, she had you first. (She is definitely not a girl's girl...) She'll try her hand at emotional manipulation if that doesn't work. "I'm so miserable without you mi Vida..." "I can't sleep knowing you aren't mine anymore..." and the worst "If you don't talk to me I'll hurt myself." She won't. But she's trying to take advantage of that softness in you.

I think some of this is more than slightly controlling but oh well.

[slickfordain]

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐲 ♡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, fragile bottom female reader, I will never do top/dom readers- I only do bottoms as I am a forever bottom, pls don’t forget to read my rules too

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹Nanami⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

Who has absolutely no idea what to do without you by his side.

It’s as if you were his sole reason of being able to work properly if he just had you close to him…. Some may even assume that it’s because your husband loves you so, and it’s true. Nanami does love you like a whole damn lot, giving you princess treatment and all that….

But, it’s also because he has such filthy imaginations every now and then when it involves you. Usually, he prefers you sitting on his lap with your pretty little dress— looking like an absolute doll and sweet. It just makes him sane sometimes…. Especially when your pretty little hole is taking his cock so well. He loves it. You’re such a sweetheart for allowing him to do this with you…. It eases him so much.

Thanks to your dress, nobody can tell that Nanami is slowly and torturously fucking you by humping slightly up and down. It…. It’s a bit hard to control his tone, that he’ll admit. But Gods, he can’t have you off his cock— he needed your greedy tight hole to squeeze him. Every negativity of his needed to be out of his body because Gojo is such a fucking bitch sometimes, an annoying whiny asshole that Nanami can’t help himself but to always wanna relief by having you.

Your sweet little hiccups would sometimes get to him too, and the way you squeak and squirm with your cute beautiful body. He’s so soft and gentle with you….

To the point when he feels your insides squeezing him too tightly, and it’s at the end of his work shift, he’ll have to push you down on the table and creampie you so many times. He’ll sometimes be rough, moving his hips back and forth…. Just slamming his entire cock into you, as you’re whimpering and whining, babbling how you can’t take a cock so big… But Nanami just shuts you up in the most loving way possible, by fucking you so deeply, he moves so inhumanly fast. So fast; he cums so much inside you.

But oh, that’s not enough. Oh no, it’s never enough. You were trying to get some rest since today has been such a “hot” day, but then you’re suddenly dropped onto the floor— and all of the sudden, Nanami held you in a mating press position, suddenly forcing his cock back inside you, fucking you through his own load of seed. You can’t handle it? You can’t take it anymore? Yes you can. Just look at your pretty cum flowing and leaking out of your pussy, your tongue lolling out and your eyes rolling back…. Damn…

… Hah… You’re so gorgeous… Nanami cummed a lot inside you again. Losing your mind, being so far gone, you’re suddenly fucked against the wall…. And then later you know it, against his desk again, and then the exit door that luckily was locked.

Nanami loves your inner flesh tightening around him…. He wanna stuff you full of his white cum and someday, perhaps even breed you more in secret, when he has a meeting with his other colleagues. But he forbids Gojo to find out, because Nanami loathes it when Gojo finds out about everything and will yap it to anyone on the damn street.

You were just gorgeous though… Enough to at least forget about that frustrating day, and, cums again inside you one last time. One last time… One more before you have to at least be ready for another day of his “frustration relief”.

(This is embarrassing, I can’t do smut at all-)

[izukus-shattered-elbow-bones]

When people think/write about adult quirkless deku AU where he never got ofo and never became a hero, that he'd be all rage filled and hate bakugo still.

But I feel there's a lot of missed opportunities where he's not rage-filled and hateful but just awkward and weirded out by the whole situation.

Like imagine you're Izuku, you are now a grown ass man, you are completely over Middle School and all of the events that transpired there, you don't really care about Katsuki.

But the problem is you see his face everywhere. Taking the bus to work? Bam! Childhood bully on a billboard. Trying to watch a YouTube video? Bam! Unskippable ad of your childhood bully trying to sell you cookware.

You go on a hero forum to nerd out and you see a couple posts talking about how "Hot hero Dynamite is", and you just have to remember that this is the same guy who, when you were five, you were at a sleepover together and he peed the bed and you had to help him hide the evidence and agree to never speak of it again.

The whole situation is just so unbelievably awkward. And gods forbid you ever try to talk to anyone about heroes irl.

You start talking about heroes but then they bring up Dynamite and you have to try to change the conversation to a different hero without them getting suspicious. You're doomed if you get into a conversation with someone you find out to be a super fan of his. Or worse, you call him "Kacchan" out of habit and then they look at you weird.

And you're not just going to go around telling people that you grew up with him. Cuz either they don't believe you or they just think you're weird and still salty about your childhood.

You really don't care about him anymore! You just wish he would stop popping up in your life.

[megamindsecretlair]

Let Me Hold You

Pairing: Tyrone x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, virginity loss, shy reader, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink if you squint, Soft Tyrone, all consensual. Mentions of religion, God, and Christian-leaning faith. Sorry if I miss any!

Summary: Ask: ...the reader is a virgin church girl, who, finds herself entangled in a predicament when her parents forbid her to be with the charismatic Tyrone. Despite this, the reader has a genuine friendship with him. They have crushes on each other but do not know how to tell each other.

Word Count: 5,803

A/N: Welp. This healed and broke some things in me! LOL. This was a wonderful ask from @notapradagurl7. I'm SO sorry this took forever to get out, I felt so bad. I hope this was worth the wait. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland

“And we don’t want you hanging out with that - that boy!” Your father paced the living room floor, his loafers kicking up the delicate fibers. 

“What?” You shrieked. Already, fear spiked into your heart. The thought of not seeing Tyrone? It was inconceivable. You looked toward your mother who perched on the end of the plump chair, proper as you please. She kept her eyes on your father. You wouldn’t get any help from her.

“I’m an adult, you can’t ban me from seeing my friends,” you protested. Did he really think he was serious? 

“It’s not appropriate for you to spend time with someone like him. If you’re to entertain anyone, there are plenty of nice young men at the church.” 

“Malcolm just returned from college to be an engineer. I always knew that boy was smart,” your mother chirped in. 

Your eyes darted between your parents. You half expected aliens to burst from their necks. These people were foreign to you. Unique in their united anger for Tyrone, a boy you’ve known your entire life. 

“Judge not lest ye be judged,” you quoted. Your mother scoffed and glared at you as if you said you wanted to shake your ass for Satan’s minions. Your father stopped his pacing and gawked at you. Like you were the foreign one. A daughter he didn’t recognize. 

“No daughter of mine will hang around someone like that boy. Peddling that poison to people in this community,” your father said. 

“That boy has been nothing but nice to us. A boy you watched grow up. A boy you assume is doing dirt,” you countered. What episode of the Twilight Zone was this? 

“I have eyes,” your father said. “And I see what’s going on. All the people running in and out of his house, his mother’s house I might add, and bumping that music…”

“I still live at home. Are you going to judge me for that too?” You asked. Your father pressed his lips together. 

“It’s different for women,” your mother said as if it were a fact. 

You tuned your parents out as they tried to tell you the difference between young men and young women. You didn’t have the heart to listen anymore. Your blood roared in your ears and you stared off into space, trying to calm down. 

You stood up suddenly. You needed to be anywhere but here. Looking into their judgemental faces. You made one mistake. Funny how they didn’t take into consideration all of the times you were a “good girl”. How you minded your Ps and Qs your entire life. Never did anything bad. Never wanted to do anything bad.

And now, they wanted to effectively place you under house arrest. Only leaving for school or church. This was not the stone ages. You couldn’t sit here under this oppressive weight. Constantly holding yourself to a higher standard. 

What higher standard? Did God really think that oppressing women was the ticket into Heaven? Placing all of these restrictions was the ultimate symbol of propriety? What happened to love thy neighbor? 

Your parents called after you, but you kept moving. You’d never defied them. You always deferred to them. They had experiences you didn’t and just wanted you to have a good life. Bullshit. They wanted a little doll to dress up and tote around town. 

At the door, you slipped into your flats and left the house. No purse, no phone, no keys. It felt…invigorating. That type of freedom was intoxicating. Your parents’ indignant shouts followed you out of the house but they didn’t come to the door. 

You took that opportunity to head down the block towards Tyrone’s house. You hoped he was home. You hadn’t had a chance to check your phone before your parents ambushed you.

His house looked dark for once. There were no cars bunched up in front of the house or thumping music coming from the front door. You ran up the steps and knocked on the metal door.

The cold air caught up to you, edging past the heat of your anger. It could only warm you up so far. There were no sounds coming from the house so you knocked again. It was still earlyish but you didn’t want to be loud and disrespect his mom. 

“Yeah,” Tyrone called out sleepily. You suppressed a smile. Just hearing his voice instantly calmed you down.

You heard a series of locks and bolts being undone. Tyrone swung the door open. He called out your name and looked behind you. 

“What’s up? We were s’posed to meet?” He asked.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

“Always,” he said. He moved out of the way and let you enter his darkened house. You took in the space and got a chilling sense of loneliness here. You didn’t know why. Tyrone closed the door and locked it.

“I was sleep. Come on,” he said. He took your hand and led you to his room. Inside, the sudden light gave you a tiny ache in your eyes and you rubbed them. Tyrone sat on his bed, leaning one leg up onto the mattress. 

You remained standing, suddenly shy. You hated feeling unsettled wherever you went. Even in the company of your friends, you paid attention to everything you said. Were you being weird? Were you not talking enough? It was all incredibly awkward whenever you tried to join the conversation and people had already moved on to the next topic. 

“What’s up?” Tyrone asked.

You sighed and recounted everything that happened with your parents. You paced his small but comfy room, poking at random objects on his desk or hanging on his wall. He had wrinkled Lakers posters torn in one corner. You picked at it as you spoke, not wanting to look him in the face while you spoke and ranted and raved about your judgy, overbearing parents. 

Tyrone was a great listener. He never interrupted you, he kept his comments to a minimum, and when you were brave enough to look at him, he’d nod for you to continue. So you did. You told him everything, even the part about your parents judging him for his side hustle. 

“They don’t want you to see me anymore because of that?” He asked. 

You nodded and sat on the bed next to him. “I told them they’re nuts. They can’t ban me from seeing you, I’m not sixteen,” you said.

“You were pretty cute when you were sixteen,” he said.

“Shut up! I’m trying to be serious here!” You pushed his shoulder. He moved as if you were strong, but you knew that he let you. Tyrone had always been an immovable force. He moved through life like it owed him money and he was coming to collect. He had a surety about himself that kept you up all night thinking of him. 

Your hand lingered on his bare arms, taking in his large biceps. His navy tank top hung just so, highlighting his broad smooth chest. He wore his signature black basketball shorts and you quickly removed your hand. You should not be having these thoughts about your best friend. 

“I’m serious too!” He said and chuckled. He quickly sobered up and glanced at you. “I’d miss you if I couldn’t see you.” 

You smiled slowly. “You’d only miss the chips I bring you,” you said. 

“Naw, I’d miss you. I’d have to stage a breakout or something,” he said. 

You laughed, picturing hopping into Tyrone’s getaway car just to drive a few houses down. Bonnie and Clyde ya’ll were not. 

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “There’s nothing that can keep us apart,” you said. You stuck out your pinkie finger. Tyrone looked at it and laughed, shaking his head and licking his lips. 

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, so you know I’m serious,” you said. You pushed your hand into his chest to urge him to do it with you. He shook his head again and wrapped his pinkie around yours. 

“So what you gonna do since they dropped the hammer?” Tyrone asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said. You tucked your legs under you, holding down your dress so no one got a free show. You played with the hem. “I wish they’d see me as an individual instead of an extension of their dead hopes and dreams.” 

“I feel that. You’re just gonna have to prove that you grown now,” he said with a shrug. 

“There’s nothing I can do. They’ll only see me as a goody two shoes who’s always ready with a smile. Like, I don’t have feelings or something? I’d have to rob a bank or have…” You trailed off as the intrusive thought came to you. 

You became very interested in your dress as you played with the rolled hem. “Have what?” Tyrone prompted.

You hummed and shrugged. “Lost my train of thought. Point is, I’m tired of living and dying by their own expectations,” you said. 

The thought didn’t leave you though. In fact, the more you turned it around in your head, the hotter it got in the room. Your imagination ran away from you, providing images of a naked Tyrone standing over you. Bending you over. Calling you dirty names. You shifted on the bed as the images became a little too vibrant.

You usually indulged in your fantasies late at night, safe and comfortable in your head where no one would know except you. It was harmless to be as nasty as you wanted, getting yourself worked up and needy but ultimately not doing anything about it. Could you imagine trying to order a sex toy and have it sent to the house? Trying to hide the buzz buzz as you got yourself off? It was either the towel on the pillow or your own fingers but once you felt awkward, it was hard to get back into the mood. 

“So don’t live by their expectations. What do you wanna do?” He asked. 

You glanced at him. He treated it as seriously as possible and that only made your heart melt. He was the bestest friend you could have hoped for, growing up together. But would you always be someone he grew up with? Forced to talk about his conquests over and over and wishing it were you? 

You licked your lips and faced him. You sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. Your heart thundered in your chest. You felt the steady beat all over, thumping in your arms and in your head. Now or never. 

“What would you say to a crazy idea?” You asked. 

Tyrone shifted to allow you more room on the bed. “What kind of crazy idea?” He asked slowly. 

You smiled at the mistrust in his voice. You were kind of known for some out of pocket schemes. It was not your fault that Mrs. Edwards came home early that one time. How were you supposed to know? 

You lost a bit of your nerve, looking down at your fingers. You gripped your dress hard, your fingers pressing the thin fabric. “What would you say if I asked you to take my virginity?” 

You risked a glance at him. He was frozen solid, gaping at you. After a moment, he blew out a breath. “Wait, what?” 

“I am tired of doing what people expect of me. Nothing is ever good enough and I never get anything out of the deal. I want something for myself. I want to have sex. I want to have sex with you,” you said. 

He tilted his head so you forged on, explaining why you wanted to have sex. “And I know it might be a little weird considering we’re friends but I’m pretty sure you’re not seeing someone right now? Right? Because I’d rather it be with someone I trust, at least the first time…” You rambled. You were rambling and you couldn’t make yourself stop. You heard the words. You said the words. But you couldn’t find a way to disconnect your brain from your mouth. “And you’re totally free to say no. Like, we can totally forget I asked.” 

After you crawled into a cave or yeeted yourself off of a cliff, surely you could be around Tyrone and not think of this stupid situation. 

You opened your mouth to ramble more because he was just sitting there, but he captured your lips with his. His hands cupped your jaw and pulled you into it, moving your lips against his. Your hands gripped his, but not to push him away. You held him there and kissed him back. Tyrone ran the tip of his tongue to trace around your lips. You gasped and he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how long I been wanting to do that,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“Wait, what?” You asked. Your head was pleasantly fuzzy. Like you were full of fluffy clouds. “You’ve been wanting to kiss me?”

“Every time I see you. You got kissable lips,” he said. He made his point by kissing you again, humming low in his throat. He pulled away and ran his thumb across your lips. Each pass of his lips on yours or his calloused fingers on you only made your head fuzzier. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling yourself get more and more worked up.

“Why didn’t you ever say? Especially after ninth grade!” There was once upon a time where you two had danced at the high school you attended. You had found a dark-ish corner away from the chaperones and told Tyrone that you’d never been kissed. He had laid one on you, probably not well now that you thought about it, but it had been so precious to you. He ended it by saying, “Now you have”, and walked away. 

The memory was always bittersweet. But hell, it was still your first kiss. 

“I was a dumb ass kid. I didn’t know how to tell you I liked you more than a friend,” he said. 

Warmth spread from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. This lonely torch you’d been holding for Tyrone wasn’t one sided. You looked into his molten brown eyes and smiled, not knowing how to properly process this new information.

In fact, it blew you away that you were here at this moment. Who knew your holier-than-thou parents were good for something? 

“And now?” You asked.

Tyrone removed his hands from your face and you missed them instantly. He grabbed one of your hands, pulling it across his lap so that you could cup him. You gasped at the sheer size of him. Despite common myths, you have seen a dick before. But you’d never touched one. Held one. Sucked on one. 

Your mouth went dry at the thought. You wanted to suck him, but what if you were bad at it? Your lip rolled in between your teeth and you bit down, wondering the mechanics of it all. 

“Well, you did ask me for something huge. Are you sure?” He asked. His voice held a strange, raspy quality to it. You flicked your eyes back to him and he was breathing a little faster. Oh shit, he really did like you. How the hell did you miss it? 

“I’m very sure,” you said. You pressed your hand in more, stroking him over his basketball shorts. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he opened them and grinned at you. 

“I’ll do it. But I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me if you don’t like something or if you want to stop, okay?” 

You nodded. “I promise. I’m a big girl, I can use my words,” you said. Your hands still moved over him and you must’ve been doing something right because his breaths left him in quick bursts. He rubbed his face and gripped his jaw, eyes tightly shut. 

“Okay, okay,” he said. He stilled your hand on him and moved it off. “Okay, okay. Virgin. Have you done anything? Gotten eaten out?” He asked.

You sighed and shook your head. “Yeah, I just snuck them up to my room while my dad was busy in the kitchen,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled. “Okay, smart ass. Give me a minute. I’m like…I don’t wanna just jump on you even though I want to,” he said. He stood up and rubbed his hands together, jumping in place. 

You giggled. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one,” you said. And you were! Your nerves were shot. Your hands trembled thinking of what the hell you were about to get into. You had fantasized it so many times, wondering who it would be. Sometimes wishing it were Tyrone. And while you didn’t think it would be all glitzy like they do in the movies, you did think you’d be married. Or at least in a steady relationship.

As you looked at Tyrone though, you were glad it was with someone you were comfortable with. Someone who took your usual anxiety from 100% to about 65%. 

Tyrone smirked. “If you knew the thoughts I be having about you…you might run out that door,” he said. “I’m trying to do this right.” 

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t treat me like some glass doll,” you said. You titled your head and stared him down. “You forgetting I know all your nasty little secrets?” 

Tyrone chuckled and squeezed your hand. “Shut up. That’s different. I ain’t care about them, but I do care about you. Don’t ever treat this shit as casual,” he said. 

You sucked your teeth. “Not you too. I promise, I’m not going around opening my legs for any man that wants it,” you said. You were about to go on a tirade about how it was your body and your rules. Tyrone shut you up with another kiss, tugging on your bottom lip. 

“The thought of anyone else in between your legs makes me angry,” he whispered against your lips.

“Angry?” 

He nodded and continued to kiss you, sliding his hands up and down your arms. His warm, big hands chased away any lingering chill from outside. He slowly knelt so that he wasn’t bending at an awkward angle. 

His knees sank to the floor and he nestled himself in between your thighs. His hands continued to travel down, squeezing your hips, your outer thighs. Your hands held on to his shoulders, kneading and massaging his back. He moaned into your mouth and a delicious tingle went up your spine. 

“Mhm, so don’t say that shit no more,” he said. 

“You can’t expect…”

His hands crept closer to your pussy and you ended your sentence on a squeak. Heat rose up your neck and cheek. “Relax,” he said. You took a few deep breaths, nodding, but you were as stiff as a board. Tyrone stopped moving his hand and kept it on your thigh.

“You gotta relax. And let me do this for you,” he said. His thumb pressed into your thigh and your body caved in. He somehow zeroed in on a knot and his thumb worked it out. “Oh fuck,” you said. 

“Mhm, you’ll feel better in a minute. But you gotta relax for me,” he said.

Sure, as if you could snap your fingers and relax. Wouldn’t you know it, anxiety was a light switch you could flick on and off at your leisure. Tyrone must’ve seen your thoughts play across your face, because he chuckled. 

“Do you have any fuckin’ idea how sexy you are?” He asked.

“What?” You asked. The question caught you off guard. You knew you were gorgeous, you knew you were working with some thick thighs and a pretty tummy. But sexy? Somehow, you missed the memo about sex appeal. You swore that guys could see “virgin” stamped across your forehead.

“Mhm. Whenever you walk out the house in one of these dresses, I just keep picturing how you look underneath. If that pussy nice and pink and wet.” His voice went deeper, harsher, bringing with it dark, carnal promises.

Your thighs tingled. Your hands shook. You bit your bottom lip to keep from moaning like a ho. Tyrone kissed your jaw, then moved up to your ear. “You nice and wet for me? You want me to play with it right?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, play with it,” you said.

Tyrone moved his hand up. Your thighs were burning hot from where they rested against each other. Tyrone nudged you to open your legs. He hummed while he kissed along your ear. “I wonder if you taste as good you feel.”

You dropped your head against him. “You can’t be saying shit like that,” you said.

“Look at you, with your little potty mouth,” he said.

“Shut up, Tyrone!” 

He only laughed and finally, blessedly, reached your core. He played with the edges of your panties, seeing the way you squirmed and moaned. He slipped his finger past the material and cursed under his breath.

“Damn, all of that for me? How you gon’ run home to Daddy with panties this soaked?” Tyrone asked.

You stuttered out a response. How were you supposed to form a coherent sentence when his fingers were on you? His fingers glided in between your slick folds, pushing past your pussy lips, and tracing the outside of your clit.

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your mouth dropped in a tiny little ‘o’ and Tyrone’s eyes narrowed as he took in your expression. He kissed you once, too quickly for your taste, and smirked at you.

“You gotta stop being so damn cute,” he said. “Makes me want to do all kinds of nasty shit to you.” 

You moaned, picturing those disgusting things. His thumb rubbed over your clit and you scrunched up your face in pleasure. 

How was it that this felt infinitely different and better than when you did it to yourself? He knew exactly what to do, taking cues from your moans and grunts and pretty gasps. You sent up a prayer, thankful that this was with someone experienced. Then again, God probably wasn’t listening right about now.

Tyrone traced slow circles on your clit. You looked through your lashes at his smug face. He knew he was driving you wild. You hissed and jerked when he got to a particularly sensitive spot. “Shh, shh, breathe,” he said. 

He held your gaze as you took in deep breaths. Your belly flipped and tightened, the beginning stirrings of something naughty making its way to the surface. Your gaze traveled down. Tyrone’s hand was completely under your dress. It was somehow hotter that you couldn’t see what he was doing to you.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” You moaned.

“Mhm, pray to him for mercy. Because you ain’t gettin’ that shit from me,” Tyrone’s raspy voice was like its own arrow of desire. Your thighs shook. Your feet dangled over the side of the bed. Your toes curled. 

“Tyrone, please,” you said. You gripped his shoulders. His smooth brown skin shone with its own light. 

“Let me take these panties off,” Tyrone said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said. 

Tyrone stopped rubbing your clit. “No,” you growled. What the hell was he doing? You were so close! Your belly still felt tight, overripe like at any moment you would burst. 

Tyrone chuckled and lifted your dress. The fabric drew across your thighs like scorching fire. You hissed. You were on a precipice and any movement would hurt or hinder. You didn’t want to find out which. 

Tyrone pushed your dress up to your hips. Then, he grabbed the top of your panties and moved it down. He held you as you lifted up and slipped them off your ass. He smiled. “Never thought I’d get to see you like this,” he said.  

“I’m glad it’s you,” you said and smiled.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said. “Remember to breathe for me.”

He kept your gaze as he pushed your legs over his shoulders. He grabbed your hips and pulled you forward until your ass was half hanging off of the bed. You cried out and he kissed your thighs until you calmed down.

Your heart beat in your pussy. The throb throb throb drove you mad. You were needy. You needed something more, anything more. 

Tyrone blew a breath across your wet pussy and you cried out, jerking your hips. Tyrone only locked his arms around you, curling his biceps around your thigh. “Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Tyrone flattened his tongue and licked you from your pussy to your clit and back down again. A choppy moan left you. Your back bowed off of the bed. Your hands gripped the front of your dress. It wasn’t enough to hold so you moved your hands down to grip the bunched up hem. 

He ran his nose through your folds. He inhaled. “Smell so fuckin’ good, got damn,” he said. “Pretty ass pussy.”

He then drew his tongue in a slow circle around your clit. Locked as you were, he didn’t leave room for movement. You barely wiggled. Squirmed underneath his sinful tongue. With each new circle, he moved in closer. He tongued you closer to your clit and you whined and moaned and cried.

Your belly tightened once more. A cresting inferno built and built, radiating waves of heat throughout your body. 

Somehow, this too was more potent coming from him. Your body jerked out of your control, twitching every which way, as he created magic around your clit. He slurped up your juices. Slurped it loudly and greedily. He tongued it all down, getting his juicy lips wet with your essence.

You spoke in tongues, muttering and chirping. Tyrone’s tongue moved downwards, rimming your entrance and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh god. Oh fuck. Tyrone, Tyrone,” you moaned. Your hands flexed. You searched for Tyrone’s head, his neat cornrows were going to get messed up tonight. You palmed him anyway, pushing his head into your pussy and started to gyrate on his mouth. 

“Mhm, mhm,” he encouraged. “That’s my good girl.”

You came with a loud yell. You could barely breathe. The sounds and words were dragged out of you. A hidden instinct buried in your DNA to say something, to help ride this awe-inducing wave. A flood of pleasure moved through you. 

Tyrone held you down through it all. His biceps flexed with your movements back and forth. He still ate you out, flicking his tongue around your nub. 

“F-f-f-.” Fuck it, you couldn’t say it. 

You flopped onto the bed, spent. You moaned as you twitched and calmed down. Tyrone leaned up. You looked at him. His face was slick across his jaw. A spit chain drooped. He licked his big lips and moaned.

“Ready for this dick?” He asked.

You sniffled and nodded. “Please. Please, I'm so ready,” said.

“You don't’ need a break?” He asked.

“Hell naw. Please,” you said. 

He nodded and placed a wet kiss on your thigh. He cleaned off his face on his tank top. He stood up. He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a sitting position. You put your chin on his stomach and looked up at him. 

He sighed and rolled his neck. “What I tell you about lookin’ so cute?” He asked. 

“I can’t help being cute,” you said. 

“Lyin’ ass. Yes, you can,” he said.

You sucked your teeth. “How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Ion know. Burp or something,” he said.

You giggled and hugged him around his middle. You grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. 

“You really have no idea,” he whispered. You grinned. 

He stepped back and pulled off his shorts. His dick bobbed twice, standing at attention. He was definitely thick and long and perfect. Your shyness tried to budge back in. Your heartbeat sped up thinking of that getting inside of you. 

He twisted and leaned over. You admired his body as his muscles bunched. He was solid, stocky. A thick man with amazing thighs and ass. Cool air blew across your pussy and you bit your lip. Fuck. 

He grabbed a condom. Watching him was its own brand of sensual torture. His fingers moved deftly to open the package. He rolled on the condom, pulling the latex over the length of him. He pinched the top. 

He stalked closer, running his eyes over you. “Let me take this dress off,” he said.

You smiled and nodded. He helped you pull it off. Your bra went next. “You’re so damn sexy,” he said. 

He palmed your breasts, rubbing and pushing them together. He leaned down and brought your nipples into his mouth. He moved between your boobs, suckling and placing that warm mouth around the peaks. 

Your legs jerked up. You wrapped them around his waist. His shirt got trapped beneath your legs. He pulled it out and the shirt draped across his chest. His dick brushed against you and you cried out. He was so close to giving you what you needed. Your nails dug into his sides. He ignored you. He played with your nipples until you were a bumbling, squirming mess. 

“T-T-Tyrone,” your teeth chattered.

“Mhm, I know. Ready for me?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Sure?” He asked. He rubbed his dick through your arousal. You soaked him instantly. There was so much on you. The cool air hit across it on your skin. You knew exactly how much of a mess you made. It made you hornier. How did you go through life without this? Without this feeling?

Without this obsession running in your veins. This deep-seated need. This lustful shot of adrenaline threatening to burn your skin off. 

Tyrone’s hand wrapped around your hip. His other hand guided his dick towards your entrance. He pushed in and you gasped. He slipped in thanks to how wet you were. But fuck! He filled you completely. 

“Breathe,” he commanded. He stopped and moved his shirt out of the way. “You gotta breathe.”

You nodded. He helped you take deep breaths. “That’s right. Be a good girl for me. Good girls get dick,” he cooed. 

That should piss you off. But you wanted to be a good girl for him. You wanted to listen and get praised some more. 

Your breathing evened out. Tyrone leaned down and kissed you. As he kissed you, he pushed in. Your hand flew to his chest, pushing at him. Fuck. It kind of hurt, but it was a good hurt? You could tolerate him pushing in. You clenched around him and he hissed. 

He sank inch by inch into you. He cursed the whole time. “Fuck, feel too good. Feel too good,” he muttered. “Gripping the shit out of me.”

The praise made you moan and you clenched around him. A drop of his sweat fell onto your chest. Your own sweat slick skin pebbled in the cool air. 

Tyrone moved out and then pushed back in. The slide in would hurt briefly but then morph into pleasure as you felt him move inside of you. He was deep, stretching you out. Molding your pussy to the curve of his dick. 

He began to speed up. He flipped his shirt up and held it in his mouth. He moaned. “Can still smell you,” he said, though his voice was muffled. 

Both hands held onto your waist. He moaned as he sank deeper, you welcoming him better. “You okay?” He asked.

“Yuh,” you nodded. 

“Sure?” 

“Yu-uh,” you moaned. He was doing nothing more vigorous than moving back and forth, but he felt amazing. He filled you up. He hit that deep seat of emptiness inside of you. A place you hadn’t been able to get to on your own.

The feeling brought tears to your eyes. He twisted and brought you down on his dick a little faster. “Ohmygod,” you cried. He reached a spot that made you explode all over him. 

You cursed the heavens, you cursed hell. You cursed the world in between. You felt large. Humongous. You felt like you could grab the world with both hands. Power and pleasure suffused you. You moaned out loud, heedless of anyone who could hear. 

“Oh fuck, so tight,” Tyrone hips jerked. His fingers dug into your hips. The pressure made you moan. He jerked and thrusted one more time, going as far as he was able, and you felt him pulse inside of you.

You imagined him filling you up with his cum. You moaned as the thought made your pussy throb. Tyrone twitched and panted on top of you. He left you slowly, sliding out in a way that wouldn’t hurt you.

You missed him immediately. He wiped his sweat on his shirt and took off the condom. He tied it and threw it in a nearby trashcan. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You flopped onto the bed. Looked up at the popcorn ceiling. Were there words to describe how okay you were? How fantastic you felt? “So good,” you murmured. 

And you did feel really good. You expected to feel shame after having sex. You’d avoided it for so long, you started to feel like a freak for still being a virgin at your big age. But you didn’t. You were mostly sore. You were going to feel this in the morning and right now, you couldn’t care less. 

Tyrone left for a moment and you just focused on your breathing. On trying to recapture that euphoric feeling of that orgasm. Chasing after it like the wayward string of a balloon. 

He returned and placed a warm cloth against your pussy. You hissed at the unexpected sensation. He cooed at you while he cleaned you up. You smiled at him. “You didn’t have to,” you said.

“Yeah, I did. I was raised to clean up after myself,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He left once more, getting rid of the washcloth. He took off his shirt and hopped into bed with you, pulling you chest to chest. He rubbed your back and looked into your eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he said.

“You are,” you said. You bumped his nose. 

“How you really feelin’?” He asked.

“Honestly? I feel really good. Sore, but tired.” 

“Would you want to do it again?” He asked.

“Hell yes! Are you kidding? There’s so much I want to try,” you said.

Tyrone laughed, shaking his head. He pecked you on the lips. He moaned and then pressed in for longer, licking your bottom lip and rolling it between his teeth. 

“Mm, does that mean I can get back in that pretty pussy?” He asked.

You caressed his cheek. Running your thumb across his supple skin. “That’s exactly what that means.”

&&&

Psst, there's more! The Secret Tyrone Files

[tmwcs]

WHAT IS UR OPINION ABT THIS HEE😣😣😣 He is so attractive!!!! and the ERGHH BICEPS💪💪💪 IM REALLY WEAK WHEN IT COMES TO THIS🧘🧘

btw how are U😁

Warning; extreme non/dub con content below. This is a little one shot within the TO series (ongoing) I would highly recommend you read the chapters of TO (The Otherside) before reading this, otherwise you might just get confused. This is heavy duty yandere love. Mentions of murderer/serial killer (if you know…you know).

You threw everything you could grip your hands on. Smashing all of his collectables on the floor, you rampaged his entire studio apartment and tore everything in sight. What else was new? You snapped…again.

“Are you done?” He asks as he stands with his arms crossed, not even bothered by the amount of damaged you had just caused.

You breathe out heavy pants as he smears away the glistening beads of tears from your cheeks. Why did he have to do this to you? Why can’t he just let you go? Why did he have to do all those terrible things, yet claim it is all out of his unyielding love and affection? Is being forced on and contained away from the world really love? You don’t know anymore. It’s been so long since you saw fresh faces, and heard different voices, apart from his friends; the cannibal and the rapist. You fell into a state of hopelessness and gave in, even after jumping back and trying to fight it once more. But just as usual, he stands tall and defiant, with that damn smirk on his face. He knows he will win at the end. The man who saved you from being butchered by your original captor, has become the one who holds the key to your freedom and the life you once had. He, your savior, he took it all away from you. You don’t know which one is the lesser of two evils. After being forced upon time after time, hearing his whispers of love and obsession as he grunts in your ear and pounds into you relentlessly and making you scream, not out of fear or hatred…you wish it were that. Instead, he made you scream out of pleasure and yearning for more. He made you desire for more of it, and when after each session was finished, you fell into a state of regret and hated yourself. You hate yourself for caving in and holding on to him as he finished off deep inside your body while he tenderly kisses you, taking full advantage of your mind and soul being lost and confused from the isolation. You don’t even know who you are anymore. What can be done? Other than to oblige by his words. You finally give a slight nod as you started to sob once more.

“Good.” He merely responds as he chuckles, stroking his thumb over your quivering lips as he affectionately shushes you. “You’re just tired. Don’t worry, we’ll get a house with a nice yard for you to play in. You just need some air.”

A yard? A funking yard?! Why does he do this to you? Can’t he see that this was so wrong? Why is he being so blind and nonchalant?

“I love you.” He cuts your thoughts mid way and presents you his hands forming a heart shape. “I love you so much. Nobody is going to hurt you or try and take you away. I won’t let anyone do harm to you, okay? Now…”

He wipes your tears and shushes your lips once more. “I’ll take you outside for some air, maybe even get you a treat…but you have to be good and calm. You know the rules baby. You going to be a good girl? Hm?”

You begrudgingly nodded. He won…like always. What could you do? Even when he took you out, there was no chance of escape, not with his cunning little gadgets he had custom made to keep you connected to him, or tracked. God forbid if you started to cry or scream out for help, the first time he took you out, roughly three months in your captivity, you made the dire mistake of trying to reach out to a local police officer, in which Heeseung effortlessly dismissed as he lied to the officer and claimed he had just picked you up from the hospital and that you were feeling the affects of some narcotic medications. He proved it by cunningly having a forged prescription already in hand. He already knew and planned for anything you may have had up in your sleeve, that slick bastard. After providing the false prescription to the officer, you paid for your mistake regretfully. He left you in a sealed room and darkened room for days, maybe even weeks. Each moment he came to check on you, it was to bend you over on his lap to spank you, but not in the way that may seem alluring. You were in so much pain, the sting was unbearable, thank God there weren’t any marks, though he made sure of that since he didn’t want to ruin your pretty little skin, just wanted you to understand the pain of you breaking the rules. If it wasn’t the spanking, it was him using his little toys on you, causing you extreme pain from overstimulation as he repeatedly tied you up and fiddled with your cavity until the soreness caused you to cry out and apologize.

He grabs your jacket and places it over your shoulders. “It’s a little windy babe.” He smirks once more. “Let’s go out for a walk, and get you a pastry. After that we’ll come home and clean you up, and if you’re still good we’ll watch a movie. Would you like that?” An eerie smile forms on his heart shaped lips. You step back out of fear as his eyes darkened and his laugh grows louder and malicious. Oh no…not that….anything but that side of him. For a moment, through his calm demeanor you forgot the real side of your savior.

“Let’s come back and watch a movie, I’ve got so many homemade films baby.” His wicked countenance hinted at what those films were. He made you watched them before…the films of when he brought you here and raped you, yet you succumbed to the pleasures and begged him to keep going. You hated those films, yet he loved watching and pointing out how you were desperate for him to keep going. “Let’s watch them snd listen in to how you kept begging for my dick to scramble your insides. Maybe it will get you wet enough so we can make another one.” He tugs on your waist as you try to peel yourself away. “Yes baby. You love it when I fuck you and bounce you on it. Don’t you?”

“No!!”

He begins to tear your blouse apart. “You love it when I suck on your tits and lick your neck.”

“Stop!! No!! Don’t!!!!”

“You love it when I make you cream on my dick.”

“Noooooo!!!!! Stop!! I don’t want this!!! Let go! Stop!”

………………

*squeak squeak squeak*

“Ugh! Ffffff-uck!”

“Yeah? You fucking like that baby?”

“Mmmmm….!”

“You want me to go in deeper?”

“Uuuuuugh…!”

“Say it, you beautiful bitch.”

“D-deep…deeper!”

“Yeah? That feel good y/n?”

“Y-yes!…oh God yes…”

“Come here baby, let’s fuck you harder.”

[sp0-t]

JOHNNY “SOAP” MCTAVISH

(ideas wanted, needed, and encouraged! Inbox is open)

Johnny was always “a character” that’s how many people described him in your town. Johnny was like that one cousin that you don’t talk about, that your parents would nudge you and give you a look to “shut up”. It was as if speaking his name was a taboo, or sin, well it basically was. Your small town was very religious, centered their lives around god and church, and lord forbid anyone step out of line in that routine.

So you never did, you stayed in line like everyone else cause well that’s what god would want you to do, so you did it happily. However, why would your town want to shun someone away so bad, shun them from others and especially even god. Why could even god not lay his eyes on such a man he created?

Johnny was “different”, he was difficult and hard headed. Nobody liked that about him. You, and everyone else your age in town that grew up with Johnny, were told to distance to “be only necessarily nice.” This resulted in Johnny being the outcast of the town, when you were younger you knew he would get bullied, but ever since he knocked out one of them nobody messed with him. This had its pros and its cons, one one hand he wouldn’t get messed with anymore, and on the other the whole town now labeled him as “dangerous”, someone not safe to be around the other children.

Johnny was distant due to this, kept even more to himself. When high school hit he was know as the “bad boy” the “delinquent” even a “criminal”. The last one was due to Johnny stealing a lighter once and getting caught, it also didn’t help that he drives a motorcycle now that he was 18. In both of your senior years everyone started to notice just how attractive Johnny actually was, how he had grown into his looks and even gained weight in all the right places. This lead to him being invited to some parties, secretly of course, everyone thought he’d just walk in and come as he pleased.

You saw yourself as a good religious child growing up, you behaved well and were above average in school. But you thought maybe you deserved a bit of fun, it was the week before finals, you knew you should’ve been at home studying but you couldn’t help but give into the temptation.

You went with your group of friends to try and get your mind off of the upcoming week. Once you got to the party most of your friends all spread out throughout the house. You weren’t the most popular kid but you definitely weren’t the least, you saw some other people you knew and went to meet with them. You talked for a while and ended up finding yourself at a beer pong table, watching the current game going on. It was between the known jock of the school, who was also the host, and another one of his teammates.

You looked around the room and spotted someone you hadn’t expected to see. There was Johnny in the corner of the room looking down at the game going on. You looked away quickly in case he tried to catch your gaze. The game finished with the head jock being the victor, excitingly putting his arms up in the air.

“Who wants to challenge me next huh!”

You were shoved forward by one of your friends, before you could step back into the crowd to hide yourself, he spot you.

“Hey, hot stuff! You think you’re ready for the challenge?”

You tried to speak to the obviously drunk jock before someone else’s voice stepped in.

“I am, if ya ‘ave the balls to give it a go.”

He glances from you back to Johnny, when a smirk forms on his face

“Sure Johnny boy, but, it’s 2 verses 1. I get hot cakes over here and you can stay over there.”

You feel his hand land on your waist as you get tugged closer into his side.

“And what do you get if you win.”

“If I win, I get the keys to the nice bike you got sitting outside.”

…

“Sure. but if I win, I get that nice piece of eye candy you got on ‘ur arm.”

“Hey! I never-“

“Deal.”

This was going to be a long night

💿: HEY! SO P.S. I ABSOLUTELY HATE THIS STORY! I DONT THINK I WROTE IT WELL AND I THINK IT JUST SUCKS IN GENERAL IM SO SORRY, even though that wasn’t all of it. But I just really hate it. Anyways, if you guys take a stroll through my page you’d see I have absolutely nothing for soap, and it makes me so sad cause I absolutely love soap both in game and in the fandom. So this is a tiny cry for help for ideas/story prompts for soap.

I am trying to find a good prompt or idea for soap but I feel like some of the ones I have came up with are already so common that it would wind up being too repetitive or predictable. (not saying that they’re bad!!)

I won’t leave you guys with nothing though so I wrote a bit of soap for my sake to try and get ideas as well as to finally get the need to write for soap out of my system.

written by: @sp0-t ©️

[rillils]

post fall bucky having a fear of heights?? ive always thought that he'd be afraid of heights, like he wasnt afraid of it at all before his fall, go ask steve. but after falling?? he tries to hide it from steve, how scared he is.. and steve, bless his poor soul, he blames himself for not realizing sooner, he thinks he shouldve known, he couldnt possibly have. hes always seen bucky as this brave courage man, and bucky didnt want to ruin steve's image of him worse than he already think he did. and oh my fucking god

THE POST PLANE CRASH STEVE BEING AFRAID OF TIGHT SPACES?? BECAUSE IT BRINGS HIM BACK TO FEELING THE COLD SEEP IN THROUGH HIS VERY BONES WHILE HE GETS CRUSHED BY ALL THE WATER, ICE, AND DEBRIS?? DONT GET ME STARTED OH MY GOD

HONEY I FEEL LIKE YOUR LEVEL OF CRUELTY TOWARDS ME SPECIFICALLY IS REACHING DANGEROUS LEVELS HERE

but I get it, I getchu hon, sometimes we just gotta put the blorbos in a Situation™, that's how we roll.

but holy shit 😭😭😭

I mean god, Bucky-

imagine how tough it must be for him, every time they're on a mission, 'cause he's first and foremost a sniper, isn't he? and for him, that often involves perching on the roof of really high buildings, and keeping as still as possible for as long as necessary - and above all, keeping a steady hand, because what is a sniper supposed to be if not precise and lethal and reliable?

and factor in all the other possible contingencies, too! like having to bolt if he's spotted by the enemy, and having to climb back down in a rush. or helping chase after the bad guys from rooftop to rooftop. or when, god forbid, they have to jump out of a plane and parachute themselves to a certain site.

it's an absolute nightmare for Bucky, but he just keeps trying to tough it out, right? grit his teeth, push through even when his flesh palm is clammy with sweat, even when his stomach is churning and his legs feel like jelly, even when his hands start shaking despite his best efforts to hold them still. it's scary and mortifying all at once, and he can't bring himself to say anything about it to anyone, especially to Steve. because he knows Steve would try to suggest he take it easy and stay behind, while Steve himself is out there risking his neck, and the very notion makes Bucky feel sick.

so he's just desperately hanging in there, right?

until something happens. he's dizzy, his hands are shaking too bad, he flubs a shot, Steve almost gets killed because of it. Bucky snaps. this is the last straw. he's done.

I mean, imagine how it must tear. him. apart. how horribly it must hurt him to admit to himself that he can't go on like this anymore. because on the one hand, fuck it all to hell, he's supposed to be by Steve's side! watch his six, protect him, make sure he makes it home in one piece! it's what Bucky's been doing ever since they were kids, it's a fundamental part of who he is! to even imagine letting Steve walk into a fight alone - no, not 'alone', without Bucky - is unthinkable. it's like denying himself a basic need. like denying who Bucky is, what he feels he was born to do, a biological imperative.

but. on the other hand, the thought of putting Steve in danger, of Steve getting hurt (or worse) because Bucky couldn't do his job properly, is even more unbearable.

Steve counts on him, trusts him with his life - as he should be able to do, if they're going to be a team - but how can Bucky allow that anymore, now that he can't even trust himself? how can he be what Steve needs, if he's going to let him down when Steve needs him the most? how would he ever forgive himself if something happened to Steve because of him?

he barely holds himself together until they get home, and then he just, he breaks down. stumbles over to the couch, crumples in on himself, trembling, pale like a ghost, taking in big gulps of air like he'll drown otherwise. telling a worried Steve, who's crouching next to him in a heartbeat, "I can't do this anymore".

now Steve, he had noticed that something was off for a while now, and Bucky's words just confirm what he already suspected. he thinks, of course Bucky's sick of this, of course he doesn't want to fight anymore - god knows he's got plenty of reasons to want to leave all this shit behind.

Steve could never imagine what the actual issue is, here - not until he's trying to tell Bucky that it's his right to retire if that's what he wants, that of course Steve supports him, and Bucky interrupts him to confess, in between sobs, where exactly the problem lies, and how he fears he's no longer fit to accompany Steve on missions, 'cause he'd risk becoming a liability rather than backup.

CUE A WHOLE SHITTON OF FEELS because fuck, how long has Bucky been feeling this way, and how did Steve not realize it sooner, and the way Steve's face twists with guilt when he wonders where this fear of heights might come from, and gives himself the most obvious amd most fucking heartbreaking answer, and Bucky can tell that he's hurting and blaming himself and they're just BOTH hurting and blaming themselves and hfgskfjskks HONEY WE'RE SPEEDRUNNING THROUGH ALL THE STAGES OF GRIEF HERE HELP

no, but. they're gonna have an honest conversation about this, okay? painful, yes, but also liberating. they're going to air out some of that hurt, and actually let it heal out in the open for once.

I figure there's gonna be lots of bargaining first, on both parts, like Bucky arguing that he could still fight, just maybe stick to the ground instead, and Steve telling him that he doesn't have to, and really he'd be happier knowing that Bucky's safe at home and not forcing himself into dangerous situations, and Bucky grumbling 'cause oh how the tables have turned, and just, you know, trying to find a way to compromise.

I think, maybe this is how Steve first starts to really, genuinely consider retiring, himself. like, not just picturing it in a distant, wistful way, oh wouldn't it be nice if we could do that, etc - but really, really entertaining the idea. letting himself plan it out. talking about it with Bucky, even with Sam and Nat, giving himself the chance to consider another kind of life. after all, there are plenty of battles to fight in the world, and not all of them require fists and guns, right? and if he can fight those battles too alongside Bucky, then so much the better 💖

CLAUSTROPHOBIC STEVE THOUGH OMG

somehow the first thing that comes to mind is that one scene from CATWS, when he and Nat find Zola's computerized ass and he blows up the building, and they're stuck in a tiny hole under all the rubble until Steve gets them both out. I CAN PICTURE ONLY TOO VIVIDLY HOW FUCKING SCARY THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN FOR HIM, OH MY GOD

as somebody who shares that kind of phobia, may I submit to you one of the most obvious, most mundane monsters he might face: ELEVATORS. especially of the narrow, non-see through kind, where you're literally locked inside a metal box until it releases you from that torment. IF IT DOES. like honey the anxiety is real af okay

in the spirit of putting the blorbos in a Situation™, please picture them both in an old-fashioned elevator.

Steve hasn't mentioned his fear to Bucky, he's just been lucky so far, so he didn't have to bring it up. but the stupid thing is so slow, and the space inside is so small, and sure, Steve never minded being in Bucky's close proximity, but he can't stop thinking about getting the fuck out of there asap.

at some point the fucking thing stops, and oh good god they're stuck inside, and it's gonna take a while for help to come.

and Bucky, sweet, horny, unsuspecting Bucky, just makes a little joke about knowing just how they could pass the time until then, wink wink. he crowds Steve back against the already narrow wall, starts sucking languid kisses into Steve's neck-- and Steve's frozen, breathing in quick shallow breaths that could be mistaken for gasps of pleasure, holding onto Bucky with an iron grip because he can feel himself spiraling into panic, heart racing wildly, eyes darting from wall to wall like he can see them rapidly closing in on him, suffocating him, squeezing him in--

and it takes a moment for Bucky to realize what's really going on, but when he pulls back and sees Steve so terrified, hyperventilating and about ten seconds away from passing out, he switches into Protective Boyfriend mode like *snaps fingers*

he's like, "sweetheart, what's wrong?", and the second Steve gasps "out, I need to get outta here, now", Bucky springs into action and pries the elevator's door open with his bare hands, helping Steve climb out (the next floor was already into view) and following suit.

of course they're gonna talk about it (and realize that they should maybe stop hiding their respective fears from each other), and from then on... yep, they stick to stairs <3

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Delta anon here again and I have a wonderful angst idea

(Tw: violent lash outs, s/h)

So obviously, Delta and Beta have anger issues. This is a known thing among the fandom, due to him canonically being a hothead.

But due to the more recent headcanons about them being able to mask their emotions and fake it to the point of being able to hide their glow internally, what would they do when they can finally let it out?

I'd imagine they'd lash out at the nearest object or person. And God forbid Color or Epic try to stop them from lashing out - or even go near them in that state.

If one of them tried stopping them or touching them, then Delta, who is running on fighting instinct and adrenaline at this point, would lash out at them and probably harm them. Grabbing at them, punching them, accidentally burning them - they're not thinking at this point and just need something to attack.

(We really gotta invest in getting this man a punching bag that won't break on the first punch lmao)

Obviously, whichever one isn't being attacked at the moment immediately runs to help and at least get Delta far away enough so that they can get the other out of there. Delta doesn't even realize what he's done until a while after, probably after he's done destroying whatever room he's in.

Eventually, after he's calmed down, Delta would remember what they did and immediately get wrecked with guilt. Did I hurt them? How badly did I hurt them? What did I do? Why did I do that? Why did I hurt them? I didn't mean to, I didn't want to. Why did I do that?

Imagine the panic, not just from him, but from Beta as well. Will they leave us now? What if we hurt them so badly, that they hate us now? Do they still like us? Do they still want us around? What if they don't? Will they leave? What if they think we're too dangerous or violent to be around, and then they finally leave us?

The angst of them frantically wanting to apologize, horrified of what they've done, yet freezing up, unsure if Color and/or Epic even want to see them right now, much less be around them. Should we wait? Should we let things calm down for a little? But what if they think we meant to do it? Are they okay?

Now, this thought process would probably lead to a panic attack. And what makes it worse, is knowing that they're entirely alone, have no one to call for help, and might never have anyone again. Because all they can remember is that they hurt someone - they can't remember how badly they did. Oh stars, what if they killed them? What then? The only people who ever really cared about them, their best friends, and yet he hurt them. How could he? They must hate him, surely. How dangerous really was he? Are they really too dangerous to be around?

And when they finally get over the panic attack, probably multiple hours later, they're able to pull their shaking body off the floor they collapsed on and push the door open to go check on whoever they hurt. Afraid to find out, but afraid to not.

(And at this point, I'd also imagine that due to the intense emotions and the idea that the burn appears based on the intensity of his emotions, they'd most likely have hurt themselves by now. Purposefully burning themselves, genuinely believing that they deserved it after all the pain they put their friends through.)

Eventually, he'd be able to find them. I'd imagine he'd be anxiously peeking the door open, trying to subtly glance in the room without raising alarm, not wanting to scare or hurt them further but being too afraid to not check.

Would Delta/Beta allow themselves to be comforted, or would they immediately seek isolation after checking on them to make sure they're okay, out of the fear that they'll hate him and want nothing to do with him - so they take care of it themselves. Not to guilt trip them, but out of genuine concern and fear. He doesn't know if they want him around anymore, and are too afraid to ask and find out.

And if they did hurt themselves, would they allow themselves to be healed (reguardless of how serious the burn is) if Color and Epic found out, or would their insecurities and fear take hold and stop them from allowing anyone to help them, and also from reaching out? Would he force himself to endure the pain and refuse to heal himself, especially if it's a serious burn?

And when Color and Epic finally did find them (let's be real, they probably had to seek him out and hunt him down), do you think Delta would put the offer of hurting him in revenge up for them to take? Because surely, that's why they came here, aside from an apology. Wouldn't they want revenge against them for what they did? They deserve to be hurt and in pain for what they did, don't they?

(How horrified would Epic and Color be at this offer? How would they convince Delta/Beta otherwise?)

What do you think the aftermath would be, depending on who they hurt and how badly? How would they move on?

(Also if Killer caught word of Delta doing this, and Delta had accidentally hurt Color, would Killer go after him immediately while Delta is still in his rage? How bad would that fight get? How would it get stopped, if it did?)

Thoughts?

You know, this actually made me think of a scene similar to a fanfic i read. Where Killer hunts Delta down with intent to kill if he had hurt Color, only to come across Delta and Beta in a very not good state and feeling a sudden sense of deju vu, and before he knows it hes triggered into Stage 1 or like, gently “nudged” aside.

Someone crumpled and curled up, hurt and bleeding, alone and afraid and guilty after hurting someone they didn’t mean to or want to. Afraid to face the world and the consequences. Killer’s been there, even if the reasons for hurting people/loved ones are vastly different.

Perhaps this is the moment where they gain an understanding. Where Killer can take everything he’s learned from Color and therapy and his healing and his own experiences, and help someone else now.

Or perhaps Killer doesn’t switch into Stage 1 fully, but that eyelight glows in his right eye socket and hes uncomfortably aware that the sight is familiar. Which can be a jarring experience for Stage 2, not really known for such empathy, and the moment is very likely fleeting and he likely experiences something like emotional amnesia towards the moment later.

Maybe Killer decides to help Delta and Beta treat their wounds, which also gives them some time to pull themselves together before facing Epic and Color. If Delta and/or Beta tries to pull the “I hurt them, i don’t deserve it, you should be trying to kill me,” card, Killer reminds them of what Color always says: “It’s not about deserving. Do you want it?”

So would they want Killer’s help? If even Killer can offer this moment of what seems to be forgiveness, understanding, then Color and Epic definitely would. Do they want it?