#the shirt i bought fucking smells like her

[tadbitsickchickwithadick]

Went to a concert the other night with my gf and her gf and not only did the opening band kill it, they also got the entire music hall to bark and it was genuinely the best set I've seen in years!!

[ravenslvt]

fucking your ex boyfriend in the bathroom of a party.

☆ multiple x f!reader ☆

cw: smut, mirror sex, public sex, rough sex, hate sex (sort of), tension, alcohol, oral f! receiving, v fingering, spanking, pet names, praise, sex with feelings, unprotected sex

you don’t know how your bestfriend managed to rope you into coming to this party, all you did know is you wanted to get plastered while she found someone to hook up with.

you held onto her for dear life as you made your way through groups of people. mostly strangers, but you saw some familiar faces. you started to feel a bit nervous when you noticed some eyes roaming your outfit. maybe you should’ve worn a longer skirt…

your bestfriend’s eyes immediately spotted a pretty girl across the room, she gives you an apologetic smile. you roll your eyes.

“just go” you sigh. at least someone would be getting some action tonight. you make your way to the kitchen where there were bottles apon bottles layed out on the counter. you grab one of the disposable cups, pouring yourself a mixed drink before downing it. the liquor bringing a comforting burn down your throat.

suddenly, you felt a cold chill in the room. you look around, there were no windows or doors open. until finally, your eyes immediately draw to a pair of familiar ones. oh great, he’s walking over. you turn around, pretending you didn’t notice him, hoping he’ll walk past you.

“oh, c’mon. acting like you didn’t see me?” he leans against the counter next to you, a drink in his own hand. fuck, he still wore the same cologne. the smell almost made you dizzy. he was wearing an unfamiliar jacket, it looked new.

his name rolls off your tounge in a harsh greeting, taking another swig of your drink. he gives a lopsided smile. “still mad at me, pretty?” he takes your empty cup, refilling it for you the way he knew you always liked it. you give him a glare. he puts his arms up in defense. his body looked bigger, more defined. he was clearly working out more since you two broke up.

you snatched your cup back. if you were going to be forced into this conversation, you might as well be drunk.

“why are you here?” you ask, your eyes never leaving his own. he was drawing you in without even trying.

“i was invited. why are you here?” he pokes your shoulder with his pointer finger.

you just point to your best friend across the room, who was now making out with the cute girl from earlier. he huffs out a small chuckle. “that girl never rests, does she.” he comments. you just shake your head, “no she does not.” you sigh, another swig.

his eyes go back to you. more specifically, your outfit. you had a new top on, he’d never seen it before. he’d have remembered seeing such a pretty shirt on you before. and of course, you wore your favorite mini skirt. the one he always loved you wearing.

“this is cute, wear this for me hmm?” he smirks, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of the skirt. you swat his hand. he was the one who bought it for you. almost fucking you in the dressing room when you tried it on after doing a little spin for him.

“no… i just had nothing else to wear.” your face flushes. you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from the fact you were both thinking about the times you’d sit on his lap in this skirt, panties off while you bounced on his cock.

god, he loved that skirt.

you could feel yourself clench around nothing just thinking about it. he gets a little closer when he notices your flushed state, his fingers drumming against the table filled with alcohol. his damned fingers that knew every part of your body.

ok, you were definitely a little drunk, or maybe you were just stupid.

your back slams against the door of the bathroom, the blasting music muffled from the small enclosed room.

your lips met in a hungry, bruising kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. his large hands gripped your waist, your head forced against the wood. he moves one of his hands to shove between your thighs under your skirt, his fingers digging into your panties, making you whine into his mouth when he pinches your clit.

“fuck, this wet already? missed me that much, sweetheart?” he mumbles into your mouth, pulling away to pull the flimsy fabric down your legs with his free hand. of course you wore your favorite panties, the ones he bought especially for you. the sight made him groan.

“i’m not your-“

“i wasn’t talking to you.” he stares directly at your slick pussy. great, now he was talking straight to your cunt.

you look at him with glossy eyes as he kneels down, kissing down your thighs. you hook your fingers into the waistband of your skirt, but he gives your thigh a slap. “keep it on. i wanna see you get fucked in this pretty little skirt again.” he practically growls as he gives your thighs a few more kisses and bites, marking you up.

“want everyone to see you still belong to me.” he sucks marks into your upper thighs, placing a few where your little skirt couldn’t cover.

you mewl his name when his tounge delves into your sopping pussy, his fingers pulling your folds apart to get more access. your hands grip his hair for some stability as he laps you, his tounge switching from flicking your sensitive clit to prodding at your tight hole.

he replaces his mouth with his fingers, pumping two into your cunt as he suctions his lips onto your bud, making you bite your lip to prevent yourself from screaming out, almost drawing blood.

“fuckk!” his long fingers hit deep inside of you, his digits shifting between thrusts and curling inside. your legs shook, hands gripping his hair for dear life. giving him a particularly hard tug, he groans into your cunt, the vibrations making you let out a moan.

the mixture of stimulations had you on the edge, he knew you were about to cum.

time almost seems to slow as he feels you clench around his fingers, your eyes flutter shut, gripping his hair for dear life as pools of fire seep low in your abdomen. his fingers continue to pump into you as you cum, wetness dripping down his chin and wrist.

it was probably obvious you hadn’t fucked anyone since you two broke up the way your pussy responded so well to him.

still, he doesn’t pull away, addicted to the taste of you. he was completely lost in your cunt until you pushed at his head, whining his name. he reluctantly pulls away, giving your cute clit a few more kisses before parting.

you both pant, his face glistening in your slick. you almost moan at the sight.

“you taste even better than i remember, baby.” his hands sooth down your thighs.

“don’t call me that.” you heavily breathe. he just chuckles, standing up. his firm hands grab your ass, giving it a firm smack, making you yelp.

“face the mirror. wanna watch you take my dick.” he pats your hip, encouraging you. you obligated, finally seeing yourself in the mirror. your lip gloss was completely smeared, making you pout a little. until your ex boyfriend comes up behind you, his hard on pressing against your ass. his hand wrapped around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder as your eyes meet in the reflection.

his other hand reaches to wipe the smeared lip gloss, cleaning it up for you. his fingers tap your lips impatiently, seeking enterence. your eyes never broke contact. you open your pretty little mouth, his two fingers sliding in. you groaned as you tasted yourself on them. he grinded himself against your rear, hiking your skirt above your hips.

“gonna let me fuck this messy pussy?” his fingers enter deeper into your mouth, almost making you choke. you nod, swirling your tounge around his digets.

“mhmph” you mumble around them.

“gotta tell me how much you missed me first.” he teases, removing his fingers to slowly undo the button of his pants. you roll your eyes.

“just fuck me-“

smack

your ass stings, you were sure there was gonna be a red mark the size of his hand. you whimper.

“what was that, pretty? use your words.” he purred into your ear, biting your earlobe gently, nibbling marks down your sensitive neck.

“fuck, i missed you so much, i need your cock so bad-“ you whine his name. “-i touch myself thinking about it- but nothing is as good as you.” you shamelessly confess, a smirk growing on his smug fucking face.

“good fucking girl.” he growls, taking his raging cock out from his briefs, his hand pressing down on your back so you bend over the sink to give him easier access.

you mewled as his leaking tip pokes through your enterence.

he slowly sheathes himself in, savoring the feeling of your hot walls contracting needfully around his cock. “god, it’s been so fucking long. it’s like she’s sucking me in.”

your fingers gripped the counter in front of you, your eyes focusing on his own. the way his face scrunched once he was burried balls deep inside of you. his deep breaths, the way his hair slightly stuck to his forehead from how much he was sweating.

you’re about to speak, but your words turn into moans of his name as he thrusts in and out of you, his hips slapping against your ass. your head rolls down to rest against your arms on the counter, but he doesn’t allow that.

his hand that isn’t wrapped around your waist goes to grip your throat, pulling you back against his chest.

“watch yourself get fucked by your future husband.” he grunts, his thighs burning from all the rutting, but he’d feel that pain forever if it meant he could be able to fuck you like this again.

you watch as your tits bounce through your shirt in the mirror, drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. the mirror was big enough that you could see his dick pumping into you. obscenely wet sounds coming from where you two meet.

“o-oh fuck, feels s’good, don’t stop!” you moan out, staring at him in the reflection. he was so focused on the way you felt around him, he had almost forgotten you two broke up.

“oh god, baby. i fuckin' love you, need your pussy every day, can’t live without it.” he bites your shoulder, hard, making you groan. his hand moving from your throat to grope your tits through your top. his hips only slapped into you harder and harder, your vision going blurry when the head of his cock hits your soft spot. you let out chants of his name, your arms reaching back to grip his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

you stared at yourself in the mirror. the way he slid in and out of you with ease made you squeeze around him, prompting a groan from him. your hair was out of place from his rough treatment, marks down your neck and thighs. you couldn’t even think about having to explain this to your friends later.

“squeezing me so good. so perfect for me. gonna let me fill you up, hmm? walk around with my cum dripping out of you, let everyone know you’re fucking mine.” he thrusts with a bruising pace, your whole body rocking with the rolls of his hips.

“p-please yes! need it so bad!” your mind starts to blank, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pulsing inside of you, threatening to spill at any minute.

“touch yourself, baby.” he pants, his thrusts getting sloppier. he was so close, but there was no way he was going to cum before you. you nod, bringing a shaky hand to your ruined pussy, rubbing and pinching your clit the way you liked it. your mouth fell open at the overwhelming pleasure taking over.

“m’gonna cumm!” you whine until the only thing you can say is his name, over and over. just how he always loved it. he whispers dirty praises into your ear, talking you off the ledge. you force your eyes to stay on his own in the mirror. you hated how fucking hot he was.

waves of intense heated pleasure start to roll over you, moaning as your vision gets blurry with tears of ecstasy. “s’good!” you scream, tightening around him, making it hard for him to move. he curses as you grip his cock so tightly, milking him so hard he cums inside of you.

you pant as his thrusts get lazy and eventually slow to a halt. he didn’t want to pull out, but he knew he couldn’t just stay in here with you forever, no matter how much he wanted to.

he pulls out hesitantly, the mixture of your release dripping out of you making him let out a harsh breath.

you finally come down from your orgasm, completely fucked out. oh how much you missed his cock. and him too you guess.

he turns you around, giving your cheeks kisses before enveloping his mouth with your own. your tounges gently roll over eachothers, contrasting in comparison to how he was just fucking your brains out.

your phone lights up on the counter with a text from your bestfriend. you squint, reading the message.

‘bitch i’m leaving. don’t think i didn’t see you guys btw -_-‘

he wraps his arms around your middle, seeing the message.

“gonna come home with me?” he leaves even more love bites down your neck, making you sigh.

“…yea”

GETO, gojo, SUNA, atsumu, leon kennedy, toji, kuroo, dick grayson (sorry not sorry), your fav ;)

masterlist

[jjslaybank]

mine - rafe cameron

warnings: porn WITH plot, use of degrading language to describe reader ("fucktoy," "slut," "bitch"), unprotected sex

i recommend listening to "it's no good" by depeche mode or "come undone" by duran duran while reading :)

omg this has been in my drafts for probably a MONTH atp 😭 hope you guys like it <3 OH and imagine s2!rafe while reading

please read till the end for a few more notes from yours truly 🥰

🏷list: @slut-4-gojo @booklover-6665 @amel1ee @riaras-everthroner

ward is going to kill him.

fuck it, rafe thinks to himself as he enters a strip club. he clutches the money his father had given him to escape the outer banks tightly to his chest as he surveys the scene in front of him.

he squints his eyes, adjusting to the dim lighting of the room. the whole place smells heavily of sweat and cigarettes. he believes it's the perfect place to find a little fucktoy to help him forget the intense pressure he's currently under.

it was then that he spots you — dancing and humping and grinding against the pole as men throw you money.

"holy shit," rafe mumbles softly to himself, his feet carrying him near to the pole you're dancing with before he even knew what his body was doing. a few men shoot him dirty looks. he never noticed them — his eyes are solely on you.

you're wearing your favorite pair — black, lacy underwear and a matching black pushup bra which pushed your tits higher than normal, deepening your cleavage.

as you notice rafe staring, you give him a wink. his eyes darken.

he needs you.

and he's willing to do whatever was necessary to have his way with you.

"hey, asshole!"

he turns to face one of the men who had rudely greeted him.

"eyes off my damn property."

"what?" rafe asks, squinting at the man. "what do you mean? she's like... like your girlfriend or something?"

the man scoffs. "hell no. just my property for the night."

he holds up a keychain with a singular key attached and a small, white jade stone.

the man nods his head to where you were dancing, oblivious to the conversation. "jade's my little slut for tonight, so i better not see your lousy ass around her. got that?"

rafe growls. no way in hell was he losing this pretty girl to an asshole like him.

"hell no."

the man stands up, slamming his fist down on the table to emphasize the motion. others look on at the commotion.

"i think you oughta learn some manners, boy."

"how much did you pay?" rafe asks, sighing and rolling his eyes as he rubs the bridge of his nose. he had been in too many fights recently. the poor guy just wants to empty his balls into some willing, pretty slut.

"more than you can comprehend."

rafe raises an eyebrow, squeezing the wad of bills ward had given him.

"number."

the man tilts his head, confused. "what?"

"give me a number."

"more than 1k."

"1k," rafe echoes to himself as he shakes his head, the tone in his voice almost mocking. "i have so, so much more than that... that lousy amount you're paying her. hey jade!"

you turn towards him, responding to your stripper name.

"if i pay you more, will you let me fuck you instead of him?"

"depends on the amount," you reply, batting your eyelashes at him as you continue dancing around the pole.

you can barely see his face as you converse, but you can make out the curtain bangs, hunched back, and the furrow of his eyebrows as he flips through his stack of bills.

"5k," rafe says.

your eyes light up and you shrug at the other man who had "bought" you for the night.

"sorry, i'm going with this fine young gentleman tonight." you gesture at rafe.

"you made a deal, bitch!" the man yells. rafe's eyes flash with anger. he grabs the man by his shirt collar.

"she said she's going with me! back the fuck off!"

rafe pushes the man down and he collides with a nearby table. he then frantically fishes a sizable stack of bills from his stash. as he hands it to you and you take it from him, his fingers reach to grab yours - effectively sandwiching the money between your hand and his.

he begins to run but you pause, picking up the key the other man was holding earlier. rafe takes the key from you and heads to the back of the club with you in tow.

the back is a hallway with doors - somewhat like what you'd see at a hotel. names of available women were attached at the top of each door.

"jade," he murmurs, looking at the names of the doors.

"jade," you repeat as an agreement. a good look at the man reveals to you his set jaw and conflicted eyes. you can feel something brewing beneath the surface, but you push it aside. you were told not to be nosy. you were lying if you said you didn't find hin sexy. in fact, to say he was attractive was an understatement.

you pull him to the door marked with your name. you grab the key from his hand as he lets you go and open the door.

the room inside is lit by a single small lamp perched atop a dresser. a bed sits in the middle, taking up most of the small room's space.

"shit," rafe sighs, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. "just wanted to empty my balls, dammit. no confrontations, no fights..."

he begins to pace around the room. "everyone's fucking after me. like... like everyone wants me gone or dead – or just out of their life. i'm not doing good, man. just gotta... just gotta push it aside and focus on the now, though. like... you know? just gotta man up!"

"hey," you begin calmly. "it's all good. i'm yours for tonight, 'kay?"

rafe sits down at the edge of the bed. you follow suit.

"calm down. i'm here. thanks for the money."

he nods, trying to calm himself. you take his hand. he looks into your eyes with what you think is a hint of vulnerability, but it immediately gets replaced with hunger. his eyes darken, and you liken it to a predator about to pounce on its prey.

rafe grabs your shoulders and lifts you, throwing you face down into the bed. your makeup stains the white sheets.

he paces around the bed, a low hum sounding from his lips. "don't fucking move, jade. you understand?"

"y-yes..." you reply meekly, feeling your panties dampen. being manhandled was something that turned you on more than you realized.

"just be good for me, okay?" rafe asks, his voice trembling slightly as he undos his pants. "such a pretty fucking ass."

you jolt as he slaps the meaty flesh. rafe chuckles lowly.

"i did everything i could to have you, and now you're here. and i'm about to fuck you."

you hear the soft clink of his belt buckle as it hits the floor. your heart skips a beat, your anticipation at its peak.

"but i'm gonna be nice about it," he mutters more to himself than to you. "gonna prep this tight fucking hole."

your bottoms come off with one swift tug, and rafe inhales them deeply, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"fuuuuccckk," he gasps shakily, his nostrils full of your scent.

he puts his middle finger into his mouth and wets it before slowly sliding it into your wet hole. his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head as he feels your hot, warm walls envelop his finger.

"oh, fuck," you moan, your back arching. the fact that you couldn't see what he was doing turned you on even more.

"give it to me, baby," rafe says, pumping his finger in and out of you faster.

he adds another finger and you gasp.

"that's it," rafe coaxes. "so fucking tight and wet, you slut."

he removes his fingers and positions his cock near your stretched hole, hissing at the contact.

"shit." rafe groans. "fuck, it's gonna feel so good filling this tight cunt up."

he takes a deep breath as he removes his finger and enters you. your eyes roll to the back of your head as you moan loudly.

"fucking hell," rafe growls. "shit, you're so fucking tight!"

he rocks into you, his cock filling you up completely.

"such a pretty fuckin' cunt," he murmurs, leaning down to bite the shell of your ear.

"this cunt," he continues, accentuating his words with harsh thrusts, "is all mine for tonight."

he pants, speeding up his thrusts. "i hope you're on the pill because i'm cumming inside this greedy fuckin' cunt."

you nod, your mind hazy with lust. "mhm, i'm clean and take the pill."

"good girl. see how she fucking sucks in my fat cock, she was made for me. fuckin' cunt was made for me," he mutters through clenched teeth.

suddenly he slips out of you. you cry out.

"fucking turn around. lemme see that pretty face as i fuck you."

you obey immediately. he lands a gentle slap on your ass as encouragment.

"pretty fuckin' girl," he compliments, leaning down to kiss your lips. you kiss him back, savoring the taste of sweat and marijuana on his lips.

as he pulls back, he re-enters you. you both hiss at the feeling.

"i'll never get enough of this fucking cunt, jade," he groans as you feel his balls slapping against you.

"mm," you whimper, about to moan out his name when you realize he never told you what it was. "wh-what's your name?"

"rafe," he answers, accentuating the one syllable with a deep thrust, making you see stars.

the name falls from your lips as a high-pitched moan. it sounds almost natural. he groans at the sound of his name and he thrusts into you faster, feeling his balls tighten.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum, you slut," he hisses through clenched teeth, the words coming out clipped as he revels in the feel of your pussy.

"cum!" you repeat, your brain going blank as you feel the knot in your stomach close to snap. "cum inside my greedy cunt!"

at that rafe thrusts forward, groaning in ecstasy as his cum shoots deep into your pussy. you cry out as you spasm around his cock, milking it for every last drop.

"fuck," he mutters breathlessly, slowly pulling out to marvel at the mess he made. "would you look at that - a properly bred fucktoy."

you're gasping for breath as you come down from your high.

"fucking shit," you mutter, your thighs soaked with rafe's cum as it slides down from your pussy.

"pretty good, eh?" rafe asks, a low chuckle leaving his lips. "i like it messier, though."

"me too," you admit with a small smile, moving your messy hair out of your face.

"i like you," rafe says, lying down beside you. "maybe i should keep you around. what do you think about coming to wilmington with me?"

charm's notes:

first of all, tysm for reading! <3 i've been working on this for so long lmao. anyways, i have this thing on my blog called "horny hours" where you can hope into my inbox (anon is on, dw) and send me horny thoughts you may have about any of the obx boys! feel free to add links to pics/vids/whatever too! don't forget to read my request rules tho to know what i vibe with. lastly if you want to read more of my work, you can check out my masterlist for my previous works as well as others i'm working on.

©️ jjslaybank, 2024.

[luveline]

If you’re still up for requests — could you maybe do one where peter or remus comes home after a visibly bad day and the reader misinterprets his behavior and assumes he’s upset with her instead ?? like she’s walking on eggshells, silently fussing around trying to figure out what she did, meanwhile all he wants to do is hold her and decompress 🥺☹️

absolutely no pressure! <33

“Oh my god.” Peter lets out a pained groan at the door, followed by the plastic crinkle of shopping bags hitting the floor. “My back. Jesus.” 

You look up in surprise from your book at the table. “I thought we were going together?” 

“I couldn’t face coming home and going out again.” He drags the bags to the fridge and pauses. “I figured you’d be okay with not having to go?” 

“Sure,” you agree immediately. He has a black cranky fog around him, you can practically feel it as you get up to help him unpack the bags. He doesn’t seem best pleased with you.

He rubs his eyes, rubs his mouth, and turns to the sink. He runs the faucet, pulling one of the glasses back off of the draining board to fill, and wincing at the harsh sound when he turns it too fast. Peter forgets his own strength every now and then —usually when he’s not feeling well. 

Peter gives you a funny look as you step into his space. You quickly step out of it and start to load groceries into the fridge and cabinets, pleased to find he’s bought the things you would’ve gotten yourself and even some things you’d have wanted but not allowed yourself. Maybe he’s not that mad after all—

“God damn,” he says, rolling an empty bag into a ball in his hand, “I forgot the fucking laundry detergent again.” 

“That’s okay–”

“It’s not okay, you’ve asked me to get it three times this week.” 

“I was just reminding you,” you say, fingers tingling with the potential of an impending argument. “It’s fine. We haven’t run out yet, we can squeeze another wash out of it. I’ll get some tomorrow.” 

He sits down in the chair you’d been sitting in and moves your book and plate of snacks aside, neither gentle nor rough about it. “Damn,” he says again, dropping his face into his hands.

“Pete…” 

His eyes must be sore by now he’s rubbing them so much, hands held to his eyes and fingers scratching into his hair. He tips his face toward the table and lets himself sit with whatever it is that’s getting him down. Me, you think worriedly. I shouldn’t have asked him to get groceries today. You knew he had a longer shift than usual, and that he’d want to do some Spidering afterward. 

You’ve sorry on the tip of your tongue when he lays his face heavily in one hand, elbow on the table barely keeping him up, and holds the other out toward you. Rejecting him doesn’t even cross your mind. 

“Fuck, I missed you today,” he says, taking your hand as soon as you offer it and dragging you toward him. You peer down at him with wide eyes as he wraps his arm around you, his nose quick to hide in the linen of your shirt. His voice tickles, “I just wanted to be with you. I knew this would make me feel better.” 

There’s a little dry barb at the back of your throat you can’t speak past. Peter doesn’t notice, rubbing his cheek in your side as he repositions you for optimal hugging. He lets out a self-pitying whine, second arm joining the first in a lock behind your back. “You smell amazing.” 

“I do?” you ask finally. 

“I think you’re just made for me, angel,” he says, voice dragging with fatigue. “You always smell good.” 

You squint with lips pursed, blinking in confusion as you bring your hand up to his hair. “Thanks for going to the store.”

“You’re welcome. I can’t function without groceries either, anyways.” He sighs with the particular Parker brand of lovelorn contentedness, a familiar sound. He makes the same noise when you’re tucked up in bed together on the weekends with nowhere to go, or holding hands on the subway travelling home, knee to knee or intertwined. “Can’t believe how quickly you make me feel better,” he murmurs. 

“I kinda thought you were mad at me,” you confess, matching his tone.

“You have some strange wires crossed in your brain,” he says. His sympathy and affection for you is palpable; his hand tracks a soft line down the curve of your back. 

“Yeah, I know. Do you want me to rub your shoulders?” you ask, pressing your face to the mop of his thick hair. 

He hugs you tightly. “You’re my dream girl.” 

[reignpage]

Movie Night

Summary: in which alien!reader asks Gojo to teach her a little something Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: smut, not proofread

Day 7

“What’s wrong, E?”

All fresh from a shower, you and Satoru are sitting in the sofa, watching a movie. He’s finally bought you your own clothes and you’re dressed in a warm jumper and cosy pants. Satoru won’t lie; he’s grieving the pleasure of seeing you drown in his clothes. But you were ecstatic at the sight of the space themed pjs and so he was left with nothing to do but he happy. 

Wrapped under a thick blanket, you’re huddled by his side, clutching his shirt. As with every movie, every night, you ask questions, and he answers as best as he can. He’s insanely grateful that you can understand him when he explains things like what a car is (a moving vehicle) or who Gordon Ramsey is (a famous chef known for being very wrinkly and very angry). It seems that your biggest issue, however, is stringing a full sentence together. 

You’ve been getting much better, accelerating at a rate no human could manage. It’s both impressive and terrifying. 

Right now, you’re tilting your head at a particular scene. Satoru forgot the plot of the money and he really regrets not keeping an eye out for the age rating, because on the screen plays a steamy, kiss scene. 

In fact, ‘kiss’ isn’t even the right word; they’re making out. 

How you both managed to last a week of doing nothing but watch movies without coming across a kiss scene he’ll never know. But the moment’s finally arrived and he is not any more prepared than he was on the first night.

He winces at the sound lips smacking against each other, a blush on his cheeks. A kiss is nothing -- he’s done far more than that, and multiple times. But, for some reason, he’s feeling a little shy. It might have something to do with the fact that you’re staring up at him with your big, curious eyes. 

“What they doing?” You ask. 

Satoru gulps. He’s become painfully aware of how close you are — his arm is trapped between your breasts, just a thin layer separating him from your soft flesh, and, under the blanket, your leg is strung ever so slightly on his thigh. He can smell his shampoo emanating from you with something sweet coursing just under that masculine scent. 

Chuckling uncomfortably, he explains, “They’re kissing.”

“Why?”

He has half a mind to turn the TV off and declare an earlier bedtime, but you look so innocent he feels bad that he was thinking of something indecent. He’s your friend. He can’t prey on you and take advantage of your reliance on him. Plus, how would a kiss between two people from different intergalactic species even work?

Would it be the same? Or does it lead to pregnancy straight away? What if you lay eggs in his mouth? What if he lays eggs in your mouth?

Composing himself, he searches for the right words. “It’s something people do to express their love for each other, I guess. Well, not all the time, actually. Sometimes it’s just for pleasure.”

“Pleasure?”

Why, oh, why did you have to focus on that one word? 

And why on everything that is good in this world is this scene so long?

“It means to feel good.”

The hand clutching his shirt flattens out until it’s feeling the hard planes of his chest and absorbing the vibrations of his heartbeat. You drum your fingers at the same pace, smiling softly. The heat of your hand, of your entire body, is setting his skin alight. Suddenly, it’s too hot under the blanket, there isn’t enough room or air, and he needs to go but he can’t bear to. 

Batting your lashes, you inquire, “How to make pleasure, Toru? How kiss feel good?”

Brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, he corrects you, “It’s, ‘how does kissing make you feel good’, E. Try again for me?”

You taste the words, lips stretching to practice the movement before you parrot back perfectly, “Tell me how kissing makes you feel good, Toru.”

Oh, fuck. 

Why did he make you repeat it in perfect Japanese? Why did he have to use this very moment as a learning opportunity? 

Curse his perfect teaching instincts!

He’s about to shrug you off, using sleepiness as an excuse to retreat, but then you’re leaning even closer, licking your lips and eyeing his. Warmth is spreading through his body, circulating in one particular area and he’s hoping you don’t move your leg any higher otherwise this will turn into a completely different conversation and he’s not certain he could survive giving you an anatomy lesson without getting a nosebleed. 

Licking his own lips, he grazes your cheek with his fingers. The skin he touches glows the very faintest hint of blue. He’s reeling. Up till now, he thought that your skin glows when you’re sleeping, but apparently you also glow when you’re being touched. But this isn’t the first time he’s touched you. 

Was it because before he was trying very, very hard not to stare?

He doesn’t know, and regardless, he can’t stop touching you. Satoru presses on your adorable cheeks to watch it light up, the way his is flushing red. Whispering, he asserts, “I can’t tell you how kissing feels, E.” 

Your hand presses harder against his chest, fingers splaying across the expanse. Subconsciously, he juts it out just a little. And with the most seductive voice, you demand, “Show me then, Toru. Make me feel good?”

Oh, and when you ask like that, how could anyone ever resist you?

There’s a tantalising closeness between you, just a hairsbreadth away from touching. When he finally closes that minuscule gap, a purr like thrum echoes through you. He kisses you, sweet and gentle, simply pressing his lips against yours. There’s nothing human about this, not with the invigorating taste of you, the scalding feel of your skin, and impossible softness of your body on his. 

“This is a kiss?” You mumble.

Chuckling, he says, “No, E. This is.”

With one hand holding the back of your neck, he sucks your bottom lip, unable to help himself from deepening the kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and he dives his tongue in, meeting yours. He knows he should slow down, should let you adjust to a friendly peck before he takes more than you can give, but you taste so good and it’s like he’s drunk. 

There’s a force, a gravitation pull drawing him in. He can’t resist it, can’t fight it, he isn’t even trying. 

You pull back in shock. 

Satoru chases after you, dragging you back in. He kisses you again. Groaning into your mouth, he slides a hand down to your leg, rising up your thigh. You jolt, a shiver running through your body. That electrifying purring hums in the air again and he’s smiling, hand rising and rising until he’s curving against your ass and carrying you over his thighs.

“This feels... I feel...,” you whimper, at a loss for words. 

Squeezing your thighs, he coos, “It’s alright, sweet thing. I’ve got you. You wanted to learn pleasure, right? Who better to teach you than Toru, hmm?”

You shiver again when he whispers that against your neck, nose skimming your jaw and lips curling. He’s inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering close at the weight of your body pressing down on him and your addictive scent. 

He can’t tell if this is all you or if it’s an alien thing, but he doesn’t care. Not in this moment, not when your hips are churning as he sucks at your neck, laying burning kisses against your skin, and watching the blue light dance under your skin. 

“Oh, E,” he sighs. “Are you grinding on me, baby? You want more than just a kiss, is that it? My greedy, greedygirl.”

When your clothed core rubs just right against his throbbing length, you throw your head back, that purring noise a hiss and it vibrates against his cheek as he listens to your rapid heartbeat. He can feel how wet you are; you’re soaking through your panties and pyjama bottoms.

Satoru’s growing dizzy.

One hand guides your hips to gyrate on him whilst the other clutches your throat to pull your lips back to his. Satoru knows he should stop now that he’s already taught you what you asked for, but he can’t. He just can’t. The thrill of going further, of testing your, and his, limits is too much for one man to resist. Even if that man is the strongest sorcerer in the world, even if not a whole gaggle of curses could pose a threat to him. 

“Toru!”

He thrusts upwards the same time he tugs you down and the elongated moan that leaves you, hips stuttering and hands frantically searching for purchase on his broad shoulders, leaves him feeling lightheaded. “That’s it, E. Take what you need.”

Your eyes are flashing blue, a darker hue than his own, and he’s amazed. Everything about you is incredible, like you were created to be his temptation, to be his undoing. Whether aliens have souls or not, he doesn’t know, but he does know that if you did, his and yours would be the same, all blue and perfect. 

Laughing, he leans back, hands simply resting on your thighs as you ride out your orgasm, shocked eyes pleading for explanation, for reason but finding none in his. That purring gets louder and louder, the vibrations stronger now and they’re flowing straight from your soaked pussy and right onto his cock. 

“Oh shit!” Satoru groans, nails digging suddenly. Within seconds, he’s cumming in his boxers, hot cream flooding his underwear from inside at the same time your wetness seeps through on top. “Jesus, E! That’s fucking intense, what the hell.”

He’s panting, eyes shut tightly as he keeps grinding your hips on his cock. 

You slump onto him just as he falls back. You’re completely depleted of energy, and he knows exactly what you’re feeling. Rubbing your back, he presses a kiss to your hair, muttering ‘well done’ and ‘good job’. 

“How was that for pleasure?”

Smacking his chest, you mumble a complaint. “Toru mean.”

He laughs agains.

“Sorry, E. You were just too cute.”

You raise your head, eyes bleary and fluttering shut. You meet his gaze, shaky fingers reaching for his lips and tracing them, all sore and pink, like you’re amazed at him the way he is at you. “Thank you. Kissing is nice.”

“We did a little more than just kissing, E. But sure, you’re welcome,” he chuckles. 

Eventually, you both fall asleep in each other’s arms right there on the sofa, ‘Are You Still Watching’ filling the TV screen and not the movie he can’t even remember the name of, drying cum posing a problem he’ll have to deal with in the morning.

He dreams of sapphire streaks in the air, of giant balls of fire, and an angel descending with its arms outstretched. And he hopes he never wakes up.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

pt. 2

you just saw your ex boyfriend, dick grayson, for the first time since he broke up with you.

you ran into him on the street.

no, like, literally ran into him.

you were walking your mom’s dog for her, a german shepherd she got when you moved out. she’d aptly named him trouble. despite his name, trouble was usually a mellow guy, even if he was huge. walking him was just another thing you were doing to try and ignore the thoughts constantly pounding out a beat in your head.

oh, dick would think this is funny! that’s dick’s favorite color, i should buy it! dick and i should go there on our next date!

and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on and-

anyways, you were definitely trying to keep yourself busy.

any time a memory popped up in your brain of him—

laughing at your jokes, holding you close while you fell asleep, kissing your neck while he thrust into you

—you’d empty the dishwasher, paint your nails, (any color but blue) turn on reality tv, read a book, stuff your face, whatever.

anything to stop fucking thinking about him and his stupid blue eyes and his dumb smile.

you’d been been watching the news, sprawled across the couch. just the regular gotham news: don’t use main street, mr. freeze’s ray iced out the pavement. the iceberg lounge had been raided by the police for the third time this month. the justice league defeated yet another extraterrestrial threat to humanity, blah, blah, blah. you weren’t really watching. the news program ended, and the next one started. a gotham gossip show. they were doing a special segment on the wayne family.

of course they fucking were. even your tv was conspiring against you. you had to resist the urge to chuck the remote at it.

you turned it off instead, heading to your room to get ready for a run.

(running for exercise or running from your thoughts?)

your mom had asked you to take trouble right before you’d walked out the door, and so you grabbed him and his leash and headed out. you’d forgotten the bags for his poop, but you didn’t think you would be out that long, so you just kept on going.

you were wearing the leggings dick had bought you, ones he joked should be a specific blue color. you hadn’t understood then, but you more than understood now. it was warmer, and so you just had on an old sports bra on top, and some converse.

you were not the athletic type. that was dick. probably still was. you wouldn’t really know.

you hadn’t talked since it happened, like three or four weeks ago.

time had become a little fuzzy. your mom said you could stay with her as long as you needed, but you were starting to get the itch to move out.

nothing against your mom, it’s just hard to sob really loudly into a pint of ice cream when she’s there.

and she keeps trying to wash the one shirt of dick’s you still have. you know, fully well, how dumb it is, (and a little gross) but you’re still wearing his shirt every night to bed. and maybe it’s all in your head, but it still smells like him. you aren’t ready to wash it. besides, now that you’re sleeping by yourself, you’re pretty sure it’s helping you fall asleep. something that was hard to do the first few nights without your big warm boyfriend next to you in bed.

it probably isn’t good for you, to keep wearing his shirt.

you’d had your hand between your thighs more than once late at night thinking about being enveloped in his scent. your nights were haunted with thoughts of his body over yours, his phantom voice in your ear. calling you angel, asking you if this was heaven, like the last time you’d had sex.

it definitely isn’t good for you.

but neither is life without dick grayson.

you try not to dwell on the fact that dick had given you a sort of non-reason for the breakup. sure, it got lonely sometimes, or you got anxious for your masked boyfriend, so you cried. so what if your patience wore thin after a few too many “i’m sorry, angel, i can’t make it this time”-s.

you were human!

but you’d never, never once complained about his absence or his commitments to his family.

never.

he’d just assumed you were silently suffering and it really irked you if you thought about it for too long. you still weren’t sure if you were mad at him or sad, or whatever. it felt like your brain couldn’t decide on an emotion so you just got twelve at once. but what you did know for sure was that he was 110% worth it to you. you just wish he’d realize that. see that. instead of just the times you were a little emotionally strung out. your ex boyfriend was too willing to sacrifice his own mental health for the sake of yours and you were sick of it. but you didn’t know if you had the courage to say that to him. or even see him, after the way this breakup had hit you.

your friends had managed to get you out of the house, a few times now.

you’d gotten almost too drunk every time, escaping your friends and going outside to get some air. this time, you saw a guy that looked just enough like dick, and it’d all been too much. so you got out of there. you sat yourself down on the curb, looking up at the hazy rooftops. you were always looking up. always.

and since the break up, you’d noticed the vigilantes of your city more often. maybe there was more criminal activity. maybe you were just paying more attention than you used to.

you’d seen spoiler and orphan, pounding the pavement behind you to run after some seedy looking guy holding a briefcase. you think spoiler tried to high five you on the way past, but there was no way. you wrote it off as your memory embellishing things.

you were pretty sure red hood had nodded at you before disappearing down a fire escape on the other side of the building.

your mom had recently gotten a delivery of security cameras for her house. but she hadn’t ordered them. the shipping address had only the address of some warehouse on the dock, the name just, ‘R.R.’ you’d set the cameras up, but you and your mom both were still baffled about it.

and here, sitting on the curb, you were staring at what looked like a dark figure crouched on the rooftop opposite. they’d been there when you’d entered the club, too.

you squinted, trying to make out shoulders and suit colors, when they stood up, and the light bounced off his shiny cowl.

fucking batman?

you shook your head, trying to shake your drunk brain like an etch-a-sketch. there was actually no way.

a smaller figure, one you hadn’t seen behind the shape of batman (!?) pulled a weapon, a gleaming silver sword, and pointed it at you. your head spun. batman (there was no way) shook his head at robin. he sheathed his sword, throwing his hands up in what looked like annoyance. you blinked, and they were gone.

you weren’t really sure if it had happened or not. you’d been trying not to think too hard about the fact that you still hadn’t seen nightwing. you’d really been trying.

so instead, you were walking your mom’s dog.

trouble had, in fact, pooped, and you were frantically looking around for something to pick it up with. gotham was already shitty enough without the addition of, well, literal shit. the streets were busy, but not crowded, and someone down the block whistled for a cab, catching your attention. you turned, and at the same time, trouble jerked your arm, pulling you backwards into someone walking on the sidewalk. the stranger made a choked sound.

“trouble??”

your heart stopped. you held your breath, turning around.

trouble was at attention, looking up at your ex-boyfriend with his head cocked.

dick’s eyes were wide. his hair shorter than you remember. he leaned down to scratch trouble behind the ears, his biceps and shoulder muscles in hard relief. are you dreaming? you didn’t recognize the shirt he had on, but he was wearing your favorite jeans of his, and his matching converse. your mouth felt like a desert.

trouble trails around the two of you, the leash long. he loves your ex-boyfriend, you know he won’t go anywhere.

“did you cut your hair?” you take a step forward. dick does too.

“i-” he clears his throat. “i did. do you like it?” he shifts his eyes, his cheeks bright pink.

you make a show of looking it over. he turns his head so you can see it from all angles. like he always did when he got a haircut.

your chest hurts.

you nod approvingly, flashing him a weak smile.

“it looks really nice. you’re very-” your face heats as you stop yourself. “it looks very handsome.”

that’s an understatement. you would’ve climbed him like a tree the minute he’d come home looking like that. the way his biceps were bulging out of his shirt sleeves could not be good for his circulation. it was great for yours, your heart was beating a mile a minute.

dick smiles down at you, stepping forward again.

“thanks.” he looks down, taking in your outfit. “nice leggings, ang-” he’s cut off when trouble spots a squirrel and darts, barking wildly. the problem is, trouble had been walking his leashed self around you and dick.

you’re now chest to chest with your ex boyfriend in the middle of a sidewalk, tied to him by rope. you vaguely hear trouble whine at the way his collar bit into his neck from the leash pulling taut. you didn’t even have the time to process the fact that he had almost called you angel. which was probably a good thing.

you’re breathing heavily, while dick doesn’t seem to be breathing at all.

he’s put his arms around you on instinct, and you hate the way you feel like you’re home. a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden closeness, and dick peers down at you through half-lids. your mouth dries up again. you suddenly feel indignant.

“you are not allowed to breakup with me and then show up and look at me like that!” you hiss at him.

you would throw up your hands in exasperation if they weren’t basically pinned to dick’s body. a smile breaks across his face, his bright blue eyes telling you everything you need to know. he stares at you, studying you. you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating.

“alfred taught me a new recipe.” he blurts, his hand clutching at your back.

he’s adorable. but you school your face and raise an eyebrow at him.

“..oookay?”

dick blushes, his face sheepish. “i could make it for you, if you wanted.”

“what i want is an apology.” you look him up and down.

your ex boyfriend grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. “understandable.”

“on your hands and knees. i think this is one of those begging-for-my-forgiveness type situations, don’t you think?”

dick nods, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. his eyes flash.

“you don’t have to worry about getting me on my knees.”

one heartbeat pounds behind your ribs, the other one between your legs. you huff out a weird sort of nervous laugh.

“oh, i’m not joking.” his lips curve up in a smile, one you know very well. he obviously plans to make up on lost time.

you forgot how charming he was. you have to practically force yourself to breathe. you’d do anything to have the real thing over his old t-shirt. you give yourself a mental shake.

he can flirt all he wants, but what about your heart? you look up at him, and his face softens, his pupils huge.

“can you get us untangled?”

dick nods, whistling for trouble. he frees an arm and grabs trouble’s collar, guiding him back around so the leash falls to the sidewalk. you step back, taking a deep breath. you’re cold at the sudden loss of his body heat. it’s a harsh reminder of reality. you grab trouble’s leash, having him sit. you look at your ex boyfriend.

“thanks.” you take another deep breath. “can you promise me something, though?”

he nods, his face serious. “anything. anything at all.”

“promise you won’t break my heart again?” you hold out your pinky finger.

dick coughs, surprised at your words. he looks down, taking a shaky breath. he’s in disbelief, he’s ecstatic, he’s on top of the world, he…has a lot of apologizing to do.

when he looks back up to offer up his own pinky, his eyes are shining. the sight makes your heart melt. you take his finger in yours, beaming up at him.

he gives you a soft smile in return. “i promise.”

you take your hand back, feeling the most hopeful you have in a month.

a breeze picks up, and the whiff you get reminds you of your earlier predicament. you look down. dick looks down too.

shit. literally.

you forgot about the fact that trouble had used the sidewalk as a toilet.

“is that trouble’s?” he asks.

you nod, making a face. “i forgot the poop bags.”

“rookie mistake.” dick shakes his head, smiling. you look him up and down, and then turn, walking back the way you came.

“text me about that recipe!” you lift your hand in a wave.

“but-..uh, the shit?” he calls after you.

“that’s alllll you, baby!” you yell back, practically skipping away. you feel like you’re floating.

[msbigredmachine]

Cheat Meal (Roman Reigns)

The OTC is hungry for a whole lot more than just good food.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Based off Roman's TikTok where he complains about his diet😂

Enjoy!

----------------

gif by @romanreigns

He shoves the last tiny piece of broccoli in his mouth and dumps the plate in the sink with a resigned sigh. The ‘breakfast’ will barely register inside his stomach but it’s the price he must pay to be in the shape he’s currently in, the best he’s ever been in. Even if it makes him miserable and slightly cranky until it’s time for his next bland meal in another couple of hours. 

Retreating to his bed at the back of the bus, Roman checks the time as he waits patiently for his wife to return from the diner across the road so they can head on to their next destination. They’re already running behind schedule with a near two-hour drive still to go. More excruciatingly, he’ll have to deal with the smell of greasy, albeit delicious food that he can’t even look at, let alone eat.

Minutes later, the sound of her perennially cheery voice floats through the air, followed by the driver thanking her for her generosity, having bought him his own breakfast. As the bus restarts its journey, the bedroom door slides open, and Roman does a double take. The yoga pants and tank top he swore he saw her exit the bus in has been replaced with one of his old t-shirts. Nothing else. The outline of her nipples betray her lack of brassiere and that fat, juicy ass of hers jiggles with every step she takes as she places a tray full of food on the dressing table, the small bedroom instantly filling with the aroma of a hearty breakfast. 

“Sorry babe, I had to wait a little bit for my milkshake,” Elise explains, piling pancakes onto a porcelain plate. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Baby, this is not how you were dressed when you left,” he points out, soaking her in as he sits up against the headboard. 

Elise giggles and settles down on the edge of the bed next to him. One glance at the contents of her plate - buttermilk pancakes smothered in butter and honey, a couple of sausage links and two thick strips of bacon - has Roman salivating. “That diet is really fucking with your head, babe,” she jokes, as he rolls his eyes. “I’ve changed into something comfier. All the better to eat my comfort food with.”

“Why you ain’t eating in the kitchen, then? You just gotta fucking tempt me, huh?” He’s not sure which one he’s talking about anymore; the food or her appearance. She looks good enough to eat every time, but she looks amazing either dressed down or in next to nothing. Like now.

Of course, nothing at all is his absolute favorite.

“Cuz I wanna share it with you. Sorry but I don’t have your discipline. Just a day on that dry ass, rabbit food ass diet of yours would fuck me up,” Elise gripes. “And don’t get me wrong. I’m so proud of you and what you’ve done with your body. You look carved from damn marble. But you’ve lost hella weight and it’s making your big ears stick out." She pouts. "I kinda miss my thick neck Daddy. There was more of him to climb.”

“You still climb me with zero problems. And I can’t eat this stuff. You know that,” he laments.

“You say that while you eye-fuck my bacon.” She picks up her fork, cuts into a pancake and daintily takes a bite before moaning in delight. The warm fluffiness of the pancake, the rich, sweet honey, the smoothness of the butter, all come together in her mouth, textures and flavors melding together as she chews and swallows. "Mmm, this is soooo good," she gushes.

Roman grits his teeth and growls sullenly, “I hate your ass right now.” 

“You’re making me feel bad.” Carefully balancing the plate in her grasp, she shifts around and straddles him, and he hisses at the way her ample backside seats flush on his crotch. Sure enough, she has no underwear on. “Daddy, have breakfast with me. You need to eat more. A couple of bites won’t hurt.”

Roman sighs heavily, smoothing his hands along her thick thighs that complement the rest of her thick body. “You know damn well I can’t say no to you when you call me Daddy.” It’s not a lie either. Three kids in three years and a closet full of Birkins, Louboutins and many other luxuries are proof of this.

Elise muses over her plate and selects one of the large strawberries topping the pancakes. “Let’s start with something sweet.” She offers it to him, seeing him relax upon realizing it’s something relatively healthy. “Eat,” she instructs.

Roman opens his mouth obediently, closing his eyes as the juice bursts on his tongue, some of it dribbling down his bearded chin. Elise grins as he moans in satisfaction, and she makes him eat the rest, his full lips streaked red from the fruit. Cheekily, she places her own lips on his, tasting the flavor for herself, and smiles triumphantly as he makes a surprised sound but deepens the kiss anyway, cupping the back of her neck to hold her against him.

“Oh, it’s like that?” he asks when she pulls away, light panting punctuating the air between them. His eyes sparkle with lust. “Thought you were only feeding me.”

“I’m multitasking.” Kissing him again, she stabs the fork into another piece of pancake, dipping it in honey and feeding it to him. She loves to do this. It’s her favorite form of intimacy. Her love language, if you will. Taking care of him, pampering him. Her gestures never fail to stir his heart, as well as other parts of his anatomy. “My sweet baby. Feel better? You’re not hungry anymore?” she teases him several bites after.

“Nope. Not for pancakes anyway,” he says. The words are cryptic and shrouded in mystery, that’s until his hand slips between her thighs. At her sharp, indrawn breath, he smiles darkly, flattening his palm so that he firmly cups her sex. “There’s another…delicacy…I wanna feast on.” 

Her husband is insatiable for her. Always has been, and she loves it. Feeling desired and wanted by such a beautiful, high-value man like him does wonders for her self-esteem and their marriage. But after one passionate, bed-rocking round earlier this morning and little food fueling him, she would think his energy is depleted. “Baby, you should rest,” she tries to reason, but he’s adjusting her already, forcing her to put her food away on the nightstand.

“I’ll rest after you come in my mouth,” is his curt, yet loaded answer. And just like that, her resolve is reduced to ashes.

He scoots his big self down the bed until she is seated on his face. Elise barely has time to collect herself when his calloused hands scrape her thighs and clutch her hips to hold her in place. Her body jerks as his tongue finds her folds in record time, lapping greedily. Heat instantly washes over her with a wave of nerves and lust as he works her with that unmatched skill that brings her to surrender. In mere seconds, she is lost in the pleasure, her pussy dripping from a mix of her juices and his saliva, all of it slurped up by his talented tongue.

"Fuck, Roman…” she moans, squirming on his face, her body ablaze. He’s so damn good at this shit, it’s damn near unfair. It feels like her whole pussy is in his mouth as he licks and sucks to his heart's desire. He tightens his arms around her thighs, his massive hands prying her open for further onslaught. The warmth of his breath, the prickle of his beard, his moans against her sensitive flesh has her mind spinning, prompting her to rock her hips in rhythm with his circling tongue, grabbing her breasts through her t-shirt for added stimulation. Her entire being hums with anticipation as her orgasm builds and builds. “Ro, I'm...I…oh fuck, Daddy,” she gasps, unable to string a simple sentence together in the state of bliss she’s in.

But of course, her husband knows exactly what she wants. What she needs. To give it to her, he works harder, incorporating his nose and chin, gliding them back and forth along her wetness, buoyed by the quiver of her thighs as he sends her over the edge. The explosion of her body is of seismic proportions, and Elise slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream, bucking, writhing, whining as pleasure consumes her whole.

She’s still reeling as Roman carefully lifts her off his face and drags her back down. His mouth captures hers with a dizzying urgency, exchanging the sweet tanginess of her arousal. They lick and suck hungrily on each other’s tongues, his hand reaching up to curl around her throat making her pussy spasm with need, so much so that her essence begins to smear the center of his gray sweatpants. Roman looks down at her mess with a proud, arrogant smile, and he lifts his hips just enough to pull the stained pants down his legs and kick them off. He strokes his dick, long, thick and hard, for a few seconds before guiding it inside her.

“Get this dick, baby, c'mon,” he orders, his low, gruff command sending yet another tremble through Elise that he both hears and feels as her breath catches. They moan together as she sinks lower onto him, balancing herself with her hands on his bare, muscular chest. Her hips roll back and forth, grinding on him, keeping him pinned to the sheets while she chases down their collective pleasure. 

He fucking loves it when she’s on top. It allows him a holistic view of the body he's been obsessed with since the day they first met. His big hands roam her front, relieving her of her t-shirt so he can properly idolize her breasts, so plump and pillow-soft as he massages them, gleeful at the way her nipples harden from his touch. He then travels south to grab her ass, enjoying the round, supple cheeks flexing against his palms as she rides him. He grips each one possessively and proceeds to lift her up and down on him, bouncing her on his throbbing erection. 

“Fuuuuck...”

“Nah, you can take it. And not too loud now, we don’t need the driver hearin’ us again, hmm?” Roman taunts, squeezing her left cheek and spanking it hard, earning a yelp from her. His eyes are blown as he studies the expressions on her beautiful face. “My fine ass, sexy ass wife. Climb me like only you can, baby,” he encourages her with soft moans of his own.

Falling forwards, Elise tucks her face into her man’s neck, her breathy kisses warming his skin as she manages to maintain the pace he’s set for her. He’s so deep inside her, nearing her cervix it feels like, the sweet sensations amplified by their chests pressed together, his large hands caressing her with so much love and care and reverence while talking her through it with his deep, husky voice and dirty words. Years together and their lovemaking is still as earth-shattering as their first time, and she appreciates it more than he’ll ever know.

Roman kisses every part of her his mouth can reach, reveling in her increasing moans as he angles his hips, keeping his dick buried in the ocean of her cunt. “Leese, you feel so fuckin’ good…” he groans on her shoulder, licking the butterfly tattoo etched on her skin, “Damn, baby, I could stay inside you like this all day…”

Elise tries to agree with him, but her jaw drops when he bucks up into her without warning, his hands planted on her ass holding her down to take every inch of him. The depth, the intensity and precision of his strokes render her speechless. Her eyes roll back as his lips find her nipples, suckling the swells of her heavy breasts, the wet smacking sounds of his hungry mouth and her gushy pussy sounding around the bedroom. The shit is so good that neither wants it to end, more than content to just remain on the bus and fuck all day long.

"Daddy," she whines, her fingers sliding over the back of his hair, tangling in the long, soft locks as she locks hazy gazes with him. His brows are furrowed, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth; telltale signs that he’s close, just like she is. "Oh baby, I'm gonna come again..." she whimpers.

"Yeah? Is my girl about to nut?" Roman asks, grasping her chin and brushing their lips together. "Gimme that nut, beautiful. Soak Daddy’s dick with your wet ass pussy," he goads her with another kiss, another smack on her backside that makes her ride him harder. Her pupils are dark and dilated with desire, reflecting the passion he’s feeling. He wraps his huge arms around her middle, and pushing up on his heels, he accelerates, fucking her faster, thrusting deeper, until her moans dissolve to broken, breathless cries as she trembles on top of him. Her walls milk his dick greedily and trigger his own release. Roman’s groans and curses fill the room, his body shuddering too as he empties his load, filling her to the brim. 

With a soft whine, Elise melts on her husband’s heaving body, both parties spent but immensely sated. An eternity passes before either move, Elise reaching over Roman’s prone frame to grab a piece of bacon and pop it into his mouth.

“Good? There's more if you want,” she asks, watching him chew on it.

Roman sighs contentedly and rests his head on the pillow. “Mm-hmm. That's another couple added minutes on the treadmill though.”

Elise giggles and snuggles up against her action figure of a husband. “You’ll be fine. And you’re perfect to me already, by the way,” she assures him.

THE END

---------------

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[na0koz]

Moving in with jinx hcs? Like imagine how fucking insane she’d be getting to be around you 24/7 365

mention of name carving (sh)

lmfaooo omg she’d be like triple crazy.

toxic!jinx masterlist

- jinx following you would tone down a bit. every time you go out she’d just come with you. but if it was something she couldn’t tag along to, like meeting a friend or work or something, she’d still follow you. she’d just make sure to be home before you so you don’t get suspicious.

- the first few days weeks of you moving in with her she was just so excited to have you with her. literally clinging to you the whole time, trailing after you everywhere.

- you peeling her off you before you go to the bathroom. jinx whining outside the door about how she misses you until you come out.

- when you first arrived, her kitchen was coincidentally stocked with every single one of your favourite foods, only a few of which you’d actually told her about. jinx acts like they’re her favourites too to explain why she has them but the truth is, she can’t stomach most of them and she’s the most picky eater there is.

- she’ll literally buy you a new house if you don’t like a single aspect of hers. if you find her bed uncomfortable she’ll buy a new mattress, whatever. she wants you to want to stay.

- gets you gifts like every week. could have bought you something nice or made you something, even just a nice shaped rock that she thought you’d like.

- sometimes jinx thinks she’s dreamt your entire relationship. she can’t really believe she’s managed to bag someone like you and sometimes you catch her pinching or slapping herself, trying to see if this is all real or not.

- in all honesty i think she’s carved your name into her skin at least once. she really makes an effort for you not to see and it’s basically the only time she’s not clinging to you, because she knows you will definitely figure out how crazy she is if you do see.

- i’m pretty sure she has bpd? (like in the show) so she will freak the fuck out if you say something or act in a way that makes her think you’re mad at her or don’t like her anymore. locks herself in the bathroom for hours until you coax her out.

- she’s grateful for you being there to look after her when she gets depressed too. before you lived together, she would sometimes disappear for days at a time but now you’re there to help her feel better.

- sometimes jinx lets you choose what she wears that day. she wants to look as pretty as she can be and she thinks you’ll find her prettier if you choose her outfit (you find her pretty either way but you won’t tell her that).

- sleeps with her make up on. one time you cleaned it off for her, wiping the smudged purple and black shadow off her eyes. she was awake but she let you do it. now she sleeps with her eye makeup still on on purpose so you’ll clean it off. no matter how many times you tell her not to.

- has a piece of your hair in a jar that she cut off in your sleep. maybe even has it braided with a lock of her own hair she cut off especially.

- watches you sleep most nights. she barely sleeps yet is somehow full of energy all the time. no one knows how she does it. you catch her ‘resting her eyes’ sometimes but you’ve only seen her actually sleeping in bed at night like once or twice.

- is a bit weird about laundry. she’s volunteered for it to be her job to “take it off your hands” but behind the kind act, you fail to notice that a couple of items of your clothing take a little longer to return. panties (obviously), shirts, anything. anything with your smell on she’ll take and do whatever with while you’re out of the house.

- she has a lot of jewellery and lets you wear it as another way of claiming you.

- the only problem with you living with her is that she has to hide all of the stuff she’s taken from you in the past, the pictures of you and the notebooks filled with your every move to somewhere you definitely won’t find them. she absolutely cannot have you finding them. maybe she keeps them in your old apartment using the key she made for it. hopefully you don’t have a reason to go back there.

- all in all i think she’d be good to live with. she knows everything you like and will literally do anything for you.

[crimsonnsstuff]

Can you do something out of games like they are in outside world.

Dark hwang inho x maid reader. Where his eyes linger on his sweet maid longer than it should be. But she's not into him. If it's money she's saying no for he'll throw stack of money on her face. Forcing her to sleep with him. Non con

Clean and proper

Warnings: non con, p in v, reader only fucks In-ho for cash.

The whole day was a mess, scrubbing floors desperately for your daily paycheck. Being In-hos maid was a mess in general. He found you, sleeping on a mark bench and offered you the job. You had to except it, having no money. He was even offering you to stay there. You had to say yes.

Now here you were, in your room, changing out of your clothes. You were grateful that the uniform wasn’t so slutty. Tho, he did make you give him blowjobs here and there, but he paid you for it.

You bring your nose up to the clothes. The uniform smelled like food and cleaning products. You groan, throwing the uniform in the laundry hamper. You were gonna have to wash it tomorrow morning. You walk over to your dresser, opening one of the drawers. Your eyes land on the dress that In-house bought you. It was a dark green and it brought out your eyes.

He bought it for the dinner that he so desperately tried to take you out too. He had to pay you to go. You sigh and pick up your pajama set beside it. You lay it out on your bed. You hear a few soft knocks on the door, and In-ho walked in.You stood there, in the middle of the bedroom, in just your panties and bra. In-ho acted weirdly casual. “Hey,” he says softly, approaching carefully. “You didn’t come for another blowjob, did you?” You ask. His eyes narrow. “Don’t be a fucking brat. And no, I came for more than that.”

Your heart drops. More? There’s no way you would let that man fuck you. “I’m not letting you fuck me.” You growl, sitting down in the edge of your bed. “Jesus Christ, brat. I gave you a place to stay and a job. The least you could do is let me fuck you.” He groans. You open your mouth to say something. “Shut up. Just shut up.” He says, reaching into the pocket of his pants. He pulls out his wallet and opens it. He places a couple hundred dollar bills on one of your thighs, then a couple on the other. He puts his wallet pack in his pocket. “What do you say, hm?”

You sigh and pick up the cash, setting it on your nightstand. “Fine.” You mutter. He smirks, crawling over you. He leans down and presses kisses to your collar bone. You close your eyes, disgusted by the way you’re letting this man fuck you. He ruined your life. Maybe you were being dramatic, he did give you a place to stay after all. In-ho's hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming. His mouth moved to your collar bone, to your boobs, igniting fires you didn't know you had within you. You squirm as he kisses down your stomach.

He pulls back, unbuckling his belt. He throws it to the side. He is quick to take his pants and boxers off. You recognized the boxers, you’ve washed them countless of times. He slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing his toned chest to you.He is quick to rip your panties off, tearing them. “Hey! I like these!” You groan. “Shut up. I bought them. What makes you think I can’t buy you another pair?” He rubs his cock yo and down your folds, teasing you.

As he entered you, the line between reluctance and desire blurred. His rhythm was punishing yet intoxicating, each thrust a reminder of why you should never have agreed to this deal. Yet, with each movement, you felt yourself losing to the pleasure he was forcing upon you, the reality of his payment making it all the more complicated.You moan softly. You can’t believe this actually felt good. You can’t deny it, he was really attractive. Your back arches off the bed. Suddenly, he thrusts to deep and you yelp, pawing at his chest.

He is quick to pin your arms to the sides of your head, speeding up his thrusts. “You deserve a raise for how good this pussy is..” he grunts, hair sticking to his forehead.He lets go of your arms and grabs your legs, opening them up wider and getting reader to cum. He groans loudly as he cums deep inside you, and you squirt on his cock, coating his lower belly and thighs. He chuckles.

“Jesus Christ.” He slips out of you, walking to his discarded pants on the floor. “You earn another one hundred for that.” He says, placing a hundred dollar bill on your tummy.

[dean-samw67]

can you do cis female reader with sevika in a friends with benefits relationship? maybe smut but lots of angst because reader wants more but sevika is too busy and doesn’t want to commit to a relationship right now. also i love you❤️

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'It's For The Best'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

AFAB!Fem!Reader x Sevika

WARNING: SMUT, ANGST, SWEARING, MINORS DNI

(I love you!! Hope this is up to what you are looking for! It has been quite a while since I have written)

Word count: 2801

The smell of cigarette smoke fills the air as you catch your breath, staring at the ceiling. Glancing next to you after a moment, looking at Sevika with a cigarette in between her forefinger and middle finger. It was always like this. No aftercare or much of anything after sex. Actually, the fact that she stayed for her cigarette is an improvement. Normally she is quick to get her shit and leave. You kind of test the waters and roll over to lay against her chest, arm laying over her stomach. That's when she sits up, pushing you off as she does.

“I got to go.” She says, a little muffled from the cigarette hanging from in between her lips. You let out a groan and sit up, the thin sheet falling off your chest. Sevika grabs her boxers and slips them on, her pants following. You watch her with sad eyes as she moves around the room.

“Sevika-”

“No. You know our agreement. This is nothing more than sex.” She says with a stern look. You bite your lip to keep from saying something stupid. “No strings attached.”

“Right…” You mumble and run a hand through your hair with a sigh. Sevika picks up her shirt and pulls it on in a quick motion.

“You coming back tonight?” You had the tiniest bit of hope in your voice.

“Probably not.” She puts out the cigarette on the ashtray on your bedside table. The one you specifically bought for her.

You go to say something but she’s out the door before you get a chance. Fuck. This is what it has been for a while now. You can’t exactly remember why you agreed to it. It happened by accident really. She was pent up and you really liked her. A lot. So it just happened. Now you are stuck in this loop. You pining while she is only interested in the sex. She said she really couldn’t do a relationship. And you could understand, if it wasn’t for how much it hurt.

You groan as you get out of the bed to head to your bathroom and take a shower. A long one, spending at least an hours wallowing in your sadness before getting out. Your fingers and toes were pruned up from how long you were in there. You step in front of the fogged mirror as you dry your hair, using the towel to swipe at the mirror so you can see yourself.

You look at the way your eyes were red and slightly swollen. You were really down bad.

~~~

A few days later you were back at it. Her hands tangled in your hair as her tongue moved against yours. She was not gentle about it. Her prosthetic hand gripping your hip and pushing your rear end roughly against the wall behind you. All you can do is give in and moan into her mouth.

“Fuck…” The way she muttered that word sent you into a spiral. Her voice was deep and raspy. It drove you insane. Your hips buck forward in an attempt to get some form of friction but her hand held you in place, earning a whimper of need from you. She can’t help but chuckle at the needy sound.

Your whines are replaced by a gasp when she lifts you up off the ground with just her mechanical arm. Your legs instinctively go around her waist and grunt as her body presses you against the wall even more. She bites at your bottom lip, tugging it a bit with her teeth.

She pulls you off the wall finally and in one fluid motion you are on the bed while she is lifting off your top. You stare up at her, pupils dilating as you shift to help her. Your bra is gone just as quick as your top is and her lips are quick to attack the now exposed skin. As soon as you felt her sucking on the skin you knew she was going to leave marks. Deep ones. She knew what she was doing.

“Sevika…” The moan leaves your lips so quick. Her mouth moves over your breasts, leaving marks in its wake. Your hands find the hem of her shirt, tugging it upwards. She assists you, allowing you to get it off. Your eyes trail over her toned stomach and happy trail that stuck out from the hem of her pants. She wore a black sports bra.

She dips her head back down, kissing along the valley between your breasts. Her lips trail your stomach, hands yanking down your pants and panties in a swift motion. You gasp when the air hits your skin and your legs shut instinctively. She pulls your pants off your ankles and looks up with a smirk as she drops to her knees and forces your thighs apart. You look down at her, biting your bottom lip as you felt the way your wetness is now exposed to her.

She chuckles as her hand slides down your stomach and rests just above where you need her most. She glances at you once before her thumb finds your clit causing you to jump and let out a whine of pleasure. “There you go…” Her words are like an electric shock through your body as she touches you.

She always did this. Made you lose control, gasping and moaning, uncontrollably. And she always managed it so quickly. It was almost embarrassing. In an instant her hand is gone and replaced by her mouth, lips latching around your swollen clit. Her hands grasp the back of your thighs and push them up and open more, allowing more access. You squirm as strings of moans leave your lips, your hips bucking against her face.

The soft moans Sevika lets out, sending soft vibrations and increasing the pleasure she gives you. You feel her nails digging into your plush thighs, sure to leave indents.

“Sevika!” The way you moan her name just encourages her to double her efforts. Your legs and body twitch with pleasure. Hand tangled in her short hair, tugging and pulling. If Sevika didn’t know you, she would have assumed you wanted her to stop with how you were pulling. But you were just getting close. She could feel from how the lips of your cunt pulsed against her chin.

Your moans get louder and louder the closer you get to that peak. And she very quickly helped you reach it. Your brain going blank. “Fuck, I love you!” The words slip past your lips without a thought behind them. You were so lost in your haze of pleasure it wasn’t until you came down that you realized what was actually said. Your eyes fly open and you look down, staring at a wide eyed Sevika. “I…” What could you say? You just told her you loved her when your agreement was to be no strings attached.

Sevika huffs and gets up. You sit up fast and grab her arm. “Wait! I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I should have known.” She mutters

“No, I just was caught up in the moment.” You shake your head, scared she’d walk out, your grip tightening on her arm.

“Was that really it? Or have you been harboring these feelings for a while?” Her look is stern when she finally makes eye contact and you shrink a bit.

You tried to think before saying anything else stupid. “I don’t-”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t actually love me.” She gets in your face while you stare at the ground. You slowly lift your eyes, meeting hers. You couldn’t. “I thought so.” She says when she gets no answer. She pulls away and grabs her shirt.

“Don’t leave, please. We can talk.” You seemed so desperate and you hated it.

“There is nothing to talk about. You want a relationship and I cannot be in one. It's the end of this.” She pulls her shirt on, slipping her arms through.

“Sevika, please.” You get off the bed and rush in front of her. You place a hand on her arm. She grabs your wrist. Not enough to hurt you but enough to stop you and hold your hand away from her. You look at her with sad eyes. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath before opening them again.

“No.” Her voice told you everything. She would not budge. This was it. Tears build at the corner of your eyes and she has to look away. She can’t stand to see it. She lets you go, pushing a little, causing you to stumble back enough for her to get around and out of the room. This leaves you standing alone as you listen to the front door open and then slam shut.

You break down as soon as the sound of the slamming door rings through your ears, falling to the floor. You messed up. Of course you did. Friends with benefits never work the way people think it does.

~~~

After that you threw yourself into work. Unfortunately you worked at The Last Drop. Sevika’s regular. But you didn’t see her there like normal. You felt a little sad about it. Never thought she’d give up The Last Drop. Maybe she was avoiding you.

You were closing up, wiping down the tables. You hear the door open and a set of feet walking in. “Sorry, we are closed.” You say before turning around. You are shocked to see Sevika standing there.

“You know, it can be dangerous for women to close alone.” She says, fiddling with her fingers nervously. It was a display you never saw from her.

“Don’t reduce me down to a damsel in distress.” You scoff as you walk to the bar, beer mugs in hand. You lower the mugs into hot soapy water and look back up at her. you grab a clean glass and pour her regular drink and set it on the bar for her as you go back to cleaning.

She walks over slowly, almost like she’s testing the waters of how close she can be to you. She reaches the bar and picks up the mug, sipping the liquids hesitantly.

“I didn’t poison it.” You joke as you wipe down the bar.

“I know…” She wasn’t her usual self. It was almost unsettling.

“Why are you here?” You place your hand on your hip. She takes a few moments to answer you, staring into her drink as she seems to think.

“I don’t know.” She finally mutters, sniffing before looking up at you.

“I thought you were done with me.” You can’t help but be snarky. It is what is keeping you from being miserable.

“I was done with the friends with benefits.” She replies. “You know I can’t do relationships. I can’t do love.” You roll your eyes. Your heart ached from her words knowing the way she feels versus how you feel clashed heavily.

“So what do we do from here?” You ask, focusing your attention on cleaning glasses.

“I don’t know.” Even Sevika felt lost. Her normal confident demeanor was gone. You keep your head down as you listen to her sigh. “Go back to before this?”

“Act like we don’t know each other?” You look up at her, anger crossing your face for a second.

“Maybe it’s best. That way you don’t stay in love with someone who can’t give you what you want and I don’t feel like I am stringing you along.” She shrugs and you feel a wave of different emotions. There is no way she's serious.

“Are you dumb?” You scoff. You cringe at your own words. They weren’t the nicest.

“No. It is best for both of us.” Sevika stands up, anger rising in her voice.

“For you. It’s best for you. You do not get to tell me what is best for me.” You snap as you place your hands on the bar, leaning forward.

“Move on, Y/n. Find someone who can give you what you actually want. Because it’s not me. And you aren’t going to guilt me into giving you what you want because you feel bad for yourself.” She crosses her arms as the conversation gets more heated. “And yeah, I feel bad too. But I am allowed to make this choice for myself. You have no clue what I actually have going on in my life.”

Your eyes soften a bit as you listen. Your face was a mix of pain, anger, and sympathy. She lets out a sigh as she closes her eyes. She felt awful for ever suggesting friends with benefits. She knew it was stupid but Y/n was there when she needed that relief the most.

“So that’s it then?” You ask, your voice cracking a bit as you speak.

“Yes. That is it.” She confirms.

“Right.” You mutter and shake your head. You grab her drink and dump it out, cleaning glasses. “We are closed. Please leave.” Your voice was cold and it shocked her. She looks at you with wide eyes.

“Y/n…”

“Do I know you?” You ask as if you didn’t know who she was. Going back to how it was before they knew each other. Sevika swallows down her emotions.

“No… No, you don’t.” She puts on her normal angry looking face as she turns to leave. You watch as she walks out the door. You let out a shuddering breath as the door shuts and let your body relax, head falling.

~~~

2 years later…

Plenty of time passed. You don’t think you’d ever completely be over Sevika. But it was enough to go day to day. You had attempted to be with other people but it was never the same. Everything reminded you of her. The mark she left on you was permanent.

She was still a regular at The Last Drop and you still worked there. But you both acted as if you had no idea who the other was. Barely even acknowledging each other.

It wasn’t until Sevika saw you with another customer one day. The way you leaned against the table. The way you smiled at this random woman. The way she looked at you. Oh it pissed Sevika off.

She knew she shouldn’t be. She was the one who told you she wanted to end things. But yet she still was.

“Yo, what's got you distracted?” One of the guys she was gambling with says, pulling her attention back.

“Huh?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“It’s your turn.” He motions to the cards. She nods and takes her turn. She had lost which never happens. She was beyond irritated. It’s because of you and that random woman. And she took it upon herself to follow you out when you finish your shift.

“Y/n!” She calls as she catches up. You look up at her and sigh as you look back away in annoyance.

“Can I help you?” You as you keep walking.

“Yeah. What's up with you and that lady back there?” She asks and you look at her with a frustrated and confused face.

“What does it matter?”

“Well, you know… she might be dangerous…” Sevika internally cringes at the shit excuse.

“Fuck off.” You mutter and walk faster but she keeps up.

“Hey, hey, hey. Wait.” She grabs your arm. You shove her off with a glare.

“Have you forgotten you ended things, not me. You have no place to care what I do unless you have changed how you feel about a relationship.” You say angrily. Sevika goes quiet. She knows she hasn’t changed on that. She knows she is not stable enough in anyway to be in a relationship. Probably never will be. But she can’t control the jealousy that bubbles.

“Well…” She sighs and goes quiet.

“Don’t worry. I put my 2 weeks in at The Last Drop. You won’t have to see me anymore.” You say as you start walking again. That threw Sevika off. She follow you quickly.

“What? But where are you going?” She asks with wide eyes.

“I’m not telling you.” You scoff. “Leave it, Sevika. It's for the best, remember?” She stops as she looks at you with a frown. You give her a look before leaving her behind.

~~~

You had started your new job and loved it. It was a small business. You worked with a lot of mechanics. Fixing things. You grasped it quickly. You were fixing a clock when you hear the bell above the door.

“One moment!” You call out. You tighten a screw before getting up and turning around, eyes widening when you are face to face with the customer.

Sevika.

Navigation

[killiaia]

Daddy and Mommy

Rosé x Male reader. 1.9K words

TW : A lot of Daddy and Mommy kinks. A lot of Breeding. Sorry not sorry.

--------------------------

"Why are you looking at me like that? " Rosé asks.

"Because I want to fuck you right now. "

Rosé blushes immediately. You see Rosé clench her thighs.

'Seriously, I could get down on my knees and eat your pussy."

Rosé lets out a moan, which makes you smile. 

You're at her parents' house on vacation. Everything's just perfect. It's a change for you, this being your first vacation in years. With the army and missions abroad, you never had time to take a vacation.

But here you are in Australia with Rosé. Her family is great, but you didn't expect her whole family to be there, which leaves you with very little time together. And you don't know what's going on with you right now, but you really want to fuck Rosé. 

"Soon. " Whispers Rosé. "Tonight, I've reserved a restaurant and a hotel room just for the two of us." 

"That's my good girl. "

Rosé looks around and whispers.

' I'm daddy's good girl. "

----

You follow Rosé into the restaurant and sure enough, it's a fancy restaurant. The kind of restaurant you know you could never afford. Rosé pulls you by the hand and you let yourself be guided. 

Rosé has put on a beautiful black dress that shows off her long legs. You put on a shirt and jeans that Rosé bought for you. 

You sit down at a secluded table towards the back of the restaurant. The waiter arrives, hands you your menus and leaves.

"I think even if I saved my whole life, I'd never be able to afford this restaurant. "You say.

"That's why I'm here. "

"In that case, you're my Sugar Mommy."

You look at the menu again, but you haven't missed Rosé's reaction to her nickname.

"What?" you say, eyes glued to the menu. "Do you like it when I call you Mommy?"

Rosé blushes and shifts in her seat.

"I think it's a good nickname for you. You pay me a lot of things Mommy."

"Baby... "

"What? That's right." You answer. "So tonight, Daddy's going to fuck Mommy."

"Oh god..."

"Daddy's gonna fill Mommy's pretty little pussy." you croon. 

"Baby.." whines Rosé. "Will you take care of me?"

"Of course. Daddy will start by fingering your pussy and then Daddy will eat your pussy."

"I'm so wet Daddy.. "

"I bet you are. If it were just me, I'd bend you over this table and fuck you like you deserve. "

Rosé's eyes darken and she closes the menu. 

"Let's get on with it. "

You don't argue and just follow Rosé. She apologizes to the waiter and you leave the restaurant.

"Mommy is so wet. " says Rosé as you get behind the wheel of the car. 

"Show me. " you say. 

Rosé flashes you a smile and spreads her legs, lifting up her dress. Her panties are soaked. Rosé runs a hand over them.

"So wet for my Daddy. "

"You're going to finger yourself the whole way to the hotel but don't make yourself come. "You order Rosé.

You start the car and out of the corner of your eye, you see Rosé take off her panties. The young woman starts by lowering her hand to her clit and begins to touch herself. 

"That's good, keep it up. " 

Encouraged by your words, Rosé begins to make circular movements on her clit. 

"Show me your breasts. "

Rosé listens and pulls down the top of her dress. You don't waste a minute and with one of your hands, you grab one of her breasts.

"Touch yourself. "

Rosé moans and inserts a finger into her pussy. You continue to knead her breast and pinch her nipples.

"Don't make yourself come. " You remind Rosé.

"Yeah.." pants Rosé 

"Good girl. " 

At the stoplight, you grab Rosé and kiss her. The young woman grabs your face and deepens the kiss. You smell her pussy on Rosé's finger. You grab her hand and lick her finger. Rosé's gaze is filled with desire. 

"Continue. " you say to Rosé.

The young woman listens and starts touching her clit again. Legs apart, breasts out, the view is just magnificent. Sincerely, it's very hard for you. If it were up to you, you'd park in an alley and fuck Rosé in the back seat.

"Daddy's gonna cum inside me?" Say Rosé 

"Yup, Daddy's gonna make you a Mommy."

"Fuuuck," says Rosé, fingering herself.

"We'll be there soon, get dressed Rosie. " 

"Yes Daddy. " 

Rosé gets dressed and you park the car in the hotel parking lot. Before getting out, you kiss Rosé. 

Rosé clings to your arm and you enter the hotel. Rosé asks for the room and you're given the key. You follow the Australian and get into the elevator. 

Rosé jumps on you and you slam her against the wall. You grab her face and deepen the kiss, your tongue forcing its way into her mouth. You run your hand down her dress and play with her clit.

"Oh god", says Rosé. 

You shut her up with a kiss and slip your hand into her panties. Without waiting, you stick a finger inside her.

"You're so tight and wet Rosie. "

"Only for you. "

You remove your finger from her pussy and lick your finger in front of Rosé, who moans. You help her get dressed and you get out of the elevator. 

Rosé gets out first and you can't help but tap her ass. Rosé turns and smiles at you. The young woman looks around and pulls up her dress, giving you a magnificent view of her ass and panties. 

"Open the door quickly, I'm going to fuck you like you deserve. "

Rosé opens the door and you follow immediately. No sooner has the door closed than Rosé is already naked.

"I need your cock. "

"Go lie down, I'll start by eating your pussy."

Rosé lets out a little cry of excitement and you watch the singer lie on her back and spread her legs. Her gaze anchored in yours, Rose brings her hand down and spreads the folds of her pussy.

"You have a beautiful pussy.

"I take care of it for you. Now is Daddy going to eat my pussy?"

"Daddy's going to eat your pussy," you confirm. "And then Daddy's gonna give you a big load so you can be a mommy."

You kneel on the edge of the bed and start kissing Rosé's beautiful legs. You take your time leaving kisses on every bit of skin on her leg. 

"Daddy, eat me. " Rosé is impatient.

"Be patient, baby. " You reply. 

You continue your oral assault on her legs. You slowly move up to her crotch and place a kiss on the tip of her crotch. Rosé shivers at the contact between your mouth and her pussy. 

Gently, you lick her clitoris, making Rosé jump with pleasure. You continue with a big lick from the bottom of her pussy to her clit. 

"It's so good." Shivers Rosé.

Encouraged by her words, you repeat the same gesture. You grab Rosé's legs and lift her pelvis. The position is embarrassing for her, she's so vulnerable like this but you don't give her time to respond, you start your assault on her pussy again.

"Oh god yes." 

You eat her pussy like it's your last feast. You spread the folds of her pussy with your hands and stick your tongue in her hole. 

Rosé is a mess. The young woman plays with her breasts.

You remove your tongue from her hole and replace it with your finger. You move back and forth and Rosé accentuates the movement with strokes of her pelvis.

"You're going to cum on my fingers like the little slut you are. "

"Oh yes. I'm your slut. "

"Cum slut! "

To accentuate your words, you plunge your mouth onto her clit. Rosé speeds up the movements of her pelvis and everything becomes the sound of your mouth against her pussy. Rosé lets out a high-pitched cry and you feel her juices flow into your mouth. Rosé's legs start to tremble and you grab her to lay her gently against the bed.

"Are you okay?" you ask Rose. 

Rosé lets out a nervous laugh, her legs still trembling, and you place a kiss on one of her legs.

"Yeah.." says Rosé softly. "First time I've come like this. "

You gently move up her body until you place a kiss on her mouth. Rosé wraps her arms around your neck and deepens the kiss.

"I love you. " Rosé suddenly says.

"I love you too, Rosie. More than anything. " You answer sincerely. 

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. " says Rosé between kisses.

You're caught up in a surge of excitement and love for Rosé. Instinctively, you penetrate the young woman, who lets out a cry of pleasure. 

It's almost bestial. Your thrusts are powerful, shaking the bed. You continue to kiss her and Rosé pulls you towards her. All your weight is on her, but the young woman doesn't care. She's so taken with pleasure. 

The young woman lifts her legs, giving you a new angle of penetration. You grab her young ones, bringing them towards her. You stop kissing her to dot her neck with kisses. You suck her earball, increasing the pleasure. Rosé scratches your back. 

"Fuck me! Cum inside me! Make me a mommy."

"You're going to take my load. You're going to be so full. "

"Fill me up. Breed me. " Said Rosé.

"Get on all fours. I want to fuck you from behind. " You command her.

Rosé listens and the young woman gets down on all fours. You can't get enough of the view.

With her hands, she spreads her buttocks, giving you a view of her holes. With your hand, you caress her pussy and Rosé shivers at the contact. 

"What a beautiful pussy you have. " 

"Just for my Daddy. "

"That's right, that pretty and pretty ass is all mine. "

With your finger, you stroke her asshole as you position your cock in front of her pussy hole.

You slide your cock against her pussy.

"So wet. Just for me. "

"Put it in. " Rosé begs you.

"Ask nicely. "

" Put your dick in me Daddy. Smash my pussy."

You start by gently inserting the tip of your cock but Rosé is impatient. With a single thrust, her pussy engulfs your cock, taking you by surprise. You let out a moan of pleasure, Rosé's pussy is so tight.

"What a bad girl. " you say.

Rosé doesn't answer you. The young woman fucks herself on your cock.

"Bad girls deserve punishment. "

You raise your hand and slap her ass. Rosé lets out a cry of pleasure. You keep slapping her ass, increasing the Australian's pleasure.

"Keep fucking yourself. "

You grab her hair and pull it toward you, arching her back. With your other hand, you slap her ass.

"I'm going to cum. " Says Rosé.

You let go of her hair and put all your weight on her. You accentuate the thrusts and whisper in her ear.

"Come Mommy."

It's the final straw for Rose. You feel Rosé's vaginal walls contract around your cock. Rosé begins to tremble and lets out a hoarse cry of pleasure. 

You continue to thrust, determined to cum too. Rosé has understood your intention and continues to move her pelvis.

"Come inside me. Make me a mommy."

Almost like an animal, you give one last thrust and come in the Australian.

Completely exhausted, you drop onto Rosé. Breathing hard, you kiss Rosé's back. You pull out of her and see your cum coming out of her.

"I hope I'm pregnant. "

Rosé turns her head towards you and kisses you lovingly. 

"You'd make such a wonderful father. "

"If we have a child, he or she will be so lucky to have you as their mother. "

"I love you so much. " Rosé kisses you.

"More than anything. " You reply, looking at her lovingly.

[pupyuj]

[cw: g!p yujin (nobody’s surprised), puppy hybrid!yujin, puppy kink (duh), breeding, masturbation, praise kink, anal, oral fixation, breeding kink]

look at these pics and tell me she isn’t the most puppy idol ever 🤨🤨 i am going back to half of my roots and writing about pup hybrid yuj to get a momentum going 🤩💕 and the other half the roots in question⁉️ look at my pfp. MAYBE WE’LL GET JOCK!YUJ AFTER??? WINK WONK 😍🥰❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

yujinnie being your helpless whelp of a roommate who turns out to be a pup who has conveniently gone into a rut when you got home ☺️☺️

the moment you entered your shared apartment and didn’t find yujin snacking on some cereal while binge-watching some random show on the tv, you knew something was up! it was rare for her to not be waiting for you when you happened to be away—you have grown close over the years after all, it was only natural for her to be so clingy towards you 🥺 even when you called out to her, she didn’t come running! you figured she must be in the shower, which was a shame considering you had bought her favourite food and intended to share it with her over wine and a 90s romcom movie 😣😣 and you even got matching sweaters for the two of you! no matter tho you were just going to leave that gift on her bed and invite her over to the dining table after she’s finished… until you figured out that she wasn’t in the shower at all 🫣

with her door being haphazardly half-open and yujin herself being so loud that you can hear her from on top of the stairs even though her room was at the end of the hallway… yeah, you didn’t have to guess what the fuck she was doing in there! 🤭 ugh as perverted it was, you couldn’t help but be curious! hell, it wasn’t everyday you see this side of yujin… so why not take advantage of it?! and so you peek through the small crack her door had offered and there your roommate was… grinding on her pillow so desperately with her puppy ears and tail—how cute!

wait a minute… ears and tail? unfortunately you didn’t have much time to process that no, your roommate did not stop by a sex toy shop to buy fake puppy ears and a tail butt plug and that she is an actual puppy bcs yujin could smell your scent from a mile away! 😭 her mind was just so clouded that she couldn’t stop herself before she got caught :(( yujin, looking at you so shocked but all of that was quickly replaced with lust bcs she needed your help‼️‼️ there was no time for explanation nor to feel ashamed or anything of the sort—she needed to breed. breed you, specifically.

and oh! she was so pitiful ☹️☹️ looking at you with teary eyes and the cutest pout ever while she pleads 🥺 “(y/n), p-please…! i need help. j-just this once, i p-promise…” aww… there was no way you could say no to that face! and she was so nice about it too, it was practically impossible to turn away! ugh seeing her tail wag as you approached her melted your heart… but you found yourself rather surprised to see a wet little spot on her short, as well as her rock-hard bulge poking out 🫣 yujinnie being so adorable with her red cheeks as she tries to hide the fact that she was so horny even just a little bit.. but then you climbed onto the bed and sat across from her, all the more ready to give her what she wants and there she sat, so desperate to just have you ride her already but yujinnie knew she had to be patient! bad pups get punished after all!

“let me see it, yuj-ah,” you said as you tugged on the waistband of her shorts, looking at yujin in such a way that had her folding and obeying you immediately 🥺🥺 yujinnie eagerly slipping out of her shorts and underwear, revealing her cock, already so wet with precum you could practically take her without any lube! and it didn’t look like she intended to use any precautions bcs she just pulls on your shirt and purses her lips at you 🥺 “hm?” ofc you’d act all clueless just to tease her 🤭🤭 you ignored yujinnie’s whining and just went ahead and took her cock in your hand,, and suddenly, yujin just opted to sit back and not rush into anything! ☺️

“i knew you were big but fuck… i can barely close my hand around this,” you said as you slowly jerked her off, eyes boring into yujin’s soul while the pup helplessly moans into the air. and is she… yup, she’s drooling‼️ “you must’ve wanted this a long time, huh? poor girl… you should’ve said something! i wouldn’t have taken so long to go home if you just told me you needed to use me…” grabbing her chin and wiping the drool off with your thumb only for you to shove it inside her mouth, and yujinnie eagerly sucked on it!! “you really are like a puppy, huh?” you’d asked all amused while yujin made a mess on your hand.. she really can’t help it! :((

oh she just looked so cute with her little puppy ears that you had to grab her face with both hands and kiss her! as much as yujin loved the way your lips taste, she has to cum inside you before she goes insane‼️‼️ her pulling you to her lap, squeezing your ass and whining as you grinded on her 🫣 what you didn’t expect was yujin laying you down and mounting over you, practically ripping your shorts and panties off 🤭 still though, yujinnie would still have the time to admire your cunt.. licking her lips and getting impossibly harder at the thought of breeding you full of her pups 🫣🫣 but then she gets the genius idea of grabbing your waist and turning you over.. not even giving you a heads up before she inserts her throbbing cock inside you… her moaning so loudly at how good it feels and how your tight hole completely sucked her cock in 😣

ugh god she was so big that it would take a while until she was completely inside you… feeling so full that you can barely comprehend what was happening but yujin helped with that!! her thrusts being so overwhelming—deep and fast—that you had to try and get her under control :(( from what you could see (which wasn’t a lot), yujinnie had completely let her lust take over that she was hurting you in more ways than one 😣 her nails deep enough in your hips to draw blood, her other hand pinning one of your wrists down on the mattress so you could barely move.. grip so tight you thought she was going to break you 😓 “slow.. slow down…! yujin—it hurts…!” and thank goodness she hears your pleas! ofc yujinnie does what you asked of her.. even leaning down to your ear and apologizing 🥺

now it was sweeter! ☺️ her thrusts were just as deep but they were slower.. a lot more gentle bcs ykw yujinnie wants you to feel good too! and she knew she was doing something right when you started meeting her thrusts.. “go on, yujin-ah.. faster.” ah, that’s what she was waiting for! yujin making sure that you feel every inch of her cock, thrusting as deep as she can.. your moans were music to her ears—she has to hear more!

“a-ah… ah! good… good dog,” your praises only encourage yujin to do better 🥺🥺 bcs all puppy girls want to be is be good to their owner 🫣 and aww, you’d find her hugging you and burying her face on the crook of your neck as she fucked you, finding it a bit overwhelming to feel so good… reaching behind and patting the back of her head, letting her know that she’ll be okay and that she’s doing so well! “mmh… y-you gonna cum inside me, puppy? hm?” all you heard for a response was a moan.. cute, but no good 🤭

grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging on it slightly, making her meet your eyes from the mirror she had across the bed, “words.”

yujin, terrified of messing up, of course nods eagerly. “y-yes! yes.. i’ll—fuck..!—i’ll cum inside you… i will..” that was the plan anyway 🫣💕

“of course you will. good girl.”

firm believer that puppy!yujin doesn’t simmer down so easily 🤭🤭 even when she has filled your hole full of her seed, she wouldn’t get enough! so expect to be spun around again, this time she’s fucking you while facing her… so she can see your pretty face while she abuses your cunt and fills you up again… yujin becoming sensitive everywhere while she’s in this state :(( you’d reach out and touch her tits while she’s above you and she’d whine so loudly :((( she’s so adorable trying to gain control over you but she was so in over her head that she melts every time you do anything, even though she was the one doing the fucking…

ah, and you’d definitely wake up to yujin laying on top of you, somehow sucking on your nipples as she slept peacefully with her puppy ears laying flat on her head so adorably… but she would definitely get hard as soon as she opens her eyes, all the more ready to be a good pup again 💓💓

[amourrs]

you're such a fucking tease, you know that? with ellie williams pretty please 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

thank you angel!! — one where you wear ellie’s flannel and neither of you actually end up leaving the house (fem!reader, smut 18+, ai audios at the end, 2.2k)

You’re supposed to leave by nine, so of course Ellie gets out of the bathroom at quarter past.

It’s not the first time she’s made the pair of you run late. You’ve learned not to let it bother you like it used to though, because it’s not personal so much as it’s just shitty time management. Anyway, it’s not like you’re going anywhere fancy- just to the local Starbucks because you really want your first pumpkin spice latte of the season- but like, still. Surely everyone knows the rules: obey the timings of the pumpkin spice latte, or get cursed by the latte gods.

The sound of the toilet door clicking shut has you springing off the bed, eyes zeroing in on Ellie’s car keys on the bedside table as she bounds into the room, feet springing with every step.

“Pumpkin spice latte day— can I get a woop woop?”

Truthfully, you both know that Ellie couldn’t really care less about the seasonal drinks at Starbucks. It was more about making you happy- just like all the times she bought an iced brown sugar oatmilk shaken espresso because you were going through the Starbucks drive through and refused to get anything unless Ellie did too, because you “didn’t want to drink alone”, a sentiment she rolled her eyes at but still never challenged (which may have something to do with the fact that she orders her drink in a venti and adds two pumps of vanilla, because she secretly loves the silly little coffee just as much as you do— not that you could torture that information out of her, of course.)

You turn around with a smile, smoothing out your skirt as you look into your girlfriend’s eyes for the first time since she’s entered the room. The checkered black and red button up over your shoulders shifts as you move and you suddenly notice Ellie’s smile drop as her eyebrows arch to the very top of her forehead. Instantly you’re overtaken by a sense of complete bewilderment. That is, until you catch the glint in her eye as she slowly takes in your outfit, an expression of utter lovesickness working its way onto her face.

“Is that my flannel?”

It’s hard to bite back a grin as your girlfriend’s hand comes up to cup your face and she presses a kiss to your forehead, but you manage to do it anyway. You’ve borrowed Ellie’s clothes before— usually sort of ratty t-shirts you tend to sleep in, or oversized hoodies that smell like home— and yet every time she sees you in something that’s hers, it seems to melt her heart into a gooey puddle just as quickly as if it were the first time.

“Yeah, but I can take it off if you want,” you tease, hands sliding down until your arms are looped messily around your girlfriend’s waist and you can tug her in closer for a proper kiss. What starts off slow quickly turns messy as Ellie’s enthusiasm begins to shine through in her technique or lack thereof as the kiss deteriorates into a chaos of tongues and teeth and clashing (not that you mind, of course).

“Eh, maybe you should take it off. Red isn’t really your look,” Ellie jokes, eyes glinting at her own terrible attempt at humour. You go to roll your eyes but you’re caught off guard as an overzealous movement causes her leg to nudge hard into yours and you both fall backwards onto the bed, you trapped underneath her as you try in vain to extricate yourself from the tangled mess of her gangly limbs. Ellie makes no effort to help you— in fact, she seems to relish in the fact that you’re caged in by the lattice of her muscled arms as she gently reaches down to peck you on the lips. That one peck is of course followed by another, and another, and soon Ellie’s peppering kisses all over your face as you squeal and kick your legs.

“El, stop it. Thought we were gonna go to Starbucks and get pumpkin spice lattes,” you rebuke, head twisting until you can see the large clock over the door. You gasp as you catch sight of the long minute hand’s position. “It’s already half past! They’re probably all out of the pumpkin scones—” your complaints are cut off as Ellie returns to kissing your face again, lips smushing against yours in an almost aggressive display of affection.

“Fuck the pumpkin scones.”

Instantly your face takes on a mock-hurt expression that’s really only half a joke— not that Ellie seems to care. Her lips are already back at your temples and she’s smearing a little kiss on each side before she moves to pepper your cheeks.

“Don’t speak against the pumpkin scones. That’s blasphemy, El,” you remind her sternly, although it’s hard to keep your focus when her mouth is slowly sliding past your jawline and leaving little love bites along the column of your neck.

“M’sorry, babe. Let me make up for it, yeah?” Ellie teases, and that’s when you realise that somewhere in the midst of all the kisses Ellie’s hands have ventured under your shirt, running a hungry path from your waist to explore the expanse of your upper back. It’s impossible to contain the whine that’s begging to escape from your throat at the sensation of her warm fingers drawing circles against your skin, so you don’t. It spills into the air and Ellie laughs against your clavicle as she smears a kiss there. There’s something almost holy about the way she makes contact with you, the unbridled affection lathered in every touch as her fingers travel further upwards. You can tell when it registers in her brain that her hands had been able slide smoothly up your back with no obstruction, because she pulls back from where she’s been attacking your neck to let out a groan.

“Fuck, really? You were gonna go out without a bra on— and not tell me?” Mock betrayal saturates her words and you giggle, heart swelling about a trillion sizes as Ellie contorts her expression into a goofy frown. “S’not funny, baby,” your girlfriend complains, petulance colouring her words as she continues to keep up the facade of genuine annoyance, “what if some stranger decided to eye up the girls?”

“Oh my God, Ellie. I told you to stop calling them that.”

“They’re my girls!” she defends, eyes narrowing. “What else am I supposed to call them?”

“Thought I was your girl,” you say loftily, eyes flicking to Ellie’s panicked face.

“You are— I mean, they are— oh, fuck it,” she grumbles, hands coming up to slip the flannel right off your shoulders. There’s a pop as she pulls at the neckline impatiently and a few buttons launch themselves off of the shirt and hit the opposite wall. Your mouth falls open in shock.

“Ellie,” you admonish, “you really shouldn’t— oh, fuck!” A broken moan tears itself from your throat as you look down to see Ellie’s mouth circling your tit. She looks up for a moment in satisfaction at the sound, preening at the little gasps that continue to fall from your lips as you clutch at the sheets for purchase, before she buries her face back into your cleavage. Her hand comes up from your waist to pinch at your nipple as you whine, back arching up as you chase the stimulation.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” Ellie groans, head popping up like a jack-in-the-box as her lips chase yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as you kiss her back with just as much passion. “You know I can’t resist you in my clothes. Think you planned this on purpose, baby. If you wanted me to fuck you, you shoulda just told me, yeah? Don’t have to act like a little slut to get my attention.” The meanness in Ellie’s words has you keening, hips rocking up into her thigh of their own accord as warm arousal kindles in your belly.

“M’sorry,” you practically sob, hips still rolling upwards in desperate search of relief. “Ellie, please.” Your doe-eyed pleading expression clearly has your desired effect because suddenly Ellie’s hands are tightening around your waist and you find your positions flipped. Now the auburn haired girl lies beneath you, your legs wrapped directly around either side of her muscular thigh as she raises her eyebrow expectantly.

“Well, go on then,” she prompts, jolting her leg slightly to send a wave of pleasure through you as the rough denim of her jeans grazes at your clit through your panties. You wriggle your hips around slightly but you can’t find a rhythm that works, your legs growing painfully stiff within about two minutes of moving. “C’mon, babe,” Ellie tuts, hands reaching for your waist. “Tired already?”

“Hurts,” you moan, the puppy dog eyes coming back out in full force again. “El. Need you to help me, Ellie, please, I can’t and—”

You’re cut off by Ellie’s snide laugh. Dragging your eyes up to her face, you notice for the first time just how turned on she really is. Her pupils are blown so wide that her green irises are more like tiny, paper thin borders around the dilated black circles, her hair slightly dampened to her temples by sweat as she continues to chuckle at your dilemma. There’s just something about how fucking desperate you look that gets her going, makes her long to sink her canines into your neck and then tongue gently over the mark left behind, lips peppering up the column of your throat as an apology— and so she does it. It’s a nice juxtaposition to her recent meanness, reminiscent of the earlier affections which got you into this predicament in the first place, the sweetness of it making you let out a little whimper from the hollows of your chest. The sound tugs on Ellie’s heartstrings and she begins to relent, hands sliding down from where they’re snaked around your waist to find a home at the base of your hips instead.

“Okay, pretty girl, I know,” she soothes, mouthing gently at your neck still as you keen in anticipation of her movement, “I know, Ellie’s got ya. Gonna make you feel so good, yeah?” She doesn’t give you a chance to answer before she’s rocking her thigh in even motions, her hands helping your hips to tilt with the movement as your clothed cunt slides back and forth across the muscled surface. A sigh of relief spills from you as the long-awaited friction finally begins to build and you wrap your arms around Ellie’s neck, smushing your lips against hers. A pretty strawberry toned blush creeps up from your girlfriend’s neck to colour her cheeks, freckles highlighted against the surface of her skin as she attempts to hide the dopey smile that wants to make itself known on her face.

“What was that for, huh?”

“Love you,” you pant, Ellie’s hands moving faster as she bounces her thigh now, racing to give you the release you’ve been craving for the past half an hour. You shift your weight slightly and suddenly there’s a delicious pressure on your clit as it catches against the seam of Ellie’s jeans through the soaked fabric of your underwear. You moan out instantly, head tipping forward to crash into the curve between her shoulder and her neck as your hands rake across the rippled expanse of her back.

“Love you too, honey. How much d’you wanna bet that you’ll cum in the next five minutes?” You look back up to glare at her, mock offense painted across your tired features. “Or not,” Ellie rectifies quickly, a guilty look on her face as she tries not to laugh at your (quite frankly ridiculous) expression.

True to Ellie’s suspicions, it only takes you three more minutes to announce that you’re close, nails digging crescent moons into the pale skin of her shoulders.

“Ellie—”

“I know, baby,” comes her strained response, trying her hardest not to come in her pants at the way you’re whining her name. Instead, she settles for dropping her hand down to the point where your pussy drips all over her thigh, deft fingers flipping up your skirt and applying the perfect amount of pressure to your swollen clit. “Gonna cum for me, honey?”

“Oh, fuck—” you’re sobbing as your high crests over you, legs shaking as Ellie’s thumb continues to draw tight circles onto your sensitive bud until you have to physically push her away, body flopping down onto the bed in sheer exhaustion as Ellie leaves the room. You remain in that position until you hear your girlfriend call your name, your head swivelling up to meet her soft smile as she gently begins to clean you with a damp washcloth, taking extra care as you hiss when she bumps against your still overstimulated clit. You can tell there’s something on her mind as she grins to herself, and you can’t help but ask, even though you know you’ll probably regret it. “What’s up with you, weirdo?”

She looks up at you. “Huh?”

“You’re smiling like you just won a contest.” Ellie hums noncommittally and returns to her gentle ministrations with the flannel between your thighs until, finally, the question that she’s been holding back since the second you came spills out of her:

“Bet you’re not thinking about that fucking pumpkin scone now, huh?”

(You were, in fact, thinking about that fucking pumpkin scone. Not that you could torture that information out of you, of course.)

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing — CM Punk ♥︎ f!Reader 🖤 Summary — Sequel to I Want It. Punk discovers Paul Heyman’s daughter used to be involved with Logan Paul. Punk reacts as expected. 🖤 Word Count — 6.2k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Age gap (she is twenty-something, he’s forty-something), Daddy kink, dirty talk, name calling, oral (f receiving), somnophilia, unprotected p in v, toxic relationship, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes — Shoutout to @caramara3 for all the ideas and listening to me whine AND reading this before I posted. Thank you so much for putting up with me! 🖤 Taglist — If you’d like to be added, please click here!  🖤 MASTERLIST

Wake me up when you get here. 

Oh, he planned to do just fucking that, he thought, grinning wildly, tooth-gap on full display as he strolled down the hotel hallway toward his room. Inserting the card key into its slot, he entered the dark room, allowing the door to click closed softly behind him. Her iPad, propped up on the nightstand, was playing an episode of her favorite television show, silhouetting her body as she slept soundly on her side, facing away from him. He dropped his bag in the closet before lifting his hoodie over his head, tossing the garment onto the bag. He toed off his sneakers in the same place, smelling her shampoo and her body wash and her lotion because they all had very different, very distinctive scents—she must have showered while he’d been gone—and he suddenly didn’t have time to remove anything else.

He crawled slowly onto the bed behind her, holding himself up on his hands and knees as he nuzzled her neck, inhaling all of her fragrances. She snored softly, and Punk breathed a laugh against her hair—when this girl slept, she slept hard. And he’d taken advantage of this fact on more than one occasion, just like he would take advantage tonight. He’d done it before with a couple other women with mixed results, but he honestly didn’t care whether they liked it or not. Because he loved it. A sleeping woman was beautiful, sexy, an air of innocence surrounding her as she breathed evenly, utterly ignorant to the predator stalking her, who had intentions less pure than that of the devil himself.

“Are you awake, kitten?” he asked, expecting and receiving only more tiny snores. He licked at her neck, chasing those sweet scents, his hand sliding down her side to her ass barely covered in a pair of soft shorts. She gave no indication she was conscious, and Punk kissed her shoulder, her arm, the tips of his hair grazing her skin as his mouth traveled down her body. “Daddy’s home,” he grinned wickedly, mischievous eyes lifting to search her face as he tenderly maneuvered her onto her back for easier access to everything. She may sleep hard, but that was no reason to be careless with her or rough, no reason to tempt fate, no reason to see just how much he could get away with before she woke up.

Punk shuffled the blankets toward the bottom of the bed where he sat back on his heels for a moment, head tilted, hands on his thighs, and simply watched her. She wore one of his white merch shirts with the sleeves deeply cut out, the outer curves of her breasts on full display, and sometimes he found that sexier than if he were seeing the whole set. The bottom of the shirt had ridden up, giving him a view of her belly button piercing, his cock twitching at the dangling diamond jewelry he’d bought for her recently, at the memory of removing the old one and inserting the new one and how fucking hard that simple act had made him. 

“Look how cute,” she’d gushed before sifting her fingers through Punk’s hair, and he’d kissed the diamonds before raising his eyes to hers. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Punk was on his hands and knees again, hands on either side of her hips. “You’re welcome, Peach,” he’d replied. The shy smile she’d given him had been so fucking precious, and Punk’s heart throbbed now at the memory just as it had in the moment. Nicknames, diamond jewelry, installing a tracking app on her phone so he knew where she was at all times, and suddenly it had become more than just fucking between them. Or had it been like this since the beginning?

Forcing himself out of the memory and back into the present, his wolfish eyes gazed at the diamonds by the light of the iPad as he lowered his head, swiping his tongue along the accessory. As his cock strained against his jeans, he sat up so he could pull her shorts and panties down her legs and off, careful not to remove the strangely sexy, huge fuzzy socks on her feet. And there she was, his very favorite peach, the sweetest, tightest, goddamn prettiest pussy he’d ever seen, and that included in real life and in porn, and he got to feast on it any time he damn well pleased. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, his long body stretching out behind him, hips instantly rolling against the mattress, though it provided only a minimal amount of relief. 

He slid the tip of his nose from the bottom of her clit to the top, eyes closing as he inhaled, easily overdosing on her feminine aroma. His tongue snaked out of his mouth to replace his nose, flicking over the little nub, and then his lips wrapped around it and he sucked ever so carefully, reverently. And he didn’t regret molesting her while she slept, or tracking her whereabouts, or watching her from a dark corner to be sure she was safe and she wasn’t doing anything he deemed wrong because this cunt was worth every diabolical sin he ever had or would ever commit.

He had her dripping down his beard in no time, his dick promising to bust through his jeans at any moment as his tongue worked overtime, and she still slept, though she was becoming a bit restless. Her satiny legs moved and stretched around him, arms twisting under her pillow as her back arched, sending one of her breasts popping out the side of the sleeveless shirt. Punk smirked, nibbling her clit and reaching up to cup the bare breast, gently groping, scraping the pad of his thumb over the hardening nipple—that got him a teeny, tiny mewl, but then her body relaxed and she let out a breath and she was off to dreamland once more. Punk chuckled, hot air rushing over her soaked pussy, causing it to clench, and he was done with this fucking foreplay. He sat up on his knees, pulling the button of his jeans through its loop, lowering the zipper, and he pulled his weeping cock out, jaw clenching to keep from moaning as he gave it a few hard strokes. He could still taste her on his lips, smell her in his beard and mustache, as he reached up to expose her other breast in the same manner as its twin.

“Wore this just for Daddy, didn’t you?” Punk uttered, tweaking the nipple gingerly, and she produced a defiant whine this time, and even in her sleep, she was a goddamn brat. “Shut up,” he groused, massaging the unyielding head of his cock along her slippery slit before sliding slowly inside her tight hole, inside heaven itself.

Her spine bowed again, a complete groan escaping her lips as she tried to close her knees against the foreign intrusion, but Punk grabbed her thighs and held them apart, his dick jolting within her as he continued on. Her eyes fluttered, hands coming out from under the pillow to blindly shove at whomever was assaulting her, obviously disoriented, and Punk, always the clever predator, slammed the iPad down on its screen to extinguish the light, making it even more difficult for her to figure out what was going on. He snatched her wrists mid-air, her hands instantly making fists, and he slammed them above her head, at the same time fully immersing himself inside her. The groan he released was savage, vibrating the both of them, and he finally draped his long, hard body over hers, every muscle in his arms flexing as she fought him, his waist too close to hers for her legs to do any damage, and the more she fought, the tighter she became. He didn’t notice the vicious smile splitting his lips—and she couldn’t see anything at all in the pitch black of the hotel room—when he tucked his face into her neck, clamping his teeth onto her sleek skin. 

“Punk?” she panted, and he basked in the sensation of her nipples touching his chest every time she inhaled. “Daddy?” 

“It’s me, Peach,” he replied charmingly, as if moments ago he hadn’t been an unknown attacker, purposely darkening the room so it made it more difficult for her to figure out who was on top of her. Her legs were no longer trying to close, instead wrapping themselves around his trim waist, fuzzy socks locking at his lower back, but he refused to relinquish his vice-like grip on her wrists just yet. 

“What are you doing?” she quietly asked, finishing with a moan as Punk almost pulled his cock completely out of her cunt before thrusting back deep inside her.

“Just relax,” he coaxed. “Daddy’s using you right now.” He felt her cheek graze his as she nodded and let out a dainty breath that ghosted along his shoulder. She angled her hips, sucking Punk’s cock somehow further into her pussy, and they shared a moan. 

“I can smell my pussy on your beard,” she whispered, her lips rubbing along the salt and pepper stubble, and Punk lifted his head, their noses brushing. 

“I needed a late night snack,” Punk explained, rocking his hips into hers, her body moving in sync with his tempo. “And you know how I feel about peaches—”

His mouth covered hers, devouring her groan, and their kiss was feral, teeth-clacking, tongues wrestling, and it wasn’t about gaining dominance during something as simple as a kiss. No, it was about trying to taste her everywhere, lick her everywhere, feel every part of the inside of her mouth, memorize every tooth and taste bud. His thrusts came harder, faster, scratching that itch deep inside her as their lips moved together, perfectly in sync, her hips lifting to meet each pump. She was so fucking tight, so pretty, so trusting.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” she exhaled, breaking the kiss with a lewd, wet smack. 

Punk released one of her wrists so he could quickly lift the iPad back into its propped up position, coloring the room in ever shifting, dull shades of blues and whites. Her smooth lips were parted, cut up t-shirt gathered between her bouncing breasts, and maybe he shouldn’t have killed the light in the first place. He reclaimed her wrist, her skin still heated from his earlier grip, but she slipped through his grasp, and she intertwined their fingers instead, and he told himself the gesture meant nothing, that he was too lazy to rearrange his grip. 

Whatever the reason, he let her hold his hand.

“Look at me,” Punk commanded. She shook her head, brows arching, licking her lips, and then licking them again, except this time the tip of her tongue circled her lips, tasting the remnants of her pussy juices and his spit. He preferred when she obeyed, but her defiance turned him on, too, made his balls tighten and his lower back tingle. “Fucking look at me, you stupid slut.”

She cried out, squeezing his hand, and he thought for a moment he was going to have to tell her again, but then her glazed-over eyes popped open. Their gazes met, and another shout escaped her lips before her cunt pulsated around his cock. He’d wanted to last longer, to fuck her until she begged him to stop, until she couldn’t take it anymore, until she was either in too much pain or too overstimulated to the point of crying—fuck, he loved it when she cried, tears streaming pathetically down her beautiful face while she beseeched him to stop, to please let her live—but then her cunt was milking his cock, begging in its own way for a reward for being so good to him, for him. He unloaded suddenly deep inside her, hips stuttering, breath hitching, and he felt like maybe he died a little, but he never once broke the eye contact he’d demanded, and neither did she, despite their earth-shattering orgasms.

“Oh, my god,” she sighed, blatantly satisfied, and Punk released her wrist and hand one at a time so he could support his weight with one arm at all times—under his dead weight, she’d have surely been crushed. She instantly combed her fingers through his hair, Punk’s eyes closing as her manicured nails scratched along his scalp, and if she were a wrestler, this would be her finishing move. “Thanks for waking me up,” she giggled, pressing her lips to his for a kiss that lasted minutes. Minutes. Never once did he feel the urge to pull away or feed her some excuse as to why he needed to put space between them, and if the grip she had around his neck or the rolling of her hips against his were any indications, she wouldn’t have allowed him to separate them, anyway. 

“You’re welcome,” Punk replied, catching her contagious, after-sex smile. “I hope you’re ready to go back to sleep, though. We gotta get up early.”

The following day, the couple—oh, Jesus … are we a couple? Punk wondered—arrived at WWE Headquarters separately—Punk drove a rental, she always had a car service available to her—for a meeting organized by Triple H concerning the direction of the company. As CM Punk, and with a rock solid contract, he assumed the content wouldn’t have much to do with him, but his attendance was mandatory nonetheless. She was present as Paul Heyman’s protégé—the heir apparent—the future of what’s best for business. And before he made himself known to her, he watched her from afar, snapping photos as she chatted with talent, had a conversation with her father, and he even photographed her thumbs tapping away on her phone, seconds later receiving a text from her.

I know you’re here, the text said, and Punk’s eyes narrowed, glancing up at her. He was about to respond when another message came through. I can feel you watching me. 

Punk replied after a moment, sending one of the first pictures he’d taken of her so he could give her a rough idea just how long he’d been stalking her. His chartreuse eyes switched from his phone to her, standing in a corner across the room. 

She smiled upon receiving the message, chewing on her bottom lip as she quickly typed an answer. Now I’m wet, it said. 

“There’s my guy!” 

Punk glanced up at Paul Heyman as the shorter man approached him, joyful smile on his face, and then Punk’s eyes lowered to his phone once more when it vibrated.

You fucking creep, he read, hearing her taunt him in his head, her playful tone laced with lust and obscenity, and he almost reached down to adjust his tweaking dick, catching himself at the last second as Paul stood in front of him. Punk killed the screen on his phone and stuffed the device into his back pocket, crossing his sinewy, tattooed arms over his broad chest, preparing for either a famous Heyman lecture about this or that, or he was about to give Punk a sneak peek of what Triple H would shortly announce to everyone. The content didn’t matter—Punk couldn’t have cared less regardless—but he hated being interrupted, and the anger did well at suppressing his blooming arousal.

Once the actual meeting started, Punk parked his ass in the back row of chairs, sipping his coffee and scrolling his phone—it would be too risky to open that thread of messages while so many people were in such close proximity to him and could easily look over his shoulder. And then she was suddenly passing in front of him, a soft breeze of her perfume splashing across his face, and he inhaled until his lungs promised to explode, holding his breath as if the fragrance would have a mind-altering effect on him. She sat in the empty seat beside him, arching a brow as she glanced at him, a smile only for Daddy on her flawless lips.

As Triple H began speaking about whatever, Punk pretended to stretch in her direction, dropping an arm on the back of her chair. “You’re fucking killing me,” he breathed, glancing behind them as he spoke. 

She wasn’t as covert as he, simply leaning over closer to his ear as she whispered, “Sorry, Daddy.”

Punk looked at her as she pulled away, their eyes locked in yet another contest, and probably anyone who looked at them right now would be able to tell what was going on between them. There was a crackle in the ether surrounding them, tension so thick it was difficult to breathe, and although the eye contact succeeded only in further charging the air and condensing the passion between the old man and his pretty peach, neither of them broke it. Until— 

“So I want you all to give a warm welcome to Logan Paul!”

She blinked, the debauchery in her eyes from before replaced with unease and, what, fear? What had changed her mood so drastically and so quickly? He got his answer when she slowly turned her head to the podium, a snarl of disgust stealing her normally carefree smile and attitude. Punk followed her hardened gaze, watching as the doughebag “social media superstar” shook hands and hugged Triple H. Most of the people in attendance cheered or clapped, but the girl beside him looked as though she might throw up at any moment, and Punk wasn’t a fucking moron. 

“Tell me you didn’t date him,” he said, instantly wishing he could grab the spoken words and stuff them back down his throat. He hadn’t meant to say date—he didn’t care who she’d dated—he’d meant to say fuck. Because he did not care about her past boyfriends. He didn’t. She looked at him, once sparkling eyes having lost their light falling shamefully, and Punk needed to hurt someone. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it dating,” she quietly replied.

Punk’s eyes closed and he took several deep breaths in a futile attempt to cool the raging fire within. He'd have to process her prior taste in men at a later time—the utter devastation written across the pretty girl’s normally lighthearted face had his stomach in knots and his hands clenching into fists, unclenching, and repeating. He’d never seen her this way before, not even when the two of them argued, and he placed a hand over his aching chest as a memory flashed through his brain. 

“Sorry I woke you,” she’d said, watching as he climbed on the bed so he could reach the ceiling and slay the evil eight-legged imposter that’d had her screaming for help at three in the morning.  

“What do I always tell you?” Punk had asked, balling up the paper towel with the spider carcass, hopping off the mattress.

She’d smiled, clasping her hands behind her back as she’d closed the space between them. “Daddy will always take care of me,” she’d sweetly replied.

Sweet. She was sweet. What the fuck had she even been doing with that idiot in the first place? What the fuck was she doing with him?

“I’ll take care of you,” Punk suddenly said, speaking without thinking.

Her eyes rose to his. “What?” 

“It,” Punk immediately corrected. “I’ll take care of it.” 

“… There’s nothing to take care of.” 

“I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t bother you.”

She rolled her eyes, Punk resisting the urge to smack her thigh as punishment for the offending gesture. “Just leave it alone. You don’t even …” She shook her head. “Just leave it alone. Leave it alone, leave him alone, leave …” She trailed off.

Punk’s jaw tightened. “Leave you alone?” 

“Did I fucking say that?”

Punk was silent—she hadn’t said that, but she might as well have—as he faced his body forward, again folding his arms over his chest. The two of them endured the remainder of Logan Paul’s insufferable speech, neither of them speaking again or even looking at the other. Punk didn’t really know what the heart of the argument he’d started was. Jealousy—Logan was younger, probably had more stamina, and could probably keep up with her better than Punk could. Humiliation—Was Logan really the kind of guy she was attracted to and she was just fucking Punk until she found someone better? Fear—What had the newest member of the Raw roster done to his girl in the past? Or had it been a special cocktail of all three?

When the garbled speech finally ended, Punk jumped from his chair, intent on escaping in his rented SUV, but Paul Heyman stopped him, as well as his daughter, imploring them both to meet the latest superstar. Owing a lot to Paul, Punk allowed himself to be tugged in that direction, and because she was his offspring, Punk’s little peach couldn’t find it in her heart to deny him, either. On the upside, Punk would be able to gauge the energy between her and Logan, keeping his eyes peeled for knowing smiles or blushes or lip biting.

None of which happened. Punk almost wished they had. 

“Holy shit!” Logan shouted once he laid his eyes on Miss Heyman. Punk watched her as she forced a smile but refused to make any sort of eye contact with the blonde moron. “I didn’t know you worked here!”

She blinked. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t know that,” she replied, looking everywhere but at Logan’s face.

Punk’s emerald eyes switched to the influencer as he shrugged. “I just don’t think about you, you know,” he said. Punk licked his lips, chewing the bottom one, tasting copper. “I mean, I don’t think about you in WWE.” He wasn’t trying to correct himself, and suddenly Punk’s vision was stained crimson, hands forming fists again. Who the fuck did this kid think he was? He turned his attention to the Second City Saint, extending his hand, and it took several moments for Punk to force his hand to shake Logan’s. He squeezed, hard, forbidding Logan to let go, and just as the kid’s face began to morph into worry, the girl with the dangling diamond belly button ring cleared her throat, diverting Punk’s attention and reminding him with her eyes not only who he was, but where he was. He was about to release Logan’s hand when the younger man pulled him in for a hug and whispered in his ear, “I act like I don’t remember her, but I do, and if you get the chance, you should hop on that.” Punk’s eyes glazed over, his entire body stiffening. “She’s a freak, bro.” The words were enough to set Punk’s blood boiling, but the fact that this kid just told a stranger, a coworker, that Paul Heyman’s daughter was a freak added fuel to the fire. Was he trying to impress Punk? Make a new fucking friend? And who else would he tell before he even got out of the building? Who else had he told already? 

“Ah, fuck,” Punk sighed, his momentary shock allowing Logan to remove his hand from Punk’s grasp and put some distance between them before Punk made a decision. 

“Punk.” His sweet, precious, little peach. He looked down at her, a foot, if not more, shorter than him, who loved to brush her fingers through his hair and was the reason he’d started growing it out in the first place, and he needed to hurt someone. “Don’t,” she warned, with zero conviction in her voice. Maybe she knew he wouldn’t listen, maybe she wanted him to hurt someone but she had to pretend to try and stop him. 

“What’s going on?” her father asked, making his presence known.

Punk gazed down at her, hands on his hips, and he knew very well there would be consequences for his actions, but he was prepared to face them head on. There would be consequences for her, as well, possibly, and still it wasn’t enough to hold him back. He tilted his head, pursing his lips, caressing her cheek with his thumb, fingers tickling her neck, and he turned around, stomping after Logan. He grabbed the new hire’s shoulder and spun him, Logan caught off guard, and Punk reeled back and got off a clean, hard punch to the asshole’s face. Punk followed him as he fell, straddling Logan with a knee on the floor and the other leg stretched out as he held him down with one hand and punched him repeatedly with the other. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Punk yelled, pausing the battery just so he could point at the beaten man under him. “Not one more goddamn word about her.” The hand holding Logan down went to his throat, and his voice was somehow much calmer than before. “Do you understand me?” Gentler still. 

“What the fuck, bro?” Logan yelled, doing his best to fight back, but Punk had gained the upper hand early and never released it. 

“I’m not your bro. Son. Stay the hell away from her. And keep her name out of your dumb fucking mouth.”

Punk finally climbed off him. Adrenaline surged through his veins, masking any pain, but he knew Logan had gotten a few lucky punches in while defending himself, though any bruises or black eyes were the least of his concerns. As he searched the surrounding crowd for the entire reason for his outburst, his heart accelerated when he realized she was nowhere to be found. Had she really left? He thought maybe she’d want to watch him beat someone’s ass for real, but evidently he was wrong. And as his eyes passed over the various attendees, he came to Paul Heyman who was still standing nearby, eyeing him suspiciously, and oh, that’s probably why she hadn’t stuck around.

Punk sighed, carding his fingers through his hair in case it had been mussed during the fight, and he wished it were her hands fixing his hair. “Paul,” he said.

Paul watched Punk a moment, Punk massaging his throbbing hand. “Punk,” he  eventually said, passing his old client without another look. Punk wasn’t sure what any of it meant, but since it was his life, he figured it would be bad.

Only capable of handling one problem at a time, Punk chose the most important. As Triple H was headed his way, Punk slithered throughout the crowd, bobbing and weaving, successfully escaping WWE Headquarters without being stopped. Shaking his throbbing hand, Punk drove quickly and erratically back to the hotel, having no idea what he might find when he got there. Would she be in their room? Did she book another hotel? Was she on her way to the airport to board a fucking jet? 

“Goddamn it,” he exhaled. No answers, only more questions. What other influencers had she slept with? Celebrities? Younger men she could compare him to? 

Fuck, he clearly wasn’t built for a relationship, much less a relationship with a woman twenty years younger than him, but he still pulled the SUV into the parking lot of the hotel they’d stayed in. He still took the elevator to their floor and he still jogged down the hallway to the correct door. He remembered making this trip the night prior, how excited he’d been, how amazing it had turned out, neither of them having any idea what was in store for them the next day. He pulled the key card out of his pocket, paused briefly, and inserted it, dropping his forehead against the door when the light turned red. He tried again just for the hell of it with the same result, and he tossed the useless card over his shoulder. 

“Peach,” Punk said. “Sweetheart, you in there?”

Silence. 

“I, uh—” He chuckled, though nothing about this was even remotely funny. “Look, I’m not sorry for kicking that kid’s ass. He had it comin’.”

Silence. 

“What did you want me to do?” Punk asked, hands on the doorframe. “He was gonna tell—”

The door opened without warning. “You don’t know that, old man!” his sweet peach yelled. “And now we’ll never know!” 

“Okay,” Punk said, holding a hand up, smiling at the sheer audacity of the entire situation, at her thinking that loser wouldn’t tell more people what he’d told Punk, or something worse. A smile that dropped instantly when she shoved him backward, heels of her hands on his chest, sending him stumbling into the hallway. 

“But you just couldn’t help yourself,” she went on. “And now my dad’s gonna know about us!”

Punk looked at her a moment before stomping across the hall, bound to enter the room and force her to have a conversation instead of a screaming match, but once he was close enough, he felt the smack before he even saw her hand. His cheek exploded, a surprising amount of power inside this tiny girl, and he lost his balance but was able to turn in a circle instead of face-planting. As he came around to face her again, opposite hand cradling his stinging cheek, lopsided smirk tilting his beard and mustache, he started inside again. She was able to close the heavy door before he could cross the threshold, turning the deadbolt even though she didn’t have to. The lock clicking heavily into place seemed to echo throughout his brain, Punk laughing again, however inappropriately, and he pounded on the door more out of irritation than anything else. Here he was, an old fucking man, too tired and, well, old for this shit, but he was still making an effort, trying to talk through things when he otherwise would have just said fuck it and been on his way. He was going to have to accept sooner rather than later that his life would be very different from here on out.

Maybe, he thought. If she ever opens the goddamn door!

Punk sighed, his body rolling along the door as he put his back to it before sliding down until his ass met the hard, ugly carpet he swore was the same at every hotel he’d ever been to. He scratched at his beard, wincing from the slap a moment ago, and he wondered whether his skin would simply redden or if he’d wake tomorrow morning with a light bruise. Arching a brow, he glanced down the hallway upon hearing the elevator ding, the sound almost as loud as the deadbolt separating him from his peach. The one thing that could have made Punk’s day even worse rounded the corner, Paul Heyman strolling toward him, a savvy smile on his robust face. Punk bent his knees, resting his elbows on them, and he raised a hand to wave. 

“Paul,” he greeted.

Paul came to a stop a few feet away and leaned on the wall in front of his old client. “Punk,” he said. He nodded at the door Punk rested against. “What are you doing outside my daughter’s room?” 

Punk’s mouth clamped shut and he averted his gaze. He should have been man enough to own up to what he’d been doing to Paul’s daughter, what they’d been doing together, but he clammed up and said nothing. Fucking coward. You’re not good enough for her.

Paul breathed a soft laugh, tucking his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “I remember when I heard you guys fighting at the Christmas party,” he casually confessed. Punk’s eyes widened as he gaped at the hideous carpet. “I think she … wanted to dance with you, right?” After a moment, Punk nodded. “But you didn’t want to because … What was your reason again?”

Punk scratched at his eyebrow with his thumb, and his cheeks weren’t red just from Miss Heyman’s slap. He cleared his throat, shaking his head, and he ultimately looked up at Paul. “Uh … at the time, Paul, I didn’t want anyone to find out about us.” 

“Right,” Paul shrugged, “but for some reason, today was okay for everyone to find out? With the added bonus of a fist fight.” 

“Look—” 

“Stop,” Paul interrupted. “Of course I don’t want you dating my daughter. My daughter is too good for you.” 

“I don’t disagree.” 

“I said shut up. But I looked the other way because I’ve never, in all her life, seen her as happy as she’s been with you.” Punk’s stomach sloshed. “So you—” The round man leaned over and pointed at Punk, his bulging eyes like two tiny pyro flames. “—need to fix this.” 

“What do you think I’m doin’ here, Paul?” Punk seethed, gesturing at his surroundings. 

“Looks like you’re sitting on your ass pouting,” Paul snapped. “Stand up. Be the man my daughter deserves.” Punk nodded, and was this what shame felt like? “What are you waiting for? Get up!”

Punk chuckled, climbing to his feet, brushing off his jeans self-consciously. “Thanks, Paul,” he said. Paul only glared at Punk before turning and heading back toward the elevator. Suddenly Punk heard the deadbolt release, and he spun around to face the door as it opened, though, at the last second, he took a step back. She stood there, eyes burning much like her father’s had. “You’re not gonna hit me again, are you?” he asked. Her frown twitched, and he considered it a victory to still be able to charm her. 

“You liked it,” she said. Punk’s own smirk grew, green eyes brightening, and he nodded. “I heard you talking to my dad.” Punk nodded again, and who had really done the enchanting here? Her beauty, even while angry, was unmatched, her pretty scent infiltrating his senses, and he thought for sure this time he’d end up stoned. “So how do you plan on fixing it?”

Punk pretended to weigh his options, eyes looking about as he thought. “I thought maybe you could sit on my face for … at least an hour.”

Her jaw worked, but that adorable smile of hers was starting to bleed through even more. “How do you actually plan on fixing it?”

Punk gripped the doorframe and leaned inside the room, drawing her eyes to his biceps despite being covered by a white hoodie. Her scent became stronger, her pupils grew larger, and Punk decided he wanted to fight with this girl and only this girl for the rest of his life. “I honestly don’t know,” he replied, “but I thought we could start with a dance.”

Her blossoming smile melted as she swallowed. “What?”

Punk extended his hand, palm up, and she let only a brief moment pass before she placed her hand in his. He took a few steps backward, into the hallway, and she followed, eyes glassy while watching his face closely. Punk locked her gaze with his as he pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing down momentarily to find the correct app and locate a song they’d be able to dance to. He pressed play before tucking the device away once more, taking a deep breath when their eyes met, and he took her other hand, so tiny in comparison to his, so soft, lifting both of them to his shoulders. The tips of his fingers danced up her arms and down her sides, grinning at the tightening of her muscles where he knew her tickle spot to be, landing heavily on her hips.

He turned them in a slow circle, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, and he wished he’d done this at Christmas. Her in her sexy green dress and heels, the stockings with the seams up the back … fucking idiot, he berated himself. No one would have suspected them of having a connection that went beyond just dancing—he knew that now, he’d known it then—but why had it mattered? He was an adult and she was an adult, which made their ages irrelevant, and, oh, by the way, he’d never given a fuck what people thought about him or the things he did, so why did he care when it came to her? 

“I’m sorry for slapping you,” she whispered, squeezing his shoulders, one hand sneaking to the back of his neck. Punk tilted his head with a small shrug, and she finally, finally, smiled—a full smile, like he could see every single one of her teeth, and he determined at that moment to make it his life’s goal to keep this smile on her face for as long as he was able. “But …”

Punk’s brows rose, thin lips forming an O. “You liked it, too, didn’t you?”

Her eyes were downcast then, remaining long enough that Punk truly thought she was humiliated by the newly discovered kink, but then her gaze lifted to meet his, and they were fucking black and consumed by hunger and filth and him. Her ability to flip a switch with her moods might have irritated other men, but Punk welcomed it—he enjoyed the surprise of not knowing which princess he was going to get on any given day. 

“Maybe,” she whispered, rising to her tip toes. “Possibly.” Her silky lips brushed his as she breathed, “Perhaps.” The kiss she gave him couldn't even be described as a peck—so gentle, so goddamn elegant—because he wasn’t sure he’d felt it at all. His hands glided from her hips to her back, easily covering the expanse, pulling her closer to him. “But also definitely.”

Punk’s smile had enough energy to power an entire country until the end of time. “Wanna do it again?” he purred.

“Actually I do,” she replied. “But first thing's first … you need to go down to the front desk.” She tossed a thumb over her shoulder. “We're locked out.”

TAGS: @southerngirl41 @femdisa @riverina69 @rollinssection @paramedicnerd004 @mandmilovehim @brianochka @yourmommyagone22 @sweetmoonlove0214 @partypoison00 @missbmc94 @lils2795 @aureliacorvina @magicalbuttertarts @madimcg14 @thealliasylum @lov3rla03 @plaidpajamallama @deansimpala @there-goes-thefighter @themarvelousmaks @xkittypunkerx @sarlaccussy @infamousvampcx @princesstiti14

[cherrynflowergarden]

જ⁀➴ this is why we can't have nice things || matt sturniolo

sturniolo masterlist taglist

the kitchen smelled of ginger and cinnamon as matt stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, carefully squeezing icing onto a gingerbread wall. she was beside him, painstakingly placing little candy decorations in a neat line.

“alright, what’s the plan here?” matt asked, glancing at the pile of candy she insisted on using. “we’re making a cute little house,” she said, voice laced with determination. “it’s a gingerbread mansion with the amount of candy you bought, darling.” he teased, smirking as he popped a gumdrop into his mouth.

before she could respond, chris barged into the kitchen, a can of pepsi in hand. “yo, what are you guys doing? trying to win a baking competition or something?”

“trying to build a house,” matt replied, emphasizing trying as the roof he’d just placed slid off.

chris laughed, leaning against the counter. “you need my expert advice?” “not unless you want icing in your hair,” matt shot back playfully, though there was a serious glint in his eyes.

nick appeared next, his curiosity piqued by the commotion. “what’s going on? oh, this is gonna collapse in like two seconds.”

“it’s not collapsing,” she protested, glaring at him as she added a little green wreath to the front door. “it’s going to be perfect.”

nick raised an eyebrow. “define perfect.”

“nick, go away,” matt muttered, though he was grinning now, caught between annoyance and amusement.

nick didn’t leave, of course. instead, he grabbed a piece of gingerbread from the “extra” pile and started munching. “i’m just saying, this isn’t very structurally sound.”

chris grabbed the icing bag from matt. “i’ll show you how it’s done.”

ten minutes later, the kitchen was a disaster zone. icing was everywhere—on the counter, on the floor, and somehow even in nick’s hair. candy was scattered like confetti, and the gingerbread house was leaning precariously to one side.

chris stood back, proudly admiring his handiwork. “i think it adds character.”

“you mean chaos,” nick muttered, wiping icing off his sleeve on chris’ shirt to which the later yelled about.

matt sighed, looking at the mess with his hands on his hips. then he turned to his girlfriend, a smirk tugging at his lips. “at least it’s better than the one they’d make on their own.”

“definitely,” she agreed, laughing as she swiped some icing onto matt’s cheek. “hey!” he grabbed a handful of flour and dusted it over her head in retaliation, making her squeal. nick and chris watched the madness unfold, both shaking their heads.

“this is why we can’t have nice things.” chris said, grinning.

an; heh the title doesn't match at all but it's okay :3 it's 24 dec for me so enjoy this little christmas gift from meeeee i have more ideas and i might just post them :)

tags; @eirianna @thebasicbiatch @katamcauley @wxnyzie @lilmear-blog @vrlixlia @star-fuck-off @embonbon @idkversace @annawilk @r0nnsblog @weluvwbb @c1ydessturniolo @vintagebishx @maddie-bell @timmdmdm @happydiplomatshepherdspy-blog @crispycitrus @faith-f1 @escapentropy @florscons @carlossainzwho @luckylampzonkland @lewisroscoelove @mudryklover @rageshots @dontworryaboutit007 @chair-things @myangelbaby555 @sheesh1311 @f1lovely @silia1raf @blahbel668 @my-dinos-life-is-good @ssturniolo92 @lilly6110 @lou-larcher5 @arminluvrr @mxryxmfooty @gabri3la-sturns @bellsboops @f1-and-shiz @emely9274 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @unx100to @strnlslut

@mattslovergirlie @sarakpalsd @sweetobservationface @shadowthesim @mattslolita @cupiidk1lls @urloveanaa @t1llysblog @meatball10 @fiowerbeds

[neoplatinum]

do not move | nakamura kazuha

summary: when you both each meet other for the first time, you think: strength in numbers, she thinks: deadweight

pairing: kazuha x reader

themes: zombie apocalypse au, blood, death, murder, gore, graphic violence (if you're squeamish, beware!), lone survivor kazuha and lone survivor reader, angst, fluff, [-------] side character

wc: 6.2k

a twig branch snaps, and you immediately duck behind a bush. heavy breathing and exhaustion burning your muscles. just outside of the city, you try and get some cover from the raiders running around the streets; they've been setting everything on fire. even the smell of fire still invading into your nose.

moving down the eerie neighborhood is tough, especially with a limping leg and a heavy backpack. you risked your life for those rations --only to get chased out by those raiders. they chased you like you were prey, and you walked out alive (mostly) with a bullet in the calf and a running trail of blood.

you press your ears into the ground, making yourself as small as possible. praying that it's simply a deer, a hopeless dream. deers have been nearly all hunted. but you hope the burn in your lungs stops soon, and you cling to yourself, willing the pain away long enough that whoever is nearby leaves.

"clear, no sign of life." you hear a low voice shout nearby. the raiders were still looking for you, going as far as to chase you even outside the city. you know what lies ahead if you get caught. so you bite down, shoving your teeth into your bottom teeth, trying to numb the pain of that bullet.

you stay crouched there for another ten minutes before you even decide it's okay to lift your head off the ground, raiders had no morals, their signals could be a trap and you wanted to take the extra precaution.

and then you army crawled away to a fence, thanking the heavens that you ran fast enough to get into the suburbs. the trail of blood is still worrisome. grabbing ripped rags from your bag, you try your best to tie them around the wound just enough to stop the bleeding.

"fuck fuck fuck." you bite into a stick nearby as you wince and tie a final knot. securing your leg. laying yourself up against a wall, and breathing through the pain, wincing every so often until you feel the pain subside to a low numbness.

you haul yourself up to a house, it's oddly pretty, even with it's dilapidated roof and furniture all thrown out the front lawn. you think you would've bought the house before d-day. and with a heavy grunt you drop into a couch. it's been torn apart, but as long as it does it's job you don't care.

the pain is still throbbing and it just looks bad. you cover the windows with fabric lying around and press a wooden board against the door. and with one final breath, you flip your switch blade open and dig straight into your calf, screaming into a spare shirt and digging the bullet from out of your leg. muted screams so hard that you think you might've bursted your own eardrum, and pain so bad that you shake until you drop back onto the couch.

the bullet is out, flung across the floor and blood all over. you feel like passing out, but you spit out your shirt and wrap it around the now open wound, bleeding profusely on the wooden floor. with sweat all over your forehead and pain so severe you feel your body shake until you pass out.

you knock out cold.

--

"up." you wake up to the noise of a woman, her lower face is covered with a bandana and she has a long blade pointed right at your throat. if you moved a centimeter closer, that blade would no doubt pierce your jugular. "i said up!" she shouts at you.

you throw your hands up as you try to get yourself up, it's so painful to even sit up half your body. but you manage to have your back leaning against the couch. she stares at you with sharp eyes, eyes that no longer gleam in the light.

you stay as still as possible, waiting for the woman to do anything really, anything that won't end with you beheaded on this rotting old couch. she stares at you, blade never moving a centimeter. she glances around you, seeing the blood all over the floor, backpack open with supplies all spilled out. the pant leg that you have scrunched over your knee, and most of all the blood soaked shirt tied around your leg.

"bite?" she says, and you can see how in a second, she could decide whether you live or die.

"no. bullet. raiders." she nods and scans around the room, that blade still very much at your throat. she looks back down at your backpack, filled with old dog food.

"split 80/20. i let you live." she demands.

"split 50/50, i give you the better half." you negotiate back.

"i don't think you understand how this works, you give me what I want, i don't slice your neck open." she continues, pointing the tip just enough that it pricks at your skin.

"split 50/50, and i give you medical supplies." you counter. she stops and thinks for a bit.

"you're bold, even with a sword at your neck...fine." she says, and drops her blade, you relax a bit but then she points it right back at you. "show your weapons."

you move to slowly bring out the small revolver and pre-made molotovs tucked in a smaller bag compartment. her blade never leaves your throat. you unload the revolver, two bullets dropping to the ground, before you sit back on the couch, "happy?"

she doesn't comment. you lean forward, letting out a grunt as you pick up the two bullets, reloading it into the revolver, tucking it into your belt.

"ah fuck." you groan as you check on your wound, it's become an ugly purple, brusing all around and sensitive to the touch. you breath heavily and wince at the touch.

"did you sterilize it?" the woman's voice is strong and clear, no sign of hesitation.

"no. passed out." she nods and digs through her own bag, pulling out a molotov. "i'm going to douse it, bite down on something." you nod and grab another shirt from your bag, watching as she pours the liquid over your wound, you scream out like a wounded dog, and nearly fall over.

"needle and stitches?" she asks you. you nod and point into the small compartment of your bag. she pulls out the small sewing kit in your backpack, grabbing old sutures and tying it around the needle.

"bite." she orders. you shove your teeth hard into the shirt, as she begins sewing up the wound, jagged from the switchblade. the pain becomes so unbearable you pass out even sooner.

--

waking up to the sun in your eyes, you find yourself still on that same rotting couch. your body is hot, running like a furnace. you glance around and everythings out on the floor: dried blood, your switchblade, that bullet across the floor and your revolver.

you groan as you sit up, now your leg is sore and heavy, your face is hot and burning up. but the door is ajar, you scan around and half your food is gone, along with the suture kit.

"fuck." the woman's abandoned you. taken what she needed and crept out before you could even say bye. she holds up to her bargain, 8 cans of dog food became 4, and you still have your revolver on you.

"damn her." you start getting your items back in order.

--

the weather's getting colder, and you only have that workman jacket around your shoulder. the wind gets harsher as the days go by, the sight of falling leaves and pine cones littered the ground. you kneel behind a tree, eyes trained on a lone buck.

he stops eating grass to look around, before dropping his neck back down for more grass, and before his next bite, he drops instantly. body falling to the floor with an arrow through his head. a clean and sharp shot.

you drag yourself up, tucking the bow into the side of your backpack, and limping towards your fresh breakfast/lunch/dinner for the next few weeks. smiling at the labor finally paying off, stripping down sticks until they become sharp points to pierce through skin.

as you walk across the meadow to retrieve your prize, you start to hear distant galloping behind you, causing you to duck and turn around; before you know it, you're grabbed by the arm and thrown onto the back of the horse. you immediately grab onto anything you can hold on, that being the waist of the rider.

"woah."

"shut it, we're being chased." the woman kicks the horse into higher gear, and you both speed off into the woods, you turn you back just in time to see a group or horseback riders with lit torches chasing you across the meadow.

you try not to think about the lone buck that should've been yours.

--

you get off the horse and immediately start throwing up on the ground, shaken by the sudden movements and jostling around. the woman pays you no mind though, securing her horse to a branch and staring at you.

"i don't know how you've survived this long." she starts. pulling out carrots to feed her horse, the horse happily munching on his lunch.

you're still puking, but just the insult is getting you riled up. "i survive just fine."

"those raiders would've sacrificed you by now." she says and crosses her arms.

"no, they wouldn't." you counter, and she sighs before untying the horse, and leading it away. you follow behind it. "...but thank you. for saving me. twice."

you try to not let your pride get the better of you, considering this women lent a helping hand in your darkest moments.

she doesn't say anything back and continues walking through the forest. you trail behind her for what must've been thirty minutes before she speaks up.

"it was a trap, that lone buck." she goes on. "no zombies, and a lone buck in an open meadow. you should've known better." she says to you. you're immediately enraged.

"how would i know that?" you are tired of these insults.

"you should have." she just says, and it ends there.

"since you know so much, you should teach me." you say. she laughs at that.

"no, i survive alone." the way she says it is firm.

"listen, everyone could do well with a partner, i could share knowledge that you might not, and you can share the infinite wisdom that you seem to have." you're tired of traveling alone with no one having your back, maybe you can get her to work with you.

"no. i survive alone." she continues.

"oh don't be like that, i gave you four cans of dog food." you try and make a joke, remembering how she left you weeks ago.

"no, i let you keep four cans of dog food and let you live, there's a difference." she counters.

"let's not get into the technicalities, you ever heard of the phrase of strength in numbers?" you smirk, trying to get her to understand reason.

"strength in numbers is foolish if im surviving with deadweight." she says firmly, shaking her head at the idea.

"i am not deadweight! i cook up a mean meal of dog food and peas." you explain.

"yeah no, not happening." she says with finality.

you huff but continue walking with her.

--

"stop following me." it's been about an hour.

"you can't tell me what to do." you sound like a small child throwing a tantrum.

the woman sighs and continues walking with disdain. you're still sticking so close by her. both of you reach a small tucked away cabin. it's been expertly covered in moss and dirt to blend into the background. she walks away from the house a few meters away and ties her horse to a tree.

"woah, sick place." you comment, amazed by the well thought out hideout, it's truly a place you wouldn't have thought twice to really look into.

"thank you." she walks in, and taps her foot on the right side, and suddenly there's another opening, underneath the floor.

"woah, wait, the house isn't even the actual hideout, its underground?" she says nothing, you follow her down the stairs to the basement.

"you are seriously too trusting, walking right after me into a basement. i could've lured you into a trap." she says to you as she begins restocking her items. rows and rows of weapons, rations and even a hydroponics system in the room.

"nah, you wouldn't kill me. you would've done it when you found me on that couch." you say, admiring the amount of work he has put to make this place work. it's quite cozy, small camping lanterns in all different shapes laid around the dark room. the room's also filled with carpets.

"carpets?" you mention, it's odd that there's so many carpets overlapping each other.

"muffles noise. sometimes people walk through upstairs, but i make it so that even if they stay for long, i can move freely down here without them hearing."

she's clearly thought this place through, she has everything that she needs down here to survive. it's wonderful really, then a question pops into your mind. "why do you go outside then?"

"what?"

"why do you leave this place if it's so safe?" you ask. she seems more than equipped to survive here in this base. you glance around, looking at the plants that she's growing, amazed at how they're all turning out so well. so much for saying you could cook up a mean meal of dog food and peas.

she doesn't bother answering. instead pulling together jerky and greens from her hydroponics. handing you some, you decline and open your can of dog food, as much as you would like to eat it, her evasiveness is making you weary.

"so, do i get to know your name?" you ask as you shovel the can into your mouth.

"you can call me z."

"okay, z. that's a cool nickname." you chuckle, "what is it short for? zebra, zack?" you joke to yourself, she shakes her head no and continues eating her jerky.

you don't bother her anymore that night.

--

"morning z! what are we doing today?" you haven't felt so safe sleeping in years, feeling well rested and ready to take on the world with your trusty partner. z's busy cleaning her weapons when you wake up.

"nothing. i let you stay the night, you need to leave." she says calmly, wiping her dirty rag into a bucket of water. you frown at that, confused with her hot and coldness.

"dont be like that! strength in numbers remember?" you say, sitting near her, she groans at that.

"stop saying that."

"why? strength in numbers. strength in numbers. strength in numbers." you joke.

"stop it! you aren't chaewon!" she shouts at you, shoving an arrow near your neck. it's oddly familiar, the aggression from when you first met her is there.

"who's chaewon?" you ask.

z just leaves the room, leaving her half cleaned arrows on the workbench. you hear a door open and close, and now you're contemplating following after her. you choose rather to let her calm down, when she calms down maybe you can apologize.

you sigh and look around, feeling bad for being invasive, but you really didn't know. looking around you explore her place more, seeing a locker filled with clothes, and a giant map on a corkboard. pins all over the states, with detailed notes of specific locations. a lot of them were lookout points for raiders.

tucked under the map is a white square, you pull it off the corkboard, and see a very faded photo of two girls. one that you can recognize as z and another girl smiling with a bob. tagged below the image is kz & cw.

you begin to examine more of the notes, a lot highlighting names and times. it seems that z has been trying to find patterns of when raiders are patrolling.

with a sudden door opening, you grab a knife immediately from your waist as you see z rush back inside, finger to her lips as she grabs you away from the corkboard.

"silent." she whispers directly into your ear. you two crouch on the ground and nod. after waiting a couple minutes you hear it. the sound of footsteps getting closer, rustling leaves outside. z nods and uncovers a small machine under the carpet.

she takes one of the ends of the machine and puts it close to her ear. you stay as still as possible as she starts jotting down notes. she grips her pen harder as time goes on. and you stay still, watching her.

--

you find out much later there were raiders out visiting the house while you dozed off. both of you were sitting against the wall waiting for the people upstairs. z has been formulating a plan the whole time. meanwhile, those raiders treated upstairs like their temporary hideout for a couple hours.

after you wake up, and z gives you the all clear to talk, the first thing she asks is, "how good are you at taking out people?"

"the best." you smirk. it was always your speciality, being able to slip in and out of places before anyone could notice, and by the time they did notice, you already had twisted their necks.

"strength in numbers?" she asks wearily.

"strength in numbers." you confirm.

"then i need your help, i need to rescue someone." she goes on. you nod, and she grabs the map off the corkboard. and unfolds a smaller map, one with the layout of a building. "but i don't know if i can trust you."

you gasp, "how could you say that?" you dramatically ask her.

she rolls her eyes at that, "i need a guarantee from you."

"like what?"

"something to ensure you won't ditch me when things get rough." she says, thinking of things to trade.

you take off your pendant necklace, gently placing it in her hands. "this was from my late mother, i'd rather be chased by runners for the rest of my life than to lose this." you state seriously, she nods at the vulnerability and slips it onto her neck.

then z takes off the bandana that's been covering the lower half of her face the whole time. "this is a gift, from the person we're rescuing. i also would rather be chased by runners for the rest of my life than to lose this." she hands you the black bandana, and you tie is around your face, just like she has.

when you look back up, you're shocked at just how beautiful the woman is, even with her lean muscular build you knew she was pretty, but seeing the rest of her face uncovered, she's drop dead gorgeous. face sculpted from the gods.

"what?"

"nothing." you comment, "fill me in on this plan."

"okay, we go in like this..." z starts laying out the steps.

--

you haven't visited the city since that one grueling day, leaving your leg with a bullet. now that you're back you're shivering in anticipation, this city has definitely left its horrifying memories in your mind. with z by your side, you feel a little safer, though.

the outskirts of the city are deadly quiet, filled with car crashes and littering barrels of trash. walking closer into main street, you start to feel your hair stand up on your skin. it's terrifying, being back when you tried so desperately to leave this horrifying place.

"where's the patrol?"

"we have exactly 5 minute 25 second window before patrol comes back." you hear it loud and clear, 5 minute and 26 seconds, you are dead meat.

she then starts picking up the pace, running between alleyways with her head ducked low, always pausing between corners and big obstructions in between the streets.

with the cold wind, you hear howling through open buildings with their glass windows broken through, the sound of fire crackling in barrels and most of all you hear raiders in the distant, cheering and screaming.

"2 minutes left." she says. you follow behind her, quick on her trail. she soon ducks completely behind a building. digging through her backpack for trap mines.

"listen to me, trap mines: detonate with proximity. we need distractions. raiders are extreme in not letting things getting through their grasp, you know this well enough." she says and hands you trap mines. z gives you the signal and you both split. she heads straight for the back entrance of the building while you go around the side entrance.

raiders are shuffling around, trading posts. you crouch close to the ground and place a trap mine close to the door, waiting for a raider to walk close. you crawl backward into safety, reciting the plan to yourself.

a loud boom blows up at the entrance, and you can hear the horrifying scream of a man being blown to pieces, and other voices running after him.

"we're under attack!" the sound of the raider's feet is closer, all rushing towards the entrance with the trapped mine. in the distance, you hear another mine go off, z's mine based on the direction of the sound.

"another?" a raider shouts. then you hear some footsteps fall away. you sneak around the front of the building, examining the situation, most men have spread to the side and back entrance, disregarding the front.

you slip through the front with the open window, you try and step over the broken glass to minimize sound. and soon you creep towards the stairs. a man stands before you, handgun in hand and peaking around for intruders. you dig a shiv right into his neck before he even gets a clue.

dragging the body away, you put on his jacket and hat, grabbing his gun and checking for bullets, a full magazine. you feel lucky, feeling a knife in the jacket you stole. you tuck that into your shoe. you need all you've got to save whoever chaewon is.

the raiders are now patrolling through the entrances, you find yourself able to slip into different levels of the building until you reach the fifth floor, where supposedly chaewon was supposed to be.

when z filled you in on the situation, you piece together that chaewon is z's older sister. she and z used to survive together, going from groups to traveling alone. never sticking by a group for too long. z had explained that chaewon wanted to leave the raiders after she found out that they sacrificed people that they caught just for fun.

it was horrifying; they joined the raiders in hopes of getting protection by being in a large group, but she couldn't stand by and watch innocent survivors being taken out just for the fun of it.

z wanted to leave too, until they both got caught, the raiders let z get away if they let chaewon get sacrificed. so z's been figuring out a plan to break her free, and it seems tonight was supposed to be chaewon's sacrifical night.

you shivered just hearing it, you knew nothing about chaewon but you knew you would never want her to be sacrificed. you can see it, the line of tortured souls, all being watched by the raiders, it seems that their idea of sacrifice is making them fall from stories high into an enclosed space of zombies, all ready to bite these people to shreds.

you line up close, thinking of a way to get them riled up and away from chaewon. you grab a molotov from your bag, along with a gun. with a careful aim, you toss the molotov on the floor, startling the raiders. they're all trying to examine the disturbance, with quickness, you throw another molotov. setting some raiders on fire. with their screams piercing your ears, you grab your gun and start shooting them. the confusion and commotion of the fifth floor is also startling the tortured survivors, they start running towards the stairs.

you're busy trying to find whoever chaewon is while also shooting the raiders. you hear the signature sound of z's long bow, taking out raiders, some even falling straight into the zombie pit. you can't see her but you know that she's here now.

"chaewon!" you shout, and a shorter girl stops, her eyes go wide. you spot her, the girl that looks so familiar to that polaroid back in z's base. her hair is longer, face bruised up. she's sporting a black eye and she's got a weird limp. you grab her hand and drag her away from the commotion, z continues to aim at the raiders.

by the time you are able to get her out of the building, more raiders are showing up. rushing up the building, you grab chaewon's hand and turn to her. "we run now." you tell her.

she nods and like how the raiders chased you out those weeks ago, you run as fast as you can, pulling chaewon along. with the limp, it's harder for her to run but you know even trailing behind for a second could be instant death.

z's plan was this: she wanted revenge, wanted to kill all those raiders for what they did to chaewon. for making her become their sacrificial pawn, so she told you to take chaewon to a safe place. and then she would let hell rain on those fuckers.

you finally spot the theatre, the rendezvous point where you were supposed to keep chaewon safe. the girl is startled, you're wearing her sister's bandana, but you aren't z. and when you finally are able to lock the door, chaewon collapses on the floor, breathing so heavy, and loud. you calm yourself down too, leaning against the door sinking to ground.

"you aren't zuha." she says between breaths.

"who's zuha?" you ask, confused by what she means.

she points at your bandana. "that is kazuha's bandana, i gave it to her." she says, confused written on her face.

"oh. z?" you ask. chaewon is confused but nods. "z is probably a codename she gave me then."

"you met her then!" chaewon sits up and moves closer to you, tears sprouting in her eyes. "is she alive?"

"yes." you reply back, chaewon probably has no idea if kazuha is alive or not. that must be terrifying, letting your sister have freedom, not even knowing if she actually survived outside.

"she uh, made this plan, for us to rescue you." you explain, going into depth about how you two met. also how she is letting you help save chaewon.

"kazuha's a hard person to convince, you must've gotten under her skin." chaewon responds, listening intently about the whereabouts of her sister.

you agree, fishing out food and water for chaewon. she must be starving, you think. chaewon nearly cries at the sight, downing water like she was in a scorching desert. you let her have at it while checking your timer. kazuha told you that if she doesn't return in thirty minutes, that you should take chaewon to the base, and that she probably has died.

you're not going to let that happen; forget that stupid plan to get revenge alone. you're going to go back for her. with a stretch, and drinking your own water bottle, you get ready to set back out. chaewon looks at you in bewilderment.

"where are you going?" she asks while biting on jerky.

"back, i'm not letting her fight those raiders alone." you say, checking your handgun for bullets. chaewon looks at you and nods.

"strength in numbers." she says to herself.

"yeah, strength in numbers." you smile, hearing the familiar phrase. you hand chaewon a handgun and some molotovs. "three knocks, that'll be the signal that we're coming to the theatre, any other knock, that's not us." chaewon nods and checks her gun.

"good luck back there, please bring my baby sister back safely. i'm counting on you." even though this is the first conversation you've had with chaewon, you feel inclined to listen to her words.

"swear on my soul." and with that you exit the theatre.

--

with blood on your face, and the jacket that you stole, you rush into the building. most of the raiders are circling around the ground floor, grabbing an auto rifle, you open fire like you never have before, using the cars around as coverage. with a rage you never felt before you go batshit crazy, slicing down raiders left and right. you don't even feel anything anymore, just with the goal of finding kazuha.

the raiders are all falling by your hands. you rapidly fire at whoever dares to separate you and kazuha. you pick up guns that's been left by now dead raiders. you can hear a distant scream of a woman's voice, sounding like kazuha's voice. your blood runs cold, you rush upstairs, taking out the raider's best you can. at some point you get tired of waiting and just grenade them.

the quicker you can reach her, the quicker you can save her. you rush up to the fifth floor where all the commotion went down. you hear the sounds of raiders all shouting. and with a quick glance, you can see them cornering kazuha.

"you never should've come back kazuha, chaewon let you free, by being a sacrifice to them." the man talks as he points below. he smirks, "you want to trade places with your sister? fine by me."

the man and the rest of the raiders start walking kazuha to the edge. you rush behind two raiders. shiving them each and approaching the rest of the raiders. grabbing a metal sheet you use it as coverage as you rush the rest of them. letting out all your strength, you push the rest of the raiders off the edge, falling to their demise. the man that was speaking to kazuha dodges the attack. you find yourself nearly falling off the edge, but kazuha grabs you in time to pull you back.

so now you two face him, kazuha's gotten pretty beaten up, her arm's messed up and her feet's dragging. so you put yourself in front of her.

"let me handle it." you tell her. she's too tired to protest, after just nearly falling to her demise. you keep her behind you pressed against the wall as you approach the man with a switchblade, he's smirking like he has the upperhand. until you smash a bottle over his head and run at him to tackle him down.

he's pushed his knife back against your blade, and you're fighting with every ounce of strength in your body. pushing the blade closer and closer towards him. he makes a quick movement to toss you off over him. you roll over and he jumps to shove the knife at you, to which you dodge. pushing with all your might to push him off you. you launch yourself forward, stabbing the blade into his neck, blood gushing out all over you. he screams and gasps at the impaling. he makes a final attack against you, slicing your face. you let out a scream but don't let go of the knife in his neck.

soon he falls over to the side, his body going limp when kazuha shoots him in the head. a loud ringing noise running through your ears, you latch onto your face. the gash long and running deep over your face.

kazuha's quick to rush to your side, trying to hold your face with her one good arm. she rips off fabric from her shirt to wrap around your face, as you cry out loud. sobbing at the excruciating pain. the man is dead, and you're thankful you saved kazuha.

--

you gave yourself twenty minutes before getting up. kazuha's been trying to set her arm by herself. you lightly tap her and hold onto the loose arm. you hand her your loose switchblade for her to bite it as you set it back into her socket. she screams into the metal blade. and you're quick to make a makeshift sling for her arm. working with one good eye and pain searing through your body.

she cries at the sight of your face and the blood staining her shirt. this battle wasn't an easy one, but you're grateful that both you and kazuha survived. she keeps crying even as you tell her it's okay. you wrap her good arm around your shoulder as you both slowly make your way out of the building.

after a good while of sobbing to herself, she turns to look at you again. "chaewon?"

"she's safe, put her in the theatre like we talked about." you try as move your face as little as possible. kazuha nods. her limping as she puts her body weight on you like a crutch. even though you're so deep in pain, and the adrenaline is finally wearing off, you're glad you went back for her. you know you would never be able to live with the guilt that she died.

the rest of the walk is silent other than wincing here and there and ragged breaths.

you tap three quick knocks at the theatre door, and you hear the sound of a board being moved behind the theatre. when it opens you see chaewon pointing a gun straight at you. as soon as she recognizes you, she puts it down, ushering you two inside.

"chaewon!" kazuha throws herself at her sister, crying into her. letting out relieved tears at the sight of her sister after so long. chaewon's trying to examine kazuha's injuries, but the girl won't even separate herself.

the two girls hug each other for a long while, just crying into each other. you board up the entrance to the theatre. feeling the exhaustion hit your body completely as you sit down by a chair. as much as it hurts, you smile at the two girls.

finally, you knock out cold.

--

you awake to the two girls speaking to each other in hushed tones. it seems that they're talking about the raiders, how chaewon was kept captive until tonight for her sacrificial night. chaewon cries as she thinks about how she hasn't seen sunlight in weeks, being fed slop and kazuha cries but listens intently.

you try and move yourself up, sitting in the chair. chaewon looks at you, and smiles.

"hi, glad you're awake." chaewon says to you. kazuha also turns to look at you, sobbing when she thinks about the deep gash on your face. you smile back at the two, still feeling the pain of the attack.

"i stitched your face while you were asleep." chaewon says, and she stands up to remove the shirt covering your face. trading it for a clean and new cloth. "he slashed over your eye, i think you won't be able to see out of your left eye anymore." chaewon comments quietly. she gently wraps the new cloth around your face. you nod, the truth of the matter settling in.

"i'm sorry!" kazuha cries out, the guilt of being the reason you lost your eye is hitting her hard. you shake your head no, you would never blame kazuha for what he did. "it's not your fault kazuha, i wouldn't blame you. i had to save you. no matter what."

kazuha cries harder, and you walk yourself over to hug her. calming her down and telling her everything is okay. as long as you still had each other you don't care how many limbs you lose.

you three get ready to finally be away from this cursed city.

"thank you for coming back for me."

"strength in numbers kazuha, i wouldn't ever think of leaving you behind."

--

it's been a couple months since saving chaewon; you've gotten closer to the two sisters. you find that behind the coldness, kazuha is actually a lovely woman. a woman hardened by the loss of her sister by her side. every day, you spend time with the two girls happily. and now you wear an eyepatch, claiming that it makes you look cooler. kazuha rolled her eyes when you made that comment.

meeting kazuha changed the trajectory of your life forever, you're happy to find a semblance of a family with these two girls. especially when kazuha makes your heart race as you get to know her.

sometimes when chaewon isn't looking you sneak a kiss for kazuha, the woman always goes rigid like a plank whenever you do this. you giggle everytime, while chaewon is always confused what happened.

kazuha also had a hard time with expressing affection, so she would always say that you should ride with her on her horse. you know it's because she likes keeping you against her at all times.

sometimes you think chaewon knows what is going on between you two (she most definitely does) but just plays dumbs. like she's waiting for you two to come clean. you don't give her that satisfaction until much later when chaewon catches you kissing kazuha before she sets off for a supply run.

chaewon simply smiles when you see you've been caught. and you smile because it feels like you have gained a family through meeting kazuha.

--

a/n: ive been wanting to write a tlou (the last of us) piece for sooo long. i am not a med student, so if there's any medical inaccuracies...let's just move past that. i made this piece less zombie centric, and more plot driven. anyways, stay safe and stay healthy everyone!