#r’s 2k

[oncasette]

congrats on 2k! <3 can i request johnny lawrence w/ the song prompt "girl you really got a hold on me. so this isn’t just puppy love" for your 2k celly?

you were sick of this. of bandaging up your boyfriend because he couldn’t keep his head cool. because he just had to keep getting into fights, both in and out of the dojo.

“i swear this is the last time i’m doing this,” you gruff as you apply your third set of bandaids to his knuckles in the last two weeks.

“you say that every time,” he says. and you can see the way his lips quirk up, every so slightly, as if he knows you’d slap it off of him if he let his smirk win over.

“i mean it this time, johnny,” you say as you slam your first aid kit shut.

“i mean it this time, johnny,” you say as you slam your first aid kit shut.

“i mean it this time, johnny,” you say as you slam your first aid kit shut.

“it’s not my fault larusso is so punchable,” he says. he leans back against the toilet from where he’s perched on the closed lid. you’re knelt in front of him, knees knocking against the cold tile.

“you know, i’m getting real tired of you beating up that poor kid. for what? because he kissed your ex-girlfriend?” you scoff. “it’s pathetic.”

“don’t call me pathetic,” his hand finds your wrist, but there’s no strength in his grip. you could easily break free of him if you tried hard enough. “i don’t keep fighting larusso because of ali and you know it.”

“yeah? because i’m starting to think that’s all it is.”

“you don’t know anything—”

“i know enough—”

“yeah, we’ll why don’t you go and run off with him like he wants, huh? the way i think you’re secretly wanting to, the way ali did,” he nearly growls. his chest heaves as he drops his hand to his knee, leaving you to stand in the space between his thighs.

“johnny,” you say softly.

“that’s what you want, isn’t it? that’s what everyone wants. to leave me in the dust,” he says.

“johnny, no,” you say again, bringing your own hands down to rest on his shoulders. “look at me please.”

he does. he’d burn the world down if you asked him to.

“i want you,” you say. “i want you.”

“i want you, too,” he rasps. “more than anything.”

join my celly!

[peachebo]

I remember I had a concept about alternative ending of sl where michael brings ennard home and jus lives very normal life with a killing machine...

also here's ennard with da cat

[ambivartence]

Mingyu in Nana Tour ep 4-2 for @babytunninjadrac 🥰

[awsteb]

July 28th 2007

[wistfulwatcher]

#pit girl identity confirmed #the only way mari would let misty get near the food #is if mari IS the food

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[pocketgalaxies]

"i've never gotten morning after– *opens letter and bursts out laughing*"

[meep--tm]

jenga

[cloudabserk]

i hate my boss i hate my boss i hate my boss

[crystalflygeo]

Surrogate eggs ft Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: Egg-laying/Oviposition, semi-plublic sex, multiple orgasms, slight fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, breeding kink, Zhongli has a dragon tongue, praise kink, sex toys??, improper use of geo (can you tell I love that tag?), pet names, some pain??, aftercare.

notes: I disappear for a week and come back with this absolute FILTH omg. It really is just almost 2k of egg-laying made sexy because I am a degenerate and want nothing more than Zhongli filling me up with eggs <3 sorry not sorry.

Having a 6000 years old dragon ex-god as a lover sure meant you were already more or less used to a certain… spice in your life.

But this, this was certainly new.

“Ah- Zhong- Hnnhg!”

Your legs tremble as a newborn fawn as you stray off the main path and lean against one of the golden ginkgo trees by the side, panting and whining softly.

“Are you alright dear? You look quite flustered.” Zhongli curiously trails after you, hands behind his back, perfectly poised. As if he wasn’t the one making the cor lapis eggs in your pussy vibrate and tease your insides. “Do you need to rest? We’ve barely reached the base of Qingyun peak.” He asks, an amused smile on his lips.

“B-bastard.” You huff out with a pout and immediately feel the vibrations intensify. “O-Oh… fuck-”

Three. Three small polished cor lapis pieces in the shape of eggs, warm and snug and deep inside you. They shift and rub against your sweet spots, pulsing at his will ever since you stepped foot in Jueyun Karst, at first it was an odd sensation but soon enough your panties were soaked, juices running down your legs as you struggled to keep standing, sweet noises coming out of your mouth that only made Zhongli’s gaze darken.

“Zhongli…” You cry out.

“Yes, darling?”

“S-stop… mmh”

“Oh? But you seem to be enjoying yourself so much.”

“Stop… playing dumb.” You grit your teeth, clinging to the tree for dear life. The vibrations calming down to a soft hum, a gentle fucking not unlike his cock. “Please I’m-” You whine again.

You feel his finger softly raise your chin and your hazy half-lidded eyes were met with glittering gold, his diamond pupils mesmerizing and his stare soft and affectionate but also domineering, commanding, and full of lust.

“What do you need, my dear? Tell me.”

You choke a moan at his authoritarian presence, shifting and rubbing your legs together as the pleasure robs you of your strength. “P-please… Zhongli, make me come, please I n-need- It’s not… enough.”  

His eyes shift to the side as he seems to consider it for a moment and you almost mewl for his attention, eyebrows knitting together trying to steel yourself.

“Alright.” He concedes, and leans forward to kiss you softly.

Well, at first.

The geo eggs inside you start to shake and vibrate more intensely and you gasp at the sudden rush of stimulation, Zhongli holds you and pulls you closer, taking the chance to snake his long dragon tongue into your mouth, quickly deepening the kiss and set on devouring you.  

“Hmpnnng-” He swallows your moan as you kiss back the best way you can but it’s suddenly so much- too much- you’ve been teased and edged all the way and he’s- he’s just-

Your body shudders in his arms and you let out a high-pitched noise as you climax. Your insides squeezing and milking the toys inside you, dragging on the pleasure for longer and you cling onto him as your legs threaten to give up. Bliss, pure bliss. And he hasn’t even touched you proper yet.

“There we go…” His rough voice mumbles as he breaks apart the filthy kiss, his hands rub at your hips and you vaguely realize the geo eggs have stopped again. He carefully maneuvers your pliant body until you’re both sitting on the yellowed Liyue grass, his back resting against the tree while you sit between his legs, your back pressed to his chest.

He spreads your legs and holds them open with his own, you blush heavily as you realize his intentions, hiking up your skirt to reveal soft thighs and wet panties to the world. The flimsy fabric is soaked and clings uncomfortably against your pussy, more so as you feel the soft breeze.

“W-wait… right here?”

It is true that barely anyone ever enters Jueyun Karst but it was still risky. A lost adventurer, a lone merchant… you weren’t that far from the main dirt path, anyone could walk in and see you… exposed like this.

Your insides clenched, throbbing around nothing but the eggs inside of you.

Archons you really were depraved.

Zhongli rubs your inner thighs comfortingly before pulling your panties aside, his long gloved fingers skim your heated pussy lips and rub at your hole as it twitches wildly in response.

“Zhongli…” You moan weakly. “I’m so full.”

“I know, you look so pretty with my eggs inside you. Breathtaking.” His other hand rubs circles on your navel. The warmth within the geo energy sent through him spreading heat in a sensual way. “How about you push them out for me and we can be done. I’ll take you home so you can rest, my precious mate.” He nuzzles you.

“W-wha…” You mumble dumbly, but instinctively lean to his touch.

“They’ve been inside you long enough, and… we’ve had our fun.” He explains, kissing at your jaw. Two of his fingers easily sliding inside you, making you jump. “Don’t you think it’s time to let them out? I want to see you lay them.”

Pressure builds in your gut and you nod, biting your lip. Her works those sinful fingers in and out of your pussy slowly, scissoring them to stretch you a little and you moan. Not that you needed that much preparation with the recent orgasm and your… activities early that morning.

After all, those eggs had gotten in somehow, hadn’t they?

Only a few moments later and you feel ready, panting rapidly as if you truly were going into labor yet at the brink of another orgasm, you weakly pulled his hand away “H-Hold me…” You mutter heatedly. Zhongli kisses you softly and you take a deep breath.

And push.

The first egg slides down freely inside you, rapidly moving until it catches at your entrance, it burns a little but feels so good, lightning up pleasured nerves in a way that had you mewling before the stretch disappears, coming out alongside your spilling juices and onto the grass.   

Zhongli doesn’t hesitate to slip his fingers back into your heated core to soothe the sore muscles and play with your pussy a bit more, rubbing over your raw clit to make your hips stutter and your legs shake trying to close.

“That’s the first one, two more.” He says softly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he obviously stares between your legs entranced. You flush at his actions. “You can do it.” He encourages you, elegant fingers spreading your folds lewdly and soaking in your essences.

The whole experience is making you dizzy.

“I-I just… I just need a moment.” You pant, groaning and shifting your position a little so you’re less sitting and more lying against him, lifting your hips slightly and offering him an even better view from above.

“Just imagine the real thing. There will be more of them, slightly bigger and thrumming with elemental energy.” He growled softly against your ear. “Our children. Our clutch.”

It’s just dirty talk. It’s just dirty talk and it sets your blood on fire to hear it. You know his base draconic instincts are going haywire with the idea and archons you want that. You want that so badly.

Another egg stretches your hole and you can only imagine what it looks like as it slips and spreads you open. “Ah- Ah!” You toss your head back, let out a long moan and strain the muscles of your stomach before finally it slips out.

“Good girl.” Comes his smooth baritone in the form of a praise. You sigh in relief, rutting against his fingers as reward. You see slick threads of your juices all over on his gloves, the shiny eggs and your pussy, connecting everything together in a mess of a shiny cobweb. It’s obscene.

It’s so hot.

“Just one more, darling.” The ex-archon soothes you, possessively rubbing at your navel once again although you feel something’s different, like something shifts a little inside you. “Though, I feel this one is just a little bigger… closer to the real thing.”

Your eyes widen.

“No, no, no, you did it on purpose… just now… m-make it smaller again, please!” You shake your head frantically, digging your nails against his arms and squirming against the feeling of his fingertips dancing around your folds.

“Shhh, shhh” He cooed, kissing at your neck. “You can do it, I know you can. Consider it… practice.” You can practically feel the smirk Zhongli presses against your skin.

“I already came so much…” You whisper, tears in your eyes. “Zhongliiii…”

“You got this.” He kisses your temple. “Just one more. I want to see that sweet pussy stretch around my egg, please?”

You groan at his filthy words, hips snapping against phantom stimulation as your pussy quivers. You brace yourself and breathe in deeply before squeezing your eyes shut and doing your best to push against the overstimulation. Your hole stretches impossibly wide, widening against the grit of the egg and pressing against your clit making you keen. It rests there a few seconds, heavy, solid, before finally popping out with a wet squelch, dropping right by the other two, and you scream at the excruciating mix of pain and pleasure.

For a moment you can’t even breathe, much less speak as you rest a little. Black spots dance in your vision and your ears are ringing. When you come to again Zhongli is desperately peppering you with kisses, caresses and praise. Hugging you close and growling dark promises into your skin.

“-did so well. My little mate. My perfect mate. Want to breed you for real. Fill you up. You’d give me wonderful little half adepti. So good for me. Truly worthy to be a dragon’s mate. Should keep you in my nest. Love you so much-”      

Sluggish, you close your legs and pull down your skirt clumsily, ignoring the soreness and sticky feeling as your body sags against him in exhaustion.    

The dragon is practically purring, having mellowed down a little yet obviously pleased after having you bear his eggs, albeit fake ones. The intention is there… as well as the possibility for the future.

“We should go to the abode, you deserve a good rest. I’ll clean you up and get you something to eat and drink, hm?”

“Just a little more, Li.” You mumble tired. “It’s warm and cozy here…”

He chuckles and pets your hair. “Alright.”

[oncasette]

AIN’T NO SUNSHINE. send in a character + one of the prompts below for a blurb

jake seresin & sleepy morning voice from the roomate prompts!!

this turned into more just sleepy morning jake in general but i hope you enjoy!! i luv u!!

you’re about four seconds away from melting into a puddle.

you’d been living with jake, on and off, for about three years now. between deployments and vacations and a couple of your own job opportunities, the apartment you rented together had only been used by the both of you simultaneously for a lapsed time of about six months. and within those six months, you’d only been subjected to jacob seresin in the morning twice.

one morning had been blissfully merciful to your hormones, jake having spent a solid chunk of the night before puking up a couple stomach-fulls of tequila.

this morning, though. you hadn’t been so lucky.

“mornin’, sunshine,” jake says from behind you. it startles you, sending you sky high as you nearly drop the coffee mug in your hands.

“i would say good morning to you, too, but i need to make sure my heart didn’t stop real quick,” you say before you feel him press a flat palm to your chest. the thin fabric of your tee does little to dull the heat emanating from him.

“sounds fine to me,” he stifles a chuckle under his grin. he’s still so warm with sleep, a pair of joggers hung so low on his hips you can see the full band of his calvin klein’s.

there’s a new heat washing over you, as well, creeping up your neck and over your face until you’re sure you’re moments away from erupting into flame.

“so,” he starts. “coffee?”

“yeah! yeah- yeah, coffee!” you clear your throat before spinning back around to face the blinking keurig machine. “coffee.”

join my celly!

[levemetal]

Retired happy Junmei for no reason at all except let them be happy post-canon that's all.

[deaddovedaughter]

im such a bad kink fic writer because i absolutely cannot write without an abundance of added plot. a one-shot is simply not a possibility for me, it has to be at least a…fifteen-shot, if you will

imagine youre trying to jerk to a snzfic and the bastard who wrote it wont stop going on and on about the colour of the furniture. but it all circles back to sneezing somehow, of course, im not a total monster

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Naked Truths (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Part of the Purchase Your Time series

Summary: It's a late night call that brings you to John's house, and you can tell by his appearance - and his payments - that tonight might just be the time he starts to cross that line of his.

Content warnings: Smut (18+ only, Minors DNI!), blowjobs (male receiving), penetrative sex, oral sex (reader receiving), Reader is gender neutral (genitals vaguely described, no specifics)

Masterlist

Calling you on a random Thursday after two months of radio silence initially thrilled in your stomach and sent earthquakes through your hands as you answered your phone.

“When can I see you?”

“When do you want to?”

“Now.”

After confirming that you only needed a change of comfortable clothes before you’d be able to head over, John hung up first - another indicator that he hadn’t the energy to act like a normal person. Perhaps that should’ve set off alarm bells louder than your curiosity, but this was bringing you real insight to who he was, not what he acted like in front of you. The man who yearned for domesticity but hid behind charm and competence unless you dared to offer that kind of interaction in an open palm.

Within a minute of hanging up, you received your payment straight into your bank account. An overnight stay was indicated by the number of digits.

His house again was the location and it was just as you remembered, except all the lights were off and his truck was not perfectly parked. Before you could exit to investigate, the driver cleared her throat before she handed you a key. No keychain or ring to indicate it had ever been attached to a set before. You accepted and thanked her before closing the car door behind you. The slam and fading of the engine as the car sped away left you in noticeable silence, no greeting, no enticement, nothing but intrigue to bring you to the front door, which you knocked out of habit before trying the key. No surprise was felt when it let you in.

“John?” You called out, taking your shoes off and placing them beside a pair of worn, caked in crap laced boots.

A gruff “In here” led you into the kitchen. At the breakfast bar, John’s back appeared in your vision.“Hi.” You slid the house key across the bar, scraping the marble but not marring it.

John’s hand stopped yours in place, “It’s for you.” As you made a mental note to add that to your John inventory, give it its own identifier so you wouldn’t mix it with any others, John raised his short glass and revealed the heavy amber liquid that sloshed about the bottom of it.“Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.” And only then was your hand released to tuck that key away into your pocket. “How are you doing?”

Pressing the glass against his forehead, John sighed, “Been a day.”

“What can I do for you?”

John sniffed then abandoned the drink on the counter. The breakfast bar stool spun as he stood from it. The ice cubes filled the silence with their tune like a wind chime in a breeze.

In one smooth motion, John’s hands – cool from condensation – tilted your head and swept you close by the small of your back so that he could kiss you. The oiled bristle of his moustache paired like a fine wine with his lips cushioned on yours. Yet this switch-up from all previous dates had you hyper aware and certainly to the fact that he was walking you backwards, his palm cradling the back of your head so that you didn’t feel the brunt of the wall when he pressed you against it. Your own hands had latched onto his neck and midriff in the crossfire, tickled by this absence of restraint and annoyed when John drew away with a sigh and an apology. You calmly demanded for an reason behind his quiet “sorry”.

“Grabbing you like that,” was his explanation.

“I’m fine. You wanted to, I wanted to,” You replied, “It’s quite literally my job. I’m like a therapist you can fuck.”

Unfortunately, your humour resulted in John letting out an empty laugh and freeing you from his hold. But you were determined to get a real reaction out of him, so you pressed on his bruise a little more. “I’m serious. I’m hear for whatever you need: hearing out your problems, talking about things you can’t tell anyone else, whatever you want.”

Knocking back the rest of his drink, ice cubes clashing into his teeth, John swallowed then scoffed, “Is that how you see me? Just like any other client?”

“I see you wanting something, and you wanted that with me, which is why you called me. But you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.”

“Maybe you should be a therapist,” John tipped his glass over in the sink, letting it flip and fall an inch from his grip onto the draining board. Even though you’d made the connection, you wished he’d stop telling you to be in other professions, as if that would solve his hang-up over not having a real relationship.

“Couldn’t stand the paperwork,” You approached him, rubbing up and down between his shoulder blades whilst knowing you could never sneak up on him. “What’s got you feeling like this?”

“I can’t talk about it.” And his head hung as he pressed into the sideboard.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.”

This man with all his padlocks and precautions, preventing you from knowing anything he didn’t want you to – and there was so much left for you to learn about him. But it seemed there was still some learning on his part too. His mental hurdle, with the reminders that you were willing and funded for his delight, was one you would not trip or turn from.

So you hooked his chin and made him face you, “Then don’t.”

When you kissed him again, you let him pull you between him and the sink. Fists in your clothes, desperate to free your skin, John barely drew away from breath – enoughthat his lips still graced over yours when he spoke:

“I’m not in a patient mood.”

You held back a smile, “You know the limits and I know the safe word. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Gecko.”

“There’s nothing more to it then.”

Grappling with your clothes, You knew he’d take you right there on the counter if you let him No, he wanted a domestic paradise spiked with homespun thrills.

A risk worth taking, to get him to recognise how much he wanted this, you tore yourself from him to race your heartrate up the stairs to his room, the thudding of John skipping steps to capture you shooting adrenaline through your chest. Fear, manufactured fear that felt just like the real thing, trapped your breath and giggles in your constricted throat, growing tighter with every step climbed.

All air was snatched from your lungs as he grabbed you in the doorway, slamming you up against a chest of drawers, knocking over whatever knick-knacks or trinkets he had out. His mouth was hot on your chest from the second he pulled your shirt off. You found yourself fisting his hair to keep his mouth on you, his spit leaving paths of where he’d given you attention. Fingers dug his nails in like he burying to be beneath your skin. Crescent moons were left behind amongst his scars through his tight shirt as you matched his vigour.

“Say you want this,” John whispered into your neck.

“I want this,” You whined as his teeth threatened to make a meal of you.

“Again.”

“I want this, John. Please. I want it now.”

But still, he stopped, panting and squeezing your cheeks, your chin caught in the V of his finger and thumb. He pulled his forehead to yours.

“Tell me you want this,” He repeated.

Keening into him, your nose dragged you close to breathe him in. You licked your lips, like a wolf lavishing in the blood that dripped from them, cleaning of the kill in preparation for the next.

“John, I want you.”

The same absence of any personal touches in his bedroom would’ve caught your attention more, at all, if it weren’t for how viciously John ripped at your trousers, whipping them from your legs like a bedsheet fresh of a washing line. The ripple effect through your body sealed you close to him, seeking out a solution to the wet problem growing between your legs.

The slowest he’d acted was when he carried you to his bed. Legs around his waist, hoisting you and pressing you into the wall, stabilising himself, he left a bitemark on your neck before he moved you. His hands squeezed tight on your thighs before releasing you to fall onto the duvet.

For a moment, barely a second, John grabbed at his side. A wrinkle ironed itself free from his brow as soon as it appeared. You could hear him supress the hiss through his teeth, hiding the sound somewhere in his chest. Once his shirt was gone with the wind, you saw why: scar tissue on his mid torso, red with recency so not from this last work trip, at least. It did absolutely nothing in terms of inhibiting his desires, his teeth latching onto the skin of your collarbones again. You decided to curb his enthusiasm a little, though not to dispel the swelling in his jeans that was being rubbed up against your thigh.

Your knees were grateful for the pillow beneath them as you knelt on the floor and kissed his belly, your teeth threatening to pluck at the ridges. You could feel how John stared down at you. It pleased you when he cupped your chin as you undid his belt, and you smiled at him while he did his best not to pant at how smoothly yet hungrily you freed him from his underwear.

You sucked on your bottom lip for a second before repeating: “I want to.”

And you did.Scruffing the back of John’s neck, you pulled him down for a kiss, dipping into his mouth to stun him before you pulled away and spat on his cock with a concoction of yours and his. Your tongue lapped at the head of his cock and spread across his sensitive skin, following down the vein like a road on a map.

John’s sharpened breath kept you fuelled, both savouring this appetizer that was hefty on your tongue and his mood. His eyes were creased shut like the bedsheets he gripped in both fists, the adorable slope in his eyebrows peaked in the centre as he began to surrender to you. You continued to seek out his pleasure, feeling him fill your mouth deeper and deeper with each return.

At last, he needed no encouragement from you. His paw-like hand coaxed you from the back of your head, insisting that your nose be tickled by his curled pubic hairs. Droopy eyelids and a softened throat let him take the lead like he wanted to. Your thumb was throttled in your fist to hide your gag reflex, the other hand teasing his . Still, tears began brewing as he stuffed himself into your mouth. Deep breaths flooded your lungs with sweat and salt condensation.  

When John brought you back up and pressed his mouth to yours, his tongue stroked in your mouth like he’s searching for something you haven’t said. You didn’t know why that made you nervous; you had nothing to hide, right?

The pads of his fingers traced down to you, smearing your arousal across your sex. He honed in on it like a beacon and tenderly petted you. His deliberate pace riled you up at an alarming rate, nails digging through his hairy forearm, to stop or hasten him. Either way, delightful as he drew control from you, eyes drooping and mouth agape to free the gasps. Somewhere, seemingly far away, you heard yourself ask for more as you felt yourself building up and up.

“Later,” and John licked his fingers clean, “I need to be inside of you now.”

You remembered, then, that he was the client. So you put your disappointment aside and opened your legs wider for him.

However, as he was positioning himself, John’s fingers dug in and he let out a different type of grunt, more strained than a release.You opened your eyes to find him grabbing at the back of his left thigh, squeezing in an attempt to soothe the cramp that had ruined his stamina. Before you could stop him, he planted his hands either side of you and went to lean. Swiftly he was cut off by a wince with his nose and eyes crinkled. His hand found his thigh again.

“Sit back,” You instructed, and he knew what you were getting at. Let me.

The manoeuvre wasn’t smooth but it got you over him. Whilst you settled into his lap, he had retrieved a condom and a bottle of lube from his bedside drawer. Delight swirled in your stomach at the thought of John buying it in anticipation for a meeting with you, or even just to ease his nights alone. It combined nicely with the shivers sent through his calloused fingertips as he massaged the lube around your hole, finishing the work to open you up to him. Within the minute, he was pulling you down on him, resting your forehead to his, John matching your breathing’s pace.

When he asked, you affirmed: “I’m ready, I want this.”

Controlling your pace, John took things slow to start. All that effort towards your orgasm that was lost began building up, even if it got distracted by John’s hand awkwardly trying to rub your sex whilst you grinded on top of him.

“Not there,” You tapped his wrist to make him move, gripping around it when he met your demands, “There. That’s it.”

A contrived head roll helped you avoid his stare and all its intensity. It wasn’t all an act; you were definitely enjoying yourself. But you had to pad the role a little to make sure he knew that too. You were doing a fantastic job, you thought, until John pinched your chin and forced you to stare him down.

“Tell me I’m a good man,” He huffed.

You did as you were told: “You’re so good for me.”

“Again.”

“You’re a good man, John. You’re my good man.”

He had you repeat it a few more times, his movements getting sloppier but nevertheless determined to get you both across the finish line. His teeth graced your shoulder as he rocked into you. His arms locked you in and you groaned at the prickle of his bite and his beard.

At last, you made it to release. Breathing slowly through it, a smile broke onto your face as it rippled through you. It was amplified by the harmonising noises John made, the feeling of him filling that condom up, his body up against yours in ridges and curves. When he slumped against you, you squeezed around him a few more times – just to be sure.

You leant against his head, kissing the sweaty cowlick whilst enjoying him knead your ass in a slow rhythm of clasp and release – like a stress toy. He was keeping you in the afterglow.

“You ok?”

“Hmm.” His hand found the back of your neck to make you look at him once he raised his head back up, “Are you?”

“You took such good care of me,” and you nuzzled your nose to his, “No ropes though?”

“Told you, I’m in no mood for patience.”

“That strikes me as out of character for you.”

John gave a one note hum again, “Next time, I’ll take all the time I need.”

“Sure you can handle that?”

Confidence returned, John’s slitted eyes sparkled as he smiled, kissing you with his arms pulling you in close, no air between your skin and his and only allowing a gasp in that vacuum when he needed to remove the condom. He delivered on your aftercare clause with the affection he sought himself, you combing your nails through his beard and kissing the flattened hairs whilst he cleaned you with a cloth and kisses. After, he curled up beside you, keeping you close. You’d known you would be staying as soon as you’d seen how much he was paying you, so this was no surprise. You made yourself content rising and falling on this furnace of a man’s chest.Of course, you’d have to roll over once he was out if you wanted any chance to get some rest, but this was fine for now. Until-

“One of the times we were together,” John whispered, his thumb tracing the same arc of skin on your back, “Before I left, I told you about my day plans. You asked me if you could help, instead of if I wanted you to stick around.” He took in and appreciated a deep breath, his grip on you tightening for a second. “Felt nice.”

Raising your head, you couldn’t stop your brow from creasing at his words: “What are you worrying about?”

“Not worried, but not foolin’ myself either.”

But this was what he wanted to be told. He made it clear when you first met: he wanted some sense of a reality he was prohibited from. He wanted to hear you say this, and who were you to refuse a paying customer?

You made sure he was looking at you before you spoke, resting in his chest with your nose brushing against his, “I want to be here, John. I want to be here with you.”

You slid off John’s chest as he shifted onto his side, taking your wrists into his hands and all the while keeping you locked in a stare with him. Intensity darkened his eyes and sent a chill through your back that locked up. Goosebumps pulled you back against John.

“Say it again,” He said hoarsely, “Please.”

You swallowed before speaking, “I want to be here with you.”

His lips lunged onto yours, his tongue yearning for more of your taste and only freeing you from his intoxicating kisses to demand another: “Again.”

“I want to be with you.”

The way his leg notched between yours rushed your heartrate; his hands were guiding your hips to grind upon it.

“I want you too,” He grunted against your gasps.

“I know.”

Next thing you knew, you were pinned back into the mattress and your whined efforts were ignored whilst John parted your thighs and feasted upon you. Any woes about professionality and separating truth from work were forgotten. All that mattered was his tongue and the way his lines by his eyes formed, as pleased to see you undone as you had been for him.

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AN: There's a dark!version of this in my drafts that I'll post later, but also the brain worms are wriggling around putting Price through a Gone Girl situation still sooooo we'll see when that happens. Soon hopefully!

[wistfulwatcher]

#just a knight looking to her queen for approval

[dwtdog]

💀💀💀

this person going around spreading dream stan secrets like that is not appreciated 😪