#the one you never answered cause you forgot

[wrtzia]

I’m not afraid - Carl Grimes

Summary ; After the famous accident which caused Carl to lost his eye, Reader is determined to bring a smile back to her boyfriend's face.

Warning ; mention of death, mention of SA, mention of betrayal, mention of missing eye (?) [let me know if I forgot anything]

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The smile on his face started to vanish the day following the accident. The reason for this was confusing. Perhaps it was because that night a lot of people died. Maybe the way he lost his eye, betrayed by who he thought was his friend. Or because of how close he has been to death.

No matter what the reason was, a mix of all that or something completely different, making your boyfriend smile had become your mission. That’s why you were currently holding a bunch of comics books and sweet food, which you have been hiding for a little while in your room. The knock on his door had been heard 3 minutes ago as you were waiting for him to open the door. 

Eventually, the door opened on a looking tired Carl. His eyes were messy, the bandage covering his now missing eye and the second one looking as if he had just woken up. “..It’s early.”

You smiled at him, showing all the different things you brought him, causing the boy to sigh and allowing you in, a small smile there, like every time you were there. Your feet brought you inside, putting everything down on his messy bed before throwing a few of his clothes in the laundry bag. 

“I got you comics books, chocolate, candies, cookies-” You were stopped by his hand on your shoulder, making you turn around to meet his eye. His hand was warm even though your t-shirt. He was very slightly bent down to be at eyes level, considering the height difference. “And when did you get all of that ?”

A sheepish laugh left you, your hand meeting your neck in a scratch. You knew he wouldn’t like your answer, you had put yourself in danger, but you have always been a bad liar, it wasn’t about to change today. “I..Found them on an expedition.”

And like expected, his only eye widened, his eyebrows met in a frown as the following words came out of him, “alone? You put yourself in danger for that ?”

You shrugged, knowing exactly he would act like that, “But I’m all good, not a single scratch.” Your eyes looked at the items on his bed, “and you were sad, I wanted to make you feel better.”

Immediately, his face relaxed, his expression softening. Gently, his hand still on your shoulder rubbed it, a silent ‘thank you’. “You don’t have to, I’m all good.” but you knew he lied. By the way he wouldn’t look into your eyes, his grip on your shoulder slightly tighter while he was talking. His eyebrows still slightly furrowed and not any smile on his lips.

“But you’re not. Since that night, you’ve been completely distant.” and the boy knew you were right, because he was a choice of his. A part of him was scared you would abandon him ; not everyone wanted to date a cyclops. He sighed, his eye meeting yours for the first time since that night.

‘’I’m scared.’’

Your breath caught as you looked at him, an eyebrow raised. You knew he was insecure, it seemed evident and who wouldn’t be after such an accident ? But him being vulnerable near you hadn’t happened since that time he almost got sexually abused by this creepy old man. 

‘’I’m scared you will think less of me now.’’ Your eyes softened when you heard the following words coming from him. As in on instinct, you took him in your arms. In your eyes, he was the most sweet and handsome boy of Alexandria. He had a heart of gold and was definitely capable of everything for you. 

‘’I could never,’’ your voice was soft, your hand rubbing his back in a soothing mention as the other started playing with his soft hair. ‘’I love you for who you are inside. Sure, I love your pretty face, but your personality is what I’m drawn to. You're always here for me when I need you, and it’s my turn now.’’ 

You then smiled, a smile giggling leaving your lips. ‘’Plus, surviving a bullet on the eye is badass.’’

Just like you, your boyfriend let out a small chuckle. Here, you had succeeded in your mission ; you made him smile. He put a kiss on your lips, the simple movement strong enough to show you how much he loved you and was grateful for you. 

It would take a while for him to be confident again, but you wouldn’t leave his side, clearly more than determined in helping him. You would probably start right now, by showering him with kisses and cuddles.

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Main masterlist

[lordgeneralsix]

reckoning – a dissection

kcd2 has incredible quests from beginning to end, but reckoning has to be my favourite purely because of what it represents. it hasn't left my mind since i first played it, so I wanted to take a step back from my own feelings to share why I believe it’s such a strong quest narratively and thematically—as well as present defences for all three objectives and their outcomes rather than wave them off as bad writing or out of character behaviour.

(kcd2 spoilers under the cut. 2k words)

the heart

reckoning, I believe, is the culmination of henry’s three personal drives: avenge his parents, find martin’s sword, and protect hans.

through this quest, henry has the chance to make decisions that align with each drive: kill markvart, find samuel, and/or get help.

but you don’t know where markvart, sam, or the horses are. and finding the horses is the only mandatory objective, making markvart and sam completely missable if you don’t go out of your way for them (especially for markvart as it takes more effort to get to him than to sam). this is intentional, as your choices reveal your priorities. is revenge more important than aid? would you risk suchdol for one reckless man? or do you leave, hoping markvart will get what he deserves one day and that sam will be okay on his own. if you’re careful, you can achieve all three, but the cost of wasting time might risk suchdol falling.

the plan

it was obvious from the plan’s conception that it was a suicide mission. someone had to sneak out of suchdol, find a horse, and get a message to jobst. the two brothers alone are tasked with this burden as hans is told once again it’s not safe for him to join—better to send people of little consequence than risk a noble hostage once more. henry is sure of the plan, we know he’ll get the job done or die trying, but sam’s assertion that he had unfinished business beyond the walls meant nothing good if you paid any attention to his behavior and why he joined the devil’s pack in the first place—I’ll tell you it wasn’t because he wanted to make friendship bracelets.

with little time to make preparations, it’s time to leave; salvation on henry’s mind, vengeance on sam’s, and the fate of suchdol on their shoulders...

(for the sake of not going over the same points, I’ve grouped each drive with each objective into three sections and it goes as follows: the past - confronting markvart, the present - finding and saving sam, the future - finding and leaving sam. “henry’s hope” logic applies to leaving without looking for sam or markvart as well)

the vow

henry never forgot his vow to find markvart von aulitz no matter the cost. thanks to the dry devil’s lethal shot to markvart’s chest, henry now has a chance to meet the man face to face, to get answers, and his revenge. markvart tells henry he won’t make it till morning, but who knows. people have survived worse, and henry can’t risk even the slightest chance of him surviving this.

markvart speaks to henry without the armour and finery, man to man. it’s a strange conversation. one that would never have occurred had the devil not declawed him. only, it’s different than confronting istvan. their words are similar, telling you once again that "war is a nasty business" yet you feel markvart believes his cause is a necessary evil rather than playing the victim. it’s unnerving how calm he is. you’ve seen this before at maleshov, how von bergow and erik’s words were wrapped in malice, but markvart’s remained cold and assured. this is not the same devil henry saw in his nightmares, and you wonder if there may be any truth to his words. your enemies were people too, fathers, brothers, orphans who were forced into the war just like henry. it's a strange thing to look into your enemy's eyes and see their humanity staring back.

whether you choose to listen or wave off his mad ramblings, you’re left with a choice. though it seems fate shows her twisted sense of humour once more, because it doesn’t matter what you do; the devil already killed him a month ago. all henry would be doing is getting his hands dirty for the satisfaction of saying he finally avenged his parents. you can fulfill markvart's wish for a dignified death, or give him the same kindness he gave your parents. regardless of what you do with him; his fate is sealed.

if you choose to let him bleed out, you can find him again in the morning where henry reflects, “you see? nobody took care of you. now you lie here, abandoned and defeated. I can’t believe I used to be afraid of you. and that you haunted me in my nightmares. maybe you thought you were only doing your job. that you were on the right side. but that doesn’t matter now. farewell forever, markvart.”

markvart von aulitz is dead. it’s a hollow victory, but a weight lifted nonetheless. the past has finally settled into it’s grave and henry can now look forward to rebuilding what was taken from him.

the blade

this “piece of iron”, whose reason for existing remains a mystery, is all henry has left from skalitz. whether it was forged for radzig or henry, the sword fell into samuel’s hands on that fated night. the blade revealed their hidden connection to each other, a bond unknowingly forged by martin long ago. and though sam was hesitant to tell henry the truth, it must have been a great relief and comfort to be embraced so easily as brothers after losing his home moments prior. perhaps along with his feelings of being an outsider in skalitz, henry longed for someone who understood him more than a friend ever could. but in turn, samuel needed someone who understood him, too.

as you navigate through the praguer camp searching for sam, you find traces of a struggle, and you follow the trail until you hear voices—an easily recognizable french traitor. you get the sinking feeling you know who he’s interrogating. soon you face him; vauquelin brabant. the man who betrayed the devil’s pack and killed adder, and he was surely going to do the same to sam. after you defeat him in a fight, he’ll beg for his life and try to make a deal. brabant has no power here, so killing or sparing him is of little consequence except on henry’s moral conscious, and like a coward he runs off to alert the guards if you choose the latter. ultimately you are left alone with sam.

sam gave his coin and sword-arm to the devil’s pack for a chance to get back at von bergow. nothing more, nothing less. after being denied his chance at maleshov, he intended to find von bergow after the pack was done with him. but von bergow is long gone by the time the chance arises; it's just as the captive soldier told henry. maybe if they told sam he wouldn’t have run off without henry—because nothing else would have stopped him, not even his beloved brother. it was inevitable that his impulsiveness would be the death of him as he showed no sign of giving up.

sam had told henry before they left that he’s counting on him, and the solemn look he gave godwin and henry before he scaled down the wall inspired no comfort. it’s obvious by this point that he never intended to help henry with the mission. perhaps in a world where his plans worked, but not in this one. it would've been hypocritical for henry to berate sam for having his own hit list, instead he assures sam he would have done anything he had asked of him. henry understands his brother’s pain better than anyone, because just like him, sam was forced out of his home and watched his people be slaughtered, just like him, sam wanted revenge no matter the cost. they may not be blood related, but by god are they similar at heart.

henry made a vow to never let anyone die due to his cowardice again and he intends to keep it. but sam protests, he’ll only slow henry down and assures him he’ll be fine, that maybe he can convince them zizka would pay ransom. he knows he fucked up, that no one will come for him before the praguers show just how merciful they are, and he won’t drag henry down with him. henry doesn’t care. sam is hurt, but not fatally wounded like adder was, he will survive the trip—he won’t survive the praguers. with nothing left to say, henry hauls his dazed brother over his shoulder and carries him to the horses...

saving sam sacrifices the silver. but with so many souls lost over something that will surely continue the cycle of violence, maybe it’s for the best.

the sacrifice

time is precious. no one knows how much longer suchdol can hold off without aid. samuel made his choice and now henry needs to make his. he’s exhausted, starving, desperate, and barely holding onto his sanity. they’ve already lost too much, and all he knows is if he doesn’t get aid for suchdol as soon as possible, they will perish—godwin, zizka, and hans with them.

hans is henry’s closest friend and potential lover, they’ve been through good and bad times together, always finding each other no matter what separates them—that’s his anchor, the reason he fights for a better world. henry sacrificed so much for hans. was he really going to abandon him now, when he, and everyone else need him the most? would he risk the soldiers, civilians, and nobility all for one man? would he let the silver, which too many people have died over, disappear and let this entire struggle be in vain? it’s a grim choice to have to make, and as horrible as it is, the best choice to make is the one that avoids the most death.

and sam knows this. he would slow henry down. there’s too much hinging on henry’s haste and if he gets caught hauling sam, they’re both dead. sam mentions how they sent two of them for a reason—this was a suicide mission, but not for henry. when trying to make henry leave, he comforts him with the prospect of a ransom, the sliver of hope that maybe sam will be okay. henry leaves with this strained hope. he desperately wants to believe sam will be okay, and when he returns with jobst’s army he eagerly asks where sam is as if he was truly expecting him to be there.

it’s a terrible thing. zizka tells henry “that’s war”, because the battle-hardened general knows exactly how it goes, but this is of no comfort to henry. he doesn’t want to hear it. he’s the only one who seems to care about sam, but godwin and katherine offer to help henry send samuel off as best as they can. it’s a bleak ending for sam, one he didn’t deserve even if he made a mistake...

sacrificing sam saves the silver. perhaps it was a necessary trade to make all the bloodshed worth it, but henry won't ever forgive himself for leaving his brother.

reckoning

regardless of your beliefs, reckoning makes everyone involved feel the weight of their choices. from confronting markvart to sam’s recklessness to henry’s burden—this quest is the perfect culmination of the story’s essence as it shows how under the right circumstances, even the most righteous people can make a lapse in judgement. the tragedy of henry's hope and the hopelessness of the entire suchdol siege, is the point. it shows once again how there's no winning in war; you can't have it all. and those who are caught in it are always forced to make difficult decisions that will haunt them for the rest of their lives.

[thefixeraa]

... starter call , @parieur : accepting .

a cool demeanor , a nonchalant air ... chaos thrived in these tense moments , and yet it doesn't seem to bother her at all . the fixer felt more at home here among the stress and uncertainty . she was always used to the way change comes with time ( as opposed to the other party , who can't deal with the slightest inconvenience . ) whether it put her in a good or bad position , it was mia's ability to stay on her feet at all times and always , BE ONE STEP AHEAD OF EVERYONE ELSE . it figures a man so rigid and by the books , could not afford for anything to go ass up . everything needed to be perfect , even if it wasn't . mia's duffle bad sildes off her shoulder , and in it goes into the trunk with an audible thump . head bobs along with his words ( she sniffs the air and all she could smell was the coming storm . BLOOD WAS SURE TO BE SPILLED . )

mia goes to shove her duffle bag further into the trunk of the car . when the gps was put into her view , " no roads and armed men , in the ass end of where ever the fuck we are ? " her head nods off to the side and then chuckles , " sounds like a fuckin' party . " her body straightens and leans against the car , the seriousness that pertains to this job is quite evident in marcel's voice . " can't forget the reason why you dragged my ass outta bed , just to cover yours . " naturally the little jab is said with humorous intent , becuase it can't always just be serious . which will be expertly protected while she was there , so he needn't worry too much about it . plus ... SHE'S HERE TO LIGHTEN THE LOAD . " is there any particular group of people i have to worry about more ? "

[monkee-mobile]

okay random headcanon but peter likes to nuzzle with his nose!! he gets all smiley and snuggly and just nuzzles in!!

also the monkees set aside time in the day to snuggle, usually before they crash for bed. this probably starts sometimes in the 70s and continues as they get older

okay thank you bye!!!

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

which sentai serieses have u seen?

oh gosh... please hold while I consult THE CHART...

In no particular order, I have now seen:

Lupat, Kyuranger, Zyuohger, Ninninger, Shinkenger, Kiramager, Goseiger, Gokaiger, Abaranger, Donbrothers, ToQger, Magiranger, Kakuranger, Hurricanger, Go-busters, Jetman, Boukenger, Timeranger, Megaranger, Carranger, Liveman and Go-onger. (also gonna count Strongest Battle for giggles...)

I have a few episodes left in Kyoryuger and Gingaman... Recently picked up Ohranger again... and I've seen around nine to twelve episodes of Zenkaiger for data purposes.

And of course I'm watching Kingoh as it comes out!

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley who holds his breath when he's about to come. CW : blowjob, sub Simon, mentions of masturbation, PiV, mentions of being recorded during sex.

It was a horrible habit. You had to constantly remind him to breathe when he's about to come.

He gained the habit years ago when he was first in the military barracks as a recruit. He had to be quiet, obviously. The only issue was that he was rather loud when he came. Thus began the habit of holding his breath to not make any sounds.

But now you felt obligated to break the habit.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Your mouth was hot and wet, Simon knew your knees had to be aching with how long you'd been sucking his cock. And yet the selfish part of his brain didn't want to stop you. He couldn't.

Fuck he was close. So so so fucking close.

"Simon" you state firmly "breathe or I'll stop"

Simon didn't realise how lightheaded he'd become. A gasp coming from him. Both to fill his lungs and from your mouth enveloping his cock again.

A pathetic whine fell from Simon's lips as he came down your throat. His hips bucking weakly. He was so used to holding his breath as to not make a sound, that he didn't think to make his moans more masculine.

"You gotta remember to breathe, Si" you remind him. He didn't answer.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You were riding him after he finally got back from a three week deployment. Both of you desperate to feel each other after being apart for so long. The best you got was shitty reception phone calls where the dirty talk was barely audible as you finger yourself.

Your hands were on his chest for stability, Simons hips thrusting up into you while his fingers bruised your hips.

Your cunt clenched around him. And he couldn't stop his rapid climax. His lungs holding in the air he had in them. Nodding his head as his eyes squeezed shut.

He was snapped out of his haze as you firmly grabbed his jaw. Still riding him.

"Breathe" you demanded. And Simon nodded, gulping down air again. Moaning rather loud as he came.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After a while, at least a year. Simon would break the habit. Much to your enjoyment and relief.

That was up until Simon came home with an expression that was both furious and embarrassing.

"What happened, Si?" You asked in concern.

"Got hard at work cause you sent me that pretty picture of you in that sundress. Tried wanking one out in my office. Johnny heard me when I came because I forgot to hold my breath" Simon glowered.

Immediately you tried holding in your laughter. And you knew that Simon found it at least somewhat funny.

"Never gonna hear the fucking end of it at work" Simon huffed, lifting you up off the couch and over his shoulder. heading straight for the bedroom. "Gonna record you moaning f'me and send it to the lads. That way when you come wi'us to the pub, I won't be the only one getting shit on"

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe can’t always be mean to his delicate flower, can he?

c/w: fluff with a little bit of angst in the beginning, rafe feeding sensitive!reader pasta, slight subspace, smut: oral (f receiving), overstimulation, use of daddy & dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2k

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Sock-covered feet pad along the hardwood floors when she finally hears the lock of the front door turning. Rafe’s home later than usual— a fact she’s entirely too aware of since she’s been impatiently waiting for him to return ever since he left her this morning without so much as a goodbye.  

Usually, she’d stir awake to him smearing kisses all over her face and mumbling sweetened words about how much he’s going to miss her during his meetings— sometimes even wake her up with his cock prodding at her entrance before fucking her all sleepy and sloppy until she’s a sobbing mess.   

However, she assumes he was still mad at her because she forgot to let him know she was going out for drinks after her lecture before her battery had died. Therefore, she hadn’t received his several calls or the texts filled with concern and only a few hours later, did she remember that she’d never actually sent the message regarding her whereabouts.  

When he came to pick her up after she’d borrowed her friend’s phone in order to reach him, he was clearly displeased; merely muttering out a “ask you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. You know how fuckin’ worried I was?” and crudely telling her to go sleep in the guest room because “daddy doesn’t feel like dealing with your shit tonight”, which had resulted in wet droplets surfacing to her waterline while she kept apologizing over and over again, but to no avail.   

In the morning, she’d woken up to a tear-stained pillowcase and a headache. And when she tiptoed over to the bathroom, she realized that the entire house was desolate; he hadn’t even left a note.   

Therefore, she’s not exactly sure how to approach him, hesitant in her movements before she sees him in front of her in all his glory.   

“Hi,” her voice is quiet, but her forlorn face lights up nonetheless. 

Rafe is in the process of mindlessly kicking off his shoes when he looks up; a tired smile tugging at his lips when she practically tumbles into his arms in a greeting.  

“Missed you,” she mumbles against his crisp button up when he rests his big hands on her hips in an attempt to steady her.   

“Missed you too,” he murmurs into her hair. “Got you somethin’,” he reluctantly pulls away in order to present her with a bouquet of pink lilies; her favorites.  

“What’s this for?” her moony eyes stare up at him in bewilderment.  

“Drove past a flower shop…guess they made me think of you,” he admits, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek; confusing her to no end.  

“But I thought—” she utters out, hesitant to take the flowers she feels unworthy of.   

“That I was mad at you?”   

She nods, looking up at him with guilt swimming in her eyes.  

He lets out a sigh.  

“Listen, I was, uh, maybe a little too harsh on you last night, okay? I know how forgetful you can be. Was just worried when you weren’t home and didn’t answer your phone until hours later. Thought somethin’ happened, you know?” he explains with a calmness that placates her racing mind as she accepts his gift.   

“I know, m’sorry. Won’t happen again, promise. Texted you today the second I was home, right?”   

“You did,” he confirms as he peels off his suit jacket before sniffing the air. “Smells good, what’re you making?”   

“Oh, I made you dinner,” she says bashfully, almost as if waiting for his approval.  

“You did? All by yourself?” his brows climb his forehead in surprise.   

She nods, a soft smile on her lips before he’s ushering her towards the kitchen and plucking a glass vase from the top shelf for her. 

Usually, he’s the one cooking for them since she’s not greatest in the kitchen, always so tired after studying the whole day, she’d probably forget the stove on and cause some sort of a fire due to her absentminded nature. Therefore, he prefers to prepare his girl a nurturing meal whenever he doesn’t have to work late.   

“How was uni today?” he asks as she sets the now flower-filled vase on their dining table.  

“A lot. Was kinda stressed the whole day cause I have so much homework and reading to do, don’t know how I’m supposed to have time for all of it. And then have this group project and the deadline for this essay approaching and…I don’t think my brain works anymore,” she sighs out when she peers down at the steaming bowl of spaghetti Bolognese he places on the counter.   

“Good thing you don’t need to worry that head of yours over anythin’ with me. Let dad do the thinking for you, yeah?” Rafe’s voice is as smooth as honey, causing her to blink up at him— something cottony dusting over her mind in response to his sugary cadence.   

Strong arms lift her up and place her on the marble countertop before he settles right between her thighs, like a puzzle piece she’s been missing the entire day; tall frame hovering over her even as she’s practically perched on a pedestal.   

Then, he’s picking up the plate in the most casual manner and contently shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth before groaning in satisfaction.   

“Shit, this is amazin’,” he praises around the mouthful.   

She mumbles out a flustered thank you, her thoughts all over the place since she thought he’d still be mad, but then suddenly he’s not. In fact, he’s seemingly in a great mood.   

“Did you eat yet?”  

“No, was, um…waiting for you. Didn’t wanna eat alone,” her volume is nearly inaudible. 

He stops chewing.   

“Waitin’ for me, huh?” he rasps out before he’s lifting the fork closer to her mouth.   

She looks up at him, puzzled.   

“Open,” he orders and she has no choice but to obey— let him feed her because truthfully, whenever she’s around him she gets a little dumb; can’t really focus on anything except his low drawl and gemstone eyes.   

“Good, right?”  

She hums her agreement around the bite, barely registering that some of the tomato sauce stains her chin in the process.   

“Always so messy, huh?” he tuts disapprovingly, even if he’s the one holding the fork.   

However, before her mushy brain has the time to even comprehend what he’s doing, he’s laving the flat of his tongue under her mouth; cleaning it up for her.   

“There we go,” he murmurs as he rubs a thumb over the spot for good measure.   

She swallows.   

“Want some water?” he asks and she nods, all of a sudden unable to utter out words.  

Then, he’s tipping a glass of ice-cold water to her lips, carefully watching her gulp down the liquid before he decides she’s had enough— withdrawing the cup in order to drink some of it himself.    

He continues feeding her every other bite and making casual conversation, all the while she feels herself softly slipping into a very specific headspace. And before she realizes, he’s placing the empty dish in the sink with a slight clatter; their bellies full and happy.    

She doesn’t think she wants to eat by herself ever again.  

Then, her foggy mind registers him in front of her again as he pulls her closer— warm palms slipping under her top and his thumbs idly smoothing over her tummy while she quietly stares at him with hearts for eyes.  

“You put this tiny thing on just for me, hm?” he questions as his eyes drop down to her cleavage; the pale pink lace doing a very poor job of concealing what’s underneath since she’s forgone a bra (and pants), as she usually does whenever she’s merely loitering around their home.  

“Look so pretty in this,” his dreamy voice rumbles as he swipes a thumb over a covered nipple, causing her to let out a faint gasp at the sudden contact.  

“Ray…” she hums out while he keeps rubbing over the squishy part of her body he knows gets her buzzing.  

“Hm? You feelin’ floaty already?” he asks with a gentle cadence. And she’s not sure how he always seems to know just the right words to say in order to turn her into clay.   

“Yeah, missed you so much,” her hazy eyes flicker over his face while he simply gazes at her, before he’s smearing his mouth on hers.   

There’s something hungry, primal in the way he groans against her lips— causing a whimper to escape her throat in response.  

Then, all of a sudden, he’s lifting her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing more than a single paperclip; making her squeak out a sound of surprise when he jokingly smacks her ass while walking out of the room before throwing her on the bed.   

“Let daddy say hi to his favorite girl, yeah?” he coaxes her before he’s prying her thighs apart and nuzzling his face into her cunt through the material of her panties; nose bumping against her clit, making her shift closer to him.  

“Missed my pussy so much, you know? Wanted to fuck you nice ’n slow last night but you never came home.”   

“M’sorry, daddy,” she can’t help but whimper out when his warm tongue licks over the already dampening fabric of her underwear.   

“Yeah? You gon’ make it up to me? Let me eat you ’till I forgive you?”  

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want,” she blabbers, a whine leaving her vocal cords when he plucks the soaked through material to the side and blowson her sensitive cunt.   

“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he says in awe, letting spit drip down his tongue and onto her folds anyway. Then, he’s wrapping his lips around her clit, making her cry out because she can already feel her orgasm lingering underneath the surface.  

“Need to come, can I? Please m’gonna— ” she says, almost in a trance; already so wound up. And the way he’s practically torturing her achy button with his mouth isn’t really helping.  

After he’s hummed his agreement, she’s not able to hold it in any longer— his tongue poking at her opening when the knot in her belly unfolds. She’s shaking, thighs yearning to close, if not for his strong arms holding them open as he groans around her, seemingly lost in a daze with her taste and smell practically suffocating him.  

Since he knows how insatiable she tends to be, he refuses to pull away from between her thighs. And two more orgasms later, she’s a whimpering muddle; desperately trying to drag her hips away from his unrelenting hold. However, he’s entirely too strong and she doesn’t stand a chance. 

“Ray, s’too much, need a break—” she complains, eyes beginning to turn watery in response to the overwhelming pressure.  

However, despite her protests, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he begins to mess with her entirely too sensitive clit with his fingers now— pressing and pulling and making her whine as tears trickle down her cheeks and she tries to fruitlessly wiggle away from him once more.    

“Nah, you’re good, dad wants you to give him a few more, think you can do that?” he mumbles against her sticky folds, stuffing the tip of his tongue into her weepy hole as an effort to persuade her.  

“I don’t know if I can—”  

“Shh, jus’ wanna make you feel nice, you don’t want me to?” he feigns hurt when he lifts up his head, beginning to mouth over the soft skin of her inner thighs to pacify her; his slight stubble tickling her in the process and making her twitch.  

“No, I do, I do…”   

“Then quit whinin’ and let me take care of you, hm? Show you how much I love you,” he coaxes her to give in. And when he puts it like that, she thinks it does sound rather romantic. 

[inknopewetrust]

𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

When the Emperor summons you, you always answer the call. [Emperor Geta x Fem!Reader] [wc: 3.38k]

Warnings: minors DNI, smut, 18+, slight exhibition kink, pinv sex, unprotected sex (this is Ancient Rome, whores), Geta be a little submissive and possessive, corruption, dirty talk. I do not take responsibility for satan causing me to write this.

When you were summoned to the coliseum after dark, there was no questioning what be the cause.

The corridors of the great arena were near silent; distant growls and scratching claws filled its catacombs with a crawling anticipation: when the Emperor called, world at his feet quieted to hear his presence. Feeling the sands of the stage shift and meet the seats of the empty audience, there was nothing but the moonlight and wind to greet you.

You were not alone in Rome’s greatest achievement. The ghosts of the gladiators watched over the wicked as they fed off the suffering of the poor.

But when the guard left you to your devices upon the imperial seat looking over the arena, you forgot the evil that took over the man who called.

“It is quite the sight, no?”

In the silence of the amphitheater Geta’s words were quiet yet threatened to bounce off in echos. You ran your hands over the marble ledge. It’s once smooth nature lifting in bumps every inch of the glide your hand made. A gust of wind fluttered the fabric of your chiton to dance around your legs.

Geta dismissed his most loyal guard at the sight of you.

“It is different in the light,” you answered. The sand below you was not stained of blood and there was no chanting of what the Gods would decide of fate. “Peaceful… if I dare say.”

“If you were not to speak freely I would not have let my men go.”

“So there is no fear to be had here?” You turned your head over your shoulder. Barely capturing him in your vision, Emperor Geta leaned against his brother’s seat. The edge of the stone resting his body as his eyes traced you against the backdrop of his arena.

“There is no one to fear, my lady,” he spoke.

Emperor Geta was a man you had known for a long while. As children he often sought you out as a companion of play while his father helped prime himself and his brother, Caracalla, for their ascent to the throne. You, on the outskirts of royalty within a wealthy family of semi-relevant status to the Caesar, were allowed in their court as a potential wife.

The status of wife never came but it did not stop Geta from perusing you into adulthood.

It was on nights like these when the clouds floated to cover the moon and the poor laid soundly on the gravel on the outset of the building that Geta felt a need to see you, to have you for himself before the reality of morning came tumbling upon him. Weakened by his thoughts of want and bruised from a victory turned sour, his eyes shimmered in the darkness while the necessity grew.

But you knew the intent.

The one guard, never different from the last, summoning you from your villa with a coded message of: vi et animo, with heart and soul. Descend upon the place where he shall be waiting and when the act is done, as always, the same guard would see you home and little would be said between the next occasion. An invitation to sit behind him at a fight always went unanswered; the feasts in a Senator’s name would go uneaten.

You always had something to fear when a man, whom you had grown to be so utterly conflicted in lust and hatred, reigned unfairness from his palace on top a hill. The shining city of Rome was not what it once was but Geta cared for nothing except what he wanted.

And while you never accepted the invitations beyond these, the jewels around your neck, the ones that hung from your ears, and the pulsing of your heart spoke wonders for the truth within you.

Geta watched as your head turned back around and your hands curled over the balcony’s edge. His fingers rapped against the back of the chair; rings clashing against the golden adornments at the bristle of your objection.

“What summons me here?” You prompted. “Are the others not enough for you? Do they not fill your cup on nights as brutal as these?”

You were not to call the women he sought whores. They made their choices, or, they had none, but their actions did not relegate themselves to lesser. How were you any better than them? With your gold and your home and your money? You believed yourself, on the worst of nights, to be a wealthier version of what they had been subject to but unlike many of them, you let this linger beyond the reasonable time.

“I wish to think you know better than to question the call of your Emperor. You showed, after all.”

“I do not question your wants… what keeps you ticking,” you turned to rest your back away from the arena. Geta admired the wrap of your gown tightening against the stone. “You should be celebrating the conquering. Rome has just expanded. There is a celebration at the palace and yet you are here amongst the prisoners and the animals.”

“And you,” he looked pointedly.

Geta’s makeup was gone from the day. He wore a tunic of red and white with the golden laurels weaved in its fabric. The orange of his hair had gone muted in the dark.

“And me,” you agreed. “You have me here, Caesar—“

“Geta.”

You eyed him.

“Why are you playing a game tonight? You denied my invitation—“

“It is not my place,” you cut in. “I am no wife, I am not a… woman of a man’s delight. I did not wish to be an object on an arm.”

“I could have your head for such an implication,” he warned.

“You wouldn’t,” you affirmed. “No one else would be dragged here to kneel before you so willingly.”

“You want to be on your knees?”

You shook your head at him with a tick. No one would dare to speak to him like you. But you knew it bothered him in ways he couldn’t manifest. The blood rushing through his body—you challenged him in a way only he would allow you.

Geta removed his arm from the back of the seat and stepped down to you. Each step closer and closer until he came to rest directly in front of you and caged you like the animals below. Arms expanding on either side of you; his breath invading your space as his nose nicked yours. You shuddered; back piercing into the travertine not in fear but anticipation.

To be the lover of a corrupted Emperor… you had him in the palm of your hand.

“You speak so freely,” he hissed. “And yet you tremble in my presence.”

In an instant, your breathing had gone staggered. His hands drew into you. Feeling up the sides of your body as he pushed himself on you.

“The tremble is not you. It’s me.”

“I am the only one to make you feel this way, yes?”

His hands roamed freely. Geta’s thumbs rumbled up the fabric of the front of your body while his fingertips hardened against you. The plushness of your skin was melting to him. His nose tipped against your chin to turn your head upwards.

“Your Emperor asked you a question.”

“If I said no,” you breathed in as his fingers groped harder. They cupped your breasts from above and back down again. “What would become of me?”

“I’d lock you away,” he wouldn’t. “I’d see to you myself in the cells below the palace. You’d wear nothing,” you scoffed and his lip quirked up. You could feel his lips change against the column of your neck. “And when people would ask of you, they would not be allowed to see you.”

“So you would not want them to see us like this?”

He let out a low, bemused chuckle. “This is for me, us, to enjoy. But if you imagine the whole of Rome watching us, then please, my dear, listen to them.”

Geta rose his lips to your ear as his hands fell to your hips and then one of your legs. He maneuvered to grip the back of one of your thighs and opened up space for him to fall further into you. You could feel his excitement; the prodding of his want against your clothed self. His hot breath and lips danced across your cheek.

“Can you hear them? Gasping at the sight of you. It is the most beauty they have ever seen. So wet and glistening for their ruler.”

“And what of their Emperor?” Your hand came to clutch the extra fabric of his chest. His heart under your hand was picking up in paces. Beating against his ribcage while his eyes blew lustful.

“They should see their Emperor on his throne,” you commanded.

He dropped your leg and with a push from your hand on his chest, Geta stepped backwards until you pushed him to meet his throne. The seat wide for his liking, he sat upon it and grasped at the loose fabric of your dress at your hips.

“Further.” He pushed himself further back into the seat. Using the small step at the base of Geta’s seat, you lifted yourself onto him with your knees on either side.

“While he’s on his throne,” you let him pool the fabric into his hands and draw it upwards. You sat atop him and relished the way you could feel him grown underneath. “They shall see his weakness.”

“I do not have a weakness,” he growled, one hand clasping the back of your neck and forcing your face an inch from his own. You rolled your hips on him. His fingers adjusted the grip on the back of your neck and he hesitated. “I-I do not have a weakness.”

“Then what am I here for?” You asked against his lips and through his hesitancy, he gazed into your eyes before capturing his lips with yours. You sucked in a breath; cupping his head with both of your hands in strength.

Your fingers raked through his hair with a tug as his lips refused to separate themselves form yours. So desperate in want, he clutched himself on to you and your tongues melted together as one the longer he held you. One of his hands pulled on your dress and moved you forward, then tugging backwards to encourage you to grind above him. You needn’t a command to roll your body onto his.

Where your core rested on him, his erection formed against his tunic. You lined up, dragging yourself along the length of him and back. He pulled his lips away with a tug on your bottom lip. Geta bunched up your dress and watched as your cunt glided as best it could along his clothes. Each thrust painting the fabric a shade deeper he could see even in the night.

He was mesmerized. Entranced by your body—no different than the times he had taken you in the light or dusk of a day. You pussy glistened in the moonlight. Dripping with ecstasy as you only felt the outline of his cock above the thin piece that separated you.

Geta, annoyed the the amount of fabric that was your gown and released it roughly.

“Take it off,” he ordered. You huffed, unfurling it from the ties in on the side and letting it fall to the step below. Fully nude on his throne, his hands groped your ass to kiss you again.

“What of you?”

Geta simply pulled up the tunic on his chest and his cock sprung up in response. “You should know conscience now.”

“Us women do not see the same pleasures,” you meant in the form of clothing being simply. Geta quirked his head to the side and leaned it back against his seat.

He sat an awkward angle but was semi-sitting up with you on top of him. You lifted on your knees and palmed at his member with purpose. Remembering the lines and curve like the stones outside of your home, you pumped him as a grunt left his throat.

“I see that you do.”

“Not that anyone would know,” you snided.

Again, he furrowed his brows. “Do you want people to see? All of Rome to see what a woman of your stature does to me?”

“They don’t need to see, Geta,” you sighed and moved up on him. “If you wish to take a wife, that is already implied.”

“You are far too beautiful to be a wife. You are a goddess.”

“Who can only be sought in darkness.”

“That is when you come alive,” his eyes closed at the feel of his tip at the entrance of you. Moving back and forth along your slit while the wetness gathered to make his intrusion easier. The pull of your walls making room for him as you sunk down to take him whole; the claw of your fingernails into his chest at the sensation.

Your knees dug into the harshness of the chair as its girth, and his own, sent you ascending. Your back arched as his fingertips drove goosebumps along your spine. You started grinding on his cock slowly. Clit rubbing against his pubic bone, gently caressing your most sensitive bit as he gripped your hips tightly. You looked down at him prompting his stare to reach through you. It grabbed your soul and reminded you of all the reasons you kept answering his call.

Geta filled you completely. The stretch of him long and wide, your hands fell back to his knees and propelled you as you bounced on him the best your body could. He trusted up to you as the matched inside of you both struck hot and heavy. The burn of your body, the pulse of heat between your legs grew while the slick of your arousal coated his dick every time you sunk back down.

His hands bruised. They tightly gripped you as though you would slip away into the darkness should he let go. He needed to feel you in more ways than one. The digging of your nails into his skin transposed by the burn of his palms on your waist, hips, thighs, and wherever else they could touch.

“Look at you,” he praised breathlessly. “A God to a King.”

A Venus of Rome.

“My Venus,” Geta cut between his teeth. “Mine.”

His own pace superseded your own. Geta’s hips snapped up, racing a high that hit him like Cupid’s own bow straight to the heart. His pace was parading his strength he did not often show beyond words and measures. Your hands failed you on his knees and forced you forward.

Geta grabbed at your jawline, hand crushing your chin.

“You are mine,” he repeated. “No other man shall have you—as a wife nor lover.”

Your silence maddened him. He was relentless in his mission to send you to the edge. You could barely catch your breath and your chest, naked as the day you were born, rose and fell rapidly as the faint sheen of sweat washed over you.

“Do you understand me?” Geta stopped his movements and your shoulder jolted uncontrollably. He was the only one who had ever sent your body’s muscles into overdrive.

“Yes,” you nodded with his hand still grasping your jaw. “Yes, Geta.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between your own. You were truthful even if you hated him some days.

“Good,” he agreed with his own nod. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around,” Geta ordered again. “Your Emperor commands you.”

He released your jaw dismissively and let his hands fall beside his legs. You lifted yourself from him with a shiver and maneuvered yourself front facing. The arena before you, the empty spectator seats still viewing you freely in coitus. Geta’s hands roamed over your ass and up your back as you turned. He grasped himself at the base of his cock and lined up his head to you again.

“Come down,” he commanded.

You joined together as one again and you were quick to realize you had no bearings. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to support you except what little resistance your knees could gather against the harsh seat.

As though Geta could read your mind, he drew you back. He leaned you all the way against him to where you were nearly laying as though on a bed yet still angled as though lounging on a chaise. The new angle pushed his cock to the sweetest pull, pushing against your plush walls and letting a gasp escape you in turn. Geta smoothed the sides of your body while your feet turned under you and you let your weight lay on him.

He ran over your breasts slowly. Nipples long pebbled, he squeezed the flesh and brought them up before releasing them again. Geta brought his head to incline into yours as he thrusted into you once more.

“I see their jealousy. All of them—“ the non-existent spectators “—wanting to fuck a woman like you. If they saw an Empress so bare, so exposed, what would they do?”

Geta’s tone had become selfish. His pace returned to an unrelenting finish. He pounded into you. Each snap hitting your most pleasured spot perfectly as his hands cradled you and his words filled your mind with him.

“How would they feel seeing their Emperor defile the most exquisite creature that has ever graced Rome?”

“They would all wish to be you,” you admitted. His words of praise hit you as hard as his cock. Your head tossed back onto his shoulder.

“Open your eyes, darling. Head up.”

You did as commanded—like any good subject would do.

“This will be yours,” he guided one of your hands into his and brought them both to your bud as the other wrapped around your waist. With his finger atop yours, he helped circle your clit as his end was near.

“This land, Rome, can be ours. Just ours.”

That was, if he would ever be given permission to marry and the match was fixed.

“Gladiators in your name, fighting to see your beauty. Feasts and splendor for the sake of our children…”

The familiar heat in your core began to bubble like the markings of a volcano. You turned your head to his and kissed him deeply at the thought, rubbing your clit furiously with the help of his hand and relishing the way his cock completed your body.

“I will marry you,” Geta reaffirmed as his words caught every second his hips threatened to stutter at his release. “I will marry you I swear to the Gods if it is the last thing I do.”

Maybe you believed him, maybe you did not. Yet you would feel nothing but him and only him and everything he gave you in that moment. The utter devotion and the most raw form of his propensity.

If the night were not already fallen, you saw the waves of Heaven wash over you as the eruption of your orgasm shakes you to the core. The blinding hues of what Venus had brought upon you leaving you gasping for breath. Thoughtless and wordless of promises that carry on with the shaking of your thighs and soft whispers of marriage from his lips. Geta’s own release was missed by you. Mere seconds after your own, he stilled as his hips stuttered into you and the legacy of his spent began to leak beyond where he filled you.

Geta released his hand from your own and rubbed your arms soothingly as you laid heavier on him than before. The wear of your brilliance forging his content sighs. He closed his eyes as your head knocked into his own and the two of you sat there, in the empty arena, alone as one.

“I swear to the Gods,” he assured once more. “I will make you my wife.”

And if the Gods were fair, you would know it to be true. But they have never been fair in the life you knew. So, how could they be true now?

A/N: couldn’t help writing for Geta. The men of gladiator have me in a chokehold. Thanks for reading and while it isn’t required, reblogs and comments help writers the most! ♥️ [not proof read yet]

[lovebugism]

i adoreeee your sm!! would you write eddie x cheerleader!reader where they have their first time together? in his room in his trailer uwu? hurt/comfort 💕😭 and ofc she’s friends with the hellfire club and sits with them at their tableeee at the cafeteriaaa awwwgshsgsgsg

ty for requesting :D — a summary of the day after your first time with eddie munson (established relationship, brief hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of sex but no real smut | 0.9k)

bug's two year celebration ♡

You enter Hawkins High that morning with a subtle ache between your thighs. A distant panging from within you feel strangely proud of. A soreness that makes you feel brand new.

You spare a brief glance at Eddie from the corner of your eye. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he picked you up that morning (or since he dropped you off the evening before that). Your chest swells with a sparkling feeling. You bow your head to hide your smiling, but you can’t shake the feeling that everyone’s looking at you — that your deepest secrets have somehow made the headlines of the school paper.

“I feel like everyone’s staring,” you admit in a whisper when the two of you pause at your adjoining lockers. Your words are nearly drowned out by the droning of a thousand conversations. Your hands shake with the lock.

“Of course they are,” Eddie scoffs, leaning against the forest green metal (‘cause it’s not like he carries his books around anyway). He grins down at your timid form and shrugs. “Why wouldn’t they be? Look at us.”

He chuckles under his breath and waits for you to laugh with him. You never do. You just duck your head and reach into your locker for a history book, more content to hide within its confines. Eddie burns.

“I— I didn’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about,” he murmurs, more seriously now, as he takes a small step closer to you. 

“No, I know!” you blurt, gaze averted. “I just… I just feel sorta weird.”

“Like… Bad weird?”

“No! It’s— It’s not like that…” You don’t know how to put your swirling feelings into words, so you trail off and regret mentioning anything at all. 

Eddie watches you shut down before him. His chest pinches as he reaches for you.

“Hey… There’s nothing to be worried about, okay?” he coos to you with a wavering, crooked smile. “No one knows shit except the two of us— And trust me, I’m gonna be thinking about it all day—”

His attempts to make you laugh work this time.

You smack his shoulder with a quiet giggle, and he laughs harder at himself.

“I’m serious!” he says, cradling his arm.

“You’re annoying,” you correct, still smiling.

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Eddie croons. “I need something to think about until next time…”

You meet his boyish grin with narrowed eyes. “That is very presumptuous of you, Eddie Munson.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he laughs.

You shrug without a word and shut your locker with a soft clang.

Eddie’s smile fades as you walk away from him. “Wait— What does that mean?” he shouts to you, but receives no answer as you disappear into the bustling crowd.

—————

Alone at the Hellfire cafeteria table, you read silently and wait for the rest of the club to take their seats. Jeff is first, ‘cause his mom always packs his lunch. Dustin and Mike are second, and Eddie is third. Your boy arrives with a sudden kiss to your cheek that startles you for a fleeting moment.

“Missed you,” he mumbles in your ear.

“It’s been three hours,” you laugh.

Eddie follows you when you flinch away from him. “Yeah, tell me about it,” he croons, ducking down to press a kiss to your neck. Until you shove him away, at least, face burning at the blatant PDA in front of the rest of your friends. You turn back to your book and try to ignore their unwavering eyes.

“You guys are gross,” Dustin grumbles through a mouthful of fries.

Eddie slumps down in his seat at the head of the table. His lips curl into a lopsided smirk as he tilts his head. “You’re just jealous, Dusty-Bun.”

“Um, excuse me, but I have Suzie, in case you forgot. And she’s hotter than Pheobe Cates— I have nothing to be jealous of,” Dustin rambles, then flashes you an apologetic glance. “No offense.”

“None taken,” you murmur.

“Oh. Right,” Eddie nods, slow and sarcastic. “You mean your very real, not fake at all girlfriend?”

“She’s real!”

“You guys are acting clingier than usual,” Mike observes in his usual monotone.

Gareth arrives at the table then. His tray clatters as he sits down across from you. “It’s ‘cause they had sex,” he tells the raven-haired boy with a nonchalant shrug.

You freeze, breath catching as your heart drops to your stomach. You turn to Eddie with wide, uncertain eyes. You couldn’t hide your shock if you wanted.

Eddie’s face houses a similar horror. “I didn’t tell him. I swear.”

“You didn’t have to tell me,” Gareth scoffs and takes a too-big bite of his burger. His eyes flit between the two of you as he talks through the wad in his cheek. “I can practically smell it on you guys. You’re like a couple of cats in heat.”

“Well, only one cat would be in heat, so technically…” Dustin trails off at the glare Eddie gives him. “Sorry. Not helping.”

“It’s not a bad thing!” Gareth chuckles at his best friend’s simmering anger, ketchup clinging to the corner of his mouth. He slaps the boy on his leather-clad shoulder and says, “It’s about time you get laid, man— I was starting to worry.”

“Says the virgin,” Eddie quips and steals a fry from his tray.

You swat his other shoulder.

“What?” he winces playfully.

“You were a virgin, too, asshole,” Gareth grumbles.

“Yeah. I remember it like it was yesterday,” Eddie says within a whimsical sigh.

“That’s because it was yesterday, idiot.”

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

[talaok]

Win Again

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x sex worker f!reader

Summary: Marcus has won yet another match, so to reward him, his master has granted him another hour with you.

warning: smut| unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), a whole lot of manhandling, he like uses your body idk how to explain it, multiple orgasms, and once again unnecessary feelings cause im not able to write something where they just fuck for some reason

a/n: i know im two days late but PLEASE read this still. (also) basic things for this guy that i've decided are canon: 1)he has a monster cock, like actually scarily big, 2) he's real fucking strong (hulk typa shit), 3) he's not a big talker (but he is a grunter). I need this man to fuck me more than i need my next breath (real), also i did so much research for this fic and you cant even fucking tell

It wasn't often that you didn't dread going to the barracks.

These were strong, ferocious, and dangerous men, and you were but a meek lamb in comparison.

But today was different, today you were seeing him, him who fit the previous description to a tee, and yet was so different from any man you had ever offered your services to.

And perhaps it was because it never felt like you were ever offering anything, ever since that first night, you had never given anything you hadn't wanted to.

The guards stopped as you arrived at his room and you felt a wave of excitement crawl up your spine the moment they opened the door, waiting for you to enter.

The armored men stepped aside to let you pass, the cobblestones on the ground sounding against your sandals as you made your way inside, looking back at the door just in time to see it being shut close.

It was his breathing you heard first, his heavy breathing coming from where you knew his bed sat on the room's left, and seconds after, the creaks of the wood as he stood up, his feet stalking your way.

You turned to him then, a smile almost making it to your lips as you saw him alive before you once again, granting yourself a second to relish in the fact he still breathed, he was still here.

"You've won again" you spoke softly, your hands slowly finding the string holding your dress together.

He didn't respond. The window behind him caused the moon's soft glow to fall on the stone floor, but not on his beautiful face, that, you had to watch closely to inspect.

A newer cut right above his left eyebrow had appeared, and his right arm was bandaged almost completely, but otherwise, he looked fine.

His eyes remained on yours until you'd undone the dress, until it fell at your feet- then, a low groan rumbled from his chest as he took you in, and took his turn inspecting every inch of your bare figure.

"How do you want m-"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence that he'd picked you up, effortlessly pulling your body up until your legs slung over his shoulders and his face was buried in your cunt.

He hadn't even given you a second to realize what was happening that his tongue was already lapping between your folds, desperately drinking everything your body gave him.

"Oh my g-" you threw your head back, your skull finding the wall behind you being the only reason you realized he'd moved, and you were now caged between him and stone as you forgot how to speak.

The moans you had faked so many times for so many clients were nothing like the ones your mouth was spilling now, these were higher, coarser, feral, and the way you were gripping his hair... there was no way that didn't hurt.

"Y-You only" a whine interrupted your words when you felt his tongue plunge into your hole, when he started fucking you with it just like he would with his cock "You only h-have me for an hour" you breathed, your thighs squeezing tighter around him contradicting the words you were about to speak "d-don't you want me to p-please you?"

His grip on your ass only tightened and his mouth halfheartedly parted from your core to answer you.

"You are"

And just like that, he'd gone back to work. The moment his mouth closed around your clit you knew you were done for, you knew there was no point in fighting what was inevitably going to come, and so you shut your eyes, as he brought you to heaven.

Your moans were getting higher and higher as your back arched to feed more of yourself to him, desperately craving the feel of his touch, of his nouse, of his beard against your thighs, of the lips he so devoutly was using to suck on your most sensitive spot.

"F-fuck- general I-" The fist you had wrapped around his hair tightened as every muscle in your belly did the same "Oh!"

Somehow, through all the chaos, while you were coming all over his face, while your moans reached levels never reached before, the only thing you could feel or hear, besides pure ecstasy of course, were his groans, his groans as he drank up every drop of your juices, as if your orgasm was bringing his as much pleasure as it was to you.

You barely had time to open your eyes that his strong, big hands and even stronger, bigger arms had pulled you down until your legs hugged his waist instead.

You really did weigh nothing for him, and if that wasn't enough to prove it, the next minutes definitely would.

Your heavy breathing was fanning over his mouth as he freed his cock from his pants, but while you were expecting him to kiss you, having been blatantly staring at your mouth since he had any way of seeing it, every thought in your brain turned to dust when with one hard fucking thrust, he drove his cock into you- or the first few inches at least.

You couldn't talk, you could do nothing but throw your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of it, and let him take whatever he wanted to take.

"I'm not a general anymore," he said with another thrust, stretching you out even further, even deeper.

You wanted to laugh at his words. Now? Now he was feeling the need to correct you? When you could barely breathe, let alone think?

But he didn't look interested in hearing a response from you, not when he grabbed your waist, and definitely not when he started moving you up and down on his shaft with just the sheer force of his muscles.

The moans, the lewd moans that crawled up your throat were filthy, even filthier than the sound of how wet, how unbelievably drenched you were as he plunged into you over and over, as he literally used you as a fucktoy, filling you up more and more, until he was finally sat inside you to the very hilt, until his pubic hairs were grazing your skin and the tip of his cock was touching your cervix.

"Oh my god" you whimpered, feeling tears prick your eyes as your toes curled at the feeling.

You could feel him everywhere, everywhere.

But he didn't pause, he wasn't one to take his time, and perhaps that was because he didn't have much; he resumed his movements again, retracting his hips while he pulled you up his cock, and slamming into you while pushing you down on it, leaving you breathless, a simple doll at his mercy.

His groans and growls were deep and filled with lust, just like the way he bent down to take your left tit into his mouth, just like the way he was fucking you, deep and hard, and God- God it was happening again.

"s-shit" you squeaked, your walls squeezing around him as you bit your lip, so fucked out you could barely remember your name or anything at all that wasn't how good he was making you feel.

"O-Oh my fuck-"

The arms you had intertwined behind his neck tightened with every spasm of your hole, with every flutter of your belly, until you'd come once more.

You opened your eyes, letting them trail downwards, to where his lips parted to suck in ragged breaths, begging him for a kiss.

"again" he said instead, and your eyes widened as you felt him starting to move anew

"I-I can't"

He looked at you now, really looked at you, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, and then- then he kissed you. Marcus Acacius kissed you the same way he'd been fucking you for the last hour: like an animal.

It was a mess of teeth and tongues and yet it felt like the best thing on earth, better than wine, better than life, even better than the sex- it was perfect.

"again" he ordered once more, and what could you do, if not comply?

So he started again, he started fucking you again, even more ferociously than the previous time, even if you didn't think it possible.

The way his skin slapped with yours was drowned by both your desperate sounds, your legs started to tremble, beginning to fall from his hips as he moved you up and down his cock like it were nothing, and you- you didn't even know where you were anymore.

"please" you begged, a single tear of pleasure, of overstimulation falling to your cheek as he kissed you again, muting all your cries as he drove himself into you like a madman, like he was possessed.

"Time's up"

Two knocks sounded from the other side of the wall together with the warning, and you thanked Marcus for having rendered you such a mess because otherwise, that would have reminded you of how little time you two ever had, and how miserable everything really was.

His movements sped up at the notice, his dick plunging into you over and over and over until finally, it was happening again.

"give it to me" he said, and you did exactly as he asked- you gave it all to him, screaming and crying you let him have all you had to offer, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

He came loudly just after you, groaning deeply as he filled you up to the very brim.

Out of all the words you could have said to him then, all the things you wanted to tell him at that moment, you chose none, because none would have said anything he didn't already know from the look in your eyes, from the same exact spark in your irises that ignited his own.

So he helped you to the ground until you stood on shaky legs, walked to where your dress lay on the floor, and dressed yourself again, his eyes never leaving you.

The door opened just as you were done, and you turned to him one last time again, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Win again for me, general"

He looked at you too for one last time again, as he thought about how you didn't know, you didn't know how big of a role you played in his victories, how many times he could only think of the taste of you, smell of you, feel and voice of you as he took his opponent's life, as he fought for another hour with you, another second.

"I will" he promised

[joemama-2]

aged up megumi

“you’re drunk.”

megumi’s head lifts up at the sudden sound of your voice. it’s funny how quick the action is too, like your voice immediately pulls his chin up as it speaks. even in a crowded room full of people who he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know, he’ll find your voice. he always finds you. but right now, he’s not in a crowded room.

the night sky is pretty and the breeze causes you to shiver slightly. he should be shivering too considering he’s not even wearing a jacket, but maybe his senses are too wacky to even care. or maybe he’s just too focused on your presence. he’s sitting on some steps to whatever house, a stranger’s that he decided to rest on after his so called ‘friends’ left him there.

yuuji and nobara didn’t actually leave him. they just took his drunk ass out the car, while simultaneously texting you his location. and like the good friend(?) you are, you went. no questions asked. what you didn’t expect was to see megumi shitfaced. that was not on your bingo card.

back to the present, the small flush of his cheeks and hazy eyes make you want to physically coo at the sight. instead, you tilt your hair and raise a suspecting eyebrow at his prolonged silence. you hold back a scoff, usually it’s him being the serious one.

megumi lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “you’re here.”

you sigh. biting your lip for a second as you assess the situation. “i thought you were with yuuji and nobara.”

“i was.”

“then where are they?”

he simply shrugs. “they left. left me here.” he sees your confused expression, muttering—more like mumbling—a continued response. “told me to sit and wait. didn’t know i was waiting for you.”

ah. you’ll remember to scold those two later on. “i didn’t know i was coming to you either.”

there’s a small huff that escapes his pretty lips. “guess we’re both surprised.”

there’s a silence that follows. you want to sigh heavily, why he was drunk in the first place almost concerned you. megumi was always sober, always the DD, what was different about tonight that he decided to change that? never mind, you’re more focused on getting him back to the dorms.

your eyes travel back to him after looking up at the sky during your mental battle, but he’s still looking at you. he hasn’t stopped looking since you came, actually. his staring has always sorta freaked you out, made you feel naked even with clothes on. “thought you were on a date.”

you grimace at the reminder, but quickly push it away. you were on a date, but that’s the last thing you want to think about right now. “i was.” you settle with a vague answer. of course, he’ll pry.

“then why aren’t you there?”

“i left.”

“why?”

“for you, apparently.”

megumi’s heart really shouldn’t be doing somersaults right now. but he can’t help it. he knows it’s wrong, you’re just friends and friends don’t feel this way about each other. he hasn’t told you anything and he probably never will. hell, you probably don’t even feel the same way. and megumi is not going to handle your rejection well, which is why is he’ll forever admire from a distance.

but with each day, that distance seems to be growing smaller and smaller.

“how much did you drink?” your question interrupts him.

he debates on telling you the truth or a lie. but just as much as megumi stares, you observe. so, megumi can never,—no—will never lie to you. “few shots.”

“how many?” you prod, taking a small step closer.

“forgot.”

of course. if he forgot how much he drank, it must’ve been a lot. and megumi drinking is one thing, but him drinking a lot is another. now you’re even more concerned. with a small huff of air, you finally stand in front of him.

his head angled upwards to look at you while yours is down. his fingers twitch to reach out for you, but he somehow is holding back. well, he was holding back. for barely two seconds.

he can blame it on the alcohol later, his actions can have consequences for a future, sober him. right now he’s too focused on the way your fingers feel laced with his own, your smaller hand in his. you’re a little shocked by his boldness, but you don’t pull away.

maybe you should, because now megumi is getting ideas. ideas that you want him just as much as he wants you—

“are you okay?” your soft voice is laced with worry, eyebrows knitted together. your fingers just slightly tighten around his.

and he gulps down the lump in his throat. why he has one in the first place is a mystery to him. for a second, he feels like he can’t speak. when his voice finds him, it sounds different. “yeah.”

by the slurring of his words, you conclude it’s time to take him home. “cmon, let’s get you back.” your face scrunches up as you attempt to lift him up from the stairs. even in dry knees, megumi is helping you out, using as much strength he currently has to bring his body to a standing.

once he’s on his own two feet, you place one of his arms around your shoulders and walk to your car. it’s a small, but silent walk. there’s a bit of a challenge, having to balance him but also open the passenger side door.

“watch your head.” you murmur and he hums back as you place him down into the passenger seat, reaching over to buckle his belt.

your scent invades his nostrils and he suddenly feels the urge to cry. god, he’s never drinking again. once he’s buckled up, you pull back to get a better look at him.

you don’t like seeing him in such a state. a disheveled one. he looks small, vulnerable. the sight alone pulls at your heartstrings. “megumi?”

“hm?” his eyes are half-lidded, but he still finds it in him to meet your own. “i won’t throw up.”

there’s a breathy chuckle from you while you wipe some hair out of his eyes. “i know.”

he leans into your touch. your hand lingers longer than it should, savoring his skin against yours while he wishes this could last forever.

it doesn’t, of course. because you’re soon pulling away, closing the door, and getting into the car yourself.

the drive is once again quiet. you spare him a few glances along the way to make sure he’s still conscious. in the new few minutes, you’re at the school and parked.

you feel like you lost a few calories just from hauling him out the car and back to his dorm. over time, he’s leaned more of his weight on you, but you can’t chastise him for that.

his door is already unlocked as you twist the knob and it’s a great relief when you finally situate him in his bed. you sigh heavily and wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. “i’ll get some water and a trash can, okay?”

“said ‘m not throwin’ up.”

“you don’t know that.”

you grab one of the bottled waters from his mini fridge you gifted him for christmas and the trash from his bathroom, placing it by the bed. “drink.” he groans as you lift his head up and gently coax the water into his mouth. once done, he’s laying back down.

sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him, you finally ask the burning question. “what happened tonight?”

he’s hesitating, you can tell. but of course, megumi can’t lie to you. so he looks at you again, deciding that maybe it’s okay if he comes clean. if this ruins your friendship, he’ll always be grateful for what you showed him. “you.”

your brows furrow. “what?”

he sighs. “you. where you were tonight.”

oh, it’s starting to click. “you mean my da—“

“don’t even say the word.” his hand soothes the pinch of his eyebrows. “it’ll make me sick.”

now, you want to laugh. really laugh. but you’ll hold back for now. “i thought you weren’t gonna be sick?”

“i am if i have to think about you and another guy.”

“he was a nobody.” your lips purse, confused as to why you’re even reassuring him in the first place.

“keep it that way.” his hand pulls away to give you a firm look. well, as firm as a drunk person could give.

strange butterflies flutter in your stomach and now you might be sick. “..why?”

there’s another pause before he says with finality. “cause…you have me.”

you have him. in what way? you want to ask, but he’s drunk and this is…more than likely a conversation you should be having when both parties are sober. so, you opt for a soft sigh. “i have you?”

“and i have you.” megumi murmurs back, his beautiful lashes beginning to flutter as the signs of exhaustion take over.

you smile, and so does he. although, it’s not as obvious as yours, you’re observant. so that smile means everything to you. he means everything to you. which is why…..

“go to sleep.” you whisper, bringing the covers up to his chin. “we’ll talk in the morning.”

[issues4him]

Rafe forgets his lunch at work and it puts him in such a bad mood. Until you show up to his job 😏 all by yourself😏 and he goes and 😏eats his lunch😏 in his truck

blue collar!rafe forgets his lunch at home…good thing you stopped by to give it to him! :)

cw: smut, 18+, f receiving oral, semi-public

it was just before noon when rafe realized. he stood near the edge of the construction site, sun blazing overhead, hands braced on his hips, sweat dripping down the back of his neck—when it hit him like a brick to the gut. he forgot his lunch.

the one you packed. the one you left him a little note in. the one he could’ve sworn he grabbed on his way out the door this morning, right after he kissed your sleepy face and whispered “love you, baby.” he stood there, blinking, jaw tightening. his mood soured instantly. he didn’t want to eat with the guys. didn’t want some gas station sandwich. didn’t want to hear ron talk about fantasy football or tyler blab about how sexy the girl he saw at the gas station was this morning. he wanted your food. your note. your hands packing it with love. you.

by the time noon rolled around, he was hunched on the back bumper of the side loader, wiping sweat from his brow and already snapping at anyone who dared speak to him. so when his phone buzzed and he saw a text from you—“brought you something. i’m outside.” his heart damn near stopped.

he stood up fast, walking around the side of the building toward the gravel lot, and there you were. leaning against your car, sunglasses perched on your nose, holding his lunch box in one hand and a to-go drink in the other. but it wasn’t just that. you were dressed in that little tank top he loved. the one that clung to you just right and barely touched the waistband of your shorts—shorts that were frayed and faded and showed just enough thigh to make his brain shut down. you smiled innocently, like you had no idea what you were doing to him.

rafe stalked across the lot, grabbing the lunch box with one hand and pulling you in by the waist with the other, whispering hot against your ear, “you tryin’ to get me fired, baby?”

you grinned. “you forgot your lunch.”

he looked at you, heat thick in his gaze, thumb brushing along the bare skin just above your waistband. “no, i didn’t. you’re standin’ right in front of me.”

before you could even sass back, he took your hand, walked you over to his truck, opened the passenger door and helped you in like a gentleman—if gentlemen had filthy things on their minds.

he climbed in on the drivers side, setting the lunch box on the dashboard without so much as looking at it. the second the door shut, he leaned over, bracing one hand on the headrest behind you, the other gripping your thigh. his eyes dropped to your lips. then lower. then lower.

“you wore this on purpose,” he growled, voice low and strained.

you tilted your head, all sweet. “no, i wore it ‘cause it’s hot out.”

he smirked., his voice just above a whisper. “sure you did.”

his hand slid higher between your thighs, pushing them open as he leaned in and kissed you—slow, rough and starving. his other hand yanked your tank top up, revealing soft skin he was already trailing his mouth over.

“you know how hard it is not thinkin’ about you while i’m workin’?” he murmured against your chest. “and then you show up like this? expect me to eat a sandwich?”

you giggled, breath shaky. “well, what do you wanna eat instead?”

rafe didn’t answer. he leaned in again—close enough that his nose brushed yours.

“my fuckin’ wife.”

his eyes were locked on your mouth, pupils blown wide, and his lips hovered just above yours, like he was debating whether to ruin your whole day right then and there his right hand, slow and steady, slipped across your lap. his fingers grazed your bare thigh, warm and rough and greedy, before sliding between the seat and door. he reached down, eyes never leaving yours, and you barely registered what he was doing until the passenger seat jolted backwards, suddenly reclined all the way. your back hit the cushions, eyes wide as he smirked, that cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“gotta make room,” he said, voice low and smooth.

his hands moved fast—fingers already hooked in the waistband of your tiny shorts. you let out a little gasp of surprise, hands catching his biceps, but he didn’t stop—not even a little. with a quick tug, he pulled the shorts and panties down your legs in one fluid motion. rough, practiced, and hungry. like he’d been waiting all day to unwrap you. and maybe he had.

“i don’t got as much time as i wish i did, baby. gotta make this one quick.” he muttered before dipping his head down, tongue immediately lapping at your spread pussy. his tongue flickered over your clit, sucking slightly at all the right moments.

you clawed at his brunette hair, legs spreading wider as instinct. “mm…feels good…” you moaned breathlessly, gasping as he brought his ring and middle finger up to your hole, sliding them in with ease.

he groaned against your pussy, tongue working miracles on you, fingers adding to the pleasure. his right hand squeezed your tit, rolling you sensitive nipple lightly between his fingers. “best lunch i coulda’ asked for, baby.” he grinned.

his fingers move in and out, curling perfectly at your sweet spot with every swipe. you’re sure your arousal is leaking into his leather seats. his messy brown hair was pushed back from his forehead from where you were tugging on it, but a few strands clung to his sweaty skin as he licked around your clit like a man starving, eyes half-lidded, lost in the taste of you.

both of his hands were now locked around your thighs, rough palms holding you wide open like you were something precious and breakable, even as his mouth moved like he was trying to ruin you. his tongue worked you in fast, devastating circles, the tip teasing, flicking, pressing until your stomach tensed and your legs trembled. you gasped—high, breathy—your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan into you.

that sound. that low, wrecked sound of him moaning at the taste of you, sent a full-body shiver through your spine. your back arched off the leather seat, “rafe—oh my god—”

he didn’t stop. he didn’t even think about stopping. if anything, he just got deeper. hungrier. his nose nudged your skin, lips gliding slick and sure as he flattened his tongue and dragged it slow, right over that perfect spot again and again until your hips were chasing it, your whole body trembling under the pressure.

“that’s it,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to murmur against you, voice hoarse, lips still brushing your soaked skin. “c’mon, baby. gimme that sweet fuckin’ finish.”

he gave your clit one last hard suck, and that’s when your vision blurred and toes curled. a cry tore from your throat as you shattered, thighs squeezing around his head, body locking up with pleasure so sharp you could barely breathe. he groaned like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted—like your orgasm was his reward.

once you caught your breath, you looked down at him. his lips were red and slick, chin glistening with you, hair pushed back like he’d just come up for air after drowning in you. he ran the back of his hand over his mouth, smirking like he didn’t just nearly break you in broad daylight.

“shit,” he muttered, sitting up in the drivers seat once more. his voice wrecked and hoarse, “better than any damn lunch i’ve ever had.” he leaned over to plant a soft kiss on your lips, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “you alright, baby?” he asked, cocky but soft, dropping a kiss to the corner of your jaw.

you let out a shaky laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “you’re such a menace.”

you glanced out the window, his work buddies were all gathered in their own cars and trucks, eating their lunches. your cheeks reddened as you realized your legs have been in the air for the past 10 minutes.

but—thank god for tinted windows. <3

[reikoknshii]

Perhaps...a Date?

Francis Mosses - Milkman

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊

Its been weeks you've been working for the D.D.D. , you stayed in your work station and do the usual works.

However, those days passed, you got yourself a motivation whenever he check in. Who? The famous milkman of town, Francis Mosses.

What makes him special? Was it his tired eyes? His soft and deep voice whenever he greeted you for checking in? You have no idea..

All you know you were smitten for the exhausted milk delivery man, and you can tell if he is the real one or not. Though there are times you almost let in the doppelganger because on how they almost perfect their form of Francis, either way you never let it in or else you'll be in trouble for cause of death of the apartment residents.

This day he's one of the listed entry resident, perhaps you can have a longer conversation with him?

You inhaled and exhaled as you open the metal window to start your work.

Angus...

Izaack...

Elenois and her Twin Selene..

Where is Francis?

You grew impatient after checking in four people and making sure they're not a doppelganger. Atlas Francis arrived, Tired as usual as he shows his entry request.

Odd...

' Perhaps he's a doppelganger? '

You tapped on the window trying get his attention , when he noticed you questioned where is his Id.

"My Id? My apologies, i forgot to show my Id" He said softly and audible for us to hear from the other glass side of the window.

' looks like everything is in check..wait hold on a minute '

You decide to double check his appearance and his ID, soon enough checking his files and you found the false thing about him.

"I don't remember Francis having a Mole"

"FUCK!" Cursed the doppelganger as he grew angry. This isn't the first time they would be angry, they almost got it perfect but fail because of a small detail.

"I didn't take that into account.

You're not easy to fool.

That makes me want to devour you even more." You shivered as they banged on the protected glass window , you immediately closed the metal cover.

"Can I visit you at night while you sleep? " the doppelganger said from the other side as they continue to hit on the metal cover.

"Yeah no thanks pal, I'd let francis in but not you" you jokingly said and dialed the D.D.D. services.

"Oh? Looks like the stationed guard is hoping for a mutual feeling, ill get you next time.." You immediately regret saying that, especially to a doppelganger, Knowing full well they would use the information they know against you.

You heard the D.D.D. services arrived and waited for it to finish. Soon the cleaning services opened the metal door telling you the 'operation cleaning is done and you may resume your work.'

You felt like a stupid hopeless romantic, now the doppelganger knew you're into Francis and would take that into their account to try getting in.

Soon enough, the real Francis arrived.

He showed both of his ID and Entry request.

ID and expiration date? Good.

Entry Request? Seem Accurate enough.

Appearance? perfect.

Your hands shakes as you checked the list as Francis waited for you to speak.

"Is it all good?" He asked with his usual tired voice as you nodded your head and waited for you to open the door.

"I-" you stammer wanting to say something as Francis stared at you.

"Yes?."

"...i-i well..." You started as you scratch the back of your head. "P-perhaps a date ? Only if you're available" you asked as Francis tired eyes widen abit from your offer.

"..That wouldn't be bad, tomorrow sounds good?" He asked with a slight smile , making your face go red from the overwhelming joy and excitement.

"Y-yes! Please!" You blurt out and realized you look so eager in front of him.

"Alright, mind opening the door for me now?" Francis asked as he carried his ID and work bag , You covered your face embarrassed on how you react to his answer and opened the metal door for him.

"See you Y/n "

[ybklix]

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

★ pairing: neighbor!chan x fem!reader

✦summary: You have a new life, in your dream apartment in the big city, your life is quiet, but suddenly your incredibly handsome neighbor across the door, Chan, decides to take you out of your comfort zone, you can't get him out of your head and you really plan to do something about it.

✭ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, masturbation, dry humping, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie, videotape, cunnilingus, use of nicknames, slight dirty talk, aftercare.

word count: 7.7k

╰ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ masterlist - taglist forms

୧ ‧₊˚request by anon₊ ˚⊹♡

divider by qqmariztwsse

You admired the place, happy, the movers did all their work, now you only had to unpack and arrange your new apartment, you had been dreaming of moving to a bigger and different city for a year now, you talked to your parents and siblings just for emotional support, and there they all were now. Your mother, your sister and brother, who were going to spend the first night with you.

The four of them decided to walk around the city for a while, eating and enjoying all the scenery and endless places you could just walk and walk to. You arrived late and exhausted to your new apartment, where only your sister wanted to stay one more night, your mother and brother had to go back to your hometown, where they all still lived, where you previously lived already alone as well.

“I'm going to be fine” you said to your mother as you felt her hug you tighter as you said goodbye, her big breasts crushing yours.

“Oh I know dear but now I have to catch a flight to see you, I'm not used to it” your mother said, in a high pitched tone as she pulled away from you.

No matter what, you would always be her baby, you were the youngest among your siblings, of which you had a very cute and close relationship with. You were always a bit overprotected being the youngest, you openly talk about things that cause you anxiety and you are a bit sensitive although you never express it as such, you like to make jokes and be sarcastic about it, you have a personality… quiet and quite relatable to others, that's why you create content videos on Youtube, mainly there you started, but you are in all your social media and you are something like a microcelebrity. That's why you could afford to live in the city of your dreams, in the apartment of your dreams and you were grateful.

Your mother and brother left, boarding that plane and you and your sister returned to your apartment where she kindly helped you unpack.

“I'll go check to see if I have my own mail space yet” you notified your sister, to which she shouted from afar okaaay.

And you walked out of your apartment, where as you crossed the hallway to the front, you found a male silhouette about to enter his apartment, for some reason you stopped a little to see him, wearing a suit with his jacket in his hand and his white button up shirt rolled up in his strong arms, he was handsome, you thought. He turned to see you too, smiled at you realizing you were his new neighbor and whispered kindly:

“Hi.”

His voice was thick and attractive, his appearance masculine, you suddenly felt in some type of way….

“Hi” you replied kindly smiling.

And before he could say anything else, you hurried your step to the end of the corridor, leaving. You didn't know how to react, you didn't expect to find a handsome man in front of your door while you were messily unpacking your entire apartment. He let out a chuckle when he saw your reaction but you didn't hear it.

[…]

“Agh, Y/N, I forgot my cell phone on the counter,” your sister said, already in the hallway, with her things ready to grab the cab downstairs to accompany her to the airport.

You rolled your eyes, looking for her phone but it wasn't where she had indicated, you got frustrated, the cab was waiting for you, and angrily said to her,

“Where is it? It's not here!”

But you received no answer, your sister ran into your neighbor across the hall, who was about to go out to do some shopping, she instantly smiled at him seeing that he was also handsome and your neighbor was as enchanted with your sister as he was with you. You on the other hand went to the bathroom, where your sister had previously been, finding her phone.

“We have to go now…” you said, locking your apartment and you were perplexed to see your handsome neighbor again.

He smiled downward at you, pressing his lips together, he had to admit that you were both pretty, but there was something about you that caught his attention more.

“He tells me you haven't introduced yourself” your sister spoke, looking down at the broad shouldered build of your neighbor and then back up at you.

“Well, I also just arrived recently for work. I'm Bang Chan, your neighbor” he let out a nervous chuckle, causing you to shiver, a good shiver.

You stared at him and greeted him with waving your hand, telling him your name followed by, nice to meet you.

“I think, you were about to leave so, I see you around” he said again.

You nodded and left with your sister, who was dying to talk and didn't until you got in the cab.

“Oh my god, he's really hot, you should go after him, if he doesn't have a girlfriend of course” your sister commented animatedly.

“Stop saying bullshit please” you replied, unwilling to continue the conversation.

The point was… you had never dated before, you were too picky and your love life was non-existent, but you liked being that way, staying at home with your cats, you even made money from complaining about how there is no one to get your attention, expressing it in your videos where thousands of girls around the world found you so real for speaking your truth. You just made your silly little vlog videos or anything creative you could think of, at the moment you were working on filming your move.

Your sister left, you stayed around the city until it got dark and you returned to your new home, you had to feed your cats and clean their litter, but to your surprise, you once again found Chan taking the elevator at the same time. He smiled tenderly at you as you both were about to press the button, he let you do it and you waited, until you both got in alone.

“I guess we're always going to bump into each other now” he said again with his typical soft chuckle.

“Yeah, well, same building, same floor” you said nervously, really with zero idea what to say.

“Did you move into the building or in the city in general?” he asked, so curious to hear from you.

“From the city” you answered, looking straight ahead and only occasionally glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

The elevator doors opened, he let you out first and you stepped into your hallway.

“Well, if you need someone to show you around the city or help in any address, you know I'm in front of your door” he said, sweetly but something about his voice sounded so inviting, the way he spoke and that the vein in his neck stood out a little.

“Thank you” you told him shyly and walked into your apartment.

You couldn't help but smile… after so long you thought to yourself if, a crush, a fling of whatever with your hot neighbor would be worth it.

[…]

All the rest of the night you unpacked everything, almost finishing your apartment, you were tired but it was a nice spring day that you didn't decide to waste, so you went out to walk for a while, feel the sun on your skin, and feel again the minimal realization that there is a civilization outside, since last night you haven't stopped thinking about Chan, you even imagined how his apartment would be decorated by the way he was dressed, simple and in black. You imagined so many things, even his age, what zodiac sign he might be, everything. You hadn't felt this way about someone in a long time.

And, still in his apartment, Chan's younger sister put him in charge of taking care of the family dog, since no one would be home and she took advantage of the fact that her brother would be staying in the city for his job, so she left her with him. Chan greeted and petted the dog with affection and wanted to take her for a walk.

You arrived at the park near the block from the building and craved an ice cream, you felt the presence of more people but didn't take any notice, until when you asked, a familiar voice appeared behind you, sounding so sonorous that it rumbled your insides.

“Make it two, please” said that voice, you turned to see him.

It was Chan, you smiled at him, his skin glowed brighter as he wore all black and you noticed he had a cute dog on a leash, you honestly thought you saw it coming, he looked like an energetic guy who liked dogs more, you enjoyed the company of cats more, but you forgave him anything.

You quickly confirmed to the guy that it would be two ice creams so that he would take Chan's order as well. And, as he handed over the ice creams, he hurried to say.

“Can you hold them please, I'll pay” he said quickly, extending the money to the employee.

You couldn't even deny it when the clerk was already ready to give him the change when Chan said again, “Leave it like that, thank you.”

You walked a few steps from the ice cream cart, narrowing your eyes because you were bothered by the sun, still watching him, licked from your ice cream before it melted and said in a happy tone, “Thank you.”

“Oh it's nothing, it's just ice cream.”

“We meet again” you repeated amused, this time more relaxed and less shy.

“Yeah, well, same park near the building” he said, with a smile responding the same way you did last night.

You smiled back at him as you continued eating from your ice cream, as sweet, soft and refreshing as Chan's unexpected arrival, he looked like a cute guy.

“You have a dog?” you said to him, this time cooperating so that he picked up on the signals that you wanted to talk to him.

He looked at Berry, his little dog.

“Ahh yes, she's Berry, she's family, she doesn't live in my apartment but my sister let me borrow her to take care of her today.”

Uh, he has a sister, must be nice guy, you thought.

“I have two cats” you blurted out suddenly, blushing as you felt his gaze after he's seen the dog, “Their names are Edward and Lorelai. Berry is, a very cute dog” you said again, nervous.

You bent down to stroke his soft dog's fur with your free hand and stood up again.

Chan laughed, watching you, finding you incredibly adorable and began to walk slowly as you followed, “Edward and Lorelai?” asked Chan with a smile at hearing such names for cats.

“For Edward Cullen from Twilight and Lorelai Gilmore from The Gilmore Girls” you added, quickly and obviously, but you were a little shaken, you hadn't had an encounter with a cute boy in years.

Chan looked at you with admiration and amusement. You felt like you were in a movie walking with the attractive man in the park who bought you ice cream. Chan didn't take his eyes off you and without stopping laughing, and to have all those references, he thought you must have been young, you looked young, but living on your own in the city? Chan didn't know what it was exactly but he wanted to know more about you, he liked you since he first saw you, you looked just like today, a sunny, but not oppressive sun, spring day, with the green trees and the birds singing.

“I like cats too,” he replied, “But because of my work I travel a lot and it's hard for me to leave them home alone.”

“What do you do for a living…?” you asked without trying to be so obvious as you sat down on an available bench.

“I'm a stylist and creative director” he replied.

At this point you were so nervous you were about to finish your ice cream. You decided to play with him a little, to lighten the mood.

“Stylist in that outfit?” you joked.

Chan laughed genuinely at your comment, he looked and dressed so normal, all in black with a cap and sneakers and called it a day. You could notice his curls under his cap.

“You might be surprised how well I dress people.”

“Mmm who have you dressed?” you asked amused only to continue the conversation.

“It's usually celebrities, and occasionally rich people, I've worked for Jungkook, T-…”

You gasped in surprise which stopped Chan in his tracks.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to react like that, it's just, I don't believe you, you're fucking with me, right?”

Chan raised an eyebrow at your comment in such confidence, without wiping off his smile, his cheeks hurt from being with you so much.

“Are you a fan of his?”

“Oh no, just, everyone knows how great he is.”

“Well it's true...” he answered and you saw him go to his cell phone deftly looking for something.

He handed it to you, pictures of him sizing up the celebrity he had just mentioned and putting a jacket over him as proof, you opened your mouths in surprise that you are meeting a man who has direct contact with celebrities. You handed him back his phone.

“I work for specific brands or clients, that's why I travel, I work for Jennie Kim, Troye Sivan, that kid that's everywhere mmm, Olivia Rodrigo, Timothe Ch…”

Your heart stopped and your smile faded for a moment as he called Olivia Rodrigo a kid, you were pretty sure you were pretty close to her age… you wondered how old he could be. You also thought that looking like that, there was no way he wasn't dating a celebrity.

“Okay I got it, now you're just bragging” you replied amused to which he loved the way you teased him, “I think it's great” you said happily, “And also as a creative director?”

“Yes, I direct videos, I give concepts to artists, I usually work a lot for the K-pop world, that's why I'm hardly ever home.”

You looked at him closely, you were excited to meet an art-oriented person who was expert and passionate about what he does, someone intellectual who stimulated your inner self.

“If you dressed Jungkook, what the hell are you doing living in that apartment? I assume you can get something better” you joked again never to end the conversation.

You had already finished your ice cream and your hands were restless not knowing where to settle. Chan laughed again, showing his peculiar dimples, he kept laughing with you close by.

“I've lived in the building for a while now, it's cozy and a very nice place, isn't it?”

You nodded, “It's a nice place…”

“Besides…” he began to say apologetically, tilting his head a little and showing a full smile “it's a magical place full of surprises, just like your new arrival.”

You looked into his eyes and admired every part of him, unable to think that he had said your arrival was a magical surprise. Chan had already finished his ice cream, but he thought there was nothing sweeter that left his mouth like meeting you on a nice sunny day.

“So… you'll be staying here in the city?” you added curiously, since he mentioned he was hardly home, worrying you.

“Yes, at the moment I'm here working from home, I just came back from a business trip; but as soon as my client calls me, I have to go wherever they are” you saw him a little disappointed, promptly thinking that he constantly has to leave, until he spoke bringing you out of your trance, “And you… what do you do for a living?” he asked softly and incredibly attentive to what you had to say.

Your smile faded a little… it wasn't something you said out loud, you felt a little embarrassed but more so when he had a cool job and you… made videos for the internet.

“I make videos…” you said unsurely.

He raised his eyebrow, scared deep down that they weren't adult types of videos, he had nothing against it, but as someone as pretty and young as you, he couldn't help but feel disappointed if that's what it is, since he currently found himself so many girls making money from it.

“You edit videos?” he asked, somewhat alerted.

“Yes that too, well… I'm a YouTuber, not something I'd say proudly after hearing your amazing work history, but I also paint and sell my paintings and, I'm simply inclined to art, but for a living, videos on the internet. I'm also inclined to acting, I currently take online classes but since I'm in the city I really want to try my hand at an academy; you know everyone who thinks they're celebrities these days wants to put out music but I seriously think it's not my forte, I prefer something else” you blurted out suddenly, nervously trying to divert him from the main topic.

Chan laughed tenderly as he carried Berry to put her in the middle of you. He thought you were cute the way you wanted to excuse yourself, and almost sighed in relief that you hadn't been what he maliciously thought.

“That's very good, seriously, you can tell me you're a tiktoker and I'll understand, they make a lot of money nowadays” Chan joked.

You laughed, blushing that maybe it wasn't the kind of woman he was looking for, putting little part of her life on the internet. But you had him completely captivated, he couldn't deny it.

“So what do you do?” he said, you raised your eyebrows, “What do you tape?”

“Mmm little vlogs, things I come up with…”

“And what do you paint?” you looked at him surprised, that among your meaningless chatter, he did pay attention to you.

“Little flower paintings, I don't know, cute things” you laughed.

Cute things like you, wanted to say Chan out loud.

“And how can I find you?”

You widened your eyes in panic, but still told him sweetly, “Literally my name, just like that, I hope I show up.”

Chan stared at you for a while, so happy to have some time to relax.

“I'd love to direct a video, give you some ideas” Chan spoke slowly and seductively, not knowing what he was saying clearly, he just knew he was suddenly lost on you.

“I'd love to share your ideas…” you replied in the same way.

“I'd also love for us to go somewhere else but… I'm taking care of Berry” he mentioned, caressing her, you saw his big, masculine hands, surprising you a little, “Would you like to… have dinner at my place?”

You wanted to open your mouth in surprise, for the first time you would be going alone to a man's apartment, but you just nodded softly.

“You cook?” you asked, Chan nodded, “I also love to cook and bake” you said proudly.

He looked at you tenderly.

[…]

The evening progressed with more talk with Chan, getting to know him more and more, and of a delicious dinner he prepared. You were delighted, you were supposed to start shooting more content today but there was nothing better than spending the night in his apartment and, his decor was just as you imagined it, neutral colors, modern design and all tidy, the place smelled good, he smelled good, everything around him looked like a dream.

He came to drop you off at your door, balancing on your heels on the door frame, so close to him and admiring every part of his face, his cute little eyes, his full lips, you felt like you were in your own little rom-com. Chan leaned against your door frame, unwilling to let you go.

“Do you… want to see Edward and Lorelai?” you said nervously to which he nodded softly with a smile.

Chan watched you, you looked so cute to him that he wanted to squeeze your cheeks and shower you with kisses, but he just said yes to every little thing you said.

Your cats were in your cat tree, you let Chan pass by, who slyly watched your whole apartment.

“Orange one is Edward.”

Chan approached your cats, you had a cute Halloween combination, orange and black, who antipathetic and yet alert let themselves be petted, after he spoke to them in a high pitched tone, with tenderness. He came up to you.

“They're very cute, just like you” he said and your cheeks grew warm, you blushed so often with him, you hated it when your body reacted like that, “Do you mind if… tomorrow we go to the park on a picnic or something?”

You frowned, hard to believe what he was saying but you agreed.

“Goodnight, Chan” you said goodbye to him.

Within half an hour Chan had started following you on Instagram where to your surprise you found that he had more than twice as many followers as you and his feed was as sleek and tidy as he was, filled with celebrities he worked for and the occasional photo of him; he for his part was delighted with the cute and cuddly side you showed your life on social media and, you also noticed that he had bought the 10 paintings you had for sale on your website.

[…]

“You bought all my paintings” was the first thing you said to him when you saw him.

Chan's smile got bigger, “I had to, they were really good, you can help me put them in my apartment.”

You looked at him, not sure what he was up to but you just knew you were quickly falling for him.

You both went to the park.

“All right, you paint Berry and I'll paint… you have to choose between Edward or Lorelai to paint them” Chan spoke.

You were both on your date, on a picnic he planned, you had had this kind of outing with your girlfriends but not with a boy, this was definitely your kind of date. You looked at Chan, who was still looking all manly with his strong legs showing in his shorts despite doing soft and sweet activities.

You sighed in surprise, “You can't make me choose between two of my children.”

Chan laughed, “Okay, I'll paint them both and then we'll show each other our paintings at the same time.”

You nodded, “Show me a picture of Berry.”

“And you of your cats.”

Amid laughter, chatter and complicit glances, you finished your works, showing them. Chan's painting was good, not the best, they were a little crooked, but it was nice and you appreciated it and yours, truly and effortlessly you had excelled, Chan looked at you with admiration as he praised your work, no doubt you were someone worth getting to know more.

You spent the day together, he walked you around the city and as you were united walking side by side in your wide hallway of the building, he said to you:

“What's a movie that you can watch over and over again without getting tired and... would you like to see it in my apartment?”

The next thing you knew you were having your first movie night date with a man, since he wasn't a boy. Slowly you brought your bodies together and shortly after the middle of the movie you couldn't help but admire him a little, his pronounced side in profile, his strong arms; you wondered if you should kiss him or would you look like an easy girl, you had just met him but you weren't much of a fan of the slow burn, at least not in real life, that could stay on TV and books, you wanted Chan now.

Chan licked his lips and noticed that you didn't stop looking at him and slowly turned to see you, you abruptly averted your gaze in embarrassment. Chan sighed and moved closer to you, making you more tense, not because it made you uncomfortable, but because you really liked him and suddenly your body was acting weird. You stopped paying attention to the movie and only thought about the time and the anxiety that was slowly consuming you, you wanted to kiss him but you didn't know how to get closer, you wanted to taste his lips to check your fantasies that he really had it all and kissed well.

Chan noticed it instantly, your nervous body, your light sighs, he was going to take a chance and if you rejected him, at least it would be worth it.

He came close to your ear and his plan wasn't to sound this seductive, he still said it in that tone, “It's obvious you're not paying attention to the movie, why don't you better come and pay attention to me.”

You almost moaned loudly at what he said, it was so cringe, it was so fucking sexy it worked for you, coming from him everything worked.

You turned to look at him.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked.

You nodded without measuring anything that was happening, you just watched his slightly illuminated face for the TV light and move closer to yours and suddenly you met his lips, Chan started to move them over yours, you tasted the softness and how smoothly his fleshy lips were, then slowly he moved closer to you, when you unintentionally held onto his shirt, he started to kiss you deeper, his prominent nose colliding with your face, both breathless but unable to stop, addicted to the feel of each other until you broke apart.

“Come here” Chan whispered to you taking you by the waist and inviting you to sit on him for which you complied.

You let yourself fall into his lap with your body facing him, your legs beside his thighs, as you wrapped around his neck, ready to return to your sizzling make out session. This time Chan kissed you more desperately and excitedly, groping your whole body and tasting your tongue, at this point you were already so wet, his big hand stroking your body and the exquisite sounds of his lips colliding and his altered breathing made you so hot.

And that's when, as you let your body fall slightly, you felt his notorious, throbbing erection in your center, you were shocked, you didn't know whether to stop or continue but you didn't want to stop kissing him and you were getting more and more turned on. You separated, you saw his swollen, reddish lips and an expression on his face that you had never seen before, it was his usual look of tenderness combined with dark desire. Chan couldn't take it anymore and in a thick voice whispered:

“Should we continue this… or do you want to stop?”

You bit your lip, if you stopped there was nothing good in return, just you going to your apartment embarrassed and with your panties wet, yet you were so curious about what might happen if you didn't stop. You nodded and he looked at you confused.

“We should… continue” you sighed.

Chan smiled and kissed you again, running his hands down your back, this time under your blouse, unhooking your bra. You pulled away from him a little terrified and excited and let him remove your clothes, he brushed his lips down your neck until he reached your breasts where he sucked them hard, causing you to moan, but Chan wanted to make you feel so good that he was only going to focus on you and your pretty moans, so he had to take good care and treat your bottom area very well.

He pulled away from you and stared at you as he unbuttoned your shorts and then slid his big hand down and started stroking your clit over your panties with his long fingers. You gasped again, ecstatic and happy to be attended. You kissed again as between sighs you felt the satisfaction of his fingers rubbing your spot, you were enjoying it but it only made you wetter and needier and that Chan saw it reflected in your awkward but passionate kisses and your constant moans.

“C'mon sweetie, take off his shorts so I can touch you better” he whispered to you, “Gonna make you cum.”

With your breath hitching and heart racing, you heeded him, quickly standing up and removing your tiny shorts to sit on his lap again, this time your wet center feeling the stiffness of his cock. Chan gasped, you raised your ass a little and he wrapped his arm around your ass, sliding your folds aside with his hands and seeking your entrance, pulling the fabric of your panties aside, he stroked you a little, sliding all your wetness down your hole and inserted two of his slick, long fingers into your soft walls. You gasped, it felt so good to have your pussy filled.

“Oh, that's it dear, you feel so good, do you like it?” groaned Chan sweetly to you in a whisper which you whimpered in response.

Chan started to ram you with his fingers making you let out soft little whimpers, it felt so good, you could hear the wetness of your pussy being fucked, you were a little embarrassed to be so wet but you couldn't control it, your body was going crazy for Chan, as he enjoyed your sweet sounds coming out of your mouth and how choked his cock was in his denim shorts, he loved feeling the tightness inside you with the wetness of your pussy slipping on his fingers and, in a gasp and shudder, you felt your orgasm filling your body, spilling onto Chan's fingers and dripping onto his clothes.

You were beginning to feel ashamed, when you felt Chan's hands grip your waist tightly and cling to his cock as he bit his lip.

“Oh, you're so fucking sweet, c'mon” he moaned, moving your ass with his grip around his cock, squeezing it.

You turned on again in seconds and you understood everything, the heat of the moment took the best of you and you unbuttoned his shorts, being you now the one who put her hand in his crotch, feeling his wide hard cock over his boxers, you were surprised, you squeezed and caressed, trying to reach his tip but it was a bit difficult to which Chan helped you a bit to pull them down, finally seeing his prominent package and his dripping precum on his clothes.... once again you acted out of desire and lust and pulled down his underwear, revealing his member so highly visually appealing and large, you began to stroke it, and instantly turned to look at Chan, who was panting in pleasure. Once again you were so aroused, you wanted to do so many things but you just limited yourself to positioning his cock between your folds and start rubbing yourself on it, rubbing your soaking wet pussy through the feel of the fabric of your panties, while Chan revelled in the sensation with soft mmm's and you held tightly around his neck, and between kissing, fondling and Chan's stimulation of your breasts with his mouth, tongue and lips, the sizzling act brought you both to orgasm.

Both of your bodies trembled, Chan whimpered an “Oh, fuck” and you felt his throbbing sex and warm cum shoot between your folds.

Both of you had heavy breathing and suddenly you fell to realize what you had done, once again the heat now took over your cheeks and you tried to hide in Chan's neck; he smiled broadly and noticed your reaction.

“It's okay, princess, look at me, hey, it was beautiful, I loved it” he said sweetly, trying to get your attention.

You looked into his eyes in sorrow and he confessed in a whisper close to your lips, “Is it wrong that... I just met you but I feel I like you a lot? I'll take you on every cute date so we can get to know each other better.”

[...]

And so, after that night began a frantic story between you and your neighbor Chan, who was a little older than you and a mature man with his life and goals set, but he loved to do little things with you and help you and then have a fiery scene of making out and touching, you love to caress his hair every time you kissed him and he liked to help you in recording content and he would tell you how he was going to help you to offer you more work with recognized brands and, as days went by there was this afternoon, where he helped you and was there watching you recording, you were a little embarrassed but little by little you got used to it, and for some reason, your outfit consisted of a very short white plaid skirt, which drove Chan crazy in seconds.

He watched you attentively, sitting on your couch watching every little shot you made with your phone, you were completely dressed up while Chan was comfortable in his sportswear and black sleeveless shirt attached to his worked and muscular body, he was crazy about your short skirt revealing a little bit of your ass and how pretty you looked, while you were messed up seeing his biceps and marked pecs.

You finished recording your silly video, feeling embarrassed having Chan's heavy gaze on you the whole time as he smiled downwards at you and hugged one of your couch cushions, finally he stood up and walked over to you, unable to control his urges and placed his hands on your waist exposed by your short top. You raised your gaze slightly and smiled at him, he wordlessly moved closer to you to kiss you which you accepted by wrapping your arms around his neck.

“That little skirt is kind of dangerous, I feel lucky to see it on you before all your followers” Chan whispered to you, his hands moving down to your butt and squeezing it.

You were surprised and looked at him mischievously, and he surprised you again as he carried you by grabbing your ass and kissed you again, taking you a few steps to your room; for some reason you were aroused, and it was that particularly his strong arms with visible veins were doing in your arousal something, you hadn't had something sexual since that night in his apartment, you thought maybe it was time for something more.

Chan sat on your bed, leaving you on top of him, this time you kissed more passionately and desperately, both in the same synchrony and idea of what was about to happen, completely devoted to each other. And suddenly, you had the idea of tasting his cock. You smiled and lowered your kisses down to his neck, slowly you rolled off his lap and got on your knees between his legs, Chan licked his lips as he understood immediately and let you play with him a little as you slowly removed his shorts; Chan reflexively reached out his hand and it bumped into your camera on your bed, and a dirty idea occurred to him.

Chan grabbed your camera, turned it on and prepared to record, recording you making eye contact and finding it so fucking hot to him holding a camera at such a promising angle.

“Oh yeah, c'mon babygirl, suck my cock, is this your favorite YouTuber? She's a little fucking whore, look at…. ahh” Chan started to say but was cut off as he finally felt your mouth on his glans, “Mmm, she's taking my cock so well.”

You smiled with his cock in your mouth and began to suck him off, sucking his length to feel your tongue and cheeks, making him feel so good that he even gasped pitilessly.

You loved the feel of him, his big cock in your mouth while your hands caressed the rest of his member and from time to time you played with his balls, making Chan whimper and shudder, who at this point downplayed the camera in his hand and enjoyed live and direct the image of you on his cock, Chan stroked your hair, the muscles of his thighs trembled and in a sizzling whimper, Chan cum in your mouth.

You smiled happily, licking the cum from his length and swallowing every liquid deposited in you. Chan stroked your cheek for a few moments and gently motioned for you to stand up, then gently laid you down on the bed.

Once again, Chan held the camera and recorded the filthy process of lifting your skirt and removing your wet panties, finally getting a full shot of your soaking wet, throbbing pussy.

“Fuck” cursed Chan softly and aroused.

You looked so exquisite to him that he thought the camera didn't do you justice, you were a thousand times better in person. You watched him with desire and pleading eyes, inwardly begging to feel his big cock fill you with more.

“Take off your shirt” you whined, you wanted to see his abs.

Chan smiled arrogantly, he dropped the camera drop on your bed and obeyed your command, you bit your lip, you wanted him in missionary to have him close and touch his marked abs. Now, you were so needy. He took your camera again, with one hand he put your knees together and lifted them higher in the air, he stopped holding your legs and you left them like that, watching his dirty act of filming your pussy, Chan took his big cock and rubbed it on your pussy, making you gasp.

“What a fucking dirty slut, so ready to get fuck, isn't this y/n, your favorite little internet person, oh she's so fucking needy for my cock, aren't you, beautiful?”

You gasped as you felt his cock hit your vulva and then rub it through your folds and labia. Chan spread your legs again and finally entered you slowly and, capturing every scene of your tight hole stretching to make way for his cock.

You whimpered, slightly trembling and trying to adjust to his size, Chan sighed excitedly finally at the feel of you inside and began to fuck you slowly and recording a couple of moments, then throwing the camera back onto your bed and pulling his body closer to you, where he sweetly gave you kisses around your face as he rammed you moderately, sliding expertly into you.

“Faster, Chan” you begged, to which he smiled, more than happy to follow your commands.

You arched your back as you felt his strong, deep thrusts, filling your entire pussy to the deepest part of you, his tip brushing your cervix without issue due to his size and you felt your body fade beneath his. You entwined your legs around his waist and hugged him as he continued to ram your pussy hard, his warm moans in your ear.

You were so close, you hugged him tighter and your thighs gradually lost strength, trembling and falling into a deep orgasm at the sensation of his cock moving inside you. Chan continued for a while and finally cum inside you, relaxing his exhausted body a little on top of you.

He kissed your cheek sweetly, pulled away from you and, as a final shot, filmed his cock coming out of your hole as he was doing the perfect creampie scene.

Chan threw the camera back and moved closer to your tired body, showering your face with kisses, appreciating that you still had little traces of him around your mouth.

“I loved that, baby, that was so good” he whispered sweetly in your ear, "The little skirts on you drive me crazy."

[…]

The next day you set about starting to edit your videos and found yourself…. with the grotesque and silly footage Chan had made of you having sex, completely worthy of a homemade porn video, morbidly you watched it again, video shots moving, Chan shaking and his heavy breathing in the background, which turned you on a little, his comments in his thick voice, you sucking his cock and then him rubbing it in your pussy, shit, you were so horny, you couldn't help but watch in detail how good his cock looked for the camera, doing it complete justice, you had a very good camera after all.

You sighed totally aroused and almost as if by magic, there was a knock on your door, you paused the video, luckily at a part where Chan put the camera aside and your sheet was recorded. And you ran to your door knowing it was Chan, once you saw him you jumped into his arms, he laughed and returned the unexpected hug.

Chan had brought you flowers, you thanked him genuinely and gave him a kiss on the cheek, he was so sweet, you liked him so much but just now you needed him so much too. You quickly put his flowers in water and in a vase in the center of the counter.

“What were you doing, princess?” he asked you.

You decided to be honest and quick.

“I was editing my videos and came across what you shot yesterday, honestly I'm horny.”

Chan let out a chuckle at your honesty and walked over to you.

“And who am I to say no to you when you're like that?”

You bit your bottom lip as your smile got bigger, once again you kissed.

“Mm, you should watch the video later, you look so fucking good” you whispered to him between the small moments you parted.

“Fuck, I'm dying to see how I fuck you, but it's better to always live it up” he gasped, so needy with his throbbing cock.

You both headed back to your room, where Chan subtly motioned you to sit on your bed and, he with no time to waste, lifted up your little wool pajama top to reveal your breasts and pulled down your tiny shorts you were wearing altogether, he knelt between your legs and began to give hot and loud kisses down your belly all the way down to your mons pubis, he quickly got rid of your panties, and spread your legs to give him a better view of your pussy.

You were so aroused at his slightest movement, Chan smiled at the image of your exposed pussy and murmured, “I'm going to make you feel so good, princess.”

And, for the first time in your encounters, he directed his mouth to your pussy, gently caressing your clit with one finger, making you gasp and shudder at the sensation of his mouth on your cunt.

Chan licked the entire length of your folds, unashamed and totally satisfied with your taste, you were getting wetter and wetter, giving more and more way for Chan to enjoy your soaking wet pussy with delicious slurping sounds, you gasped and let your head fall back, completely yielding and pleased. You looked back at Chan, whose face was buried in your pussy, his big nose bumping against your labia and his tongue licking every taste in you; you bit your lip and stroked his hair, Chan made eye contact with you, he was enjoying it so much that he would end up cumming in his pants without any trouble merely with the feel of your soft wet pussy in his mouth.

With his free hand Chan began to fondle your breasts, completely ecstatic with pleasuring you, giving your sweet whimpers in response, which encouraged him more and more. Chan bit your labia softly, licked and sucked and, withdrew his hand from your breasts, to lean a little and separate your orifice, appreciating how needy it was, to then insert his tongue and feel your insides, you gasped more intensely, relaxing your body completely and, after an exquisite series of movements on your pussy with his mouth, you came to orgasm, panting loudly and seeing stars, Chan had eaten your pussy so fucking well.

Chan was also so close and cursed under his breath as he felt cum in his pants as he savored your sweet, glistening fluid from your orgasm.

He raised his face, and saw you, both of you happy, your chest rising and falling trying to settle down normal, him licking his mouth still with your taste, but Chan's smile was instantly wiped off, he recognized the sound of the door perfectly, his apartment sounded the same, he stood up quickly alerted.

“Did you hear that? Someone came in, are you expecting someone?”

You looked at him confused and instantly remembered, your mother and sister were coming to visit you, you had arranged it days ago on the phone and you had already warned the doorman to always let your mother and sister in up to your apartment. You closed your legs immediately and hurriedly pulled up your panties and shorts, your heart racing. Chan also stood up quickly and headed towards your bathroom as you frantically motioned for him to go in there.

You came out with a smile, brushing your hair a little.

“Heeey” you greeted.

“Where were you?” said your mother going to hug you.

You felt a little dirty, a few minutes ago you had an incredible orgasm leaving a mess. Suddenly your mother heard a noise in the bathroom.

“Is anyone else here?” she asked.

“My… neighbor” you replied to which your sister smiled broadly, “the toilet wasn't working right and he wanted to fix it.”

“Oh, honey, but why him, is he a plumber? Let me see what's wrong with…” mentioned your mother ready to go to the bathroom but noticed your sister's complicit look, “Why are you looking at each other like that…? Is he the boy Kaia told me about?”

“Chan is here?” your sister asked smiling.

“You told mom about him?” was all you could say.

Your sister knew nothing of your encounters, really the last thing she knew about Chan was when he showed up in the hallway. With embarrassed steps, you made your way to the bathroom, opening the door carefully where a shy Chan stepped out, his face and hands clean.

“Is… the bathroom ready?” you asked him, waiting for him to catch on to what he did instantly.

“Ah yes, it was nothing really.”

“Thank you.”

“I'm Bang Chan, nice to meet you” he introduced himself to your mother who smiled at him and received the gesture.

Still your mother was no fool, she knew immediately that the two of you were up to something, or maybe you were in the middle of something. Your embarrassed faces gave both you and Chan away.

“Hi, Chan” greeted Kaia, looking mischievously at him knowing that he was also there with you for something and that the bathroom was just an excuse.

He greeted her shyly and your sister's attention focused on your laptop on the counter, she approached the laptop animatedly,

“Ohhh, you're editing a new video, what's it about?”

You panicked and ran to close your laptop, causing her surprise and confusion, if she pressed play she was about to see the pornographic home video of you and Chan. You almost dry salivated, so terrified.

“It's a very important and secret video” you replied, sketching a smile and looking quickly towards Chan.

It was kind of weird, but you had to explain that you were in a way, dating him.

--------

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Valentines Day

Ace Trappola:

Ace wanted to play it off like he forgot the date, but then he’d be a liar and still in the doghouse. He didn’t want to get some generic Valentine’s related product, with some fake lovey dovey sentiment that he’d never say out loud in a thousand years. That would as disingenuous as lying and getting you nothing at all. He knew your hobbies and interests, so why was he suddenly at a loss for what would make the perfect gift for you?

You’re surprised to be greeted with a handful of colorful rectangular paper, ‘COUPON’ scribbled across the front of it in handing that looked slightly rushed. You were about to ask if he was spending a little too much time with Octavinelle before spotting the ‘within reason’ written at the bottom, getting the answer to your question before you had even asked.

“Yeah, you can give ‘em to me when you want me to do something for you.” He seemed rather proud of the idea, and you found it hard to hold back a laugh. This was clearly because he couldn’t find a gift that fit his standards, falling back on the tried and true ‘just tell me what you want directly and I’ll do my best to make it happen.’ It was very in-character of him, and you looked forward to the seeing the lengths he’d go for you.

Leona Kingscholar:

The holiday created such a buzz that Leona wanted nothing more than to run away from it. He didn’t care about couples, though he thought it provided an honest view of your partner depending on what they gave you. Money could go a long way if that was what your partner wanted, but what about the sentimental? The true romantic who wanted a real show of love and affection but could only receive a pre-made gift their lover had spotted while on the way home?

He doesn’t directly invite you to a night under the stars, but thankfully you speak Leona, and completely understood why he was telling you the exact place he’d be at a very specific time. You had, of course, received a beautiful piece of jewelry from him, something that represented his homeland and tied you two firmly together, but you knew there was more to him than just money.

A peaceful night spent beneath the stars awaited you, and as much as he insisted he didn’t believe in reading them, you couldn’t help but feel more connected while watching them together.

Jack Howl:

Jack had been standing outside the flower shop for nearly ten minutes now, a determined, somewhat scary, look on his face. Some of the patrons sent him wary glances as they came and went, wondering what he could possibly be glowering at when it came to pretty plants. Even standing outside a good distance away was almost too much for Jack to take, his nose twitching as the door swings open once again and his nose fills with the scent of every flower in the place.

He knew it was what you wanted; you had discussed flowers at length at one time due to a sudden sneezing fit that was caused by a particularly strong-smelling plant in the greenhouse. He knew your favorite color, the type you liked, he’d just have to get out the words and pay for them and then the deed would be done… Compared to the odors fighting for dominance in his nose right now, he could certainly handle a small bouquet with just one kind in them.

Jack stays strong, for you, for as torturous as this situation is as he stands in line with the enemy all around him, the smile on your face would be worth it (and his tail was already wagging happily at just the thought).