#this was gonna be titled 'Stripped Bare'

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Cherry Red.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).

Written in conjunction with this ask from @eevwrites.

Word Count: 1.9k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Implied Stalking, Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Overstimulation, Biting/Marking, and Slight Dehumanization.

Really, your only mistake had been choosing the wrong savoir after Satoru had slipped something into your drink.

Satoru was obviously, visibly, undeniably a creep. That much was obvious from the second he approached you, neon pink cocktail in-hand and that degenerate grin plastered across his lips. He was sketchy, but he was also rich, and fun, and willing to dance with you hours after the rest of your friends had called it a night. Suguru wasn’t a creep – or, he didn’t look like one, at least. When your vision started to darken, when it became harder than it should’ve been to put one foot in front of the other, it was his chest you stumbled into, using what was left of your consciousness to beg an imposing, aloof stranger to get the bartender’s attention and help you. It was what anyone else would’ve done. It was what you would’ve done, if the roles had been reversed.

It wasn’t until you felt his arm wrap around your waist, until you heard him call so lovingly to Satoru, that you realized how badly you’d fucked up.

Still, stumbling halfway across the club and throwing yourself at a total stranger must've attracted some attention. As Suguru gathered you in his arms, the bartender rounded towards you, eyeing your limp form and Suguru's slight smile warily. “Someone had little too much to drink,” he explained, nonchalantly. “It’s fine. Her boyfriend and I are going to take her home and make sure she gets tuck her in.”

‘Your boyfriend’ being Satoru, apparently, judging by the way he clung to Suguru’s side as you were carried out of the club entirely and piled into the backseat of an inconspicuous black car. Suguru drove and Satoru hovered over you – gnawing hickeys and bruises into your throat until you were too far gone to care.

Whatever they’d dosed you with, it was strong. You were strung out for most of the ride, only vaguely aware of passing scenery, Satoru’s keening whines, and Suguru’s gentle reminders to ‘wait, ‘toru’. By the time you felt your body being lifted, you were beyond the point of deliberate movement – your mind hyperactive, eager to latch onto every little sensation and spiraling thought, but unable to do much more than remind you to breath as you were hauled through a shrine courtyard and into a small, dimly lit backroom; the priest’s personal barracks, if you had to guess. Satoru babbled while Suguru lowered you onto a large, plush bed, and despite your best efforts, you caught most of it. “—and that’s when I knew it had to be you.” Suguru spared you an apologetic smile, his nimble hands moving over your body as he carefully removed your dress, then your shoes, then your panties, stripping you bare with all the care and all the tenderness of an avid collector undressing his favorite doll. “I mean, it took a few months, but I wanted it to be romantic, y’know? Suguru doesn’t get it. He thought I’d be happy with just anyone.”

“It took me a while to come around the idea. I might’ve gotten a little jealous.” You could only wish he would’ve stayed that away. “Come here, I need to show you what you’re doing.”

Suguru dragged you into his lap, keeping your upper body propped against his chest while spreading your legs apart in front of him. Satoru took his position eagerly between then, his eyes fixed on your cunt. “This,” he started, using two thick fingers to spread the folds of your labia apart, “is what you’re gonna fall in love with. Make sure you’re always paying attention to her clit – aw, look, it’s already poking out.”

It was humiliatingly clinical – how he touched you while explaining your anatomy in-detail, using the pad of his thumb to show Satoru how to play with your clit, dipping two fingers into your entrance while extrapolating on the importance of proper preparation, gathering your arousal up to make sure Satoru knew what it would look like when he was doing a good job. “Remember to be gentle. She’s going to be a lot more delicate than me,” he said, while curling two fingers inside of you, filling the bedroom with a rhythmic, humiliatingly wet sound. Your couldn't seem to open your mouth, and yet, little whimpers of discomfort and mewls of pleasure escaped your parted lips without resistance, each new noise drawing Satoru that much closer. “You’ll just be using your mouth, for now. We can talk about hands once you’ve shown some restraint.”

And yet, Satoru’s hands still found their way to your thighs, kneading mindlessly while Suguru split you open on his fingers. You tried to shake your head, to squirm against him, to tell him to stop, but the closest you got to anything coherent was a pitchy, keening sound not totally dissimilar to the whines Satoru would let out every now and then as he ground half-consciously into the mattress. You tried not to feel anything, either, but Suguru’s hands were so big, and his chest was so warm against your back, and with Satoru all-but drooling over your pussy, it would’ve been impossible not to come undone the second his palm ground against your clit and he spread his fingers apart inside of you, nursing you through your orgasm while making sure you were on fully-display. “See how she’s clenching down? That means she’s trying to milk your cock – you’ll get what I mean, once your inside of her.”

If only for a moment, your panic overshadowed your paralysis. Thrashing to either side, you did your best to fight against Suguru’s ironclad hold and finally spit something out, even if your voice was still barely stronger than a whimper. “N-No, don’t, you can’t—”

It was Satoru who cut you off, this time, albeit without breaking his nonverbal streak. His mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise, teeth clashing against yours as he shoved his tongue down your throat in less of a kiss and more of a prolonged attempt to choke you to death. It hurt, and you tasted blood, and if you hadn’t known better, than you would’ve thought this was his first—

Oh, god.

As if this couldn’t have gotten any worse.

He didn’t stay focused on your mouth for long. His attention drifted downward – first to your throat, then your collarbone, then your chest, latching onto one of your nipples and sucking harshly. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you were, not until his teeth dug into the plush of your breast and you let out a fractured sob, tears blurring your vision. Suguru’s response was instantaneous. In a fraction of a second, his slick-stained fingers were tangled in Satoru’s hair, prying him off of you entirely. “Gentle,” he repeated, his tone strict, authoritative. “Before I decide you need to be muzzled.”

For what it was worth, Satoru seemed apologetic. After Suguru loosened his hold, he nuzzled into your chest, lapping over his past love bites with the flat of his tongue. “’m sorry, just got excited.” And then, smiling up at you, “You didn’t mind, right? I mean, she definitely doesn’t.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, not until his head dropped to your cunt and he buried his face between your thighs, his attention suddenly solely dedicated to your pussy.

There was no attempt made to use his hands. Despite Suguru’s instructions, he ate you out like a starving animal – his tongue fucking into your cunt as the bridge of his nose ground mindlessly against your clit. Suguru kept his hand in Satoru’s hair, petting gingerly over his scalp as he watched Satoru drool and lap at your cunt. “Use your entire tongue, and don't inhale. She’s not going to be impressed if you manage to drown yourself in pussy.” Suguru tugged lightly, and Satoru let out an unabashed moan, the reverberations going straight to your core. “Don't get distracted, either. Don’t you want to know what she tastes like cumming on your tongue?”

Another moan, another rough buck of Satoru’s hips into the now disheveled sheets. He was terrible, and messy, and loud, and it was humiliating how quickly you lost control of yourself – going stiff against Suguru as Satoru all-but tore your second climax out of you. Suguru grinned against your throat, almost purring with satisfaction. “Good boy. So dedicated, so sweet.” He let go of Satoru’s hair – cupping your face, instead. It was only as his thumb traced over your cheek that you realized you were crying in-earnest, now. “She’s tearing up, ‘toru. That means she wants you to keep going.”

A mix of your arousal and his saliva stained the inside of your thighs, dampening the sheets underneath you, but he didn’t pull away – too caught up in your taste or Suguru’s praise to stop. It might’ve been the overstimulation, or the drugs, or some impossible, nebulous factor you couldn’t so much as begin to guess as, but time seemed to blur together, reality buckling under its own weight as Satoru wrung another orgasm out of you, then another, then another, as Suguru continued to shower him with praise and affection and promises that you liked him, that you wanted this, that you were only crying and thrashing and trying to snap your thighs shut because you felt so good. At some point, you lost the will to keep your eyes open, and minutes later, the harsher edges of your consciousness began to soften. For once, you couldn't be mad at your own body's instinctual submission.

You knew you were going to black out, but you weren't scared. By the time your vision flickered out and everything went black, the only thing you could think to be was grateful that you’d be fortunate enough to miss the main event.

~

You woke up what felt like days later, still lying on the bed you’d blacked out in. Their paralytics had worn off, but trying to make a run for it was out of the question. Every part of your body ached – from your hickey-painted chest to your aching hips to your poor, abused pussy – and even if you’d been able to move, it wouldn’t have done you much good. Familiar bodies caged you in on either side, Suguru’s chest still pressing into your back while Satoru clung to your chest, his arms wrapped around your midriff and his nails embedded in your sides. As if you hadn't already been thoroughly marked.

Suguru stirred first, predictably. It wasn’t hard to tell who was in charge between the two of them. “Our little sleeping beauty,” he muttered into your hair, kissing the top of your head as he sat up and shook Satoru away. “We were starting to get worried – must’ve pushed you too hard last night. You almost missed the most important part.”

Something caught in your throat. “…almost?”

“Yes, princess, almost.” With a groan, Satoru sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Immediately, his gaze fell to you, and just as quickly, he was on top of you – pinning you to the mattress, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “You should be thankful that Satoru had the patience to wait. I wouldn’t have been so nice.”

You felt Satoru’s hands paw at your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he aligned his stiff, leaking cock with your entrance. He moved enthusiastically, but mechanically, like a trained dog. Like he was following instructions. Weakly, you tried to push at his chest, to get him away from you, but you gave up quickly.

You’d been wrong to be grateful. It would’ve been better to get this over with last night.

At least, then, you might’ve been out of it enough to miss the twisted, blissful, lovesick grin painted across Satoru’s lips as he buried himself inside of you.

[lovebugism]

if you're still interested in smutty requests.. what about the line "want me to serenade you while you strip?" and it's eddie jokingly saying this to reader and she runs with it and he tries to keep playing but COME ON there's more important things those fingers should be doing 👀

congrats! u win the award for most eddie coded request of all time :D — eddie makes you laugh when you get nervous undressing in front of him (18+, allusion to smut, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Stop looking at me like that!” you whine with your arms crossed over your nearly bare chest. “You’re making it weird!”

Eddie laughs loud. “Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, leaning back on the mattress and propping his weight on his elbows. He’s got a better view of you from this angle. More of your half-naked body in his sight.

“I can feel you looking at me— It’s making me feel weird.”

“Well, how am I supposed to look anywhere else when you’re in front of me like this, huh?” 

His eyes are lidded and swimming with melted chocolate. You’re not sure how you’ve captured his attention like this, in the tamest underwear you own and your most ancient bra. He’s looking at you like you’re already undressed — like you’re still pretty even though you aren’t.

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, glittering with adoration.

“And you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he quips without thinking twice, wild head titled to his shoulder and a crooked smirk on his kissed mouth. “So I guess we’re even.”

His eyes rake over you again, heavy like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen you. 

He pulls his plush lip between his teeth and, almost absentmindedly so, brings his palm to the crotch of his jeans. He grips his covered cock with a pale hand, shifting it slightly within the confines of the denim. It grows slowly and achingly stiff the longer he looks at you.

Eddie looks like a Renaissance painting like this. Ethereal and hedonistic. You almost forget to breathe.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” you say with a forced laugh.

“You’re half-naked in my bedroom, doll— that’s all you need to do,” he chuckles, golden and more sincere than yours. His ringed fingers clutch tighter at his covered bulge. He breathes hard through his nose. “You could be fully clothed, and you’d still turn me on.”

“Stop messing with me,” you argue in a tiny voice, features twisted in a subtle pout.

“I’m not messing with you.”

“Do you want me to get naked? Or should I just stand here for the next two minutes?”

“Two minutes? C’mon. Give me a little credit. At least, two-and-a-half,” Eddie jokes. And then, when you laugh, he assures you. “You don’t have to get undressed if it makes you uncomfortable. Unless it would make you feel better if I serenaded you—”

“No.”

“—Too late.” 

You reach your arms for the clasp of your bra. Eddie’s voice fills the trailer — “do, do, do, do-do-do-do-do-do” — the high-pitched intro to “I Was Made for Loving You.” It makes you laugh loud. A big, girlish laugh that makes your head drop back.

Your bra comes off, and you forget to be nervous.

“Why are you laughin’ at me, huh?” Eddie jokes, eyes going squishy around the edges when he looks at you.

“‘Cause that’s, like, the least sexiest part of that song.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, are you gonna keep singing, superstar? Or am I gonna have to keep my underwear on?”

He goes dumb for a flash of a second, forgets the lyrics and how to form the words of them in his mouth. He jumbles them together for a second in mindless mumbles until the real thing spills from his lips. “—‘Cause girl, you were made for me… And girl, I was made for you…”

You tug your panties down your thighs while he sings for you. You make a big show of it too, tossing the pair of them into your lover’s lap and giggling when it gets him all flustered. 

“Fuck— c’mere,” he urges, as dumb as he is breathless, now that you’re fully naked in front of him. His hand drops to his lap again, palming at his stiffening length to ease the ache there. His free hand reaches out for you. “Can you— Just come sit in my lap, baby, please.”

You don’t know why he’s groveling. You were breaking the second you saw him melting for you. Not thinking straight enough to tease him about it, you settle yourself over his lap — kneeling on the mattress, both of your thighs straddling one of his.

You linger there, just above him. Eddie’s ringed hands reach gently for your warm jaw to pull you closer to him. You don’t give in so easily — “Keep singing for me, rockstar. You got a show to warm up for, remember?”

Eddie blinks up at you, eyes wide and lidded and honeyed. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky. Like you’re some ethereal being carved out of stone. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen because you are.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “This is so fucking metal.”

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!ghost x f!reader / part 4

previous part

tw: none, definitely more on the softer side :)

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Waking up on day seven was not as chirpy as day six.

Being hungover was a bitch. The headache that rattled your brain caused your ears to pound in a way that you feared would have them implode into deafness.

You laid in bed for so long, the sun began to shift its position in the window of your bedroom. It filled the room with a comforting light, soft rays shining through the transparent curtains and saturating the air with a pleasant warmth that nipped at your toes that poked out from the end of your blanket.

Somehow, you managed to roll out of bed, forcing yourself onto bare feet. The wooden floor was cold to the touch compared to the sunlight that had embraced your feet with tepid coziness, and it sent a frigid chill up your spine.

You don’t remember stripping yourself of your clothes last night, but you certainly remembered Ghost taking you home and guiding you into the house with such a careful, thoughtful touch. You recalled the heartfelt one-on-one you ensued, your frazzled mind slowly beginning to piece itself together and completing the puzzle of uncertainty.

Simon was his name, and he had made sure to scribble it down in grubby, black ink on a piece of kitchen napkin where you found it resting. A number was joined below his name, and you had the stark realization that it was his number – not one he gave you from a burner phone before your initial first meeting, but his personal one.

You stared at the crisp napkin from where you were mounted in the kitchen, eyes a bit fuzzy that it made you reread it a few times just for good measure.

Right next to his name, he had drawn a poorly sketched skull. The act was so childish for a man of his title that it had you laughing to yourself in disbelief.

Hitman had jokes, you thought.

No, not hitman. Not Ghost.

Simon had jokes.

His name felt unfamiliar on your tongue when you tested it outloud. The two syllables filled the air like an elegant symphony, as if a lovely mix of chords chorused from your mouth when repeated again, then once more.

The more you repeated it to yourself, the more it began to stick. It was as if his name being rolled off of your tongue was meant to be there, encasing your mouth with a rich sweetness that had you salivating for more.

You made sure to add Simon’s number in your phone, logging his name with a skull emoji to match the cute artwork he’d scribbled in on the napkin.

Despite your raging headache that didn’t want to vanish, even with an overmedicating amount of painkillers, and your horrible start to the morning, you found yourself in a lighter mood than ever before. There was a pep in your step when you walked to work for the evening, all teeth and smiles when the door chimed as you entered the establishment. It was certainly not because of a mysterious, masked man.

You had never gone to work beaming as if the entire world had encased you in a warm hug and told you you’re gonna do great today! In fact, most days spent at work were mind rotting, slowly killing you from the inside until all that remained was a sad, decaying corpse in its wake.

Today was different, though, and even your coworkers took note of it as you clocked yourself in after greeting them with a cheerful hello. You paid no mind to their curious stares and whispers and immediately busied yourself with the task of tugging out prepped ingredients and lining them up neatly at your station.

Baking used to be your passion, up until the man of your past had ruined it. You used to adore the creations you had free reign to make – cookies, breads, cakes, anything you could possibly craft with your hands. Your job was a hobby and not a chore like it was now. Over time, that spark had died, replaced with a hollowness that was waiting so patiently to be filled once again.

He made you hate baking the way he made you hate yourself.

At least if you couldn’t love yourself just yet, you could relearn to love baking.

You were quick to work dough between your hands, rolling it out on the table like a place mat and carefully carving out shapely designs that would puff up into perfect, little treats once in the oven. As you performed, your face was lifted up into a promising smile, eyes brightened with that past passion that sparked in reminiscence.

You hadn’t even realized you were openly expressing joy in your design until your cheeks began to cramp from how much you were grinning to yourself. The soreness was far from unwelcome, and it was your moment of recognition that this was what smiling was like. Oh, how you had forgotten what it felt like to do it with such genuineness.

When you placed all your neatly carved pastries on trays to be baked, you slipped them in the oven with purpose, watching the glow of the orange light of the heat rods illuminate over the pale dough.

As you watched them slowly begin to form in their desired states, you found yourself thinking about Simon again.

You wondered if he liked sweets. Or perhaps if not sweets, then maybe bread. It didn’t hurt to throw the offer his way, right?

Pulling your phone from the pocket of your apron, you swiped your finger to unlock it and pressed on his contact name. You stared at the screen for moments too long, silently contemplating, gnawing on the nail of your thumb.

A doubtful voice prodded you in the back of your head like an unwanted pest, buzzing in disapproval. Another voice gleamed with delight, encouraging you to send him a text, desperate to make his acquaintance once again. After all, his presence was a newly welcomed one in your life, and your body gravitated towards him like a magnet in search of their other half.

Fuck it, you thought. 

Fingers tapping against the screen, you willed yourself to send the text message before you had the mind to back out and erase it, and the moment your phone quietly pinged once the text had gone through, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Hey, Simon! If you have time, I have some pastries for you to try at my job, and I’d love it if you stopped by!

Pocketing your phone, you returned back to work, busying yourself with the freshly baked goodies that were out of the oven.

Hours passed, and nighttime fell like a weighted blanket over the expanse of your workplace. It was your night to close, and seeing as you were feeling rather joyful today, you allowed the other workers to head home early for the night, leaving you to do closing tasks by yourself.

Really, you were waiting for Simon to show up, leaving yourself open for company until the very last moment. You piled up the chairs, swept the floors, wiped every station down, and counted all the money from the sales for the day.

The sign on the door was shut down, neon lights dimmed to display CLOSED for any stray passersby who may have been craving a late night sweet.

Just like the telltale sign of emptiness in the store, there was an emptiness in Simon’s presence.

He hadn’t shown up. You tried not to beat yourself up about it, thinking perhaps he didn’t see the text. Maybe he got wrapped up in his own life – after all, the two of you were only friendly with one another, if you could even call it that.

Maybe to him, you weren’t even friends like you had labeled it. You were a charity case of a broken girl he simply wanted to help keep living.

No. You shouldn’t think that way. You had a great day. You finally had some sort of remembrance of the woman you once were long before the anguish and the agony, and you accomplished the day with a smile on your own.

Though, when you closed up the store and checked your phone in silent hopefulness, you felt a sense of foreboding disappointment wash over you like crashing waves attempting to drown out all of the achievements you’d made today.

Read at 6:47PM.

Walking home felt like a treacherous drag of your feet. It was like your shoes were filled with cement, scraping along the pavement of the sidewalk with every step towards your apartment with a piercing sound of gravel on gravel. The stairs had your legs feeling weighed down and solid, anchoring you to the floor and forcing you to use every fabric of muscle in your body in order to make it to the top step.

In fact, everything felt heavy.

You had made progress today, such amazing progress, and now the pressure of misreading the signs from Simon had made you tentative.

Maybe you really did misinterpret what Simon wanted with you.

You thought that after he’d broken into your house numerous times, aided you back to the security of your bed after a drunken night, had given you his number, and told you his real name instead of continuing the persona of Ghost, things may have been escalating into the desired friendship you fiercely needed.

You liked being around him so much that it was possible you had created a bond in your mind that he didn’t seem to reciprocate.

The torture of your sorrowful mind was feeding into the woefulness of a clear reality, so much so, you hadn’t noticed the large figure standing at your door, patiently waiting for your return.

A soft rumbling of your name lured you out of the prison of your own consciousness, and it took you only seconds to recognize the voice as the very one that was tangling your thoughts in webs, capturing you and keeping you hostage.

“Simon!” you exclaimed in relieved surprise, examining the way he was leaned up against the wall beside your door, his frequent mask obscuring the view of his face as always. His arms crossed over his chest, and if you didn’t know him, you would’ve thought he was a bodyguard with the way he presented with such masculine storminess that clouded the air with warning and danger.

“There you are,” he greeted kindly, and the warmth in his tone had any lingering doubt fade away like a gas dissolving into an abyss. “Was waitin’ up for you.”

Your face broke out into a genuine smile, that slight soreness from your cheeks twinging at the sudden tug of skin.

“I was closing up my work. Waited around just in case you showed, so I took a bit longer than normal,” you explained sheepishly.

He let out a soft hum, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Got caught up with some things. Wasn’t able to make it, so I figured I’d wait outside your apartment instead of breakin’ in like I always do. Didn’t want to scare you, love.”

Your heart soared at the nickname, unable to contain its joyful leaps of pleasure. All disappointment you felt from before was forgotten and forgiven, and you wanted to revel in the time spent with your newfound companion.

“You seem awfully chirpy today. What’s got the pretty girl in such a good mood, hm?” Simon raised his eyebrow from beneath his balaclava, and you shifted awkwardly on your feet.

“Just woke up in a good mood today. Is that a crime?” you asked with a teasing smile.

Simon snorted out a quiet laugh, shaking his head in retaliation.

“S’not a crime, sweetheart. Just a pretty sight s���all,” he offered, filling your chest with pride. “What’s this about pastries?”

It dawned on you that you should’ve brought some home with you, even if you had no idea he would’ve been waiting outside your door. You silently cursed yourself for not snagging a few from the selection. You weren’t sure what kind of pastries he liked, and now that he made his appearance, albeit late, you were boiling over with curiosity on finding out.

“Ah, I didn’t bring any home,” you explained apologetically, and you couldn’t bear to hear the disappointed hum from him. “But I can make some in my apartment if you’d like. May not be as good, but I can give that piece of shit oven a try.”

That roused a laugh from him and he straightened himself off of the wall, gesturing with a hand to your door.

“S’alright with me. Lead the way, pretty girl.”

Simon’s eyes never strayed far from you as you worked your magic in the cramped space of the kitchen. Flour covered the countertops, painting them in a gritty beige as you kneaded the heels of your palms into the forming dough, tongue poked out in concentration.

You could feel the weight of his gaze piercing through you, and you tried not to let it affect your limbo. This time around, the nervousness felt different. It wasn’t an intimidated furl in your lungs that threatened to restrict your airflow, or a choked up lump in your throat that you could never quite swallow down.

No. This was shyness.

It felt like his eyes were interrogating you, digesting your embodiment and creating an outlook of you in his mind. You had no idea what he was thinking as he stared at your powdery hands that shaped out dough, or the sprinkle of flour that pestered your cheek, or even the way your hair repeatedly fell in your eyes and you’d be forced to blow it away with a puff of air.

It was prying, it was focused, it was immersed.

He didn’t dare say a word, but he didn’t need to in order for you to grow flustered in his presence. His gaze was enough to cause a rupture in your chest, tickling you with the fluttering wings of butterflies that soared freely from their entrapment.

The feeling was strange, foreign, and dare you say it, appreciated.

Eyes had never studied you like a work of art before, taking in every brush and stroke on the canvas and perceiving it in their own perspective. What that perspective was, though, remained a mystery.

“Baking’s your thing, eh?” He spoke once your treats were securely placed in the oven, mitts covering the plains of your hands.

“It was,” you admitted with a nod, tugging the mitts off and placing them on a clean space of the counter. Your mess still needed to be tended to, so you made quick work of it, focusing your attention on the grains of flour that plastered themselves like annoying bits of sand that seemed to spread no matter where you cleaned.

“Looks like it still is,” he corrected you, and you glanced up to see a glimmer of a smile behind his eyes.

“Alright,” you sighed, smiling. “It is. Now, anyway. It wasn’t for a long time, though.”

He hummed, leaning his arms on the counter and watching as you swept the stubborn bits of flour into your trashcan. His eyes followed every movement of your nimble fingers, sticky dough caked under your fingernails.

“I’d say you’re startin’ to get a piece of your old self back, don’t you think so, love?”

“You didn’t even know my old self, Simon. In fact, you barely know me at all.”

“I’d like to.”

You froze in place, hands in the midst of wetting a towel to wipe up the remnants of the sheen of powder that tinted your dark countertops. You lifted your gaze to find him already staring at you, like he had been during the entire process of your home baking, and you felt weak under it. There was a slight falter in your knees that threatened to buckle, and a racing in your heart that caused your breath to get caught.

His words could go one of two ways, and the little pest in your mind was telling you it wasn’t the one you found yourself secretly hoping for.

That pest had festered so deep inside your brain, it laid its vile eggs there to harvest feelings of doubt, feelings of being unlovable. There wasn’t a world where Simon could grow to love you, nor was there a world where you could love yourself.

But that wasn’t all that true, was it? All it was was doubt. Not fact, far from truth.

“You shouldn’t say things like that to a woman,” you muttered, dipping your head back down to pry yourself from his gaze.

“I’m saying them to you,” he claimed, so shameless in the way he voiced it.

“It’s only day seven. Get back to me when it’s day fourteen.”

You could tell he smiled under his mask from the way his eyes lit up, and he gave you an amused snort, allowing you to bask in silence and gather your mind together.

You welcomed it, needing your inner voice to run astray rather than fill you with the probability of letting Simon in deeper than a friendship. You had a long way to go, and you had a pressing feeling that Simon wouldn’t be going anywhere all that soon.

The dinging of your timer had you regaining concentration on the original task at hand, taking your pastries out of the oven and decorating them with assortments of frosting and glazes.

Baking was what permitted yourself to calm, brain floating peacefully down a trickling river and sunbathe in a pool of warmth. Thinking could come later.

When Simon snatched up one of the pastries from the tray, he lifted the lower half of his mask to greedily shove a bite in his mouth. He chewed, digesting the delightful flavors that melted on his tongue, before giving you a soft smile.

“Is it good?” you asked wearily, and he finished off the treat as an answer to your question. Pride swelled in your bones, and you let yourself smile back at him.

“Damn good baker, you are. Reckon you’ll get even better after our deal’s up.”

Simon and his damn deal.

The mention of it would normally make you cower to the inner part of yourself that was unhealed, but this time, you laughed brightly, agreeing to tuning up your recipes in an unforeseeable future.

softer chapter before more angst to come 🤝 i also have a profession as a baker so this was fun for me to write + simon with a sweet tooth is cute

[jessejaredstories]

Walk on the Wild Side

Sergio was a walking gay man’s fantasy. He was tall and muscular as fuck. Beefy could barely even begin to describe him as everything from his biceps, chest, thighs, back, and even ass were massive! He made his living off of flexing his hot body as well as fucking other beefy dudes on camera. Sergio was truly living the life many could only dream of having.

But although Sergio was living the good life, he couldn't deny that something was missing. More specifically, something about his sex life. Sergio loved his very active sex life and was more often than not satisfied after every hookup he had. Yet at the same time, Sergio found himself wanting more. He wanted something new, and he knew exactly who to contact. Kris the Kink Witch.

Sergio reached out to Kris through Twitter DMs. Kris, like Sergio, also made his living off of recording and selling the videos of his gay escapades. He was known to be one incredibly kinky motherfucker online, and he took great pride in it too- as evidenced by his self proclaimed title the Kink Witch. But unlike Sergio, Kris took a much more professional approach to his line of work. For Kris, it wasn't about pleasure, it was about money. He meant business, and he never shied away from demonstrating that fact.

Fortunately, Sergio was also pretty well-known in the online gay community. Kris recognized Sergio and responded back to him within a couple of minutes. Their conversation went as follows...

S: Hey, you're the Kink Witch right? I've got a request in mind.

K: Yo. Yeah that's me. You want to film a collab together?

S: Not at all. I was actually thinking you and I can link up and have some fun. No cameras. 

K: Sorry, I don't do charity work. 

S: Trust me, I don't either. I just need to have some real fun and I know someone like you can help me out with that goal. I'll pay you a good amount too if you're interested.

K: Go on, I'm listening...

Sergio and Kris went on to negotiate the deal. In exchange for a kinky night of fun, Sergio would pay Kris $2500 in cold, hard cash. However, in order to earn that money, Kris needed to get Sergio to cum and to feel real pleasure while doing it too. But before they could seal the deal, Sergio gave Kris a heads-up by saying that he had already done almost everything anyone can think of. If it wasn't something new and exciting like he wanted, then Sergio had no problem calling the deal off. Yet despite his stark warning, Kris accepted the deal without any hesitation. It slightly unnerved Sergio how confident Kris was. He was pretty sure they both had more or less the same amount of experience when it came to sex. Could Kris really know something Sergio didn't?

Regardless of the initial unease Sergio felt, it was too late to back down now. Kris was already on his way to his apartment. Sergio passed the time by doing the usual prep work of cleaning himself out, just as Kris told him to. Yet despite his best efforts to distract himself, Sergio couldn't help but wonder what Kris had in store for him.

Does this twink really think he's gonna satisfy me just by fucking me? Ha! I've already taken on plenty of men, there's nothing new he can do there! 

Sergio chuckled at his own thoughts. His curiosity was making his mind run wild. Luckily it didn't take much longer for Kris to arrive. He showed up at the entrance of the building and Sergio buzzed him in. Sergio then welcomed the young man into his home, and although he was excited to hook up, he couldn't help but wonder if he was in over his head by hiring some 20 something year old dude with messy hair and a dirty hoodie. 

"Alright, you ready?" Kris said as he began to strip down to nothing but his underwear. 

"Yeah, do you wanna go-" 

"Wrong answer," Kris interrupted Sergio. "I'll excuse the first mistake but you'll only address me as Sir, Daddy, or Papi from here on out. Got it?" 

Sergio was thrown off by how to-the-point Kris was but decided to just ignore it. 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Good boy, now whip out your cock. Get hard too,"

Sergio did as he was told. Kris did the same. Sergio was impressed with Kris' member. It was long and hairy with some decent girth too. Although his was definitely longer, Sergio's cock was the thicker one. They were both hung, Sergio like a bull and Kris like a horse. Once they were both erect, Kris reached down to his pants. He pulled out two rings out of the back pocket, one gold and one silver. He put the gold ring on, then handed the silver cock ring to Sergio.

"Put this on, then on the count of 3, twist it to the right."

Sergio held the cock ring in his hand. The silver hue of the ring almost seemed to glimmer under the light. He hesitated putting it on. It definitely wasn't the first time he wore a cock ring, but Sergio got an inexplicable feeling telling him that he shouldn't put it on. Kris noticed his hesitation right away.

"C'mon, don't be shy, put it on!" Kris said firmly. Sergio looked up and met his gaze but didn't say anything. A moment of silence passed, then Kris sighed.

"Look man, you paid me to do a job and I plan to deliver. You trust me, right?" 

Kris seemed slightly more empathetic now. It was just enough to make Sergio trust him. Sergio nodded, then proceeded to put on the ring. He placed it on the tip of his dick and slid it down to the base of his rock hard member. 

"Alright, ready? 1... 2... 3!!!"

Sergio and Kris then twisted their cock rings to the right at the same time. The moment they did, a wave of orgasmic sensations hit their bodies, causing them to throw their heads back with pleasure. 

"UURRGGGHHHHH!!!" They both moaned obscenely loudly. 

Sergio's vision blurred as he felt the wave of pleasure overtake him. His body trembled as the ring grew tighter around his cock, making it engorged. Then suddenly, Sergio became extremely lightheaded. He could feel his very soul leaving his body. As his soul stepped out of its vessel, Sergio lost all physical feeling as he became nothing but a mass of light. He looked ahead and saw the same had happened to Kris. Both of their souls had just stepped out of their bodies!

Sergio was mind blown by what he was seeing. But before he could even react, his soul began moving on its own. His soul was floating towards Kris' body. At the same time, Kris was floating towards his body. During the brief moment they passed each other, Sergio could've sworn he saw Kris smirking. His soul continued its march towards Kris' body, and as soon as it made contact, it began sinking into the soulless body. Sergio's soul aligned with its new vessel within seconds. Every single cell of Kris' was invaded by Sergio's soul, and he could feel ecstasy wash over him as his soon-to-be new body surrended itself to his control. Once it was done, Sergio immediately felt the difference as he longer possessed his jacked, beefy body but instead a hairy twink like Kris. 

"Arghh fuckk.. what the fuck..." Sergio said with his new voice. All of the extraordinary sensations he just experienced made him fall to the ground. While he was busy trying to recover, he could see his body moving out of the corner of his eyes. 

"Bro look at these fucking pecs! These are some massive slabs of meat on your chest!!" 

Sergio watched as Kris bounced and groped his pecs with shameless joy. Slowly but surely, while Kris was enjoying himself, Sergio came back to his senses. He sat up, then kneeled down onto his knees. Well, Sergio was mostly back to his senses anyway. The sight of seeing a burly man play his own chest was filling him with lust. The only thing on Sergio's mind was how to best worship and please his master. 

Kris noticed Sergio was basically drooling and smirked.

"What's the matter, you want something?" Kris stripped down naked, then bounced his pecs again. Sergio nodded his head vigorously. "Then ask for it, tell Daddy what you want."

"I want milk Daddy..." Sergio said with bated breath and dilated pupils. "Please, Sir, let me worship your beautiful pecs!" 

"Good boy," Kris put his thumb on Sergio's chin and flicked it down, leaving his mouth hanging open with his tongue out. "Now show your Daddy what you can do with that mouth."

As soon as he heard he got permission, Sergio couldn't contain himself anymore and pounced onto Kris. He immediately planted his mouth on one of Kris' nipples and began suckling away while Kris enjoyed getting serviced. He was smirking all the while. His plan had gone off perfectly; the cock rings switched their bodies! That was the kink Kris had planned for Sergio, and he knew it would be the fun night he could've never predicted. After all, nobody knew how literal his title of Kink Witch was. But while Sergio was aware that they switched bodies, there was one little detail Kris kept to himself. Both rings would allow a body swap, but only the gold one would let the user retain their original personality. Because Sergio used the silver cock ring, his soul was forced to absorb Kris' hidden total sub personality when it took over his body. It might still be Sergio in mind and spirit, but it was now Kris in personality. With Kris possessing Sergio's muscular body with his mind still intact, the conditions were now set for him to complete the request Sergio made. 

"FUCK yeah, just like that!" Kris moaned. He could feel as Sergio alternated between licking, sucking, and flicking his nipple with his tongue. His warm mouth felt amazing against his sensitive nipples. Kris pressed Sergio's face down into his chest. Sergio let out a muffled groan of pleasure as he motorboated Kris. They were both having the time of their lives, filling the room with their sensual moans. 

Kris let Sergio worship his chest for a while longer before moving onto the next phases. Within the span of the next half hour, they made out passionately and intensely. Kris stuck his tongue inside Sergio's mouth as they grinded their bodies together, sharing their body heat together. Kris then began moving his mouth down Sergio's body, covering his neck and torso with hickies as he bit and sucked on his body. All while Kris had his middle finger firmly set inside Sergio's ass, massaging his hole and making him squirm while he claimed him as his sub. 

Then, before the final act, Kris tore Sergio off his body. He had a hand wrapped around his throat, lightly choking the panting young man. Sergio's eyes were lit with an intense lust, begging and desperate for more. Kris smiled internally. He had him right where he wanted him.

"Fuck, Boy!! You really know how to please your Master, I wanna give you a reward... Are you ready? Are you ready for Daddy's present for his favorite sub?" 

Sergio whispered "yes Sir, please Sir." Kris then pulled out a couple more things he brought and gave them to Sergio, who put them on enthusiastically. 

Sergio laid there with his ass perked up. Kris came up from behind and laid his big, strong hands on Sergio's perky cheeks. He massaged him first, letting Sergio's bubble butt jiggle in his hands for a bit. He then spread his cheeks apart and leaned down to stick his tongue deep inside his ass.

"Nghh..." Sergio groaned. He could feel Kris' tongue swirl and flick around inside of him and it. Felt. AMAZING. 

Kris ate Sergio out for a while, making sure his ass was nice, wet, and ready for his girthy cock. Once he had enough of using his tongue, Kris got back up and positioned himself just above Sergio. He let his dick rest in between his cheeks and moved it up and down, making Sergio squirm in anticipation. Then, with a wide grin on his face, Kris stuck his dick inside of Sergio. He let out a silent "fuck..." as he watched his cock head penetrate his bound up sub. He thrusted slowly, letting inch by inch of his fat member disappear into Sergio's hole. Kris was proud of his tight and warm hole, and now he finally got a chance to fuck himself in a very literal way. He waited a bit to let Sergio's wall expand to accommodate his dick, then began pounding away at him. 

Loud obscene moans, guttural groans, and boorish grunts filled the room as the two men fucked. Kris found the perfect rhythm to move his hips, fucking Sergio like he was a jackhammer. Sergio closed his eyes as he took the dicking down like a champ. Somewhere in the back of his head was the vague memory that he and Kris had switched bodies. The thought of getting fucked by his own body made his pleasure increase tenfold. It was his own cock stretching out his hole and rearranging his insides. It was a strange thought, but Sergio didn't care. All he could think about was how he was Daddy's personal fleshlight and how much he was loving servicing a big, strong man like Daddy. 

They fucked for a while longer until Kris couldn't hold his load in any longer. He pulled out, flipped Sergio over, tore off the jockstrap, then stuck his cock back on.

"C'MON! CUM FOR ME! COVER ME WITH YOUR- FUCKKKKK!!!!"

Kris finished mid sentence. He rammed his throbbing dick deep inside Sergio and let out all of his loads inside of him. Hearing Kris' satisfied groaning as he cummed along with the sensation of getting filled with his seed made Sergio shootout ropes of warm jizz all over. Within seconds, they had both become incredibly sweaty, potently musky, and drenched in Sergio's spunk. Sergio got his walk on the wild side and Kris completed his job.

Once they cooled down and cleaned up, Sergio collapsed onto his bed. Aside from the mind blowing sex, he was also exhausted by swapping bodies. He was a first time swapper after all, it was only natural. 

But just before he could drift away into a deep sleep, he noticed Kris was still moving around with his body.

"Hey... what are you doing?"

"Daddy's gonna go have a night out with his bros. Don't worry about it, just go to sleep."

Kris hopped into bed with Sergio. He kissed him on the forehead, snuggled with him, and watched as he fell asleep in his embrace. Sergio was way too tired to question it, and Kris was glad. Kris then hopped out of bed and let Sergio rest inside his body while he went out to complete his next assignment: find a hairy, muscle bear with a big ass. Now it was his turn to bottom, and although Sergio woke up the next morning not knowing where Master was with his body, he had no problem patiently and eagerly waiting until Daddy returned home.

[persephonesdreams21]

NSFW Alphabet with Kyle

A/N: So like, I’ve had this in my drafts forever and I finally got around to tidying it up(sort of) and finishing it. In a perfect world where I had free time, I’d love to do headcannons for all of Timmy’s characters. In reality I’ll probably only get a few more in,

Warnings: NSFW. Smut- def talks of dom/sub undertones and just generally horny themes. I mean, the title is very self explanatory. Kyle x AFAB! Reader

After Care(what they're like after sex):

The first time you have sex with Kyle, aftercare isn’t a practice he’s ever partook in. He comes and makes you come and then is ready to pop a cigarette in his mouth and call it a night.

This rubs you all the way wrong.

Has you wobbling out of bed and pulling on your clothes in a furious, flustered silence.

“What are you doing- hey. Y/N. What the hell?” He watches you, big green eyes accusatory as you prepare to leave. Your steps shaky and uncoordinated. He hadn’t exactly gone easy on you. “Sit down, you can barely walk”

“Like you care” you scoff. “it’s fine, I’m just gonna go”

He sighs, not one for dramatics that aren’t his own. “You’re gonna hurt yourself”

“I’m not some random piece of ass that you can screw and discard, Kyle. Fuck you very much for thinking so” your words are venomous and sharp, but your bottom lip is wobbling. Your eyes are stormy and still slightly unfocused and woah.

Holy shit. He’s a douchebag but he’s not an idiot. He spends way too much time online and he’s able to put together what’s going on pretty damn quick.

You’re dropping.

He can’t let you leave like this. Hell, you shouldn’t be up from bed much less driving in this state..

Kyle doesn’t do aftercare, we’ll at least he hadn’t before.

It’s all kind of clunky, him bullying your purse from your weak hands and batting away any resistance. Him sitting you on the edge of his bed and leaving, just long enough, to return with a glass of water and a stray granola bar. He sits close by, hovering. His hand a solid, but silent comfort on your thigh.

You don’t cry, won’t in front of him, but god do you want to.

You end up stripped back down to your panties and under his plaid comforter once he deems you hydrated enough.

He still smokes his after-sex cig, but this time he has you tucked into his side. Your cheek smushed to his chest as he puffs on nicotine. The fingers of his free hand dancing along the skin of your back.

He’d deny it, but he’s a sucker for aftercare now.

Body Part)their fave body part of theirs, and of their partners

Kyle likes his height. He enjoys towering over crowds, being the tallest person in the room. It makes him feel strong(and like when he was little he was a shrimp- he had a late growth spurt in 9th grade)

Kyle likes your hands. They’re all teeny and delicate and he tends to play with your fingers absentmindedly. He also likes the pudge on your sides. They’re called love handles for a reason. Any time he reaches for them you screech and shy away but like. That doesn’t stop him ever.

Cum(anything to do with it)

He’s the first man to ever make you squirt and yeah, that goes to his head a little bit. He’ll finger fuck you until youre sobbing and clawing at his arms, whimpering at the mess that he seems to love.

Dirty Secret(self explanatory)

He’s a panty thief. Will literally steal your panties and keep them(and sniff them, often). You complain about it, because he’s such a weirdo and because cute underwear can get expensive! He doesn’t care.

Experience(how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

For how much sex he’s had he lowkey wasn’t great at it when you guys started fooling around. Or maybe it’s that he never cared- to get good at getting his partner off. Kyle is a selfish lover. You def teach him all the tricks in your book on how to make you feel good. And once that boy knows? He KNOWS. He’s able to flip you over and make you come in two minutes flat.

Favorite Position(this goes without saying)

Kyle loves doggy. He wants you bent over, unable to do anything but take him. Also partial to reverse cowgirl.

Goofy(are they more serious in the moment? Are they goofy?)

He is soooo serious it’s almost laughable. He gets offended when you laugh at the smoldering look on his face while he fucks you. It makes you nervous- you can’t help but giggle.

Hair(how well groomed they are)

Very well groomed. Neatly trimmed. He can’t pretend he doesn’t care about societal norms all he wants, Kyle is a total preener and loves taking care of his appearance. I mean, look at his hair. You just know it takes him a ridiculous amount of time to do in the morning.

Intimacy(how they are during the moment? The romantic aspect)

At first- intimacy isnt even in Kyles vocabulary. He doesnt know how, he doesnt understand it. It makes him feel awkward as hell. Slowly but surely as your relationship developes he starts to crave it. He wants you to stare into his eyes while you ride him, your fingers interlocked. Its tantric. Addicting.

Jack Off(masturbation headcanon)

Porn addict. All conspiracy obsessed, internet surfing boys are. He loves reading Manga and watching anime porn. You’ll indulge him and watch it with him sometimes.

“Hey, I have a toy that looks just like that!” You make the offhanded comment as the two of you watch an animated girl with big tits in a school uniform getting railed by a tentacle monster.

You’re immersed in the video. The raunchy sounds of high pitched squealing and skin slapping fill the quiet room. The blinds are drawn and the two of you lie cuddled together in his bed.

Kyle stares at you. His brain short circuiting.

You’d said it so casually. You have a toy- that looks just like the giant tentacle on his computer screen.

“You’re lying” he deadpans and it makes you giggle.

“Maybe one day I’ll show you” you shrug and like. What the fuck. Where did you even come from?

When you send him a short video of a pink glass tentacle dildo sliding in and stretching your wet hole…well let’s say that he doesn’t have to turn to his anime porn for spank bank material anymore.

Kink(one or more of their kinks)

Kyle loves overstimulation and edging. Both him doing it to you and you doing it to him. Like full on tears, shaking, emotional breakdowns, orgasms that are so good they hurt. Ugh. It’s his favorite.

Location(favorite places to do the do?)

Anywhere. Although, he def has a thing for sliding inside of you after a show. The adrenaline of playing live still coursing through his veins as he crowds you into the handicapped stall of some grimy venue bathroom and fucks you raw, his jeans around his ankles.

Motivation(what turns them on? Get’s them going?)

He loves it when you’re jealous. He's not ignorant to the way that women(and men tbh) look at him. React to him. It's always been this way, really it doesn't phase him anymore.

But you? You hate that shit.

You hate the way you can be holding his hand, and still girls will come up to him. Wink at him from across the room, waitresses leaving their phone numbers on napkins. Its maddening,

Kyle reassures you with words, with kisses and promises. He’s yours. He isn't interested in wasting energy on any of them. You're his only girl.

Still, the way you stake your claim makes him feral. When you suck bruises into his throat or wrap your arms around his waist. Don't even get him started on the time that you threw a drink in that girls face at that one party(she’d told Kyle he had like, the best hair, and reached for his dark curls. Her hand never even made it close) its just so hot. Knowing that you want him that much,

No(something they wouldn't do? Turns off’s)

So he likes it when you’re jealous, right? But you making him jealous? Is completely off the table. He will, and has, freaked out about it. He could never do threesomes or any kind of group play, he’d lose his shit.

Oral(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc?

Kyle loves getting head. “Selfish lover alert”. It’s a chore you’re happy to perform, you love suckling at his big cock. Playing with his pink tip-

But like. He also enjoys going down on you. When the two of you first started sleeping together, you were really self conscious about it. Something about your shitty ex not liking the mess. Which like, he’ll never understand.

Your pussy is so gorgeous. All puffy and pretty for him, swollen and sopping wet. Hes such a tease with his quick tongue and little kisses. It’s not until you’re writhing and begging and forcing his dark haired head deeper that he really goes to town.

Pace(are they fast and rough, slow and sensual?)

The mans good with his hips, it's the musician in him. He has rhythm. But he is still just a young man, and he does end up getting sloppy and messy towards the end. Chasing his high like a mad man

Quickie(their opinions on quickies, how often?)

Loves a good quickie- but you’re not a huge fan. He’s very good at convincing you though, at dragging you into dark corners and palming at your body through your clothes.

Risk(are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Yup, he loves that shit. He's such an exhibitionist You warn him that it is in fact, illegal. That public indecency can end in heavy fines, “The sex offenders list, Ky! I’m serious!”

But like, you always end up caving. Letting him fuck your brains out in his car. Spreading your legs when he reaches under the restaurant table, his fingers grazing your soft inner thigh, playing with your clit through your panties. If you wore a skirt for easy access…well thats your own business.

Stamina(how many rounds can they go? How long can they last?)

He’s a lazy little thing, I just know it. You get a couple rounds out of him and then he’s laying back and demanding you ride him, your turn to do the work.

“You’re my pillow princess, huh, baby?” you purr as you climb ontop of him, rubbing your wet slit along his flagging erection. You know he’ll get back to full hardness soon enough.

For now, he lies back, hands behind his head. Lounging, barley awake, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. You give his plump lips a wet smack and they twitch up in amusement.

“Princess? Whatever” He sasses, feigning offense. Even as he lets you do all the work, reaching between your own legs to fist at his cock, leading the head to your waiting hole.

“Prince then” you smile as you sink down and he groans, the veins in his neck straining as he throws his head back into the soft down pillows. He’s more than happy to let you do all the work.

Toys(do they own toys? Will they use them?)

He’s bleh about them. I think he’s inquisitive by nature, and likes to think of himself as explorative but like- he doesn't want anything but his cock filling you and making you feel good. He does enjoy watching you use them on yourself,

Unfair(how much they like to tease)

He is the absolute WORST tease. He loves riling you up. It makes him so hot, the way he can get you so desperate for him.

Volume(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

Kyle’s a quiet lover, he grits his teeth and lets out long sighs You love getting him to crack, making him moan and writhe and gasp.

X-Ray(let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I’d hate to say this because he already has a massive ego, but he has a pretty big dick too. Maybe right above garage. 7 inches. Long, but heavy.

Yearning(how high is their sex drive?)

When he wants it- he NEEDS it. Like. He’s very dramatic and takes high offense to you withholding yourself from him. Its as annoying as it is flattering.

Zzz(how quickly they fall asleep after)

He’s knocked the FUCK out. Quickly. This man has fallen asleep with his softening cock still inside of you. He’s your big baby and once he’s drunk on your kisses hes a goner.

“Your pussy’s better than indica, baby” he tells you once, only half joking and you snort and hit him square in the face with the nearest pillow.

[sundrop-writes]

Okay but Emily or JJ kinks headcanons?

Okay, nothing fancy or over-edited, right off the top of my head:

(Reader is intended to gender neutral - let me know if I flubbed anywhere, and there is mentions of Will x JJ. I'm not gonna list the kinks like I would for a typical fic because this is basically just a big list of kinks lmao. Don't click through if you're uncomfortable with mentions of BDSM and anal.)

Emily would have a Mommy kink.

But she would also have a Mistress kink? Or she would love being called M'am. She would love a title. She loves it when you call her by a title that nobody else can call her.

I feel like Emily would be the type of person who would love BDSM as a lifestyle - she would love casual dominance and being called by her title being closed doors even if you're not engaged in a sexual act. She would be obsessed with having a partner who is willing to strip naked and wait, sitting pretty for her when she comes home.

She would also love collaring for that reason - because she would love the idea of owning you. (She would also definitely get you a pet tag with her name on it, or something that says 'property of Emily'.) And she would get you some kind of necklace with the letter E on it to wear casually in public so people subtly know that you're hers when you're not wearing your collar.

She loves the idea of owning you, not just because she sees you as property, but because she understands under the BDSM lifestyle, she takes care of you fully - making sure that you eat, drink enough water, take care of your health, and she will fully assume that role because taking care of you means that she gets to come home to a willing fuckhole that she can use however she wants, and she will take care of your body because she loves you and loves that body - as much as she will punish you and fuck you senseless when you both need that too.

She has a strap and she loves to use it on you. She also definitely loves to fuck you in the ass - with lots and lots of lube. She loves fucking all your holes, including your throat. (Because she owns them.)

I feel like Emily would have a pain kink. She definitely loves delivering pain and seeing you squirm (as long as you're into it) - she loves spanking and seeing the results; seeing how you can barely walk or sit down properly days after. And she might use a tool like a paddle or a flogger, but she loves a good ole fashioned hand spanking, because she loves feeling the glow on her palm of the skin to skin collisions.

She is also obsessed with rules. It's one of the reasons that she loves BDSM. She will make so many rules for you - when you can cum, when you can and can't touch yourself, when you can use your toys, what specific consequences you get if you break the rules.

She will also make rules for when you're supposed to eat and that you're supposed to eat healthy, and how much water you're supposed to drink in a day - because she demands that your (slutty) body belongs to her, and you have to take care of it if you want her to touch you.

Emily is a hard dom in my opinion - I don't think she would sub for anyone. She loves being in charge, and she is looking for a pet that she can fuck senseless and take care of - that's what she wants out of a relationship.

As for JJ?

JJ is a lot softer.

I think JJ is a switch. I think JJ could be a sub to the right person (and that person is not Will - in that relationship, she walks him like a dog. Henry was conceived by Will begging to nut and JJ giving him permission) - anyway, JJ could be a sub, but it would have to be to a really bossy, demanding person (like Emily) - otherwise she is dominant and bossy and in control.

JJ probably also has a Mommy kink. It's probably not something she would ask to be called - but she would love it if it slipped out of your mouth by accident, and she would be sooo turned on by you calling her that.

I feel like JJ would have a thing for pet names - she would call you baby, honey, sweetie, sweet pea, etc. she would call you so many different pet names, and if she found one that really made you shy or turned you on, then she would press on with that one and call you that all the time. She loves getting a reaction out of you.

She loves soft sex and making love. She is the type of person to kiss all over your body and body worship you with her mouth - definitely into heavy, heavy verbal praise. Again, she loves getting a reaction out of you, and if she sees that verbal praise makes you shrink back in shyness or makes you moan extra hard, then she will pour it on even thicker - tell you how perfect you are, how beautiful you are, how gorgeous you look while you're cumming.

She also loves teasing. She loves to see your reaction when your body slowly winds up - when you're becoming more turned on, when your muscles are tensing and your hips are surging forward toward her touch, silently begging for more. In this same vein, she also does enjoy orgasm denial (but not to a severe degree) - because she loves to wind you up and see how whiny and desperate you get when she pulls back her touch right before you cum. She does love to hear you beg for her and say her name when you beg to cum - but she is the type of person to only deny you once (maybe twice) before letting you cum.

Aaaaand what else ? JJ is super touchy imo. So I feel like she would love running her hands all over your body during sex, and she would need cuddles after sex. She loves skin on skin touching when it's simple and gentle on top of mindblowing orgasms (and giving you orgasms).

(That's all I've got for now).

[romanticoms]

plug in baby

title inspo plug in baby by muse (i worship this song, has nothing to do with the fic i just love it.. 🤤)

18+ MDNI / fem!reader x bf!leon, voyeurism(?), oral (f receiving), p in v, praising, mild breeding kink, petnames (baby, good girl)

a/n: oh my god.. i have no idea what got to me, not proofread cuz i woke up at 3 in the morn to write this (crazy fuckin' coincidence, i know)

oh yeah another note: this was from months back (nearly a year) so do what you must with this info and hold low expectations i guess !

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒─────⭒─⭑──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

It's 3 am, you know you shouldn't be awake now, let alone bother your boyfriend— for your needs; but fuck, you could feel yourself soaking in arousal. You knew you were too bothered and tired to take care of it, you'd just rest your thighs tightly together, creating some form of friction to ease yourself. Leon wasn't a heavy sleeper, he'd jolt up over the sound of a pin drop and such. You watched him closely, on one hand you were getting off to his bare body in his peaceful slumber, on the other you were keeping an eye out, a part of you hoped he would wake up.

Before you knew it, you slid your own hand under the band of your shorts, another caressing your breast, letting out faint mewls as you fucked yourself. Ultimately you thought nothing was better than this, your moans brought Leon out of his peaceful sleep, his eyes fluttered open before his gaze met yours, then your needy body. "Fuck, can't just leave me out of this," His voice was groggy as he spoke. Leon waited for your approval, he pulled you closer upon watching you nod a couple of times, affirming your consent. Both hands tugged on the sides of your shorts before sliding them right off. "So fucking wet, huh?" He slurred. Your body was splayed over the sheets, your hands gripped either sides of your pillow while his fingers curled inside you, leaving you with almost no time to reply. His fingers fucked your insides ruthlessly as your body was forced to lie still, "L-Leon, 'm gonna cum," you whined. "Fuck, can't get you doing that yet, sweetheart— not after you woke me up like that." He teased as he pulled his fingers back, "Open up for me, baby." You complied immediately, letting his two fingers that were laced with your slick to be cleaned up by your mouth.

He brought his hand back to your thighs as he rested his face right near your soaking pussy, spreading your legs even wider as he pressed kisses across your cunt. "'M gonna fuck'er nice, baby," He slurred before flicking his tongue across your insides, nosed on your clit as he watched you squirm, one hand gripped your wrist while the other rested on your thigh. You were once again in that very high, so close to your orgasm, and it was more than apparent. "Not yet, sweetheart." He tested once again before continuously pressing pecks on your clit before they turned sloppy, getting much more than a taste each and every time he savoured your pussy. "Leon, please, y'can't keep—" You pleaded, he still refused to give you what you wanted.

His face turned back after a strip of saliva lead from your pussy all the way to your breasts, his tongue flicked on your sensitive bud as the other had been fiddled and squeezed by his hand. He continued sucking on your tits before pulling back, making a pop noise as he did. He'd been breaking you with his endless teasing, fully aware you wanted more, which he'd eventually give you. You watched, breathless as he slapped his cock, throbbing, pre dripped from the tip before sliding it right through your entrance, your slick had coated more than enough, your arousal flared as he began thrusting through your velvet walls. "S'fucking tight, g'nna breed this tight pussy," He slurred while hovering over to your neck, placing sloppy kisses over and over throughout one part of your neck while he fucked you raw.

"Leon, can't.." You whimpered, "Of course you can," He darted back at you, spanking your ass red once or twice after raising your legs to rest over his shoulders all while mercilessly rutting against you. "P-please, 'm gonna cum.." You were at your final plea, adding a slight strain to your voice to show him your desperation to cum. "Yeah? 'M g'nna cum too, baby. C'mon, take it." He picked his pace up, groaning as he felt your nails scratch his back while he arched over you. "Fuck, take it." Both of your bodies shot up at once, feeling your high together as he relentlessly thrusted into you, strings of cum filled your insides as your orgasm came washing over.

"Knew you could, s'cha good girl for me," He pressed a chaste kiss over your forehead before pulling out, cum dripped from your cunt, his finger stopped the trail before fingering it back into you. "Don't waste a single drop of it, you asked for this." His honeyed voice now rough and assertive. Your body dropped back as you came down from your high.

[nightxcreature]

Don't Call Me (SoldierboyxReader)

Summary: Reader and Ben have an altercation after an interview gone wrong.

Warnings: Cursing, Verbal Threats (Homicide), Sexually exploiting women, Jealousy, Anger, Angst

Pairing: Soldierboy x Jealous!Reader

A/N: Number two for @jacklesversebingo 2024! This one is based off the prompt: "Got something to say about that?" "No." "Well, you look like you do." Prompt is in bold. As always, edited as well as I can and this one has been proofread lol Criticism welcome, reposts, likes, and comments adored. 💕

Part Two is out now! It's titled "Payback".

My leg feels like it’s shaking a million miles an hour, electricity radiating down my arms. We had been sitting in Vought headquarters for the last three hours doing interview after interview with the flirtiest journalist. Her blonde hair bounced past her shoulders, her boobs on display no matter where she turned, and the sickly-sweet smiles she sent Ben sent bile up my throat every time. He was eating it up, of course, he always did. It didn’t matter how many times I let him fuck me, He always ate up these stupid interviews. They praised him, practically stripping themselves bare to please his ego. It was always the same statements, ‘You’re the world’s greatest hero, Soldier-Boy.’ ‘What would we ever do without you, Soldier-Boy?’ ‘What’s it like being the strongest man alive?’ ‘Do you want to sign my tits?’ Okay…that last one only happened once, but that doesn’t change the fact that they never have anything to say to me. If he had brought Mindstorm or Black Noir, hell even the twins, I’m sure this interview would be going a completely different way. The men are always front and center for these girls; Crimson Countess, Stormfront, and I are the last on the list, and the jealousy that boils in my veins at that knowledge is second to none.

                Of course, watching her throw herself at him wasn’t helping the situation. I can’t keep the little green monster at bay whether thinking about her ignoring me or about him wanting her. I always wondered if he thought of me when they were shoving themselves at him; I know the answer, but maybe in a perfect world he thinks of kissing my lips, of my hands on his body and his mouth on mine, of our bodies moving together and our minds melding as one when… “Hey! Hey! I’ve been yelling at you forever, Y/N!”  His voice snaps me out of my fog, and I turn to face him as he continues, “What? Have you got a dick up your ass? Pay attention!”

                The journalist laughs as I nod, rubbing a hand up his arm, and my eyes narrow, “Sorry, we’ve been doing this for hours and it feels like we’re getting nowhere. Are there any important questions left, Sweetheart, or are you just gonna sit here and keep theoretically sucking him off?”

                Her head snaps back and her jaw drops as she takes in what I asked, “Ex-excuse me?”

                “Do you have any important questions for me, or should I just leave the two of you alone?” I repeat slowly, “I’m getting a little sick of watching you two eye-fuck each other when I could be a fifth of Jack deep in my hotel room by now.”

                “I-I didn’t write down an-any questions for you.” She stutters out and flips through the papers in her lap, “I’m sure I can think of something though.”

                I roll my eyes and stand, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got better shit to do than this.” Turning on my heel, I storm out of the room and down the hallway. I barely make it to the elevator before I hear Ben’s heavy boots behind me. “Got something to say about that?” I ask turning to look at him, his features cold. Arms crossed and jaw set, the little muscle there jumping as he breathes.

                “No.” He responds curtly, a slight shake of his head the only change in his demeanor.

                “Well, you look like you do.” I snap, stepping into the elevator as the doors open. He shoves in behind me and we ride down in silence.

Just before we reach the ground floor, he slams a hand down onto the Emergency Stop button and corners me into the back of the small area. His eyes are blazing, breathing ragged, and his hands blocking me in, the epitome of anger all rolled into one man.

                “What, Ben?” I ask annoyed, glancing at his forearms above my head, “I have places to be.”

                “What the fuck is your problem?” He cuts me off, the vein in his neck bulging as he glares down at me, “Do you think just because I fuck you that you get to be a bitch to everyone else that wants to fuck me, too?”

                “I don’t give a shit who gets in your bed.”

                “Yeah? It sure seemed like it back there.” He nods behind him and his frown deepens, “What the fuck is your problem?”

                I sigh and duck underneath him to start the elevator back up, but he snatches me by the hair and shoves me back into the corner, “I’m not done talking to you.”

                I shove him back, standing taller to get in his face, “Well, I’m done talking to you. Hell, I’m done talking about you! That’s all anyone wants to talk about.” My breathing begins to shake, and I can feel my eyes blazing as my voice raises, “Do you think all this came from having a sexual relationship with you? From me being jealous that other women are in bed with you? No, Ben! That bitch didn’t even have questions for me. If I have to be there to watch you flirt with these stupid women over and over, the least they could do is ask me something more than how uncomfortable my suit is if I gain a few pounds!”

                He rolls his eyes and takes a step closer to me, towering over me, “You’re seriously going to act like this over her asking the face of Payback a few questions? Get it through your fucking skull,” He spits, tapping a finger against my temple, “I am not your boyfriend. I am not your friend. I’m your boss, I use you for a good time and I leave. That’s it.”

                “Fuck you, Ben!”

                “You already did.”  He smirks and slides a hand behind him to press the button, “And you’ll do it again.”

                Shock reverberates through my body, and I can feel the electricity building in my palms at a rapid pace. I hate him. I hate his cocky attitude. I hate his stupid face. I hate that he’s right. God, I hate him. Unconsciously, I reach out to grab his arms, but he steps to the side as the doors slide open. A raise of his brow tells me that he knows just as well I do, he was a centimeter away from the shock of his life.

                “That would be the last thing you do, Sweetheart.” He whispers maliciously, “You’re a great lay, Y/N, but I’ll kill you before you can blink, and we both know it. That sweet pussy isn’t worth all this trouble.”

                I smile sweetly, a sudden surprising confidence taking over my body. I blink once, twice, and finally a third time before staring him dead in the face, “I’m still breathing.” Flipping him off, I step out of the elevator and head down the hallway, “Don’t call me, Asshole.”

If he’s going to kill me, I’m going to give him a damn good reason.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: This one was a little easier to write without a tiny human running around the house, I actually got it finished while she was in school. I have been so nervous since dropping that smutty fic yesterday, so here's a little angst and anger to make me feel better lmaooo

[yawneneteyam]

ALL THINGS CONNECTED | j. flatters chapter four — a minute sixteen

summary: growing up on the set of avatar: the way of water was a dream. your friends had become your family, all except for one. jamie was the one person you always found yourself drawn to, in ways more complex than the title of 'best friends' [3.1k].

pairing: fem!reader x jamie flatters

notes: based on jamie flatters documentary: all things connected. co-stars/friends to lovers. inspired by @cacapeepee. chapter contains swearing, mentions of next chapter being the kissing scene (I know, dont lose your head)

masterlist ⎸ chapter three | chapter five

2017.

"SO YOU'RE ENJOYING your time on set then?" you were sat on the floor in jamie's hotel room, legs crossed, hands in your lap. this was the longest interview that jamie had filmed so far. he saw his camera battery flashing red, but was adamant to keep hearing you speak. 

"loving it," you admitted, a small smile picked up by the camera. it beeped, signalling that it had a few more minutes of battery life left in it before it would shut down. "what was that?" you asked, a chuckle following in suit.

"the battery is gonna die," you noticed how jamie didn't switch it off, rather keeping you in frame.

“should i stop talking?” you asked.

“don’t," jamie looked upwards to you, through his eyelashes, "your voice is very soothing." you felt your chest tighten and your face heat up.

"your camera is gonna die, jamie" you whispered.

"oh well," he shrugged.

it was into the second month of free diving training for you all. kate was excelling, britain, who didn't know how to swim at the beginning of filming, was consistently getting over two-three minutes in each session. you and jamie struggled, everyone else seemed to keep improving, but you both found it harder than the others. 

"i don't get why we're shit though," he grumbled one night. the two of you had stayed back late on set, only a few members of crew pacing around, fixing things up for the next day of filming. you weren't technically supposed to be here still, but after getting caught up in hours of conversation together- you couldn't 

"speak for yourself, i got over a minute and a half the other day, mr sixty-two seconds" you crossed your arms, leaning back against the tanks. 

"put your money where your mouth is, miss" jamie cocked his eyebrows up, a smirk growing on his face. you scoffed, smiling at him, pausing for a second before looking around to see who was near you both. 

you knew that people were still on set, but no where near where the water tanks were. you took a deep breath, before looking over at jamie.

"ten bucks says i hold my breath for longer," 

"twenty says you don't" jamie countered. 

you paused for a moment.. "you're on." 

you both quietly took off your shoes and socks. jamie turned around as you pulled off your jumper, leaving you just in your shorts and tank top. he stripped his shirt off, his shorts the only thing he was left wearing. you both tried you best to quietly pull back the thick cover over the closest water tank. 

jamie did most of the heavy lifting, noticing you struggling to pull your side. you wondered what material they were made out of to be so heavy. the metal stairs that connected to the top platform were freezing against your bare feet, you tiptoed across to where the ladder was. 

"let me get the stopwatch on," he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "alright," he put it down, ready to help you lower yourself into the water.

you turned around and stood on the top of the ladder, getting ready to dip your feet in first. "you right?" he asked, holding your arms as you stood still. 

"yeah," you exhaled, "it's gonna be cold," you nodded.

"oh yeah," jamie chuckled, nodding in agreement. you took another deep breath before lowering yourself into the cool water. you felt the pins and needles take over your lower half as you climbed more down the ladder. jamie chuckled softly as you took deep breaths, adjusting to the harsh temperature. 

"okay," you whispered out nodding "i'm ready." 

jamie counted you down to start, you took in a long deep breath- trying to slow your heartbeat down. when he finished counting to three, you dunked your head under the water and held your breath.

it was freezing. usually the tanks were heated, depending on who you who filming your scenes with. filming in the water with sam? warm water. filming with sigourney? freezing, not far off from the temperature now.

the lights that usually illuminated the tank were off, you were left in complete darkness. you weren't sure how long you had been going for, but you knew you had a little while longer left in your lungs before they began to feel like bursting at the seams. 

jamie watched the time count upwards as you stayed under the water. he knew that if you broke your best, a minute and thirty-nine seconds, he would tap you and get you back above the surface. 

soon, you popped back up, panting from holding your breath for so long. "how long?" you gasped for air, holding onto the ladder. jamie leant forwards, holding his hands on top of yours, making sure you were okay. 

"a minute sixteen," he said.

"fuck," you put your head back, resting it against the water. "you want a turn?" you looked up at him. he watched as the dim lights that were still on in the tank room, illuminated your wet skin; glistening in the late hours of the day. 

"yeah," he nodded. you moved over, but kept hold of the ladder. jamie let out a breath as he quickly tried to lower himself into the cold water. "holy shit," he whispered.

"i know," you nodded quickly. 

"you didn’t tell me it would be so cold, i’m freezing." he looked at your accusingly, floating back from the ladder. jamie took a little bit, trying to adjust to the water and get his heart rate down. "okay, i'm ready" he nodded, closing his eyes.

you climbed up one step of the ladder, ready to press start on jamie's phone. you counted down from three slowly for him. jamie kept his eyes closed as he sunk underneath the surface once you reached three. 

the time went painfully slow. you couldn't help but feel nervous, as jamie approached a minute. he had struggled before trying to get past a minute, almost blacking out on more than one occasion. you knew that was the real reason he was determined to practice. he was dedicated, wanted to be the best that he could be on a project.

if he couldn't reach a minute almost two months into training, he felt like he was never going to improve. you shook your head, thinking about it- not realising the time clocking over sixty seconds. you watched him nervously from your spot in the water. 

had he been down there for too long? you couldn't really tell. as you scrambled back up the ladder to see how long he had been down there, jamie came back to the surface.

"oh!" he panted, "holy fuck," he moved and began to float on his back. 

"are you okay?" you got back down and swam over to him, neglecting to look at the time. "jamie?" 

"yeah," he exhaled, "how long was i down for?" 

shit. 

you closed your eyes, taking in his tired expression. "longer than me," you smiled, lying to him. 

"come here," he tried his best to use his head to call you over, "come lay with me, it feels unreal" 

"you might just be on the verge of unconsciousness," you chuckle, pushing back to float next to him. 

"yeah," he chuckled, "that's probably it." 

you both laid quietly in the water, letting it ebb and flow into your ears and out. sometimes you could hear and others the water took over your senses.. but you heard jamie when he spoke.

"can you believe we get paid to do this?" he said softly. he was now laying with his eyes open, stuck to the roof. there were squares of skylights here and there in the roofing, the moon and stars were shining down on him. "like y/n, this is our job."

"i know right," you smiled, your eyes still closed. you hadn't found a time in the last few months were you felt as content as you did now. here with jamie, you felt at peace in the water. "i'd do it for free.. fuck, i'd pay them."

"me too," jamie chuckled, "we're lucky."

"i'm feeling pretty lucky," you agreed. 

jamie turned his head as much as he could, taking in how you looked so carefree in the water. you looked beautiful. "i'm feeling pretty lucky too," he smiled.

"we should probably head back to the trailers soon," you sighed, "we might freeze to death in here," you laughed.

jamie let out an exhale of a laugh through his nose. "might freeze out there too," 

you suddenly opened your eyes, jamie watched as your face turned blank. "jamie," you said.

"yeah?"

"we don't have any towels," 

"... fuck" 

"yeah.. fuck" you sighed. 

"we'll have to make a run for it," he laughed.

"we don't have the buggies either," you shook your head, already imagining how horrid the trip back to the trailers would be. "it's gonna be a long run," you turned your head to look at him. you both just stared at each other for a moment, before both breaking out into soft laughter. 

eventually, you both found the courage to pull yourselves from the cold water and back up the ladder. "oh my god," you shivered, trying your best to wring out the water that had soaked your hair. "shit, shit, shit" jamie followed you as your tried your best to not fall down the metal stairs with your wet feet. 

jamie grabbed his shirt, and looked at it for a moment before deciding: fuck it, and putting it on even though he would soak it. you gathered your shoes and socks, grabbing your jumper last. 

"put it on," jamie said when he realised that you hadn't put it on.

"it'll get wet," you looked at him. jamie threw his shoes and socks back onto the ground before coming over to you and grabbing your jumper from your arms. 

"and you'll get sick if you don't put something on," jamie pulled the material until he had the arms of the jumper open for you to put on. he helped you pull it over your shivering frame. "you're freezing," he took notice of your teeth chattering.

"it's cold!" you defended yourself. he put his hands on your arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to warm you up. "aren't you cold?" you asked him, eyes wide.

"yeah, but you look like you're gonna get hyperthermia" he chuckled, "i feel colder just looking at you."

you laughed as another cold shiver ran down your spine, your hair dripping all around you. "let's go, we need to get changed" you nodded.

jamie gathered his belongings back up and you both ran bare foot back to the trailers. shouts of explicits filled the night air as you both were met with the cool winds of los angelas. jamie had longer legs than you, but slowed down so you could stay together. 

your feet were sore against the pavement, but when you saw your trailer in sight, you stopped caring. you slowed down as you approached the door, jamie behind you waiting to see you safely inside. 

you put your hands in your pockets to put out the key to your trailer. when it wasn’t there you felt the front and back pockets of your shorts. jamie noticed your change in demeanour, but when your eyes met his, he knew what was wrong. “oh, you didn’t” he softly gasped.

“i did!” you panicked, “i’m so stupid, i left my bag back at the tanks.”

jamie chuckled, “it’s fine. come back to mine for the night and we will get your keys in the morning.” 

“jamie-“

“y/n, you need to get changed or you will get sick,” he said, looking at you with a serious gaze in his eyes, “i don’t want to be held responsible for that really,” he shrugged with a smirk. you shoved him lightly, glaring at him. he pushed you away laughing. “come on, let’s go.”

there were four trailers in between yours and jamies: bailey, britain, filip and trinity. you knew they would all be asleep in their trailers, trinity probably back at her parent’s hotel. jamie unlocked the door to his trailer and let you inside first. 

it wasn’t messy. frankly, his trailer was a lot cleaner than yours, something that you admittedly wouldn’t expect from jamie. there were a few books scattered around the kitchenette, his camera was sat on the bench. 

“let me get you some clothes,” he headed towards the bed, pulling his suitcase out. 

“it’s okay, i’ll sleep in these” you said, not wanting to inconvenience him more than you felt you already had. 

“y/n..” he looked at your with an unimpressed look, “you’re sopping wet, take the clothes, yeah?” 

you sighed, “thanks.”

“you’re welcome,” he said, passing his black hoodie and some trackpants to you. jamie popped into the ensuite and turned the shower on, trying to get a nice temperature for you. “i’ll pick a film to watch while you shower, ‘kay?” you watched as he pulled an extra towel out for you and hung it over the glass. you nodded, trying to hide the smile playing on your lips. jamie dotes on his friends, that was something you came to notice. what you didn’t notice was how much more he dotes on you than anyone else.. but of course, everyone else could see it. 

“i’ll be quick so you can get in,” you told him, closing the door behind you. the shower was needed. you let the cold water wash out of your hair and allowed the hot water to soak in instead. you quickly washed your hair with the shampoo and conditioner that was sitting on the shower floor. not bothering to stay in for much longer, you pulled the towel over the glass and wrapped yourself in it. you dried off as best you could before opening the glass door and getting changed. 

it was abnormal, the way that jamie’s clothes engulfed you. the jumper was almost drowning you. he preferred baggier clothing on himself, meaning it was even more so on your frame. you chuckled, trying to dry your hair slightly before heading back out into the trailer. 

jamie was sat, towel around his shoulders, going through footage he had shot throughout the day. you came and sat next to him as you watched the viewfinder play the clip. it was of bailey, trinity behind the camera. 

“can i interview you?” her voice came through clearly.

“no,” bailey said quickly, hiding her face from the camera. 

“ouch,” jamie chuckled, shutting off the camera. “better?” he turned to you. 

“so much better,” you whispered, resting your head tiredly in your hands. 

“i’m gonna shower quickly and then we can put a film on,” he sniffed standing up.

you laid back on the couch, taking up the space he had left. “you didn’t pick one?” you smirked.

“shut up,” he shut the bathroom door behind him. you chuckled, letting your eyes close. you quickly lost track of how long jamie had been gone, but it hadn’t been long before you let sleep take you. by the time jamie had gotten out of the shower and changed, you were long gone on the couch. 

coming back into the room, jamie smiled with a soft chuckle. he grabbed the spare blanket from his bed and brought it over to you. he contemplated waking you up and getting you into the bed so you could sleep properly, but he knew you would refuse. so instead, he laid the blanket over you and tucked the sides in so you would be extra warm. pulling the second pillow from his bed, jamie brought it back over to your sleeping figure and tried his best to put it underneath your head. you mumbled in your sleep as jamie moved you but stayed asleep. 

“goodnight, y/n” he whispered. 

when you woke up, jamie was still asleep. with a deep breath, you rubbed your eyes and slowly sat up. you knew you would have to go back to set and get your keys and phone. you didn’t even know what time it was. but if you were supposed to be somewhere, someone would have come and found you both.

you left jamie in the trailer to sleep, and headed up towards set. on your walk, a buggy drove past you with sam in tow. “do any of the clothes you’re wearing belong to you?” he shouted with a smile.

“shut up!” you yelled back defensively, a smile close to breaking the surface. 

“wanna ride?” he asked, the cart slowing.

“yes please,” you groaned, walking faster to hop in the back with him. 

“you’re not needed till eleven, what’s up?” he asked.

“i left my stuff on set last night,” you closed your eyes, ready for sleep to takeover again. “what time is it?” sam chuckled as your face screwed up in annoyance. 

“it’s nine thirty, kid” he patted your knee, “time for you to go back to bed, by the looks of things.”

“i slept on jamie’s couch last night, i miss my bed” you admitted. sam’s eyes perked up at jamie’s name.

“so that’s who’s clothes you’re wearing, hey?” he smirked.

you opened your eyes to meet his gaze. “no, no, no” you said, “don’t even go there.” you shook your head at sam before speaking again, “my trailer keys are in my bag, i was with him and he said to sleep in his trailer instead of going back so late”

“of course he did,” he scoffed, a smile on his lips, “kid wants you”

you scoffed, “sam!”

“what?!” he exclaimed, “speaking my truth,” he defended himself. you rolled your eyes in response as you pulled up to the main area of set. you and sam headed inside to see some crew members fixing the covering of the tank you and jamie had been swimming in last night. trying to be inconspicuous you quickly grabbed your bag, ready to head back to the trailers and sleep for a little while longer. 

you pulled your phone from your bag and checked the notifications that you had missed; one in particular catching your eye.

[📱 bailey bass: ]  oh my gosh you have to check the schedule for next week

[ 📲 message sent: ] what why?

[📱 bailey bass: ]  because 

[📱 bailey bass: ]  you’re filming your kiss scene!!!!!!!!!!!!!

taglist: @littlexscarletxwitch, @thexplosivegirl, @lagoonabluebabe, @rexorangecouny, @ilovejakesullysdick @rhiannonhippiegirl @leelumenaura @playboykenz @couragemydearheart @whos6claire @m-1234 @coconut-dreamz @graysonshaven @stvpidscvpid @ok-boke @cvsmic-love @sully-stick-together @caniuseurname @fandom-geek17 @sully-stick-together @leaveitbythewave @mirandathebanana @aisselasstuff

[adverbally]

It’s Been Comin’ for Some Time

Written for the @steddie-spooktober day one prompt “rain” | wc: 1,699 | rated: T | cw: mild internalized homophobia | tags: caught in the rain, sharing clothes, hot cocoa, emotionally fraught confessions, first kiss, getting together | title from “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” by Creedence Clearwater Revival

———

“Come on in,” Steve practically shouts over his shoulder, fighting to be heard over the torrential rain bouncing off his umbrella. He fumbles to juggle his grocery bags while digging his keys out of his pocket, but he gets the door open and gestures for Eddie to follow him.

Eddie lingers in the doorway, just out of the storm but not fully inside Steve’s house. He’s soaking wet, having been stuck in the rain after his van broke down, and he’s terrified that the rainwater streaming off him will ruin the fancy doormat or the hardwood floor of the foyer. “Um,” he clears his throat as Steve sits down his bags and heads upstairs, “where should I–?”

“You’re fine right there. I’ll just grab you a towel and some dry clothes!” Steve calls, already at the top of the stairs.

Eddie throws up his arms and lets them clap against his sodden jeans when they fall. “Great,” he grumbles, “I’ll just stand here in my puddle and hope I don’t do any permanent damage, I guess.”

He shuts the door behind him and begins the disgusting process of stripping away his wet things– stepping out of his sneakers with a squelch, bunching up his socks inside them so they don’t get lost, shimmying out of the denim that clings to his legs, and peeling away the layers of his flannel and t-shirt. He tries not to dwell on the fact that he’s mostly naked in Steve Harrington’s entryway. Not even in a sexy way, just a drowned rat way.

Now that the shock of the rain has worn away and he’s lost any insulation his clothes might have provided, Eddie notices how cold he is. Autumn began with unseasonably warm temperatures, but the storm front that brought rain to the area also cooled things off. Wrapping his arms around himself does almost nothing for his body heat, but at least Eddie feels marginally less exposed now.

“Hey, catch!”

Eddie barely has time to look up at the second-floor balcony before a fluffy bath towel smacks him in the face. “Next time, just leave me to die on the side of the road,” he groans.

“You’re lucky that I decided to brave the elements for supplies,” Steve jokes as he tramps down the stairs. He’s got a faded hoodie and a pair of sweatpants in his arms, with a neatly folded pair of underwear sitting atop the pile. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have come to your rescue.”

“What was so urgent that you couldn’t wait for the storm to stop? Run out of hairspray?” Eddie asks. The towel sits over his head and shoulders like a cape, and he uses it to scrub vigorously at his arms before wringing water out of his hair.

Steve glares at him, unimpressed but unable to put his hands on his hips while he’s holding the stack of clothes he grabbed for Eddie. “Ha ha, very funny,” he deadpans. Then he explains, as if it’s obvious, “I needed milk. It’s cocoa weather.”

Eddie peeks at him from under the edge of the towel. Steve’s eyes are soft and serious as they linger on Eddie’s body, roaming over bare skin and dark hair and jagged scars. When his gaze meets Eddie’s, Steve quickly turns away, a flush creeping up his neck.

“Sorry, I–” Once his eyes catch on the side table beside them, he can’t put the clothes down on its shiny surface fast enough. “I’m just gonna leave these here for you and, um.” He awkwardly leans down to pick up the rain-streaked paper bag full of his groceries. “Put these away, I guess.”

Eddie barely has a chance to process Steve’s words before he’s disappearing around the corner. “Okay then,” he says to himself, alone in the echoing foyer. He quickly trades his dripping boxers for the dry ones at the top of the pile, then pulls on the outer layers.

Eddie ducks his nose into the collar of the hoodie and breathes in. It mostly smells like laundry detergent and cotton, but he thinks he can detect a hint of Steve’s cologne, spicy and earthy. The scent does more to warm him than the thickness of the fabric. Something about the idea of not just wearing Steve’s clothes but also having his scent seeping into Eddie’s skin, marking him in a more private way. Hopefully Steve will assume Eddie’s cheeks are red from the cold rather than lovesick thoughts.

When he feels a little more collected and less drunk on eau de Steve, Eddie wanders into the Harringtons’ kitchen. From the doorway, he can see that Steve is already heating milk on the stovetop, stirring mindlessly as he stares into the pot like he’s managed to hypnotize himself. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steve looking so vulnerable, not even shirtless and barefoot and bleeding in the Upside Down. What is it about Steve, in his own home, in his fuzzy socks and damp-hemmed jeans and a cozy burgundy sweater, that seems so small and unsure? It makes Eddie want to hug him and never let go.

��Hey.” Eddie tries to speak quietly so he doesn’t scare Steve, but he startles and drops the wooden spoon anyway. Something like guilt settles in Eddie’s chest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t hear you come in.” Steve fumbles for a canister of powdered cocoa mix, not measuring it as he dumps some into the mugs sitting on the counter. Not once does he even glance at Eddie. “Were the clothes okay?”

Eddie sighs and comes to lean against the countertop next to Steve. “The clothes are fine, but I… I don’t know, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You probably didn’t mean for me to strip right there in the foyer.”

His new angle gives him a great view of Steve blushing again. Now that Eddie is looking, he notices how pink his ears get.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve assures him, carefully pouring the warm milk over the cocoa mix, carefully not looking at Eddie even as his eyes dart across the cabinets and tile backsplash behind him.

Eddie snorts. “It kinda feels like I did.”

“You didn’t.” Steve punctuates his assertion by yanking open the silverware drawer with a clatter, grabbing a teaspoon and using it to stir their drinks. The clink of metal against porcelain is loud, even with the rain still pounding against the windows.

“Okay, if you’re trying to convince me that you’re not mad at me, you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Eddie drawls, fiddling with one of the drawstrings dangling from the neck of his borrowed hoodie, “because that’s the most aggressive cocoa-making technique I’ve ever seen.”

With a huff, Steve steps away from the counter and whirls to face Eddie. “You’re the one who should be uncomfortable and mad at me!”

“You’re right, how dare you not leave me to get washed away on the side of the road!” He gasps dramatically. “And then you had the nerve to give me dry clothes and make me cocoa!”

It catches him totally off guard when Steve shouts, “I was looking at you!”

They both freeze. The storm outside rages on, but the Harringtons’ kitchen is still and quiet, save for Steve’s shaky breathing. His eyes are wide and wet and pleading, like he’s desperate for Eddie to understand. Eddie definitely does not understand.

“What’s so bad about that?” he asks gently. “I look at you all the time.”

Steve’s face screws up and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Eddie takes a cautious step forward, then another when Steve doesn’t pull away. “I promise I’m being serious right now. I really, truly, honestly don’t know what the problem is.”

“I like you,” Steve confesses, voice breaking as he swipes at the tears in his eyes. “A lot.”

“I like you, too.” Eddie’s confusion almost certainly shows on his face. He hasn’t even been particularly subtle about his crush on Steve – always trying to sit next to him and make him laugh, soaking up the affection that Steve shares so easily, spending more time with him one-on-one so he can selfishly keep Steve to himself.

Steve shakes his head. “I like you,” he tries again. It’s almost a whisper, strained and emphatic but too hard to say out loud.

Eddie could laugh out loud if he wasn’t afraid of hurting Steve’s feelings. He just smiles instead, feeling a little manic as he connects the dots. “I just spent probably two solid minutes sniffing this hoodie. And then I stood in the doorway and watched you making cocoa like a creep, and I thought about how much I wanted to hug you. Because I thought I made things awkward or I insulted you or something.”

“You…” Steve’s brow furrows as he tries to process Eddie’s words.

Eddie reaches out and grabs Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I like you, Steve,” he says as deliberately as he can. He looks into Steve’s eyes, sees the realization dawning there between each blink, and takes another step closer so they’re toe-to-toe. “Like-like, even. Might even be beyond a crush at this point.”

“Yeah?”

Steve looks so hopeful, so afraid to hope, that Eddie decides to put him out of his misery. Slowly, he leans in, head tilted and gaze locked on Steve’s lips so his intent is clear. He watches Steve’s tongue dart out to wet his lips, then Eddie closes his eyes and feels Steve move to meet him in the middle.

It’s a chaste kiss, off-center and chapped, and their noses bump a little before they adjust their angle, and they have to break apart when neither of them can suppress their smile any longer. It’s the best kiss Eddie’s ever had.

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie asks. He loops an arm around Steve’s waist just because he can, just so he can hear Steve’s giddy laugh.

“I dunno,” Steve waffles, fighting to keep his voice serious, “you might need to do it again. Just to be sure.”

God, he loves the rain.

[the--blackdahlia]

Taking Care of Him (Keaton Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Title: Taking Care of Him

Summary: Sometimes Bruce needs taken care of (not smut)

Warning: Mentions of nudity? I guess?

For @blackberries45

Bruce sat on the closed toilet lid, looking worse for wear after a long night of patrolling. He had some bruises and scrapes on him, but the biggest thing was he just looked so tired. There was no way you were letting him in bed smelling like a Gotham alley, and he was dead on his feet. Being the caring, thoughtful person you were, you started running the water in the large tub in the master bathroom. The water began to fill the black tub, and once it had reached a certain height, you added some moisturizing bubble bath and Epsom salts. Bruce might have been a tough guy in public, but you knew he loved to have a spa-like pampering every so often.

“Bruce,” You whispered softly, getting his blue eyes locking on yours. “I’m gonna help you undress, okay?”

“You just like seeing me naked,” He chuckled a little. You helped him pull off the black tank top he had been wearing, as well as the shorts. You hated to hear him groan as sore muscles protested.

“Ok, let’s get you up and into the tub. The water should be nice and warm, and the salts should have dissolved enough,” You helped him stand and walked him toward the tub.

“Are you gonna join me?” He asked as he climbed into the tub and settled into the water, moaning softly at the feeling of the water.

“I can if you want me to.”

“I always want you,” He gave you that charming smile, the same one that he had used the first time he had talked to you at that gala. You quickly stripped out of your clothes and climbed into the tub with him. You felt him wrap an arm around you and pull you flat against his chest.

“Bruce, I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“You are,” He buried his face in your hair. “You’re my emotional support bath drawer.”

“What a sweet talker you are,” You laughed and reached to turn the water off. Once that was done, you were pulled back into the waiting arms of one Mr. Wayne. “How do you feel?”

“Much better,” He sighed, relaxing. “You know how to take care of me.”

“Well, one of us has to. Or you’d walk around smelling like a sewer,” You were joking, but he placed a kiss against your bare shoulder.

“Thank you. For everything. I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have you,” He pulled you tighter to him. Any tighter, and you two would become one.

“Let’s get that hair washed. I think you’re starting to get sleepy,” You grabbed his shampoo and started to lather his wet hair before rinsing. Then you helped him wash himself off. “Ok, I’m going to give you a towel. You start drying off while I go grab you some clean clothes.”

“Yes ma’am,” He smiled, but you could tell he was exhausted. You climbed out of the tub and dried off before getting him a towel and making sure he didn’t fall on his face as he climbed out. When he was in the suit, he was as graceful as could be. But when he was Bruce, he could trip walking in a straight line on a flat surface. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to fall, you went to the bedroom to get him a pair of sweatpants and a Gotham PD shirt. You brought it back to him, smiling as you watched him dry his curls. They would be a mess in the morning, or afternoon. Whenever he decided to wake up. But you didn’t want to make him stay awake any longer than needed.

“Here we go,” You handed him the clothes, watching from a distance as he dressed himself. Once you were both dressed, you took his hand and led him to the bed.

“I’m so glad I have you,” He pulled you to him for a kiss. “Don’t ever forget how much I love you. Even when I’m being an asshole.”

“I love you too Brucie,” You pulled back the covers, allowing him to crawl into bed. He was out like a light, but still managed to reach out for you and pull you to him, allowing you to go to sleep, safe in his arms for another night.

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Kinktober 2024

Day 9: Pet Play

Kim Seungmin x Reader

Word Count: 1,000

THIS FIC IS NSFW, MINORS DNI!!!

Warnings: Pet play, use of title "master" and pet names "pup" and "puppy," rough sex (there is aftercare I promise!), dom!Seungmin, unprotected sex, use of toys (butt plug), use of collars, a little bit of dry humping. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

A/N: If you would like to be added to my Kinktober taglist, you can send an ask, send a dm, or comment on any of my Kinktober-related posts with the username that you'd like tagged. Happy reading!

Taglist: @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Fic is under the cut.

You knew that Seungmin had an interest in pet play, but not because he told you. He was supposed to be leaving to go on tour, and the two of you were doing what you always did the night before he left. While he was mid-thrust, you heard him moan and say, “Such a good puppy.” Afterward, you asked him about it, and he denied it even happened. You knew what you heard though, so you decided to take advantage of the new information to prepare a surprise to celebrate the end of another tour.

A few days before Seungmin was supposed to come home, you were looking at a sex toy site that your friend told you about. Most of the toys available didn’t interest you, but there were a few things that jumped out. Those things were ears, a collar, and a butt plug that had a tail on the end. You ordered them immediately, and they arrived the day that Seungmin was supposed to come home. After you had everything out of the box, you ran to your bedroom and got ready.

When Seungmin walked through the door of your apartment after the tour, he was expecting to find you in the living room waiting for him. Instead, however, he found you in your bedroom. You were still waiting for him, but it wasn’t the romantic greeting he was expecting. Instead, you were mostly naked on your bed. The only clothes (or, accessories, rather) that he could see were a pair of dog ears and a collar. You also had the tail plug in your ass, but he couldn’t see it from where he was standing.

“What’s all this, baby?” he asked, hoping that his voice didn’t give away how excited he was.

“I just wanted to surprise you,” you replied, using the sweetest voice you could muster. “Is that ok, master?”

When Seungmin heard you use the title, he snapped. He was on top of you in an instant, kissing you and rubbing his clothed erection against your bare pussy. You whimpered at the sudden friction, more turned on than you wanted to admit by the change in his behavior. Neither of you were sure how long you stayed like that, but when Seungmin couldn’t take it anymore, he said, “When I get up, I want you to bend over. Got it?”

“Yes, master.”

He got up and stripped, watching as you rearranged yourself to follow his instructions. Once you were bent over your bed, Seungmin took a moment to enjoy the view of your soaked entrance. He was caught off guard when he noticed the tail, but he had to admit that it turned him on even more. It was then that he had the realization that you had remembered the words that unintentionally slipped out of his mouth when the two of you were having sex right before he left. The realization left him embarrassed, but he was still turned on beyond belief.

Seungmin was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard you whine and say, “Master, please fuck me.”

“Aww, is someone getting desperate?” When you let out another whine, he laughed and said, “Well I guess I should do something about that. Are you gonna be good while I fuck you, puppy?”

“I’ll be good, I promise. Please just fuck me.”

Seungmin didn’t need to be asked again. He was gentle when he first slid into you, but once you adjusted he wasn’t as gentle as he could have been. You weren’t complaining, of course. You loved it when he was rough with you. As he slammed into you, he said things like “Doing so good for me, pup” and “I missed this so much while I was gone.”

Your moans came out more like sobs as Seungmin fucked you. The combination of his cock inside of you, the way he spoke to you, and the plug in your ass were almost too much for you. Sex with Seungmin was always intense for you, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it that way.

You didn’t know how long Seungmin had been pounding into you, but you did know that you were close to the orgasm you had been desperate for since he walked through the door. Hoping that Seungmin would go easy on you, you cried out and said, “Master, I’m close. Can I please please please cum?”

“Wait just a little longer, pup. I wanna cum with you.”

“Please,” you sobbed.

After a few more thrusts, you heard him say, “Fuck, I’m close. Cum with me, puppy.”

That was all you needed to hear for your orgasm to wash over you. You came with a scream as Seungmin pulled out, cum hitting your back and ass as his own high hit him. As you caught your breath, you felt your brain get fuzzy and your legs start to give out. Seungmin quickly caught you, helping you to stand so he could walk you to the bathroom.

Once you were in the bathroom, he wiped the cum off of your back and helped you into the shower. You leaned on him while you got your strength back, and he held you like you would disappear any second. Then, you each helped the other wash up. After you were sufficiently clean and dried off, you both got dressed. After Seungmin made sure you were sufficiently comfortable, he ran to your kitchen to get each of you a glass of water. When he came back, he drank his and made you drink yours. When he was satisfied with the amount of water you drank, he got into bed with you. Once he found a comfortable position, he held you while the two of you talked about your days and how much you missed each other while he was away. The conversation didn’t last long, though. You both fell asleep immediately, content to be back in each other’s arms.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see what else I've written so far and the rest of what's planned, you can find my Kinktober masterlist here. If you'd like to read one of my non-Kinktober works, you can find my general masterlist here. If you'd like to see what I'm going to be working on once Kinktober is over, you can find my upcoming works here. If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you'd like to see, send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, happy spooky season!

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 17

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 17: I'll Be Your Mirror

Chapter Summary: Fin.

Word Count: 6.0k+

Content / Warnings: listen if you made it this far you know what it is

Notes: Chapter title from “I'll Be Your Mirror" by Nico and The Velvet Underground. Ok I know I said there would be an Epilogue, but I decided... I really love it as is. This story is my baby and the feeling of finishing it is so bittersweet. Thank you to everyone who has ever given me the encouragement to feel this story is special. There are so many of you, I don't even know where to start. You know who you are.

[ Previous Chapter ] [ Series Masterlist ]

“Dee?”

He looks up from the notebook in his hand and goes still. 

To say that your heart skips a beat when he meets your gaze is an understatement. 

It freezes, along with everything else in the universe. You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You’re almost certain the Earth stops turning. 

Is he angry? Relieved? Shocked? 

You can’t tell. 

But then his tensed muscles go slack. His hunched shoulders drop from his ears. Glossy, pained eyes melting wide into wonderment. 

“Lua?” 

Hearing your name on his lips makes your stomach flip into free fall. Your pulse jumps. A sound escapes your chest that’s halfway between a sob and a laugh.

He drops the notebook and strides towards you.

You can only take one step forward before he’s pushing your back to the door, lips pressed against yours. His hands slip around your waist and pull your body flush to his while you comb your fingers through his hair. He groans into your mouth, tongue rolling soft on yours as you whine at how fucking perfect it feels. 

Unzipping your jacket, Dieter pulls back and rasps hot against your cheek, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I thought I fucking lost you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pressing your foreheads together as he strips off your jacket, “It was stupid, I shouldn’t have left like that—”

“Later,” he murmurs, shrugging off his fuzzy coat, then brings his mouth to your pulse and sucks the thin skin so hard you gasp, gripping his broad shoulders to bring him closer. 

His hands slip under your shirt—his shirt, actually, you stole it from a laundry basket before leaving his house—and he slides his heated palms against your bare skin. With a chuckle, he looks down at the garment and says, “You little thief.” 

You bite your lip and shrug, flicking your eyes around his face. 

“God, I missed you,” he grins, dimples and all.

“I missed you, too.”

Both your faces fade from amusement to something heavier as you study each other. Heat flickers at the middle of you when he brushes the back of his hand against your cheek. Your gaze dips to his mouth when he murmurs, “Don’t you dare leave me again.”

“I won’t—”

“Please.”

“I promise I won’t.” 

You meet his eyes so he can see how much you mean it, stroking the soft whiskers on his jawline with your thumb, “I love you, Dieter. I love you so fucking much.” 

His warm gaze flicks all over your face, “I love you, too.” 

Your throat thickens. You try to swallow down the discomfort before asking, “Are you mad?” 

“Mad?” 

You nod.

“No,” he scoffs, gently taking your hand to kiss each of your fingertips. 

It’s reverent, the way he does this. Worshipful. Like he’s thanking every piece of you for existing. 

He clears his throat. Pain creases his forehead, making his dark eyes go all gooey soft when he whispers, “I was so scared. I didn’t know if I’d find you dead or alive.”

It hits you hard. Right in the heart. 

You let out a guilty squeak. Your face crumbles. Tears cloud your vision, distorting him. You draw a shattered breath before responding. 

“I was going to do it. I was going to, umm,” you avert your eyes and shake your head, “I was gonna drown myself, Dee. I had everything ready, but… I couldn’t.”

A sob bursts from your belly. 

His body tenses and he pulls back ever so slightly, as if he were seconds away from calling off the conversation. But you stay firmly planted. You link your hands behind his neck and meet his tear-brimmed eyes with your own. When you speak, your voice trembles with honesty. 

“I thought that I was supposed to die. That my being here was a mistake, or like I was cursed or something. Destined to destroy your life if I stayed in it. I didn’t want to do that to you. But also,” you swallow hard and search his face, “I didn’t know if I could trust you not to break me like he did. I didn’t know if I could trust myself not to break you, either. I was so afraid… of everything. Of all the possibilities. Of not knowing what would happen.” 

The way he looks at you—shoulders slumped, jaw set, eyes all dewy with sorrow—it’s fucking torture. But you continue. 

“I was so afraid of everything… except dying. Dying felt like the best option.” 

Dieter sobs. It crushes your ribcage to dust. You have to keep going, though. You need him to understand that you mean this. 

“But I realized—just now, before you got here, like,” you laugh with bemusement and shake your head, “Immediately before you got here, your timing is truly blowing my fucking mind right now—”

He chuckles and wipes at his damp face. You smile, tilting your head at him. 

“I realized that… I was being a fucking coward. You’re not Ethan and I’m not Anika, and you and I… we’re something different. Dee, our love feels big the way the universe feels big. It’s never-ending and always growing and it is fucking forever. To turn my back on something like that would be… well, it would be fucking blasphemy.”

He smiles back at you, grip digging into your waist to bring you closer. 

You cup his cheeks and tell him, “There will be good days and bad, but I know that I will never regret choosing to stay.”

He stares at you with so much love and awe your chest aches. You can’t stop yourself from beaming at him. 

“No matter what the future has in store for us, I know that it will be worth spending every second I can with you in this beautiful, painful, amazing life.” 

His smile widens and he shakes his head, choking out, “Fuck, how do I follow that up?” 

You laugh, this soggy, wet laugh and bury your face in his shirt, then mumble against his chest, “You don’t have to, love, I just needed to tell you.” 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you. 

“For what?”

“For staying. For sharing with me, trusting in me—trusting in us. Without you… I don’t know. Everything is fucking stupid and meaningless. You make me a better me. And I need you. So. Thank you.” 

Your heart swells. 

“You make me a better me, too.” 

He pulls back to look at you, the warmth of his gaze sticking all over your face. Heat glints behind his eyes when they drop to your mouth. 

Something profound throbs between you. Newborn with shaky legs, taking its first breath. Intentional, fearless certainty. 

You kiss him, hard and purposeful, and he responds with fervor, the tips of his fingers digging into the tender skin of your waist. His tongue slides soft and wet and hot against yours, a slick writhing that hypnotizes you. Between the gentle crush of lips and nips from teeth and quiet whimpers that echo back and forth, you get lost in him. 

Time and space slip away and this kiss becomes the only thing you long to feel.

Dieter pushes your back flush to the cool door, warm hands exploring the tender skin beneath your shirt. His shirt. His skin. 

His his his—

He cups your breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The tedious touch sends a rush of need through your body. Whining into his mouth, you slide your nails down the expanse of his back, beckoning him closer, wordlessly begging for more. 

Of course, he gives it to you. 

Of course he pinches your nipples so hard you gasp, then tugs even harder. 

Of course he activates something primal deep within your brain, making you hiss, “Fuck yes.” 

“Does that feel good, baby? Hmm?”

“Yes—”

“Good,” he husks.

One hand unclamps. It slips under the waistband of your pants and slides down between your thighs, down to the hot, slick middle of you, where it rubs all those attention-starved nerves and makes them fucking purr. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Mmmm, how about that?” 

“So fucking good, Dee,” you moan, nodding your head in vehement approval as you arch your hips towards him, “Oh my god, yes.” 

Pulsing heat creeps up your spine, making your mouth go slack and lids drift closed. 

“Look at me.” 

Your eyes snap open to meet his. He searches your face with intensity, watching you twist up with pleasure, and drops his gaze to your lips when your panting becomes tainted with whimpers. 

“You’re so fucking hot I can’t stand it,” he mutters, shaking his head, “God, I wanna fuck you.” 

“Oh my god, please—”

“You want me to fuck you?” He releases his tight grip on your tit to stroke your cheek, his low voice almost a growl, “Hmm? Want me to fill your tight pussy?” 

“Yes—”

“Yeah?”

“Yes yes yes please, I wanna feel your cock inside me, Dieter I fucking need it please—”

“I want you to come for me first,” he works you faster, pressing his forehead against yours as he coos, “Can you do that for me, baby? Come all over my fucking hand?”

His request gushes hot down your spine. You gasp and nod frantically, then choke out a throaty moan as heat starts to branch out inside you. Your heart pounds hard and fast in your chest, white-hot need overflowing your veins and pooling thick between your legs, pulsing and growing, stronger, wider, pushing you up up up up—

It overtakes you. Rips you into a million pieces and puts you back together again. 

Your legs clamp shut. You twitch and whimper and gasp as his touch softens and slows. 

It doesn’t stop entirely, though. 

Just a gentle, languid back and forth that persists through ebbing aftershocks, assuring you he’s not done with you yet. 

Dieter rests his forehead against yours, breath warm on your parted lips when he says, “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

You let out a dreamy chuckle, hooking your hands behind his neck.

And, fuck, his fingers feel so good. Sliding up and down, spreading your slick in a gentle manner, teasing but patient. So fucking patient. 

“I mean it. You are… amazing. I love every single thing about you.” 

He dips a thick fingertip in your entrance, sending a heady rush of need through your body, then drags it out to draw slow circles around your clit. His touch prods the glowing embers in your belly. They smolder beneath your skin and make your heart race. 

“Oh my god, Dee—”

“Even the parts you don’t think I want. I want it all, Lua. Forever. I never want to wake up without you by my side again.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe, “Forever and ever until I’m nothing, Dee, I’m fucking yours—”

His lips crush into yours. You moan into his mouth, accepting the warm caress of his tongue, urgent against yours. Between your thighs, he rocks his hand against you hard, then slips a digit inside you. 

Head rolling back onto your shoulders, you gasp, “Jesus fuck.”

“So fucking ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he laughs, delirious and breathy, then takes a step back, removing himself from your body completely. 

The loss sends you reeling. Like a puppy, you glob onto him, not wanting to part from him for a second. 

Regarding your desperation with a smirk, he takes your hand, “Come on.” 

You follow along behind him, grinning at the way he carries himself with authority, striding through the cabin like this has been his residence for the past few days, not yours. 

When you cross the threshold into a bedroom, he turns to ask, “This one ok?”

Nodding, you push him back towards the bed and tug at his clothes, a silent plea he quickly grants. You mirror his actions, stripping down to nothing as he sits down on the edge of the bed and stares up at you, all fuck-me-eyes and parted lips. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” you coo, slotting yourself between his knees, combing your nails through his hair, “Looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes. I love it.” 

His eyelids flutter and his cock twitches. A little bead of pre-cum sprouts up at the tip. 

You lick your lips and smirk, wrapping your hand around his girth, gasping when you smear the swollen droplet with the pad of your thumb. 

Dieter groans, grabbing your waist. He twitches again. 

You pull back his foreskin, forming an ‘o’ with your mouth when more of the viscous liquid slips against your thumb. 

You think about how it might taste, salty and hot on your tongue. You think about his hard, smooth length stretching out your lips, soaking wet with drool as he fucks your face. 

“If you keep looking at it like that I’m gonna blow my fucking load,” he mutters, burying his face between your breasts. 

When you respond by churning your grip, a moan vibrates against your sternum. As if he can’t help himself, Dieter slides his hands up your body and grabs your tits. 

He takes one in his mouth, then the other, sucking and licking and biting your swollen nipples while you work him, slow and meticulous. His muffled whines stoke your desire, flames hot and tingling up your spine. 

Looking up at you with big doe eyes, he flattens his tongue against your nipple, then moves his head from side-to-side. 

“That feels fucking amazing, Dee, oh my god,” you pant, drawing your brows together as you nod in approval at the heated sensation that clings to your bones. 

Arousal urges you to pump him faster, and when you do, he husks, “Fuck, Lua—”

“Hmm?”

“Please.”

The tips of his fingers dig into your waist and he scoots further back onto the bed, ushering you onto his lap, “Wanna feel that sweet pussy wrapped around me, please, baby, please.”

Your knees settle on either side of his hips and you fold forward, smoothing your hands up his broad chest, to his neck, then you cup his cheeks. He searches your face, wild-eyed and desperate. 

“I love seeing you like this,” you purr, brushing your thumb against his bottom lip, “So fucking needy.”

He groans and his hips jerk, the tip of him nudging up against your entrance. You tease him with it, letting him feel how hot and wet you are without allowing access. 

“Do you want my pussy, baby? Or do you need it?”

“I need it,” he rasps, the tendons in his neck going taut he grips your hips with bruising strength, “I’ll fucking die if I don’t feel it, I swear to god, please—”

You lower yourself down slowly, whimpering at the exquisite stretch that reverberates through you. 

His back arches off the mattress and he groans, “Fffffuck yes. Holy fucking shit, Lua—”

“So fucking good, oh my god,” you croak, rolling your hips.  

You take him slow at first, savoring the way he fills you so perfectly, how he rubs along every tingling nerve inside you. Beneath you, Dieter pants and writhes, devout hands roaming your humid skin, worshiping you.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I love you,” he pants, thrusting up into you so hard and deep you moan. He lets out a gasping chuckle, then drives his hips up again, and again, and again.

You nod in approval. Thick static bubbles at your center. You press your forehead against his, pushing back against his thrusts as they establish a steady rhythm. 

“Wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Wanna spend—fuck,” you whimper, nodding again, “Wanna the rest of my life with you.” 

“Wanna marry you, make you my wife—”

Still nodding, you choke out, “Yes, oh my fucking god yes—”

“Would you like that? Hmm? Get you a pretty dress and a ring? Show the whole world that I’m yours and you’re mine?”

“I want it, Dee, I do. I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—“

He captures your lips and pounds into you, hard and fast, exchanging moans with you like vows, vibrating on your tongue as the tingling heat in your belly stretches wider, climbing up your body, swelling and swelling, pulling your muscles tight, until you find yourself suspended in a moment you both never want to end and don’t think you can stand any longer. 

Then, it bursts. 

You sob when the wave of pleasure washes over and under you, making this sick wet sucking noise as your whole body convulses around him. 

Dieter whines against your mouth, fucking up into your fluttering cunt with crazed, frantic thrusts. He goes rigid and silent for a second, then releases a guttural noise from his chest. 

When his breath returns to him and his muscles start to slacken, you meet his eyes with a grin that spreads to his lips. 

You kiss him, slow and deep, then go limp on his chest, “I love you.” 

“I love you.”

The two of you stay here for a while, content and rubber-limbed. His fingertips trace the scar tissue on your shoulder and arm while sand gathers heavy on your eyelids. 

“I haven’t been able to sleep,” you mumble into the damp crook of his neck, “Not sober, at least. Now you’re here and we have so much to talk about.” You yawn, “And I’m so tired.”  

He kisses the crown of your head, then gently persuades you to roll off him onto the mattress. Like a sleepy child, helplessly lethargic and too engrossed in comfort to do it yourself, you let him pull the bedspread out from beneath you and tuck you between the sheets. 

The warmth of his skin presses up against yours as he drapes an arm over your belly and tugs you close. When he speaks, his breath is warm on your cheek, voice low and quiet. 

“Get some rest, love. We can talk more tomorrow.” 

His offer is tempting, but one question nags at the back of your brain and gives you a small burst of energy. 

You roll onto towards him, blinking your weighted eyes open to meet his, all gooey and soft as they search your face. 

“Did you mean it?” 

A mischievous smirk plays on his lips, “What, that I wanna marry you?” 

You nod. 

“Yeah,” he grins and grabs your hand to kiss your palm, then holds it to his cheek, “What about you? Did you mean it? Do you wanna marry me?”

For some reason, your cheeks get hot and you laugh. The noise is water-logged, struggling against the tears that burn up your throat and blur your vision.

“Yeah, I really fucking do.” 

These aren’t the kinds of tears you’re used to crying. They’re celebratory. Joyous. You find yourself unable to stop smiling through them. 

“This is crazy,” you tell him, shaking your head, “I love you so much it’s fucking crazy.” 

“I love you,” he smiles and brings your hand to his chest, pressing your palm against the thump-thump of life and light and love, “Do you feel that?”

“Your heart?”

He nods, “That’s yours. ‘Til my last breath, then after. It’s yours.” 

—

Dieter listens to the peaceful dozing huffs that blow hot across his chest, cherishing each and every one. 

He savors the heat of your body on his, the blood pumping through your veins, and the flutter of REM behind your closed eyelids. Proof that you are here, alive and safe in his arms. An answer to his desperate prayers. 

Something like relief but bigger engulfs him. 

Warmth tingles through his limbs and tears sting behind his eyes. His throat gets all thick with emotion as he pulls your pliant body closer, pressing a kiss against your forehead. 

Careful not to be too loud, he whispers, “Thank you.” 

He’s not sure who he’s thanking. You or fate or whatever omnipresent puppeteer pulls the strings behind the scenes. He just knows he means it with his whole heart. 

Dieter lays here for some time, live-wired with optimism, thinking up a million ways to convey the intensity of his gratitude. His mind wanders into tomorrow and buzzes with anticipation. He gets to tell you about his impromptu trip to New York, and that your charges are dropped. 

Goosebumps prick his skin as a realization dawns on him. 

You don’t even know. 

When deciding to stay, you factored in the consequences of these charges. Your devotion to him was not because of this resolution, but in spite of it. 

You had every single reason to doubt this would work. Probable prison time. Shrapnel from the fame machine. Ongoing recovery. The ugly demise of his marriage. The tragic end to yours.

Fuck, it’s a shit show. 

And yet, here you are. 

He gazes down at you, far away in dreamland, cheek pressed against the rise and fall of his chest. All angel-faced, but with a little drool at the corner of your mouth. Fucking beautiful. 

On one hand, he could stay here watching you sleep like a fucking stalker for hours. On the other, his stomach growls for attention. 

When he contemplates whether or not to untangle himself from you and tend to this need, you let out a little grumble, then start wiggling around, rolling away from him. He misses the heat of your body as soon as it’s gone, but lets you go anyway. 

He carefully gets out of bed and wanders through the dark cabin into the kitchen. 

The cupboards are essentially barren, which is both disappointing and unsurprising, but he finds some bread and drops a couple slices into the toaster. While guzzling down a tall glass of iron-flavored water, he notices piles of towels and blankets stacked on the kitchen counter. This piques his curiosity. 

To put it lightly, you are an incredibly neat and tidy person. Normally you wouldn’t allow this kind of disorder in your living space, however temporary. He should know. Last week you pulled the clothes out of his dresser and gave him a tutorial on how to fold “the right way” before organizing the acrylic paints in his studio by hue. 

Your need for order only increases when you’re distressed, which you definitely were, so… what the fuck is up with this? 

When he rounds the countertop peninsula to investigate, something catches his eye. Big slabs of wood propped up next to a door in the hallway. The door sits ajar, the crack emitting a warm golden glow.��

His footsteps creak across the wooden floor as he approaches it. Somehow he knows what he’ll find when he opens the door, and releases an amused chuckle when his suspicions are confirmed. 

Dark fabric draping the walls. A dimmed-down lantern propped up behind a makeshift seat. The seat, a makeshift nest of pillows and blankets, faces a mirror. 

You built a psychomanteum. 

Something tugs at his memory, causing him to turn on his heel and walk towards the couch. He picks up the notebook he discarded when you walked through the door and revealed yourself. 

He studies the page in abstract, catching little glimpses here and there. Words like unrecognizable and hopeless and monster. Fragments like swerving around traffic, and crying, begging.

Some sentences stand out so much, he can’t help but snag on them. 

It was over, I couldn’t do it anymore.

He called me a bitch. A rat.

It didn’t seem real.

He said we had to do this together.

Far away, the toaster pops. He’s not even hungry anymore. In fact, quite the opposite. He feels fucking sick. 

A smattering of circles distort in the paper, black ink bleeding out from your script as if diffused by tiny droplets of moisture. Probably tears. 

Grotesque curiosity churns beneath his skin. 

He swallows around his thick throat and looks up at the closet. The psychomanteum. 

The first time he tried to read the passage, before he knew you were ok, he was in such a state of panic that he didn’t fully understand what it was. But he understands now. He sees the pieces and how they fit together. 

His stomach twists when he recognizes the pattern laid out before him. His ribcage shrinks two sizes, pushing his pulse to his ears. He runs a hand through his hair and wrings his tight neck as he realizes with horror that he has been a similar kind of monster. 

He knows he had a problem. And it wasn’t as much the drugs or infidelity as it was the emptiness. An infection that set in early and rotted out a cavity in his chest. In his heart. 

He knows it made him change in unspeakable ways, altering the very nature of his character. It made him angry and reckless and fucking ravenous. Starving for anything that would fill him up, however fleeting. 

He was a fucking beast. 

He also knows you love him. Flaws and all, you love him. You had the grace to forgive every unforgivable mistake he made. 

Could Dieter do the same? 

He tosses the notebook down on the coffee table and walks to the closet, opening the door. As he steps inside, he takes the lantern from behind the seat and turns to face him in the mirror. 

He studies the face, recognizing the distinct nose and dark eyes. Mop of messy brown curls atop his head. He looks tired, but hopeful. 

Staring at his reflection, Dieter tells himself, “I forgive you.” 

—

The first thing you notice when you rouse from sleep is the warmth that surrounds you. 

You feel Dieter’s chest flush to your back, arms wrapped around your middle, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your combined body heat under the covers makes your skin stick together. The steady rhythm of his breathing moves in time with yours. 

Before you even open your eyes, you smile. 

Your fingertips twitch against his arm and you try to wiggle even closer, intertwining your legs with his. 

Behind you, Dieter stirs a little, then mumbles into your neck, “G’morning, doll.” 

“Good morning, love.” 

He takes a deep breath in, squeezing you tight, and exhales a groan, “You smell so fucking good what the fuck.”

“I haven’t bathed in days,” you giggle, reaching back to run your fingers through his hair, “I’m stinky.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“You’re bullshit.” 

He laughs this big, boisterous laugh as he rolls onto his back, separating from you save for the arm pinned under your side. 

You miss his heat immediately and turn over to face him, scooting close enough to feel it. His gaze holds pure adoration. Your fingertips meet his and play this sort of dance before he laces your hands together. 

He asks, “Wanna take a bath then go get some grub?” 

—

Dieter lathers up a washcloth, watching the muscles shift beneath your skin as you rinse the remaining conditioner from your hair with a shower head attachment.

When you turn it off, you glance over your shoulder at him and announce, “I’m probably going to prison.” 

He sits up and presses the steaming washcloth to your back, working suds up the curve of your spine. 

“You’re not going to prison.” 

You relax into his touch and snort, “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“I took care of it.”

“Wha—wait,” you sit up, then turn around to face him, water sloshing around with you. You furrow your brow and stare at him, “What does that mean?”

“It means the DA dropped the charges against you.” 

Your eyes narrow as you search his face, “Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m dead serious.” 

“How?” 

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth as he averts his gaze, shrugging, “Let’s just say that, for plausible deniability reasons, it’s best you don’t know anything else.” 

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not!” he laughs, tugging at your waist. You jokingly wrinkle your nose at his affection, but let him pull you into his lap. 

“C’man, sweetheart. Look at me.” He waits until your eyes meet his, then tells you, “I swear to god I’m not fucking with you. You’re clear. A free woman.” 

Your shoulders fall away from your ears. You clamp down on your huge smile, then it breaks free, “Really?”

The way you light up at this news… It is breathtaking. Jesus fucking Christ. Worth every second of misery. 

“Really,” he smiles, cupping your cheek. 

You try to blink away tears with a relieved burst of laughter. You stare at him, glossy eyes all ripe with admiration as they flick around his face, “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he murmurs, holding your gaze, “I’d do anything for you, Louella. You know that?”

Your smile gets bigger somehow. You nod, “I do.”

His stomach flips when he imagines you saying those words in front of that ordained minister he saw in his near-death vision. Little details come into focus. He can taste the salt of the ocean and feel heat from the overhead sun. Light filters through a canopy of sheer white fabric. 

The crowd of onlookers is small. Of course, he sees Parker and Darlene and Lincoln. He sees Glenn, looking like a fucking dick as usual, but grinning nonetheless. He sees his brother’s family, the small children all wriggling around in their chairs. He sees a couple, a man and woman around retirement age, that he doesn’t quite recognize, but he understands that they’re Ethan’s parents. He sees his mother dab her eyes with a tissue while his father curls an arm around her shoulders, letting the faintest smile creep across his lips as he watches you slide a wedding band on Dieter’s ring finger. 

Atop your head sits a band of stars, forged from gold and adorned with dazzling crystals that glimmer in the sunlight. Corona Borealis for his Princess of Crete. Your dress is cream-colored chiffon and lace and fucking perfect. You have on that smile, the one that takes up your whole face. The one you’re wearing now. 

You take the washcloth from him and dunk it under the hot, sudsy water, then bring it to his chest. The smile on your lips lingers as you wash, lathering up his skin with tiny iridescent bubbles. 

“What does Darlene think of all this?” you ask, glancing up at him. 

Smoothing his hands around to the small of your back, he shrugs and pulls your slick body closer, “In a personal sense, supportive. She helped a lot actually. Held down the fort while I was in New York.” 

“While you were—” you scoff, shaking your head with an amused grin, “Dieter, what the fuck have you been up to?” 

“Long story, I’ll tell you on the drive home,” he grins. 

“Fine,” you snort and roll your eyes, but fold forward against his chest. His eyes drift closed as he relaxes into the heat of your body pressed to his. Fingertips sliding against his collarbone, you ask, “So the blowback to your career has been minimal?” 

He gulps when he contemplates how to answer, not wanting to scare you into a spiral that sends you running again. But it is what it is. You’ll find out sooner or later anyway. 

“Not… necessarily. It’s been pretty brutal, actually. Mark and Darlene wanted me to throw you under the bus and move on without you, but I refused. So they dropped me.” 

You prop yourself up and frown at him, “I thought you said Darlene—”

“She was helping me find you, Lua. She’s supportive of our relationship as my friend, but…”

Your eyebrow quirks, “The optics are shit?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, searching your surprisingly serene face, “It’s ok, though, you know. You were right, I don’t enjoy it anymore. Acting, I mean. I think I’ve been too scared to try anything else, but… I don’t know. I think I’m ready now. I’m ready for the next chapter of my life.” 

“You could try writing,” you offer as you trace his jawline, “I could find a job at a bakery or something. It’ll be ok. We’ll figure it out, I know we will.” 

He nods, “We will.”

“I love you, Dee,” you say, holding his gaze, “We can do fucking anything together.”

Your certainty hits him square in the chest. 

For him, love always cast a dark shadow of fear that warned him to be distant. Not too eager or enthusiastic. Careful not to be fumbled by the wrong hands and wind up broken. 

It doesn’t feel like that anymore, he thinks. 

Your presence in his life has always been big and blinding. The warmth of your love has blistered his skin more times than he can count. He has dedicated hours upon hours of his life this past year trying to understand your magnitude and longevity, trying to measure the shadow that the fear of losing you cast. The dimensions fluctuated in a non-linear sort of way, waxing and waning with the circumstances surrounding your relationship. 

But now? 

You are the sun at high noon. No fucking shadow in sight. 

—

“All set?”

“I think so,” you zip up your suitcase and look up at Dieter as he leans against the doorframe. Your stomach growls and you groan, “If we don’t get food soon—” 

“I found a Denny’s about 30 miles away. Open on Christmas.” 

“Thank fucking god.” 

Dieter chuckles and buries his hands in his coat pockets, “Oh, by the way…”

He pulls out a small, familiar sketchpad and hands it to you. Nostalgia spreads warm across your chest as you open the cover and flip through Ethan’s artwork. Each page depicts dark and painful images that tug at your heart, reminding you of how much he was suffering. 

“How did you—?”

“Part of the long story. Tell you on the way home. But, umm… I figured you should have it.” 

You nod, pausing to study a high-contrast illustration that feels different from the previous pages. At first, it just looks like a collection of bold black triangles. The edges and points are crisp. Precise. But as you stare at it, your perspective shifts. The white paper beneath the black ink starts to stand out bright, then rises above the dark hollows. 

When it comes into focus, you gasp. 

It’s a face. 

It’s your face, carved out from negative space. 

“That one’s my favorite,” Dieter tells you, “He, umm… he was really talented.” 

Through your burgeoning tears, you smile, “Yeah. He was great.” 

You tear the portrait from the sketchbook and hand it to Dieter, who asks, “What about the rest?” 

Instead of answering, you step past him and take the sketchbook to the living room, where you lower yourself down in front of the fireplace and open the grate. Dieter follows, sitting down beside you as you tear out the first page and feed it to glowing embers in the hearth. 

Flames crackle to life, burning the paper to ash. 

You give it another. 

And another. 

And another. 

When the sketchbook is just an empty shell, you toss it in. Then Dieter hands you something. You glance it over for a moment, recognizing the painful passage you wrote the night before. You give that to the fire, too. 

He takes your hand and sits there with you while the flames die and return to smolders. 

“How’d that feel?” he asks eventually. 

“Fucking perfect.” 

You turn to him, searching his face, “Thank you.” 

The corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk and he squeezes your hand, “Anytime, doll.” 

When you lean in to kiss him, his lips are soft and warm against yours. A sensation swells in your chest, this glowing kaleidoscope of patterns that shifts and twists into a million brilliant images. It feels like forever in the best way. It feels like heaven. 

He pulls back, those big ganache eyes meeting yours, “You ready?” 

“Yeah,” you nod and smile at him, “I’m ready. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Groaning, Dieter climbs to his feet and holds out his hand to you. You accept it, letting him help you up. Your hands stay firmly locked together as he grabs your ratty old suitcase and leads you to the door, out of the dark room and into the bright midday sun.

[wannab-urs]

Title: Scotty Doesn't Know

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Summary: Scotty doesn't know you're hooking up with Dieter

Tags: songfic, smut, infidelity, dieter is a loser, scotty doesn't really deserve this he's just annoying, crack taken seriously, porn with the barest of plots, barely edited. WC: 2.8k

A/N: the song came on and I thought it would make a funny dieter fic? I'm shadowbanned and marked explicit rn, so lemme earn it with this gratuitous smut fic.

Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Scotty doesn't know that [Reader] and me

Do it in my van every Sunday

She tells him she's in church but she doesn't go

Still she's on her knees and Scotty doesn't know

–

The parkin' lot, why not?

It's so cool when you're on top

Dieter: Here 8=D

You slip out of the church, the preacher just getting started, and head to the back of the parking lot. Dieter’s beat up old VW bus, affectionately called “The Van,” is nestled between two big pickup trucks. Even if Scotty drives by the church, there’s no way he’ll see that Dee is here. 

You pull open the side door, cringing at the loud rattle. Dieter is completely naked, laid out in a suggestive pose and smirking at you. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Dieter.”

“But I’m cute. Get in here!” 

You clamber into the van and roll the door shut behind you before sitting on the old beat up mattress beside Dee. He plucks at the thin straps of your sundress. 

“I like this, baby. It’s pretty. Take it off.” 

You roll your eyes at him but strip your dress off anyway. You ditch your panties while you’re at it and kick both your sandals into the very back of the van, before sitting back down on your knees beside Dieter. He pulls you in for a sloppy kiss with way too much tongue, and you shriek and slap his chest. 

“Quiet! You wouldn’t want Scotty to find out…” he waggles his eyebrows at you. 

You push him so that he falls flat on his back and straddle him. He slips his hand between your legs, dragging his thick fingers through your slick and then pushing one inside to the knuckle. The chunky ring on his middle finger digs into your labia. 

“Ow Dieter, your fu- fucking ring is stabbing me.” 

“I’m not taking it off.” Dieter pumps his finger into you just to emphasize his point and you whimper. 

“I actually can’t stand you. It’s gonna bruise,” you whine.

“Not like Scotty goes down on you enough to ever see it.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but he has a point. You’re the only one who will know, and you’re not necessarily opposed to having Dieter’s mark on you as long as Scotty won’t find out. Instead of answering him, you lean forward and kiss him. Dieter adds his middle finger, curling his fingertips against your walls and fuck it feels good. 

You suck Dieter’s bottom lip into your mouth and pull back, nipping his lip before you separate from him completely. “Lemme ride you.” 

“Fuck yeah!” Dieter pulls his fingers out of you and slips them into his mouth as you line up with his cock. You sink down on him slowly, pressing your hands into his chest. Dieter’s head drops back onto the mattress when you bottom out. “It’s so cool when you’re on top,” he breathes, palming both of your tits. 

“It’s so cool when you shut up,” you retort, but some of the bite is lost in how breathless you sound. You lift up on your knees, letting him slide almost completely out of you before you drop back down. Dieter grabs your hips and forces you to roll them forward, dragging your clit along the coarse hair at his base. You let your head fall back between your shoulder blades. Let Dieter drag you back and forth on his cock until you can’t hold in your whimpers anymore. He’s so deep inside you, grinding into your g-spot, it’s not long before you feel your cunt flutter around him, feel yourself soak him with your slick. 

“That’s right baby, come on my cock,” he smirks at you. 

“You know, you don’t have to speak,” you say, pulling yourself off him. 

“Wait! I didn’t get to come yet,” Dieter pouts at you. And god help you, it’s too adorable to resist. His plush bottom lip sticking out and his big brown eyes welling with undoubtedly fake tears. 

You get situated between his thighs and take his dick in your hand. He looks extremely relieved, as if not coming would have been the end of the world. You lick a stripe from his balls to his tip, eyes never leaving his, and he whimpers, still pouting a little. You roll your eyes at him and suck him down to the root. He tries to buck into your mouth, but you pin his hips down and set your own pace. 

You cup his balls in your hand, rolling them gently as you suck him off. He rests his hands on the back of your head, not pushing or pulling you, just wanting to touch you. 

You really need to get back inside before the preacher wraps up his sermon, so you slip one finger behind his sack and press it into his perineum. Even indirect stimulation to his little bundle of nerves drives him insane, and his grip on the back of your head tightens as he comes down your throat with a strangled cry. 

“Fuck! Fucking fuck fuck fuck.” 

You pull off him with a pop, swiping your thumb across your bottom lip to make sure nothing spilled out. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Dieter sighs. 

[Reader] says she's out shopping

But she's under me

And I'm not stopping

“I’m at the mall. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Sure thing, babe. Love you!” Scotty hangs up before you even have to answer him. You shove your phone in your pocket and knock on Dieter’s apartment door. 

You hear a weird amount of shuffling and banging around before the door opens. Dieter’s hair is a complete wreck, his ratty green robe is hanging open to reveal nothing underneath, and eyes are still bleary with sleep. 

“It’s 3 in the afternoon. Did you just wake up?” 

“Yes. Now get in here,” Dieter grabs your hand and pulls you into his apartment. He slams the door shut and continues dragging you by the wrist until you’re in his room. His bed, or rather his mattress on the floor, is unmade… but at least it has sheets on it. 

Dieter doesn’t waste time stripping your clothes off of you, tossing his own robe into the pile on the floor. “So where are you today?” He asks as he kisses your neck, walking back toward the bed. 

“The mall,” you tell him as you sink down (way down) onto the bed and pull him on top of you. 

“Won’t you need shopping bags for that lie?” Dieter asks, dragging his aquiline nose down your throat, between the valley of your breasts, and kissing your belly. 

“He won’t notice,” you sigh, putting your hands in his messy hair and pushing his head down between your legs. You’re already wet, just from seeing him naked at the door, as much as you hate to admit it. 

You’re really not sure what it is about this loser that turns you on so much. It’s probably his massive dick and pretty face – two things Scotty is not in possession of. 

Dieter licks a stripe through your folds and moans at the taste. You love how much he loves to eat you out. Dieter pulls your legs over his shoulders and buries his face between your legs, stuffing his tongue in your cunt and grinding his nose into your clit. You tug on his hair and he whines into your skin. 

He pulls back and nips your thigh. “Dieter! Don’t–” He plunges two fingers into your cunt, cutting off the reprimand. His ring nestles right up to the bruise he left the other day and it hurts, but you like it. 

“Don’t make a mark,” Dieter mocks. “I know, baby.” He places his lips over your clit and sucks on it in time to the thrust of his fingers. You fucking love his mouth, tell him as much with a long groan of his name. He curls his fingers into your walls, nibbles lightly on your clit. You arch your back and pull his face into you by his hair as you come, cunt clamping down on his fingers. He works you through it, gently massaging your g-spot until your body relaxes. 

“Fuck, Dieter.” 

“That’s the idea, babe.” Dieter pushes your legs off his shoulders and climbs on top of you. He rests his weight on one arm by your head and hitches your thigh over his hip with the other. His hard cock runs through your soaking pussy a few times before his head catches on your entrance and he slides in to the hilt. 

His head drops to your shoulder and he shudders out a breath. “Always feel so good, baby.” 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him tight to you as he starts rolling his hips. One of your hands slides up into that tousled mess of hair on his head and the other clings tightly to his shoulder. 

You tilt your head back, giving him space to kiss your neck as he ruts into you. Filthy, drawn out moans spill from your lips every time he bottoms out. His only sounds are little grunts of exertion, muffled by your skin. 

He drops your thigh and sits up on his knees, pulling you into his lap. He wraps his hands around the underside of your thighs and pushes your knees up toward your chest. “Gonna fuck you for real now, baby. Gonna make you scream my name.” 

You’d roll your eyes at him, but you know he’s right. He pushes back inside you, giving you a second to adjust to the new angle, and then he starts slamming his hips down into you. He’s hitting something so deep, you know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow. 

Maybe that’s his goal. 

You dig your nails into his shoulders, dragging them down his back as he absolutely rails you. (He doesn’t have a girlfriend to hide the marks from). “Oh GOD, Dieter. FUCK.” You curse as he bottoms out again and again. 

His curls are sweaty with exertion and hanging over his forehead, bouncing with every thrust of his hips. You focus your eyes there as you feel your entire body tense up. He drops one of your legs and leans forward, crashing his mouth into yours just as you come on his cock. The tight squeeze of your cunt around him sends him over the edge and you feel his hips stutter as he comes inside you with a groan. 

He collapses onto the bed beside you and drags you into his arms, not even bothering to clean you up. You curl up on his sweaty chest and he nuzzles his face into your hair. 

“So what time do you have to be done ‘shopping?’” 

“Too soon.” 

I can't believe he's so trusting

While I'm right behind you thrusting

[Reader]'s got him on the phone

And she's trying not to moan

It's a three-way call and he knows nothing, nothing

Your phone rings not even a full minute after Dieter makes you come all over his face. You flail your arm out to the side until your hand hits the bedside table, fumbling around for the device.

It’s Scotty.

“Hey baby!” you answer in a probably-too-chipper tone. 

“Hi, babe. What are you up to?” Scotty asks. Dieter signals for you to put the phone on speaker, which you don’t do. 

“Oh just reading. How was your day?” Dieter grabs your hips and flips you over on the bed, so that you’re lying on your stomach. You suppress the yelp that almost falls from your lips. 

“Put it on speaker,” Dieter growls in your ear. “Or I’ll make this even harder for you.” You feel yourself get even wetter despite your annoyance. 

You put the phone on speaker and listen to Scotty continue to ramble on about his day. Dieter pulls your hips backwards until you’re on your knees. He drags his fingers through your very wet core and strokes his dick a couple times. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Scotty that su-ucks,” you stutter as Dieter sheathes himself inside you. 

“You good babe?” Scotty’s tinny voice filters out of your flip phone. 

“Yeah! Just choked on my own spit…” 

Dieter snorts and you shoot a glare over your shoulder at him. He smirks at you, drawing his hips back and sliding back in slowly. He’s not dumb enough to cause your skin to slap together, but he is a fucking idiot for doing this in the first place. 

Scotty keeps rambling on about some asshole customer at the Dairy Queen he works at, and you bite back a moan as Dieter grinds his hips against your ass, pressing his cock in deep. 

He grabs your hair in his fist and pulls so that your head is tipped back and starts fucking into you at a steady pace, stopping just short of bottoming out so that the only noise is the wet drag of him through your core. 

“What’s that weird sound in the background?” 

“Huh?” Your body tenses with anxiety, but it just causes you to tighten around Dieter and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. 

“There’s like, a weird noise I don’t know.” 

“Probably just my cat, babe.” Dieter snorts again, but you can’t really do anything about it in your current position. You decide to stop worrying so much and enjoy yourself. 

You drop down to your elbows and push your ass higher in the air. The change in angle has his cock brushing your g-spot on every thrust and you bite your pillow to muffle any noises you don’t manage to hold back. 

Dieter fucks you as hard as he can without making too much noise – he doesn’t really want you to get caught, after all. Half the fun is cucking Scotty. 

“Okay babe, I gotta get back to work. See you later?” Scotty drones.

“Later!” You manage to choke out before scrambling to flip your phone shut. The second it’s closed, you toss it on the floor and let out a loud moan. Dieter finally starts fucking you like he wanted to in the first place, and the loud slapping of his hips against your ass fills the room. 

You come with a scream, burying your face in your pillow and thrusting your hips back to meet Dieter’s. He fucks you through it and doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting deep inside you, hitting something that has you screaming into your pillow. He doesn’t stop fucking you until you come again, and only then does he follow you over the edge. 

He pulls out and spreads your ass cheeks, watching his cum drip from your hole, then he drapes himself over your body and whispers in your ear. “Was that your first three way?” 

You’re so fucked out you can’t be mad at him, which was probably his goal. You giggle deliriously. “Mmhmm.” You drop all the way down to the bed, sprawling out. Dieter wiggles in close to you and wraps his arms around you. 

His front lawn in the snow

Life is so hard 'cause Scotty doesn't know

Scotty doesn't know

I did her on his birthday

It’s Scotty’s birthday. So really, you should be by his side. Instead, he’s inside getting wasted with his friends, and you’re in his side yard… getting railed by Dieter. 

Dieter has you against the house, your long skirt pinned above your hips, and one leg hitched around his waist. His lips are attached to your neck and you should really tell him to stop before he leaves a mark, but you don’t want him to. 

He snaps his hips into you rapidly and you brace yourself on his shoulders and rock your hips to meet his thrusts, panting into the frozen air. 

“It’s cold as fuck, Dieter, hurry.” 

“You fucking hurry.” He slips his hand between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit. 

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you whine. You’re so fucking close to coming – just a couple more minutes like this and you’d be clenching on his cock. But life doesn’t always work out that way. 

The sound of the back door slamming causes both of you to jump and your foot slips out from under you. Both of you go crashing to the icy ground, Dieter landing on top of you. 

“What the fuck is going on out here?” Scotty asks, clearly pissed. 

“Oh SHIT!” Dieter starts to try to come up with some bullshit excuse, but you just scramble to your feet and take off running to the front yard. Dieter follows close behind you, dragging his pants up as he runs. 

You throw the side door of his van open and jump in as Dieter hops in the front seat. Scotty makes it to the curb right as Dieter peels away. You slam the door shut and fall back on the mattress. Dieter glances back over his shoulder, a big goofy grin on his face. 

“So I guess Scotty knows.” 

I hope you enjoyed this truly ridiculous fic <3

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Princess - Laura Kinney x gn!Reader

A/N: I mentioned it before, but I’ll say it again coz it’s probably necessary; I have not read Laura’s comics in a while. I don’t really have easy access to them rn, so this is mostly based off of vibes and the movies. If she’s ooc, that’s my bad

Also, while Laura and Reader’s ages are never stated in the fic, they are both over 18!

Based off this request

CW: anger, not really at Reader; femdom; Laura is called princess by the Reader, as a power trip for Laura; mentioned stripping; denial of feelings; kissing; grinding; very mild threats; explicit sexual content; smut; facesitting; cunnilingus; oral sex (Laura receiving); mild erotic asphyxiation; Laura speaks Spanish in this (only a little); multiple orgasms; implied overstimulation; fluffy ending; probably ooc Laura

881 words

The moment her bedroom door slams, you know what’s up. What’s coming.

You can hear her footsteps stomping down the hall. You can practically hear her muttered growls, the routine so familiar to you by now.

You’re only a little embarrassed that the sounds get you excited. You can’t really help yourself. You and Laura have been doing this for months now. At some point your body’s gonna get used to the routine.

Your door opens and shuts. You look up, giving her a smile that fades in the force of her expression. She’s pissed today.

“Get on the bed,” she orders, crossing her arms with a scowl. “And no, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You nod as you obey. “Yes, princess.”

Laura preens at the pet name. It’s her favorite, ever since she watched that silly movie. It’s her thing now; she loves princesses. And every time you two get together, she’s your princess for the night.

But not in the cute way. Oh no. You’re not royalty here as well. You’re the lowly peasant. Her princess title is one of power. And she loves it when you use it.

You get on the bed and get comfy as usual. This time, though, you prop yourself up to watch as she angrily kicks off her training uniform. Clearly something happened during training.

She eyes you crossly but lets you watch. You like watching her. Like seeing your princess strip until she’s bare for you.

She growls a little as she crawls onto the bed. Pushing you down onto your back.

“I don’t like you,” she says bluntly.

“I know.” You smile up at her.

Laura scowls back. “Whatever.”

When she kisses you, it’s full of teeth and tongue. Sharp and sloppy and mean. You revel in it, licking into her mouth as eagerly as she’s licking into yours.

She moans softly, shifting to straddle you. She grinds against you a little, just enough for you to feel how wet she is. It almost makes you smile. Briefly you wonder if she gets turned on by the routine just as you do. If she was already wet before she even opened the door.

Then she pulls back and your train of thought is interrupted. “You’d better make me feel good,” she says, her voice only mildly threatening.

You nod. “Will do, princess.”

Laura smiles at the pet name and moves over you. She’s completely bare to you, nothing separating your mouth and her core except for air.

You’re the one to pull her down. To grip her hips and press her dripping pussy to your greedy mouth. And oh, do you feast.

You lap at her core, dragging your tongue teasingly over her entrance. Making her whimper and grip the headboard of your bed. You love the sounds she makes, especially when she’s all worked up like this.

You flick your tongue against her clit, sucking on it lightly. She curses and growls, squeezing your head with her thighs. You can barely breathe and you’ve never felt better.

You moan against her pussy, slurping up her slick like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. She whines above you as you push your tongue inside her. Your nose nudges against her clit and she grinds against your face.

Laura curses again, crying out your name. You moan in response, fucking her with your tongue. Then you switch it up, going back to teasing her. She snarls, but it turns into a desperate whimper as you suck on her clit again.

You can’t deny this is your favorite part of any day. It’s the sounds she makes, the feel of her squeezing your head, the way you get to run your tongue through her folds and lap up her delicious slick.

You feel dizzy, lightheaded from limited amounts of oxygen you’re getting, but you don’t care. Not when your princess is grinding against your mouth like she’s desperate to get off.

Judging by the whining sounds she’s making, she is desperate. And you love it when she gets like this. You tease her for a little longer, making her curse and whimper and finally order you around.

“Make me cum or I’m never— Mierda!” She cries out as you suck on her clit again, swirling your tongue around it.

This time, you don’t let up and you don’t tease. Not until she’s cumming on your face, soaking your mouth and chin with slick and cum.

You moan, keeping her firmly against you as you greedily clean her up. Even as she squirms and whines above you, you keep her pussy pressed to your face.

She cums again and you finally let her go.

She rolls off you with a moan, collapsing next to you on the bed. She mutters something in Spanish that sounds halfway between praise and a curse. You laugh and pull her against you.

She nuzzles into your body, fitting herself against you. “Still don’t like you,” she mutters.

You smile. “I know, princess.”

She doesn’t pull away like usual. Instead, she nuzzles her face against your neck and presses a soft kiss there. “Whatever.”

You let her cuddle as long as she wants. She’s your princess, after all. And whatever your princess wants from you, she gets.

[kazuyummy]

🌴 POSITIONS - MIYUKI KAZUYA X READER

in which your husband kazuya takes you on a vacation to a five-star tropical resort and fucks you any chance he gets.

tw: alcohol, penetrative sex about: afab!reader, mentions of genitalia. no plot and tbh barely any characterization, just pure smut and tropical vacay vibes!! 🏝

note: anything in blue is a link to an image (the ones in the titles are nsfw so open at your own risk) but not necessary for reading - just something to help imagine the positions you and kazuya are in and show where my inspirations came from.

cover pic: sato_1_11 on danbooru

‎

in the morning

waking up next to miyuki kazuya with an ocean breeze rustling through your windows, the smell of saltwater filling your nose, and rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains are enough to make you think you've died and found paradise. it's as if time has slowed here - no reason not to blink your eyes slowly; take deep breaths; stretch your limbs out past silk covers as if they were moving through water. your lover rouses beside you, instinctively turning over to snuggle closer.

"mmm, you smell like pineapple."

you giggle, "i don't normally use hotel shampoo, but this resort? they're spoiling me even more than you do, kazuya."

"well, well. we can't have that, can we?"

you shriek in laughter as he begins nibbling at your neck and earlobe, covering you in kisses. he hooks a leg over your already nude form to prevent you from avoiding his affections as you roll to your side, arms stretched above your head.

you purr as he reaches around, brushing your clit and snaking down to find you already wet. his other arm finds one of your outstretched ones, locking fingers and giving you a squeeze.

"fuckin' beautiful. i get to wake up to this every morning 'til i die."

he continues his onslaught onto your neck, and you're getting impatient, beginning to rut your hips. it's not that neither of you are into foreplay - usually quite the opposite, actually - but you both just love an early morning sidefuck, to be blunt. the way his body moulds into yours, how your legs tangle, and the way your orgasm feels when half-asleep, waking you up and making you want to fall into slumber in his arms all the same.

"kazuya, i'm close." he shifts his leg so that he's driving into you further, hand supporting the back of your thigh as he fills you with his load, biting and kissing whatever he can as you both recede from your highs, like waves after they crash on the shore.

between peppered kisses and sweet 'i love you's, you take your time getting ready for the rest of the day ahead. ☁︎

‎

in the afternoon

coming back from brunch and drinks at the swim-up bar leaves you wanting a catnap - but not without leaving you and your dearest satisfied, of course. with your swimsuit still on, you decide to take a short dip in your private pool as kazuya eyes you from his towel laid out onto the deck.

you've just emerged from under the water, flipping your hair back mermaid-style, which splashes him a bit in the process. he gives you a playful frown - you know he can't do much since you have the upper hand being in the water. so he resorts to his words and coos,

"gonna get me worked up every time i see you in that bikini, sweetheart."

"oh? and what about without it?"

your line's cliché but it's certainly got his full attention - you begin to strip off in the pool, water dripping down your body as you lift yourself out and begin making your way to where he's lying down.

his eyes sparkle amber in the tropical sun, chestnut hair already dried and framing his boyish, mischievous smile. you love the predatory look he wears, eyeing you shamelessly.

you pick up his glass of champagne - an expensive, fruity blend that came in an ice bucket upon your arrival - sipping it up and leaning down to spill it from your mouth into his. it's messy as he sticks his tongue out, eyes half-lidded with droplets running down his cheeks onto the towel. cold water drips from the ends of your hair onto his body, each touch like a small zap to his skin.

in an instant, he's made his way up, tugging his swim trunks down to reveal his thick, waiting cock under a bit of bronze tanline.

his strong arms hoist you up, not even making it back to the room (which might be a blessing for housekeeping and the state of your bed given how soaked you are from the pool) and sitting you on a nearby plush lounge sofa.

he's quick to dive into your folds, nose brushing your clit as he tastes you. his shoulder pushes one thigh apart and his right hand the other - his left hand is busy spreading you open for him. he's always so patient but commanding when eating you out, forearms flexed and eyes looking up into yours whenever he edges you until finally he lets you come, toes curling and his tongue unrelenting.

he doesn't give you a break after you finish, lifting you once more to seat himself under you. you're straddling his outstretched legs, making out with sun-kissed lips and sending shivers down his spine from the cool water still on your skin. you manoeuvre to take in his cock, both of you remaining sat up, foreheads touching and breath mingling.

kazuya takes the half-full glass of champagne from beside you, pouring it slowly down your neck and lapping it up where it collects on your breasts. he takes a nipple into his mouth, suckling and pulling gently with his teeth.

he has your hips rolling, desperate to milk him. he feels you tighten, his grip around your waist getting stronger as he nears release,

"fuck - fuck, babe. gonna fill your little pussy up, take all of it - fuck!"

his head falls to your shoulder with a groan, pulling back after with a light chuckle when he realizes how sticky you both are - from the sweat, the champagne, and your own emissions.

"guess another dip in the pool is needed - i'm gonna splash you this time, though." ☀︎

‎

in the middle of the night

walking under a starry sky on the beach in a cute little sundress means that kazuya can barely keep his hands off of you, wanting to spank you every time the dress shows the outline of your ass and resisting the urge to mark your bare collarbone that glows under the moonlight.

you giggle, playfully pushing him away and stumbling a bit as you do so. a couple more fancy cocktails after your small nap earlier have you a bit tipsy again.

"we're in public, babe!"

"and? do you see anyone around? besides, i'm sure you'd love people seeing me bend you over and take you right here."

you try to act nonchalant, but heat makes its way to your cheekbones. you sigh exasperatedly,

"you haven't had enough today, kazuya?"

he takes a handful of your ass and squeezes,

"i dunno, have you?"

he knows he's called your bluff when you let out a small moan that goes right to his crotch.

"didn't think so."

you reach your private resort again, the door threatening to fly off its hinges with the force you use to push it open and drag kazuya in behind you. his lips attack yours as he pushes your back up against the wall, one hand going down to circle your clit and the other gripping both wrists and above your head.

"d'you know what you do to me, sweetheart? what this cute little dress on you does?"

he releases your wrists and pulls one down to the front of his pants to feel his bulge pushing against the cloth. you whimper, which only makes him rub at you more frantically.

"please, kazuya... i can't get enough of your cock. i need it."

he's breathing heavily now, dipping two fingers inside you and scissoring them until he pulls them out, making you suck on them.

"careful what you wish for. 'm feeling impatient, y'know?"

his words ring true, because while he'd normally tease you, he takes you to the bed, stripping you both, lying down, and hoisting you up onto those muscular thighs so that your back is on his chest. he reaches around to align himself before plunging into you and hooking his arms around your thighs into a full nelson.

if today's sex so far was passionate and sensual, he's downright animalistic now, pistoning his hips into you, and you're unable to do anything else but take it. you can't quite see him going in and out of you, but you can see the way his balls slap your skin as he stretches you out, and how your tits bounce almost to the point of soreness with how hard he's going.

you can barely manage a sound but a choked gurgle, the pace he's setting sending you into overdrive as your eyes roll back into your head. you feel heat swell up inside you, like a bubble ready to burst - and that it does, your orgasm explosive, soaking sheets as you squirt around him with a garbled moan.

he follows suit shortly, his final thrusts forceful before you feel him fill you up, your walls squeezing him dry. post-orgasm kazuya is always a sight to behold, hair wild and eyes glazed over, nowhere near the composed state he normally carries himself in.

when he lies you down on the bed beside him, he watches as his seed leaks out of you slowly, white dripping with every flutter of your pussy. though exhausted, you bring a finger down to swipe some, bringing it to your tongue and sucking. with wide eyes, he breathes,

"god babe. i love you so much."

you clean each other up, taking one last look at the stars outside before fall asleep with a smile, knowing you get to do this all again tomorrow. ☽

ok some of the positions on the site are downright ridiculous and it was so funny to choose some. i know a part of most fiction in general is imagining the story without pictures... but i really wanted to try this concept of having visual aids. if the links don't work, let me know!

wish i took a bit more time to fully develop these scenes and up the tension but... i wanted this to be a shorter fic and kazuya and reader are horny little demons 😈

lmk which daiya boy i should write for next - i want to continue using the links to positions but would choose a different theme besides vacation! 🧳🧉