#private cowboy imagines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

morbidapples · 8 months ago

Text

pretty thing

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝖽𝗈𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽'𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿𝗅𝗒 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝗈. 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐, 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟣,𝟧𝟨𝟥 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌; 𝟪,𝟦𝟧𝟣 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗂-𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺), 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗂 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝗮/𝗻: 𝗂 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗂 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗈𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍? 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝖽𝗈𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗂𝖿 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗌 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗂 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾.

Dodge was not accustomed to people showing up for him. So, when his gaze fell on you in the rodeo throng that day, he was certain he was imagining things. Was it possible that you would've remembered something he said in passion at Dot's over a week ago? Most importantly, why did you even care?

He'd wanted you ever since he first saw you. You were just so damn pretty. So sweet, so gentle. He didn't believe in love at first sight, but God, was it hard not to fall in love with you instantly.

Despite his reservations, as he finishes his run and dismounts from Charger, his horse, you are the only one he cares about, and the one he makes a beeline towards to where you wait at the gate.

"You came." He tilts his cowboy hat, places his hands on his hips, and looks down at you.

You nod slightly. "I did."

His lips twitch into a smirk.

"Don't look so thrilled. Was the thought of seeing me again that painful?"

"Oh my god, it was completely and utterly dreadful." Dodge can tell by the tone of voice you're using that you're only teasing him.

He lets out a scoff laugh, pretending to be hurt by your words. He holds his chest dramatically. "Now you're breakin' my poor heart, pretty thing."

"Well then, I might just have to stitch is back up for you." You have an amused grin on your face, but your attempts at flirting are completely serious.

"Oh, yeah?" Dodge steps closer to you, looking down at you, and takes the bottom of his shirt into his hands and lifts it up, revealing an impressive washboard stomach and the slightest hint of a happy trail that's just barely visible in the cowboy's jeans. "You can start here."

"You're a real charmer, aren't you?" It seems like an offhanded comment, but your tone of voice and the look in your eyes tells him that you're very much interested.

"You like it." That signature crooked smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. "Admit it."

He gently tugs your chin upward, his eyes meeting yours with an intense gaze and his thumb grazing against your bottom lip.

When your teeth lightly nibble against his thumb, he loses it, he's officially going mad. He's completely gone for you. He needs you. Now. Which in turn means, you two need to get somewhere relatively private.

Dodge's eyes darken with lust. He looks around to find a place less packed.

Without another word, he takes your hand in his and leads you away from the rodeo crowd and towards the stables nearby. Once he finds an empty stall, he shoves you into it and closes the door behind him.

Once you're secluded in the shadowed stall, Dodge presses you against the wall as he crashes his lips to yours in a passion-filled kiss.

His tongue runs against your bottom lip, demanding entry, and moans against your mouth when you open up for him. His arms wrapping around your waist and his body pressed flush against yours.

When he taps your thighs as a signal, your legs wrap around his waist as he pushes you against the stable wall, your hands cupping his face as his tongue slips into your mouth.

A gruff groan rumbles from his throat and into your open mouth as you feel the heat and hardness of his bulge press against you.

Dodge's hands roughly grip your hips as he grinds his hips in a circular motion and begins trailing kisses along your jaw and neck.

You gasp, one arm wrapping around his neck as your eyes flutter shut, and you throw your head back slightly at the feeling. "Shit, Dodge..."

His teeth graze along your neck, finding that sweet spot on your collarbone, just at the top of it. He sucks on your skin and leaves a dark red mark in his wake.

The hand that's gripping your hip begins to wander further, going in between your bodies. He glances up at you, a silent question of consent. When you nod eagerly, his hands set you down against the back wall.

Dodge's hands lift your shirt up, and he presses open mouthed kisses to the top of your abdomen, and to your midriff.

His palm presses against your lower stomach, and once he reaches the waistline of your jeans, he quickly unfastens the button and yanks at the zipper.

Dodge sinks down, dropping himself to his knees as he kisses down your body. He nips and bites at the skin just above your hip bone as his hands grip the waist and and pulls your jeans past your thighs and down your legs.

He looks up at you with darkened, hungry eyes- his tongue flicking out for a second to wet his bottom lip. "Keep lookin' at me just like that, pretty thing," He says, his voice low and gravelly. He guides one of your legs onto his shoulder.

The only piece of fabric left between his mouth and it's intended target are your panties, and they don't last for long as the cowboy pulls them down with his teeth and watches them fall to your ankles.

"Keep quiet. Wouldn't want anyone seeing how good I make you feel, would we?"

He doesn't bother to wait for your response. He leans in, and his mouth is on you in mere seconds. His tongue is running up and down your folds as he moans, tasting you and savoring the sweet taste of you on his mouth.

As Dodge uses his tongue to please you, his eyes flick up to glance at you. Your head is thrown back, eyes almost rolling into the back of your head. You bite down on your bottom lip to muffle the noises that threaten to escape you. God, you're so pretty. He's never seen anybody look as goddamn beautiful as you do right now.

His eyes don't leave you. He keeps his gaze locked on yours. His name falling from your lips sounding sweeter than any melody. His tongue works you in a way that makes you lose all coherent thoughts, your head dizzy from pleasure and your eyes closing- unable to keep them open against the overwhelming sensation.

He's lapping at you like a starved man, similar to that of a wild animal. His tongue tastes you at such a rabid pace, that it doesn't seem humanly possible. He's groaning into your cunt, and that only amplifies the pleasure.

He's eating you out like he wants to devour you whole, and in a way, he does.

Your body begins to tighten as you feel the all-too-familiar feeling of your orgasm building within you. Your fingers weave into his hair, gripping it between your fingers, as if you needed him to anchor you in place to keep from drowning in your own bliss.

Dodge doesn't let up, even as your moans become louder and more wanton when you're brought over the edge. He keeps working you through your orgasm until you're oversensitive and can't stand the feel of his tongue any longer.

His tongue runs over you one last time, leaving behind a parting kiss, and his mouth trails up your stomach, following the path back towards your heaving chest. He plants one final hot, breathless open-mouthed kiss between your breasts, and he stands to his feet.

His eyes look into yours, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as you attempt to catch your breath. Your cheeks are flushed, and your lips are swollen from biting at them. He wants nothing more than to hear you calling out his name again and again. But...

But the sound of commotion outside the stall causes him to look over his shoulder. The rodeo is still going on, and it won't be long before someone comes looking for him. Dodge turns back to you, his thumb softly grazing over your cheek. "As much as I'd love to stay here-," He steals a short kiss from your lips, "-I need to go check on Charger."

You nod slightly, eyes still scanning him, and your cheeks still flushed. "Okay. Do you wanna... continue this later? Maybe somewhere a little more private?"

Dodge places his hand on the wall by you, effectively trapping you between his body and the stable wall. His lips brush up against your ear as he leans in close, his nose just barely grazing the shell of you ear.

"Of course I do," He all but whispers, the low, heated rasp of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "I'll text you when the rodeo's done."

"Looking forward to it." You turn your head to quickly peck his cheek, before pulling away to grab to grab your clothes, shrugging your panties and jeans back on.

Dodge laughs softly. That bold attitude always returns, even after you've just had your mind blown.

Once you're both situated, Dodge takes his cowboy hat off his head and places it onto yours, tilting the brim down to cover your eyes with a charming smirk.

"Just keep this safe for me 'til later, okay?" He asks as he opens the stable stall door and peeks his head out. When the coast is clear, he lets go of your hand and disappears into the commotion before you can respond.

#dodge mason #dodge mason smut #mike faist #panic 2021 #panic on prime #challengers #cowboy #semi public sex #smut story #smut smut smut #dodgemasonfic

401 notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

Note

can you do a blog about the main types of book genres there are if you haven't already? and how to know what you're writing?

Types of Book Genres

Mystery. Follows a crime (like a murder or a disappearance) from the moment it is committed to the moment it is solved. Mystery novels are often called “whodunnits” because they turn the reader into a detective trying to figure out the who, what, when, and how of a particular crime. Most mysteries feature a detective or private eye solving a case as the central character.

Thriller. According to the New York Public Library, thrillers gradually build anxiety and suspense. Examples of thrillers include “Gone Girl” by Gillian Flynn, “All Her Little Secrets” by Wanda M. Morris and “The Silent Patient” by Alex Michaelides. ⚜ Psychological Thriller

Horror. “Carrie” by Stephen King, “The Haunting of Hill House” by Shirley Jackson and Edgar Allen Poe’s work are all under the umbrella of horror. These works are intended to frighten audiences and elicit a feeling of dread, according to the CDE.

Historical Fiction. Historical fiction takes place in a historical setting, the CDE notes. Some examples of historical fiction include “The Prophets” by Robert Jones, Jr. and “The Four Winds” by Kristin Hannah.

Romance. Romance Writers of America (RWA) noted that romance refers to optimistic and emotionally satisfying stories that focus on a central love story. “The Love Hypothesis” by Ali Hazelwood and “Red, White and Royal Blue” by Casey McQuiston are both romance novels.

Western. Primarily set in the American Old West between the late 18th century and late 19th century and tell the stories of cowboys, settlers, and outlaws exploring the western frontier and taming the Wild West.

Bildungsroman. Translates to “novel of education” or “novel of formation,” chronicles a character’s journey from young innocence to worldly adulthood. This is a specific type of coming-of-age story in which the character gains knowledge and experience, even as innocence is lost.

Speculative Fiction. Refers to genres not based in reality, including work with magical, supernatural or otherwise imagined elements. Essentially, speculative fiction is the opposite of mimetic fiction. The category includes subgenres like fantasy, science-fiction, dystopian fiction and more, Witcover noted.

Science Fiction. This genre often involves science and technology of the future. Science fiction is frequently set in space or a different universe or world. It often uses some real theories of science.

Fantasy. According to the California Department of Education (CDE), fantasy "invites suspension of reality." The genre encompasses stories that wouldn't happen in real life, often set in another world or including magical elements.

Dystopian fiction. Imagines a future place in cataclysmic decline.

Action and Adventure. The tension of the protagonist’s journey in an adventure story creates a pulse-pounding, adrenaline-pumping storyline. Dramatic car chases, secret missions, and violent fight scenes often pop up in famous action stories. Great action writing draws in your audience, getting their adrenaline pumping as they turn the page.

Nonfiction (Memoir: Stories from an author’s life that offer a firsthand account of events are called memoirs. According to Reader's Digest, some highly-recommended memoirs include “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings” by Maya Angelou and “Spare” by Prince Harry. ; Autobiography: a nonfiction (true) account of someone’s life. It is written by the subject of the autobiography; Biography: tell the story of a notable person’s life, written by someone other than the subject. Some examples are “Into the Wild” by Jon Krakauer, which tells the story of the adventurer Chris McCandless, and “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks” by Rebecca Skloot.)

Food and Travel. Cookbooks, food history books, travel guides and travel memoirs all fall under this category that includes “The Omnivore's Dilemma” by Michael Pollan and “My Life in France” by Julia Child.

Humor. Strong humor writers have a way of spotting the patterns of life and bringing them to the surface at exactly the right moment.

Young Adult. YA books are intended for readers between 12 and 18 years old, according to Smithsonian Magazine. Some examples include “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins and “The Hate U Give” by Angie Thomas.

Children's Fiction. Many classic examples of children’s literature are picture books, including “Where the Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak or “Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus” by Mo Willems. Scholastic noted most picture books are intended for children up to seven years old.

Knowing your Genre. The world of literature abounds with different genres.

Although every literary genre has its own trends and defining characteristics, the divisions between these categories aren't always clear. Whether you’re picking another book off the shelf or plotting out your new novel, learning more about genre can help you decide what comes next.

If you want to become a writer, there are a number of reasons to learn about genres, according to Paul Witcover, associate dean of the online Master of Fine Arts (MFA) in Creative Writing program at Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU).

“I feel it’s important for writers to have an understanding of genre because it will impact how their books are marketed, as well as how they are perceived by publishers,” he said. “But I also think writers can be too concerned with genre.”

Although he encourages writers to learn about the subject, Witcover noted a tendency for overly rigid ideas about the distinctions between genres. “Concepts of genre are more fluid than writers may believe,” he said. It's important to keep that fluidity in mind.

Genre is determined by need and audience expectation. Its set functions are determined by its social need.

Broadly speaking, the fiction world is divided into 2 segments: literary fiction and genre fiction.

Literary fiction typically describes the kinds of books that are assigned in high school and college English classes, that are character driven and describe some aspect of the human condition. Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award winners tend to come from the literary fiction genre.

Genre fiction has a more mainstream, populist appeal. It traditionally comprises genres such as romance, mystery, thriller, horror, fantasy, and children’s books.

Some genre writers straddle a line between genre-focused commercial fiction and the traditions of literary fiction.

Traditionally, there are 4 broader categories of genre:

Fiction: Imagined or invented literature is called fiction, Writers & Artists noted. Examples of fiction titles include “1984” by George Orwell and “Little Fires Everywhere” by Celeste Ng.

Nonfiction: According to Writers & Artists, nonfiction refers to fact-based works. Some nonfiction titles include “The Body Keeps Score” by Bessel van der Kolk and “I Am Malala” by Malala Yousafzai, and “Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking” by Marcella Hazan.

Poetry: Britannica defines poetry as “literature that evokes a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience or a specific emotional response through language chosen and arranged for its meaning, sound and rhythm.” Poetry incorporates poetic elements and encompasses the work of writers like Maya Angelou, Robert Frost, Amanda Gorman and Richard Siken.

Drama: Dramatic literature refers to texts of plays that can be read for their literary value as well as performed, according to Britannica. Dramas include stage directions and specific formatting not found in prose or verse. Some of the most studied dramas are Shakespeare’s plays, like “Hamlet” and “Romeo and Juliet.” You might be familiar with other dramas, too, like “Death of a Salesman” and “The Crucible” by Arthur Miller or August Wilson’s Century Cycle of 10 dramas depicting the Black experience in the U.S. throughout the 20th century, including “The Piano Lesson” and “Fences.”

Although most writing falls into at least one of these 4 categories, the edges are a bit blurred, and there can be overlap.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

It seems the general advice is to learn about the different genres first, and try to see which elements your story has that align with them. Perhaps start with the broader categories first, then narrow it down to the major genres, until you identify which specific subgenre your story fits. And it's fine if they overlap, as this happens with most novels. Hope this helps!

#writing reference #genre #writeblr #dark academia #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #fiction #novel #creative writing #literature #writing prompt #light academia #writing tips #writing advice #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writing resources

113 notes · View notes

akirathedramaqueen · 5 months ago

Text

There's one piece of concept art that made me see the entire Apology Tour disaster in a different light.

So, we've been talking with @warblogs17282 about Stolitz and how their break-up ended up playing out in the 'Apology Tour' episode.

Why ended up? Well, there's a collection of concept art which, to my limited understanding of this craft, is one of the first steps in the production process of animation. This post by @birdy-babe includes a great chunk of it, shared by artists after the episodes aired (like storyboards, but much more stylised, showing how different some original ideas were). Long story short, one of the concept arts from the 'Apology Tour' episode suggests their quarrel was originally meant to be much harsher.

A short summary of the concept art to see what we are dealing with

In the background, you see a lot of apology postcards and silly cutesy stationery, suggesting Blitzø is in the middle of his Apology Tour.

The contact name isn't 'Stols' but 'Bird Dick,' implying their relationship is at an earlier stage, with less respect—at least on Blitzø's part.

There's a photo partially cut by the edge of the messages screen. From the signature gloves and boots, cowboy hat covering Blitzø's private parts, and visible nipples, it appears to be a nude image—replaced in later stages of development with stupid gay affirmation memes (as hard as it is to believe, I couldn't imagine there could be anything worse than the Striker horse gay jokes... well, it could, my dudes, it fucking COULD).

There are three messages, one of which is unsent:

"Stolas, cum awwwwwwn, u no u want it :)"—likely attached to the nude;

"Dude just talk to me"—desperation crawls in; he finally realises the shit has hit the fan;

"Im sowwy :("—an apology, but the text remains unsent, perhaps because it seems pointless, given that the 'Not Delivered' notifications and warning signs indicate Stolas has blocked his number.

Why do I find this fascinating, and why does it fill me with immense hope?

Because they still fucking care so much, and neither has completely closed the door on the other. By comparing the concept art to the final product, you can see how many intentional choices were made in dialogue, visuals, and behaviour to make it clear that these two idiots still want things to continue. Stolitz is meant to fucking live.

Now, if you want to see some comparisons—evidence, really—let's dive into each other's changes, focusing on what we can gather from the concept art.

Blitzø's side

Change 1—thank gods, no nudes. The gay memes are sillier and a bit lighter. Of course, they still showcase utter disrespect, a horrible prejudice against sexuality, and a poor understanding of how deeply Stolas was hurt, but I find them... less bad.

Change 2—no more 'Bird Dick.' Blitzø has actually come up with a real nickname for Stolas! Feelings are boring for you, huh, Blitzø? I can almost hear the song’s lines: "O-oh, hooked, addicted you might say, conflicted in a way…"

Change 3—Blitzø's attempts to apologize now show much more contemplation. Since Stolas hasn’t blocked him, Blitzø knows his words aren’t just being thrown into the void. Although the 'unsent' detail remains, it now carries real weight and impact.

All three changes are seen in these two GIFs.

He knows he did wrong. He knows he wants to salvage it. He might not yet know how to do it healthily, but he tries—he tries so fucking hard!

Look at the range of raw, cutting emotions as he speaks to Stolas and finally delivers his apology—probably the only one he genuinely meant. Well, maybe except for Verosika, a bit later.

It's not that it's hard for Blitzø to say 'sorry'—we've seen him do it a lot lately. He's actually quick to apologise and take responsibility, so Stolas's remark about him not feeling any remorse couldn’t be further from the truth. But the fact that he isn't running away this time—chasing after Stolas and trying his best to mend things—is drastically different from how he treated Verosika back then.

Stolas's side

Here’s the moment that struck me deep. It’s the only change, since the concept art shows Blitzø’s POV, but it’s such a significant one.

Do you think Stolas has moved on? Do you think he’s done with Blitzø? Not convinced, even when he’s literally singing about still wanting Blitzø?

Well, here’s your proof—he didn’t block Blitzø. They scrapped that.

More than that, the entire interaction emphasizes that Stolas isn’t pushing Blitzø away for good.

How do I know this? Stolas is very insistent on using phrases like 'for now,' 'right now,' and 'now' throughout his attempts to tell Blitzø off.

Here are some citations:

"I was hoping my lack of 'ha-ha's' in response to the photos you sent me would be an indicator I didn't want to talk right now."

"Seeing you right now is hard!"

"I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable with how you're speaking to me now!"

Why is this so important? Because he isn’t asking Blitzø to leave him forever. All he’s asking for is time.

Even while hurt, Stolas gives Blitzø plenty of chances to explain himself civilly. Look at the hopeful glances each time Blitzø shows any glimpse of genuineness.

Stolas fucking hopes Blitzø will take back all the cruel things said and brash actions done.

You know, Stolas... I've spent the entirety of this morning listening to love ballads, and that was...

For what?! You want me to be like, "Oh sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me and I've let my self-hatred stop me from apologising to anyone I could ever care about!"

You see the furrowed brows and the sad look? Stolas hopes for the best... but gets the worst because Blitzø isn’t there yet.

I’d even go so far as to say Stolas is acutely aware that Blitzø uses his brashness as a shield to protect himself. He literally sang about it in 'Just Look My Way.'

Unless it's me? And no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough to get through these walls you've conjured up to live.

So, what gives?

Is this the behaviour of people who want to give up on a relationship they still clearly hold dear?

No. Even when they’re angry, aggressive, hurt, or drunk, they still seek understanding and forgiveness. They continue to listen and try.

They might lack the skills and may choose the wrong time, place, or words to express what truly matters...

One person, scared of being rejected so much that he unconsciously conveys this message by saying, "You don’t have to stay here with me," and carrying it throughout the whole conversation...

The other, coming to terms with his feelings, admits them, and his fears, a bit too late—when his romantic interest is too drunk to comprehend anything…

And in both cases—self-loathing, self-hatred, doubts, scars, trauma… and a lack of hope.

But there is hope. No, this is reassurance, my folks.

You know when it's hardest to stay in a relationship? When it’s hardest to come and say, "I am sorry," when it’s hardest to still love the person?

When you’re hurt. When they’ve hurt you.

And, despite that, you still come to them and still want to talk to them.

If this isn’t ironclad evidence that this is more than just a fling or a couple of fun sex dates, I don’t know what is.

And the 'Apology Tour' fucking proves it, rather than ruins it. It only strengthens the point. It’s easy to live in happiness, but it’s so hard to go through it while you’re in pain. When you see them doing that, you realise it means everything to them.

Stolitz is to live.

#GET OFF MY MEN #they are so stupidly in love I want to smack them sometimes and... idk put them in a cage OR SOMETHING and make them fucking talk for once #they so fucking care for each other they go above and beyond to change for the better #they've already changed just because they want to be better for their love #even though they don't fully realise it #helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss apology tour #stolitz #blitzø #stolas #stolas x blitz #blitz x stolas #blitz #stolas goetia #akira's whimpery metas

167 notes · View notes

astralnymphh · 1 year ago

Note

have u ever thought bout cowboy!ellie 👉👈

remembered this ask exists sorry it took me so long i literally have so much on my plate. but like. whenever I think of cowboy!ellie, I think of a red dead redemption 2 crossover. okay, I've only played the online game so far but GOD I would do anything for her ♡

imagine giving her a lap dance at a saloon. like in one of those private rooms. all decked up in ur' cute leather boots and long chiffon skirt bunched up on her lap, cotton chemise tossed goddess knows where— tensing your thighs around the flex of hers, squeezing a darkened blotch upon the material of her pants, wriggling the uncomfortable–ness of pooling sleek betwixt your smushed folds. ellie, so undeniably enamored in the dance your hips give, coos in that swirly drawl that's got ur' insides wrenching out gushes upon gushes of arousal, "bless you baby, workin' those hips like ya' own my fuckin' lap. ohh, fuuck— leakin' already? wanna stand n' turn? show me how she look?" and the top of her hands are so dimpled pushing her grip harsher on your ass, fondling fingerprints in the pads of fat through thin layers of fabric, drawing her hand up to land a smack every now and then, going, "yeah?" when you kick a yelp from your panting pout, ughh and she'll chuckle dry with a slanted, open–mouthed smirk, watching you squirm and defile that thigh of hers with your bewitching mien. ♡

m' like tired rn so this is a bit lazy rn but someone remind me to write this more detailed or give me a scenario for later.

she's like full evolution farm!ellie

#ellie williams #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras asks #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie x reader #cowboy!ellie #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams concept #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction

510 notes · View notes

agoofyannoyancetolaw · 1 year ago

Text

debt

a/n: a goofy lil graves post for my goofy lil graves enjoyers. If there’s any errors I wouldn’t know because I’m too tired to check

minors DNI

Too many drinks. Too many bets. Too many lost clients and personal savings going into shadow company- lead graves to something he promised never to do. Losing his pride, at a strip club no less, with only a cowboy hat and a black mask on, as well as some assless chaps and leather gloves, the feeling of his bare chest in the cold air of the club making the hair at the back of his neck stand up.

he could practically feel the burn of the eyes of people looking at him as if he was a toy or a pretty little housewife to take home- but he started to like it, having attention on him even if it was more as a showpiece then a commander, and the free drinks at the bar weren’t helping his ego.

he could hear some men whistle him over, to which he attempted to ignore despite it being his job.. his eyes instead focusing on you at the very back booth- one of his own men no less. And you were looking right back at him, blissfully unaware that the masked cowboy was your commander.

and of course, you had to whistle him over- he was just to pretty not to :(, his movement going from ego filled to nervous on minutes as he sat next to you, feeling your hand slide around his waist, and feeling you softly pull him onto your lap. He could feel your bulge against the thin jeans under his chaps, the warm sensation making him blush in embarrassment and humiliation but his member going hard none the less.

he felt so dirty. He wasn’t raised like this, let alone with one of his own men for some cash, but his mind couldn’t focus on that thought for too long as he heard you whisper “how much would it cost for a- private dance in my hotel room, hm?”.

your voice made him gulp- but money was money, so he agreed for a surprisingly low amount, hopping a cab with you and ending up laid out on the white sheets.

his hands clawed at the sheets as he felt you work him open with two digits, the cold lube on your fingers making him whine as you stretched him open enough that it wouldn’t hurt, before pulling down your boxers and sliding into him slowly, making him feel every inch until he was begging for you to move inside him, his voice muffled and whiny, slowly replaced with moans as he felt you thrust against his prostate and feeling your hands holding him down.

he could only imagine what his soldiers would think of him if they found him like this, being fucked by his own soldier for money while in a mask- his mind only snapping out of the thoughts when he felt you speed up, his walls clenching around you so hard as you bucked into him, your pace uneven as you chased your relief.

he came all over the perfect white sheets, ruining them and his torso with cum as you continued to thrust into him, finally finishing when your hips jittered to a stop and his hole milked your cock- him fainting right after from pure tiredness and waking up with money on the nightstand and your phone number scribbled on his thigh..

with the words ‘see you on duty, commander <3’ sprawled on his other thigh, making him blush a deep red as he realized you figured out who he was

789 notes · View notes

nishiyako · 8 months ago

Note

OK OK. IMAGINE AIZAWA AS A FAMOUS HOLLYWOOD STAR AND THE READER IS A NEW ACTOR AND THERE WORKING TOGETHER. COULD U DO A FIC LIKE THAT. REST UP TO U! CANT WAIT TO READ IT 💕💕

After Hours (NSFW)

Pairing : Actor!Aizawa x Actor!Reader

Tags : Cowgirl, Penetration, Creampie, Pretty vanilla, reader being a menace, established relationship

Summary : After a long and painful shoot of a movie, you and your fiancé have a little after work celebration, simple and domestic for him but you have other plans.

You didn’t enjoy complaining about your job in the movie industry, afterall, lots of people would kill to have this job. You were one of the characters in a new action type of movie. You weren't the main love interest or anything just the hot lady character in the group of hero’s, thankful enough to get in as only a C-List actress but one of your most notable co-workers was the Shota Aizawa, playing the dark mysterious villain in the movie, you couldn't lie, it absolutely suited him.

Those chronic bedroom eyes, scruffy black hair with that dark husky type of voice, and those chronic bedroom eyes. Best part? You got to call him your finance.

Your relationship isn't really secret, just down low. Normal people wouldn't know but fans would think it was a pretty basic fact.

You snapped yourself back from your thoughts, feeling the tight latex suit tighten around you, hearing the sound of the zipper. You cringed looking at your character's outfit, who were you supposed to be? Cat Woman?

At Least it wasn't full body but you could still feel the twitch in your eye before heading over to hair and makeup, you passed by Aizawa rehearsing his lines in the mirror, he really was always dedicated to his role. A soft smile appears on your lips before leaving for the rest of your costume.

Hours felt like days, redoing scenes for what seemed like the millionth time, having to switch in and out with your stunt doubles, not to mention the goddamn latex suit? If this was what the industry would be like all the time you were honestly second guessing it.

What seemed like hell for you, seemed like heaven for Aizawa, having to film outside while he wore some cowboy hat and could easily cover himself up with the cape costumes department gave him, his pasty white skin still as light as it was from the start of production, guess being the villain did have its perks.

One of his favorite perks was seeing you, fighting to keep a smile on your face while you seemed like you were baking in that tight latex suit, that shiny, tight little suit. It felt wrong enjoying seeing his partner like this but that blush from your face scattered to the rest of your body, that curly hair do wasn't doing you any favors either.

He started picking up on your discomfort, a bit later than what he wanted to admit, he stood closer to you, raising his arm up, using the cape to put you under some type of shade. You look up seeing his soft smile, taking shelter in the cloak that hid you from the blazing sun.

Most of the shoot went as normal, shooting scenes and switching in and out but one of your favorite moments were the high tension scenes with the main character and Aizawas character, him monologing in a deep husky southern accent, anger in his eyes as you saw his rugged hands reaching for the gun on his holster, looking like he wanted nothing but to paint the desert sand beneath him with the blood of his enemy.

You swore you were falling in love all over again, wanting to pounce on him every second. Spoke in character perfectly almost the whole time. You haven't seen something like it yet, you haven't been in the industry like he was but you could tell, he was good.

The shoot continued as normal, when you and him would switch out you would always be found under his cape, trying to act natural. The shoot finally ended when it got too dark to get the shots needed for the movie.

Hours pass and you’re in Aizawa's private trailer, leaving yours abandoned for the afternoon. Him laid back on a couch, reading a book in a black shirt and sweats while you just got out of the changing room. Hair still a bit messy, wearing nothing but the fluffy robes from the drawers in the trailer

He was reading the book the movie was based on, trying to get more in touch with the story than just reading the script.

Taking a small strut out of the changing room, walking in front of the couch of your soon to be husband and letting the loose bathrobe fall off your shoulders and dropping to the floor.

His eyes met your nude body infront of him, knowing just what you wanted without you saying anything. He sighed, he was too tired for it, that costume was heavy and he had to wear it the whole day too. He dropped the book over his face not wanting to look at you for much longer, putting his hands behind his head, looking like he was just about to doze off.

he might do something he would regret. You were beautiful, the most gorgeous woman hes ever met dont get him wrong, but sometimes sex needs to sleep too.

A whine escaping your lips as you saw his uninterested state. You climbed on the couch, straddling him and taking a nice seat on his hips, already feeling his semi hard cock against you. You take the book he was reading off his face and closing it, he opened his eyes with the same deadness it always had “I was reading that” he said in a smokey tone.

You placed it on the table beside the both of you, “sure.” you scoffed in a sarcastic tone, lowering your lips to his neck, giving him a few kisses and love bites. “Didn’t even mark the page..” he muttered, complaining, following his sentence. “Mhm..” you mumbled against his skin, your hands already sneaking up under his shirt.

He could play coy all he wants, you could feel him getting harder under you. “Do you not want me anymore?” you asked sarcastically, pulling away from him. “Of Course I want you, every part.” He reassured, placing his hand on your thigh, giving you a sense of comfort. “But aren't you tired?” He followed up, his chest was right against yours, feeling his heavy breath right against your lips.

He was loving, caring and just a bit protective. He couldn’t live with the fact of the love of his life not getting enough sleep (the other love of his life), “Tired? It's too early for me to be tired.” you said energetically, a smile on your face. “I love your energy” Aizawa sugar coated, “But I'm pretty worn out from today, I don’t know how much I can do'' He said disappointed in himself, he loved spoiling you. but you didn’t find a problem in that, the smile on your face growing even bigger from hearing that.

“I don’t mind that.” you breathed out “I can take the lead just fine.” you said, grinding against the bulge in his sweatpants. He hissed through his teeth from your sudden movement against him, him slightly throwing back his head in pleasure.

He couldn’t say no now, you gave him the perfect excuse to lay back and have you ride him. “In that case.” he unties the knot on his sweatpants, an obvious invitation before lying back on the couch and taking his book back into his hands. “Ride away, cowgirl.” he said half jokingly in the voice of his character, that accent stuck on his tongue from speaking it the whole day.

He thought it was funny but it just made you melt.

You took off his sweatpants, letting them rest around his thighs as he read his book. You stroked his shaft a few times, your mouth already watering seeing the deep pink color of the tip and the upward turn, you felt butterflies inside you, seeing it right between your thighs, its deep pink shiny tip already making our mind race.

You licked your fingers, wetting your slit before you slowly sank in on him, you closed your eyes, focusing on just the feeling of having him inside you after a long day, while he struggled to remember which part he was reading.

As you took him all in you saw him, seeing the breath escape his lips, trying to focus on his book. You started rocking your hips back and forth, his left hand holding you steady while his eyes still on the word of his book.

You rubbed against him, with him inside you. Feeling yourself getting stretched out the more you move. Feeling the spot between your thighs get more moist than it was. Letting his tip hit your sweet spot repeatedly. Slow and gentle friction between the both of you, your palms resting on his broad chest, his free hand gently rubbing the skin on your hips, giving you that silent support that kept you going.

He managed to finish one or two pages before suddenly he felt your hips slam down on him, a moan escaping from your lips, catching by surprise. He lost track of where he was on his page, gripping onto the flesh of your hip as you started to speed up the pace of your movements.

Your legs help you bounce on him slowly, letting him hit that perfect spot inside you making you feel a little dizzy everytime.

Aizawa was a great actor, one of the best but to feel you move on him repeatedly, with so much passion and need. He couldn't act like that wasn't doing something to him. He placed his book face down on the table.

You warp your arms around his neck, your eyes filled with desperation as you bounce up and down on him in jolts of energy. His frame towering over you even if you were on top of him.

His hands helping you, guiding your hips closer to his body, his lips millimeters away from yours, feeling your breath right against the skin of hips lips, your eyes getting watery as you get overwhelmed from the basic closeness of him and the constend jolts of pleasure waving through your veins.

Aizawa was a calm and disciplined man but when you were like this, so close against him he couldn't fight the urge to hold you against him. Sloppy kisses against your lips, and the aimless and clumsy riding going on between your body’s.

Small breathy moans being exchanged between kisses as the knot inside you starts to tighten and your body starts to grow weak, finding support from the needy hands of your fiance, touching and admiring every part of you, feeling the slick of your walls tightening around him, white opaque liquid dripping down, staining the black sofa under the both of you.

He pulls away from the kiss, wiping away the saliva from the corner of your mouth. “Close yet, sweetheart?” he asked with a husky tone, feeling his breath against your ear. A whine escapes your lips as you try to find the words to say. You paw at his black shirt, holding yourself closer to him, as you whine a sad, sorry sounding “yeah…” against his ear. A light hearted chuckle escaping his mouth, hearing the depravity in your voice.

His right hand leaves the small of your back, finding the small bud in between your thighs, rubbing your clit gently, using the slick from your insides to coat his hand. Small gentle rubs stimulating you, sending waves of pleasure while you rode him.

He made sure you got there, wouldn’t want you staying up for too long before the big shoot tomorrow.

Suddenly you felt a wave of dopamine flood through you, throwing your head back with a strained moan escaping your throat, his left hand holding you close, a grunt escaping his mouth as he finished inside you, shoulders hunching over him taking in your lewd afterglow from getting all tired out.

“You tired now?” he asked as you cooled down from your high. “Pretty much..” you sighed out in a satisfied state.

●●● A/N : sorry this took so long annon, I tried to make it as actor-y as I could with it still sounding natural!!

#mha smut #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa smut

187 notes · View notes

andbreakmynose · 5 months ago

Text

cowboy films on gloomy afternoons

you loved everything about working at your local cinema, besides that one employee who just really confused you. he's just as pretentious as you thought but maybe he's also... something else.

WARNINGS: smut!! p-in-v, soft dom! al, one use of slut, office sex, age gap (unspecified, reader is in university). this is really fucking self indulgent

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

written with tbhc alex in mind because tbh he's the only one i can imagine being this level of pretentious tbh

You believed that you truly had the perfect job. For a film student, working as the projectionist at the little independent cinema across the street really was too good to be true. You spent your long hours watching movies—the kind that mattered. Sometimes you’d get stuck with the blockbuster of the week, but you were mostly met with true classics and arthouse features, which not only stuck with you long after watching but actually helped you get ahead in class. Your workspace was cramped and less than ideal, but not even that made you hate the job. You were surrounded by what felt like cinema history in unused rolls of film and posters left over from all 78 years the theater had been open, plus there was a half-decent couch to nap on. And yeah, you got free soda and snacks from it. Perfect.

The company was nice too; if the film ran long and you felt like you needed to stretch your legs, you could walk down to the never-busy lobby and talk to Lucy at the concessions counter (and steal some food) or Dylan at the ticketing stand. Somehow you even got a pretty good boss; Marty was one of the coolest and most experienced people you had ever met. He also wasn’t ever that busy, so he could help you with your homework if you really needed it.

But there’s always that one confusing co-worker, isn’t there? The one that’s either always out for the day or just plain weird. You had Alex. He worked in programming, getting to decide what movies the theater would show regardless of anyone else’s opinions. And goddamn, he was really good at it. Almost every showing you saw was completely sold out (who knew Sheffield had such an audience for auteur films?). But every time you praised his talent, he’d just... shrug it off. He was an enigma wrapped in an encyclopedia of film knowledge.

The problem with Alex is that he was aloof and painfully so. At team meetings, he’d stay in the corner, and you never really saw him out of the office. He also had a habit of being fickle; one day he’d decide he wanted to do an entire week of Tarkovsky films, and the next he’d want to do 1940’s horror films instead. His behavior echoed the type of students that would be dismissed in your class as ‘obnoxiously pretentious’, and god he was, you still remembered the time he went off on poor Marty for suggesting they show a Star Wars movie. But you were still interested in what he had to say; you loved Lucy and Dylan, but they couldn’t hold a conversation about a movie. Alex could, you assumed, if he was able to hold a conversation at all.

The first time you ever talked to him in private was when you went to ask about the copy of the film that was being shown. You had heard there was both a director's cut and a theatrical cut, so you wanted to make sure which you were playing. He answered your question with one sentence; “Director’s. Why the hell would I pick the theatrical edition?” And then went back to his work. It was a while before you talked to him again.

The next time you talked to him was for the same reasons, he seemed a little deep in his work when you came down to his office but you had 20 minutes before credits hit and your boss needed you to do this now. It was something about a high paying donor having a desperate question, whatever.

This exchange was almost the same, except this time he insisted that it was the theatrical cut and that the director’s cut was cash-grab bullshit. Ever the confusing man. You started on your way out when he called at you.

“Hey, what’s your favorite movie?”

It was an unexpected question, he never asked you anything let alone a personal question. It must be a trap, he wanted to hear your favorite movie and then would make fun of you for it. And it’s not that you had bad taste or anything, you're just sure he could find a way to tease you for literally anything you said.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day.” He says, an almost bored expression on his face.

You hesitated in choosing your words, anxious not to provoke the irritation you had seen in men like Alex, even though you knew he was likely to remain impassive. And even though you hadn’t seen him lose his temper, his distant demeanor made you uneasy, as if any slight could provoke a reaction. You had no reason to be scared but you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease in your bones.

Alex on the other hand finally turned to face you fully. He had been observing you for a while, you were always around and so was he, and he noted that you also seemed genuinely interested in the films and not just your paycheck. He also found himself begrudgingly noticing that you always wore the same type of skirt, ending right above your knees. He thought that if you were a character in a film it’d be one of your defining traits.

“Mulholland Drive.” You coughed up after a second of thinking. It was an answer that was both honest and, perhaps, intended to impress him. You didn’t want to dwell on whether that was your true intention or not though, you had other things to do.

Alex felt a flicker of satisfaction at your choice. He anticipated a more predictable answer, so Mulholland Drive was certainly a more compelling choice. In his mind, it confirmed that his suspicions were true; you were a different type of girl than any other employee he had seen in his 10 years of working at this theater. Maybe he really was pretentious, but he felt like if anyone was to work with him it should be people like you. He gave you a satisfied nod and a hum of approval, returning to the emails at his desk. He found you just as mysterious as he found you, he wanted to tear down the layers you had shown to everyone else.

Taking that as your sign to leave, you made sure to stop at the concessions stand for a bag of popcorn before going back up to the projectionists booth.

Two weeks later was when things started to change.

Alex had started to smile more, but you decided that was just because it was warm outside again. He had an interesting smile, it was warm and took up his entire face. It wasn’t the smile you’d expect him to have, you expected him to have a sneer if he was even capable of smiling.

You always liked to look at the schedule of films for the next week when they dropped on Thursday afternoons, you’d compare it to your classes’ syllabus to see if there was anything you could watch to get ahead. It seemed like Alex had decided on cowboy films for the next week, he’d done Sergio Leone before but this was just… a lot of 1960’s cowboy movies you had never even heard of. Nothing that would be helpful at all for you.

In between ‘Navajo Joe’ and ‘Billy the Kid Versus Dracula’ (god, where did he even discover these things), your eyebrows shot up. In the midst of all these damn horse operas he had snuck in… Mulholland Drive.

To say there were a million thoughts going through your head would be an understatement. A small, selfish part of you wanted him to have included the film because he had a soft spot for you, maybe this was his way of saying he saw how much you liked movies too. The logical part of your brain told you that there was some other reason, maybe an anniversary or something.

Checking the remaining time on Sabrina (Alex was on an Audrey Hepburn kick this week), you saw you had an hour left. That was plenty of time to wander the lobby and see if you could catch Alex. You slipped your phone into your pocket and climbed down the ladder from the projectionist’s booth to the lobby, praying to every god possible that Alex is somewhere to be found.

Lucy called out to you the second she saw you, beckoning you over with popcorn. You sighed and walked over, smiling at her.

“Hey look, I can’t talk for too long… have you seen Alex? Urgent question from someone at the screening.” It’s an utter lie, your mother would’ve reprimanded you for how filthy it was. But you needed to talk to him.

Lucy thought for a second, tapping her chin with her finger before she remembered. “He’s in his office, he’s always in his office, remember?” She said like it’s the most obvious thing ever. You nodded and gave a thumbs up, taking a handful of popcorn in your mouth before standing up again.

And that’s how you ended up in his office again, although you were shyer this time. If it was actually a question from a patron you’d ask it so easily, but this time it was your own. He’d have to give you an insight into his mind, you weren’t sure if he had ever done that before.

Your foot tapped lightly as you knocked on the door to his office, you heard him shuffle some papers around and groan.

“Come in.”

You have to take a deep breath before you open the door, there’s no reason this stupid movie should be making you feel this nervous but god…

“You’re gonna make me watch shitty westerns for an entire week, Turner?” You say with a small smirk, you embarrassingly had thought of your words all day. You didn’t want to just come in and ask him about why he picked your favorite film.

His eyes darted over to you the second you walked in, slowly taking you in. You had on the same skirt as last time. “I was watching one at home last night and was reminded of how brilliant the genre was. What, you don’t like a good shoot-em-up?” He asks you with raised eyebrows, leaning back slightly in his desk chair. Of course he liked westerns.

“Not my thing at all.” You replied, taking a small step closer to him. His hair was messier today than it usually was, his beard had gotten longer. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a bit, although he never looked like he got a lot of sleep. “Is it yours? Is your favorite film a western?”

He took note of how you were asking his favorite, the same way he asked yours. Smart girl. He smirked and shook his head, “Nah. My favorite film is ‘Le Samouraï’, you seen it?” Alex wouldn’t judge if you hadn’t seen it, but if you have it just might make you his favorite person on the planet.

You have to rack your brain on what you’ve heard of this film before, maybe it’s been mentioned in class before, you haven’t seen it. “No. Is that a sin?” You asked, leaning against a file cabinet in his office. His office was definitely bigger than the projection booth, he had made it very Alex.

Alex scoffed and shook his head, “I’m sad you haven’t seen it because it’s so brilliant but not mad. They haven’t taught you Melville in that expensive film school yet? You’re getting ripped off, sweetheart.” He matched your comfortable stance by leaning further back into his desk chair and crossing his legs. He had noticed that you aren’t scared of him, not even intimidated by his knowledge. He liked that, he liked talking to you.

“I’ve heard the name, we just haven’t watched it yet.” You respond, looking for the next thing to say to bring you to your point. “But I guess you’ve seen my favorite film, right? I saw you included Mulholland Drive in the lineup, was that a coincidence or are you being deliberate?”

Alex laughed at your words, of course you picked up on that. You really were too smart for your own good. “Well I suppose it’s a bit of both. I wanted something different in case not every regular audience member was on board with my westerns-’ he paused to roll his eyes, as if that thought disgusted him, “but yes. I figured it might be a pleasant surprise for someone with a discerning taste.” His eyes met yours and he smiled again, mostly because he saw a smile creeping on your face. He wanted to keep you smiling.

There was something about him admitting that it’s for you that made you feel… something. You didn’t quite know what. Maybe excited? You were excited and felt validated that he found your taste in film good enough to put on a lineup. You liked that he was perceiving you. “You’re saying you picked it for me? And here I thought you were just gonna be cryptic... What's your angle here?” You asked him; the smile was still on your face, but now your eyebrows were raised.

“Ah.” Alex uncrossed his legs, finally standing up. He got a little closer to you; he wanted to make stronger eye contact with you. “A great teacher back when I was in film school told me that it’s not just about what you watch; it’s about connecting. Maybe it’s all worth it if I can connect with someone who also appreciates the genius of Mulholland Drive.” Pretentious bastard; even his flirting was fucking pretentious. You would’ve made fun of him if you weren’t fighting back a blush.

You took another second to decide your words; it wasn’t often you were speechless, but you were now. "Well, I didn’t expect you to remember, let alone care enough to do that. Maybe there’s more to you than I thought... but don’t get any ideas about being my hero because you saved me from a complete week of westerns.” You had to throw an quip in there; without it, you thought your words felt too… vulnerable. You weren’t sure you were there with Alex yet.

He had to admit that you were funny, even if it was obvious what you were trying to say. He let out a laugh and shook his head. “I’m not trying to be your hero, sweetheart. I just figured that someone who loves the film as much as you deserves to see it on the big screen. Even if it’s from your tiny projection booth.”

His words, once again, leave you stunned. That was really sweet—maybe the top 5 sweetest things anyone had ever done for you. It was almost impossible not to blush and grin at him, and your body betrayed you by making you step forward. “Yeah? That’s… nice. But if you’re not trying to impress me, what’s your real game here? Or do you just have a thing for making people feel special?” You asked him; your smile was somewhere between teasing him and being genuinely flattered.

“You are special.” He responded, also taking a step forward. You started to feel his breath on your face; somehow just this one conversation had made you go from being terrified of him and thinking he’s so pretentious to wanting him.

As if he could read your mind, he reached forward and placed his hand on your hip, giving it a small squeeze. “Maybe I just enjoy challenging expectations; I can’t always be the mysterious bastard in the office. And like I said, you’re special.” His voice lowered, and his face got impossibly closer to yours.

Against all odds of being at work, and that just a week ago you thought he was the most confusing man on the planet, you needed to fucking kiss him. And you did; you took a half step forward and smashed your lips against his. He kept his hand on your hip, squeezing the soft skin as he pushed your back against the filing cabinets. You guessed that he wanted you as bad as you wanted him because he was practically sucking your face; you thought that was just a saying. It was an absolute mess of tongue on tongue and teeth on teeth; your noses even collided a few times as his beard scratched your face. It was uncomfortable in the best way; it was damn hot.

You moaned the very first second you felt his hand grope at your ass and his mouth slip from your lips to your neck. “So fucking pretty, so good,” he muttered before he started to attack your neck. It was an added sensation to have his beard pressing against you alongside his mouth (and teeth; he almost teethed at you). He definitely would leave more marks than just hickeys, but you were so in pleasure you didn’t even have time to think of work.

Oh fuck, work. You cursed silently to yourself and looked up at the clock, just as his hand started to snake under your blouse and over your bra, giving your tit a nice squeeze. “Fuck!” you called out, not just from the intense pleasure but from the fact that you only had another 30 minutes left before you told yourself you needed to be back in the booth. In an ideal world, you’d have an entire night with him.

He continued his mouth’s attack on your neck and hand’s attack on your breasts, feeling his pants start to become tighter; he could only imagine how wet you were. His fantasies were interrupted by you pulling him away and sighing, trying to catch your breath. “Alex… Alex I don’t have much time before I need to go. Do you want-”

He interrupted you this time with his hand coming up to squeeze your lips together, promptly making you shut up. “You got enough time for me to fuck you? Because I’m going to fuck you,” he said as if he'd already decided, and then he started to work with the hand not on your face to unbuckle his belt.

You weren’t able to really form words, so you just whined and nodded, giving him that permission he wanted. He took it quickly, flipping you over and bending you over his desk, your tiny skirt riding up so he could get a view of your pants. You were soaked; he knew you would be. His large thumb started to trace your folds before he made a ‘tsk’ noise and flipped you over again. He wanted to see your face, he decided. Alex Turner was nothing if not confusing.

“This wet only from a little kissing, god, sweetheart, I didn’t know I was dealing with a slut. Although I could’ve guessed from these tiny skirts you keep wearing.” His voice is cool and calm, a complete contradiction from how sinful his words were. You whined at them.

“Alex please. We don’t have much time; please just fuck me!” You cried out, hastily pulling your skirt down so he had easier access. Alex nodded and began to work faster on pulling his pants down. He was so goddamn aroused watching you act like this; you were such a gorgeous girl, and now he had you completely under his control. You moaned loudly, and he grunted, bringing his hand up over your mouth.

“Sweetheart, I’d love to hear all those pretty little noises, but not now. I’m not getting fired because you had to talk all sweet to me and get bent over.” It was an unholy whisper into your ears, causing your skin to shiver. You nodded, and he took that as a sign to slip your panties down. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt.”

If it was even possible, his words caused you to get even wetter. You could’ve guessed that he was big from the hardness in his jeans, but by the time he slipped his pants and boxers off, you were left gasping against his hand. There was an underlying fear—how the hell was that supposed to fit inside of you?—but also a great arousal because THAT was supposed to be inside of you. Alex tilted his head down to look at your pussy before he smirked, adjusting himself so he could get closer to your entrance.

Your cunt started to clench around nothing, getting excited just at the sheer closeness of his cock. He looked at your entrance again before he spat on his hand and started to rub it along his length as extra lubrication. “I don’t want to hurt you, babygirl,” he whispered before gently forcing the head into your heat, causing you to scream against his hand.

He shushed you again as he kept pushing himself further in; all of your tiny moans and whines were hidden by his hand, but that was for the best; he’d hear them eventually. You were so tight, so warm, and in that very moment Alex decided he was never going to fuck another girl in his life.

When he bottomed out, you gave in and bit at his hand; it was the only way you could keep an actual scream from coming out. You felt so full, you could even feel him throbbing in your cunt (or maybe that was your walls clenching; it could be both). He smirked and started to move, setting a pace that was relentless. He’d prefer to take you apart slower, but you didn’t exactly have the time for that.

His cock was hit every spot in you that made you mewl and arch your back; it was like he knew things about your body that you didn’t. His eyes were focused like you were one of those damn emails he was always writing; it was hot to you that he was that focused on your pleasure. Gentle grunts started to fall out of his mouth as the hand not on your mouth came up to twist at your nipples. The pleasure was starting to become unbearable, and you weren’t sure how much longer you had until you started crying.

You knew you were close when a particularly hard thrust caused your eyes to roll so far back in your head it hurt, so you brought your thumb down to your clit. You needed to cum, and you didn’t care what you had to do to achieve that.

Alex cared though; he wanted to be the one to make you cum. He took his hand off of your nipple and smacked yours off your clit, causing you to whine at the loss of sensation. “None of that. If you needed that, you could’ve just asked,” he grunted, bringing his thumb down to your sensitive bud. It was a funny thing for him to say, as you couldn’t exactly speak, but you still bucked up at his manipulation.

His pace started to become sloppy; you knew he was close too. His breath was also starting to become staggered, and you could almost see a tremble in his legs. You’d never seen him this undone, and it was so damn arousing that you caused it. Alex had already memorized all the spots that made you shake and whine; he knew you were close, so he made sure to hit them all on his thrusts. He knew he didn’t have much time left, and he wanted to make sure you didn’t leave unsatisfied.

It was a particular stroke where he somehow managed to hit your g-spot and pinch your clit at the same time that had you over the top. You felt your legs start to shake and your back arched. You were sure the noises coming from your mouth were starting to get louder than his hand-cranked control, but you didn’t care. You didn’t even care when your hand spilled the pencil cup on his desk all over the floor. All you cared about was that you were cumming and he was making you cum.

Alex grinned at the sight of you becoming this undone because of him. That was what sent him over the edge—the idea that it was his work that just made you coat his member in juices. He pushed until the last second, until his cock was actually twitching, and then he pulled out. The loss of contact was hardly noticed, and he came all over his office floor just by seeing how fucked out you were. You still hadn’t caught your breath, but you were watching him with awe. His dick was really damn nice, and now it was leaking so much cum onto the floor.

He collapsed onto his desk chair and reached for a tissue from his desk. He wiped off his cock before tucking it back into his boxers and then wiped off your pussy, cleaning up the table too. He threw the tissue away and made a mental note to take his own office trash out later.

Once you had caught your breath enough, you stood up, legs still wobbly, and put your pants back on. It took a second, but eventually you had them and your skirt on. Alex just smirked at you.

“That was... good,” you said with a small smile. You were starting to get shy being around him; you just fucked him, and now you had to go back to work.

“It was. You’re uh, you’re perfect. I meant it when I said you’re special.” His smirk turns into a genuinely warm smile, and he brings his thumb up to trace your chin. There was a faint mark on your mouth from him keeping you quiet. You looked down at his cum on the floor, raising your eyebrows in a silent offer to clean it up. He just shook his head; he’d deal with that.

You nodded and sighed, “I should probably get back to work... I don’t look like I just had sex, do I?” Your hair was slightly messy and your shirt was wrinkled, but it also always was. “No one will notice sweetheart,” he replied with a bit of a laugh. He was glad this was your secret.

"Right, uh, thank you, Alex?” It comes out as a question; you’re not sure if you should thank your co-worker for making you cum like that. He shook his head and stood up. “No, thank you for being such a damn good fuck and a special girl.”

You smiled at this; his words gave you a slight hope that maybe this would happen again. You opened his door when he called out to you.

“Sweetheart, I was thinking that maybe I could come up with you and watch Mulholland Drive next week.” It was an optimistic idea; he was worried that you only wanted to fuck. But you grinned and nodded, “I’d really love that; we even have a couch up there.”

He chuckled and stepped closer to you, placing his hand on your chin again. “A couch, fancy!” He joked before he pressed a singular peck on your lips; he wanted you to know that you meant something more than a fuck in the only way he knew how. He wasn’t exactly the best with words. You laughed back at him.

“Alright then, it’s a date.” You grinned at him before leaving his office; you would’ve stayed longer, but time really was running out. You were so lucky that Lucy seemed to be on a bathroom break; you didn’t have to deal with her asking why you were in Alex’s office for so long.

When you got settled back in the projection booth and the credits began to roll, you took a minute to think about what the fuck had just happened, and when you opened your phone, the list of his stupid fucking westerns was still on it. But that was Alex, and maybe you liked that about him.

A/N: yeah like i said... self indulgent (i used to work at a cinema lol). but i'm already obsessed with this version of alex ahh.

#andbreakmynose #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner smut #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #fanfic #alex turner #arctic monkeys smut

107 notes · View notes

manorpunk · 19 days ago

Text

The box was six feet wide, six feet deep, and four feet tall. Its exterior was some form of silvery corrugated metal, with greasy spots of finish and oil still visible within the crevices along its surface. The man, tall in a stretched-out way, his light brown duster draping over his body, knelt down and brushed his scruffy black hair away from his face, then popped the latches of the box.

The lid of the box rose on its own with a sharp hiss and a small cloud of vapor. Inside it was a girlbot, curled up in the fetal position, nestled within a piece of form-fitting styrofoam. Her exterior consisted of bleached-white ceramic plates, with sections of thick black rubber covering the joints around her elbows, knees, and hips. She had a wig of blue-green hair in a bob cut reaching just past where her ears would be.

“I wouldn’t breathe that stuff,” said the techie who was also there, gesturing at the vapor. “It’ll cancerfy organs you didn’t even know you had.”

“Cancerfy?” The tall man looked up and quirked an eyebrow with an ease and efficiency that suggested he spent a lot of time quirking his eyebrows at the things people said to him.

The techie shrugged. “Can’t say carcinize because that doesn’t mean getting cancer, it means turning into a crab. Can’t say metastasize because that means the cancer went from one place to another. So, I went with cancerfy. Point being, don’t inhale it directly, but by now it’s all dissipated anyway so the warning is moot. I just wanted to use the ‘organs you didn’t even know you had’ line.”

“It’s a decent line. Solid, even.” The man stood up and put his white Stetson hat back on, completing the odd, half-cowboy half-private eye aesthetic of the newly-formed White Hats.

The techie smiled. “Hey, thanks. Let’s get your new partner up and running, eh?” He stepped forward and looked down at the girlbot curled up inside the box, then paused. “Huh, that’s odd.”

“What’s odd?”

The techie looked over the girlbot again and frowned. “She’s totally default. No plate decals, no joint decals, no accessories, even her hair is the default option. That can’t be how you ordered her, right?”

“Oh, that.” The tall man shrugged. “Yeah, I just went ahead and took the default options. Didn’t care for the hassle of customizing.”

The techie stared at him. “But she’s going to be your partner. The two of you will be working together. Don’t you want her to have some personality? Something that says to the world, this girlbot belongs to…” the techie glanced at his clipboard, “…Johnny G. Newsroom?”

(The G stood for Goddamn.)

The tall man, now identified as Johnny, scowled. “No, I don’t, and frankly I didn’t want to be stuck with a girlbot to begin with,” he said. The line of questioning instantly made him less personable.

“But she doesn’t even have a prosthetic vagina,” the techie nearly wailed in disbelief, as if it was a personal offense to him.

Johnny paused, his tough-guy act thrown temporarily off balance by the mention of prosthetic vaginas. “Look, that’s how I chose her, alright?”

“Seriously though, are you sure? It’s gonna get lonely out there in the Midwest Autonomous Region, and I’ve got a whole box of those things in storage,” the techie gestured to an overhead door with his thumb, “I could have one installed in fifteen minutes tops.”

Johnny winced and tried not to think too hard about the techie’s box full of prosthetic vaginas. The whole thing was unsettling to him, the way so many men went crazy over their girlbots. He looked again at ‘his’ girlbot, in reality the exclusive property of Vae Victis Technologies. He saw the curve of her chestplate, imitating human breasts, and imagined the countless emails between the different departments of Vae Victis - Re: Re: Fwd: Re: Fwd: Robot boobs? He imagined the manuals, blueprints, and Standard Operating Procedures devoted to robot breasts, the engineers and machinists working around the clock, sometimes pulling double shifts to ensure that every pair of robot breasts met specification. It was not a heartening thought.

No wonder the shrinks had slapped him with a diagnosis of Obsessive Rumination Disorder, the diagnosis that made him ineligible for any position in the Global Logistics Network other than grunt work, the diagnosis that had taken his life off its rails and ultimately led him here, a member of the newly-formed White Hats, the tripwire force tasked with the frankly suicidal mission of patrolling the edges of the Midwest Autonomous Region and waiting for someone to shoot at them. And now he was standing in a warehouse, having a conversation about prosthetic vaginas against his will.

“Please just run diagnostics on her,” Johnny said, weary enough to shut down any further questioning from the techie.

“Fine, roger, I hear you loud and clear,” the techie sighed, still shaken at the presence of a non-robot-fucker as he turned and started to unpack the girlbot from the box.

Johnny produced an UmamiVapor brand chicken-and-gravy flavored vape from his pocket and took a long, calming puff.

#johnny newsroom #I shamelessly stole the savory vape gag from Lions Led by Donkeys

55 notes · View notes

emmcfrxst · 1 year ago

Text

for i am yours and you are mine; arthur morgan x reader

word count: 602

warnings: none. just some post-coital bliss with everyone’s favorite cowboy <3333 also i left it as gnc and non descriptive as possible, apart maybe from one (1) line where your hair is mentioned briefly, implying that it can be tucked behind your ear but you can ignore that part <333 feedback is appreciated <333

The ruckus of Rhodes’ nightlife seeps through the thin walls of the hotel room Arthur rented for the both of you, muffled voices of drunken strangers declaring wars between one another the soundtrack of your post-coital admiration of the rugged but handsome man underneath you. The moonlight bathes your lover in a silver glow, highlighting every scar, every freckle on his skin, your swollen lips tingling with the need to kiss, kiss, kiss. A calloused thumb brushes against your cheekbone as Arthur tucks a messy strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze soft. You lift your hand from its spot over his heart, wrapping your fingers against his wrist and bringing it to your lips, making his breath hitch. You smile tenderly at him, knowing that despite the fact that he knows your love for him is true, he still isn’t used to being shown such blatant affection— and still believes, although not as firmly as he once did, that he’s unworthy of it.

The thought still makes your heart ache anyhow; how could he ever believe he is anything but worthy of being loved?

A man who has spent his entire life caring for others —albeit in his own personal way; a rock for so many members of your private little community of gangsters and thieves. A man with a devotion that knows no bounds, who would sacrifice his own life for the sake of the ones he loves —and in a way, he already has many, many years ago. You do not even dare imagining what your life without Arthur Morgan would be like; the thought making you feel sick to your stomach. No, Arthur Morgan might not believe he is worthy of the unconditional love you give him, but hell if you aren’t going to keep on showering him in the deepest pits of your affections.

“What’chu thinkin’ bout in that big brain o’yours, darlin’?” The rumble of his voice sends pleasant shivers down your bare spine, your fingers retreating back to his chest, fiddling with the hairs there. An act that has, although possibly strange, brought you comfort so many times before. If only he knew just how free, how safe he truly made you feel. But oh, one day, one day you will make him believe it.

“Nothin’. Jus’ that I love you.” Your words have the same effect on him as the very first time you’ve uttered them: his eyes flash with a mix of awe, tenderness and vulnerability he lets you— and only you— see; a peek behind the facade of strength and nonchalance he seems to wear like a second skin. He shifts under you, hand coming to rest on your thigh, hitched up over his naked waist. The bedsheets feel cool against your heated skin, the sticky, humid air of Lemoyne still no match for your devotion to your lover, bodies tangled into one. You feel Arthur’s lips brush against the crown of your head, his thumb massaging the meat of your thigh lovingly.

“Still don’t know why ya do, but I sure as hell am glad for it.” He mumbles into the night, a confession you’ve heard so many times before, the meaning behind it still as deeply rooted into your heart as it was when Arthur first allowed himself to be loved by you. Wordlessly brushing your lips against his collarbone, you press your cheek to his chest and fall asleep to the thumping of his heart: listening to all of its little secrets, its deep desires and —maybe, hopefully —one day mending all of its broken pieces back together.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fic #red dead redemption 2 fic #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

238 notes · View notes

mulloey · 1 year ago

Text

what you pay for • mingi

you know what he’s here for (aka is it too late for a bouncy au idk)

warnings: western au, cowboy!mingi, prostitution, reader calls him sir but it’s not a kink, fairly dom!mingi, gentle choking, some slaps, threats of punishment, unprotected sex, me wrapping it up way too early because im tired

—————

He catches your eye almost instantly. He’s a little taller and younger than most of the regulars here, scowl on his face as he surrenders his weapons at the door — “Shop policy,” drawls the old man with an outstretched hand. He curses under his breath, they all do, but doesn’t seem any less confident even without his protection. Though you’re certain he’s never been here before, he oozes the confidence not just of a regular, but something even bigger. Something untouchable.

You watch as he buys a drink, served by one of the other girls, and downs it like he’s been waiting for it for years. He mutters something to the bar maid and she blushes. You roll your eyes, imagining he’s trying to buy her a drink but she doesn’t flash the knowing look you all share as you accept the most expensive liquor he can buy, pour yourself some tea, and pocket the cash. So he must be saying something else. You don’t know why you’re wondering what that is — the nature of your job means strange, intriguing characters by the dozen — but there’s something to him you haven’t seen in a while. Endless mystery ends up cancelling itself out, but even as the unpredictable has become expected, he still has you wondering about him. You need to meet this man. Find out his deal.

You stay perched on your table, chewing on the candies your Madame made, trying to look uninterested and passive as you steal occasional glances at him. You take in his broad back and the dark hair hidden beneath his hat before he turns around and finally sees you. Finally, he gets up, thanking the girl for his drink before he approaches you, coming to a stop next to your table. He puts a large, rough hand down onto the wood, just inches from your leg. He shoots a one-sided smile as his eyes rake over you.

“Barmaid says you’re down to play,” he gruffs and wow, his voice is low, low and rough and electrifying. It has you blushing, and this time when you flutter your eyelashes just as Madame taught you, you really mean it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you giggle. He cocks an eyebrow, amused, and leans in closer.

“That a yes?” He chuckles. You watch as his hand moves along the wood towards your bare leg, tantalisingly close. “If it's not, you can feel free to move your leg outta my way,” he says lowly. You smile, keeping eye contact as you ever so slightly move towards him. He’s toying with you — but this is your game.

When his hand finally reaches you, curling around your ankle, it’s not as dramatic a moment as you expected, as he probably wanted, but it does feel different. Good. Right. And watching his dirtied hand sullying your skin as he runs it up your leg is strangely thrilling. As a saloon girl you’re by no means pure, but the presence, the demeanour of this man has you wanting him to find the one last tiny piece of you that is yet untainted, and crush it in his hands.

His smirk says he knows what you’re thinking but, still respectful, his hand stills before it can go under your skirts and towards your heat, but his grip on your lower thigh is tight and wanting. “You work upstairs?” He asks and you grin.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathe. He helps you off the table and you nod at another bar maid, letting her know what you’re doing before you lead him upstairs and towards your private rooms.

When the door of your room slams shut his hands are already on you, up your skirt, across your face and every inch of you he can reach. His kiss is hungry and desperate but a hand on your neck puts him firmly in control. “Fuck, little girl,” he groans. “You want it?”

Your head falls back as his lips latch onto your neck. Your grip on his waist tightens. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Fuck.”

He smacks his hand scoldingly against your thigh, brows furrowed. “Don’t dirty that pretty mouth,” he breathes. “Terrible language for a lady.”

You laugh softly at that. “You’re the first— fu—” you catch yourself before the cuss leaves your mouth, instead going for a vague, strangled sort of groan and he snorts, but the pleased look on his face encourages you. “You’re the first in a while to call me a lady,” you finish.

“Well you ain’t a man,” he laughs. “Let’s just—” You gasp when his hand finally reaches your pussy, sliding into your panties and finding your clit instantly. He smiles. “Yeah, definitely a lady. Got the pretty little parts to match.”

A long finger penetrates you slowly, as gentle as if you were a still virgin, tight and unbroken. You push into it desperately, whining when he starts to rub slow circles on your clit. You’re more than experienced with men, but you enjoy this careful treatment. You feel almost… cherished.

The finger inside you finds your spot and you cry out, jolting against him until his other hand wraps easily around your neck, holding you still against the door. “Fuck, Sir—”

“Mingi,” he interrupts. “You can call me Mingi, I— fuck, I wanna hear you say my name.”

If you weren’t so wound up you’d smirk — names are not commonplace here, even regulars preferring to keep theirs private lest the sheriff come knocking, so for him to hand out his purely out of desperation to hear you say it must mean he wants you just as badly.

“Mingi,” you moan and he grunts, curling his finger inside you.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers. “Sounds so good.”

“Then fuck me,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Tellin’ me what to do now, doll?” He asks. “Don’t do that. You’re fuckin’ electric but I’ll spank you if you get cocky.”

You huff but nod your head. You strangely love the way he talks down to you, telling you what to do and scolding you like a little girl. It’s somehow different from the others, the endless men who traipse into your room and speak to you like a common whore. Perhaps the difference is how Mingi strokes your neck so gently as he humiliates you. Or maybe it’s the finger that fucks your cunt like no one has ever even tried to. But it doesn’t matter. This man is addictive and you already know you’ll do anything to get your fix.

His eyes are piercing as they stare you down, lips twitching as he observes your reaction to every movement. “I do think you deserve it, though,” he says. “To get fucked.”

You should be humiliated by the way you nod fervently, like you’ve been starved of this your whole life, but you’re not. Right now you’re capable of any emotion but unbridled desire and desperation. “Please,” you whisper. “Please, Mingi.”

“Get on the bed,” he orders, smiling sweetly as his hands leave you.

You whine pathetically at the loss of contact and he laughs, watching as you stumble towards the bed. You look back at him, waiting for instruction but he just smiles.

“You choose the position, angel,” he says. “Since you’re being so good.”

“From the back,” you say much quicker than you should have. “Want you to use me.”

The way he grins tells you he was thinking the same. “Ass up then, doll.”

You find the position easily, well-practised but your heart faces as though this were your first time. You feel Mingi’s presence behind you, towering over you as rough hands run up the backs of your thighs. He pulls up your skirts without a word, leaving you bare-assed and more vulnerable than ever. A sharp smack lands against one of your cheeks and it’s painfully delicious. You want him to hurt you, you realise. You want him to ruin you.

“Should I go slow?” He asks. “Or d’you reckon you’re wet enough for me to slide right in?”

You both know the answer. “Wet enough, Sir.”

He chuckles, sliding a finger in to check his grunt of approval is both gratifying and humiliating. “You’re right,” he says. “This cunt is fuckin’ dripping for me.”

Seconds later and his cock is penetrating you without warning, entering you easily but still stretching you. He’s big, you think. You knew he would be.

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it, thrusting into you fast and hard. Your chokes and gasps mix with the sound of skin slapping and his groans of pleasure. A drawn out ‘fuuuck’ fills you with pride. You’re tight even after all this time, like you were made for taking dick, a vessel for pleasure — his pleasure.

You cry his name over and over, chanting it like a prayer — apt, you think, because this is certainly the closest to heaven you’ll ever get. On the edge of bliss he pulls out only to slam back in again, pulling your hips against his to push himself deeper. His grip on you is bruising, as are the slaps he lands on your ass just to hear you scream. A single touch to your clit pushes you over the edge and you collapse into him, breathless and dazed but he keeps going, chasing his release. For once you pray he doesn’t pull out — you want him to come in you, pump you full of his seed, maybe even get you pregnant. You crave it like you’ve never craved anything and he delivers, unloading into you with a yell.

When you come to your bundled in his arms, held tight against his warm chest.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks and you sigh. You’d almost forgotten what this was, a simple exchange of services between two people. But it doesn’t have to be. Business may be business, but you know what you want, and you want it again.

“First time’s free, baby,” you lie.

He hums, not really believing you, but you know he’s just as addicted to you as you are. “Guess I’ll need to come back, huh?”

Yeah, you think with a smile. You guess he will.

—————

Heyy just dropping something small cus I haven’t posted in a while. Not proofread but please reblog and comment if u like this! Requests are still OPEN! Love🖤🖤

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez au #ateez x reader #mulloey writes

611 notes · View notes