#she would fall SO MUCH HARDER
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
twin-tailss · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Girliepop you could do so much better (don’t do better please)
Based on the song Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage
1 note · View note
urbeastprime · 2 months ago
Text
Idk how complicated it would be to program, but I'd either absolutely loathe or ADORE a video game with like. Mistborn-style emotion manipulation as a core mechanic, where you can read and alter the emotional states of other characters to drive them towards the responses you want from them. Like, you could flare their sense of fear, surprise, and anxiety, and then when you drop out of stealth at them they panic and flee. Or you could decrease their interest, calmness, and determination to make them less focused as guards, so you can slip by them easier. Or in a social scenario, you can make them more proud, joyful, and courageous to the point of foolishness so they reveal their plans in the belief you can't do anything about it. Interplaying other characters' emotions, twisting their mental states around until they're putty in your hand, stuff like that.
Like I said, it'd probably be a bit of a nightmare to program, but it'd be interesting for a video game. You'd probably need some kind of in-game guiding system to let you know what will happen if you do one thing versus another, though, just so it's not utterly impossible to work with.
2 notes · View notes
liquidstar · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
i finally finished alternate outfit designs for my ocs :) well these five at least lol
ill put the individual frames under the cut!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
#finn's ocs#i think tumblr sort of made the drawings a bit blurrier so its harder to see some details like saiphs scars or miras stretch marks... sad!#hopefully clicking on it solves that?#anyway i ended up doing the pjs after all bc i figured messy hair would be fun to do#and if i was going to put saiph in underpants anyway it would be funny to do like. the cartoon heart boxers but w fire lol#the formal looks were fun to do though. you can tell al's is like totally inspired by utena's look in aou#there are for sure through lines i wanted to keep w all their outfits like in general#aside from just keeping the same colors and general style#like mira always has like a cold shoulder look and tends to have somekind of asymmetry towards the bottom#except for her formal look for the latter#saiph always wears those wrist things no mater what. also he always has somekinda flame pattern#polaris either has snowflakes stars or compasses ofc. and if she has somekinda skirt the red will be Under it#bella has the same skull design on her bows. except for the pj look where now the skull itself is wearing a bow#and al has the stars on the strings and mismatched shoes#the most similar outfits are the summer/spring and winter/fall ones#those are pretty much default outfits so thats why#and their hairstyles in the winter/fall looks are like just slightly longer versions of their summer/spring styles#they dont really change hairstyles for the beach and pjs aside from the long haired characters pulling them up different#or putting them down for the pjs look. in bellas case#their formal look probably has the most difference in hairstyle. like theyre not just grown out or pulled back#theyre like actually styled different#these arent their final looks btw there are like completely different timeskip designs too but like#id have to use different bases for those probably. there would be changes LOL#but yeah :)#finn's art#forgor that one
31 notes · View notes
ratcandy · 1 year ago
Text
man. I knew jumping spiders didn't have a long life but seeing mine slowing down and reaching the end of hers hurts way more than I expected it too
4 notes · View notes
kartsstuffig · 1 year ago
Text
i am guilty of this
*makes character* hehe. haha *fucks them up so bad* Oh no. who could have done such a thing
#i was literally thinking about how like#holy shit kat (my oc) 's life fucking sucks even before shit got real#like she was maybe 8 or 9 and had to do the following#a: maintain the form of something almost entirely different from her (it takes active energy to do so)#and also have to maintain that in front of ANYONE regardless of the situation#and ALSO had to act like a whole ass decade or two older than she was#AND had to deal with a slight but itching fear of knowing that if this facade were to break she would lose everyone she knew#or at least her closest friend#AND had to fucking fight AND had her first death among this period with many more to come#and then she had to leave among some point because it was getting a lot harder to not be a nervous wreck anytime someone walked by their sho#p#so she counteractively realizes she has to take a HUMAN form now so she doesn't get fucking shot and killed or something#which doesn't take as much energy given she doesn't have to act like 20 anymore#so there's less mental strain#but then she has some issues with other fucking people#and she watched someone get torn apart in front of her like 11 year old eyes#and was subsequentially!! traumatized#for obvious reasons#and so she practically exists in a loop of going against these same people over and over#eventually things calm but she falls into a rut#but at least she's safe to take her own form again#right guys#right#(there is more i will add gradually)#kat lore#bottom text#there's that.
9K notes · View notes
nezuscribe · 1 month ago
Text
gojo never imagined an arrange marriage with you, but now you’re all he can think about.
he thinks about you when he’s training, when he’s seated at his round table, when he’s in his bed, everywhere, every time, you’re all he can think about.
and you’re oblivious to it.
you heard the gossip everywhere you walked, about the girl gojo was pleading with his family to marry. how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much more elegant she was compared to you. you knew you were never his first choice, not even his fifth, but it hurt even more when everybody acknowledged it.
you stopped wearing your wedding ring, started acting like you were just another person there. luckily gojo didn’t seem to be in any hurry about making heirs, so pretending like you two were working things out didn’t even matter anymore.
you find yourself alone most of the time. your maids were kind and patient, but they had so many things to do throughout the day that you felt awful pestering them to walk around the estate with you.
eating dinners with gojo became normal, but most of your other meals were in silence, always feeling like a speck of dust in the large dining hall.
one day when you’re walking around aimlessly you stumble across the training grounds, the open space below you filled with men swinging wooden swords back and forth at each other.
it wasn’t difficult to find your husband, his white hair hard to miss in a crowd of others. he didn’t notice you watching from above, and so you stayed hidden, not knowing if the men were picky with who watched them.
he was swift and agile. everything he did was precise and with meaning. no wonder he was named the best warrior of the north.
you found this to be more entertaining than walking around the gardens for the tenth time or watching the cooks assemble the next meal, so you didn’t even notice how gojo looked up to see you, somehow slipping away without you knowing.
you were in a state of watching but not really thinking, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard his voice behind you.
“didn’t know i had an audience,”
you yelp, flinching as you look behind you to see your husband all sweaty, panting slightly as he moves his hair away from his face. you eye the stairs that led him up here, wondering how you could’ve missed that.
you laugh sheepishly, giving him an apologetic smile as you pick are your nails.
“i’m sorry,” you scratch behind your ears, feeling heat rise to your cheeks under his intense gaze. it’s unfair how pretty somebody can look, especially after training for an hour straight, “i was just walking around and i saw this.”
he waved it off, shaking his head as he leaned his sword on the wall.
“not a problem,” his eyes shine, “i just would’ve tried harder if i knew my wife was watching.”
my wife.
the words fall so smoothly from his lips you wonder how many times he’s said it before. with malice, hatred, necessity?
you smile a little bit, eyes crinkling around the edges as you look away briefly, not noticing the way gojo chased after your cheerful face.
“how’d you get up here? where are your ladies?” he asks suddenly, looking around at the fact that it was just you up here.
“my what?” you say, looking up at him through furrowed brows.
“you know,” he waves his arm around as if that would help, “you’re ladies in waiting,”
you scrunch up your nose a little bit, something he noticed you did when you were confused.
“oh, well, my maids are working right now,” you tell him, noting that he still didn’t look any less confused.
“no, not your maids, your ladies,” he tilts his head to the side, “the girls your family sent them up to help you around.”
you stare at him, unblinking.
“the girls that are your friends, the ones that help accustom you…” gojo trials off when he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with you.
you feel even more embarrassed than when he caught you watching him, hating the way you were clueless at yet another thing in this life that no one explained to you.
“the girls you hang around with?” he finally lands on, hoping this jogs your memory.
you shake your head, eyes wide as you fidget with the fabric of your dress. his eyes fall onto your finger, lingering on the fact that you’re not wearing your ring.
“who do you spend your time with throughout the day?” gojo seems even more lost than you. he’s seen you with…? well surely that one time…?
“by,” you swallow, embarrassed, “by myself. i walk around a lot.” you admit sheepishly.
“your family didn’t send…?” he answers his own question with his silence.
this entire time you’ve been alone?
he opens his mouth to speak but somebody beats him to it.
“satoru! get down here! we’re still not done!” his friends shouts from below, and you look over your shoulder to see all the men staring at the two of you.
gojo stares at you, unblinking.
“i,” he swallows but can’t find any words.
you can’t either.
he leaves you there, running down those stairs as he shouts at the other guys to resume what they were doing. that entire day he was off his balance because he kept looking up to see you there, but you weren’t.
maybe you were just walking around, like you said.
10K notes · View notes
nanaslutt · 9 days ago
Text
roommates!gojo & geto jerking each other off while thinking abt their cute neighbor they both want soooo bad
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔
“do it harder.” geto groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he laid back against satoru’s pillows. said man currently had his hand wrapped around his cock, albeit poorly. his hand was soft as fuck, but he was touching him like he had never touched a dick before. “jerk me off how you jerk yourself off.”
gojo snorted, his words breathy as he spoke, “what if i like it soft?” geto shook his head and curled his toes when gojo wrapped his hand around him tighter. “these walls are thin, i’ve heard you having sex and i know you don’t like it soft. those poor girls.”
gojo laughed, “they love it, i think she would love it too.” he said. geto licked his lips, starting to paint an image in his head. “what would you do to her?” he asked tentatively, his eyebrows furrowing together when gojo focused on his cock head like the bastard he was.
“mmm i think id start with fingering her.” gojo said. “i’ve seen her a couple times in the laundry room bend over in those tiny shorts—you know the ones. and her-“ he stopped talking to groan when geto stroked over a particularly sensitive vein. “they don’t cover much.”
geto nodded, seeing you bent over in his head. “you think she’s sensitive?” geto asked, cracking his eyes open to peek at gojo. his eyes were lidded and focused on the hand around his cock. geto tried not to shy away when he felt his pre cum drip into his hand. he’d never jerked anyone off before—besides himself.
“oh yeah,” gojo responded, biting his plush lip. for some reason it made geto’s mouth water. “i think… fuck, i think i could make her squirt with just my fingers.” gojo’s face was getting flushed now. it made geto want to tease him. “yeah?” he asked, squeezing his hand tighter around his shaft and relishing in his reaction when he sucked in a breath through his teeth and arched his back. “would you make her squirt all over our couch?”
gojo moaned at his filthy words and nodded, his head tipping back against the headboard. “yeah.” geto nodded, looking at his roommate even though his eyes were closed. “what would you do if i walked in when you were making her cum?” he asked, paying attention to the head of his cock.
“i-id let you suck my fingers clean.” he groaned, making geto’s balls throb at the visual. “god, she’d probably get so hot… trying to press her thighs together watching me suck your fingers.” gojo nodded, his mouth falling open in a small O.
“would you want her pussy or her ass?” geto asked, his breath coming more quickly. “ass, i know it’s so tight and warm. god. would you want her at the same time?” geto nodded despite him being unable to see. “yeah, just think about how good she would look with tears down her face trying to take us both.”
suddenly, a hand way being wrapped around his wrist. geto opened his eyes fully and watched with rapt attention as gojo cursed before his back arched. he continued stroking him, despite knowing what was gonna happen. he cringed when hot ropes of cum spilled from his dick, coating his hand and his cock and making a lewd sound from the stroking.
gojo gripped geto’s wrist to stop him, and geto pulled it away and made a face at the mess on his hand. gojo also had stopped jerking him off, just weakly holding his throbbing cock. “that did it for you huh?” he teased. gojo laughed before removing his hand from geto’s cock.
gojo crawled off the edge of the bed and bent down to grab a towel to wipe his cock clean with. geto gripped his cock and languidly started stroking, waiting for gojo to help him get off. “your turn, one minute man. come keep this fantasy going so i can blow all over your hand and pretend it’s hers.”
a cruel smile twisted on gojo’s face before he dropped the towel and zipped his pants back up. “i’m sure you can finish yourself off.” getos mouth opened in disbelief. “if you need some help, i have porn from last night still up on my laptop, feel free to check it out. it’s really good stuff.” with a wink, he left geto gaping and alone in HIS room with his stiff cock in his hand.
fucking biiiitch.
5K notes · View notes
rafey-baby · 2 months ago
Text
cw: bf!rafe being obsessed with reader’s tits while she’s riding him, use of daddy, Topper texts in the middle of it, fluffy undertones
wc: 740
inspired by this ask
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Just like that, Baby. There you go,” Rafe pants while he’s pawing at her waist as she stretches around him tucked deep inside her; hitting the spongy spot inside her with every roll of her hips on top of him on their couch. 
Their moans and grunts echo around the living room and a brief thought about him having to be somewhere else crosses his mind when he blinks. However, it’s quickly forgotten when his eyes flicker over to her tits bouncing up and down right in front of his face; enticing him, tempting him like cocaine. 
Therefore, he has no choice but to let his fingers greedily pluck at the straps of her tank top; letting them fall down her shoulders and exposing her tits for his hungry mouth. He gropes the left one with his big hand and sloppily mouths at the other; pressing open-mouthed kisses on the plump flesh, soft lips brushing against her sensitive skin.
“Shit, they’re fucking perfect, huh?” His words are slurred, eyes half-lidded and he thinks he could stay like this forever. 
She lets out a loud noise when he sucks her nipple between his lips; tongue playing with the puffy bud and rolling his thumb over the other one. 
“Yeah? That feel nice? Needed Daddy to pay some attention to his girls?” He croons against her tits; breath tickling her tender skin.
She whimpers in response, fluttering around his cock that presses harder into her tight hole when he lifts his own hips upwards; helping her out when he notices her thighs beginning to grow sore. 
He nuzzles his face against her breasts; groaning out against her skin when she squeezes around him, hands grabbling at his biceps in their pursuit of some form of solidity. 
“Taking me so well, huh?” He laves his tongue over a nipple before he’s grazing his teeth against it; playfully biting down and eliciting an overwhelmed shriek from her. 
“Ray…” she whines, feeling her orgasm approaching with each thrust of his hips meeting her own. 
“Hm?” He hums around the button but before she can open her mouth, his phone buzzes on the couch cushion next to them. 
He doesn’t even hear it; far too bewitched by her body for anything else to drift to the forefront of his mind. It vibrates with another message soon after and that’s when she turns to look at the screen that lights up with four new notifications. 
“It’s Topper,” she mumbles, halting her movements momentarily. 
“Huh?” His question is muffled against her flesh. 
“He’s texting you,” she picks up the phone and hands it to him. 
“Don’t really give a shit,” he tries to dismiss her, hands grabbing at her hips and trying to get her to continue moving but she stays rooted in her spot. 
“You should answer, maybe it’s important,” she insists, tone unwavering. 
“Top has never texted me about anything important,” he argues, pulling away from her with a crease between his brows; tentatively taking the device and flitting his eyes over the words.  
Top
Yo Rafe
Where are u? 
Me and Kelce are waiting for u at the island club 
U coming or? 
“You’re such a little devil, yeah? Made me forget about my fucking plans,” he murmurs teasingly; squeezing her thigh as he types out a response.
Shit, my bad
Kinda busy playing w my girls atm
Topper’s answer is immediate. 
Top
What girls?
Oh..
She looks down at the messages when a chuckle rumbles from his chest. 
“Rafe, why would you say that?” She complains with a pout molding her mouth. However, he merely offers her an infuriating grin as he locks the device, about to throw it on the coffee table before her fingers wrap around his wrist. 
“Wait, you’re not gonna say anything else?” She sounds almost worried, never the one to enjoy being rude to others. 
He thinks she’s too much of a polite sweetheart sometimes as he playfully rolls his eyes; fingers reluctantly gliding over the keyboard once again.
Maybe next time? 
Top
Yeah, whatever. Have fun
“Happy now?” He scrunches his nose at her, turning the do not disturb mode on before finally setting the phone down and gracing her with his undivided attention once more. 
“Very happy,” her smile is contagious when she takes ahold of his jaw; leaning down to press a honeyed kiss on his lips and swallowing his grunt when she shifts against him in a thank you.
4K notes · View notes
sunarc · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
Dilf Toji fucks you nice and slow when you’re done putting Megumi down for bed. He wants to thank you for being so good to him and his son. As a single dad it gets hard so when you came into the picture offering your services it was hard to deny such a genuine offer. You’re so good to Megumi, gentle, kind and patient. Toji can’t help the growing bulge in his pants when he sees you being such a strong mother figure. He has to show you his gratitude. The best way he can do that is by having you in a mating press so he can fuck you nice and deep. 
“You like that?” his voice is a soft hum. 
You feel dizzy. His cock feels so deep. He’s stretching you out more than ever before. You call out his name in a soft whimper.
“Yeah? I’m right here doll don't worry I’m not going anywhere” he groans.
Toji’s obsessed with the way you look taking his cock. Your hole looks so perfect clenching, barely able to fit all of him. You look so full, Toji can’t help but imagine how full you would look with his cum drooling out of you. He has to see it. He’s determined to fuck you full of his cum. His cock plunges in and out of you creating a pattern. Your moans fall past your lips making a tune Toji never wants to forget. 
“That’s it, good girl, say my name” you sound so pretty to him. “Tell me who fucks you this good, say it , tell me no one can make you shake like this, no one can fill this pussy up the way i can”
He’s never felt himself lose control like this before. There’s something about you, something that leaves him desperate for more. He craves you, desires you every waking second. The way your lips part letting pleads and moans drip off your tongue has him losing his mind. He can’t get enough of you. He knows he should be quiet but the way your cunt feels squeezing him so tight he thinks he just might lose his mind. “That feel good baby? Yeah I know” he coos “I’m gonna fuck you so full” his pace is picking up speed. 
His mind is practically blank thinking of how he wants to fill you to the brim with his cum. No that’s not enough he needs to give you every last drop he has. 
“You need my cum don’t you” he’s desperate to hear you say it. He’s practically begging to hear you asking for his cum. Tell him how much you want his babies. He can make you a mommy. Don’t you want him to make you a mommy?
“Our baby is gonna be so beautiful” he whispers. He isn’t sure if you can hear him but he doesn’t mind as long as you’re still losing your mind calling out his name. 
“That’s right” he growls “Say my name while I fuck a baby into you”
His hand push your thighs further down so he can reach deeper. The way he drags his cock past you slick walls has you shaking. Your words come out slurred. 
“It’s too big” you whine as he goes deeper
“No no you can take it.” he bites he lips continuing his long deep strokes. He knows you can take it. Your eyes roll back when he begins grinding his hips into you. He knows he’s hit the spot he’s been searching for. 
“There she is” he chuckles. 
You can barely contain the moans now. Your body is shaking uncontrollably. 
“Please” you gasp “S-slow down, I’m gonna make a mess” you cry.
Toji loves the sound of that. He thrust pick up speed, fucking into you even harder. 
“That’s it, just like that, make a mess on my cock.”
He’s desperately chasing after his own orgasm. He wants to cum with you. His thrust are sloppy. He’s moaning your name pleading for you to cum for him. 
“Cum-fuck Now” he demands. 
You can’t help the juices the splatter against his abs as he fucks his load into you. The two of you are a moaning mess. You ramble incoherent words paired with his name. His eyes are glued on the sticky mess between the two of you. The squelching sounds of his cock fucking his cum back in fill the room. 
“What a pretty sight this is. I hope it’s a girl” he moans “She’ll have your eyes” 
You can barely give him a reply to focused on the way his cock is still plunging in and out. 
“It’s too much” you slur.
“No baby it’s not enough” he groans “I gotta make sure this tummy is full of my cum. One more just one more okay”
Toji has plans on fucking way more than just one more load into you. He has to fuck you full until he’s sure of it you’ll be the one carrying Megumi’s little sister.
12K notes · View notes
ladysharmaa · 9 months ago
Text
My miracle
Anthony Bridgerton x reader
summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good
warnings: mentions of death
Tumblr media
“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”
“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”
Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.
His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 
“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”
“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”
“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”
“Like you are giving birth?”
“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 
“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.
She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”
“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”
"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.
It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."
But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.
"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"
"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.
"I'm not going anywhere!"
"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.
"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.
"Anthony..."
"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 
The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.
With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.
"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."
"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."
"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.
On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.
Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.
And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.
It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.
Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.
"You have a daughter, Anthony."
He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."
"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."
Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.
"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.
The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.
"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."
"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.
"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.
Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.
Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."
"She is beautiful."
"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 
He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.
6K notes · View notes
ceilidho · 1 day ago
Text
Buttermilk
It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au
Part 3 | masterlist
-
It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.
How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 
It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.
You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.
“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.
“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.
“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”
You swallow. Nod again.
The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”
“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”
“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”
She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 
It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 
Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 
“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 
Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.
It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 
The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 
In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 
In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 
It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 
A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 
“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 
You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 
“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”
John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”
The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 
When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 
“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 
Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 
“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”
He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 
Late night rain.
It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 
You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 
Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.
“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 
You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 
“It’s not…that bad…”
“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.
The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 
“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 
“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.
“What?” you ask, confused.
“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”
There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 
John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 
You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 
He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 
“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 
You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 
“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”
“Like where?” you ask dubiously.
“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”
His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 
You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 
You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.
“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 
“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”
“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”
John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 
“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”
After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 
The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.
The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 
He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 
Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 
Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 
You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 
Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 
“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 
“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”
“You hot?” he asks.
The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 
“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 
Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 
It must be the heat making you act this way. 
“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”
He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 
A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 
“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 
You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 
The heat is just—
Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 
Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 
It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 
His palms are slick on your skin. 
Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 
When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 
“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 
As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 
Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 
“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 
“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”
Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 
His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 
Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 
The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  
When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 
“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”
“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 
“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”
You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 
“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 
It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 
That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 
“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”
“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”
His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 
A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 
The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 
When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 
“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”
“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 
Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 
“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 
His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 
“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 
You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.
2K notes · View notes
rafesangelita · 2 months ago
Note
omg loveeee sheep!reader <3333
love how you said Rafe gets annoyed with all the stuffies on her bed, I can just imagine he's lying back on her bed and she's on top, kissing him and trying to grind on his thigh, but even though he thinks he threw all the stuffies on the floor he keeps finding more like digging into his back and getting in his way and he gets frustrated and makes her grind on one of her big teddy bears until she cums in her panties omggggg
Tumblr media
warnings: mean!rafe, kissing, heavy petting, dry humping, thigh riding, rafe curses at reader in frustration, riding a stuffed animal lol, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, male masturbation
a/n: first fic with sheep!reader, i’m so happy that so many of you loved her <3 leave me some req’s!
“fuck— hold on,” you shyly pulled away from your boyfriend’s lips, watching as he threw yet another stuffed animal onto the floor, “this is ridiculous, you know that?” he pulled you back down, his large hands palming and groping the globes of your ass from underneath your skirt. “but you got all of those for me..” you whimpered, dragging your hips against his toned thigh. rafe kissed you deeply, the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth making a surprised ‘oh!’ fall from your lips. you were so innocent in his eyes, he loved to do things that would make your cheeks heat in embarrassment.
“yeah, but do you have to have them all on your bed? i could build you a shelf or ‘somethin—” just then, he adjusted himself with you still pathetically trying to hump his thigh when another stuffie digged into his ribs. “goddammit, y/n!” your eybrows knitted together in worry, his tone making you jump. he cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat up, taking you with him. “m’sorry, i didn’t mean to yell at you.” he stroked the side of your face, eyes falling onto the huge teddy bear that sat at the corner of your bed. “matter of fact, why don’t you grab that one there at the end?”
you looked back at the teddy bear rafe won you from the fair before you two had officially started dating. “aw, i love this one.” you got up, carrying it over as rafe patted the empty spot next to him. “yeah, i know. you love all of them right?” you nodded, a little confused as to where he was taking this. “well since you love them so much, and they keep appearing out of nowhere, you could hump that instead.” you blinked at his words, your underwear damp with your need for release. “you’re telling me you’ve never done that before?” rafe whispered.
you’d be lying if you said you didn’t. you remembered grinding on the same teddy bear the night rafe got it for you. he had kissed before letting you go inside, the kiss being so dreamy, your mind couldn’t help but wander at what else he was really good at. you had took the bear to your room that night and pretended it was rafe instead. “look at your face.. you have done it before,” a wicked smile adorned his mouth. “show me how you did it.” rafe was palming himself through his shorts when you straddled the damned thing.
you started moving, a whine emitting from your pretty little mouth as you finally got the friction you were looking for. he continued to rub himself over his cargos, a sigh leaving his lips as he grew harder by the minute. rafe loved hearing those moans and whimpers of yours, the sound making his eyebrows knit together. soon, he had taken himself out of his underwear, shamelessly stroking his cock as tears rolled down your cheeks in frustration. even though you were still making yourself feel good, you just felt so empty. “rafe..” you cried, “please, i need you inside..” hearing you beg was his favorite.
“me too, baby, i’m fuckin’ aching,” he groaned, you looked down at his mean, throbbing cock, “make yourself cum in those panties and maybe i’ll give it to ‘ya.” determined, you moved your hips faster, your glossy lips swollen from biting on them so hard. your nails dug into the soft material of your teddy bear, your peak starting to form in your tummy. your thighs ached for a break, but the need to have rafe’s cock fucking you stupid was surpassing any kind of discomfort you felt. “ah, fuck!” rafe had to stop touching himself, the only place he wanted his cum to be was inside of those soft, slick walls of your cunt.
not being able to resist himself any longer, rafe leaned forward, taking one of your tits in his mouth as he lapped at the sensitive bud. you nearly screamed at the added stimulation, cradling his head to keep him close while your high washed over you in pure ecstasy. rafe watched you tremble and shake, his hands coming up to still drag your cunt across the teddy bear despite your pleas for him to stop. he loved to see you overstimulated. “n-no more!” you gasped. rafe ignored you, not stopping until you came again, a mess gushing from between your thighs.
you couldn’t help but double over, falling into your boyfriend’s chest as he shushed your cries. “fuck, you always do so good for me.” he praised, leaving open mouth kisses up your shoulder. you fell limp in his arms, small pants leaving your lips as he stood up, throwing you back down on your bed. you hissed, your hand coming up to hold your back. “shit! did i hurt you, baby?” rafe turned you over, his eyes falling on a stuffed animal with hard plastic eyes. “that’s it— i’m making you that shelf!” he scolded.
2K notes · View notes
hannieehaee · 7 months ago
Text
18+ / mdi
Tumblr media Tumblr media
content: newbf!vernon, based off this quote, appearance from some svt members, afab reader, smut(?), suggestive, etc.
wc: 1848
a/n: this is such an odd premise but it caught my attention so yeah<3
masterlist
"i dont get the joke," seungkwan cocked his head to the side in a questioning manner.
"yeah, april fool's was last month?," added joshua.
"there's no joke. we're dating."
even as you and vernon found yourselves cuddled up on the couch, – in a manner only a couple would intertwine with each other – your friends seemed unimpressed by the mere suggestion of the two of you dating.
"so you've been besties for twelve years and suddenly you're dating? no warning, no nothing? not very believable", answered mingyu, staring at you in nothing short of annoyance.
"why is this so surprising? you guys knew that i had a crush on her," argued vernon, feeling a bit annoyed at the way all his friends were currently staring him down. meanwhile, you appeared to be completely chill as you nuzzled into his side, watching videos on his phone and ignoring the conversation altogether.
"i just don't buy it."
"yeah, i don't get the joke, but i'm not falling for it."
"she's out of your league anyway."
seungkwan, seungcheol and jeonghan all expressed their sentiments to vernon as he groaned in frustration, unable to understand why it was so difficult to accept that he had finally grown the balls to ask you out. alas, he gave up as his friends grew distracted by something else, opting to go back to watching cat videos with you on his phone.
this was a brand new change in your dynamic, so maybe it'd be hard to grasp at first. but it was fine. vernon didn't need his friends to acknowledge his relationship in order to make it real. he'd simply continue to love on you like he'd been doing since you accepted to be his girlfriend, damning any denials from his friends.
~
acting unaffected by his friends' constant refutals of his new relationship proved to be harder than vernon had first anticipated. they'd gone above and beyond to attempt and disprove your relationship, claiming that it simply didn't make any sense.
any time you posted a picture with vernon it'd get spammed with comments from all twelve boys declaring the falsehood of your relationship.
jeonghanieyoon: booo 🍅
joshuacoustic: drop the fake bf and date me instead 😘
dk_is_dokyeom: ok u guys are starting to look believable 🧐
sometimes they'd even respond to vernon's stories about you and slide in his dms just to call him a dumbass for attempting to make this 'a thing' when it was clear you two were lying.
from: pledisboos - stop being a coward and ask her out for real
from: feat.dino - clearly fake. try harder next time!
in retrospect, maybe vernon only had himself to blame for this. after years of liking you, he never once gave any indication of attempting to leave the friendzone. his friends had all given up on hyping him up to confess to you years ago, leaving his crush as a dormant subject of conversation. it was quite sudden how you and vernon ended up together, and your dynamic hadnt changed too much, so your upgrade from friends to lovers was likely not noticeable to the naked eye.
however, this did not excuse the damned booing vernon had to endure any time the two of you walked into a room hand-in-hand. it also did not excuse jeonghan and mingyu's continuous flirting with you – they were doing it to prove a point, they said. and the most frustrating aspect of it all was how nonchalant you were about it all, always giggling along with his friends and never backing vernon up when he'd try and argue with them.
this was quite out of character for vernon. his demeanor had always been extremely chill and laid back, never one to be bothered by any outside forces (much less his dumb friends). you, however, were not helping manners in any way. you found the whole situation funny, telling vernon not to stress over it as you giggled over how passionate both vernon and his friends were about such a benign subject.
so, vernon gave up. he guessed that since you found the running gag about your 'fake' relationship amusing rather than frustrating (as he did), then he would just leave it alone. he was never one for pda anyways, so attempting to prove his relationship to his friends was kind of like beating a dead horse.
what vernon forgot to consider, however, was how nosy his friends were.
when it was time for all fourteen of you to spend the week at mingyu's beach house, he had let his guard down far too much, leading to a situation he'd like to consider both a win and a loss.
despite the sheer size of the beach house, housing fourteen people proved to be quite a difficult task, meaning that roommates were a must. with six rooms, everyone was separated into twos, with two rooms containing one extra roommate each. you and vernon always paired up together with no questions asked, except this time you were teased and mocked as you settled into your rooms, all while they assigned you chan as an extra roommate with the sarcastic intent of him keeping an eye on the two of you – "just want to make sure you don't get down to any funny business," had sad dokyeom in a mocking tone.
it was quite common for everyone but vernon to go out and play some badminton or basketball during these types of outings. he just wasnt a sports guy, and he was well loved despite his lack of participation. you'd occasionally join the guys, but would mostly hang back with vernon, which was what happened this time around. usually, you'd simply lounge around and watch a movie, but now that you were finally together, vernon decided to make better use of your alone time.
"are you sure we should be doing this?", you pulled away with a heavy breath, tilting your head back so vernon's lips could trail down your neck.
"it's fine, baby. they're all busy. they don't even believe we're dating, so they probably just think we're watching a movie," he explained as his hands attempted to get you to sit on his lap.
you didn't seem to need convincing as you slid over onto his lap, allowing his hands to guide your hips against his own. even through the pajamas you were wearing, he was sure you could feel his hardness under you.
"fuck, you're so fucking warm," he murmured as his hands went under your shirt, feeling up your warm skin and throwing it off in the process.
his lips went back to yours, groaning against you as your hips sped up against his own. easily frustrated, he laid you down, bringing down his pants and boxers to his mid thigh and leaving you in just your panties, adjusting his hardness so it'd grind itself perfectly against your clothed folds. the wetness seeping from your panties drove him insane with desire, but he couldn't stop grinding into you, growing easily obsessed with the stimulation. his lips had made their way back to your own, groaning endlessly against them while your hands pulled at his hair in a way that made his eyes cross.
"hmm, nonnie ..." you'd murmur every so often, making his resolve break little by little.
"fuck, is this okay, baby? just- wanna make you cum like this. i'll fuck you, i promise. just feel so fucking good like this," he groaned as you licked into his mouth, refusing to entertain any amount of separation.
eventually he reached down to your tits, tonguing at them like a starved man in search of his next meal. he was shameless in his desire for you, having wanted you for far too long and finally having you all to himself. no other thought occupied his mind at the moment. the touch and sight of your pretty body under his own was all his brain had the capacity of entertaining.
which was how neither of you noticed the boy suddenly intruding the scene, screaming in absolute shock at the nasty sight in front of him.
"oh my god?! you weren't lying?!"
what was even more unfortunate was how chan's yelling immediately alerted the rest of the members (or at least the nosier ones), leading to the door being filled by about seven spectators within seconds.
the only fortunate thing about the situation had been how fast vernon's protective instincts over you took over, covering you up with a blanket the moment he saw chan enter the room, preventing all the nosy men from having a peek at the nudity only vernon was allowed to see (and apparently chan too, as vernon had not noticed his presence until after the fact).
however, even as he covered you up, he left himself completely bare, having to take on all their shocked commentary whilst fully nude, barely able to pull up his boxers a few moments into their intrusion.
"no way, you're actually dating?!"
"either that or they took this joke a little far ..."
"man, channie's gonna be jacking off to this for ages."
"how the fuck did you score her??"
"do you guys want a third?"
these were only a few of the comments thrown at you and vernon within the first twenty seconds of the guys' presence in your room. however, to vernon it felt like a whole hour of scrutiny before he finally shook the shock off and began yelling at them to leave.
"get the fuck out! and never look at my girlfriend again!", he got up and began pushing them out as a few of them giggled at his anger whilst some others remained in shock at the situation.
in the meantime, you had pulled up the blanket over your head as you sat crisscross on the bed, likely too bashful to face the situation until your friends took their leave.
once vernon closed and locked the door, grabbing a pillow and throwing it outside for chan (who would not be allowed back in, by the way), vernon sped to your side, uncovering you, fully worried that you might be mad or petrified at what had just happened. to his surprise, you began laughing the moment you first made eye contact, causing vernon to furrow his eyebrows in question.
"baby, what the fuck? you find this funny?", he wasn't mad, but more so extremely confused.
"you got want you wanted, nonnie. there's no way to deny we're dating now," you grinned, crawling to sit on his lap again.
"god, i take it back. i'll never be able to fuck you again in peace. i was just about to cum, too."
"'was'?", you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning in closer, "you don't wanna anymore?", you tilted your head in fake curiosity.
"i mean-"
"they already know we're fucking. might as well have fun with it. right, nonnie?", you grinned.
chuckling at you, he couldn't help but agree with your horny logic. his boner was still half-there anyways.
"c'mere, baby."
3K notes · View notes
darnell-la · 3 months ago
Note
Wolverine forcing you to squirt for the first time?? Pretty please?
note: if you’d like an older Wolverine, you can request again. we wrote this one too fast and made it the younger Wolverine. it’s still hot!
follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!
———
“Can’t tell me you’ve never squirted before and expect me to move on with life,” Logan said after placing you on the bathroom counter he had dragged you to during a drinking game.
The party was loud and you could still hear people playing Truth or Shot. After one of the girls asked if a man had made you squirt, and you answered that you hadn’t even done such a thing, Logan knew he had to do something about it.
He had made an excuse, asking if you could come fill up his cup with him. Of course, you came with him. He was a good friend, but you didn’t know he’d throw his cup away and drag you to the nearest bathroom.
“L-Logan -- Calm down,” Y/n gasped as his teeth sunk into her neck. “Ah uh,” he crowled, needing to give her what she deserved. “Can smell you, baby -- Can’t just leave you like this,” the man’s hands ripped at her panties after he pulled her dress up.
The young girl let out a low and shaky moan as his finger pushed inside of her. His eyes glued right on her face, watching her fall apart on his fingers in an instant.
“C’mon, baby, give it to me,” he growled, as he turned and twisted his finger in and out of her. “Too much,” she said whined as her hands fell on his shoulder. “Fuck, there’s no way,”
Logan couldn’t believe it, It seemed like she was a virgin. There’s no way one finger would make her get like this.
“Don’t lie to me, baby — Just tell me another man’s made you cum,” Logan wanted to know, but he knew the answer already. His eyes still locked onto hers, as her eyes drifted away every few seconds. She felt high, but she hadn’t smoked or drank tonight.
“N-No one has, Logan,” y/n took a while to admit, but thankfully for him, she got it out. The young girl's mind was going crazy. Logan hadn't ever shown a lick of affection towards her, yet now he was worried about whether a man had touched her?
She was confused, but he wasn’t. The thought of another man making her squirt first was unacceptable to him. He couldn’t let that happen.
Logan let his ego get the best of him, but so what? He was going to make her squirt tonight, tomorrow, the day after, and then the days after that. He was going to be the first and then last.
“I know you can take another,” the man said as he pulled out, instantly pushing two in next. “Logan!” The girl moaned at the burning feeling of her walls stretching. She was wet, but she still had to get used to the new and unfamiliar feeling.
“Fuck, yes, baby,” Logan couldn’t get over her. She looked so damn pretty. He wished he had done this months ago. He’ll gain those days back. He’ll spend every day licking at her cunt until she drowns him.
“P-P-Please,” y/n stuttered hard, trying to close her legs, but the man used his free hand to push them back open. He gripped her tightly. She wasn't going to stop him. He needed this.
“Keep your fuckin’ legs open, or I’ll fuck this cunt dumb,” the man threatened, wanting nothing to get in the way of feeling her drench his fingers. She has already coated them with slightly white and clear liquid. She never knew a man would like how much she leaked.
“Logan,” the girl gripped his shoulders tighter with a sob, feeling the knot in her stomach getting harder to control. She was embarrassed, but he wanted all over her whether she wanted to give it to him or not.
“Be a good girl — Make a mess, and I’ll clean that shit right up,” the man told no lie as his two fingers curled. Within seconds, y/n’s mouth parted as her head leaned back. Her eyes crossed as she felt her legs go stiff and her toes curled.
“Augh,” she let out a choked cry as she released on the man’s fingers. “Oh, that’s it, baby — That’s it!” The man finger fucked her cunt a bit harder to get every last drop out of her.
“P-Please,” the girl pushed at his wrists, needing a break, but he wouldn't stop. She gave up after a while and decided to pull the man into a tight hug as she struggled to breathe.
Y/n was still leaking down his hand. She couldn’t stop. He had made the girl go on for almost an hour until she passed out on his chest. breathing lightly from the exhaustion.
Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing he had the girl dumb and cute, all for him. She was his. She marked him, and later when he sweet talks her into taking him as hers, he'll mark her.
3K notes · View notes
ittybittyfanblog · 2 months ago
Text
Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe)
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Summary: There were orders for your abduction. You were made to be the bait by a rival gang to get to the elusive head of Onychinus. Sylus doesn’t take it too well. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: mc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus (use of she/her pronouns), depictions of violence (it gets a little graphic), reader gets abducted and injured, strong language, protective!sylus, he’s a little unhinged here, self-indulgent! A/N: I can’t believe this game pulled me out of a three-year creative rut LMAO. I’ve been doing fanarts, now I’m writing again?? The power these pixelated men hold over me, man.  Anyway, enjoy!  This version of Sylus is probably a little OOC idk idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Tumblr media
It was close to midnight, and you're being followed.
On your six, a stocky man in an unassuming dark suit has been tailing you since you left the dingy bodega a little over a mile away from your apartment for about, three? five minutes– no, maybe even longer.
Shit, you mouth silently. Sloppy. You should’ve noticed him sooner, and the two other lackeys now closing in from up ahead. They’re armed too, if the hands hidden inside their jackets were any indication.
As if things aren't looking bad enough, you’ve decided tonight would be the perfect night to go weaponless, deciding against bringing your handgun with you since it was supposed to just be a quick run to the store for supplies. Namely, the late-night cravings sort of supply.
You clutch the wrinkled paper bag containing your coveted jalapeño Cheetos tightly.
This is what greed does to you, a mocking voice echoes in your head. Since when did your inner voice of reason sound masculine and oh-so-familiar? 
Exhaling quietly, you try to calm the rising beat of your heart and appear to be clueless of your surroundings. Walk at a normal pace. Look unaware of the men with the intention to… What even was this? An ambush? Good, old, regular robbery? No, it doesn’t seem like they were in it for something that insignificant. They wouldn’t even bother to be this cautious if it were. 
But then, what were they here for? The dangers you were more familiar with are of the monstrous kind in the literal sense of the word; entities that you face on a daily basis as a Deepspace hunter. Not the regular threats posed by mankind – which in this particular situation, suddenly feels more foreboding.
While racking your brain for ideas on how to slip away from their sight without escalating the situation, you fail to notice a fourth person hidden behind the dumpster inside the narrow alleyway on your left until you feel the cold, hard edge of a pistol gun hit your temple.  
With a shout, your hand shoots up in an attempt to yank the gun away from the hand holding it but the sudden burst of pain from the impact has left you feeling dizzy and off-kilter. The moment you throw your fists up to block your face, heavy fists strike you directly in a flurry of hits, colliding with your forearm and your unguarded ribs.
You let out a pained grunt as you stagger backwards, trying your hardest to keep yourself from falling back on your ass and ward off the next incoming attack. 
A sinister laugh alerts you of the others, now surrounding you in a circle. Shit!
You hastily shift your legs into a crouching position, bracing yourself as you attempt to sidestep the one in front of you before making a run for it. You spring into action, but before you can even take another step, an arm shoots out and coils tightly around your neck like a noose. A cloth that reeks of something distinct is slapped over your mouth and nose, rendering you unable to do anything but struggle. 
“Now, now– the boss wants her in one piece, John,” The stocky man, who’s apparently larger and more jacked up-close, pipes up. John tightens the limb circling your throat, preventing you from breathing, before slightly loosening his grip. 
 “I’d advise you from struggling too much, sweetheart. But if you insist on making this harder for yourself,” the man talking suddenly grins, revealing rows of crooked, silver teeth. “He ain’t said nothin’ about a couple of bruises.” 
You give him your dirtiest glare, trying to pull away from the death grip the burly man called John had on you, but you feel your muscles slowly becoming heavier and your vision starting to blur. 
Ch-chloroform?
You make a muffled shout, a scurry that earns you a heavy hit on the stomach, one last futile move to free yourself, but the inevitable effect of the potent substance starts to overpower you. 
“After all, we need to make sure that the big bad boss of Onychinus actually comes for his bitch, don’t we?”
Rendered completely useless, the men start to make quick work to restrain your arms and legs in a hogtie before carrying you down the street, to a shaded corner where a large, gray van is parked.
The barn doors open, and you’re tossed in carelessly to the back, landing painfully on the cold, hard floor. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips, feeling like one big bruise; splotches of red and blue start to form like a violent watercolor on your skin. 
The engine revs. Before completely losing consciousness, you think you hear a faint caw.
The car drives off the beaten path, into the night, leaving not a trace of evidence of what transpired mere minutes ago aside from a discarded brown paper bag and a deflated bag of chips. 
-
-
-
From a distance, flying towards the hazy skyline, a mechanical bird crows a bad omen. 
_____
In the dead of the night, the head of Onychinus sits as a spectator; a towering presence at the head of a table inside a private room, obscured in plain sight, in an unremarkable establishment far east of Linkon City. 
Unassuming as it may be, the room’s occupants are men of great renown, both in influence and notoriety. The CEO of a chain business in Azure Square, a regional manager of a well-known bank in Linkon, the head of a weapons trade representing a faction in the N109 zone… All held significant power, all held ulterior motives.
A meeting of minds; the type held only in the secrecy of the night, gone in the break of dawn. 
Sylus has half the mind to listen in on the droning exchange of fake pleasantries and plastic smiles as the men deal trades in nature that of weapons and favors. A number of hungry, beady eyes cast him furtive glances, fearful yet devout. Some cautious in the hope of earning his approval. 
“–the package will be en route to the agreed-upon address by the end of the week,” a stout man in spectacles finishes off, clearing his throat. Beads of sweat start to form at the back of his neck as red eyes bore into his, assessing. Deliberating. “O-or if Richard’s able to give me the go-ahead in advance, I’ll make sure it arrives by Friday,” a gulp–then, “sir.” 
All in reverence. 
He hums, his switchblade dancing idly in his hand, deliberately stretching the tension that hangs heavy in the air. He delights in this power to unsettle, savoring the authority that his mere presence commands—a demand for absolute deference. 
“Make it half that time, will you, Raymond?” Sylus responds amicably, not as a question. The man, Raymond, sputters. 
“That won’t be pos–” Sylus tilts his head, eyes shifting into something more dangerous. “Please, I’ll try to cut the time shorter but there won’t be any assurances.” 
The pale-haired man sighs in acquiescence. “I guess that will have to do.” Raymond lets out an exhale of relief, but catches his breath as Sylus continues, “Any later than Wednesday, and I’ll come to claim it personally.” 
Raymond, more nerves than man, starts to blabber something in response–but stops when something black suddenly appears in a blaze of dark energy, near the shoulder of the intimidating man he’s trying to appeal to. 
Sylus raises a hand, and a large crow lands on his pointer finger. 
He caws, once. Twice. And shows a projection. 
The inhospitably cold room suddenly went glacial. 
All conversation halts to a stop as an overwhelmingly suffocating aura starts to emanate from the man–no, the being at the head of the table, making all that are in the vicinity freeze in fear. 
The devil posing as the leader of Onychinus abruptly stands up, and Raymond thinks, Oh I’m going to die here.
Without a word, the man disappears in a Stygian haze.
_
Five minutes later, only after they felt like death was no longer looming over their heads, did anyone dare to move a muscle.
_____
Your head hurts, and your mouth tastes of rust. 
Having been awake for longer than your captors were aware of – two (?) of which bickering near a barred slate of metal that you assume is the door after taking a quick peek from beneath the mess of hair concealing your face – you try to get your bearings together without arousing the suspicion of your present audience. 
“–bet it’s gonna take a while ‘fore that guy arrives. You think she’s enough to get him to show his face?” 
“Damned if I know. In any case, we got a pretty, li’l plaything on our hands,” a snort. “Make her worth the effort.” 
Where were you? From what it looks like, you’ve been transported into a nondescript underground bunker of sorts, dank with a hint of mildew and rot in the air; a rumbling air vent on your left masking any noise that escaped your mouth when you woke up. The area is poorly lit, save for the flickering bulb hanging precariously above your head as your main source of light – good for casting shadows to hide your bruised face, bad for the pounding headache you’re pretty sure is a concussion. And with your back seemingly close to a wall, you arrive at the conclusion that there are no other entryways, no way to leave, but the guarded door in front of you. 
In short, you have no idea where you are. 
Fuck–this is bad, you swear to yourself internally, trying to control the rising panic swelling up your chest. You never thought your nightcap would lead to this mess. Nobody knows about your current predicament, and it’ll take more than a day before your absence raises any alarms, so right now, you’re on your own. 
Think, think! What can you do?
What can you do? You have nothing on you, nothing you can use as a makeshift weapon to defend yourself with, and your hands are tightly bound behind your back by a thick, heavily twined rope with no give. The situation is slowly turning bleaker by the second, and it isn’t even your fault that you’re here in the first place! You were made a pawn, a mere bait in this messed-up dick-measuring contest between a crazy, sadistic, self-proclaimed head honcho and Onychinus’s own crazy, sadistic–
Wait a minute. Sylus. 
You send a strong prayer to anyone above that’s listening, and an angry telepathic shout for good measure to the one who’s unaware of his involvement – but nonetheless the source of your ruined night – in this attempt at kidnapping a perfectly law-abiding citizen of Linkon.
Sylus, as much as I hate your unfortunate tendency to stalk me through means that, honestly? Eludes the hell out of me, I really, REALLY hope that you’ve been keeping tabs toni–
“Hey, boss! I think this one’s awake!”
Fuck. No use pretending anymore. 
You hear heavy footsteps from outside the room before the corroded metal door swings open to reveal a large man, easily standing above six feet, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and an unsettling smile. His arms are covered in tattoos– overlapping, almost undecipherable. A gnarly scar runs from the side of his mouth to just above his brow bone; his right eye a cloudy gray, most likely a morbid souvenir from the sustained injury.
His functional eye zeroes in on your pitiful form, and his smile widens into a hostile grin. 
“Well, well. It seems like our esteemed guest is finally ready to join in the fun,” His voice sounds like gravel, with a mocking intonation. “I hope my men weren't too rough with you on the way here.” 
You let out a breath through your teeth, blinking a few times to try and rid the blurring in your vision. You have to bide your time– “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” 
The man cocks his head to the side, smile still in place. “I assume you already know. But I’ll indulge you your little questions, why not?”
He crosses the space separating the two of you with just a few, languid steps before he’s in front of you. He leans forward, brushing the messy locks of hair – dried with blood – away from your face in a deceptively calm manner. “The devil needs to pay his dues, but it’s been rather difficult to get a hold of him, you see,” he sighs in exaggerated disappointment. ”I intend to collect, so I waited patiently for the right moment, for an opening. For an opportunity. 
And here, the opportunity presents herself.” 
You sneer, moving your head back to let your hair fall from his creepy hold. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, mister, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”
He barks out a laugh before gripping your chin tightly between his fingers. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. Maybe we can find a better use for it.” 
You feel it before you hear it. 
“Perhaps not.” 
Something vicious saturates the air, something intense and terrifying and wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and some sort of primordial response deep within your brain is telling you to get away from it.
But then, the paralyzing fear melts away to something akin to hope when you realize the source of this new disturbance.
Relief washes over you when familiar ink-and-red tendrils materialize behind the man in front of you. The dark wisps dissipate like smoke as soon as it comes and in place, your savior – sporting an expression that could only be described as downright murderous – stands before you, all six feet of unadulterated rage.
Several things happened so fast, it was almost simultaneous.
A cacophony of shouts came loudest from the two men who had been on guard duty but screams also echoed from outside the room. You saw flashes of red, twin laughter, and blood spurting from the necks of the now headless guards, and then a symphony of bullets and a lot of things breaking rang across the room. 
Suddenly– 
Deafening silence. As if something has put an abrupt stop to the noise. 
Amidst all the chaos, the scarred man in front of you had no time to make a move before savage whips of crackling energy engulfed him, leaving only his head free from the smothering darkness. 
His expression betrays something wild and manic as he tries twisting around to look at the figure behind him. “You–”
Sylus pays no mind to the breathing, dead fool – lower than dirt on his feet, with the nerve to harm what is most precious to him – as he keeps his gaze solely on you; his eyes darting up and down as if taking inventory of all the bruises and scrapes you sustained from the abduction. 
You meet his eyes. “You came.” 
An indecipherable look passes his face, gone as quickly as it came. “A little too late. I apologize.” 
You weakly huff out a chuckle, wanting to shake your head but decide against it lest it aggravates your concussion. A prickling sensation, then the rope around your wrists falls off with a quiet thud. 
“Luke. Kieran.” 
“Everything’s all accounted for, boss,” Kieran announces, suddenly appearing beside your right, along with Luke who’s on your left. Both look no worse for wear.
 The latter gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh, man. They got you good, little crow.” 
“Caught me off-guard, s’all,” you insist half-heartedly. 
A sigh. “Transport her directly back to base. Attend to her critical injuries once you arrive, and keep her awake. I’ll handle the rest once I get back,” Sylus instructs the twins in a tone that brooks no argument.
They nod in sync and start making a move to carry you out, but you protest.
“Wait, you’re staying behind?” For some reason, the thought of being separated from him, even for a short amount of time, makes you feel ill. Well, worse than your current state at least. 
Sanguine eyes soften when he hears the tremble in your voice. The offending man in front of you, reduced into something less threatening than a cowering dog in comparison to your rescuer, is forcibly pushed aside to make room for Sylus as he steps closer. 
He crouches low so that you’re looking down on him instead of up. One large hand covers both of yours, mindfully avoiding the fresh rope burns on your wrists, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the unmarred part of your skin. 
“This will be quick, sweetie. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “I swear to you.”
You swallow, but nodded reluctantly. “Come home soon.” 
“I will.”
With that, you let yourself be carried out of the claustrophobic space you were confined to, into a larger room littered with unmoving bodies that you're frankly too tired to care about at the moment, up three (rickety) flights of stairs where you exit into what looks like the inside of an empty shipping container, before finally, finally getting out. 
A gust of salty wind hits you and you ask, “Are we near the docks?” 
“Yeah,” Kieran answers, carefully putting you down on the backseat of Sylus’ car. “Mephisto trailed after the van they stuffed you in before reporting back to the boss. We followed soon after.” 
Luke frowns as he inserts the key in the ignition. “We weren’t aware that they had eyes on you for a while now. An oversight on our part, won’t happen again,” he assures you. “Gotta give them props for that, at least.” 
Kieran, now getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, shoots him a look. 
“Anyway, we’re glad we got to you before they did anything… worse,” Kieran continues, then winces in a show of mock sympathy. “Can’t say the same to that fucker back inside. Haven’t felt Sylus’ bloodlust this strong in a long while.” 
You try to focus on their words, but you feel yourself nodding off as the remaining adrenaline slowly leaves your body. You know you should feel more worried about what the two were insinuating, but your mouth still tastes like you swallowed a bunch of coins and you just want a soft bed to sleep in for an entire day. Or three. 
“Oi, no sleeping. Doctor’s orders,” A snapping finger in front of your face forces you awake. 
You blink your tired eyes open in an attempt to stay lucid, the pulsing pain in your head becoming more prominent as soon as the threat of danger has passed. 
“This is gonna be a long night,” you sigh, wishing that Sylus will keep his word and be quick about… whatever he’s planning to do with your abductor. 
–––––
There hasn’t been much left of the man who proclaims to be the new head of an arms syndicate Sylus had dealt with in the past. He recalls the history of his relationship with the cartel being less than cordial, but nothing that would warrant his ire. Except for tonight.
He usually doesn’t leave a trace when doling out punishments; no, not anymore. Not in recent years. He prefers to be efficient about his killings, dissipating any evidence in thin air after reducing them into fine paste, rather than make a big show out of it. Quick and precise.
Except today… Someone had the arrogance, the absolute audacity to steal directly from the dragon’s nest.
The contents of which have always been kept in strict confidentiality. What is known, only chosen individuals bound to secrecy are privy to, and a lot of people would kill for. 
But unbeknownst to anyone else but its owner, only one thing in this hoard of secrets truly matters to the dragon. One solitary treasure alone he would burn planets for – and someone has tried to steal it.
Harm. the treasure. To get to him. 
It seems as if the new bloods needed a reminder of who, exactly, they’re stealing from. 
One who dwells deep within the underbelly of the cities both monster and men inhabit, that even the most heinous of sinners seeking solace in the dark, are afraid of. 
And what retribution tastes like to those who are foolish enough to bite more than what they can chew.
The poor soul unfortunate enough to be the first one to discover the carnage will witness that what was left of the man that had wronged the Onychinus kingpin is stuck on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of a basement where the treasure was held captive. They will find that the man’s innards are deliberately hung in a haphazard fashion, in all corners of the room like bloody, sinewy tinsel. 
And the centerpiece of this bloodbath is none other than the man’s decapitated head, forcibly attached to the hanging light in the middle of the room. A bulb crudely drilled past his cranium, while blood dripped down the floor in slow, ominous rivulets. 
They will understand in dawning horror that the one responsible for this... gross butchery, has left the head swinging. That the man’s mouth will forever remain agape in an eternal scream to immortalize the exact moment he realizes the gravity of his sin.   
Yes, Sylus is more than glad to remind them. 
_____
You arrive a quarter past four AM. 
Barely taking a step past the foyer, the twins immediately whisk you inside to perform an ‘emergency patch-up.’ Luke’s words, not yours.
“We’re your personal CNA while waiting for the head nurse to take over,” he explains cheerfully, wrapping another layer of gauze around your wrist. You hiss when Kieran dabs a cotton ball on the gash on your temple, peroxide fizzing as it comes in contact with the dried-up blood. Muttering out a “sorry!” Kieran does quick work in cleaning the injury and covering the affected area.
In no time at all, all visible wounds are bandaged and disinfected. The worst of your head wound had to be stitched up, but other than that, nothing seems to require immediate medical attention. There’s nothing left for you to do but to bear the aches that came along with the bruises – especially on your tender midriff – and to pop a tylenol for your throbbing headache.
You offer them a sincere, “Thanks. No, really.” before they leave you in Sylus’ room, after multiple reminders to “not sleep before the attending nurse arrives for the final diagnosis.” 
(You think they might have enjoyed playing caretaker a little too much.) 
With a lot more effort than you care to admit, you painstakingly remove your bloodstained clothes until you're down to your underwear, before draping yourself in a large, red, silk robe. A hot shower sounds heavenly to your sore muscles, but the soft mattress is calling to you more so you head straight to bed. 
With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you prop your head on a mountain of pillows – to keep yourself relatively upright – and let out a sigh. 
Tonight had been a shitshow. All you wanted was something to snack on while you binge through the last season of the show you were watching back at your apartment; you never thought a late-night run to the store just a few blocks away would result in… this. If not for Sylus’ intervention, you’re sure you'd be leaving with a lot more than a couple of scrapes. If not worse.
You're lost in your own thoughts when short, successive raps on the door catch your attention. It swings open before you have the chance to pipe out a, “come in!”
Speak of the devil.
Sylus enters the room, not a hair out of place. You notice that he’s changed into a casual, brown sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His eyes meet yours, tightly-controlled expression relaxing as he crosses the room towards the side of your bed, wasting no time. 
“How are you feeling?”
“Still pretty sore, but Luke and Kieran already handled the worst of my injuries,” you answer, making a move to sit up. Sylus tuts disapprovingly, gentle as he puts a hand on your chest to prevent you from moving any further. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you. Once fully settled, he let out a deep sigh.
“You had me worried for a moment there, kitten.” He admits, a slightly rough edge to his voice as emotion seeps into it. He regards you intently, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re here, safe. 
Your hand reaches out towards his face. Without missing a beat, he leans in to nuzzle your palm, eyes closing shut. He reminds you of a big wolf, unbridled fire simmering beneath the surface, yet tame in the presence of his handler. 
“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” you assure him with a lopsided smile. “Give my thanks to Mephisto, as well. Tell him he gets a pass on the stalking this time.” 
Sylus opens his eyes, a hint of amusement and something else you can’t identify flickering through. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll be lucky if that bird gives you the privacy to bathe alone after tonight,” he jokes. 
He’s joking. Right?
You eye him for a moment before deciding to let it go. You're too tired to argue.
Instead, you cautiously ask a question you aren’t sure you even want the answer to. “What happened after we left?” 
Sylus expression doesn’t change except for the upward tick on the corner of his mouth; the same peculiar glint in his eyes coming across a little stronger. “They won’t be bothering you anymore. You don’t need to worry about anyone coming for you.”
“That’s not what I asked.” 
He hums. “Do you really want to know?”
You stare at him, and he stares back at you placidly. 
You purse your lips and look away. “Maybe not.” 
Sylus breathes out a laugh. He gently grasps your chin between his forefinger and thumb, guiding your head to meet his gaze once more. A softer look on his face, inching closer to yours.
Your heartbeat slightly picks up. In your vulnerable state, you feel a welling desire to bare your feelings to the man in front of you. You want to tell him how relieved you felt when you saw him in that cursed basement, how he was able to quell your fears with just his presence alone the moment he appeared in a familiar haze of black and red. Like your own, personal, vindictive guardian. 
Instead, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his. 
Sylus groans quietly, a hand cupping your face as he leans closer to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of contentment from being this close to him. You feel, more than you see, how his taut body loses the remaining tension from the events that transpired just mere hours ago, how he finally relaxes as he loses himself in you.
Very carefully, he eases you further down, cradling your head with one hand until it rests on a pillow. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses up to the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, then to your nose. 
He pulls back slightly, chuckling when you make a sound of discontent. When you open your eyes, you see him looking at you– half-lidded and tender. 
In a low voice, he instructs, “Rest. You need it.”
The feeling of exhaustion pulls you in, but before you surrender to it, you remind Sylus, “I’m not that fragile, you know. You don’t have to worry too much.” You poke his cheek and he catches the offending digit to bite it affectionately. “I’ll be up and running in no time.”
He doesn't speak for a minute, considering your words. His mouth sets into a thin line before letting out a sigh.
“And if you get hurt again? What then?" He whispers so quietly, seeming as if he's talking to himself.
"I'll get hurt again, that's for sure," You tell him, matter-of-factly. "But really, that’s just an occupational hazard. I’m sure you realize."
“Love — what a terrible, little thing,” he muses, half-forlornly, half in jest. "I’d rip this cold heart out and throw it in flames if I could.”
While speaking, his hand finds its way into the tangles of your hair, gently running his fingers through the strands in a lulling manner. His lips landing on the crown of your head softly. Reverently.
You hum sleepily.
“Of course you would, Sy.”
_____
“You’ll be glad to know that the artifact you had your eye on back at the auction will be arriving this Wednesday.” 
“Huh? But I thought it was already sold to someone else?”
Sylus shrugs. “I made a counteroffer.” 
“You didn’t have to. I told you it was fine.” 
“I know. But I also recall a certain someone telling me how much they wished they had placed a bid on it on our way back,” he pinches your cheek fondly. “Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s yours.”
“Oh. Well– thank you,” you yawn in response, leaning your head to rest against his palm.
His thumb strokes your cheek. “Anything for you.”
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
arminsumi · 5 days ago
Note
tattoartist!suguru losing nonchalance when reader flirts with him?
im down bad for him holy hell
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Oh, he's falling to pieces, got it bad for the girl he just met 'n he's gonna make a drunk little bet — y'think he's crazy enough to get your name tattooed on him? Or crazy enough to ink his name into your skin?
ㅤ★ wc; ~3k
ㅤ★ note; continuation of tattoo artist Suguru Geto!
ㅤ★ an; aaa!! you got my brain whirring like a laptop... tysm and i hope this makes u blush and kick ur feet as much as i did while writing!! 🍰✨
ㅤ★ tagz; @ohimsummer 💗@fairiesthrum💗 @heartofjasmina 💗 @kwonan 💗 @ghost-buddies 💗 @madamecorbie 💗 @mima0127 💗 @moggleatlife 💗 @natasaa13 💗 @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell 💗 @wakashudou 💗 @khaothick 💗 @candy-s72 💗 @creamflix 💗 @starriesworlds
ㅤ★ warnings; sum alcohol/drunkenness
Tumblr media
“So, was she joking, or am I your type?” Suguru asks, black eyes staring right into your soul.
“Mm, well…” you hum, giving his form a look-over – god, if only you could feel how hard his heart’s beating when you do this. “Maybe.” You reply teasingly.
“Aw, just ‘maybe’?” he groans, now leaning his hip against the edge of the display case that housed the studs and gauge earrings.
“Yeah, just ‘maybe’ – I’m teasing. No, she wasn’t joking; I’ve always had a thing for the black hair, black nails, bad boy look…”
“The ‘bad boy’ look…?” he questions, recalling what your friend had said earlier about bad boys being just your type.
“Yeah, the ‘bad boy’ look.” You giggle.
His heart beats even harder, muttering a naughty little “Well, lucky me.”
“Nah, not so fast – I’m a smart woman.” You warn.
“Oh, are you?” he clicks his tongue in defeat, “Damn, would you believe that my type is smart women? No, no I’m serious… I’ve got a thing for smart women.”
Your cheeks grow hot, the heat spreading to your ears.
“I can assure you that the ‘bad boy’ look is just an aesthetic; I’m really an artsy dork making a living off doodling on people’s bodies.” He shrugs.
“Hm… maybe, maybe not.”
You rub your lips together. He briefly licks his bottom lip. You look him up and down. He looks you up and down. Body language open and alive with attraction, the both of you stand in this air of electric tension that Shoko spies from the other end of the room.
She watches as the two of you giggle like little flirts, observing how totally absorbed the two of you are in each other’s company. When you catch her eye, Shoko gives you a wink and points at her wrist, mouthing “five more” – fair enough, the two of you have promised to get pizza.
Pizza first, boys later, right?
Five minutes more go by – adding to the total of four hours spent at the tattoo & piercing parlor. But despite her discomfort and need for a change of scenery, Shoko decides to linger around just a little longer so that the two of you can indulge in each other just a little more.
But now you're getting nervous – Suguru has you breathless, holding you in a battle of who can flirt harder? which you're starting to lose.
He's captivated by you. This 6’3, tattooed, goth-grunge, slightly dorky man chuckles and smiles like he hasn’t had this much fun talking flirting with someone in years.
It's going well, then your smile trips him up. I know, it’s always the smile, huh? If you see enough of it, you slip… and that’s exactly what's happened to Suguru. He quickly grows obsessed with the way your cheeks look when you smile – the image burns into his memory without him even realizing it in the moment.
No, in the moment he doesn't realize the magnitude of your effect on him. He's just thinking about himself, about you, about —
“I’ve gotta go,” you say goodbye finally, “I don’t want to keep my friend waiting. But you’ll probably see my face here again… she loves dragging me along for these kinds of things.”
He stutters, “Oh! Oh… yeah – yes. Of course. Looking forward to it… maybe next time, you’ll be the one getting ink in your skin.”
“Yeah right.” You smile.
It’s your French exit that makes his heart throb in need.
No, don’t leave yet… I like you – don’t you ever wonder how many acquaintances in your life have thought this when leaving your company? And you’ll never even know.
Oh, Suguru was thinking so hard about asking you to exchange numbers or to meet up for coffee, but he didn’t want to come off as too forward – no, no… he had to maintain his mysteriousness. Or at least, he had to cling to whatever was left of it after revealing his inner dorkiness to you.
*****
After you leave, he wanders in and out of his studio, has small interactions with his co-workers, and doodles ideas for tattoos down.
Throughout all of these things, your face is at the forefront of his mind. Your voice echoes in his head as he recalls every detail of the conversation you two shared. Then he starts smiling softly as he applauds himself for being so gutsily flirty with you… a stranger, just someone, who he probably won’t see again…
A girl with no name.
God, why was he so slow? He didn’t even ask for your name. Suguru groans.
Yes, he probably won’t see you again… not unless your friend brings you along for her next visit. How long does he have to wait? Weeks? Months? That’s insane.
Suguru stops doodling, stares at the scrap of paper, and then looks up at the wall displaying his works. He rubs his fingers back and forth across his mouth.
I gotta.
He looks over to his phone. He reaches for it, takes it into his veiny hand, unlocks it, and scrolls through his list of contacts.
And then he dials his client’s number. Shoko Ieri.
*****
Now, it’s been just under an hour since you and Shoko left the tattoo parlour. She’s complained three times about the pain because exactly three times she has leaned back on the seat – squishing the fresh ink wound against her chair. You just cruelly laugh at how her eyes twitch in pain and each time.
The two of you sit eating pizza.
“He liked you. Why don’t we go back and you ask him for his number?” she teases.
“No way… he’ll think I’m too forward.” You shake your head.
Then three minutes later, Shoko's phone goes off. She reaches into her backpack. She looks at the caller ID, then at you, then at the caller ID, then –
“… is that him?”
“It’s him.”
“What’s he calling for! Me?”
“Absolutely he’s calling for you – I can bet gold on that.”
It stops ringing. She tells you she’ll text him back but guess what? She doesn’t even need to, because he calls again.
“Relentless.” She giggles. “I’m answering.”
“Pretend I’m not here!”
She winks at you and answers, “Hey, Suguru, what’s up?”
The two of you lean in until the your foreheads press together – it’s still hard to make out every word.
“Yo.” You hear his smooth voice coming from the other side, “Sorry to bother you… (muffled)… your friend (muffled)… so embarrassed, so don’t tell her that I’m calling… (muffled)… what was her name?”
You clap your hand over your mouth when you hear those snippets.
She gives you a devious look before saying, “Oh! Well, she’s right here with me, actually, so you can ask her yourself.”
Mouth full of pizza, you freak out and X your arms to signal a fat NO WAY SHOKO! and fall to pieces all with the taste of pepperoni on your tongue.
But she just hands the phone over to you anyways, then proceeds to silently laugh as you spit out your pizza before talking.
“Hehlooo?”
“H-hey.”
You get right to the point. “My name’s Yn…”
“Oh… I like that… I’m Suguru.”
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
“Suguru. Suguru Geto.” He raises his voice.
Cheek hot against the screen of his phone, Suguru is silently freaking out at the tense silence. He can feel his stomach starting to flip. His mind blanks.
“Anyways! Um, that’s all.”
No. That’s not all. He has a novel’s length worth of things to talk about with you.
At this point, Shoko rolls her eyes at the two of you being so awkward on the phone and decides that she needs to take matters into her own hands.
So she snatches the phone from you.
“ – Suguru? Say, you wouldn’t be free on Saturday, would ya? Yeah, I’m going on a date with this guy… and I’d love to make it a double date with you and Yn if you’d like to –”
You hear him stutter out a yes, absolutely before Shoko can even finish her sentence. She grins.
Suguru can sense that the two of you are smiling and giggling. He can predict that the two of you are probably going to gossip about him being the 'dork from the tattoo parlor that called not once, but twice for the name of a girl he just met' – but he doesn’t care. He’s been presented an opportunity and taken it.
To hell with seeming too eager.
When the call ends, Suguru blows out a breath through his lips. Then he promptly texts his best friend. Dark strands of hair slip out of his sloppy bun as he puts his face over the screen, thumbs swift and eager.
Toru 🤞😜 lol bravo... but i thought u said she was out of ur league??
Sugu i mean... yes. she's way too pretty and smart for me. but i'm not gonna pass up this opportunity
Toru 🤞😜 still can't believe u called ur client just to get her friend’s name... lol
Sugu you would understand if you met her ok
Toru 🤞😜 damn she must be something else
Yes, yes you are something else — Suguru can’t even begin to describe why. Translating his thoughts into words isn’t his thing; he translates them into art.
****
It's later in the day. You're lazing around Shoko's apartment.
She confirms the time and place of the double date, and cackles on her couch while kicking her feet, teasing you for being so crazy about a guy you just met – her tattoo artist.
You just couldn’t stop talking about Geto Suguru.
“Shiiit, should I even let you and a bad boy like him be alone in a room together?”
“I can control myself.” you assure her.
She slowly shakes her head at you.
“Yeah right… but can he? I don't trust neither of you... miss crazy and mister crazy... you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”
You giggle to yourself, biting your thumb. “Maybe…”
“Oh girl…” she groans, causing you to giggle into yourself, “You’re gonna be licking the tail of his dragon tattoo by the end of the date tomorrow.”
“H-h-he has a what? And where?” you stuttered, lashes quivering.
She shakes her head at you. “God, you’re screwed…”
*****
It's Saturday night. The bar's more alive than ever.
You've learned that Geto Suguru does, in fact, have a dragon tattoo inked up his toned arm – and a tight-fitting black tank top that shows it off along with his martial artist’s physique, too.
He’s got a glint of the devil in his black eyes. Softly-delivered dirty jokes ready to roll off his pierced tongue. A habit of tilting his head and looking hungrily at your lips and neck.
“Martial arts, huh?” you ask with stars in your eyes.
“Mhm, I could teach you a few things.” He purrs in reply.
Your stomach starts squeezing and flipping – that’s got to be the flirtiest 'mhm' that you’ve ever heard in your whole life.
“You think so?” you purr back.
Now it’s his turn to feel that squeezy, flippy feeling in his stomach.
Fuckfuckfuck is all he could think when he looks into your eyes.
I’m gonna fall to pieces. You’re gonna be the death of me.
“Uh…  do you two need some privacy?” Shoko teases.
Oh. It’s a double date. How could you forget? Shoko is literally sitting beside you at the bar with her date. But for a second there, it really felt like it was just you 'n this deliciously tattooed bad boy.
“Maybe.” Suguru chuckles coyly.
“There’s a hotel just next door…”
“Shoko!” you scold, playfully shoving her arm.
She giggles into herself, sipping down her cocktail innocently as if she didn’t just electrify the air between you and Suguru. His throat’s tensing, foot’s tapping up and down on the bar stool – boy’s got long spider-legs, huh?
Now after that, Suguru grins wider – showing off his pretty canines – his posture assuming something self-soothing; he holds his elbows, arms squished against his ribcage, which just makes his biceps more pronounced. Oh why, why did he have to wear a tank top like that? Surely he’s aware of the effect it has on girls. Or maybe he’s oblivious…
Nah. He's not.
*****
“Did it hurt?” you ask, trying to blink out the tipsiness from your love-drunk eyes but you’ve got three cosmopolitans surging through your veins.
“Not really… I’ve got great pain tolerance.” Suguru replies.
“Oh really?” you blink up at him again and his mind goes blank.
“Look at that...” He murmurs softly, not breaking eye contact with you. Where’s your friend and her date? Who knows. It’s just you and him now – and that’s all he wanted.
“Hm?”
“Not every day I see eyes like that…”
You widen your lips into a smile, “You’re laying it on thick.”
“Am I? Sorry – see, this is what happens after you feed Suguru too much rum. I just can’t keep my mouth shut.”
“That’s terrible… need someone to shut ya up?” you flirt.
He tilts his head at you, loose strands of hair shifting across his cheek. His left brow quirks up – he’s so taken aback by your forwardness but he falls right into it.
You just giggle flirtatiously after making that comment and pull the straw of your drink between your lips, sucking the remnants of a cosmopolitan into your mouth as sensually as you dare to in front of a bad boy who’s got bedroom eyes on you.
“I think I could do with some shutting up…” he admits.
“Mm,” you hum, “y’think by our third date you’re gonna snap and kiss me hard like we’re in a movie?”
Suguru smiles bashfully and looks down into his drink, swirling the melting ice cubes with a straw – slowly, round and round, they clink. Then he draws his gaze back to you, catching you with a sultry side-eye, and now it’s not just the ice cubes that are melting.
“Nah-uh…”
“Nah-uh?” you question.
“… I think it’s you who’s gonna snap first.” He says.
“Wanna bet?” you tease.
“Sure. What’ll be at stake?” he asks.
He keeps his sultry gaze on you as you look off to the side in thought for a moment. Your friend’s joke echoes in your mind.
“… you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”
Then you look back to him – his heart throbs but he’s trying to keep it together here, pulling his straw to his lips to get a sip of whatever rum still exists in his glass.
“Loser gets a regrettable tattoo?” you suggest.
He looks at you with a little bit of disbelief at your boldness.
“How regrettable?” he questions, one eye squinting shut in suspicion. He's wondering just how wild you actually are.
“Like my name on you? Or vice versa.”
He covers his mouth and lets out a chuckle hearing this. “You want me to tattoo my name on ya skin?” he teases. “Sure, I’ll bet on that.”
You can’t believe that he’s matching your crazy.
You stutter, replying only after a lingering moment of hot eye contact, “… there’s no way I’m gonna snap first…” you say boldly, proceeding to pop the cherry of your drink into your mouth and eating it right in front of the poor boy’s eyes. “ ‘m gonna have you walkin’ around with my name on you.”
Eyes glued on your lips, his breath catches in his throat.
“Yeah?”
Ooh, there it was. That feeling. That body singing electric songs feeling… that tummy-tightening, blood-rushing, skin-flushing feeling – it hit him all at once. He knows that if he were standing, his knees would have buckled now for sure, or at least he would have felt the tremor of your words under his feet.
He’s unsteady – smiling uncontrollably, looking dishevelled and softly drunk. Those rouge lips are begging to be kissed.
The bar grows quieter and quieter.
You’re hardly able to call each other anything more than strangers, and yet you’re leaning into him, closing the distance.
The tips of your noses are just inches apart now. You’re in each other’s air. He eyes out your lips, feels your hot, liquor-scented breath tickle his face.
But when you try and close the distance, he raises his hand and presses his thumb against your soft lips, stopping you.
“What happened to that bold statement, huh? Keep it together, baby; the bet’s on.” He feathers against your face.
*****
Tumbling into Shoko’s apartment after a night out drinking, you smile and giggle into the pillows of her bed.
She’s letting her hair down and swapping out her tight dress for jammies when she looks at you in your gleeful state.
“Someone’s in love.” She teases, coming over to tickle you.
“I’m not in love!”
“Oh, quit the act; I saw how the two of you said goodbye – you could barely hold yourself together. Drunk or not, I ain’t seen two adults giggling like that before.”
“Sh!” you swat her, “Not! In! Love!”
She takes a look into your eyes and observes your smile, then shakes her head. You're drowsy, so you make a dive into her bed and fall asleep almost instantly.
Shoko pulls a blanket over you, affectionately ruffling your hair.
“Madly in love, at the very least.”
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes