#screened in kitchen appliances

[eternallyphan]

Outdoor Kitchen - Outdoor Kitchen

Sources of design ideas for a sizable, transitional backyard kitchen renovation with a gazebo

[ukusreticence]

doodles with the idea of the upcoming COTL update and the idea of playing it with a certain kitchen appliance

[generalhuccs]

Porch Front Yard Charleston An example of a mid-sized traditional front porch design with a roof extension.

[batty4u]

Patio in DC Metro Patio kitchen - large backyard patio kitchen idea

[rarasek]

Porch - Farmhouse Porch Idea for a large farmhouse tile porch with an addition to the roof

[prael]

STEPS

Newjeans Hanni smut (M reader) - the title is a hint to the TW.

6.6k words

Masterlist donations/commissions

It didn't happen through a cliché.

Well, maybe it did, but not one of those where she's stuck head-first into some kitchen appliance or something of that ilk, though you would say this really did happen by accident.

What? She tripped, fell, landed on your dick?

Not quite like that, but the point still stands. You didn't begin that day, or even that evening, intending to fuck your step-sister, but, well…

"My apartment. My TV. My choice," you told her, as you have so many times before.

"But this film is supposed to be the best. It's got great reviews. Dani loved it..." Hanni was talking far too fast to even really pay attention. She soon started reeling off a cast list and everyone involved, and how this review called it a revelation to the genre, but you had long since started ignoring her. You know how she gets. Excitable beyond the point that someone normally would be. It's an endearing trait, if not also annoying. The rundown of her reasons was cut short as she threw her body at you in attack.

"Hanni! What are you—"

"Just gimme the controller already!" She shouted right into your ear as she threw her arms over your shoulders. You held it out in front of you, keeping her behind your back so her arms couldn't reach; not that it stopped her from trying. "Just one time. Please? Pretty pretty please?"

You climbed up from the sofa. Hanni clung to your back like a young panda, with her legs locked tight around your waist and her arms still fumbling around. You grabbed her by the ankle, trying to pry it away so you could drop her, or something, anything other than letting her continue. "Alright fine. Just let go, you idiot. You’re going to tear my arm off."

She loosened her hold, just enough for you to swing her around; one arm and leg slipping free so you could throw her onto the couch. In your flailing she managed to take the TV remote with her, but the moment of peace, of silence, of satisfaction in hearing your idiot sister bounce against the cushions before breaking into a laugh and asking, "what the hell was that for?"

"What did I ever do to deserve the step-sister from hell?" You said as you flopped down at the opposite end of the couch.

"Have a mother hot enough that my dad wanted to fu—"

"You're sick." You cut her off before she finished. She smirked, lifting her sock-clad feet onto the sofa and settling in for movie night. She brought her knees up below her chin and started flicking through the options on the screen to find the one she wanted. Her eyes were wide in her stare, her lower lip bitten. It was pretty much the last time you ever looked at her in this innocent way again.

It was another one of those shitty horror flicks. The kind that didn't even slightly live up to the billing she gave it before. This, however, was Hanni's thing—whenever she convinced you, or otherwise, to finally give up control of your TV, she would put on one of these cheap horror movies and spend the whole night tucked behind a cushion.

As much as you tried for it not to be, it's become something of a ritual, pretty much any night that she was at home, and not unbelievably tired from being overworked and didn't have to be up at the break of dawn.

It's your acceptance of things like that which really showed how much the two of you had grown. You remember fighting for your life against your mother and stepfather to not have to take her in. Convinced that if she wanted to move into the city so badly, she could get her own place, or go to one of those company dorms. Ultimately, you were made to see reason. Your apartment is close to her company, and you had a spare room, after all.

Not that she ever stopped annoying you beyond belief.

The movie, if you could call it that, had you fall into a slumber, and when you woke up Hanni had crawled across the length of the couch and was laid against you, her arms wrapping one of your own. She didn't even realise you had woken up, staring as the credits rolled with a slight, peaceful smile on her face.

She had tied her hair up by now into a ponytail, pulling the hair away from her mostly bare shoulder, where the thin strap of her cropped pyjama top rested. As you peeked down at her, your eyes accidentally fell on the space down her top. It wasn't your fault; they were just right there.

"Shit..." you muttered, catching Hanni's attention.

"Still alive there?" She chuckled a little as she gently patted her palm against your cheek. You feigned a yawn and shut your eyes, settling your head against the pillow once more.

"Hanni, put something else on. This movie is dumb."

"You fell asleep after like ten minutes."

"Yeah, and it seems it didn't take long for you to use me as a body pillow."

Hanni pursed her lips. A red flush ran through her cheeks, and then she quickly sat up. You were watching her the whole time through half-open eyes, chuckling under your breath at her reaction.

"You're an idiot," she says. "Always have been."

You shrugged in reply, "And you're easy to tease, always will be."

"Asshole." She kicked at you.

She tried to kick again, and you caught her foot. You held her bare leg in the air and then lightly kicked her back, hitting her thigh.

"Let go! I'll kick you again. Asshole!" She shouted at you, again and again, struggling to break her foot free from your hand. When you finally let her go, all her struggles made her stumble off the couch. As she went, you kicked out again, this time catching her right on the ass. "Ah! Fuck be careful you hit my plu—" She brought her hands right to her mouth when she realised what she was saying.

"Your what?" You asked.

Hanni cleared her throat, blushing to the point of matching the colour of her red short shorts. "Nothing."

She turned away from you. Just standing there. There's a part of you that wishes that you could go back to this moment. You would have left it there and gone to bed—never kicking her a third time.

But you did it.

Your foot flicked gently against her ass a final time and you felt it. Something hard tucked between the softness of her cheeks. She yelped again. You pinpoint this moment as the catalyst for everything that followed. It’s the part where her innocent image crumbled before your eyes and that’s what allowed you to do what you did. Though really, can you ever be sure that if it didn’t happen now, it wouldn’t have just happened the next day, or next week, or a few months down the line? You tell yourself it was inevitable.

"Is that what I think it is?"

She spun around, facing you once more, trying to muster something. She stumbled over and stuttered her words. "No! I... it's not mine. Minji loaned me one for... just to try... it's not." She held the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "This is... oh, god. This is so embarrassing."

Hanni slumped back onto the sofa and pressed a cushion tight against her face. "Why'd you loan it?" You ask her, only to see her tighten her grip.

"Because."

"Because what?" You sat up by her side and said something that at the time you thought would make it better, but looking back, probably came off rather creepy. "I clean your room, Hanni. I have seen worse things."

Hanni slowly dropped the cushion into her lap and looked at you with a glare. "The fuck?"

"And if you're going to use my laptop, try deleting the history." At this point, you were just piling on the embarrassment.

"Fuck! Oh my God, what did you see?" She threw the cushion into your face.

You picked it out of the air. "Nothing." You lied.

"Bullshit!" Hanni swore. "Did you see everything?"

"Nothing at all..." you said sarcastically while standing up. "I definitely didn't see all the step-brother porn you were binging last week."

She screamed and jumped up. You threw the pillow to stop her and stepped out of reach. "I hate you! You freak!" she shouted, cheeks burning red as the fury rose within her.

"Says the chick wearing a buttplug." You taunted her again as you darted across the room away from her.

"What happened to boundaries!?" She lunged at you again, and you quickly sidestepped her. 

She tried jumping at you once more and missed, only to strike her knee against the corner of the coffee table. She hopped back on one leg with the pain.

"You're an asshole, you know that!?" she shouted, holding onto her knee. You stepped closer, thinking she was really hurt. Until she used the chance to lunge at you and grab you. "What's wrong with a girl enjoying some fantasy? Not like I want to actually fuck you."

You realise now that the proper thing to do would have been to match her disgust. Tell her something along the lines of how the thought repulses you. Continued to tease her about how fucked it is that she would even look at that sort of stuff. The whole thing could have dissolved, but it's when she had hold of you, hammering her fist into your arm, that you said, "don't you?"

Then the long silence ensued. The one that said a hundred unspoken words. As her punches turned into light taps and then to her just holding onto your upper arm. She looked up at you with her pretty eyes open wide. Her lips parted slightly and the tip of her tongue rested on the bottom one as if she had something to say, but the words wouldn't come.

That's the first time you kissed her. Your own step-sister, a girl who should be off-limits in every conceivable way. Yet she opened her mouth and accepted you in that moment. The taste was so sickly sweet.

It was brief, but it told you everything you needed to know, and everything seemed to spiral from there.

First, there was the confusion. The immediate aftermath where you both let go of each other to turn away. Your backs turned on one another as the awkwardness reached its peak. Neither of you was willing to confess the enjoyment of that little exchange.

Then came the passing of the blame. First, it was Hanni who turned to you with a "What the fuck are you doing?"

And you replied with "Me!? You're the one who kissed me!"

She scoffed and shouted a response, "That was all you! Stop being such a perv, freak!" Hanni stomped past you towards her room, face half-full of anger and topped off with shame.

"I'm the perv? You're the one who I hear moan through the walls while, apparently, watching step-brother porn! I think that makes you the messed up one!” you called after her.

A pause. The hesitation. The possibility of confession. She reached her door, and it flew open. In she walked before slamming it closed with a, "you're sick!"

You stared at the door and vainly said under your breath, "you're the sick one." In your head you had realised the real truth to that; how maybe you're both sick because, as the dust settled, you can only think about a handful of things.

The kiss. Her ass. Her cute little tits.

You didn't see her again for the rest of the evening. She reserved herself to her room, while you resigned to the couch with nothing but the television keeping you company.

It had been a long time since you had a shouting match like that with Hanni. See, it used to happen all the time when she first moved in. The problem with a girl like her whose whole world revolves around singing, dancing, media training and beauty is that she lacks any sense of what it's like to be an independent adult. It seemed like the fights would never end, on account of her being seemingly incapable of washing a dish, her clothes or even cooking the most simple of things without burning it or setting something on fire.

But this? This is uncharted territory.

The night wound down, and you were headed to bed, but you found yourself outside her door. Your hand raised, ready to knock. Your breath held. Right when you finally built enough courage is when you heard it. Heard her. Moans muffled through the wood of her door. Your stomach knotted. Your groin twitches.

You lingered, unable to tear yourself away. Even as your logical side began arguing with you that you were in the wrong. That you're probably the worst sort of pervert imaginable and you should feel nothing but guilt.

The other voice, the more confident one; the devil on your shoulder told you that it's Hanni's fault. You had just warned her, and this is what she did in response, like it’s all some sort of game. You refused to admit to yourself that hearing her groaning, whimpering, and moaning through the wall influenced you—tempted you.

Louder and louder. Her voice raised higher, getting to the point where you knew she was practically screaming in the throes of pleasure. Harder and harder you grew. The rational side of you was saying that you should ignore it. Just go to sleep. Forget about it.

"Fuck!" she moaned, and you remained, listening through the door—lost in imagination.

Then you heard footsteps. Bare feet patting on wooden flooring coming closer and closer towards the door. A rush to retreat and you slipped toward your bedroom door. You barely reach the handle before the door across the hall opens.

There was a moment. The two of you locked eyes. Every fibre in your being fought against looking down.

"What?" she asked with a stone-cold expression.

"Nothing." You said, and your willpower broke. You glanced down. Completely naked, she stands at the door, her nipples peaked to fine little tips. And your gaze drifted down her soft curves and slender figure, her wide hips and full thighs.

"Nothing," she mocks.

Her eyes glanced down for a second, then back to your face, and her gaze narrowed. You panicked, dipped into your room and slammed the door just like she did earlier. You press your back to it, the cool wood against your burning body. Your mind raced.

Her feet slapped again against the wooden floor and headed toward the bathroom. That should have been that. You slipped into your bed, frustrated and confused. The sound of the shower running quickly drifted through the walls, but her cries from earlier replayed in your mind until you fell asleep.

That should have been that.

You woke to the darkness of the room—not the morning sunshine—sometime later. Half in a haze, not quite conscious yet, but something had roused you from your slumber: a movement under the sheets and a strange sensation. Warm and damp. Your eyes flicked open, adjusting to the darkness. Your hands jerked reflexively toward your groin and then your senses sharpened.

Someone between your legs. A warm and wet something sliding up and down the shaft of your hardness. Tongue? Yeah, a tongue. Your fingers reached and buried themself into hair. Stomach muscles spasmed as your hips thrust up on their own. Your lips parted as you moaned, "Fuck."

You glanced down.

Hanni.

Naked.

The tip of your cock at her mouth, lips pursed around it. Her smiling eyes sparkled and her skin glimmered, bathed in moonlight coming through the open curtains. Hanni giggled when your eyes met. Your hand dropped to her shoulder.

"Hanni..." Your throat choked dry, and you pushed at her shoulder.

"Shhh." The word whispered against your sensitive tip.

"What the hell are you..." You tried to ask, but Hanni shook her head before sucking in a breath. Then she drew the length of your cock into her warm, wet mouth and the question escaped you. "Holy shit," you gasped.

"This can be our dirty little secret," she said when she lifted her head, fingers stroking you. "We can pretend it didn’t happen in the morning, but for the rest of the night," her finger tickled down the underside of your cock as she spoke, "it can be as real as you want it to be."

You remember being convinced that it was a dream. Maybe one that you would wake up from with a mess in your shorts and, honestly, that probably would have been bad enough—having a wet dream about your step-sister. Reality intruded and threatened to drag you back from your delusion. Hanni took you into her mouth again and it was so very real.

There was no doubting the pleasure, and it was too good to make her stop. You took your hand away from her shoulder, allowing her to do as she pleased. Maybe if it was just a dream, you could allow yourself to indulge in the madness just one time…

"Fucking hell, Hanni." The words slipped from you, and with it, her warm mouth left your throbbing cock.

You peered down at her. She wiped the drool from the sides of her lips and smiled at you. Her eyes were wide as she lowered her head and slipped your dick into her warm mouth once more. Your body jolted as she put her tongue to work. She swirled the tip along the contours and ridges, then licked down the underside of the shaft and then right back up the top, leaving a thin film of saliva on your hardness.

She clasped her hand around you and it all felt far too real. Mixed emotions. There was a cold sense of terror in your heart, even with the heat of arousal radiating all over. The things she did with her lips and her tongue made you doubt your sanity.

"Does that feel good?" She said as she took a quick pause, stroking her hand along the full length. She had just caught her breath in the one moment where she stopped sucking, the first chance where her mouth wasn't busy trying to draw the soul out of you through the tip of your cock.

"You were right." She spoke almost as quickly as your mind spun. "About... the step-brother thing. It feels sick, and gross, and... wrong. It makes me feel dirty." Hanni pauses for a second, seemingly running her eyes over your body and then asks, "how depraved does it make me that it gets me really, really horny?"

Hanni had no clue that the same thoughts filled the back of your mind. Only that you weren't able to string it into words like she did. She was right. It felt really wrong, and yet there was a rush to do something that should never be done. This was where the next step began. The breaking of the boundaries. The perverse excitement in the face of the taboo.

Her hand reached out behind her and pulled back the sheets that covered her body. She was crouched between your spread legs, head still by your cock, her soft ass in the air. The cool light from the moon kissed her skin as she slowly slipped her fingers between her plump cheeks. "And this only made it worse. I've been so horny ever since I started wearing it."

Her hand moved slightly, just out of view behind her, and she let out a breathy moan.

"Hanni. What're you—

You're interrupted. "It hurt a little at first. Just a bit but you get used to it, and if it's in a good spot, if you hit it right..." She kept touching herself in front of you, and another breathy gasp escaped her lips and then she looked up at you still lying there. "What are you waiting for? Isn't this what you want?"

That's when you stirred. Reciprocated. You sat up and she rose to meet you. In seconds, you were embracing. Frenzied. Wild. All teeth and tongues and roaming hands. Shorter than you. So much smaller. She let out a yelp when you grabbed her, though she instantly silenced it by shoving her tongue back in your mouth and kissing you deeply.

Pressed against your bare chest, her breasts felt small but supple, perfect little handfuls. Her waist is slender beneath your grasp. The thick flesh of her thighs was so full and shapely. When she opened her eyes, they had such want. Lust—pure and undeniable.

So close, and the faint whimpers at her throat are a seduction. You felt it was an invitation, and your lips kissed her chin, trailing kisses down her neck. "Yes. Yes. Yes..." she encouraged you lower. Your tongue tasted the saltiness of her skin, teeth grazing and then pinching softly. Her arms were tight around your head, nails biting into the base of your neck.

She trembled at your every caress, shook each time you teased a pert nipple. Gasped louder each time you nibbled her collarbone. You turned, lifting her, and then she fell back and presented herself to you. Her legs splayed open and her bare, wet cunt dripping, begging you to take it, but...

"No," you told yourself, "it's too fast," and you began a line of kisses down her stomach, beginning at her cleavage and trailing straight down her stomach. The muscles beneath her pale skin twitched and clenched in response and her breath had gone erratic. You reached her belly button and she hooked her legs over your shoulder, and when you dipped further she clenched her thighs and squeezed as you toyed with her.

You remember savouring the moment. Savouring the pleasure, savouring the veniality.

"Lower, please," she begged in the most needy voice. "Please, I... fuck, oh, fuck please..."

It's hard to describe it all.

Somehow, in the night, you both reached a state of understanding. A state of consensual debauchery that came with a sense of agreement; a pact signed with tongue on skin in this moment of depravity.

You kissed her, playfully moving between her legs. Thigh to thigh, to dangerously close to her wet core, and there you lingered. The air grew humid. Hanni's sweet scent filled your nose. You ran your hands up her legs and felt the warmth in your palms. She gripped onto the hair at the top of your head; her fists tightened.

"Why're you teasing me, asshole?"

Hanni's moans grew louder and more needy when you used your tongue against her. Her legs wrapped tight, hooking behind your back. There was something satisfying about her reactions to your actions, something exciting about seeing her squirm.

The tip of your tongue ran up the lips of her cunt, dipping between the fleshy folds and coming to suck upon her swollen clit. Her eyes widened at the touch, and her jaw slacked to the point her words went incoherent. Her whole body spasmed as she arched and moaned out something filthy.

One moment you had hold of her thigh, feeling her clench up and quiver, the next you found that your fingers had moved downward and pressed against her slick opening. At the slight touch of your fingertips to the tenderness there, a short cry slipped out of her again. She tightened and clenched around them as you pushed in deeper.

"Who's teasing?" you asked before you buried yourself to the knuckles in her.

A smirk formed, and Hanni was about to speak, but no words came. You pumped her at a steady pace, curling your digits within her while lapping at her clit. The taste of sin never tasted so sweet. 

The combination drove her insane, and it didn’t take long until you were on the verge of making your step-sister cum.

You wrapped your lips around that swollen nub of hers and flicked it with the tip of your tongue, faster and harder, until her many moans became one, long, drawn-out and passionate, as a climax rocked through her.

Her ass lifted off the bed and her legs quivered, shaking uncontrollably while her fingers tugged painfully at the hairs on the back of your head. She jerked and gasped with a look of ecstasy on her face as she moaned your name over and over, almost reaching a scream. Your name on her lips again, and again, and you were drunk on this euphoria.

She released your head, and you postured over her, still slipping a pair of fingers into her, but slower. She drew a deep, trembling sigh and forced a smile, watching you. "I hate you," she managed.

"Do you?" you asked as you drew your cum-soaked fingers out of her. Her legs rested on your hips and the underside of your stiff cock was against her pussy. You reached around her hip, to her ass, to the plug still sat between her cheeks. Hanni hissed at your touch, biting her lip at the sensation.

"Yes. I hate you," Hanni whimpered, giving the softest moans as you tugged on the metal. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Why?" you asked.

"I just do," Hanni weakly gasped, struggling to stay strong in the moment. "You make me feel things. Things I shouldn't feel. It shouldn't be this easy."

"In that case. I hate you too, sis'."

There was this moment after you said that, where you shared a stare. Maybe the most confusing stare of your life. Calling her sis', in this position, should have been horrifying. And it was, but only at a peripheral level. Otherwise, it felt surprisingly... hot.

You dipped into her for another kiss, and this one seemed ever more ravenous than the last. You kissed with hunger and her hand ran around the back of your head. Kissed as lovers would. She was just as aroused as you and eager for more.

Slow and soft, you rocked yourself against her wetness. Your length dragged between her lips, up over her clit, and down again to poke at her entrance. You moved over and over, enjoying the tease.

The slow, sticky friction between the two of you. Her breath was sharp, as you slipped yourself over her and kissed at her neck. Every rock of your hips, she ground back against you.

"I think..." She hesitated. "Fuck. I think I'm ready. Just... go slow?"

The guilt of what's happened was a distant thing, a buzzing fly on a summer afternoon. The kind of thing that when you're so enthralled by something else, it becomes invisible. Then, with a nod and a shivering sigh, she reached down and gripped your cock. You bent back from kissing her so she could guide you.

Her tiny cunt. Her beautiful wetness. Her forbidden, decadent treasure.

Her breath was shaky. Her next words came out amid a tremble, "I've never... No one else."

You brushed stray strands of hair out of her face and ran your hand over her cheek. You gave her the reassurance she needed.

She told you, a few weeks later, how grateful she was that it was you. See, for all the filth that ran through her mind on an almost daily basis, she never imagined what it would be like. It being you—who you are and everything you meant to her—made it easy. Natural. Wonderful.

That first time, you took it all so slow. With her legs raised over yours. Watching the subtle changes in expression as you gradually moved more and more of your cock into her. Sinking deep between her pink, delicate walls. Your step-sister, panting and squirming beneath you.

"You okay?" you asked her.

"Ah... yes. This is... I love it," she responded between whining breaths.

It was just enough, the reassurance, so you could push into her the rest of the way. Her hand found its way to your shoulder; bracing as you eased in, her delicate frame tensing as you buried fully.

You watched her reaction and tried to be still as you felt her slick cunt pulse around you, wanting you. She swallowed and gripped you with the muscles within her. The second of respite didn't last long though; you weren't sure if it was a request or accident when her feet tapped against the curve of your ass, but it prompted you to fuck her.

"Feels... fuck." You sucked your breath between your teeth and braced yourself up on a shaky arm. You drew out slowly, and you noticed her nails digging into the arm you supported yourself upon. 

You groaned in relief more than anything else as your hips pumped the shallow strokes that sent electricity through your body. She started pushing herself onto you as she clutched your back, drawing her heels over the small of your spine. You looked down to see her eyelids were flickering, and the sight only served to inflame you more. Her moans were so erotic and encouraging.

That first time, it was special. You took your time together to explore each other's bodies, the curves of hips, the muscles, the valleys and ridges. You caressed your stepsister's gorgeous body and then tried your best to put her through another climax, as if your efforts to reach your own were less important.

"Fuck you're so tight," you told her, during those final thrusts, buried to the hilt in her tiny, soft pussy.

She spoke, her voice weak and shuddering, "You're big... inside me..."

The fact that she held you tighter in her embrace and how it seemed that she refused to let you out of her even as she came apart was telling.

She came that night, again, this time all over your cock. The first of many times to come. A string of incomprehensible cries erupted from her in the throes of that first proper fuck. Hanni's thighs flexed around your hips. She clung desperately to your body as she cried into your mouth as she climaxed.

Not long after is when you felt it too, that impending release. A coil of pressure. Unfamiliar and intense. The mere thought of emptying inside her drove you mad. Your fingers dug into her hips as you fucked your step-sister with complete abandon.

"Don't. Not inside. Please, not inside," she murmured in an incoherent mantra of guilt and pleasure, right next to your ear.

You didn't, of course. You drove yourself right to the edge and pulled out. Her juices coated your length, slick and wet as your cock twitched in anticipation of the final moments. Hanni wanted your release as badly as you did. She took you into her hand for the finish, gripping tightly and jerking that first hot shot of cum onto her soft tummy. You thrust through her hand to let the pleasure course through you. Each thrust sent a long rope splattering onto her naked skin as she grinned up at you, flushed and sweaty, covered in your lust.

That was the first night, but definitely not the last.

The next morning arrived with Hanni in your arms—the little spoon. The little naked spoon pressed against your body. Skin to skin. She woke you with the slow rocking motion of her body, grinding her plump cheeks against you.

"I could get used to this," she whispered under her breath, smiling against the crook of your arm. "Good morning," she said to you over her shoulder. "Sleep well? You had some pretty naughty dreams last night, didn't you?"

You responded with your erection growing against the warm crevice of her butt and a gentle hum as her ass rocked over it. That was no dream. "I did," you said groggily. "As naughty as yours."

"Mmmm," is all she had as a response, lost in the pleasant distraction, grinding herself back into you even more. As she did so, you grew harder, until your stiffness pressed against the plug still wedged into her ass. Hanni had left it there overnight. "The thing about dreams is that they're easy to forget. Want to remind me of mine?"

You ran your hand down her thigh, and that's how the second time started. You caressed her flesh for a while, feeling the softness of her thighs while she silently lay there, patiently allowing you to enjoy her.

Then, you grabbed her by the knee, opening her legs and then she spoke, "Are you going to make your step-sister cum again?"

So quickly did she become so utterly shameless. You grunted in reply and then you held her leg up by hooking under the knee, and shuffled down slightly, letting your hard cock slip from between her cheeks and go between her legs.

You closed your eyes and leaned into her. Lips at her shoulders, the kisses soon trailed to her neck. She hummed as you ground your cock between her folds. Not even putting in the effort to try to actually enter her just yet, just teasing your stepsister for the moment.

Her voice filled with the sweet sound of passion.

Your heart began pounding and a flush rose to your cheeks. You could have written that first night off as a mistake. One you would regret, forget and never make again. Not after this. This is a definitive choice. One of sound mind and body, not under the tension of an argument or anything else that happened before.

This is different.

Hanni reached her hand down between her legs, pulling your cock so it would slip into her when you shift your hips. "Fuck me," she begged.

You did. You slipped inside her and heard her moan in such sweet ecstasy. She gripped the pillow she slept on the night before, burying her face in it, and moaning into it in such sweet rapture. "Fuck, yes, harder," Hanni moaned.

When she pushed her hips back onto you, her ass brushed against your belly. The rhythm began. Slow. Lazy thrusts. Enjoying every sensation in the post-sleep haze, savouring the fact that you knew how good she felt on the inside. How incredible her wet, silky, tight depths felt when you slid in and out of them.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your voice is low, near a growl. Your arms around your step-sister. It shouldn't, by all accounts, feel natural to have her like that, but it did.

"Yes, it feels incredible. Please don't stop." Your cock bottomed out within her. As deep as you could go. You groaned, and stayed there for a while, feeling your stepsister clenching down, her inner walls trying to pull you in further.

Hanni's hands gripped at the bedsheets, clutching tightly to them. The position pressed the metal of the plug between her asscheeks, and as your thrusting continued, the sensation sent a tingle through her body. It was a filthy combination. One that allowed every stroke you drove into her cunt to simultaneously send an equally blissful shock straight into her ass.

It was madness for her to indulge in the ecstasy—for both of you to lose yourselves.

You grew faster, and she unwound completely. She grew limp as she reached her climax. She couldn't even grip the bedsheets, or the pillow, her body simply submitting to the pleasure. She merely lay there as your hips battered against her soft ass, fucking her right through it.

Then she asked you, right after it subsided, "Ever fantasised about cumming on my ass before?"

The way she asked that made the question feel almost normal. "That the sort of thing they do in the porn you watch?" You slowed for a bit to deliver the tease.

Hanni couldn't keep the shy smile from creeping across her lips. "There was this one video where a guy put it all over his sister's butt. Seemed like he really liked it."

The fact she talked to you about the dirty things she likes helped it all along. It was the extent of her experience, the videos, but it helped. What it told you about what she really likes, what she enjoys... It became the basis for all your dirty experiments.

"That sounds hot. You have a cute ass."

She giggled to herself, rolling her hips, getting up onto her hands and knees and facing away from you.

You seated yourself onto your calves, giving her space and watching as she turned, giving you the view you craved. "I do?" She said as she glanced back over her shoulder, showing her innocence and naïvete in all its splendour. Her eyes sparkled and then a smile spread over her lips to match that look in her eye.

"The cutest," you told her as you kneeled behind her. One hand caressed the outside of her thigh while the other gripped the base of your cock. Eyes firmly set on that beautiful plump ass. That was the second time in just a few hours that you covered Hanni in your cum.

She watched every second as you did, barely managing a blink. Arousal and delight danced over her features in equal measure, and your name left her tongue in the form of a delightful, drawn-out groan. The effect was very apparent. With every streak and ribbon of white landing, she gasped and moaned while staring at the mess.

From that moment on, you entered regularity. It seemed like for months, every chance the two of you got to fuck, you fucked. Her room. Your room. The shower. The sofa. The kitchen. Against that window that overlooks the city's skyline. A public bathroom. A hand job in the car while you're stuck in traffic. Riding your face in a park, hidden among trees, grass, and bushes. Fucking, kissing, and biting until the both of you are exhausted and sore and dripping with sweat. It never ceased. Two insatiable appetites. Your mutual loss of control continued. The affair felt so exhilarating. An explosion of forbidden sin in an otherwise normal existence.

It all came with its fair share of close calls. That Saturday morning surprise visit from your parents where you answered their knock at the door and they invited themselves in, all while Hanni lies naked in your bedroom. How you sneakily warned her before she emerged and spun the story to them both about how she slept on your floor out of fear after watching another one of her horror movies. They bought it, of course, because they couldn't imagine there being any other explanation.

Then there was Hanni's near miss with her group. She told you all about how Minji had picked up on how something had changed with her; about how convinced Minji was that Hanni had found herself a boyfriend. About the look Minji gave her as Hanni protested, and finally how she got away with a half-truth.

She told the girls it was because of you and how you would work out together on weekends to make her feel better.

Everything was going so well, which made this week even more confusing.

It's been days since you last saw her. The longest you have gone in some time. Long hours and staying over with her members are one thing. Going days with no word or anything at all is another. She ignored your texts, never returned your calls, and stopped showing up at home like you'd come to expect.

No warning.

Nothing.

[dentistnewmanalapan]

Kitchen in San Francisco

[kiesbrainjuice]

— SPACE SONG ! kenma kozume

syn : your boyfriend is rather distant because of his streams but make it up to you

wc : 3.4k

tw : angst, smut, fluff, timeskip!kenma, afab!reader, ruined orgasm, missionary then cowgirl, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, reader get drunk (not during smut)

Kenma Kozume, once a skilled setter for the Nekoma High School volleyball team, had transformed his passion for gaming into a lucrative career. His YouTube channel and Twitch streams boasted millions of subscribers, eagerly tuning in to watch his expert gameplay and witty commentary. His fame had skyrocketed, leading to numerous sponsorship deals with major gaming companies, each vying for his endorsement of their latest releases.

You stood in the doorway of Kenma's state-of-the-art gaming room, watching your boyfriend of nearly a year as he sat hunched over his setup. The glow of multiple monitors illuminated his face, his cat-like eyes darting across the screens as his fingers danced over the keyboard and mouse. You couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness, despite being in the same room.

"Kenma," you called softly, careful not to disrupt his stream. "Do you have a minute?"

Without taking his eyes off the game, Kenma responded in a low voice, "Not now. I'm in the middle of a crucial match."

You sighed, used to this response but still disappointed. "I was hoping we could talk about our plans for the weekend. Maybe go out somewhere?"

Kenma's brow furrowed slightly, more from concentration on the game than your question. "This weekend? I have a sponsored stream for that new MMORPG. It's a big deal."

"But we haven't had a proper date in weeks," you protested, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Kenma paused for a split second, his character on screen momentarily idle. He glanced at you, his expression a mix of guilt and irritation. "Look, I know it's been busy lately. The channel's growing faster than ever, and I can't pass up these opportunities."

He turned back to the game, his fingers resuming their frantic pace. "Do you want something? Use my credit card as you like, buy anything. And don't disturb my work hours," he added, his tone indifferent as he refocused on the live match.

You felt a lump forming in your throat. "It's not about the money, Kenma. I just want to spend time with you."

But Kenma was already back in his gaming world, his microphone reactivated as he called out strategies to his teammates. You knew he wouldn't respond now, not with tens of thousands of viewers watching his every move.

As you turned to leave the room, you caught a glimpse of the chat flying by on one of the monitors. Fans were speculating about Kenma's personal life, some wondering if he was single. You remembered the conversation where Kenma had asked to keep your relationship private, fearing the impact it might have on his career and your privacy.

Now, standing alone in the hallway of your shared apartment, you couldn't help but wonder if there was room for you in Kenma's life of pixels and paychecks. The sound of his voice, animated and engaged with his audience, drifted from the room behind you, a stark contrast to the quiet, disinterested tone he had used with you moments ago.

You made your way to the kitchen, your footsteps heavy with disappointment. The sleek, modern appliances and granite countertops that had once excited you now felt cold and impersonal. As you leaned against the kitchen island, the emotions you'd been holding back finally broke through.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and you covered your mouth to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for Kenma to hear you crying over his livestream. The contrast between the enthusiastic voice coming from his gaming room and the silence of the kitchen where you stood alone was painfully stark.

With shaking hands, you pulled out your phone and opened your group chat with your closest friends.

You: Hey guys. Anyone up for going out tonight? I really need to get out of the house.

Ami: What's wrong? Everything okay with you and Kenma?

Yuki: I'm free! Let's hit that new club downtown. You sound like you could use a girls' night out.

Hana: Count me in. We'll cheer you up!

You: Thanks, girls. I just... I need a distraction. Things have been tough lately.

Ami: Say no more. We've got your back. Meet at my place at 9?

You: Sounds perfect. I'll be there.

You wiped your eyes, feeling a small sense of relief. At least you had friends who cared and were there for you. As you headed to the bedroom to get ready, you could still hear Kenma's voice, now punctuated by occasional laughter and excitement over some in-game achievement.

"I'm going out," you called out, knowing he probably wouldn't respond or even notice your absence.

As expected, there was no reply. You sighed, picked out an outfit that made you feel confident, and started getting ready. The night out with your friends wouldn't solve the underlying issues in your relationship, but at least it would provide a temporary escape from the loneliness that had become all too familiar in your shared apartment.

As you applied your makeup, carefully concealing the evidence of your tears, you couldn't help but wonder how long you could continue like this – loving someone who seemed to exist more in the digital world than in the real one beside you.

–

As you arrived at Ami's place, your phone buzzed with a message. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was from Kenma.

Kenma: Where are you?

You hesitated for a moment before replying.

You: I'm out with the girls. Told you I was leaving.

Kenma: Oh. When will you be back?

You: Not sure. Don't wait up.

You stared at your phone, half-hoping he'd say something more, express concern, or ask you to come home. But no further messages came.

"Everything okay?" Ami asked, noticing your frown.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, just Kenma checking in. Let's go have some fun."

The four of you piled into a taxi, the excitement of a night out slowly lifting your spirits. As you approached the club, the pulsing beats could be heard even from the street.

"This is exactly what you need," Yuki said, linking her arm with yours. "A night to forget about everything and just dance."

The club was packed, bodies moving in sync with the music. The DJ was skilled, mixing tracks that kept the energy high. You and your friends found a spot on the dance floor, and for the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to relax.

As you danced, the rhythm pulsing through your body, you tried to push thoughts of Kenma aside. But every now and then, you'd catch yourself checking your phone, hoping to see a message from him.

Hana noticed and gently took your phone. "Hey, tonight is about you, okay? Let's live in the moment."

You nodded, grateful for your friends' support. The night continued, a blur of dancing, laughter, and overpriced cocktails. For hours, you lost yourself in the music and the company of your friends.

It was nearly 2 AM when you stumbled out of the club, your feet aching but your heart lighter than it had been in months.

"Thank you all so much," you said, hugging each of your friends. "I really needed this."

As you got into a taxi to head home, the euphoria of the night began to fade, replaced by the reality waiting for you. You wondered if Kenma would still be awake, if he'd noticed your absence, if he'd care that you'd been out so late.

The taxi pulled up to your apartment building. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you inside. As much as you'd enjoyed the night out, you knew that come morning, you and Kenma would need to have a serious conversation about your relationship and your future together.

As you fumbled with your keys, the door suddenly swung open. Kenma stood there, his hair disheveled and eyes wide with concern.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

The sudden show of affection, combined with your inebriated state, caught you off guard. You giggled, your words slurring slightly as you spoke.

"Kenmaaa," you drawled, poking his cheek. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a cutie? 'Cause you are. Such a cute kitty."

Kenma's brow furrowed with worry as he realized your state. "You're drunk. Come on, let's get you inside."

As he guided you into the apartment, you stumbled, nearly falling before he caught you. "Whoopsie! My hero," you giggled again.

"I'm so sorry," Kenma said, his voice thick with remorse. "I shouldn't have ignored you earlier. I didn't realize you were so upset."

You waved your hand dismissively, nearly hitting him in the face. "S'okay. You were busy with your millions of fans. Who needs a girlfriend when you have millions of fans, right?"

Kenma winced at your words. "No, that's not... I've been terrible to you. I'm so, so sorry."

He helped you to the bedroom, where you flopped onto the bed, your world spinning. Kenma knelt beside you, gently removing your shoes.

"You know what?" you said, your voice suddenly serious despite your drunken state. "I miss you. Even when you're here, I miss you."

Kenma's face crumpled with guilt. "I know. I've been selfish and blind. I promise I'll make it up to you."

He helped you sit up and handed you a glass of water. "Drink this. It'll help."

As you sipped the water, Kenma busied himself getting you comfortable. He helped you change into pajamas, brought a bucket in case you felt sick, and made sure you had painkillers nearby for the inevitable hangover.

"There," he said softly, tucking you in. "Try to get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning, okay?"

You nodded sleepily, already drifting off. Just before you fell asleep, you felt Kenma's lips press gently against your forehead.

"I love you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I haven't shown it lately. That's going to change."

As sleep overtook you, you felt a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. 

–

As you slowly regained consciousness, your head throbbing and your mouth dry, you became aware of movement in the room. You cracked open an eye to see Kenma looking at you with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

You groaned in response, your voice hoarse. "Is it morning already?"

Kenma chuckled lightly, taking in your disheveled appearance. "It's almost noon, actually. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," you mumbled, slowly sitting up.

"Come on," Kenma said, helping you to your feet. "I've made coffee. It should help."

You shuffled after him to the kitchen, squinting against the light. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you.

As Kenma busied himself pouring you a cup, you leaned against the counter, watching him. Something felt different, but in your hungover state, you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Then suddenly, a realization hit you.

"Wait," you said, your brow furrowing in confusion. "Don't you have a stream right now?"

Kenma turned to you, coffee in hand, his expression serious. "No, I cancelled it."

"You... cancelled it?" you repeated, stunned. Kenma never cancelled streams, especially not sponsored ones.

He nodded, handing you the coffee. "I cancelled all my streams for the next few days, actually. We need to talk, and you're more important than any sponsorship or subscriber count."

You took a sip of coffee, trying to process this information. "But... your career, your fans..."

Kenma shook his head, cutting you off. "They can wait. I've been neglecting what really matters - you, us. I realized last night how close I was to losing you, and I never want to come that close again."

Despite your hangover, you felt a surge of emotion. "Kenma..."

He took your free hand in his, his golden eyes meeting yours. "I'm sorry for how I've been acting. I got caught up in the success and forgot about the most important person in my life. Can we talk? Really talk, about us and where we go from here?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. "Yeah, we should talk."

Kenma squeezed your hand gently. "Finish your coffee, take a shower if you want. I'll be here when you're ready.”

As you settled on the couch, Kenma positioned himself between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. Your fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, gently running through the soft strands. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on either of you.

"I've missed this," Kenma murmured, nuzzling closer.

You smiled, twirling a lock of his hair around your finger. "What, using me as your personal pillow?"

He chuckled softly. "Among other things. Your touch, your scent, just... you."

"Careful, Kozume," you teased. "Keep talking like that and I might think you actually like me."

Kenma tilted his head to look up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh? And what if I do more than like you?"

Your heart fluttered at his words. "Prove it," you challenged playfully.

In one swift motion, Kenma sat up and cupped your face in his hands. His golden eyes locked with yours, full of warmth and affection. "Challenge accepted," he whispered before pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

When you parted, you couldn't help but grin. "Not bad for a gamer boy."

Kenma raised an eyebrow. "Gamer boy? I'll have you know I'm a gamer man."

You laughed, pulling him close again. "Oh really? Then show me your high score, gamer man."

He smirked, leaning in for another kiss. "Game on."

As you feverishly clutched each other, all the pent-up desire from months apart erupted into a frenzy of passion. The hunger and longing was palpable as you devoured each other's lips, your hands greedily exploring every inch of skin. Words were unnecessary as your bodies spoke their own language, a primal dance of pleasure and release. There was no need for discussion, only the wild abandon of two lovers reunited at last.

Kenma's hands slid under your sweatshirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck as his lips met your skin. You couldn't help but let out a small gasp as he squeezed your breasts gently. "I need you," you moaned, craving more of his touch. With each kiss, the desire between you grew stronger, igniting sparks of passion like wildfire. Your breaths mingled, creating a symphony of pleasure as the world around you melted away. In that moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heartbeats and the overwhelming feeling of being consumed by each other.

As his skilled fingers traced a path over the fabric covering your heated core, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his hungry mouth. "That's it, baby," he murmured against your lips, his movements becoming more fervent. With a quick swoop, he removed your panties and shorts, exposing your now throbbing center to the cool air. As his fingers continued their maddening circles, his tongue eagerly explored your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. Just as you felt yourself on the brink of ecstasy, he abruptly stopped, leaving you flushed and wanting. "Kenma..." you breathed out, pleading for him to continue.

He slowly removed his pants, revealing the outline of his erect member through his underwear. "I'll show you just how much of a man I am," he said confidently as he peeled off his underwear, causing you to gasp in excitement. You couldn't help but admire the size and girth of his throbbing cock as it stood proudly before you. He smirked at your reaction and teasingly rubbed the tip of his dripping pre-cum along the edge of your soaking wet pussy. "Look how wet you are," he whispered huskily in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, he pulled back and only brushed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, making you whimper with frustration. "Please," you begged, gripping onto him tightly as he held your thighs apart. Without hesitation, he thrust himself into you fully, causing you to moan loudly into his neck. Your bodies moved together in perfect synchronization as he pounded into you with every ounce of strength and passion he possessed. And for that moment, nothing else existed except for the two of you locked in an ecstatic embrace.

With a predatory gaze, he slowly undressed, revealing the outline of his impressive erection through his tight underwear. "I'll show you just how much of a man I am," he growled with confidence as he slid off his underwear, exposing a throbbing and girthy cock that made your mouth water with desire. He smirked at your obvious arousal and teasingly dragged the tip of his dripping pre-cum along the edge of your soaking wet pussy, eliciting an eager gasp from your lips. "Look how ready you are for me," he purred huskily into your ear, sending delicious shivers down your spine. But just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he pulled back and only grazed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, making you whimper in desperation. "Please," you begged, desperate for him to fulfill your burning desires. With a feral hunger in his eyes, he gripped onto your thighs tightly and plunged himself inside you with a powerful thrust, causing you to cry out in pleasure and cling onto him desperately. Your bodies moved together in a primal rhythm, each thrust driving both of you closer to the brink of ecstasy. And in that moment, nothing else existed except for the raw passion between the two of you as you were consumed by unbridled desire and pleasure.

Your bodies collided in a frenzy of passion, each thrust causing your entire being to jolt with euphoria. The taste of his saliva lingered between your lips, igniting a primal desire within you as he devoured your mouth. "Kenma...'s t-too much...t-too good," you gasped, feeling yourself on the brink of explosion. But before you could surrender completely to ecstasy, he flipped you over and guided you onto him in the cowgirl position, his depths reaching even deeper inside of you. "Ride me, baby," he commanded, and with a few moments to adjust and find your rhythm, you began to ride him with reckless abandon. Your hands gripped onto his torso for support as you moved together in perfect harmony, both moaning and groaning in ecstasy. His words of praise only fueled your desire as you picked up speed, feeling the rough friction between your bodies. He grabbed onto your ass, guiding and assisting your movements as you cried out his name in absolute bliss. Every sensation was heightened in this position, every thrust and grind sending shivers of pleasure through your body as you reached the pinnacle of pleasure together.

Each powerful thrust sends you spiraling further into a state of pure ecstasy. Your cries reach a deafening crescendo, urging him to never stop as he takes you with an unrelenting force. His torso presses against yours, his head buried in your chest as he hungrily tastes and teases your sensitive breasts. The overwhelming sensation of pleasure consumes every inch of your body, building towards an explosive release that you can no longer hold back. With a final desperate cry of "Fuck! K-Ken...!", you both shatter into oblivion, consumed by the intensity of your passion until there is nothing left but the sound of heavy breathing and the taste of each other lingering on your lips.

As you both lay entwined in the afterglow, your hearts beating in sync with one another, a sense of peace and comfort washes over you. Kenma's arms envelop you protectively, and you can't help but marvel at how this gamer boy has turned into a man who thoroughly knows how to take care of you.

You trace your fingers along his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch. "I love you, Kenma," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion.

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his own shining with love and devotion. "And I love you too, more than words can express." He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your cheek in a tender caress.

Ⓒ kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1998 home in Mount Desert, ME is modeled after an old world Moroccan castle and it's magical. 4bds, 3ba, 2,773 sq ft, $985k.

As you enter the entrance hall, you can see by the intricately carved wood panels that it's Moroccan style.

Then, enter the living room and find the painted vaulted ceiling and pillars. Plus, there's a rustic stone fireplace.

Isn't this different? And, look at the wallpaper, plus built-in shelving.

The kitchen and bedrooms branch off a hall.

The kitchen is cute, but I wish they would've shown the rest of it. The cabinetry looks original and the appliances have been updated. Nice slate look counters.

And, then there's the formal dining room. Isn't it pretty? Love the chandelier and gate.

The more you look, the more details you see. Large room with unusual wallpaper.

The primary bedroom has a sitting room, stone-covered columns, fabulous ceiling and doors to a terrace.

This secondary bedroom is smaller, but still a decent size.

Pretty vintage-looking bath. This is so cute.

The house has a huge deck on the back. Paths thru the gardens in the yard look like a fairy tale.

Isn't this a beautiful view? The water is Somes Sound. There're 1.27 acres of land.

The 2 car garage is gorgeous.

And, look at this sweet little guest cottage. It even has a screened-in porch.

It has a bedroom with a fireplace.

Plus a kitchenette and a bath.

And, lastly, it has a gorgeous gazebo.

Isn't this wonderful?

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2-Pine-Ledge-Ln-Mount-Desert-ME-04660/91844913_zpid/

[milequaritchsslut]

Yandere Miguel

Summary: A peaceful dinner with your captor

Warnings: Kidnapping, fluff, hostage, yandere, Miguel being a sweetheart, chained up hands, slight Stockholm syndrome, malnutrition/malnourishment, forced starvation, talk of weight loss, mentions of blood, mentions of biting, mentions of bruising, mentions of marking, sadism (?),

‘What are you doing?’ You asked obviously annoyed with him, hands chained above you and to the wall as you glared up at him.

‘Don’t give me that attitude baby girl’ he cooed, his tone surprisingly warmer then usual. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek as he knelt down and began unlocking your chains.

You looked at him totally confused on the whole situation—he hadn’t come down in days. Let alone untying you and speaking in such a kind tone. It’s been 3 weeks since he had captured you and thrown you down here. You actually weren’t even sure how long—but that was your best guess.

‘We’re gonna have a nice dinner together mi amor’ he helped you to your feet, though your legs were wobbly and trembling from the lack of walking you did nowadays you maintained your posture. He looked at the marks and bruises you had on your legs and arms, all from him when he had to punish you.

‘Here baby’ he offered, as he picked you up and wrapped your legs around his torso—arms around his neck and began walking up the basement stairs.

You felt unusually calm, you still hated him—but you felt so protected and loved in his arms. You hadn’t eaten in awhile—and from that you’d lost a ton of weight, you were so small compared to him now. You felt like a child being held and coddled, but you liked it? You laid your head on his shoulder and sighed as he held you close to his chest.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t come down in a few days mami—I’ve been so busy. I missed you so much, I hope you know that. We can finally have a nice dinner together’ he says in a slightly sad tone, kissing your cheek as he walks to the kitchen.

As you listened to him, you felt slightly guilty from the attitude you gave him before. But you quickly brushed it aside as the realization that he literally kidnapped you came flooding back in. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his pity apology, did he seriously think that was an excuse??

‘Whatever’ you hissed, eyes narrowing as you looked at the interior of the kitchen. It was a nice home to say the least—he made a shit ton of money so you weren’t really surprised. The kitchen counter top was white and grey marble with brand new shiny appliances scattered nicely on it. The fridge was an electronic one—with a modern screen on the front. A shiny silver water machine indented on the right side of it, with over 5 different options for water.

He didn’t say much after that—he set you down on the kitchen table. There was a shiny white plate with golden lining around the edges. On top was a divine looking slab of steak—lush looking mashed potatoes and asparagus laid next to it. It looked absolutely delicious and you had to stop yourself from shoving it all down your throat. You were starving to say the least, it felt like your stomach was eating itself more and more by each passing day. You were completely malnourished and dehydrated. Your skin was ashy and dry, your knuckles were hard and scratchy. Your hair had become dry and gross—you had nothing to comb through it. Your clothes holes in them from the amount of times you’ve fought back and he’s put you right back into your place. Dried blood was running down your neck on both sides, coming from his bite marks—and a horrid smell emitting from your frail body.

The bones from your wrists were practically poking out from your skin—begging to be broken free from the flesh. Your weak hands laid on the table as your mouth drooled from the site in front of you. Hands trembling from your self restraint—cause you knew you’d get scolded if you ate before he told you to. He sat from across the table and watched your every move—grinning at your weak attempt to be a good girl from him. He found pleasure in making you wait for the one thing you really needed—so that’s just what he did, he locked onto your every movement for a few minutes until finally he spoke.

‘Go on and eat baby girl’

You snapped—shoving the food into your dry and deserted mouth. Hands rapidly picking up more and more until before you knew it—it was gone. You sat there confused—where had it all gone? Your eyes scanned the room for the rest of it, but came up empty handed. Confusion and desperation filled your mind and eyes, a feeling of helplessness igniting inside of you. Your gaze met your hands—food was covered in them. Mashed potatoes smeared along your knuckles and fingertips, pieces of asparagus shoved in between your finger nails. You finally caught on—it was you. You were the thief in this mystery, you must’ve blacked out while you ate. Now it was gone—your needy eyes slowly looked up from your plate and to your captor.

Miguel had a sly smirk plastered along his face—he had your right where he wanted you. You were helpless and needy—desperate for more. And he was the only one who could give that to you, and he knew you’d do just about anything for another plate. He gave you mock kind eyes as a fake concerned expression flew onto his face as he stared into your eyes.

‘Miguel…can I have more?’

Taglist: @jennieskimichi @addictiontowardstheinternet @rawegggohan @raaaaainn @horror-cassettes @adrunkskeletonsduck @nejirehh @222a1yssa @beiroviski @lana-4life @ladyfairenvale

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Aeternum

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: your life with Lloyd is a lot of work. Or rather, he is.

This is one of my birthday drabbles. Thanks again for your input :) Enjoy.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A birthday drabble for Carpe Noctem 

You stare at the small screen of the smart device. The smell of cinnamon fills the kitchen as you stand in wait of the baking desserts. You lean in to get a better view of the news segment. Your ears tweak at the reporter’s words. 

‘The sole survivor remains in the ICU with severe burns but healthcare personnel see a full recovery. As for those who passed, the survivor’s parents, they have been interred in the local cemetery and the service brought out hundred.’ 

They show images of the funeral; flowers, solemn faces, the front of a church.  

“Why are you watching that shit?” Lloyd, as always, knows when to barge in. 

“Alexa, stop playing,” you command the device and the screen returns to rest, showing the time and weather. “Just the news.” 

“I told you not to worry about that idiot.” He grunts as you face him. He tries to cross his arms then puts them straight, shaking out his left. He’s slick with sweat and his workout gear clings to his muscles. “I fucked up. Thought I killed him but the damn cockroach managed to drag himself out. What a pussy. Can’t even save his own parents.” 

“Lloyd. You--” 

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, mimi, your soft heart.” He leers at you and winks. “Softer body.” He sticks his tongue out and wince. He bends his elbow and rubs it. 

“What wrong with your arm?” You sigh. 

“Nothing. Old college injury. You know I was varsity, right? Coulda gone national but I made more money... doing something else.” 

“Right,” you sniff and go to the oven. You peer through the lit window at the spiral cookies. 

“What’s the point of me putting in all this work in the gym when you’re just fattening me up?” He scoffs. 

“You don’t have to eat the cookies.” You glance at the time on the small screen above the stove. 

“I have a nose and a stomach. I can’t resist.” He shuffles around the kitchen and surprises you as he comes up behind you. “Just like I can’t resist you.” 

“The cookies are for the shelter.” You stiffen as he wraps his arms around you and pulls your ass against him. “I told you several times not to touch.” 

“Mimi, you’re spending all my money.” 

You huff and look around at the spacious kitchen; stacked ovens, a hug marble island, a fridge with a glass door, a whole other fridge for just wine, and every single appliance you might need but have yet to use. You grab his wrists as he squeezes your hips. 

“I think you have more than enough. What else am I supposed to do?” 

“Have some wine, put on a thong, hop on my dick,” he purrs and rocks you with him, locking his hold on you. “You got your choice. The hot tub, the pool, sauna, hell, sit out in the sun and read one of your Austen joints. Want me to dress up like Darcy? Bit of role play?” 

“Stop,” you push on his arms and writhe. 

“What’s a matter, mimi? You weren’t so shy last night. Or yesterday afternoon. Or after lunch. Or in the morning.” 

You sneer and tear his hands away from your hips. You turn to him and poke his shoulder. He groans and rubs it. 

“Ow, you know that’s still healing.” 

“I told you to go to a real doctor,” you snip. 

“Mimi, they don’t touch me like you do.” He furls his fingers and his throat bobs. He runs his thumbs along his shorts and tugs. “Damn, just the thought—how about a cool down? I just chugged a protein shake, I gotta get it out.” 

“No.” 

“No?” He tilts his head. “Mommy, please.” 

“No, especially if you’re going to pull that.”  

You spin as the timer dings and you grab the oven mitts. You shut off the buzzer and take out the cookies. You put the pan on the counter to cool and hang the mitts again. 

“Mimi...” Lloyd drawls out as he closes in. 

You evade him. Keeping a step ahead as you scurry along the island. He pursues and you turn to face him as you round the corner. 

“I said no. I’m not in the mood.” 

“Why? Because that limp dick is in the hospital--” 

“Stop.” You whine and backpedal away from him as his advance continues. “Lloyd, I’m telling you to stop. I have to make a trip downtown to deliver the cookies--” 

“Really? You do? Because you don’t leave without me. Remember? Those are the rules.” He gets closer and closer.  

You peer around as you feel blindly and walk back on your heels. You pass through the doorway into the front room. You barely dodge the sofa and the little round table next to it. 

“Lloyd.” 

“Mimi.” 

“Leave me alone. I’m telling you.” 

“Keep telling me. It's making me hard.” He snickers. 

You veer through the next doorway and stumble as he lunges. He pulls back and laughs again. He’s taunting you. 

“Oh, I like this game, Mimi.” 

“I’m not playing,” you reach to grab the banister as you step towards the stairs. 

He takes a deep breath and stops. “Neither am I.” 

His smirk sends a chill through you. You freeze at the bottom step and gulp. You look up then back at him. In an instant, you’re barreling up, desperate to get to the top. As your feet slap on the stairs, his treads trail you up calmly. 

Shit. This is the last thing you need. No matter what or when, you always manage to provoke him. Every breath, every blink, every word only entices him. It’s tiring. Without a job, without your friends, it feels like your nothing more than toy. Any search for a different purpose just amuses him. 

You race down the hall. You have to make a quick decision. You burst into the bathroom and spin to swing the door shut. It bounces back as Lloyd shoves his sneaker between it and the frame. He shoves in after you with a taunting grin. 

You stagger back and search for any form of defence. You know it’s pointless. There’s no escape, no fight to be had, but you just want him to let you think for two minutes without mentioning his dick. You grab the bottle of hair spray and aim it at him. You push down and he coughs, waving his hand through the cloud of stickiness. 

He swats the aerosol from your hand and grabs your other arm. You whimper as he wrenches you toward him. He turns and pens you in against the floating counter. He tuts down at you as you push on his stomach. 

“Oh, mimi,” his eyes flick above you. “That’s a great fucking idea.” He grips your shoulder and twists you around to face the counter. “I’d love to watch.” 

He keeps you trapped as you slap a hand on the marble and try to shove him away with the other. He stretches the elastic of his shorts and they fall to his feet. You wriggle as he wraps his arm around you and leans you against the counter. 

His other hand snakes under your skirt. One of the many pieces stocked in your closet. None of them fit right. They all flutter a bit too high on your thigh. 

“Lloyd,” you beg. “Later. Not—now.” 

“Too fucking late. My dick hurts.” 

“Stop!” You throw and elbow back into his ribs. He grunts and nuzzles your hair. 

“Don’t mess around.” He warns. 

He kicks your feet apart and peels your panties down your thighs. The strip of lace strains around your legs. He bends you further as he feels around. He brings his tip down to your cunt and prods you, tapping, and rubbing. 

“Mm, I feel you shaking for me, Mommy.” 

“Please--” you gasp. 

“You don’t gotta beg,” he boats. 

“Urgh, get—off!” You bend your arm awkwardly and once more poke at his shoulder. He exclaims but persists.  

He lines up as he bares his teeth, hooking his jaw over your shoulder. The anger pulses in his forehead as he glares at your reflection. He snaps his hips and impales you with a growl. You cry out and brace the counter as your legs buckle. 

“Ow!” You plead with him in the mirror. Eyes misty, eyes pouting. 

His lips curve deeper as he thrusts, jerking your hip bones into the marble. His hand crawls up to your chest and he squeezes your chest with a snarl. He tilts his head and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. He ruts as his eyes blaze back at you from the glass. 

His hand snakes down your stomach and delves beneath your skirt. You hide beneath your eyelids as he finds your clit. He flicks over your hood and you spasm. You mewl as he does it again and again. Worse than his strength is his talent at toying with you. Even as you resist, he finds your weak spot and needles away at it. 

“Mmm,” he purrs as he unlatches his teeth and kisses up your neck. 

His mustache tickles as he pounds against your ass, fingers sliding around your slickness, breath fogging around your chest. Your thighs quiver and your feet arch. You bend forward a little more and he hits just the right spot. 

You cum in a ripple of pathetic moans. You’re breathless and weak. You slump onto your elbow and he growls as you open to him completely.  

He frames your hips and pumps into you until his motion turns erratic. He groans and grunts, digging his nails through the fabric as he pulls out. He cums down your thigh as you hang off the counter.

He lets out a gurgle and snaps his knuckles against your ass. He moves rigidly as he turns and leans his bare ass on the marble beside you. He rubs your back as you gulp and catch your breath.

You stand up but he stops you from grabbing a tissue to wipe up. He’s shameless as his shorts still cling around one ankle. 

“Hey, baby cakes, get my shorts for me? Think I pulled something.” 

You scowl at him as he emphatically clutches his side. You sniff and wave him off. You grab a washcloth and wet it under the faucet. You wipe yourself off and toss the balled fabric into the sink. 

“Pull your own shorts up,” you sneer. 

“I mean it, Mimi, my back’s all sorts of locked up. You got me all bound up.” He gives a pathetic whimper. “Please, take care of me like you always do.” 

You shake your head and squat down to grab the shimmering puddle of shorts. This is ridiculous. He lifts his feet to hook it through and as you tug them up his legs, an odd weight hangs in the flimsy fabric. His dick twitches just as you cover it up and let the elastic snap him meanly. 

“You feel that, Mimi,” he catches your hand and pulls it back to him. You try to shake him off but can’t. “Am I happy to see you or is that a ring in my pocket?” He brushes your palm over his dick and to his pocket. The shape you felt is sharper than you expect. You look up at him in confusion. 

“You didn’t even give me a chance to get on one knee.” 

He guides your hand to the top of his pocket and lets go. Your heart thumps as you reach inside and pull out the heart-shaped box. The lid opens like wings from the middle. You reveal the sapphire trimmed diamond inside. Each stone bigger than the next. 

You gape at the sparkling cluster. Lloyd chuckles and strokes your cheek. He cups your chin and raises it. As you look at him, he smirks again. 

“You take care of me, I take care of you,” he traces his thumb along your lip. “Speaking of, I’m fucking serious about my back. Can I get some help?” 

[hanalulugguk]

choso headcannons

recently got pressured into watching jjk and i've been so madly obsessed with choso since the moment he came on screen. he's such a little buttercup with his awkward reactions and facial expression.

Thinking of newly human choso

Newly human choso who waits outside of your work, hours before you were done, because he was too excited to wait longer and wanted to see you once you were done.

Newly human choso who learns the internet and it's secrets, using it to look up different restaurants and cafes for the two of you to try.

Newly human choso who sits in the booth every time the two of you visit a cafe that has one, scurrying over to it, not because he knows you'll take it, but because he's excited to bounce on the soft cushion.

Newly human choso who bounces in place once he sees your order coming, stopping only once he's taken the first bite of his food. opting to swing his legs back and forth so he can eat.

Newly human choso who wants to ask if he can have bite of your plate if you got something different, but is too nervous too. but because he hasn't learned the concept of self perception so he doesn't know that he's more than obvious with his stolen glances at your food.

Newly human choso who nods, excited, once you offer him a taste. cutting up a bit of everything for him to try, leaning excitedly to try, letting out a small hum as he chews.

Newly human choso who intently watches all your interest shows and movies, almost more intently than you, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you bundle up on the couch in front of the tv, or as you lay together in bed with your laptop. he absolutely adores when you lay on your stomach and he gets to lay half on top of you, sneaking his arms under you and lay his cheek on top of your head

Newly human choso who tells you he doesn't mind what you watch when you ask, even though you can tell he's garnered a favourite of them, being too obvious when you put it on for him.

Newly human choso who tries to learn how to cook so he can make you something but the amount of pots and pans and appliances that use heat are too overwhelming for him so you reassure him that he doesn't need to.

Newly human choso who always sits on the stool closest to you in the kitchen, turning his body towards you as you go from one place to another as you go about from one counter to another.

Newly human choso who tries his best to be as much of a helping hand as he can, trying to get you the exact pan you asked for, or the ingredients from the fridge you forgot to pull out. over time having memorized the ingredients to the dishes you make frequently, having everything already pulled out by the time you get to the kitchen if he knows what you're making.

Newly human choso who finds you to be the most beautiful person he's ever seen. sitting on the foot of the bed as you get ready to go out.

Newly human choso who presses too many kisses to your cheeks and stealing one last kiss as you leave the house, making sure to get enough sustenance for the time you'll spend out.

Newly human choso who tries his absolute best to stay up and wait for you, not liking going to bed without you, but he's so so tired that he didn't notice himself drifting off on the couch, but stirs once he hears the front door open.

Newly human choso who remains stuck to you as you go about getting unready, washing your face, doing your skincare. all whilst he has his arms wrapped around your waist, but you're used to it because when does he not.

Newly human choso who holds you once the two of you get in bed, but it's only a matter of time till he's the one being held, sleeping so peacefully with your arms wrapped around him.

i have sooo many more in mind i already have another one halfway written. so so in love with socially awkward curious choso!

taglist (open/ send an ask to be added)

if u enjoyed this, consider liking/reblogging to support <3

divider credits @fairytopea

[valkyriexo]

Hey Val

Can you please write about Chan comforting you during a thunderstorm? I have a fear, and sometimes I think it's really stupid, but I think Chan would be so comforting? thank u!!

You're Scared of Thunderstorms | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff

ᑉ³warnings; Thunderstorms, Anxiety

ᑉ³Authors Note; Hope you all enjoy :) thank you for the request!

It was a quiet, peaceful evening. You were nestled comfortably in your bed, the soft glow of the television casting a warm light across your cozy bedroom. The rain pattered gently against the windows, creating a soothing backdrop to your movie night.

Your bedroom was your sanctuary. The walls were painted a soft, calming color, and your bed was piled high with plush pillows and a thick, fluffy comforter. You had a cup of hot cocoa on your bedside table, its warmth radiating through the mug.

You were watching your favorite feel-good movie, a romantic comedy that never failed to lift your spirits. The lead had just confessed his love for the girl in a beautifully lit park, and you couldn’t help but smile at the screen.

Just as the movie reached a heartwarming climax, the power suddenly went out. The television screen went dark, and the room was plunged into darkness. The comforting hum of the appliances ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a wave of unease wash over you.

Moments later, a loud crack of thunder split the air, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the room for a split second. The storm had arrived in full force, and you hadn't checked the weather. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of panic surged through you. You pulled the comforter up to your chin, trying to calm your racing heart, but the ominous rumbling and flashes of lightning outside only intensified your anxiety.

The house, which moments ago had felt like a safe haven, now seemed oppressive and dark. Each burst of thunder resonated through the walls. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one felt shallow and ineffective. Memories of past storms played in your mind—times when the thunder seemed endless, when you felt helpless and small against the raging elements.

Your fear of thunderstorms had roots deep in your childhood. You remembered one night in particular, when a fierce storm had knocked out the power for hours. You had been alone, hiding under your bed, every thunderclap feeling like it would shatter the world around you. Even now, as an adult, the raw terror of those nights lingered, resurfacing with every storm.

Another crash of thunder jolted you, and you found yourself trembling uncontrollably. The flashes of lightning seemed almost to mock your fear, each one revealing the room in stark, harsh relief before plunging it back into darkness. You felt trapped, as though the storm was pressing in on you from all sides, leaving no escape.

You tried to focus on the small, comforting details of your room—the scent of lavender, the softness of your pillows—but it was no use. The storm was all-consuming. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, and you fought the urge to cry. 

Just then, you noticed a flash of light, but this time it wasn't from the storm—it was from your phone. You picked it up with shaking hands and saw a series of messages from Chan.

You took a deep breath, feeling a small surge of comfort from his concern. With trembling fingers, you typed a response.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus on Chan's words. The memory of that day in the kitchen brought a small smile to your face. You remembered the warmth of his arms around you, the sweet scent of cookies baking, and the sound of your laughter mingling with his. It was a happy, safe memory. But another loud thunderclap quickly snuffed out any relief you felt.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt paralyzed with fear, unable to move or think clearly.

Your phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another message from Chan.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands trembling, before finally pressing the call button. The phone rang twice before Chan's voice came through, calm and reassuring.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I'm right here," he said softly.

"Chan," you whispered, your voice shaking.

"I'm coming over," he said firmly. "I can't leave you alone like this."

"But what about your dinner plans?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and guilt.

"They can wait. You're more important," he replied without hesitation.

"No... Please don't cancel your plans because of me," you said, your voice wavering as you tried to sound brave. "It's gonna make me feel worse. It's just raining... It's just rain... I can do this." The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, shaking with fear. "I can be alone... Go with your friends."

Another super loud thunderclap struck, reverberating through the house and shaking the walls. You shrieked in fear, tears streaming down your face as you clutched the phone tighter, your whole body trembling.

"Baby, I know you're scared," Chan's voice was filled with concern. "I promise you're safe. It's just a storm, and you're inside. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"But the house is shaking," you cried, your tears blurring your vision as the fear threatened to overwhelm you.

"I know it's scary, but I swear you're safe. Just hang on a little longer. I'm almost there," he reassured you, his voice steady and comforting. "Just keep talking to me. You're doing great. Remember, it's just a storm. You're safe inside."

Another crash of thunder made you flinch, and you felt tears falling from your eyes. "I can't... I can't do this," you choked out.

"You can, baby. You're so strong, and I'm so proud of you. Just a little longer, okay? Remember when we went to that carnival, and you were so scared to go on the Ferris wheel? But you did it, and we had the best time. This is just like that. You can do this," Chan said, his voice gentle and encouraging.

The minutes stretched on like hours as you waited, every crash of thunder making you jump. You tried to focus on Chan's voice, his calm, steady words keeping you tethered as the storm raged outside.

"I'm going to use the spare key to come in, okay? Don't be scared. It's just me." Finally, you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Relief washed over you as you realized Chan was here. You heard his footsteps coming down the hallway, and then he was there, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, his presence instantly calming you.

Without hesitation, Chan sprinted across the room and scooped you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. "It's okay, baby. I've got you," he murmured.

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears flowed freely. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek was grounding, and you felt the storm's hold on you beginning to loosen.

Chan kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles. "I'm here now. You're safe. Nothing can hurt you when I'm with you," he whispered, his breath warm against your hair.

Another clap of thunder rumbled through the house, but this time, it felt distant, less threatening with Chan's arms around you. He rocked you gently, his presence a fortress against the storm.

"Listen to me, baby," Chan said, his voice right by your ear. He tilted your head slightly so his mouth was close to your ear, and you could feel his breath against your skin. "Focus on my voice. Just listen to me." His words were deliberate, each one spoken to cover the sound of the thunder.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Chan. This fear is so stupid. I shouldn't have pulled you away from your friends."

"Hey, hey," Chan interrupted gently, his voice soft and filled with love. "Don't apologize. This isn't stupid. Your feelings are never stupid."

"But I—" you started to say, but he shushed you softly.

"Shh, listen to me. There’s nothing to be sorry about," he reassured you. "I love everything about you. Your fear of thunderstorms doesn’t change that. It’s part of who you are, and I love every part of you."

Another roll of thunder echoed outside, but Chan’s voice kept you anchored. "I love how you light up when you talk about your favorite books. I love how kind you are to everyone, even strangers. I love your laugh, your smile, the way you make me feel when I’m around you."

His voice was steady, filled with a sincerity that melted your anxiety. "I love how you make me cookies when I've had a long day, how you remember the little things that make me happy. You make my life so much better just by being in it."

"I love how brave you are," he whispered, his lips close to your ear. "Even when you don't feel it, you’re stronger than you know."

You gripped onto his shirt for dear life, your fingers clutching the fabric as if it were a lifeline. You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"I’m here, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "And I’ll always be here. You never have to face anything alone. Not thunderstorms, not anything. I love you, exactly as you are."

The storm outside continued, but with Chan’s arms around you and his loving words filling your ear, it felt like a distant worry. You snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his love and the safety of his embrace.

"I'm so lucky to have you," you whispered back, your voice filled with gratitude.

"And I'm lucky to have you," Chan replied, his voice full of warmth. "Now and always."

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

ઇଓ Taglist

@kayleefriedchicken  @stellasays45 @beautyandmentalbreakdown @bo-fairykim @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@seunghancore @skzruby  @Miss-delaneyrose @kimahreummm @user09876512345678 

@palindrome969

Red means you are not able to be tagged! Please Send me a dm to get removed from the taglist.

[baka-bakeneko]

Bad Things - Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x gn! Reader (afab biology)

tags: Black Cat (sorta) reader, canon-Miguel aggression, choking, fighting/canon-typical violence, hint to cnc, predator/prey, teasing, cute aggression, establishing dominance, dry-humping, brat behavior, oral (reader/miguel), doggy-style, animal-like aggression, creampie

part two here

word count: 4.68k

synopsis: You find yourself on Miguel O'Hara's canon divergence radar.

a/n: honestly, someone buy me a drink rn. someone sedate me, pls

*

Fuck a canon event.

Seriously.

You couldn't care anymore about a canon event than you did your next steal. So there was no way you were ever on any Spidey's good side.

Every Spider you encountered were none too pleased with your wry wit and quick-footing, making their job a little more difficult than usual. Unlike the many unhinged villains they encountered, you were both sane and a downright asshole.

Who cared about the balance of good and evil when there was so much fun in watching chaos? Everyday being the same was boring, sometimes the drama made it worth while.

After a successful heist stealing a jeweler parlor, you made your way back to your apartment to inspect your earnings.

Diamonds, while a girl's best friend, were nothing compared to sapphires and rubies. Gold was nothing compared to the most polished of silvers.

Slipping into your apartment window, you were greeted by one of your strays. A white kitten darted across your bare hardwood floor to the kitchen, stopping in front of the fridge and rubbing against the appliance.

"Aww, pretty kitty," you swooned, scooping up the frail feline and throwing open the fridge door. "Milk is bad for us. But a little won't hurt, right?"

You scanned your barren fridge for the nighttime snack of choice; when you found it, you grabbed the glass bottle then shut the door with your hip.

You weren't expecting the imposing Spider hidden behind the door. His presence didn't even peak your senses, his scent almost undetectable.

Tilting your head at him, you furrowed your brows. Definitely not like the other Spideys you've interacted with before. His mask was laced in bright rubinous inlay, his suit emitting a dull glow like a screen.

Your stray reared in your hold at the stranger, hissing even as you turned them away from the person's stance. Ignoring them, you climbed onto the counter with your kitten and grabbed a bowl from the sink.

Eyes still on the person in the dark corner of your apartment, you poured a bowl of milk for your stray then pet down its back.

You hummed softly at it, scritching behind its ears while you worked up a purr. When you were satisfied with petting, you returned the bottle to the fridge and came face-to-face with the Spider again.

"You know, you Spideys usually start with a--" you were cut off by the Spider's large hand gripping your throat and slamming you into the fridge door.

You blinked pointedly, your eyesight going dizzy in the moment before narrowing your gaze at them. Your stray hissed again, hopping from the counter and scrambling under the bed.

"Straight to the point then," you said, tilting your chin up to lengthen your throat. "No spiel? No Spidey-backstory?"

"Do they do that often?" the Spider spoke, he spoke, monotonous and strong. "Give you a story?"

You rolled your eyes dramatically, taking the gentle ease of his hand to breathe. "Most of them do. Gives me enough time to get away."

The Spider tsked, his fingers flexing at your throat. "Weak."

You smiled deviantly. "My thoughts exactly."

You brought your knee up swiftly, attempting to bludgeon the Spider's crotch; he stepped back and avoided your blow, then pressed his body to yours as his hold on your neck tightened.

"Gatito malo," the Spider chastised against your nose. "Should've been caught a long time ago."

You melted an inch, your purr returning by the utterance. Your brow quirked, leaning in to try and examine the Spider's face from under his mask.

"If only they were efficient like you," you offered, gasping in a breath from his palm flattening your windpipe.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Spider-Man noted with a scoff.

Your hands now went for his at your throat, attempting to pry him off with your claw-adorned gloves.

"I thought Spiders had a code," you squeaked out with a wiggle, trying to gain leverage from this man.

Your knees suddenly braced his waist, feeling the heat rush over your body.

"I'm not like the others..." he began, before you felt a sharp pinch on the side of your throat.

A puncture through your skin made you wince, baring your kitten fangs in pain.

"I do whatever it takes," Spider-Man grit out, tightening his hold on your neck further.

You hardened under his hold, your knees now squeezing at his waist to gain more leverage from him.

"You're telling me," you feigned a swoon, shutting your eyes to meter your breathing through pursed lips.

"You don't mess with canon events, gatito." He flexed his hold. His other hand was gripped onto your fridge, his claws sinking into the sturdy appliance like an opening a can.

Surprising yourself, you reached out for the Spider's face, clawing at his mask and taking the moment to wriggle from his hold. You sank down to the floor, ducked between the hero's sturdy legs to crawl away.

The hero recovered from your fake-out and turned to reach after your ankle. He grabbed you, pulling you across the linoleum as your claws scratched the floor.

You turned onto your back and kicked in the direction of his face once, twice before the Spider grabbed at your extended thigh.

You straightened up, using your core to pull yourself up. Your knees rested at his shoulders, his claws tearing into your dark jeans attempting to pry you off of him.

You squeezed your thighs at the man's throat, making him tilt his chin up as the moonlight pooled through your kitchen window.

His hair caught onto the night light, his eyes dark and beaming in the shadows of your apartment. You reached your hands out to grab at his hair, but the Spider grabbed onto your hips and threw you off of him.

Catching yourself on your feet, you skidded over the kitchen island and knocked over your stray's milk bowl. Ducking behind the island, you scrambled to search your pockets for a gadget to use in the moment.

"Nice try, gatito," the Spider called out, cracking his neck as he walked over to the island. "But there's no weaseling out of this one."

You waited a moment, thought of moving away from him but couldn't find a reasonable option. Instead, you flinched when he slammed his hands down on the countertop.

Glancing up, you met his eyes glinting a blood crimson. He lurched at you, making you scurry away and kick your shoes off. You rushed back to your window, ready to jump out and make your escape.

The Spider caught your ankle again and dragged you across the floor, earning a few more kicks at his chest and stomach. You flinched when he closed his legs over yours, took your hands in his.

He stretched you out under him, listening to your heart threshing wildly in your chest. The Spider leaned in and sniffed tentatively at the back of your ear when you turned your head in disgust.

The fear that rushed through you in that instant made his cock swell. He grit his teeth at the feeling, pulling back in an instant. You waited for your punishment in the form of striking, batting away your face in hopes he wouldn't break your nose.

Instead, you felt the sudden levity of the Spider gone. You flashed your eyes open, realizing he'd disappeared. But not without the jewels.

"Motherfucker," you pursed out, folding yourself upright then over your knees.

You tried to catch your breath in the short moment, attempting to map everything that just happened in the span of seconds. The Spider was in, then out, of your life in the blink of an eye and all you had to show for it was the now bleeding puncture on your throat.

You sat your head up over your forearms, steadying your breaths from the fight. But even when you did, you couldn't deny the warmth that pooled to your stomach.

You'd felt him against you twice, a stiff upper body and sturdy frame. He could've killed you easily. But he played with you. Much like you did to his Spidey counterparts.

-

Stupid canon events.

They were nothing. And how the hell were you supposed to know which decision of yours would bring that mean, old Spider back to you?

The thought alone was daunting, staring over New York with a new task at hand: bring more chaos to bring your Spider back.

"Don't do whatever you're thinking," his voice cut in through your thoughts.

You turned around on the rooftop to see the Spider, without a mask on, leaning against the door to the complex stairway.

"I'm already exhausted," he huffed, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

You narrowed your eyes at him, leaning against the ledge of the rooftop. "You've just given me a reason to do it. Not like you'll stop me."

The Spider growled out in frustration, his chest flattening with the exhale. He flashed out his wrist twice, distracting you with his speed to web you to the brick ledge.

"Gatito," he stressed, pulling his hand from his face and stepping up to you. The man leaned down to meet your gaze, allowed you to stare deep into his dim eyes and the dark circles that accessorized them. "Don't."

You openly pouted at his warning; your eyes cut to the sky as you cocked a hip in defiance. "But..."

"Ah, ah, ah," The Spider began, clamping his large hand over your mouth. At the same time, he held his index finger up to chastise you. "No excuses."

You screwed your jaw sideways, allowing your defiance to bleed through your stare at this man.

"What?" he asked flatly, pulling his hands back.

You took in his entire stature, much taller than you remembered and more built than you gathered in the dark.

"Why didn't you deal with me last time?" you queried genuinely.

This man could've easily flattened you, you realized over and over again. He'd made a note of letting you know too. He'd been the object of your dreams that night, the reason you cuddled extra tight at your pillow.

Spider furrowed his brows in slight confusion at you, his thick brows pinching the skin between them with a wrinkle. He gave you a once-over, met your eyes instantly.

"I thought the warning sufficed."

You exhaled, offering a long blink to dot the silence. "Guess not."

The Spider leveled his brow, casting a shadow over his gaze. "We're not going at this again."

You reached out to brace his calf with your sneaker. "Come on. Admit it, it was fun."

"Never," he spat, adjusting his stance away from your reach.

You prodded your tongue between your lips as you tilted your head at him. "Do you get hard when you fight all your villains?"

His face flashed with quick embarrassment before he reeled himself back to frustration. "You are not a villain."

It felt like he'd baited you with something good. "So I'm special?" You asked with a grin.

The Spider scoffed at you, cutting his eyes away as his hands braced his waist. Now you were paying attention to how he was truly built. Your knees had braced that waist, your chest had pressed against his.

"I feel honored, seeing how intimate we got," you pushed.

"Shut," The Spider bit out, his teeth gritted as he leaned towards you. "Up. That's not what happened."

You raised a brow at his demeanor, hiding the devilish grin that tempted your lips.

"Are you sure? I feel like you're overreacting at a little criminal."

The Spider peeled his top lip back with a snarl, revealing a much longer fang than your own. His nose scrunched, almost disgusted.

"Your..." his hand reached out to grab you, his claws already extended. He acknowledged your slight flinch at him and drew back with a fist. "I can read your thoughts. They're...a lot."

An ice spilled through your system then, every thought you'd had about this Spider flooding to the forefront again. Every thought made you physically shake it away, wading through your fantastical imagination.

When you'd worked through yourself, you met the Spider's avoiding gaze wanting to see if you could make his thoughts.

"Anything...you like?" you teased.

The Spider scoffed, the noise sounding much like a furball ready to be hacked. He turned away from you, shaking his head at you.

"That's not what I'm here for." he offered.

It felt almost too easy. With a gentle tug, you felt the web at your wrists give way and you sat up on the ledge. "Are you sure? What was it you were saying about canon events?"

The Spider glanced over his large shoulder back at you. "What're you getting at, gatito?"

You shrugged, feigning dumb, bringing your claw-adorned glove up to examine them. They were sharp, much like the Spider's, but made from reformed silver. Purely for the show of it.

"Why is it that I trigger a canon event with everything I do? Your other Spideys can't seem to fix the situation, but you can."

Spider's brows were now melded together. "I'm still not following."

"I just might be your match, Spidey. I might be important to you."

The stranger grit, his jaw tightening as his hands gripped harder at his hips. "You speak nonsense."

"Maybe," you offered with another shrug, glancing in the Spider's direction. "But that made you hard, didn't it?"

He growled, snapping in your direction. "Stop that!"

"I haven't done anything," you said. "But you can't deny the attraction, Spidey."

"Miguel," he barked lowly at you. "My name is Miguel."

You nodded slowly, dropping your hand to hold the ledge you were balanced on. "Nice to put a name to a handsome face."

Miguel raised a finger to you, ready to scold you, but forfeited and returned his hand to waist. You lounged on the ledge, resting your chin in your hand.

Drumming your fingers to your cheek, you ogled the Spider, Miguel, as he paced the rooftop.

"So," you drew out, finally letting your smile curl on your lips. "You ready to confess, Miguel?"

He scoffed outwardly at you, turning his back to you until he turned his head up at the sky with a groan.

Sitting upright, you kicked off of the ledge and stood close behind him. You ran a finger down his back, tracing over the dip between his shoulders while admiring the husk of his build.

"I'll say it first since you're scared," you taunted, skirting a hand over his waist before stepping away from him.

You slipped under his arm as he turned, now facing him and leaning in to veer up at him. "I'd very much like to pick up where we left off."

Miguel glanced down at you then smacked his teeth in disbelief. "Ay, gatito, give it a rest."

You purred, reaching up to rest your hand on his shoulder. You ran your claws down the length of his arm before running your fingers between his and intertwining them.

"You felt it there, Miguel," you smiled, leaning in to whisper. "If you weren't on a mission, you wanted to fuck."

Miguel's hand clasped tightly over yours, holding back enough strength to not crush it. His claws caged over your small knuckles as he leaned into your face.

"You're no good, kitty cat," he seethed lowly, his eyes flicking over your body and back to you. "I have no reason to waste time on you."

You leaned in, skirting your nose against Miguel's to breathe against his lips. "You trying to convince me? Or yourself?"

Miguel's eyes flashed with anger, his brows furrowing as his nostrils flared. His mind was plagued with the images littering your thoughts in the exact moment, his throat dry as he attempted to tame his cock from reacting.

"Puta," he spat against your mouth, his hot breath punctuating against your lips.

You cocked your jaw slightly. "I like a challenge, don't you? Let's see who bites first."

Miguel smushed his lips to yours, just to get you to stop speaking. You were effectively working his last nerve, and the thought of having you writhing on his cock was beginning to suffice the stress.

His hand clenching yours relaxed, sliding up to your wrist and bringing your hand to his crotch so you could feel the absolute need of relief.

You hummed excitedly against his lips, feeling the heat from Miguel's cock cradled in your hand. Slowly, you traced your fingers up his sheathed length; the more you trekked, the more daunting the task of fitting him inside you was.

Still, you were unnerved. The lilac feeling trickling down your back as you tilted your head back and opened your mouth to receive Miguel's tongue.

He followed your lead at that point, edging his tongue into your mouth before delving and scouring like finding new flesh to rapture.

His other hand grabbed at your bicep, pulled you into his chest and tenderly squeezed at your muscle; his handling bordered on aggressive, withheld just enough under the surface to feel the tension.

Miguel gulped when he parted from you, not without a tender nip to your top lip. He bowed his forehead to yours, catching his breath while his mind now shared the same depth as yours.

"Take me to your apartment," he ordered, his hold squeezing on you to get his point across.

You nodded, eyelids fluttering as your chest rose with his.

-

Down the stairs from the rooftop, Miguel kept close behind you. His steps held the same cadence, not picking up speed or trudging; he kept a respectful distance behind you while you followed your hummingbird-racing heart.

At the front door of your apartment, you fumbled with finding your keys. Patting your pockets, you attempted to find them as Miguel sidled up behind you.

He pressed into you, his hands finding your hips, rutting his sheathed cock against the backside of your suit. You fumbled a moment, each rock of his hips stalling your efforts to think. Miguel let loose an errant groan, his fingers pressing tighter into you and backing you up on him.

You reached a hand out to the door for stability, folding your lips together to fight back the noises earned from his bulge tempting against your heat.

"I-I gotta," you stammered, wiggling out of his hold to bend down and look under your floor mat.

Retrieving the key, you studied putting it in the lock as Miguel grabbed the top of the doorframe and leaned into your back.

"Don't make me wait now, gatito. Apurarse." His mouth pressed up to the shell of your ear, his breath trickled down your neck.

You hid a shiver, pushing the door open fervently and letting the stranger inside. Miguel grabbed the key from your door and tossed it to the floor, then slammed the door behind him.

He kept up with your heels, his shoulders rolled forward while he studied you like prey. You felt his eyes bore into you as you crossed the studio apartment, walking by the kitchen until Miguel shoved you against the kitchen island.

Miguel grabbed your shoulder to spin you around, eyed you over before landing at the buckle of your pants. He rested his hands on the counter, his fingers curling over the lip to hold back his eagerness to undress you.

"Get naked," he smattered against your ear, a trickle of his spit dotting his syllables. Miguel bared his teeth for effect, inhaling your scent from the close proximity. "Now."

You wiggled in place, feeling the nervous tickle across your back as the heat rose between your thighs. Miguel was pressed between them, no longer evading his deep interest in you.

Your breath caught as his swollen cock rubbed over your clothed sex, making your eyes cross at the thought of relief. Miguel huffed against your ear, taking in your shaken demeanor and pulled back.

"Did you not hear me?" He bit, taking dominant grip of your jaw and giving you a light jerk. "Strip."

Your hands went for your zipper in obedience, suddenly tame as could be; Miguel's eyes dragged down the length of your body with your zipper, holding back the driven hunger in his eyes when you shrugged a shoulder of your bodysuit and revealed your bare chest.

A mirthless scoff escaped his lips, his free hand grabbing at piece of the fabric and aiding it off of you.

"Straight to the point, huh?" he taunted, his voice toneless of joviality.

You sighed, smiled, and continued to undress for Miguel's approval. He tilted his chin up, looked down his nose at you revealing your body to him.

"Mira," he breathed as you pushed your bodysuit down from your waist and shimmied it to your ankles. Miguel dipped his fingers between your hips, feeling at the immediate wet along your folds. "Mierda..."

You fumbled out of your shoes and free from your suit as Miguel touched you. Your hand reached for his bicep, unconsciously spreading your legs to allow him further.

"You are a brat, wet like a bitch in heat," Miguel snarled in your face, drawing two fingers back and forth between your lips. He teased around your entrance, making you acknowledge the thickness of his fingers.

You squirmed, your knees almost magnetic to one another but Miguel stood closer between them. He chastised you with a click of his tongue, edging the tips of his fingers into you then back out.

Miguel's cock twitched at the feeling of you around him, velvet wet at the tips of his fingers. He put his hand on your hip, edging you onto the counter.

He followed you, pressing his cock to the side of the counter as he shifted your hips to the edge. You reached to run your fingers through his hair, give him a lick of attention, but he shied away from your touch and knelt before you.

"Spread it for me," he ordered, licking at his teeth.

Another chill shocked through you, following his order and using your fingers to hold yourself open. He swallowed thickly, drawing his hand over his mouth before swiping it down his chest to disperse his suit.

You stared down at Miguel as his suit glitched away, his shoulders revealed to be larger and rounded than imagined. His hands gripped at your knees, draped them over his shoulders as he sank his mouth to your sex.

His tongue lashed out hungrily, not wasting a second to savor you. You fidgeted in his hold, felt his teeth edge in and out of control. His lips kissed, mawed while his tongue lapped, dragged between your folds.

"M-Miguel," you tried, feeling him acknowledge you with a squeeze at your knees.

He drew back a hand, fumbled from behind his closed eyes to take hold of his throbbing cock. He stroked feverishly, his eyes rolling at the slick taste of you melting on his tongue.

Miguel broke away from you to bite at your inside thigh, not holding back as his incisors pinched your skin. You yelped, edging your thigh open further to evade him.

Miguel snarled after you, raising to his feet again with his cock in hand. The thought of engulfing you made the untamed heat in Miguel grow. He wanted to tower over you, make you cower from him just to feed off of your fear.

You stared unwaveringly in his eyes, acknowledging the deep red laced through them. You were tempted to blink, balk at his aggression, but you tightened your jaw and tilted your chin up.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Suck my cock, gatito."

His order shot through your body, making you edge your hips on the counter. You moved carefully off of the counter, down to your knees before Miguel.

Your eyes gazed up the stranger's body, taking in every muscular divot and curve of him. His stature was domineering, the way he held his shoulders nothing short of menacing.

Miguel's hand reached for your cheek, caressed it softly before gripping your chin between his thumb and index finger. "Suck."

He pried your mouth open, guided your lips to the tip of his hard cock. Staring down the length of him, your hands went to his thighs to keep yourself steady.

Slowly, you pushed your lips down Miguel's cock; his tip pressurized your uvula, bringing tears to your eyes and spittle to pull in your mouth. You hallowed your cheeks, using your hands to slather his length with your saliva.

Miguel bowed his head back, holding in his groan as his hand rested at your nape. He seethed between his teeth, eyes rolling at the warmth you gave to his cock. His web pore under his free hand flexed in excitement, reminding him of the imminence.

He smacked his teeth, pulling his cock from your hold then tapping it at the front of your lips, over your cheeks before reaching to drag you up.

The look of your bed was calling your name, wanting nothing more than to share your intimate space with this man. Miguel thought nothing further than you, his gaze forced on you as he turned you around in his hold.

His hands gripped your biceps, weighed the thought of bruising you before folding you to the floor. Miguel followed you down, edging up on his knees to spread your legs.

He ran his hands down your sides, gripped your hips and ruthlessly tilted them in his favor. Without warning, Miguel guided his tip between your folds then in.

Your eyes fluttered hard, blinking and bracing your shoulder to the linoleum. Your arms bowed under your body, your stomach folded to your thighs tight.

Miguel was felt through every inch of your core, pushing more of himself inside until you were overstuffed with him. He stared down in disappoint, you speared on his cock but not taking him all the way in.

He growled, rocking your hips to meet his unmatchable thrusts. You yowled softly against the linoleum, your body burned with the ravishing heat.

Miguel's claws bit into your skin, holding you in place while he thrusted out of sync, no longer pacing himself.

A purr tore through your chest, rumbling the part of the floor and rattling back against your nipples. Miguel growled in response, his finger pads squeezing hungrily at your flesh.

He paused, allowing your throbbing sex to hug his cock. Miguel returned his thrusts, then paused in spurts to savor the bits of you.

You writhed under him, no longer feeling human but a vessel of pleasure. Your walls begged for release, your body shuddering with every edge.

"Please," you pleaded minutely.

Miguel inhaled deeply, then out as he thrusted his cock as far into you as he could; the jolting feeling brought you to your climax, eyes rolling as you released Miguel's name from your lips.

He clawed over your skin, bringing deep red welps and punctures to your skin. His web pores twitched to life, spurting short lengths of web at the same time he emptied his balls into you.

Miguel folded a hand at the small of your back, bowing you further onto his cock to keep his cum inside of you. Your body reacted with small twinges at the flex of his cock within you.

-

You woke up at sunset, in your bed. Looking around your apartment, you searched for your Spider. Miguel. But he was nowhere to be found.

Dropping your head back in defeat, you scoffed at the ceiling. The one time with him now felt like it wouldn't be enough. He was now itching under your skin, you felt his claws had left marks all over you.

Rolling over, you went to grab your pillow and hold it close only to see a note made from spider web. You quirked a brow, leaning towards the silveresque threads twinkling on the edge of the sunset.

'Get in trouble again, gatito. Don't make me wait.'

[beenbaanbuun]

Hi hi! I hope life is treating you well and you’re drinking lots of water and resting well!

I would love to hear your thoughts on dragon!San the brainrot for him has been real lately 😭💖

so this actually changed the chemical infrastructure of my brain and i couldn’t decide how to write it so i hope this is okay 😭😭

——————————————————————————

so ask anyone who i speak to on a regular basis and this is all i’ve been able to talk about for days because i have so many ideas for it

arguably too many for me to even begin to think about structuring them in a way that makes sense…

but hey, we can try right?

so initially my first thought was ‘omg, i’m going to make this little guy so sad…’ and i will! but i promise it will make sense

so san is a people person—or dragon, i guess—right? sure, he’s a little shy but at the end of the day, you can tell he loves being around people

all throughout his childhood he wanted nothing more than to work with kids, maybe be a teacher or something! he’s good at helping people, right?

it just sucks for the poor guy that as he got older, he started to get bigger, his nails started to grow into something akin to talons, and his canine teeth became sharp and menacing

there’s a reason you never really see any dragon-hybrid teachers…

the day san got kicked off of his teacher-training course was probably the saddest day of his life, but at least he had you at home! the most precious jewel in all of his hoard…

honestly, san would love nothing more than to keep you bundled up in his den, wrapped in all six of his limbs—are wings limbs?—to keep you protected from the outside world

realistically, though, he’s all too aware of a humans needs to keep you indoors

you’re like a houseplant with the way you need sun to survive

he also knows that you need to work, since it’s borderline impossible for him to get a job

he’s too scary to work with people, too drawn to shiny things to work with money and too underqualified to work a 9-5

he always feels guilty that you’re the main breadwinner for the household, but he doesn’t mind being a house-husband all that much

he’s more than content taking care of his hoard, after all, and since you are his most prized possession…

speaking of his hoard, it’s kind of littered about the apartment, although most of it is in your bedroom

necklaces and jewels hang from the living room’s light, making it look closer to a chandelier than a regular lampshade

gold and silver appliances are his favourite making the kitchen look somewhat gaudy in comparison to what it originally looked like

as for your bedroom, it looks rather similar to howl’s…

in fact san was almost giddy when you first showed him howl’s moving castle, pointing at the screen with a wicked grin on his face

“see! its not just me who likes to decorate like this!”

you don’t have the heart to tell him that howls moving castle is just make believe and no one decorates like him…

but you suppose it’s not so bad; san dusts it from time to time and the things that dangle from the ceiling are perfect for you to zone out and stare at whenever san is rushing around looking for something to clean you up with after fucking you dumb :)

because let’s be real, dragon!san definitely has a huge cock to match the rest of his body

and despite his sweet demeanour outside of the bedroom, he’s an absolute demon inside of it

he’s possessive, more than anything, so if you ever come home smelling of anything other than him, then you best believe you’re being whisked away to the bedroom the second you step food through the front door

hands will be on you before you even know it, talons tearing at clothes and stripping you naked before you even get chance to tell him that this shirt is far too expensive to tear

you don’t even get much chance to protest after he’s torn it from you either because his lips will be on yours and his forked tongue will already be lapping at the inside of your mouth like his life depends on it

everything happens so quick because he’s just so desperate to make sure you know that you’re his again

he needs each one of your senses to be filled by him, he needs your mind to only think of him, he needs your pussy to be dripping with him

he knows he doesn’t own you but he needs to feel like he does

when he’s like this, it’s always quick. he needs to fuck you hard and fast before that strange smell that doesn’t belong to him sinks into your skin and stays there forever!

it’s purely instinct driven, really…

and maybe later he’ll take you for round two, only this time he wants to actually savour you

now you smell like him again, he can relax as he forces his cock inside of you

he can take his time kissing you and making you feel like the most beautiful person alive

he can let his hands trace every inch of your body, appreciating every dip and curve you have

and once it’s over, he can sit there with his cock still plugging you up and appreciate your blissed out face as you recover from what can only be described as a heavenly experience

[midnigtartist]

What item do you hope will be obsolete in 20 years?

Kitchen appliances with touch screens. Why the fuck does my TOASTER have a touch screen. Blow yourself up