#those sliding block games

[love-fireflysong]

Anyone out there got any good recommendations for puzzle games? Playing rusty lake has got me in a huge puzzle vibe but the main puzzle/logic type games I own is the ace attorney and professor layton series but I want to try something new.

[minisugakoobies]

Day 5 ❄️ JHS

Kinks: praise kink, Christmas cookies

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: holiday, smut, Brother's Best Friend!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, just some good ol' fashioned fingerbanging in the kitchen, a bit of exhibitionism, praise kink, maybe a touch of sub/dom between reader and Hoseok, once again I am writing Stoner!Hobi with the addition of stoner himbos Joon Tae and JK, egregious use of the word 'cookies' as metaphor for reader's 🐱

Word Count: 3K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies

A/N: I wrote this one in one shot, in a fugue state after watching Hobi's 2022 MAMA performance. Please picture that Hobi here. 🥴

Please don't be a silent reader 🥺 I'd love to know what you think! 💕

Day 4 ❄️ Kinkmas Masterlist ❄️ Day 6

Grey snow slushes under your boots as you slowly make your way home from the bus stop. Another double shift down. Working as a server around the holidays is miserable. Between the irate shoppers making non-stop demands and the incessant Christmas music blasting through the overhead speakers, it’s enough to turn anyone into a Scrooge. 

But it’s fine. You’ll live. Just a few more days and the holidays will be behind you. And so will all these double shifts, hopefully. You’ve been saving up so you can have enough for the first and last month’s rent on a tiny little studio apartment a few blocks from here. A fresh start to the new year, in a place of your own. Where you can enjoy some peace and quiet for once. 

A place free from the chaos that greets you as you slip your key into the lock of your current home and swing the door open. Smoke floats past you into the hallway. Scrunching up your face, you peer past the clouds to find, as always, your twin brother and his friends crowded around the living room tv, absorbed in a mission in some stupidly loud, obnoxiously violent video game, laughing and shouting and throwing elbows (and occasionally, a fist or two). 

“About time you got home,” your brother calls out as you peel off your boots and puffer coat, hanging the latter on the broken rack by the door. Namjoon said he’d replace that four months ago when he and his friends broke it during a particularly raucous game of flip cup. You know he’s waiting for you to do it. You’re always the responsible one around here. 

“I told you I was working a double,” you remind him, rolling your eyes. He never listens. 

The others gradually realize you’re standing there. It’s like watching the world’s slowest wave undulate around the room. First Jungkook spots you from beneath his bucket hat and lifts a hand. A few seconds later, a very sleepy-eyed Taehyung notices Jungkook’s hand in the air and raises his own. Then Hoseok, the only member of the crew sitting quietly, splayed across half the couch in his oversized tee and dark joggers, rakes his eyes over your tired frame and gives you the chillest of nods, head barely tipping as his lips quirk in a silent smile. 

Ignoring the fluttering in your stomach, you nod back. “Hey guys.” You’re too exhausted to even bother to ask them to keep it down. They would, politely, for about five minutes, before the chronic blowing through their veins made them forget. So why bother. 

You shuffle into your bedroom, strip off your uniform, pull on some fleecy pants and a long-sleeve tee, and slide on a pair of cushy slippers. The act of physically removing your day brings a sense of relief, helped along by the comfy clothes. You’d love to climb directly into bed, but you can’t. Not just yet. 

Your brother and Jungkook are locked in a double headlock when you emerge from your bedroom. Probably arguing about something that one of them did in the video game. It’s never anything serious with those guys, but it does get messy sometimes, and as you stroll through the room towards the kitchen, you quickly grab the lamp from the end table and place it on the ground before Jungkook’s arm can knock it over.

Money’s been tight for a while, not helped by the rise in rent, the rise in utilities, the rise in everything basically, so between that and the little nest egg that you’ve been stashing away, you’ve had to get a little creative with your Christmas gifts this year. As in, you’re creating them from scratch. You connect your phone to the little speaker in the kitchen and put on a relaxing playlist as you wander around the small space, pulling out ingredients and tools until you have everything you need to make your favorite cookies.

The music drifting from the speaker isn’t enough to drown out the noise from the living room, but it doesn’t matter. You fall into a trance, measuring and mixing, turning mere ingredients into food, into love. Everything else falls away. Nothing else matters but this. Baking brings you zen. 

Unfortunately, your activity does not go unnoticed. The scent of baking cookies fills the air, and before long, you have visitors. Invaders, more precisely. On the hunt for your goodies. 

As you pull the first tray out of the oven, a head pops in the doorway. A hat, really, pulled down so low you see nothing but pink lips adorned with a silver ring. “You makin’ cookies, Noona?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Is that gingerbread?” a low voice drones behind Jungkook, as Taehyung follows him into the room. “Smells so good.” Namjoon is right on his heels, mouth hanging open a little as he spies the rows of perfectly baked gingerbread people resting on the warm tray. 

“Yes, it is, but these aren’t for you, so hands off, okay?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at all three men. They nod, and you turn away to put another tray in the oven. “These are for my friends. If you’re nice, maybe I’ll whip u- HEY!” 

There are three gingerbread people missing when you turn back, and all three men are chewing while exhaling loudly, trying not to burn their mouths on the hot cookies as they devour them. As they all reach for a second, you grab a spatula and swiftly slap their hands. 

Whack whack whack!

“Mmph!” Taehyung protests, rubbing his hand. He chokes down what’s left of his cookie. “That hurt, Noona!” 

“Well, maybe listen next time and you won’t get smacked!” You brandish the spatula like a wand, pointing it at each. 

A gentle chuckle sounds from the doorway, where Hoseok is propped against the frame, laughing at his friends’ pain. “Tell ‘em,” he says, crossing his arms. “They gotta learn.” 

You bite back a grin, rolling out more dough. 

“Sorry, Noona,” Jungkook mutters. “But can’t we have a couple? ‘M so hungry.” 

“That’s because you’ve been smoking all goddamn night,” you grumble, pressing the cookie cutter in. “Namjoon, if you don’t get your friends out of my kitchen right now, I’m going to try making real gingerbread people next. Starting with you, Jungkookie.” You shoot Jungkook a look, the one that he always tells you reminds him of Namjoon, even though you’re fraternal twins and don’t look a thing alike, and he holds his hands up in defense. 

“Come on. Be happy she only used the spatula, she’s lethal with that rolling pin,” your brother informs his friends as he shepherds them out of the room. “Yo, Tae-yah, you still got that hookup with that girl at the dumpling shop?”

Hoseok remains behind, studying your work. You don’t mind. Of all your brother’s friends, he’s usually the most respectful, quietly observing the mayhem around him. You’re used to the sensation of his eyes on you. 

Sometimes it’s what you think about, late at night, lying under the sheets, hand down your panties, biting your tongue to muffle your cries. Those dark eyes, watching you. 

“These are for your friends?” Hoseok finally speaks, pushing himself off the door frame. Hands in his pockets, he strolls towards you, still watching as you prepare another batch.

“Yeah. Not a lot of money for gifts this year, so…” you shrug. The heat from the oven has turned the tiny room into a sauna. Your fleecy pants feel like a terrible choice. Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, you look up at Hoseok, and he laughs. 

“You’ve got a bit of…” He trails off as he steps closer, and your breath catches in your chest as he raises a hand to brush across your forehead. His gentle fingertips come away with flour on them. 

“Th-thanks,” you stammer, quickly busying yourself with the dough again, cutting out enough to finish filling the tray. 

“So can I have one then?” 

“Uh…” Loud yelling from the living room tells you that your brother and the other two have started their game again. 

Hoseok leans against the counter, heart-shaped mouth set in a soft smile. “You said they’re for your friends. We’re friends, right?” 

Friends. Right. That’s what you are. “Yeah, sure.”

He beams then, a brilliant smile that flashes across his face in an instant and then disappears. Even though the cookies are identical, he takes a moment to examine the selection before picking one. 

“This one looks perfect,” he announces, and you hum distractedly, moving cooled cookies into containers. Even though you’re not looking at him, you know exactly when he bites into the cookie, because he lets out a loud moan. “Mmmmm!” 

You hum again, trying to ignore the fact that his effusive response went straight to your gut. You continue to pack the treats away, filling the tins you’ll be giving to your friends.

“Didn’t know you had this talent,” he muses, chewing thoughtfully. “Why’ve you been hiding it?” 

“I haven’t been hiding it,” you laugh, cocking an eyebrow. “I just haven’t had much time to bake lately.” 

“Yeah, I noticed you haven’t been around much,” he states, and you hope he doesn’t see the way you freeze momentarily at his words. “You’re working yourself to death. You gotta take time to relax, you know.” 

“Oh? Never heard that before, thanks for the advice,” you grin. “I just gotta get through the holidays and then I can relax.”

“In your new place, right?” He reads the surprise on your face. “Joon told us you’re moving out.” 

“Yeah, I am. I just need my own space.” 

He nods.

After sliding the last tray in the oven, you help yourself to a cookie. 

Hoseok grins. “There you go, that’s more like it. Enjoy a little treat. They’re really good.” He tilts his head. “Can I have another?” 

You have just enough cookies to fill all the tins you’d purchased, just enough batches for all of your friends. But what’s one more?

“Yeah, okay, but that’s it.” 

Again, he deliberates before choosing one. As his teeth sink in, he lets out another groan, and you clench involuntarily at the way his voice drops into a low rasp. “Fuck, these are so good!”

Is this what he sounds like all the time? Maybe it’s a good thing he’s always so quiet when he’s here. Because you’re wet enough that you can feel your underwear sticking to you as you start to clean up.

“Seriously, what do I have to do to get one of these tins?” he asks, tapping on a lid. 

You nearly bite your lip in half as you keep all your suggestions at bay. “Listen, if you really want some, I’ll just make another small batch, okay? I think I have enough ingredients left…” 

“Mmmm, you’re such a good baker! The best!” Hoseok moans around a mouthful, and you’re not sure if it’s his husky tone, or the words themselves, but something hits you like a bolt, and you swallow thickly. 

And then you whimper. 

Your eye is immediately drawn to Hoseok, like your body wants you to see his reaction even as your brain is cringing. He pauses with his hand to his mouth, little gingerbread legs in the air, and stares at you for a moment before he blinks. 

“Uh, this batch will just take a minute,” you inform him, nervously grabbing your spatula again for something to do. 

Hoseok just nods. “It’s nice of you to make some more. Thank you.” He shifts a little, comes closer so you’re between him and the counter. 

“Oh, that’s - sure. You’re welcome.” Waving your spatula to emphasize that it's nothing, you start to measure your ingredients again, hyper aware of his nearness. If you turned your head right now, you know you’d see those dark eyes watching you. It’s so tempting, but you keep pouring your flour. 

“You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?” he says, but it’s really more of a purr with all that bass rumbling through his voice, and again you feel that pulse of arousal hit you, and this time you clearly whine. 

Again, you glance directly at Hoseok as the sound fades, and can’t move as his eyes slowly wander down to your breasts and back. 

“You’re always so good to us when we’re here. Always taking care of us. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” He moves towards you, slow and sure, his arms coming up to grip the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Like tonight, cleaning up so we don’t break stuff. Or feeding us, even when you say you won’t. Such a sweet girl.” You’re gripping the spatula so hard, you think it might crack. If you leaned forward just the slightest bit, your nose would brush his. “Such a good girl.” 

For once, you’re thankful for the loud commotion in the living room, because it means your brother did not just hear you moan, “Fuck, Hoseok,” in the kitchen.

You’ve never seen such a wicked smile from your brother’s best friend as he gently peels the spatula from your hand. “You like it when I call you a good girl?” 

What is happening to you makes no sense. You spend all day getting called ‘good girl’ by patronizing customers and sexist assholes. And yet when Hoseok rolls those words around his pretty pink tongue, you become a whimpering, wet mess. 

Maybe it’s because he seems to mean it. Or maybe it’s because it’s him. Either way, you let out a strangled noise at his question, and his grin sharpens. 

“That’s what I thought.” His lips hover over yours. “Can I kiss you, sweet girl?” 

The only way to answer him is with your own lips, tilting your chin up to meet his mouth. The kiss is soft, lingering, like he’s taking his time studying your lips the way he’s always studying you with his gaze. Then he slides his tongue out, tapping at your bottom lip, and you let him in, let him press his body against yours, nearly gasping when his hard length pushes against your hip. 

“Hoseok, you want some dumplings? We’re getting some!” 

As if your brother’s voice were a bolt of lightning striking between you, you and Hoseok split apart. Hoseok looks at you for a moment, chest rising as he catches his breath. 

“Nah, man, I’m good. Got a sweet treat instead,” Hoseok shouts back. You roll your eyes and he smirks.

“Aw, did you get a cookie? That’s not fair!” Jungkook exclaims.

“Shut up, you had one too, dumbass!” With that, you hear the recognizable sound of your brother and Jungkook wrestling again. 

A sudden yank on the waistband of your pants draws your attention. Hoseok tugs again, and then he slips his fingers beneath. 

He doesn’t move his hand, just slides it into your pants, and stares into your eyes. You hold your breath as you hear another shout. 

“I want another cookie, Noona!” Taehyung yells. “Aren’t they good, Hoseok?” 

Hoseok crooks an eyebrow, just the slightest bit, and you nod. His fingers dip between your thighs, and when they find the wetness there, he hisses. “They’re so good, Tae-yah!” he declares, middle finger disappearing between your folds. 

Your hands grasp at his biceps as you pitch forward, moaning at the sudden intrusion. His finger is long enough to curl perfectly into your most sensitive spot, and he employs a rapid tickling motion that makes your knees buckle. 

“Hoseok, holy fuck!” 

Is this really happening? Are you really letting your brother’s best friend fingerfuck you in the kitchen? Where anyone could walk in and see him knuckle deep in your throbbing cunt? 

Yes, it is. And you know what? You deserve this little treat.

“Ah, sweet girl, I just love your cookies so much.” Hoseok licks his lips as he adds a second finger. “Can’t resist.”

Taehyung calls again. “Can I please have another?” 

“Focus on the game, hyung, damn!” Jungkook yells, but not a second later adds, “Can I have one too?”

The thrusting of Hoseok’s fingers makes it hard for you to think straight. Everything about this moment makes it difficult, honestly - the way his arms flex under your fingers, the way his cock keeps bumping against your thigh, the way his eyes haven’t left yours for a second. 

“Tell them no,” Hoseok whispers, thumb ghosting over your clit before he presses into the nub firmly enough to make your hips buck into his hand. “No more for them!” 

“N…” Hoseok pushes against your clit again and you see stars. “No, no cookies for you!” 

There’s a burst of laughter from the living room that perfectly covers the wail you let out as Hoseok fucks you with three fingers, hard and fast. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, free hand cupping the back of your neck to kiss you. “So sweet, so good for me.” And with that praise, you come with a muffled cry against his lips. When your cunt stops clenching around his fingers, he removes them, and brings them to his mouth to suck them clean.

You groan, lightly pushing on his chest. He laughs, taking a step back, and you suck in a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. “Don’t make me grab the spatula.” 

“Think you’ll do any baking in your new place?” 

Caught off guard by the question, you furrow your brows. “Probably?” 

“Good. You better text me if you do.” His gaze roams your body again, and you swear you feel an aftershock from your orgasm. “I definitely want more of your cookies.”

Masterlist ❄️ Find me on AO3 ❄️

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

Taglist 1: @babycoffeefire; @parkdatjimin; @reliablemitten; @yuugehn; @ut-dixisti; @hesperantha; @seokjinger-ale; @bangtanintotheroom; ​​@taeshuworld; @nch327; @hannahbee12719ficrecs; @7minsuga96; @dvalitaes; @thatlongspringnight; @miscelunaaa; @acquiescence804; @itsirisz; @velvetskize; @starbtslove; @ajw05; @bruisedscrewedandtattooed; @minesuga; @greezenini; @aznstoner; @jkkkkkay; @xuxibelle; @soeur-de-ame; @boraborabts; @signmybook; @bbl32; @codeinebelle; @here4btsfics; @itbtoblikethatsometimes; @kookprada; @addictedtohobi; @shatzkrinslinzki; @jaiuneamesolitaiire; @joonjulyagust-d; @jinsquishes; @btsgotjams27; @allamericanuniverse; @pleaseshutupsara; @guvgguk; @goodgollyitslolly; @laylasbunbunny; @goldensugarywaffles; @jadda98; @lovelye79; @moonacholy; @luaspersona

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[rachoxpotato]

🎲 Charlie Barber x Female Reader   ⚠️  babysitter/client relationship, age difference (reader 18), inappropriate use of Scrabble tiles, hand kink, Daddy, cunnilingus, p in v ✏️ 3k words -

Henry's been asleep since before Charlie got home.

Since putting him to bed, you’ve managed to put away almost all of the night’s activities and start the dishwasher. You’re heading into the living room, sights set on picking up the game of Scrabble (in which Henry insisted ‘gleeba’ is a word) when the front door opens.

“Hey, Mister Barber,” you greet from the floor as you slide the tiles from your letter racks onto the board.

He approaches with a smile on his face and stands over you—tall, towering, his hands on his hips. You swallow and continue tossing tiles onto the board so you can more easily funnel them back into their bag.

"Wanna play?" Charlie asks. "Or do you need to get home?"

Even as he asks the question, he takes a seat on the floor, clearly confident in what your response will be. 

He’s right.

"I can play," you say, dumping the tiles onto the carpet as Charlie flips them with thick fingers. 

Desperately attempting to focus on anything that isn’t those hands, you spend an unnecessarily long amount of time straightening his wooden tile rack, ensuring it’s perfectly placed. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his two massive palms covering practically all of the tiles as he swirls them around, mixes them up, and you stop breathing when your own fingers graze his.

You choose seven wooden blocks. 

“Ladies first,” he says with a smile, voice so deep, it shakes your core. You place your tiles across the star to play ‘CATCH,’ and then take five tiles to replace them.

Charlie keeps score, tallying up your points for you on the pad. 

Such a dad.

“How was your meeting tonight?” you ask so you have an excuse to look at his face. 

He shrugs, face laced with concentration as he anticipates his next move. 

“Fine. Boring.” 

You smile. “Hopefully this is a bit more titillating.” 

Charlie looks up at you. His eyes fall to your chest as he considers your word choice and you clench as your heart rate speeds up. 

“It definitely is, Sweetheart,” he says, voice deep, as he returns his own focus to the letters in front of him. 

You’d been babysitting Henry since you were 16, even before Charlie and Nicole broke up. Conveniently enough, you live in the apartment above them and over the years, you’d grown attached to Henry. He’s smart and funny, he always remembers you and doesn’t need Charlie to reintroduce you. And he’s a good kid, easy to hang out with. You never mind canceling plans to help out the Barbers. 

Well, to help out Mr. Barber.

Besides, Charlie pays incredibly generously and as you’ve gotten older, you’ve come to appreciate everything about him: his size, his demeanor, the way he’s such a dedicated father. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way you catch him staring at you since you’ve turned 18.

You know you shouldn’t have a crush on the man who pays you to watch his son. You should be interested in guys your own age but… there’s something about your 6’4” client whose hands appear as though they could wrap around your entire waist in one go. And you’ve tried to think of anyone else with your bedroom door locked, and your tiny fingers between your legs–like the captain of the football team, or the guy who sits behind you in Calc, but Mr. Barber always worms his way into your thoughts right as you’re about to come. 

Charlie plays the word ‘VEIN’ and you can’t help but clench at the sight of his own veins rolling over his knuckles as his hand flexes, the tendons straining when he reaches for his pencil to document his score. 

“Sweetheart?” he asks in a tone that implies he’d been trying to get your attention for a while. “Are you okay?” 

You can’t tear your eyes off of his hand as you apologize.

“It’s okay.” He smiles, his perfectly crooked teeth peeking out from behind his plush, pink lips.

When you look up at him, his eyes flick up to meet yours, his features laced with guilt as you catch him staring at your chest again. 

Then you play ‘WIDE.’ 

As you reach to place your tiles, you bend a little further than necessary, so more cleavage is revealed to his clearly hungry gaze. 

He inhales sharply. 

“We could uh… we could make this more fun,” he says. “If you want.”

“Okay,” you say immediately. “I want.”

Charlie swallows, looks you up and down, his gaze scorching as he takes in your tiny denim shorts. 

“Whoever plays the lower scoring word for the round… removes an article of clothing.” 

It’s always warm in his apartment, so it’s not like you have a ton of clothes on to begin with, but you nod anyway, and you’re not sure if he purposely plays a word that scores him lower than yours, but he slips his cardigan off his shoulders without prompting and you smirk. 

The following round, he’s delighted when ‘CLOSE’ earns him 24 points. 

You arch an eyebrow. 

“Shirt.” His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, eyes dark and focused. He watches you cross your arms at the hem of your shirt and he inhales deeply as you tug it up and over your head, revealing your lace bralette. It’s not completely see-through, but your nipples ache and are desperate for attention. They’re clearly visible as they strain beneath the fabric. 

The second round goes to you and you memorize everything about the way his fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. You’re disappointed to see he has an undershirt on. He chuckles when you pout. 

The next round goes to you as well and unfortunately, you have to waste this win on his shoes, but he throws you a bone and takes his socks off as well. 

The letters you pick up are less than stellar and when it’s your turn again, you mindlessly drag your ‘W’ Scrabble tile across the bare skin of your chest while you survey the board. 

“Fuck,” Charlie mutters under his breath as he shifts his weight and you’d noticed the bulge in his slacks earlier but it must be uncomfortable for him now because he rearranges his long legs for the third time in the past minute. 

Still, he plays a word that scores him 21 points and his eyes unabashedly shift from your chest to your shorts, and back up to your chest as he considers his options. 

“Bra.” You take a deep breath in and bite your lip as you tug the bralette up and slip your arms out of it, your breasts dropping out of the lace. 

His expression is caught somewhere between pain and hunger as he devours your bare tits with his eyes. He sees you squirm where you sit, attempting to grind your center on the floor but it’s not the right angle, and it’s not enough. So you play your turn and win the round. You want his undershirt off desperately but you take pity on him and request his pants, his erection now so painfully obvious; it must be throbbing. 

Unfortunately, your replacement letters contain no vowels and your options on the board are extremely limited, so when he scores higher than you on the next round, you both know what it means. 

His eyes are on your tiny fingers working the button of your shorts after you’ve stood up but your hands are shaking so violently, you struggle. 

“Let me, Princess,” he says, walking toward you on his knees. 

He’s so tall, he’s eye-level with your chest. He nudges your legs apart before hooking his fingers into the waistband on either side and freezes, looks up at you. You nod, head moving half an inch but it’s all the permission he needs before his mouth wraps around one hard nipple, and his hands tug at your tiny shorts. 

You whimper as he pulls them down your thighs, his mouth siphoning at your tit like he’s sucking a milkshake through a straw, and your panties get hooked with the denim. 

You don’t even realize it's happening until Charlie pulls off of you to say, “fuck it, I’m taking this, too,” and yanks your thong down as well, leaving you completely bare in front of him. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, free hand climbing up the inside of your thigh. “Fuck, you’re so perfect. So gorgeous. So grown up now, aren’t you?” You nod as his finger reaches the apex of your thighs. 

You shift your weight back and forth as he strokes your folds, teases the creases between your sex and thighs.

“Mister Barber,” you whimper.

“Is this okay, Princess?” he asks.

You nod. “More.”

He smirks, but applies a bit of pressure and slides that finger through your folds. You can’t help but moan as his thick digit glides effortlessly through your soaked flesh, over your entrance and up toward your clit.

“So goddamn wet. This pussy. Fuck, Princess.” 

He gathers some of your arousal onto his fingertip and brings it to your clit. Once slick, he circles the throbbing nub a few times, earning gasps and moans from you. Your hands flail, desperately seeking purchase on his head, his shoulders, anything. 

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He presses his finger to your entrance and slips it inside to the middle knuckle with ease. “Anyone ever touch you like this, Honey?” 

You nod slowly. 

“Yeah?” he asks. “Bet they didn’t make you feel like I can… will you let me, Sweetheart? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?” 

You nod. 

“Say yes, Baby Girl. I need you to tell me.” 

“Yes,” you say immediately, walls clenching around his finger. “Please, more.” 

He curls his finger forward toward your front wall and you gasp as pleasure shoots through your system. Then, he adds a second finger. 

He pumps them slowly, testing you, watching your face contort to see how much you can take. You groan when he withdraws his fingers, but you get a good look at them when he lifts them to your face. 

“Look how wet you are for me, Princess,” he says, painting your bottom lip with your own arousal. 

You allow both fingers into your mouth when he prods and you moan as you taste yourself, suck your juices off of him. 

Then, you grab his wrist, holding his hand in place so your tongue can make figure eights around and through his digits. 

Damn, you never knew that fingers could taste so good, that their weight on your tongue could feel like this, that sucking them deeper into your mouth could cause a surge of arousal to flood your already soaked center. 

“You like this, Baby Girl? You like sucking Daddy’s fingers?”

Your knees nearly give out at that. You’d always wanted to say it, to call someone that but… most boys your age hardly want to be called ‘Babe,’ let alone ‘Daddy.’

But it fits him so well, you decide, as this fantasy knocks you off balance. 

Charlie sits back on the floor and beckons you down with him using those fingers, until you’re straddling his lap and he lets you continue to suck as his opposite hand plays with your tits. He massages them, squeezes them, holds them in his hand and makes them bounce. You moan when he pinches a nipple and gasp when he twists it. 

The ache between your legs is unbearable. It doesn’t help that your legs are spread open so you can’t even rub your thighs together in the way you usually do when you see Mr. Barber. 

“Atta girl,” he coos, bringing your free hand to the bulge in his boxer-briefs. “You like sucking on Daddy’s fingers, huh?” 

You nod, let your eyes fall shut as you hollow out your cheeks. “Will you do that while you let me fuck you, Baby Girl?”

You whine as he pries his fingers from your reluctant mouth and he chuckles. 

“You’ll get them back, Princess. I could never deny you.” 

He pulls his own shirt off and you marvel at his chest—the hard muscles and sheer width of him. His soft tummy bulges slightly over the waistband of his boxer briefs and brings you a sense of comfort you can’t explain and didn’t even know you needed.

His broad shoulders flex under your gaze and he smirks. Charlie keeps you in his lap as he maneuvers his boxer-briefs down and grips your waist so tight, his long fingers nearly wrap entirely around you. 

“So beautiful,” he whispers, tilting his head up and capturing your lips with his. You moan as he squeezes you harder and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. 

You feel him, hard and thick beneath you. You want to see it, but your bodies are pressed too closely together. You feel too small in his embrace, too powerless to make any decisions for the two of you.

“Mister B-” you whisper-whine before stopping yourself and moaning, “Daddyyyyy…”

“Shh, Baby Girl, I promise I’ll take good care of you, okay?” he coos and you nod. “Trust me.” 

And you do. He lifts you slowly, until he’s lined up at your entrance. 

“Please tell me you’re on birth control.” 

“I am,” you breathe and he releases a sigh of relief as he lowers you onto him slowly. “Ahh,” you gasp as he stretches you out, pressing kisses to your chest and throat to distract you from any discomfort. 

“Sweetheart, you’re—“

He doesn’t finish his train of thought. Just lifts you up off of him and you groan as he falls out. 

“Daddy,” you whine as he sets you down on the scrabble board and pushes you back.

Charlie hovers over you and kisses you while one of his massive hands explores the curves of your body. You feel so vulnerable, spread open on his living room floor like this. 

Kissing his way down your body, he pays extra attention to your breasts—sucking, kissing, licking at your nipples until they’re soaked and pointed. 

“Daddy!”

Continuing south, Charlie positions your legs, spreads them the way he wants them and licks a stripe up your cunt experimentally and without warning. 

“Yes, Princess?” he asks coyly. His hand appears between your legs. 

Your back arches involuntarily as he licks your clit, and explores your folds with his tongue. Scrabble tiles dig into your back as you squirm and Charlie reaches up to pin you with a forearm across your hips. 

You nearly scream his name as his tongue works you and he covers your mouth with a massive hand. 

“Kid’s asleep,” he reminds you, but you hardly hear him when you grab his wrist and take two of his fingers into your mouth. 

As you suck them, he sucks on your clit, his siphons matching your pace until you’re moaning, lips vibrating against his knuckles as your climax builds.

No one’s ever done this for you before. Sure, you’d made yourself come, but the boys you’d fooled around with probably couldn’t even point to your clit, let alone know how to tease it and suck at it. 

Back arching, heart pounding, Scrabble tiles jabbing, you thrash across the floor and board as your orgasm wreaks havoc through your system, shakes you to your core. 

“Good girl,” he praises, lifting his head off of you. He wipes his soaked mouth and chin on your inner thigh, your hip bone, your ribs, like a dog rubbing its scent, marking its territory. 

“You came so well for me, Baby Girl. So good, so fucking good.” 

Charlie wraps one of your pliant legs around his waist and you do everything in your power to tighten your muscles and hold it there for him while he enters you for a second time, filling you completely, but this time, it’s so much better. 

“Fuck, oh my god, I-” 

“Shh,” he tells you again, covering your mouth and refusing to allow you to pull it away. He buries his head in the crook of your neck as he thrusts hard and fast into you, the Scrabble tiles nearly cutting your back open. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight still. Fuck, such a perfect pussy. Can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you,” he babbles as his hips snap against yours. 

The friction of his thick cock rubbing mercilessly against your stretched walls renders you unable to think, let alone speak. Whiney babbles escape from between your lips as your body rocks back and forth with the force of his thrusts, your tits jiggling, and legs hardly able to remain locked around his waist.

Your back can only lift so much with his weight over you but as he grinds into you, a second orgasm rakes through your system, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as his thrusts grow sloppy and he spills into you, hitting you hard and deep as he comes. His hand slides off your mouth and he plants it on the floor to lift himself off of you. 

“Fuck,” he breathes looking down at your naked body. “That was perfect, Baby Girl. You’re amazing.” He kisses your neck. “You were so good for me.” 

You accept his lips when he leans up to kiss you. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, nudging your nose with his. 

“Yeah, I just…” you maneuver your hand behind your back and pluck a Scrabble piece jabbing your shoulder blade. “Maybe round two can be in your bed?” 

“Round two?” Charlie asks with an eyebrow arched. 

“Of Scrabble. After all, we didn’t get to finish our first game,” you tease with a coy smile before dropping your voice, looking up at him through your lashes and whispering, “Daddy.”

Charlie growls before whisking you away to his bed. 

Your clothes somehow make it to the room, but the disheveled Scrabble board remains in the middle of the living room floor.

[wri0thesley]

you cannot tell me itto doesnt have the biggest size kink in teyvat - he’s already taller than like, a majority of the visible population so far and it doesnt help i hc him to be even taller than his in-game model depicts - like those oni genes making him a bare minimum of 6’5 (~195cm) if not even more. and he’s just so. Big and bulky - his model even agreeing with his extra defined abs and muscles even through his (albeit somewhat minimal compared to the other genshin men) clothes. he’d just engulf you in the best way possible - be it to fuck your brains out and watch the bulge in your stomach disappear and reappear or just for the best bear hugs and cuddles. please i need him

- might as well call me the desperate itto wanter anon at this point - he’s taking over my entire mind T-T

cw; not sfw, minors dni. size kink, mating press, fingering, tummy bulge, ‘pussy job’, pet names (babe, pretty baby,), itto has a longer-than-average monster tongue and also a monster dick (as it should be, not sfw link for what i always imagine him with). afab reader, gn pronouns! 

(send me a genshin kink thought/thirst for elucidation and drabbles)

Itto’s breath is panting hot against your ear. Big hands are curled around your thighs, almost bending you in half, your knees nearly up around your ears - and despite that, the way that he’s holding you and keeping you pinned beneath him seems effortless. 

The panting is not from the exertion of having you in this position - the panting is, instead, from the way you feel as his thick, stiff cock slides in between the messy slick that leaks and drips from your sex. 

“Babe,” Itto is panting, mumbling, practically whimpering against your ear. “Babe, s’not gonna fit.” The muscles in your thighs twitch and clench as the tip of his cock nudges your clit again from the way he keeps rutting his hips against you - sliding his cock between your wet folds without actually managing to penetrate inside of you, where you desperately want him to be. He whines out in desperate despair; “You’re too small. S’gonna break you in half--”

It would be impossible to not feel small beneath Itto. His broad shoulders block out any light that might filter through into the bedroom from the window; his hands taking up a great swathe of your bare thigh, the expanse of his own chest glistening with sweat. The muscled planes of his abdomen, the thick, defined line of his thighs--

Taking one of his fingers is already a stretch for you. One that has you squirming beneath him; looking up at him with your eyes blown wide and your lips swollen from biting. You’d taken two of them tonight, as Itto made you come apart with nothing but the curl of his knuckles and the drag of his thumb along your clit - but that hadn’t been enough. 

“I need your cock,” you’d told him, even with the damp proof of your own gushing release shimmering on his fingertips. The sight of his long - just slightly too long, in a way that makes your insides clench - tongue licking up that same wetness and clearly revelling in it had done little to ease your desire. You hadn’t cared if your tone had leant to petulance as you’d insisted; “Itto! Want you inside of me. I want you to stretch me out more . . .”

Arataki Itto is not good at saying ‘no’ to you. Despite his position of the leader of a gang, despite the loud exclamation of his horns saying he is something other than human, despite the sheer breadth of him . . . you have him wrapped around your little finger. And looking up at him like that and earnestly begging him to ruin you when his cock had been begging to be sheathed inside of you since the first time you’d kissed him . . . any attempts at retaining the self-control he’d had for fear of hurting you with it had been pushed to the wayside, as the inhuman part of his brain had looked down at you and thought ‘mine, mine, mine’.

That inhuman look had been in his eye as he’d wrestled you into position; as he’d manoeuvred you like a ragdoll until you felt tiny and utterly claimed in his grip. Itto’s red-gold eyes stare down at you with something between hunger and adoration painting them, as he slurs out (his cock not ceasing rubbing up and down the lips of your sex);

“You’re so much smaller’n me . . . Really could break you, huh?”

“I can take it!” You whine up to him. You rock back on your rear as best you can, your elbows keeping you propped up on the bed, and the position manages to stretch you just a little bit wider - at the cost of making you even more helpless to do anything but stay in the position that Itto has man-handled you into. His eyes drag down your body, centring firmly on your sex. 

“Shit. . .” He sighs, quietly. “Can’t-- can’t not put it in ya, seein’ as you want it so bad . . . So wet. You’ve made a messa me already, pretty baby--” 

A few more helpless strokes of his cock between your folds, and the slightly spade-shaped tip of him is gently nudging at your opening. Your mouth drops open as you gasp - Itto gently, gently, gently pushing himself inside of you. The way the tip of his cock widens makes your thighs jump again, your stomach tight - and your cunt clench around what little of him is already inside of you. Itto whines.

“Fuck, babe, you’re squeezin’ me--”

“Keep going,” You breathe out at him in return, feeling tears spring to your eyes. “I-- at least get the tip in, Itto, please--”

“Ah--hnn. Can’t say no t’my pretty baby when they ask like that, can I-- hold on, yeah?” 

He shifts slightly, and you realise he’s reared up fully onto the balls of his feet, effectively keeping you completely pinned beneath him in a mating press, even with barely an inch of his cock inside of you. Your fingers twist into Itto’s rumpled sheets as slowly, inexorably slowly, he sinks the entire head of his cock inside of you. Sweat is dripping down his forehead, his eyes glittering dangerously - and he is every inch an oni, like this, bearing down upon you.

And you cannot help but love feeling like his prey. 

“So big,” you tell him, in a whining little moan. “I can take more, I promise. Wanna feel all of you.”

“I-I’ll go slow,” Itto manages, choking through the waves of desire that are roiling through his entire being. “I wanna feel alla you too.”

Itto is true to his word, though every second that lasts feels like it lasts a lifetime. The sensation of him sinking inside of you, inch by slow, torturous inch, makes you feel fuller than you’ve ever been; the ridges and bumps of his cock rubbing against your inner walls in a way at once pleasurable and mind-numbing. Your mouth is open; you think you might be drooling. Certainly, the over-stimulatedf tears that have been threatening to fall for what seems like hours have made shiny trails on your cheeks. 

He’s so big, simply getting wider and wider as he fucks further into you. You think you might be split apart - you think that you might come just from the sensation of being so utterly taken, as your heart pounds so loudly it echoes in your ear. 

Time stands still, slow like molasses - nothing in your mind but the complete stupification of being stretched to your limits and then some. And then Itto groans out your name like a prayer and says, over-awed;

“I fitted.”

And then, as his eyes once more travel over you, his mouth drops open and you see the glint of his fangs.

“Babe. Your tummy.”

You look down to see that Itto has finally bottomed out inside of you; the heaviness of his full balls pushing against your opening. But, more pressing than that is the sight of how your stomach has distended; a noticeable bulge, right where all of Itto’s cock is currently nestled inside of you. 

“I--I can feel you there,” you breathe out - and Itto urges you to hook one of your knees over his shoulder so that his hand is free to press gently on said bulge. As you feel that pressure, his thick fingers and hot palm against it, your eyelids flutter and roll back into your head, pleasure zapping through your synapses. 

“I can feel it too,” he says. “I . . . I gotta move, babe. If I don’t fuck you ‘m gonna just . . . ‘m gonna die right here, I need you so bad, gonna be careful I promise--”

You look up into his eyes; clouded with a haze of lust. You feel so small underneath him; so small even with him inside of you, stretched out around him, claimed and loved and wanted and taken. 

“Itto,” you say. You hold his gaze, feeling your lips curve into a smile. “D-don’t. Don’t hold back.”

[katsukikitten]

Clip That - Katsuki's Route

Chapter One - Marlboro Red

Another loud thump pulls Bakugou from his sleep with a deep inhale and a long, exasperated growl. He had finally fallen asleep and with his phone reading eight am he'd only gotten three hours.

Which was never enough for the hot headed man, needing upwards of eight to be a decent human being. All his life Bakugou was teased for going to bed early and still being slow to rise but no one realized how long it took him to fall asleep. How hard the insomnia hit as his mind replayed memories in his head to analyze like clear film on what he could have done better.

So he was about to make this everybody's problem.

He doesn't understand why the fuck there is so much noise happening so early. Normally he and Kirishima would be up and at the gym while Kaminari slept until eleven or noon, depending on when Kirishima woke him up. So why the hell could Katsuki hear Pikachu's laugh echoing around the house.

He digs his heel into his eye, doing nothing for the deep bags under deadly bromine. Snarling his lip as he thinks a cigarette and maybe a coffee sound godly right now. Slapping on some deodorant, a clean shirt and boxers before sliding into his black jeans. Patting at his hoodie from last night, greedily grabbing for the red and white cardboard box. Flipping up the top and when he finds nothing but flecks of tobacco and not a single rolled stick he crushes it with a hiss. Tearing his room apart in search of that stupid fruity vape Denks had gotten him hooked on, hoping that at least a hit of that nicotine would placate him until he could get the kind that clotted his lungs much more obviously.

Despite his frantic searching, Bakugou really could quit any time he wanted. His nationals and championship trophies in MMA said as much when he had quit cold turkey for two years. Kirishima convinced Bakugou to train with him at 16 and the pair spent the better part of their youth fenced in a cage, climbing to the top quickly. Ripe age of 18 and Bakugou had been heavily decorated, it wasn't until he became a world champ at the cusp of his 20th birthday that he was satisfied. When the reporters asked why he was retiring at such a young age, the ash blonde with a split lip, the scar still visible today, gave a wolfish grin.

"I just want a fuckin cigarette."

And God damn it he was going to have one now. Giving up on his vape he leaves his room, the one across from his, the door open and a few pink storage boxes stacked up. Bakugou snarls his lip, did Denki finally allow his chat to decorate one of the two guest rooms like he said?

It didn't matter what that dumb ass friend of his did, it was Denki's house. Bakugou knew how hard Kaminari worked at being a successful streamer. Dominating casual and competitive games but never going on to join an esports team because to Kaminari, talking to chat was everything. Bakugou didn't get it but he never questioned it either, to each their fuckin own.

He just remembers the electric blonde asking if they wanted to live with him, since Kirishima, although still fighting, was heading more in the direction of health and training streams. And Bakugou was and always will be Kirishima's plus one. Not that Kaminari didn't want Bakugou here, he was excited, even if the ash blonde didn't know what he wanted to conquer next Denki thought he smelled opportunity. The professional steamer knowing all he had to do was give Bakugou a little nudge in the form of a few well placed videos and make him build a PC.

Although Bakugou will never admit how well Kaminari played him, at least never aloud.

Bakugou's bedroom is to the left of the stairs, across from the upstairs guest bedroom, having chosen this room because it was furthest from those two block heads across the balcony and he has his own bathroom. Well unless their were guests over.

Going down the curved steps with ease but stopping halfway when he sees Denki, Kirishima and you standing in the foyer.

You smile widely at the men, giving them your gratitude although Bakugou can tell that you're a little uncomfortable. Not because you were going to be living in a house full of men but most likely from your new and overly helpful roommates. The men holding pink and black bags while you were only allowed to carry some ugly cat stuffed animal that you could just fit your arms around.

"Thanks guys, really but I promise I'm not fragile."

"Oh we know." Kirishima beams, holding your fifty pound duffle filled with your gaming equipment, "It's rude not to help."

"Besides this is nothing to Eiji, you saw how he took that mattress up by himself!" Denki claps Kirishima on his sculpted back harshly but the man doesn't even flinch. He just puffs his chest out in pride, long red hair with his dark roots showing falls into his face. You give another polite although clipped smile. They were really too kind and you were entirely grateful the only issue was you just had an incurable case of hyper independence so any time you received any sort of help, it made your skin crawl.

Before you can try to pry at least one bag from the men turned pack mule a dark voice cuts through the air.

"Fuck is she doin here?"

Kaminari visibly stiffens as Kirishima pouts.

"Come on man, don't be like that. We agreed to have another gamer roommate. She plays a lot of casual games!" Kaminari is excited again by the end of his sentence, the possibilities and your potential made him feel as if electricity was dancing in his veins.

"Yea when I agreed to that shit I thought it was gonna be Zero from Deku's team." Bakugou growls, really wishing he had a smoke to place between his lips.

"That's your team too ya know." Kirishima adds and Bakugou scoffs.

"I didn't agree to some discordkitten ." He spits your username like venom, the disgust worming its way under your skin and further poisoning your heart. Your lip snarls, crossing your arms since he obviously knew you, or at least of you if he knew your twitch tag.

"Ya know I wouldn't expect someone as boring as you to get it." You glare up at him, a cruel smile on your lips, "What's it like to be so one dimensional, Katsuki? I just can't even imagine how dull you truly are or maybe the word I'm looking for is daft? Since you don't even get a joke that's so simple to understand."

"Don't fuckin use my first name." He snarls, bromine eyes burning into your skin.

"I'm just making it clear that it's you I'm speaking to. Ya know since you have a little trouble with nuance."

"At least I don't have to be a fake bitch for views. Ya act all cute when you're the furthest thing from it." Bakugou's eyes dull as he glares, exhaustion and the gnawing hunger for nicotine pulling at his limbs, forcing him down the stairs.

"Guys guys!" Denki stands between the two of you, literally. Making gestures with his hands as he starts to sweat, "Come on, Katsuki, be civil."

"Suck my dick." He says, bumping his shoulder against Denki and then Kirishima, who gives a stern glare. He grabs his keys and makes his way towards his black coupe, no doubt needing to drive now instead of walking to the closest gas station.

"Ah I know he's an asshole but underneath all that he's a really nice guy. You just gotta get to know him." Kirishima reassures you and you try to keep the heat out of your gaze when you look up at him. He's smiling so wide his eyes are closed and you're wondering just how the fuck two of the kindest, most respectable guys ended up housing with a man so toxic he got banned from gaming platforms almost weekly, not that that ever stopped him.

"Let's set your things down and we'll give you a tour and the house rules." Denki climbs up the stairs two at a time and Kirishima follows only after you. Climbing the steps in your dark leggings and oversized black cardigan you wore for comfort. You were already a bit nervous, knowing people would think you were using Kaminari, stringing him along to better propel your own success. When really all you wanted to do was enjoy what you did for a living.

Denki was the one who reached out to you, having accidently found your page. Finding himself unable to click away as if he felt he was gaming with an old friend he hadn't seen in a while. String lights gave the shot of you a warm and cozy glow. Legs tucked under you as you sat on your floor on a faux sheepskin in an Eevee onesie, all the eeveelutions sitting dutifully at your side as they supervised your game play.

Curiosity always second nature to Denki, he wonders if Eevee was your favorite and why you liked her so much. He donates $10.00 just to find out and to this day he still hasn't forgotten how your face lit up. How your smile made one creep onto his own face, voice laced with excitement as you answers.

"Gengar and Eevee are my favorites. I love Eevee so much because she can be whatever she wants to be! She just has to trust herself!"

After that he watched your entire four hour stream before he dms you to chat. Some long discord call, half a year of friendship and a three hour flight later you find yourself standing in the middle of your new bedroom. It felt so surreal, like a dream and well it was a dream to live each day as you pleased. Playing games and chatting with people without much worry or care in the world.

A dream of stability you never allowed yourself to have. At least not more than a blip in your consciousness before you passed out just to rise early for a job you loathed.

Not to mention the generosity Denki had, giving you the first three months free until you got on your feet. You refused the offer time and time again until he finally said you'd take his offer and could pay him back by doing the house budget.

Only then did you finally agree.

"We can get paint tonight before you're all set up, whatever color you want." Denki smiles, gently setting your stuff down onto the bed that sat in the middle of the room on a plain platform frame, "Kirishima and I are the fastest painters in the west."

"But our lines aren't as clean." Kirishima laughs as you look around the room.

Denki makes quick work of showing you upstairs. Your room was, unfortunately, across the hall from Bakugou's, next to the ash blonde's room the two of you forced to share a decent sized bathroom that gave some semblance of separation as the door only opened up to the hall. Unlike on the other end of the house where Denki and Kirishima's bedrooms were connected by a jack and jill bathroom. The largest room just in front of the winding stairs is the laundry and storage room that Kirishima turned into a partial home gym.

He leads you back into the foyer, when facing the stairs to your left was supposed to be the living room that Denki turned full arcade. So many pinball machines and arcade boxes that one or two made their way into the foyer. Almost blocking the half bath and the view into the family room.

Hell, he even had an air hockey table in the center of his homemade arcade. To your right was the dining room, simple enough but it was obvious it was mostly unused as he stepped into the nook of the kitchen. Sizable round table that could seat six sat just before the long island with a waterfall countertop. A few barstools under the edge of it. Large pantry and door to the garage to your right and to your left you could see into the family room. It wasn't small by any means. Holding a huge sectional couch, giant TV mounted on the wall and with a door that leads to the gorgeous patio and pool.

Holy shit this man was fuckin loaded

It's all you can think as he guides your through the house, truly a lap in luxury. And although it was essentially a frat house, it was kept clean and well maintained. Few decorations aside from neon lights in the shape of Denki's waifus.

"Oh and this is the master bedroom. I wanted it to be fair so I leave this for guests." Denki grabs the back of his neck, it was true. He did want the home to feel fair and that he wasn't some ass hole land lord.

But he also couldn't admit to himself that he didn't deserve such a nice room, at least not yet.

It was large enough to fit a king sized bed and still have a small seating area. The en suite was the kind you dreamed about. Huge soaking tub, large shower and a walk in closet bigger than your old bedroom across the country.

"Your house really is lovely." You comment, marveling over the family room again. The view to the pool and mountain side is your favorite thing so far.

"Well it's your house now too! So make yourself at home. Oh just some quick things." He hands you the house rules to go over yourself later while he chats, "Bakugou does the cooking so be sure to tell him what you like to eat. He makes a big list that I go grocery shopping for with the supervision of Kirishima, maybe you could tag along this weekend so you can get some snacks. Groceries and necessities come out of the house account so go nuts. And trying to get your groceries on your own is a no."

He gives you a stern look at least stern for Denki before rattling on about a few important rules.

"Any questions?"

"No, honestly I'm just glad to be here." You admit and both of them smile wide as they say in unison.

"Welcome home!"

[itsyourstarboy]

Streamer!Honey Headcanons Pt.2

First Part Next Part

This one is a bit less headcanons and more of just a little compilation of times Guy has interrupted their streaming, and Chat being Honey's chaotic posse

Guy tries his best. He really does.

But when it's his day off, and Honey is streaming, he gets needy. This boy needs attention and love, and Honey leaving him all alone to play games with strangers is just too cruel. How could they just abandon him like this?

Y'know how sometimes when you're bored you'll randomly go to the fridge to look for something to eat even though you're not hungry? That's Guy. But with the door that leads to the room Honey is streaming in.

He'll be scrolling through social media and then boom suddenly he's standing outside the door.

It's like when you shut your pet out of the bathroom when they try to follow you in.

So without further ado, here are the times Guy has interrupted Honey, and made their chat go wild.

—

It started small. Guy would stay in the living room, and just blow up their phone with texts, begging for them to come out and just give him one little kiss to hold him over.

Of course they eventually told him to knock it off before they put their phone on silent

Then he was sitting outside the door and sliding notes under. Bonus if the camera is set up in a way that can sort of see the bottom of the door, so Chat is the first to notice and point it out to Honey.

They look over at the chat to see it blowing up like:

👀👀👀👀👀

Bae, ur dog need u 😅🤣

Is that their roommate??

Tf is going on

AYO 😂😂😂😂

can u play minecraft

NOT THEIR ROOMIE PASSING NOTES IN CLASS ✋😭😭

LMFAO I WANT TO SEE WHAT IT SAYS

SHOW US 🥺🥺

🤨 hey what the dog doin 🧐

Chat knows he's a puppy at this point

They turn around to see the little pile of notes scattered there; next to Guy's fingers which he is wiggling around under the door.

"Goddamnit, Guy-!" They shout, but there's clearly no venom in their words. A laugh had slipped out before they could stop it, and they crouched by the door.

The notes were all cute little things like,

"I ♡ u"

"come gimme kiss :("

"want smooch -3-"

"end the stream I need you >:("

So let's say from the angle the camera is set up, the stream can see about half of Honey as they're crouched by the door. They reach up to the handle and crack open the door.

Chat can't see Guy, Honey is blocking him from view.

They can't be heard speaking, but when Guy laughs, everyone in chat fucking melts because baby boy has the sweetest fucking laugh in the world holy shit

Arms can be seen wrapping around Honey, though their arms stay by their side, and it last for about 3 seconds before Honey places their hand flat on Guy's face and shoves him away (affectionately) while also calling him a dumbass.

They shut the door and return to their stream, not very happy that Chat saw that.

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

ITS HAPPENING

SPILL THE TEA SIS UNTIL DAWN CAN WAIT

What did I miss??

HOOOOLY SHIT

*pog*

NO WAY

*pog*

*pog*

*pog*

★ someone donated $3 ★

Okay bitch, u got 5 seconds to explain urself 🔫🔫🔫

Anyway, they beat Guy's ass later that night but in the good if ykwim ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

—

Honey's little fan base is having a lot of fun theorizing their relationship with their faceless (yet adorable) roommate.

Chat loves bringing him up to get Honey talking about him. The way their eyes go soft are one of the top reasons most of their fans think they're dating (which they're not wrong, but Honey has yet to confirm nor deny)

Sometimes Honey will even bring Guy up on their own, but it's always the most random ass shit.

They were doing a chill stream, one where they just kinda played a slow game (like animal crossing or Stardew valley) and wouldn't really talk much, with lofi music in the background.

Not as many people watch those streams, but it's okay. Honey likes to play relaxing games from time to time, and they only really can if they're streaming it.

Off the cuff they just go, "Guy told me he wanted to start an Only Fans."

They started laughing after they realized they said it, even more when chat went from being really slow with only a few donos here and there to BLOWING UP

Honey explained that Guy was, in fact, not actually going to start an Only Fans.

They had told him that he was gaining popularity among their fan base and Guy had made the comment as a joke.

However the stream got more rowdy as more people joined only to find the current topic of conversation being whether or not Honey's faceless roommate should start an Only Fans.

Most people were like "yes, please" but Honey was (suspiciously) quick to tell them that it wasn't going to happen.

It only took about 20 minutes for the stream to go back to how it was, calm and slow.

Until Honey, once again, made a random ass comment along the lines of, "what if me and Guy started an only fans together?"

And then it was round two.

Honey loves fucking with their chat.

—

Guy started getting bolder as Honey living with him became the new normal. He was always finding new ways to invade their stream while keeping his face hidden.

He started watching their streams and eventually decided he wanted to see them blush

★ someone donated $1 ★

HoneysHeaven: guess who ;)))

They stared at the message for almost a minute before placing their head in their hands and going "Jesus fucking Christ"

Chat never caught on to this one until much later

Like, a few months of this "HoneysHeaven" donating just one dollar and saying things that seemed to throw the streamer off their rocker.

°•°•°•°•°•°

★ someone donated $1 ★

HoneysHeaven: you look so cute today ^^

"Shut up."

*chat proceeds to get angry that Honey did not accept the compliment and aggressively assures them that they are very cute*

°•°•°•°•°•°

★ someone donated $1 ★

HoneysHeaven: who is Sebastian and why are you flirting with him :(

Honey smirked, "he's a video game character."

HoneysHeaven: but why are you flirting with him :(

Gotta step up ur game HH

Bro is simping HARD

Poor thing

★ someone donated $1 ★

HoneysHeaven: your fans are being mean to me :((

"hey, you kids play nice."

°•°•°•°•°•°

"I don't trust this ratty ass cat-"

★ someone donated $1 ★

HoneysHeaven: can you come show me how to run the dishwasher pls (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠` ; )

"Guy, I swear to god, I've shown you how to run it a hundred times already!"

HoneysHeaven: I'm sorryyy (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

WAIT THATS GUY!?!?!?!?

OMG

GUY!??!?

HOLY FUC-

WEVE BEEN LOVINGLY BULLYING OUR BOY

SHAME ON ALL OF YOU

I DIDNT DO NOTHING

GUY I LOVE YOUUU

what the heck just happened??

Honey leaves the room to show Guy how to use the dishwasher for the upteenth time, and it certainly won't be the last.

Guy snuck in a few kisses there, being incognito in chat was fun while it lasted

—

If we circle back to our lovely theorists within Honey's fan base, we will see that they have been having a field day.

People are 98% sure that there is/was something romantic going on between these two. It's very obvious to see how flirty Guy is, and Honey has their moments.

Most think Guy has an unrequited crush on Honey, while some think it's reciprocated but not acted upon.

Very few think they're actually dating simply because of the way Honey acts. It seems like they're not interested in anything romantic.

Another small few think they're just good friends, and they're the kind of people that get all pressed about "why can't two people with a good relationship just be friends anymore," and blah blah blah.

One time Honey was having fun messing with their chat, just kind of sitting back and watching as they discussed amongst each other who Guy was to Honey.

They had fun dangling their love life in front of their fans like bait, especially because it made them feel all warm inside when people pointed out how painfully obvious it was that Guy was head over heels for them.

Did you put a ring on it yet? Cause if you don't, I will <.<

PFFT-

"hey, hey, calm down. He's taken."

BY WHO???

TAKEN!?

NOOOOOOO MY HOPES AND DREAMS

Honey laughs, "none of you even know what he looks like."

All the good men are taken >:(

Hold on now, it's 20XX, it's what's on the inside that counts

Mama always told me not to judge a book by its cover

ARE YOU TAKEN THO???

My mama also said not to judge a book by its cover, and lucky for me, I can't read 🥰🥰 Hand him over 🔪 /lh /j

WOAH WOAH WOAH

I simp for the invisible man from Hotel Transylvania, my powers are beyond your understanding

"All of you say that, but for all you know, he could look like a toe."

LMAO

Yummy

Jokes on you I'm into that shit

*people with foot fetishes have entered the chat*

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

OH GOD OH FUCK

Cronch

"okay, I regret being born. I think that's enough internet for today."

—

Drama doesn't usually break out, but when it does Honey still finds ways to have fun with it.

"no, I did not show Guy how to run the dishwasher like in that scene from Ghost... Tf?"

Damn that would've been hot tho

DAMMIT Boo you missed your chance to seduce him 😩😩

I'm gonna draw that later 👀

What scene from ghost? What's ghost?

OOOH WE DOIN GUY X [HONEY] FANART NOW ??? 👀👀👀

Oh God, guys, please don't make this weird

Babydoll, we can get you some flirting lessons if you want 😜

Ah yeah just gotta do the lip bite and the chin rub 😉😉 say some pickup line and he's all yours

LMAO won't be too hard he already down BAD

"how it do baby gorilla" *bites lip*

OH GOOD LORD

LMAOOO YOU GOTTA USE THAT ONE

They're just friends, will you all chill out??

Honey, laughing, "who said we were just friends?"

HEY

PUMP THE BREAKS PUMP THE BREAKS WHAT THE FLUFF

STOP MESSING WITH US YOU ASSHOLE /affectionate

Ayo 🤨🤨🤨

EXPLAIN URSELF BABE 😡😡😡

Hiiii I love you and your content 🥰🥰💕

★ someone donated $10 ★

I will sell you my soul please tell us what that means

"does it have to mean anything?"

AAAAAAAAAAAA

You... You are evil 😑

DAMMIT

FUCK

My therapist is going to hear about you.

Some people want world peace, but [Honey]... [Honey] just wants to watch the world burn.

°•°•°•°•°•°

"y'know... Guy has brought it to my attention that some of you have been drawing fanart of us. Which is sweet, but it's also weird because none of you know what he looks like..."

Oh shit we're in trouble

How are people drawing him when they don't know what he looks like??

GUYS WE'RE GONNA GET GROUNDED

OH NOOO

THEIR GONNA TAKE OUR FEMUR PRIVILEGES

NOT MY FEMURS I JUST GOT THOSE BACK

"Now, I'm not saying that it's okay to ship real life people. Because it's not. It makes most people uncomfortable."

Now I'm uncomfortable we don't usually get serious talks

I'm deadass actually kinda scared rn

SAMEE

Yeah same here I think I peed a little

Same

What

Wait you peed?

"I mean, I don't really mind it. The only weird thing is that some of you are drawing Guy without know what he looks like so it doesn't at all look like Guy," Honey laughs, "the fanfiction is pretty weird though, maybe cut it out with that stuff."

🫡🫡🫡

YES BOSS

YOU HEARD THE CAPTAIN BOYS, FIRE THE NUKES

What is wrong with everyone here

DESTROY THE EVIDENCE

Wattpad is going down 😈😈

★ someone donated $5 ★

So you're okay with the fanart? Is Guy okay with it too?

"yeah, I'm chill with it. Guy is too, he thinks it's cute."

Awwwww 🥺🥺🥺

I fall in love with a faceless man I don't know even more everyday

HE THINKS ITS CUTE!!??? THAT IS SO WHOLESOME OMG

HES SHIPPING HIMSELF WITH YOU FR

I stg if you don't date him-

Give him a kiss from all of us 😘

YES

KISS HIM AS A GIFT FROM US

JUST A LITTLE PECK ON THE CHEEK

DO IT DO IT

This isn't too much right?

KITH

"maybe I will kiss him, but it hardly seems fair to do just one for the thousands of you."

😳

STOP

I'm going to die

YOU NEED TO CHILL YOU GREMLIN

IM GOING TO FIGHT YOU ONE OF THESE DAYS when is the next con?

This is killing me

★ someone donated $1 ★

HoneysHeaven: woah does this mean I'm gonna get thousands of kisses <.<

"HEY-!"

OH SHIT

BABY YOU JUST GOT CAUGHT IN 4K

I am so painfully single ouch

ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION

HoneysHeaven: so can I come claim those kisses now, or...?

AINT NO WAY

OH MY GAHD

"no."

NO!?!?

NO????

BITCH TF YOU MEAN

YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT

HoneysHeaven: :(

NOOOOOO

YOU MADE HIM SAD

"oh my god- just- ugh," Honey hides their face away from the camera, clearly flustered, "just go away."

—

Yeah, their fan base is 99% sure they're dating.

(I'm gonna have to cut this off here, I'm real tired but I had a lot of fun writing this. The chaotic chat clearly got away from me a few times lol. I will do a part 3, because I definitely still have more 😉)

[sagecodex]

When I'm putting together a project and I need to fill it with content that doesn't exist yet, I usually turn to the tried and true Lorem Ipsum generator. But sometimes, I want to have a little fun with my projects.

So here's a list of 60+ text generators (in alphabetical order) to zhuzh up your projects. Just don't be like me and forget to replace them with something appropriate when you share them with the world (a mistake I will likely continue to make).

Note: the following blocks of text are all pre-generated. Some of them may be offensive, though I am by no means endorsing any of them! They're just examples of of what these tools generate and I’m too lazy to edit.

Lorem Ipsum

Generates the standard lorem ipsum text.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur.

90s Ipsum

Generates a string of 90s text and -ism’s.

Charlotte hornets flip flops braveheart as I lay me down to sleep umbro shorts aviators, this is your brain on drugs speed tlc schindler’s list hot pink chronic. Extreme sports dennis rodman toy story choker necklace. Body piercings armageddon personalized mixtapes toyota supra, spiked hair I've fallen and I can't get up bowl cut dallas cowboys catsuit. Airwalk khaki roseanne leopard print instant messaging royal stewart tartan.

Bacon Ipsum

Generates a block of bacon and meat text.

Bacon ipsum dolor amet biltong rump bresaola kielbasa, pancetta shank shoulder turkey kevin meatloaf cow ground round. Jerky corned beef sausage, filet mignon chislic strip steak capicola porchetta shoulder. Biltong turkey brisket landjaeger, cupim pancetta ham hock pastrami short loin.

Baseball Ipsum

Generates baseball-themed text.

Runs leather fielder's choice center fielder slide perfect game glove leather grounder. Batter's box knuckleball club wild pitch butcher boy cellar win 4-6-3. Batting average petey relief pitcher wrigley hack, scorecard right fielder away. Cardinals bush league no decision home curve earned run flyout.

Bavaria Ipsum

GeneratesBavarian-themed text in Dutch.

Bavaria ipsum dolor sit amet Foidweg Biakriagal, guad o’ha Auffisteign? Ned Servas ognudelt Radi Charivari Griasnoggalsubbm kimmt auf gehds beim Schichtl Zidern. Deandlgwand oamoi und glei wirds no fui lustiga, de Sonn Engelgwand Maßkruag.

Beer Lorem Ipsum

Generates beer text that could almost be a real blog post.

The Mango Beer panics, and another cantankerous Coors goes to sleep; however, an Ellis Island IPA brainwashes a foreign wanker. Furthermore, a burly customer laughs out loud, and a Kashmir IPA of a Home brew avoids contact with an obsequious stein. A surly Pilsner often competes with a chain saw.

Birolipsum

Generates quotes from the President of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro (or Biroliro for those intimate). In Portuguese.

Marcos Valério alega que o corrupto presidiário Lula é um dos mandantes do assassinato de Celso Daniel! Surpreso? Não! Pela memória do coronel Brilhante Ustra, o pavor de Dilma Rousseff. Eu estou lutando contra um sistema, contra o establishment. Paulo fala: “venda suas capas e compre espadas".

Bluth Ipsum

Generates quotes from the TV show Arrested Development.

I'll be in the hospital bar. You know there isn't a hospital bar, Mother. Well, this is why people hate hospitals. They want to break his legs. It's a good thing he's already got that little scooter. A flower in my garden, a mystery in my panties.

Bob Ross Lipsum

Generates quotes from Bob Ross.

You can create beautiful things - but you have to see them in your mind first. If you don't think every day is a good day - try missing a few. You'll see. All you need to paint is a few tools, a little instruction, and a vision in your mind. And I will hypnotize that just a little bit. We spend so much of our life looking - but never seeing. The little tiny Tim easels will let you down.

Bro Ipsum

Generates “bro culture” text.

Bro ipsum dolor sit amet bunny slope free ride laps, liftie park beater frozen chicken heads Whistler skid lid huck ollie taco mitt. Nose bonk hardtail chain ring white room taco euro spin backside presta rigid giblets. Stunt free ride taco glove deck. White room death cookies park, tele giblets grab dope 360 corn table top spread eagle nose beater snake bite.

Busey Ipsum

Generates quotes from Gary Busey.

Go with the feeling of the nature. Take it easy. Know why you're here. And remember to balance your internal energy with the environment.Sometimes horses cough and fart at the same time, so stay out of the range of its butt muscle because a horses butt muscle is thick.

Cajun Ipsum

Generates cajun-inspired text.

Cayenne boiled crawfish bread pudding sauce piquante Boudreaux po-boy. Interstate envie Lafayette tasso lagniappe King Cake fishing iced tea. Po-boy bonjour smoked sausage trail ride beignet merci beaucoup cajun lagniappe hunting iced tea.

Cat Ipsum

Generates text as cat thoughts.

Stare at guinea pigs mmmmmmmmm eeeeeeee ooooooooo wwwwwwww run in circles, so loved it, hated it, loved it, hated it. Cough furball find box a little too small and curl up with fur hanging out. Kitty ipsum dolor sit amet, shed everywhere shed everywhere stretching attack your ankles chase the red dot, hairball run catnip eat the grass sniff.

Cheese Ipsum

Generates cheese and cheese-adjacent text.

Cow cheese triangles cheesy grin. Stinking bishop port-salut lancashire pecorino stinking bishop cheesy grin red leicester danish fontina. Stilton swiss bocconcini parmesan cottage cheese fondue parmesan hard cheese. Airedale everyone loves halloumi cheese triangles cut the cheese stilton stilton taleggio. Smelly cheese.

Cheesburger Ipsum

Generates actual cheeseburger copy. Limited in what it can give you.

The last time you had a cheeseburger was too long ago. Try not to drool when you think about the slightly charred, medium-rare meat nestled between soft brioche, cradled in crisp iceberg lettuce and flavour amplifying condiments. Why are you still reading this- go get a cheeseburger.

Chiquito Ipsum

I don’t speak Spanish, but it generates Spanish text. Also has a Latin option. Which I also don’t speak. Idk I'm very confused.

Lorem fistrum no puedor de la pradera tiene musho peligro diodenoo a wan. Ese hombree me cago en tus muelas qué dise usteer fistro. Mamaar no puedor al ataquerl ese hombree diodeno caballo blanco caballo negroorl. Ese que llega te va a hasé pupitaa la caidita te voy a borrar el cerito hasta luego Lucas se calle ustée.

Chuck Norris Facts

Generates Chuck Norris Facts. What did you expect XD

Chuck Norris doesn't churn butter. He roundhouse kicks the cows and the butter comes straight out If you spell Chuck Norris in Scrabble, you win. Forever, Chuck Norris is the king of fighters, Chuck Norris originally appeared in the "Street Fighter II" video game, but was removed by Beta Testers because every button caused him to do a roundhouse kick. When asked bout this "glitch," Norris replied, "That's no glitch.".

Coffee Ipsum

Generates coffee-inspired text

Cultivar, strong carajillo whipped half and half irish galão. Id variety that, at redeye, trifecta variety crema robust con panna. Coffee ristretto, et milk, robust flavour cinnamon spoon cappuccino. Dripper, half and half cortado white extra milk medium.

Corporate Ipsum

Generates corporate-style jargon. Sounds like every sales meeting I’ve ever been in.

Leverage agile frameworks to provide a robust synopsis for high level overviews. Iterative approaches to corporate strategy foster collaborative thinking to further the overall value proposition. Organically grow the holistic world view of disruptive innovation via workplace diversity and empowerment.

Cupcake Ipsum

Generates pastry and dessert-inspired text.

Marshmallow lollipop apple pie bonbon pastry icing jujubes toffee jelly beans. Liquorice marzipan toffee candy canes bear claw tart lollipop apple pie. Tootsie roll cake gummies gingerbread wafer sesame snaps cupcake fruitcake sweet roll.

Dalaipsum

Generates quotes from His Holiness the XIVth Dalai Lama.

I love friends, I want more friends. I love smiles. That is a fact. How to develop smiles? There are a variety of smiles. Some smiles are sarcastic. Some smiles are artificial-diplomatic smiles. These smiles do not produce satisfaction, but rather fear or suspicion. But a genuine smile gives us hope, freshness. If we want a genuine smile, then first we must produce the basis for a smile to come.

DeLorean Ipsum

Generates quotes from the movie Back to the Future.

Hey, Doc? Doc. Hello, anybody home? Einstein, come here, boy. What's going on? Wha- aw, god. Aw, Jesus. Whoa, rock and roll. Yo C'mon, Mom, make it fast, I'll miss my bus. Hey see you tonight, Pop. Woo, time to change that oil. Hello. Tab?

Dino Ipsum

Generates names of dinosaurs!

Astrophocaudia Chaoyangsaurus Priconodon Amygdalodon Dracoraptor Mahakala Zalmoxes Anthodon Alocodon Lingyuanosaurus Kotasaurus Leinkupal Magnamanus Styracosaurus Atlasaurus Janenschia Drusilasaura Acristavus Leinkupal Bagaceratops Cedrorestes Batyrosaurus Sinornithoides Coelophysis Neuquensaurus Pachyspondylus Eurolimnornis Platyceratops Marisaurus Quilmesaurus.

Doggo Ipsum

Cat Ipsum but for dogs.

Doggo ipsum lotsa pats very taste wow lotsa pats extremely cuuuuuute, pats adorable doggo. heck very good spot heckin. Heckin good boys and girls clouds corgo sub woofer borking doggo, heckin angery woofer boof length boy. He made many woofs pats h*ck heckin good boys and girls pats boofers, you are doing me the shock the neighborhood pupper long bois.

Durham Ipsum

I don’t know where Durham is, but it generates text inspired by the city...county? 

Triangle localista dino trail jazz diamondview nccu the connecter historic preservation smoffice lemurs, bimbe scrap exchange trinity park brightleaf dance upcycled. Chapel hill street locavore wunc plaid, beer old five points 15-501, angier drive hipster.

Farm Animal Lorem Ipsum

Generates farm-inspired text. I hate that oink oink is in this.

Mallet herbs basil nest, in welding equipment pens quail. Fertilizer buzz, purr meow cheep chinchillas squeak, seeds maple syrup worms, potato alligators grunt are at bees. Apples ducks straw, quail a ostriches donkey, hay hook cucumbers. Post pounder calf, hay or duck is, tool shed horse. Grapes at yams mushrooms organic berries gobble. Mouse soybeans sweet corn hogs llamas or oink oink wind.

Fillerama

Generates quotes from the TV show Futurama.

OK, this has gotta stop. I'm going to remind Fry of his humanity the way only a woman can. In your time, yes, but nowadays shut up! Besides, these are adult stemcells, harvested from perfectly healthy adults whom I killed for their stemcells. I saw you with those two "ladies of the evening" at Elzars. Explain that.

Gangsta Lorem Ipsum

Generates “gangsta” inspired text.

Lorem ipsum dolizzle sit amet, consectetuer gizzle bow wow wow. Nullam sapizzle velit, get down get down volutpizzle, suscipit ma nizzle, gravida vel, mammasay mammasa mamma oo sa. Pellentesque crackalackin tortizzle. Yo eros. Fo shizzle at dolizzle dapibizzle turpizzle tempizzle da bomb.

Heisenberg Ipsum

Generates quotes from the TV show Breaking Bad. It lets you select the character (I’m assuming they’re all from the same show I haven’t seen it).

He has enough money to last forever. He knows he needs to keep moving. You'll never find him. He's out of the picture. I saved his life, I owed him that, but now he and I are done. Which is exactly what you wanted, isn't it. You've always struck me as a very pragmatic man so if I may, I would like to review options with you. Of which, it seems to me you have two.

Hillbilly Ipsum

Generates hillbilly-inspired text and -ism’s.

Chickens in the sack died when I was young rye whiskey steel driving crew? Going to town soldier's joy. One arm round my whiskey keg poor boy sugar baby soldier's joy, fiddle, coming down the track, hot corn nine-pound hammer cluck old hen run. Stranger? Pickle my bones in alcohol.

Hipster Ipsum

Generates hipster-inspired text.

I'm baby plaid umami kale chips, pinterest selvage microdosing gochujang Brooklyn small batch vinyl 3 wolf moon. VHS pinterest wayfarers normcore direct trade pickled lumbersexual vegan yuccie palo santo kickstarter crucifix 3 wolf moon. Vexillologist adaptogen try-hard, chicharrones hexagon vape polaroid.

Horror Lorem Ipsum

Generates horror-inspired text.

Gore at chainsaw knife crazed choking helpless. In willow trees, killer dolls are rotten teeth bite, sheep children virus nibh, in zombies brains unknown ghost creepy. Drenched scream scared dark. Creep cold graves, shadow non fear a, psychotic ashes ghost. Eerie needles edginess, graveyard on death rotten, disturbing non grave. 

Jipsum

A random lorem ipsum generator so not all your text is the same. It’s in German though.

Impensa quaeque mediocris elitr iactare Confirmat metu comit Explicatis civibus deterruisset Manus. Cupiditatum exedunt suaviter inveniri voluptas pauca Inter illa confirmavit. Reprehensiones rebus imperdiet etiam temporis Ornateque delectatio platonem nostris occulta Hausta intercapedo magni. Dicitis timeam Vocet faciendum consul Simulent chrysippe. Fortunae nostros arare Inter futurove.

Journo Ipsum

Generates some of the most common catchphrases, buzzwords, and bon mots of the future-of-news crowd. (Wow I hate that description)

future API Zite the notion of the public #twittermakesyoustupid election-night hologram Rupert Murdoch crowdfunding CPC nut graf gamification gotta grok it before you rock it rubber cement, Foursquare nonprofit Dan Fleckner WikiLeaks abundance libel lawyer Tim Carmody media bias.

Katy Perry Ipsum

Generates Katy Perry lyrics.

The boys break their necks try'na to creep a little sneak peek. Think the city towed my car, chandeliers on the floor. I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire. They say, be afraid you're not like the others, futuristic lover. You think I'm funny when I tell the punchline wrong. We'd keep all our promises be us against the world. Yeah, she's footloose and so fancy free. So I sat quietly, agreed politely.

Khaled Ipsum

Generates Khaled quotes...lyrics? Unclear.

Lorem Khaled Ipsum is a major key to success. The weather is amazing, walk with me through the pathway of more success. Take this journey with me, Lion! Look at the sunset, life is amazing, life is beautiful, life is what you make it. It’s on you how you want to live your life. Everyone has a choice.

Lancashire Ipsum

Generates colloquialisms that originate from the county of Lancashire.

Lancashire ipsum dolor amet gradely axin camp neaw cowd frit. Bellasses yer'sen unawl greaund peawnd. Camp Darrun geet, howd feyther clowt eyter. Vawse way'er clum nought. Gronny no nouse heawr beawnt, Keawyed City purring es'tin inth arrers bin diddy our Peg shoon. 

Liquor Ipsum

A boozy text generator.

Singapore sling old etonian aberlour missouri mule vodka sunrise two fingers shirley temple black pappy van winkle glenburgie. Paddy the last word, gibson vat 69, bruichladdich flirtini lejon hanky-panky drambuie finlandia tequila sunrise edradour!

Melbourne Ipsum

Honestly I have no idea what this is but I’m assuming it’s Australian.

Naked for satan street art, spiegeltent north of the river brunswick and brunswick st MSAC kylie minogue, swanston melb collingwood ferals spring racing carnival empire of the sun, the melbourne cup the hawks victory vs heart four seasons in one day the borek woman, avalon is so not melb the espy bill clinton ate two bowls.

Mid-century Ipsum

Generates mid-century-inspired text.

Hostess trolley bakelite selectric creative carport candy-ass, jazz whiskey beatnik creative. Tiki upswept frutiger googie drive-in futuristic highway jet-age television, herman miller danish modern jet-age. Ratpack ranch home whiskey candy-ass upswept saul bass jet-age hostess trolley?

Morse Code Lorem Ipsum

Generates random Morse Code.

.-.. --- .-. . -- .. .--. … ..- -- -.. --- .-.. --- .-. … .. - .- -- . - --..-- -.-. --- -. … . -.-. - . - ..- . .-. .- -.. .. .--. .. … -.-. .. -. --. . .-.. .. - .-.-.- ..- - --- -.. .. --- .-.-.- -. .- -- … . -.. . … - .-.-.- -. .- -- .- .-. .. … ..- … . - . … - .. .- -.-. ..- .-.. .. … .- -.. .. .--. .. … -.-. .. -. --. .-.-.- …- . … - .. -… ..- .-.. ..- -- .- -. - . .. .--. … ..- -- .--. .-. .. -- .. … .. -. ..-. .- ..- -.-. .. -… ..- … --- .-. -.-. .. .-.. ..- -.-. - ..- … . - ..- .-.. -

Mussem Ipsum

I don’t know who Mussem is but it’s in Portuguese. He looks friendly?

Mussum Ipsum, cacilds vidis litro abertis. A ordem dos tratores não altera o pão duris.Interessantiss quisso pudia ce receita de bolis, mais bolis eu num gostis.Suco de cevadiss, é um leite divinis, qui tem lupuliz, matis, aguis e fermentis.Admodum accumsan disputationi eu sit. Vide electram sadipscing et per.

Neil deGrasse Tyson Ipsum

Generates quotes from astrophysicist Niel deGrasse Tyson. 

As an educator, I try to get people to be fundamentally curious and to question ideas that they might have or that are shared by others. In that state of mind, they have earned a kind of inoculation against the fuzzy thinking of these weird ideas floating around out there.

Nietzsche Ipsum

Generates Nietzsche-inspired text.

Society depths ubermensch christianity sea enlightenment joy virtues decieve society good disgust selfish noble. Ascetic decieve pious play deceptions decieve decieve intentions self self ideal.

Ocean Creature Lorem Ipsum

Generates sea creature-inspired text.

Manta ray with lionfish ect. Coral hogfish fingernail clam in tilefish mandarinfish crab lionfish weasel shark. Yellow pseudochromis weasel shark shadow, darkness in deap ocean an, Motionless Wabash pigtoe Full moon. Colorful soldierfish banded sole jump. Nurse shark at goatfish grey whale.

Obama Ipsum

Generates quotes from former US President Barack Obama.

We are a better country than this. But I will also renew the tough, direct diplomacy that can prevent Iran from obtaining nuclear weapons and curb Russian aggression. It is time for us to act on what everyone knows to be true. This tolerance is essential for religion to thrive, but it is being challenged in many different ways.

Office Ipsum

Generates sentences you’ve heard in every meeting ever. Also has a client feedback version!

If you're not hurting you're not winning pivot, dear hiring manager:, for incentivization even dead cats bounce wiggle room, for one-sheet. Put a record on and see who dances high-level, but we've got to manage that low hanging fruit lift and shift. It just needs more cowbell make it a priority, but strategic high-level 30,000 ft view pro-sumer software, so golden goose low-hanging fruit can we parallel path. 

Pirate Ipsum

Generates pirate-inspired jargon.

Squiffy ballast maroon gangplank tackle grog scuppers driver barque tack. Yardarm mizzen barque capstan heave to hardtack Pieces of Eight port hulk parrel. Pinnace lass Jack Tar gabion Yellow Jack run a rig furl red ensign come about Brethren of the Coast.

Pizza Ipsum

I love pizza ?

Pizza ipsum dolor amet garlic sausage white pizza bianca hawaiian pizza meat lovers large onions. Banana peppers black olives stuffed crust, pizza steak bbq sauce chicken wing meatball garlic lasagna green bell peppers anchovies mushrooms extra cheese. Philly steak bianca pizza mayo, garlic sauce bbq rib platter. 

Placehodler

It’s crypto and I hate it.

Bitcoin could be many dormant accidental fork! Monero waited some efficient do your own research during lots of market cap. Since someone specialises in few quick coin in the difficulty, Litecoin limited a hot wallet at few smart contract, so although SHA 256 did lots of provably fair double spend behind many Lambo

Pommy Ipsum

“The official lorem ipsum filler text generator of the British Empire.”

Pommy ipsum knee high to a grasshopper i'll be a monkey's uncle sod's law knows bugger all about nowt one would like spend a penny grab a jumper, cheesed off that's ace shepherd's pie mince pies anorak because there was nothing on the gogglebox, what a load of guff chippy accordingly nosh on a stag do chin up.

Postmodernist Generator

Generates a whole meaningless essay of postmodernist jargon.

If one examines textual deappropriation, one is faced with a choice: either reject textual precapitalist theory or conclude that sexual identity has objective value. Lyotard uses the term ‘textual materialism’ to denote a mythopoetical paradox It could be said that the premise of textual precapitalist theory holds that narrative is a product of communication, given that narrativity is equal to language.

Ramen Ipsum

Ramen is love. Ramen is life.

Ginger sesame oil abura soba chopped onions chicken stock seasoned egg corn Nagoya pork bones soy sauce. Asahikawa flavoured oil scallions Kagoshima Tokushima abura soba Hakata Tokyo Nissin instant cup ramen soy sauce yuzu toasted sesame seeds ramen burger vinegar.

Rush Ipsum

Generates lyrics from the band Rush.

One likes to believe in the freedom of music, but glittering prizes and endless compromises shatter the illusion of integrity. I wandered home though the silent streets and fell into a fitful sleep. I know it's most unusual to come before you so, but I've found an ancient miracle.

Sagan Ipsum

Generates text inspired by astronomer Carl Sagan.

Paroxysm of global death Drake Equation explorations another world from which we spring a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. Cosmos kindling the energy hidden in matter globular star cluster dream of the mind's eye ship of the imagination courage of our questions?

Samuel L. Ipsum

Generates quotes from actor Samuel L. Jackson. (Warning: inappropriate language)

Now that there is the Tec-9, a crappy spray gun from South Miami. This gun is advertised as the most popular gun in American crime. Do you believe that shit? It actually says that in the little book that comes with it: the most popular gun in American crime. Like they're actually proud of that shit.

Skate Ipsum

Generates skater lingo.

Skate ipsum dolor sit amet, Primo slide dude rock and roll mute-air 540 nose bump. Masonite locals egg plant trucks Saran Wrap camel back. Pool bigspin Paul Rodriguez no comply mini ramp nose slide feeble. 720 fakie out griptape Grind King mute-air regular footed bail. Pogo rail slide crail slide full-cab feeble concave Johnny Rad. 

Space Ipsum

Generates outer space-inspired text.

There is no strife, no prejudice, no national conflict in outer space as yet. Its hazards are hostile to us all. Its conquest deserves the best of all mankind, and its opportunity for peaceful cooperation many never come again. But why, some say, the moon? Why choose this as our goal?

Trump Ipsum

Generates text inspired by former US President Donald Trump.

You have so many different things placeholder text has to be able to do, and I don't believe Lorem Ipsum has the stamina. You have so many different things placeholder text has to be able to do, and I don't believe Lorem Ipsum has the stamina. He’s not a word hero. He’s a word hero because he was captured. I like text that wasn’t captured.

Web 2.0 Ipsum

Generates text from nonsensical Web 2.0 startup names, just for the heck of it. 

Webtwo ipsum sclipo zapier groupon blippy, wesabe. Empressr twitter groupon meebo joukuu doostang octopart, grockit spock doostang koofers. Scribd airbnb zoho insala gooru chartly yuntaa, odeo knewton koofers balihoo zlio. Wikia prezi zlio empressr glogster cloudera tivo kno, wufoo sifteo zimbra jiglu kippt.

Wine Ipsum

Generates actual filler copy about wine.

The aftertaste, or "finish," is the primary factor in judging the quality and character of wine. Tomato and cherry flavors nestle comfortably together with notes of leather and clay in Sangiovese. A lingering finish indicates a luscious vintage! If a husband found his wife drinking wine in the early Roman times, he was at liberty to kill her. Be not offended when your ex drinks wine.

Yolo Ipsum

I hate this and I will be using it for every project going forward.

Don’t trust anyone, cause you only live once. Aliquam imperdiet, ligula vehicula sodales lobortis, dui arcu ultricies libero, vitae tempor eros libero sed neque. Pop a molly, I’m sweatin’, consequat feugiat eros.  How you like your eggs, fried or fertilized? 

Zombie Ipsum

“A macabre feast of frightful filler.”

Zombie ipsum reversus ab viral inferno, nam rick grimes malum cerebro. De carne lumbering animata corpora quaeritis. Summus brains sit​​, morbo vel maleficia? De apocalypsi gorger omero undead survivor dictum mauris. Hi mindless mortuis soulless creaturas, imo evil stalking monstra adventus resi dentevil vultus comedat cerebella viventium.

[feeder86]

The Feeders’ Foreclosure

Scott perched himself against the doorframe, pumping his bicep and staring down at Macey with a flirtatious smile. He’d only agreed to an appointment with the physio so that he could have her hands running down his body, working his shoulders and back. All those oils being rubbed into his muscular body; she wouldn’t be able to resist climbing up onto that table with him. And she was so fucking hot, with those tits and pert, round butt, together with that tiny little waist. Scott’s mind raced with all of the dirty things he wanted to do with her. He listened to her speaking, imagining those pretty lips of hers sliding over his dick. He’d heard that she had been a gymnast before taking on physiotherapy and Scott had yet to come across a single girl with that sort of flexibility who wasn’t fucking awesome in bed.

“I heard about your brother getting signed up professionally,” Macey smiled, looking up at the big hunk of a football player. “You must be very proud.”

Scott nodded. When he’d first heard about his brother’s professional football contract, his immediate feelings had been of overwhelming jealousy. Now, however, he had come to realise that it was a pretty awesome way to pick up girls who might just have assumed him to be a simple dumb jock. If the brother had made it, why couldn’t he make it to the major football clubs too? “You heard about that, huh?” he smiled. “That’s going to be me too soon, you know? When they signed my brother up, they specifically said that they wanted to see me play as well. Sporting prowess is in our genes,” he boasted, filling his enormous chest with air. “Maybe you’d like to come for a drink with me this evening, while I’m still around…”

Macey smiled with a coy shyness that was most definitely an act. She knew how sexy she was and didn’t need validation. “Maybe…” she teased. “If you play your cards right…”

“I’ve never had a single complaint about how I play my cards…” Scott replied suggestively. “Say you’ll come for a drink with me,” he smiled.

Macey smiled, looking up at him with her big, expressive eyes. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Scott grinned. Now he was really looking forward to this massage! “Shall we get started then?” he smirked, already heading into one of the treatment rooms.

“You’re not with me today,” Macey replied, shaking her head. “They flew in some specialist to see to Matt and Nathan’s injuries, so he’s taking all the physio appointments today.”

“They flew in a specialist for Matt and Nathan?” Scott asked, horrified. Why the hell would they bother spending money on those two? He’d never understood why they were even on the team. Two grotesquely overweight guys, somehow keeping a spot warm on the bench each week. It was a fucking joke. Matt and Nathan couldn’t run for shit, let alone play a game of football.

Macey nodded, seeming to understand Scott’s thoughts exactly. “Don’t ask,” she chuckled. “I have no idea who makes these fucked-up decisions either. Apparently, the guy is very good though.  He’s a proper massage therapist. But he’s costing a fortune. So, coach is trying to get everyone to see him while they’re having to pay him.”

“Well, fuck that,” Scott shot back. “If it’s not you massaging my back today, I don’t want to be bothered…” he grinned, daring to reach out his arm and stroke Macey forearm flirtatiously. The girl smiled and gazed up at him with those large, beautiful eyes of hers, knowing just how horny she made him.

Scott felt a firm hand land on his shoulder from behind him. He turned, feeling unimpressed that someone had cock-blocked him just when he was making progress with Macey. However, the sight that greeted him made him forget almost everything. The man standing there was a physical masterpiece; tall, built and handsome, he must have been an absolute legend with the ladies. Scott had spent years building up his physique, so he could definitely respect how much work the guy had put into creating the perfectly toned and chiselled body that was clearly evident under his tight polo shirt. 

“I’m guessing you’re Scott?” the man asked, smiling broadly. “I believe you have an appointment with me right about now?”

Scott couldn’t quite describe the swirling bubble of emotions inside of him. He felt alert, intrigued, excited and terrified, all at the same time. His heart raced and his voice, when he finally spoke, showed signs of a slight quiver. “Yeah. Um… I think so. If you still have time?” he asked politely. 

“I’ve always got time,” the man smiled, holding out his hand and seeming to grace Scott with the entirety of his attention. “My name is Dax.”

Scott took the man’s hand; taken immediately by surprise at how firm and commanding a handshake the man gave. “Nice to meet you,” he offered shyly. He realised as he said the words just how much he meant them. Something about this guy had overwhelmed him. He felt like he had just met someone very important; possibly the most important person he would ever meet in his entire life.

“Are you ready to get started?” Dax asked, sending his arms out in the direction of the little physio room down the corridor.

“Yeah, sure,” Scott nodded, already starting to walk down. By the time he remembered about Macey, he was in the room. He glanced back in the seconds before the door was closed, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Take a seat,” Dax suggested kindly, pointing to the massage table. “So, your coach tells me you’ve been experiencing some tightness in your shoulders after an injury last year?” Already his hands were out, exploring; those strong fingers working their way into Scott’s muscles for an initial assessment.

Scott sighed. Dax’s fingers felt like magic and he hadn’t even started yet. “Just a little,” he answered carelessly. He listened as Dax gave his initial impressions, before leaving in order for Scott to undress and get up on the table.

Standing up, Scott pulled off his shirt and pants, folding them neatly on the chair. Well accustomed to this sort of treatment, he pulled down his underwear, unsurprised but confused by the hardness that pounced out. His dick was hard; seriously hard; tingling with an excitement that he had never felt so extremely before. He’d been aroused when he was flirting with Macey, but not like this. Was it Dax? Another dude? Fuck! Was he getting hard over a dude? He slipped down onto the table, pulling his erection up so that Dax wouldn’t see it when he came back in. Then he reached behind him, awkwardly pulling the sheet over his lower half and then finally slipping his head into the small hole of the table. He lay there for what felt like minutes, wondering what Dax would think of his body. Would he think he was hot? Everyone else did. Six foot five and over two hundred and forty pounds of lean muscle. Why was the idea of Dax checking him out doing so much for him right now? He could feel the blood pumping even more ferociously to his groin and could hardly resist the urge to discreetly hump the table. 

Scott heard the door open and his heart fluttered greatly. He listened as it closed and could sense Dax as he walked around to get the oils he needed, watching his large feet as they came into view. 

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll sort you out in no time,” Dax offered cheerfully. “All you’ve got to do is just lie there and let me work my special way with you.”

Oily hands began roaming on Scott’s back. He felt their incredible strength and precision; masters at their art: more oil, more massaging and that sinking drift into relaxation. Scott had never felt so willing to let someone take control like this. He’d never been able to fully commit to the massage process like he did with Dax, right now. 

“You’ve clearly been working hard at the gym,” Dax commented in his soothing voice. “I’ve got big hands and even I’m struggling to work around these huge shoulders of yours,” he chuckled.

Scott’s dick tingled with delight. He could almost imagine that Dax was flirting with him, and the idea of that seemed almost too much to bear. 

“You seemed like you were pretty taken with the girl who works here. Macey, is it?” Dax asked.

“Oh… no,” Scott shot back. “She’s not really… not really my type,” he lied; knowing for certain that didn’t want to talk about Macey right now; a sudden urge to ensure that he didn’t seem in any way unavailable should the impossible happen and Dax try to flirt for real with him.

“So, what is your type then?” Dax asked. Perhaps he didn’t mean to sound so alluring, but the combination of the oils and touching, combined with that deep, smooth voice of his; Scott could feel his hardness starting to get sticky with arousal.

“Oh, you know…” Scott tried, attempting to seem noncommittal. “I don’t really have time to look for someone right now.”

“I understand that,” Dax agreed, working his hands down Scott’s back. “You’re a very busy boy. You need the right person to find you instead. Someone who can show you how to have a good time.”

“That’s exactly what I need…” Scott agreed as Dax’s fingers continued to send him into a deeper and deeper abyss of arousal.

“Life is about much more than just studying and working out in the gym. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Scott breathed with a relaxing sigh. Right now, he didn’t want to ever move from right here, with Dax. “Saying that…” he began, suddenly feeling a spike of excitement as the idea of flirting back became all too much for Dax to ignore, “...you look like you work out even more than I do. Your arms are insane!”

“You need big strong arms to work all the knots out of strapping, pumped-up athletes like you,” Dax replied, by way of explanation for his incredible physique.

Scott jumped a little as he felt the sheet lower, exposing his butt.

“Relax,” Dax reminded him, taking a break to oil up his hands again. I can see you’ve got a little tension down here that I need to work on too.”

With that, Dax’s hands dove down onto one of Scott’s butt cheeks, working it with absolute precision. Scott could feel the strong fingers working smoothly over the surface, round and round, getting closer and closer to falling into his butt crack. The sensation was one of the most erotic he had ever experienced. He exhaled deeply until he caught himself moaning, loud and long. He closed his mouth, feeling slight embarrassment and wondering what on Earth Dax would be thinking of him. But as Dax carried on, now working the other butt cheek, Scott heard the moan of pleasure singing from his throat once more. This time, however, the keen groan was only stopped as a large bubble of gas seemed to manifest and rise up from his stomach, escaping effortlessly and noisily through his gaping mouth. The sensation startled him, and he jumped, mumbling an immediate apology to the beautiful man above him.

“Shh, just relax!” Dax simply reminded him, briefly rubbing his back before returning to work down on Scott’s glutes. “So, I hear you’ve got a brother who has just been picked up to play for the big leagues?” he asked in that ever calm and powerful voice of his.

Scott tried to respond as best he could, but his brain didn’t seem nearly sharp enough to hold a real conversation. He felt hot and watched as more than one bead of sweat rolled down his nose and pooled onto the floor below. It didn’t feel as easy to relax now. He still felt like there was gas in his stomach, finding it hard to escape. 

“I’ll make a point of stopping by your brother’s club,” Dax stated at last, having extracted as much information as he could from Scott’s sluggish brain. “I like collecting sets. I assume you’re both quite similar in appearance? Tall, big shoulders, bubble butt?”

Scott frowned. Bubble butt? No one had ever referred to his rear as a bubble butt before. The term hardly seemed fitting. In Scott’s mind, a bubble butt was something oversized, rounded and doughy. But as those indignant thoughts raced through his brain, he suddenly felt the flutter a little chub on his rear, almost as if Dax himself was playing with it.

“If I’m honest with you, Scott,” Dax suddenly began. “Your coach asked me to have a little word with you today about diet and exercise. You see…” he sighed, clearly gazing down at Scott’s naked glutes, “...people  have started to notice that you’re getting a little doughy back here.” 

With that, he gave Scott’s butt cheek a very deliberate and surprisingly rough jiggle with the palm of his hand. The feeling was unlike anything Scott had ever experienced before. Perhaps it was because his muscles had been so relaxed, but he could detect an almost rippling effect as his butt literally wobbled under such physical scrutiny. He rolled up onto his side, noticing how damp and sweaty his entire body had become under the layers of all those oils being rubbed into his skin. He looked across at Dax, noticing for the first time that the guy had been massaging him under thin, perfectly sculpted and form fitting black gloves. “What?” he asked in alarm. “Coach thinks I’m..?” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. The idea was preposterous to say the least.

Dax’s eyes slipped directly to Scott’s crotch, where the raging, pulsing boner had suddenly been uncovered by the spontaneous shift. His eyebrow rose and a slick smirk spread across his face. “Well, hello there!” he teased.

Scoot immediately sank back down onto his front, feeling utterly mortified. “Sorry!” he mumbled. “It’s just the massage. It sort of…” he stuttered, trying his best to manifest some sort of excuse in his brain.

“Shh! Don’t worry about it,” Dax offered in his calm, smooth voice; despite the almost obvious hint that he wanted to laugh. “I just want you to relax. That’s all.”

Scott felt his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, but still his hardness raged, hidden underneath him. He felt gas bubbling and he burped again, feeling like his body was betraying him in every single way.

“That’s it!” Dax encouraged him soothingly. “Let it all out and relax, Scott.”

Scott felt more oil being slapped on to his ass. He sensed it dribbling into his crack and pooling by his hole, which so desperately wanted to be caressed by Dax. The sheets underneath him were so sweaty and damp, he felt the expiration rolling down his back. The sense that he wasn’t quite in control of his body seemed to become more and more apparent to him. As Dax was telling him to relax, he felt like something was taking advantage of his inattention; like there was something he ought to be attending to. However, it was only when he felt his hips gyrating under him that he knew something was really off. There, in full view of Dax, he looked like he was physically humping the massage table for real. 

Scott felt Dax’s gloved hands fly off his butt as soon as the movement began. He squinted his eyes and concentrated, trying his best to make his body stop, but he started to believe that he may have lost control entirely, for the motion just could not be halted. He cringed. The whole thing felt like the most terrible nightmare. He wondered what Dax must be thinking. How horrified he must be at the sight of a guy, so turned on, that he was physically incapable of refraining from stimulating himself.

Whatever reaction Scott had been expecting, Dax’s delighted chuckle had not been it. “My, my, my!” the guy declared in unmistakable amusement. “What a horny little piggy we have here today!” He slipped his hand back down onto Scott’s butt and finally allowed his fingers to travel down into the crack. Scott felt a purposeful finger rub against his hole, applying the most delicious pressure that allowed the pooled massage oil to slip inside his body. He moaned in pleasure, but the speed of his hip movements only seemed to increase. “Come on!” Dax suddenly ordered, tapping his butt as if he wanted Scott to remove himself from the massage table. “Come on, get up! Up, up!” he demanded bossily.

Scott slid his sweaty knee up, followed by the other one, then slowly lifted his arms and picked up his head. He felt tired and defeated, despite the odd vibrations and movements in his body. All the while, Dax continued to tap his butt, demanding something of him that Scott barely felt capable of. Almost in a panic, he put his foot down and felt the floor below him. He followed with the second foot, surprised at how heavy and lethargic his body felt, but eventually found he was able to walk backwards, away from the table. He looked at Dax, seeking some sort of explanation for what could be happening right now.

Dax grinned and almost seemed to coo at him. “Awh!” he grinned in mock sympathy. He opened one of his gloved palms and poured some of his massage oil onto it. He stepped closer, gazing with a look of pure mischief at Scott’s body. “Poor, little Scotty boy!” he teased, rubbing the oil onto his hands better and then slapping them both down on Scott’s stomach. It was the feeling that caught Scott off guard more than anything else; the way Dax’s hands seemed to be absorbed by his body. They sank into the flesh like nothing he had ever experienced before, and as he looked down, Scott could see why. A small paunch had appeared around his middle. Fat had developed, filling up his sides and smothering his abs entirely. As his hips rocked, he could feel blubber bouncing on his rear and the strange sensation of a double chin forming as he tried to look down at himself.

“What are you doing?” Scott tried to mumble. Even to himself he didn’t sound very clear. Dax’s hands were rubbing all over his torso; painting it with the massage oil. He felt like his body was in the tight grip of something entirely inescapable. Even in his confused state, he could tell that whatever it was Dax was applying to his skin was causing all of this to happen.

“Shh!” Dax whispered, placing an oily finger over Scott’s lips. “Don’t spoil the show by trying to talk, little piggy!” He kissed Scott on the top of his nose; a kiss completely devoid of affection, but merely a display of his dominance. Nonetheless, Scott’s body relaxed further, as he felt a wave of love wash over him and, in doing so, any remaining control he had over himself seemed to be pushed further and further away from him.

Dax took a step back, pulling off his gloves and throwing them onto the floor. Then he removed his shirt and sat back against the side of the massage table that Scott had once been laid out on. He smirked in a way that showed he was fully aware of how outstandingly beautiful his body was. He chuckled to himself at the way Scott couldn’t help gazing at him; hopelessly in love. Then Dax started kissing his large biceps and posing for the horny young athlete as his hips shook and the transformation of his body continued. Whatever was happening no longer needed Dax’s monitoring and stimulation. The man looked ready to simply enjoy the miracle of what he had begun.

Scott felt like his face was falling backwards. Even as he felt an alarming jiggle beginning to overcome his chest, it was the sensation of the fat filling his neck and puffing up his cheeks that he was most aware of. 

“Just look at you!” Dax marvelled, in awe of his own genius. “Can you feel it?” he asked triumphantly. “Can you feel that fat little belly pushing out?”

It was hard for Scott to keep a focus on anything, but as he looked down, he could see the most shocking of bellies. He knew how aroused he was still, he could feel the ache of his concrete erection, and yet there was no sight of it below his newly built gut.

“I’m going to get every single one of you!” Dax declared. “All of your little pumped-up, arrogant football friends are going to feel what you’re experiencing right now.” He reached out to pick up the empty clothes Scott had neatly set out of the chair. He held in his hands Scott’s boxer shorts and he cooed as if he was holding up the most adorably tiny baby clothes. “Designer underwear!” he laughed. “Of course!” he mocked. “Such a shame you got so fat! You football boys always respond so well. I can already see that you’re going to be a whopper of a fatty!”

The sudden surge of growth in Scott’s stomach made him wince. There was a stretch, like his skin couldn’t keep up with the rapid expansion, and he moaned aloud. His gut felt like a lead weight and it was all he could do to stay upright and resist the urge to hunch over.

“And when I’m done here, I’m going to find your brother and do this to him too. Then I’ll take down the whole of his team. Your parents will have two, disgusting, grotesque fat boys for sons!” Dax declared. “I made a promise. A deal that I wouldn’t leave a single one of you repulsive boys out.”

Scott could barely hear a word that was being said. His hips were shaking with an almost ferocious force and he could feel his arms being pushed outwards as fat spread under his triceps and filled his chest. He could feel a mass starting to press down on his own erection but could barely comprehend that it was the blubbery and sweaty fat that was filling his groin. He simply watched Dax’s eyes dance with maniacal delight. The violence of his rocking body left him unable to think of anything else. All that oil on his skin had been built, layer by layer, sinking into his body until the power of it now gripped him completely, shaking him like a puny twig in the most brutal fashion; as if he had been horrifically overdosed by whatever power it was that was taking him in the most extreme way possible. Yet, all the while, Dax just sat, perched against the massage table, laughing with a wicked thrill.

Not long afterwards, the lights went out.

Scott seemed to get a sense of his surroundings. His breathing was calm and his heart was beating with a slow, relaxed pace. He found himself sat in the same waiting room he had been in earlier. He looked around and nearly wobbled off his chair, so much of his rear end seemed to be hanging over it. He body felt so alien, yet he knew it wasn’t. His enormous chest heaved and he found his hand naturally sat on a shelf of belly fat underneath it. His legs were spread wide and there was a cooler breeze under his tummy. He reached under and realised that the shirt he was wearing was about six inches short of covering his torso. The skin was so soft under there, almost fluffy. His whole body rippled with a surprisingly erotic wave as his finger stroked across the flesh. 

Scott’s nose twitched. Had he been exercising? He raised his arm, not quite realising how much strength it would take, and tried to press his nose somewhere between his blubbery chest and enormous, puffy arms. The sweaty smell was coming from him. But, as he lowered his raised arm, he realised that there was something clutched in his left hand. A sugary, round little doughnut was sitting in his large hands, pinched by thick, sausage-like fingers. He felt his mouth fill with saliva as he stared at the glistening surface and smelt the sweet scent of it. He couldn’t remember having eaten many of these in his time, but he knew he had a big appetite. How else could he have grown to such enormous proportions over the years? He pressed it to his lips and took a bite; sighing with happiness as the delicious tastes melted onto his tongue. 

Macey slipped around the corner and caught sight of him. Her face didn’t fill with brightness as it usually did. She seemed in something of a bad mood and her eyes fell straight to the doughnut in Scott’s hand. WIth a thrill of excitement, Scott remembered that she had agreed to go for a drink with him. Was that why he was still sat here? He tried to call out to her, but she just carried on walking like she hadn’t heard. Had she changed her mind? He’d never known her to be so… well, it was almost rude.

A large, muscular man strutted in next. Scott smiled, recognising his team mate, Pete; one of his best buddies, especially when it came to nights out. 

“Pete! My man!” he called out chirpily. He might have got up to give him a fist pump, but for whatever reason, Scott didn’t seem too confident to get up right now.

Pete glanced at him and huffed, like he too was in a bad mood. He sat down and spread his thick, muscular legs wide, glancing around like he wasn’t really in the mood to chat. 

Scott stared at his friend. In his mind, he had always assumed them both to be fairly similar. But as he looked at Pete now, with his strong, built chest and flat, strong stomach, he realised that there was actually an entire world of difference. “You okay?” Scott asked, wondering why everyone was so quiet with him today.

“I’m fine,” Pete snapped back. “I just don’t have time for this shit. You know we can’t have our summer social this year because they had to pay for this massage therapist to be flown in for you guys? I have no idea why you, Matt and Nathan are even on the team; you can’t run for shit! Why the fuck they want to spend this sort of cash on you is beyond me!”

Scott opened his mouth to protest, then stopped himself. It was true that the three of them, being the largest and most overweight on the team, had been the priority for the treatment. “At least you get a free massage out of it,” he tried.

“Hey, Macey!” Pete suddenly chirped, seeing the fit girl coming by again. It was like someone had pushed a coin into a slot machine, and Pete had burst into life. Watching on, Scott could see that Macey was exactly the same. Their bad moods seemed to have disappeared entirely. Pete was into her, Scott could tell. A little green monster of jealousy wriggled inside of him. Pete was so fit and athletic; so different to the almost five hundred pounds of complete obesity Scott was these days. He nibbled at the last bits of his doughnut as he saw Pete shamelessly checking out the girl’s sweet ass as she she walked away, swooning and biting his bottom lip in appreciation.

“Macey and I are going out for a drink together later,” Scott stated defensively, wanting to assert some sort of dominance.

Pete laughed, stopping only when he realised that Scott wasn’t kidding. “You’re making that up,” he sighed dismissively. “There’s no way a girl like Macey would ever…” His eyes roamed over Scott’s enormous stomach as the man pressed the remaining crumbs that had landed his oversized chest and belly shelf, back into his greedy mouth. “Fuck, man! Don’t you ever stop?” Pete growled in genuine annoyance.

Scott looked at him, shocked by the sudden outburst.

“You’re a fucking embarrassment!” he yelled. “Isn’t it enough that we have to watch you trying to waddle around on the pitch?”

“What’s your problem with me?” Scott asked, matching Pete’s sudden aggression.

“It’s just you!” Pete growled. “Look at the fucking state of you!”

“I thought we were buddies?” Scott asked.

“Why? What the fuck do I have in common with YOU?” he spat, like the idea of them being friends insulted him somehow. “Just quit the team and do us all a favour,” Pete finally declared, standing up like he was about to storm off.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?” came a polite, masculine voice from the side. 

Pete turned and all of the anger in his face suddenly disappeared. “Um, no,” he mumbled, obviously a little embarrassed by his behaviour. He seemed star-stuck.

“I’m guessing you’re my next appointment? Peter?”

“Call me, Pete,” the athlete offered kindly, racing forward to shake the massage therapist’s hand.

“That’s a nice, firm handshake you’ve got there!” Dax smiled flirtatiously. “I think you and I are going to get along very well…”

Pete’s eyes sparked with delight. Scott felt like there was something he needed to say; something that was sat, waiting on the tip of his tongue. All the lust he felt for Dax came flooding into him. Yet, the memories of Dax and what had happened in that room were completely gone.

“Why don’t you go and get undressed and wait for me on the massage table?” Dax offered kindly, pointing a little way down the corridor. “I’ll join you in a second.”

Pete looked completely smitten as he nodded his head and began walking down the corridor. Now it was his turn to have his ass checked out like a piece of meat. Dax turned his head to the side and sucked in the air through his teeth in appreciation of it. Then he turned, looking straight at Scott with the most devilish of grins. He puckered his lips and kissed the air multiple times in an almost mocking taunt, before he turned back again, following his next client into the room.

[dawnagustd]

cool’n || ksj

Written For:

❃ Festivaled Away: Hot Boy Summer hosted by @bangtanbathhouse​

⤞ Ticket: Pool Party ⤞ Main Event: Bubblegum (hot girl/boy shit) ⤞ Games: choking | power dynamics | degradation | temperature play

⤞ title: cool’n ⤞ pairing: sugar daddy!seokjin x sugar baby!female reader ⤞ genre: smut | established relationship | pwp ⤞ summary: You’re just out doing some hot girl shit with your friends, but your boyfriend does not approve. ⤞ word count: 1.3k ⤞ warnings: strong language | exhibitionism | petting | choking | power play dynamics | degradation & erotic humiliation | temperature play | teasing | orgasm denial | sexual punishment | brat tamer!seokjin | dom/sub dynamics | sugar daddy & sugar baby relationship | pet names | clit stimulation | one ass slap | dirty talk | alcohol consumption | age gap(3 years) - reader is older | jealousy | a little possessiveness | sexual tension | flirting ⤞ rating: 18+ ⤞ a/n: I really didn’t mean to write this...I just slipped and fell on Seokjin’s d*ck.😂But anyway, I wrote this last night because we just kicked off our summer events over at BBH. Shoutout to Madame Ryen @kithtaehyung​ for these prompts!! Also, thank you Mars @joheunsaram​ for helping me thirst(brainstorm). Anyway, here it is. Enjoy.

You weren’t expecting him to show up. Not after he told you to get the hell out of his office so he can work. That's all he thinks about—work. You just knew he’d be there now, but when someone sits beside you and throws their arm over your beach chair, you know from the gentle strokes on the skin of your shoulder that those fingers belonged to him.

“What are you doing out here, baby girl?” He stares straight ahead as he speaks, following your gaze to the flirty bartender on the other side of the pool.

You should have called or text at least, but he pissed you off so you had no choice but to act out. You called your friends and told them to spin the block; you wanted to partake in hot girl summer as well.

“Nothing.”

He beckons for one of the poolside servers to bring him a beer, and she does so rather scandalously. You scowl at her when he hands her a twenty dollar bill, preparing to give her a piece of your mind, but then Seokjin taps your leg with the cold bottle. “Easy, baby girl.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m older than you.” Your arms fold at your chest and you mistakenly uncross your legs.

“Aww, don’t be like that, sweetheart.” 

Seokjin twists off the cap and takes a sip of his beverage with a small ahh. He sits back in his chair, and lets you know he isn’t in the mood for your games. “Be a good girl and hold my beer for me.”

Seokjin places the bottle between your thighs with only a small bit of effort. He whispers, “keep them closed,” and you know he’s got you good this time. The ice cold glass rests directly against your center, making you whimper and dig your nails in his arm. He twists the bottle a few times, and you give him a look of panic. “You wouldn’t.”

“You should know me well enough to know that I would,” he replies. 

Seokjin runs his cold fingers over your skin, tugging on the string of your bikini when he reaches the fabric. “Just sit back, look pretty, and take your punishment, baby girl. I might reward you if you can get through it without screaming.”

“Ohh…my god. Shit.” 

You try to maintain your composure while he slides the bottle up and down your thinly covered slit. Your watery eyes look over at him with a silent plea that he rejects instantly. 

“Don’t even ask because right now you should be thankful that I’m even touching you. You wanna come out here and be everyone else’s whore, ask them to make you come then.”

Your eyes focus on the sky, trying to distract yourself from the way your sensitive clit throbs against the glass. Your arousal only adds to the moisture pooling between your thighs, and you silently pray it doesn’t seep through your flimsy bikini bottoms. There isn’t a breeze in the evening air, but your body is shaking from the chill and the pressure applied to your pulsing bud. “Seokjin, please.”

A couple of people turn their heads in your direction when they pass by because they overhear you moan his name, and when you look at him to beg for mercy, he has a smirk on his face. Everyone can probably see the embarrassment all over your face; most don’t even know the cause of it, but some are very aware of what is happening. Your hips begin to roll on their own, disobeying every rational thought you mind is telling you not to commit such lewd acts in a public place.

“Look at you,” he comments. “...giving my pussy to the streets. You aren’t really mine, huh?”

Seokjin applies more pressure and your thighs clench harder. Your chest heaves up and down, trying to steady your breathing but to no avail. 

“I am,” you croak, but Seokjin only tsks in response.

“You’re gonna have to prove it. I have to leave work because I see my girl on Instagram chillin' with these clowns.” He leans forward to speak in your ear. “You think they can afford your lifestyle?...think they can make you come all over yourself like I can?”

You shake your head. “No. They can’t.”

He hums. 

“Mmhm, ask that lady for another beer.”

You call the waitress over, and she brings over another ice cold beverage, smiling when Seokjin makes you hand her the large bill he places in your hand. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you so much,” you chirp with a fake smile. Your eyes roll in annoyance when she finally leaves.

When Seokjin’s hand touches your back, you sit up a little straight due to his cold fingertips. 

“You’re gonna go enjoy the party,” he tells you while he uses the bottle to massage your clit.

“And when I tell you we’re leaving, you better have your pretty ass standing by my car within the next five minutes, you understand?”

You nod your head. “Yes, but Seokjin can I just—”

“No, you can’t. Grab that beer and finish it.”

With shaky hands you reach down and pick up the bottle, struggling to bring it to your lips because of your trembling. “Don’t you sneak off to go play with yourself either. I’m watching you,” he adds.

“Okay.”

You gulp down the refreshing cold liquid graciously; your mouth is dry and your body is on edge, mourning the loss of such an amazing orgasm. Seokjin takes the unopened beer from your hand and places it beside him for later.

“Look at me.” 

You turn in your chair, swinging your legs over so you can be face to face with him. His hand wraps around your throat while he gives you a stern look—silently reminding you to be on your best behavior. You stare at his plump lips when they come within an inch from yours, wishing for a small kiss that he surprisingly gives to you.

“If this is what your friends call a hot girl summer then they’re fucking delusional. After I fuck your brains out tonight, go pack your shit because I’m gonna take you on a real vacation, alright?”

“Of course, thank you, baby.”

“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart,” he warns.

When Seokjin tells you to go find someone to play with, you stand up as quickly as you can. He slaps your ass before you can depart, and you feel his eyes follow you to the dancefloor. You spot your friends, and one of them immediately pulls you closer for girl talk.

“Did it work?”

“Like a fucking charm,” you answer, looking over your shoulder. “He’s finally taking some time off. He needs a damn break.”

Seokjin watches you from his chair, sipping on his beer in silence, but his aura is more powerful than the bass booming through the speakers. It’s hard to defy him, but someone has to do it. “Girl, you’re brave as hell. He was ready to rip your clothes off and bend you over right out here. Your man really plays no games,” she points out.

You see one of the waitresses from earlier approach him, and when he doesn’t respond she follows his gaze to you. An apologetic smile is the only thing she can offer before she scurries away, and you turn back to your friends with a smirk.

“Neither do I, ladies.”

[angelmavmurdock]

Lock & Key: Part Six - B.B.

WARNINGS: hangman being a sexist asshole (which i don't believe he is but for the plot...).

-

When you all returned to the bar, it was busying up inside. The usual crowds were there from different walks of life, all aviators or friends and family of the navy. You, Hangman, Phoenix, and Bob were sitting in a booth, all talking about football and who you all thought won.

Your top dried pretty quickly with the rising heat inside the bar, despite all the doors being open, letting the mild breeze flow in. There were so many people crammed inside the building that it ramped up the heat a few notches. You were just in your bikini and your top and denim shorts, your sliders fitting loosely on your feet. You hair was shoved up into a messy bun, the salty water causing it to return to its natural form, and without a hairbrush, putting it up was the best you could do.

You were sitting on the inside seat of the booth, getting a great view of the bar and the pool game going on between Rooster and the rest of the pilots. You had zoned out of the football conversation and were just staring at Rooster. His huge biceps bulging beneath the Star Wars graphic t-shirt and his ass that looked amazing every time he bent over to take a shot in his - now dry - jeans.

His sunglasses still hung on the middle of his shirt, dipping it down to see a glimpse of sun-bleached chest hair. You couldn't get the image of his body from your mind. Last time you saw him, he looked nothing like he did now. And you were now blatantly staring at him, admiring the way he moved and knowing just how he looked underneath those clothes.

"Locket?" Hangman waved a hand in front of your face from next to you.

"Hmm?" You snapped back into the conversation looking to the blonde beside you.

"Another drink?" He asked, a playful smirk on his face.

You looked at your empty glass and pushed it towards him, "Yes, thanks."

He looked at you, almost as if he was trying to read your look, before nodding and getting up to go to the bar. You turned nonchalantly back to Phoenix and Bob who were looking at you in a confused, almost scared way.

You furrowed your brows, "What? Is something wrong?"

Phoenix stuttered, "Since when do you and Hangman get along?"

You made a face, "I mean we kind of wordlessly resolved things from yesterday. I wouldn't say we're friends, though. Why?"

Bob looked to Phoenix then back to you, "He just looks at you weird, now. That's all."

You looked between the pilots in front of you, trying to figure out what they were saying. But the alcohol that you'd drank had been going straight to your head, so your judgement was lacking. You had no idea what they were getting at.

"Sorry, what?"

"Do you think he likes you?" Phoenix asked.

Your mouth dropped at the absurdity of the question and as if from no where, Rooster appeared beside Phoenix, pool cue in hand.

"Sorry, what am I missing?" He butted in.

"Nothing at all." You told Rooster, shooting daggers at Phoenix.

"What's going on?" Payback and Cayote suddenly joined the conversation, blocking off the booth.

"Jesus, nothing's going on! Go back to your game." You attempted to shoo the boys away but they weren't having it.

You covered your face with your hands, absolutely mortified at Phoenix's suggestion and the group all piped up, begging you to tell them what was going on.

"We think Bagman likes Maverick Junior." Phoenix said, sipping her drink.

"Phoenix!" You blurted out in horror.

The boys all looked at each other with wide eyes and burst into laughter. You felt your face go red and you groaned, propping your legs up on the seat of the booth and burying your head between your knees.

"I could see it, you know!" Payback exclaimed.

You shook your head in silence, not even looking up.

"Listen, he's a very good looking guy - you're a very good looking girl. I could see it happening." Cayote said, sliding in to sit next to you and nudging you with his arm.

You groaned in response and lifted your head, looking up at everyone with a pout. You scanned everyone's amused face and then you caught Rooster's expression. It was deadpanned and unimpressed. He didn't seem pleased at all at the suggestion of Hangman liking you.

"He doesn't like me, okay? We're enemies." You sighed, putting your feet back on the floor.

"Mitchell, have you ever read romance books? The best couples are always enemies first." Phoenix joked.

You kicked her lightly under the table and she gasped, both of you unable to not laugh. You all burst into laughter but Rooster slid away from the conversation, going back to playing pool. You made a face as he walked away but thankfully he didn't catch it.

"He'll be back any second with my drink, okay? So all of you shut the fuck up and go back to whatever you were doing because you're embarrassing me." You told them all.

Everyone held their hands up in surrender, and backed off, the boys all giggling and laughing at the thought of you and Hangman. You widened your eyes at Bob and Phoenix, sighing in relief as everyone left you alone.

"We're just teasing." Phoenix added with a smile.

You nodded, "I know...but do you really think-"

"Another round has arrived!" Hangman announced, sitting down next to you and handing you your drink.

"Thanks." You said with a smile.

He furrowed his brows, nudging you with his shoulder against yours.

"You okay, sunshine?"

You cringed and helplessly looked to Phoenix for some non-verbal assistance.

"Y-yeah. I'm good. Are you?" You asked him, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly.

"I'm great." He said with a smirk, looking from your lips back to your eyes.

You held eye contact for a beat longer than you would've liked. You shot up, grabbing your drink and announcing you had to talk to Penny.

Hangman shifted, "Oh, okay, let me get out-"

"No it's fine, I can-"

You were just trying to get out as fast as you could, however, you completely misjudged how tight a space it would between Hangman and the table. So as you were awkwardly trying to scoot past him, your ass was practically in his face.

You cursed to yourself, closing your eyes with embarrassment as you had to squeeze past him. Hangman laughed behind you, holding his hands up and hovering them by your hips.

"Listen, if you wanted to give me a lap dance, you could've just asked, sunshine." He laughed.

You resisted the urge to turn around and hit him and finally let yourself free, stumbling as you were released from the tight space. The drink in your hand toppled a little, spilling onto your chest slightly. You gasped at the cool liquid dripping down your skin and you paused, looking down at your white top going see-through again.

The team cringed and 'ooh'ed at your fail, but you regained some composure to just let it go. Your eyes went to Rooster almost immediately like a magnet. His eyes stayed on your face, not even bothering to look at your top. He had a look on his face you weren't sure you had ever seen before. He was unimpressed, his brows pushed together, his lips straight, as if he was confused and studying you.

"Wow, this is a whole show." Hangman commented behind you.

You sighed, turning back to look at him.

"Locket, if you need a hand cleaning that up, you know where to find me." He winked at you, looking you up and down as he took a drink from the beer bottle he was holding.

"Shut the fuck up, Hangman." You spat at him, slamming your drink down on the table behind you.

You shook your hand of the beer that had dripped from the glass. The group oo'd and ahh'd at your attitude, egging him on slightly.

"Oh come on, Locket, it's just a joke. Unless you're into degrading dirty talk, then I'm all in, baby." He smirked up at you.

"Shut up." You said, feeling rage bubbling inside of you.

"Listen, we all know you're here because of your old man. If you really wanted my respect, all you have to do take me to the bathroom and we can sort it out." He licked his lips.

"Listen to her, and shut the fuck up, Bagman." Phoenix piped up, shooting daggers at the blonde.

He shrugged, and you were preparing yourself to pounce on him and beat his ass to the floor. Where this man got his audacity, you'll never fucking know.

"Because we all know your Dad must have had a hand in landing you every single job you've ever had. So you must've had to show your skills somehow, right?" He taunted.

Your blood was boiling and you could feel your heart rate increasing.

Rooster slid off of the edge of the pool table, bracing himself to either grab you or punch that son of a bitch in his smug face.

"I bet you spend more time on your knees than you do in the air, sunshine."

"You motherfucker!" You shouted, launching towards him.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist before you could go any further, the rest of the team shooting up to their feet, shouting at Hangman and getting you as far away from him as possible. Pool cues fell to the floor, commotion rose and Phoenix even had to be pulled back by Cayote from how she was pouncing towards Hangman.

You were being lifted away from the action, the strong pair of hands and the body behind you holding you with ease - despite your kicking and flailing. You knew it was Rooster, you could tell by his silence. The bar was crowded and it had erupted in noise, the music in the background now totally drowned out.

"Put me down!" You shouted, gripping his arms.

You both passed your Dad, looking shocked and confused as he was standing by the bar, too far from the action to have seen what was going on.

"y/n?" Your Dad looked at you.

"I'm taking her home before she - or I - kills Hangman. You need to talk to him, Mav." Rooster, said, before walking you both out of the bar.

He finally set you down on the deck outside. You turned around sharply to look at him.

"What the hell?" You exclaimed, still riled up.

"He's an asshole, don't lower yourself to him." Rooster said, fixing his t-shirt.

You caught a glimpse of his lower abdomen but chose to ignore it.

"He's a sexist pig!"

Rooster stood in front of you, his hands on his hips, looking at you like your Dad. Disappointed and pissed off.

"He's just saying that stuff to rile you up, you should know that."

You scoffed, "I do know that, Bradshaw, but he took it too far."

Your voice cracked a little and Roosters demeaner changed slightly, softening his stance to cross his arms over his chest.

"I know," His voice lowered, matching his body language.

"But you can't satisfy him by giving him the reaction he wants. Because now he's gonna be happy and his ego's going to be boosted."

"That's not my fault, Rooster."

He sighed, "I know...just, next time, maybe don't try and fight him."

You smirked a little and so did he. You both took a beat in silence. The night was dark but the moon was shining in the clear sky. It was still warm and the relaxing waves from the sea serenaded you as you and Rooster stood outside.

You walked to the wooden railing of the bar and leaned your forearms onto it, taking a deep breath in and out. Rooster watched you from behind, trying to ignore how you bent over slightly, letting your shorts ride up your upper thighs.

Rooster ended up at the opposite side of the railing, leaning on it so he was still facing the door of the bar, watching in case anyone decided to come out.

He leaned his head back, cracking his neck either side and sharply lifting it when he heard footsteps coming towards them.

"Sweetie, are you alright?"

Your Dads voice startled you. You turned around and saw him coming out of the bar, standing between you and Rooster. You sighed and nodded.

He looked worried. And pissed.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? If I could kick him out, I would." He said.

You smiled weakly, "It's okay, he's just looking to wind me up."

Your Dad shook his head, looking down at the ground before looking back to you.

"I've warned him that if he does anything to you again, he's out."

You nodded, "Thanks, Dad."

Your Dad almost didn't notice Rooster. They both awkwardly and silently shared a look and a nod.

"I think Rooster should take you back home. I don't want you on your bike when you've been drinking."

You and Rooster hesitantly looked to each other, before sheepishly looking back at your father. He pointed a finger to Rooster.

"Walking home." He reiterated.

Rooster nodded, "Yes, sir."

Your Dad took a moment or two to take his eyes off of Rooster, giving him a fair warning to do exactly as he says. He eventually turned his attention back to you and walked forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Get home safe, I won't be too far behind you."

"Waiting to take Pen home?" You asked, a slight smirk on your lips.

Your Dad fought back a smile, "Maybe. I'm a gentleman."

"Uh-huh..."

He shook his head with a grin and waved you and Rooster goodbye before heading back inside.

It was just you two left, now. You both looked at each other and grinned. You swear you could see him blushing a little but you didn't know if it was sunburn or not.

"Ready to go, ma'am?" Rooster asked, quirking an eyebrow.

You curtsied, "Yes, sir."

He smirked and he gestured for you to walk down the stairs first. You passed him, giving him a lingering scent of your floral perfume. He followed you down and you both started walking side by side down the quiet dirt road.

The night was still and hushed, the waves clapping against the shore and the occasional wind chime making a harmonic tune when the gentle breeze passed by and in between all of the houses by the beach. Other than the sounds of the beach, and the distant music and chatter from the bar, you and Rooster were silent.

A car approached in the distance at a steady speed. You felt a hand slide onto the small of your back, and you looked up to Rooster, who was moving you from being on the inside of the road, to the outside, out of danger. You smiled to yourself at the small gesture and you let him shift you. His hand lingered on your back as the car passed, and then he dropped his hand. You swear you could feel his hand stuttering over your skin for just a second, as if he was fighting to take it off you.

"So...uh-"

Rooster attempted to start a conversation but you both whipped your heads around at the loud, startling sound of a motorbike engine revving behind you.

"See you in the morning, assholes!" A voice screamed at you from the bike as it whizzed past like a rocket.

It was Hangman, with Cayote hitching a ride on the back. He whooped and cheered as they rode past. The fright it gave you, sent your hands automatically to Rooster's arm beside you, instinctively gripping on for dear life. Once you both had registered what and who it was, you relaxed, sighing in relief.

"Jesus, they shouldn't be riding that drunk." Rooster exhaled.

You looked up at him. And he looked down at you. Your hand was still holding onto his bicep. He glanced at the way your small hand could barely fit around his arm, and then he looked back into your eyes, with an eyebrow raised. As if he was surprised you hadn't removed it. But you were tipsy enough to engage in physical contact, so...you didn't take your hand away. You just wrapped it around, holding on even tighter.

He had to fight to hold back a smile, tucking his hand into his front pocket to make it more comfortable for the both of you to walk like that.

"Bit more muscle there than there was ten years ago." You commented with a playful smirk, looking up at him.

"It's not been ten years." He stated.

"Nearly, though."

He huffed.

"It wasn't because of the last night, was it?"

You didn't look up at him but you could feel his eyes on you.

"What? The seven minutes in heaven? No." You answered.

"Hey, it was more than seven minutes." He defended.

"Hmm."

"At the time, I remember that being my record."

"It was seven minutes of absolute bliss, Rooster." You said, tapping his arm with your fingers.

He stayed silent for a moment.

"Why are you calling me that?"

You looked up at him, "It's your callsign."

"I know but...we're by ourselves. You don't have to call me that, now."

You smirked and looked ahead of you again.

"I just don't want you to think this relationship is anything other than professional."

"Too late, Mitchell."

"Bradhsaw." You looked up to him with a cheeky smile.

"Mitchell." He countered.

"Bradley."

His lips parted at the sound of his name.

"y/n."

You both went silent, looking at each other with some sort of look that didn't need any words. You broke eye contact first, going back to looking down at your feet.

"Sometimes I forget my actual name. Dad's starting to call me Locket out of training."

"Does he know the origin of your call sign?" Rooster asked, leaning into you a little.

"Hmm, no. And I don't plan on telling him."

"Has he not asked?"

"Oh yeah, he has. But he thinks it's about the actual locket he gave me when I was younger and not the metaphorical locket that is my vagina."

Rooster snorted, "I've been in both."

You scoffed, looking up at him.

"Shut up, seven minutes hardly counts." You retorted.

"I've been in your physical locket for longer." He said.

"That's true, though you're not in it anymore. I actually can't find it. It's lost." You sighed.

"Hmm, that's sad." He hummed.

Another few moments of silence hung between the two of you. And you were desperately grabbing at your brain for something to talk about.

"What about your call sign? Do you forget your own name?"

You cringed. Bad conversation starter, y/n.

"Yeah, I guess." Rooster started.

Oh, maybe not.

"Sometimes here, I like to forget it. Sometimes I just want to be Rooster. I don't want to be Bradley or a Bradshaw."

You could feel his arm tense a little. You looked up at him. The way his face adorned the moonlight and his scars somehow complimented his cheek and jaw. You looked to the moustache and smiled.

"You look just like him, you know?" You said softly with a smile.

He looked down at you for a moment. He looked from your smiling lips to your soft, dilated, eyes, and he looked back to the road silently.

"You really do. He'd be proud of you. So would Carole."

He smiled, looking down at his shoes. You squeezed his arm in encouragement.

"Your Dad must be proud of you, huh." He said, changing the subject.

You smiled, "Yeah, I guess. It's quite the name to live up to, though."

He nodded, "I understand. I'm just known as Goose's son to all the admirals and stuff, cause they knew him, you know?"

"Yeah, it's the same with Dad. Although, your situation is different."

Rooster scoffed a laugh, "It's laced with sympathy and awkwardness. Everyone hates death. No one likes talking about it. So, they kind of tread on eggshells around me."

You bit your lip, not sure on how to respond. You and Rooster would have deep conversations about his parents and being a pilot when you were younger, but it's been so long that you feel different around him. Because things are different now.

"Are you still pissed at Dad?" You asked, referring to how your father pulled Rooster's paper's from the academy 8 years ago.

"Yep." He answered shortly.

"Just so you know, I had no idea why he did it. I don't know what was going through his head." You told him.

"It's fine, it's not your fault."

"I just wish I could have talked him out of it but he told me after it was done."

"It's not your fault, y/n." Rooster said firmly.

"It's his fault. And he refuses to talk about it." You scoffed.

"I think I have reasons in my head that could be true but now he's here and he's our instructor it's just...weird. I don't think my grudge is going away any time soon. So...sorry."

You shook your head, "No need to apologise. It's fair, and he knows that. But I do think he's wanting to put in the work. He really cares about you."

Rooster nodded, "I know."

"He wants a relationship with you, Brad."

It slipped out before you could catch it. You hope he didn't notice the old nickname. But when you looked up to him, he was wearing a huge smirk.

"Why are you smirking?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"You called me Brad."

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes.

You reached your house and Rooster continued to walk you up the stairs to the deck.

"We're becoming friends again. I can feel it." He said.

"No we're not." You disagreed, holding back a smile.

"Yes we are. Don't fight it. It's natural, baby." He bit his lip and shimmied a little.

"Jesus Christ," You rolled your eyes, unlacing your arm from his.

"Come on, friend, dance with me." He smiled, his lip tucked between his teeth.

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised. He was now doing some dance moves you hadn't seen since high school, right in front of you...on your porch.

"I'm not your friend, Bradshaw." You told him matter-of-factly.

He groaned, holding a hand out to you, "Yes you are. Come on. Dance with me."

"There's no music, hotshot." You smirked, watching him as he kept moving.

"I don't care. That's never stopped us before, come on."

"No." You shook your head.

He kept his hand outstretched and a hopeful look in his eye. You really wanted to be stubborn and hate him and this stupid situation but you couldn't hide it for long.

You rolled your eyes and slapped your hand into his, "Fine."

He spun you under his arm and you both started dancing like mad men, your sliders and his sneakers causing a racket on the wooden deck. You giggled and laughed and he did, too. And whatever this was, whether it was a friendship or nothing at all, you were enjoying it.

He twirled you too many times to count, and with your already tipsy state, you ended up tripping into his arms.

You both stilled, listening to each other catch their breath. His hands stayed at your waist, holding you upright. He chuckled as you both stilled, placing your hands on his forearms.

"Oh man, it's nearing bed time for me I think." You hummed, holding onto his arms.

He nodded, standing up straight and keeping his wide hands on your waist. You looked up to him, licking your lips and looking at his stupidly beautiful face.

He looked at you like he always did. That piercing look that could burn a hole through you if he really tried. His dark eyes looked almost black in the moonlight and you didn't miss how his fingers twitched tightly against your waist. You slid your hands up his arms, slowly, feeling every bump and ridge, until you came to his shoulders.

You hummed under your breath, looking at his exposed collarbones and the top of his chest, his sunglasses still weighing his top down.

"Does this mean you're admitting to us being friends?" He whispered to you.

You looked back into his eyes, your bottom lip trapped in your teeth.

"I'd say we're...acquaintances." You whispered back.

He smirked, "I'll take that."

His eyes looked straight into yours, as if he was trying to read your mind. You could feel your breath getting quicker and your chest getting heavier. His hands were still on your waist. You wanted them to move south. Why wasn't he budging? Were you not being obvious enough with your shortened breath and your 'fuck me' eyes?

Touch me, you almost wanted to say.

But he slid his hands from you before you could even think about it. Your breath hitched, and your hands moved from his shoulders quickly.

"Goodnight, Mitchell." He said as he walked down the steps of your porch.

You waited until he turned back to look at you, "Goodnight, Bradshaw."

He bowed to you, holding a hand over his chest so his sunglasses wouldn't fall as he dipped his torso down then up.

"y/n."

You curtsied, "Bradley."

He looked you from your toes to your hair and then focused on your eyes, before holding a hand up with a grin, and walking away.

You watched him leave until you physically couldn't see him anymore.

You rushed to grab the key from under the mat, shoving it in the lock, unlocking the door, getting in the house and slamming it behind you. You threw the key into the bowl beside the door and you leaned back, letting your body rest against the door.

You didn't stop smiling until you drifted into sleep.

-

Taglist: (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you.)

@mak-32 @anolddayslover @alana4610 @n3ssm0nique @daryldixonstorm @livychan @luckyladycreator2​ @justatiredhuman​ @surely-sherly​ @marvelsvalhalla @imyourpossession @honey-leclerc @wherearetheavacadosat @welpthathappened​ @edgypickles​ @kylpkfbe @lillizxzz @lilpeekabooze​ @daisyhollyxox​ @piceous21​ @hey-its-kayla-claire​ @shrimping-for-all @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo 

[lunaekalenda]

SCENE II: 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔡𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯?

summary: bokuto was almost sure you were there to cheer on him, but all your smiles were directed to the captain of the Nekoma Team. What a shame they are friends, and friends share.

warnings: nothing is canon here lol (names of the high school teams are still the same but on national league (?)). consensual filming. use of words like pretty, beautiful, . voyeurism, idk it's long to be plotless.

The stadium is full, people cheering on both teams can be seen on the steps, screaming, hugging each other, celebrating every point as if it was decisive. You weren't a fan of volleyball, but it's true that your brother insist every time that he could do better if you're there cheering on him. Although, it's true that there's something that has caught your interest during the adult's league.

Bokuto thinks it's him. The one that makes you follow the ball with such a tension, he feels your eyes on him with every move. He has been giving you side looks from time to time. You're pretty. Way too pretty to be ignored. And with those eyes fixed on him, there's nothing he can do but flex his amazing abilities in front of you.

Kuroo, on the other side, already knows you, from the long afternoons at your house with your brother, when they practiced on the garden and you brought them freshly made smoothies with a cute smile and quiet voice. And he was eager to identify your shirt's color, to know on what side you were standing today. He focuses on serving, blocking and annotating. He has time later to say hi properly.

The match lasts longer than you expected, but finishes with a big victory of your brother's team over the other one, dressed in white. They smile to the others as the results are announced. You try to find your brother between all the people, to indicate him you will wait outside. It takes you a second, but in the moment your gaze falls on your brother, he asks you to go and meet his high school friends with a signal. You leave the steps and walk quietly towards the team. You know a couple of them, of course, but the other team is almost unknown for you. Kuroo gets a step closer, but it's a white-haired guy who takes your hand.

"Bokuto Kōtarō at your serve, beautiful." His eyes are flirty and his side smile is directed towards you. You feel heat on your cheeks as he releases your hand softly.

"Nice to meet you. You made a good game." You say. Bokuto's eyes scan your body softly, stopping on the right curves and the right spots, admiring it so shamelessly while your brother was helping to order and put everything on place. His eyes go back from the red fabric of your clothes to your eyes, a raised brow and a smirk.

"Although you seemed to know who to cheer on today, hm?" this time, is a familiar voice who sounds as an answer.

"Come on, Bokuto. Everyone knew that we were gonna win." Kuroo's arm catches your shoulders, making you smile towards him, and Bokuto sees it. It's almost a second before you fade it away, but his eyes were faster. You like Kuroo. And he can't help but think if it might be reciprocal and both of you are too dumb to get that the other feels the same. Although, seeing it better, the look he gives you back, the side smile you give him... Bokuto catches the real feeling. Tension. Something way more feral. He looks at you as if the only thing stopping from taking you to the locker room is your consent.

You desire each other, and he's never wrong on that. He'll have to wait if he want to have his opportunity with you, unless Kuroo doesn't mind to share. If anything happens between you two, of course.

And, somehow, you two ended alone in the changing rooms.

"Now I get why you come so much to volleyball matches." His voice sounds sweet as he slides his hands over your body, finding every spot that makes you tremble, taking you closer to him, lips ghostly touching yours as he speaks. "Such a little opportunist." His tongue makes your lips' shape slowly and you lean towards him, bodies colliding softly as your hands wander around his toned abs and the V shape that the sporty shorts leave to your gaze. His t-shirt keeps falling on your hands, so you're quick to take it away, pulling slowly to make him notice what you want to do. He's way taller than you, and taking his t-shirt by yourself would be impossible. He gives you a smirk before a fast kiss, still looking at you in the eyes and holding your hands, that are still gripped to his shirt. "What do you want, pretty?" You avoid his gaze, feeling shy, but he takes your chin, making you look at him again. "I'm not a seer, baby. And you can speak clearly what you want me to do, can't you?" The phone is still on the lockers where you left it earlier. It could be a time until you'll be able to meet like this again, so, having a memory if this will make the wait way shorter.

"Take it off, Tetsu, please." your voice is deep from the desire, and you can't even recognize yourself. Your fingertips burn and your spine gets a electric sensation when his big hand rubs your waist.

"A clothing for a clothing, does it sound good for you, love?" you nod and he takes your lips on his once again, before parting with a sigh, taking his red t-shirt out with a movement. You let out a little exhalation at the sight of strong, hard muscles right against you hand when he presses it under his hot one, sliding it softly. Your breaths are mixed and both your gazes are fixed on your hands, tangled. He takes the free one to your cheek, kissing you again intensely. He releases you to grip to your t-shirt, red as his, and with a little pull you part. He takes it away from your body slowly, letting the fabric caress and tickle softly your skin, making your back arch towards him and you open your mouth in a silent moan when his hot fingers take your bare skin next to his again. His eyes are darkened with lust as they travel from your belly button to the cleveage. He lowers his head until his lips and teeth bite on your breasts, following the line that the cup of the bra makes against your skin. His pants go next as you part from his lips with a sweet smile, hands finding the shorts elastic as you get on your knees, slowly taking them down. His arm rests against the wall and he looks down at your hands massaging him from above the black underwear. He smiles softly. "You're so hot..." his whisper gets trunked by a little moan when you lick the fabric, above the wet spot. His free hand flies to your head, caressing your cheek, pushing you a little harder towards his length, still covered. He feels so aroused, it's such a tempting image to see you kneeling in front of him.

Tempting for both him and the guy in the shower room, that gets a peek through the door of your busy lips kissing his tip through the black fabric. His hand caresses his bulge a little harder, still not in the main show to jerk himself to. He tries to be silent, but he's already so hard he's not sure he'll be able to muffle the moans.

Kuroo makes you stand up again, searching your lips with much more necessity. He whispers between kisses.

"Are you sure your brother won't search you?" you shake your head. You told him you were gonna help on the girls changing room to a friend that plays next hour. You hope it to work. His lips find yours again, aggressively, tongue sliding inside. His hands take away your jeans as fast as he can, hands now touching the revealing lace of your underwear. He parts with a smile, lust and playfulness shining on his eyes. "You really did prepare yourself, didn't you?" He cups your ass with his hands to attract you closer, and you dedicate him a silly smile.

"Maybe." his face gets close again, but he only leaves a peck before talking in a whisper, again. "You know so well how to make me hard, don't you?" one of his hands leave your butt and rests on the panties, giving a long caress down, touching where you more wanted him. You body arches towards his as his lips leave a ghost kiss on yours, almost mocking you. He takes the lace a little to a side, being able to test, with expert fingers, how wet you already are. And, for his own good, you're soaking. He smiles before getting closer again, another fierce kiss pressed on your mouth, tongue exploring your mouth as good as his fingers caress your puffy folds. He wants to sit on that bench and make you sit on his face so bad, but he selected this spot to be covered in case someone enters. He will have to leave it for another time, sadly. He makes you hurry, taking your bra up and your panties down until they're on your ankles. His boxers disappear as well, between rushed kisses and shared moans. The pace fastened and the atmosphere got hotter quickly. His hands take your thighs, panties hanging from your ankle and your fingers tangled on his hair. You need him so bad, you try to move, with your legs gripped, against his cock, failing. He laughs. "Oh, do it."

He smiles, a brow raising as he gives a fake thrust that only makes both of you moan because of the friction.

"Say please." he says, words pronounced against your lips. "Beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you" his last whisper sends electricity through your spine, and you kiss him, so needly, so damn needly. His lips feel like cold breeze in summer. He gives another fake thrust, another painfully good thrust were his cock slide against your folds. You moan, and it made Bokuto palm himself harder. Damn, he should be there too. Two mouths feel better than one. Four hands do better than two. He opens the door a little more, getting to listen your sweet, breathless voice.

"Please, Tetsu. Please."

He takes both your legs on his arms stronger, your back totally against the wall and his tip teasing your folds softly, a moan escaping from his mouth when, using one arm to keep you in place, he puts himself on your entrance. Your body is folded against the blue wall, and his lips cover yours as he enters slowly on you. Both your legs hang from the sides of his body, and move with every thrust he gives you. He starts at a slow pace, but your moans and the way you clench around him makes him loose his mind. "Harder, Tetsu, do it harder."

Oh, fuck. You seemed so cute, so innocent, and that's how you beg for him to break you. Bokuto didn't expect this, he was even waiting for the most vanilla session he could ever watch, but damn. His fist follows Kuroo's pace as he bites his shirt, trying to drown the moans and trying to not make both of you suspect of his presence. He feels so close, so damn close... He can't help but moan when he releases, but both of you seem too entertained to notice. He cleans his hands the best he can before leaving but, before, he wants to make sure that he was there, just for fun, for pure arousal. Maybe because of the adrenaline of the orgasm. He walks towards both of you, still too concentrated on each other to repair on his presence.

"Huh? Having fun without inviting, Tetsuro?" a deep voice asks. You try to take him away from your skin, but Kuroo keeps licking and kissing. The white-haired guy is standing there, without worrying about your state - both legs useless, panties hanging, back against the wall and hands around his neck-. "An incredible cutie and you wanted to keep it for yourself. How selfish." Bokuto takes his bag and leaves with a gesture. "Remember to invite next time!" he says, before leaving. How much time has he been there? Has been Kuroo aware of his presence? Has he seen everything? The thought makes something hot travel to your core. Being seen like this, with the brain intoxicated by such a man, filled with him and moaning his name. You moan harder, feeling your throat sore, and your partner smiles. "Discovering that he saw you begging for my cock has you dripping wet, love." his thrusts are now harder, even more than before, as you try to rearrange yourself on his arms. "We may habe to invite him next time, what do you think?" Kuroo's words fill your brain, but it is too full of him to understand anything. Your lips suck softly on his shoulder, drowning the moans on his skin. "I might need to reward him for making my girl that wet." his breath starts to be erratic as his thrust are, tongue licking up your neck and hands gripping harder to the flesh of your legs. "Come on, cum, pretty. You deserve it after the good show you gave him." It's not long until you're screaming and trembling against his body, with both your fluids sliding down your legs. You both take a second to catch your breaths, smiling at the other. He leaves a peck again, and another one. He smiles softly before releasing you, letting your feet touch the cold floor. His hands grip your hips to avoid you from falling, as your legs are still sore. His smile is luminous before he gets closer to gove you another kiss, hungrier, deeper this time. "You alright?" he asks, foreheads resting against the other and lips still too close. You nod. "Need me to kick that asshole?" you smile, but shake your head.

"It made things kinda... hornier." Tetsuro smiles bigger before kissing you again. Was he always this affectionate? You can't remember, but you like it. You like him.

"Little exhibitionist." he whispers, before getting his lips closer to yours again. "My little exhibitionist."

[8aji]

the ask game is such a cute idea! okay so

character: tsukki bc ik you love him

and random word: charging

prompt enemies to lovers! tsukishima kei x reader where you try to rile each other up for whatever reason you can find; today? the power outlet at the library.

send me a character and the randomest, first word you think of and ill write a prompt based on it! (i may write a lil blurb based on it as well!)

“What percentage is it at?”

“Low.”

Silence. Only the sound of aggressive typing, book pages being turned with such despair the fragile paper was under a constant threat of being ripped, and muffled groans of pain, filled the library—It was exam week after all—but other than that, nothing. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream at his seemingly condescending tone, though to be fair, you knew how he acted whenever you asked for anything, or existed too close to him, the mutual feelings of ugh for each other well known, so you asking to use the outlet was basically an act of self-sabotage.

“It’s about to die, Can I, please, use the outlet?”

“No,” he sighed, shaking his head, pretend to be bother by your presence but secretly enjoying it. “I’m charging my phone”

Silence, again, and this time you could clearly see the SLIVER of a smirk graze his stupidly hydrated lips, and despite his glasses blocking your view of his eyes, you’re sure they were shaped like slight crescent moons, shimmering all pretty, just like they do every time you have an unpleasant encounter and he manages to get the upper hand. Infuriating, You’re sure he’s doing it on purpose, holding the outlet hostage so you had to beg for it, but you wouldn’t falter, you’ll never falter around Tsukishima Kei. 

And now, you aren’t nosy per se, curious? Maybe curious, but definitely not nosy. Curious and incredibly smart, very ingenious if you may, which meant you didn’t hesitate side-eying his phone screen the when a flurry of messages lit up his phone. What you saw almost made you gasp.

“Its fully charged”

“Huh, I didn’t realise.”

And yet he didn’t unplug his stupid charger, he just continued writing away on his laptop, likely trying to reduce the words on his stupid essay because he’s stupid and always writes way past the maximum word count, and you know this because…?

“Can’t you just unplug it?”

“Just use another one.” He sighed, letting his head rest against the back of his chair. He was getting annoyed, at you nonetheless; good.

“Can’t, all of them are occupied”

“That’s impossible—”

“Its exams week,” you pressed, “everyone’s basically camping out at the library.”

“Then ask someone else?”

Twirling the thought in your head, sliding it side to side like a marble, you could hear it clink against your skull. Suppressing the Cheshire smile threatening to split your lips, you let out an overtly exaggerated sigh, slumping your shoulders forward just a bit, enough for him to notice.

“Okay.”

He had to do a double take, watching as your very pretty hands rolled up your charger.

“What?”

“Yeah if you wont give it up, I’ll ask someone else.” You brushed him off, taking your time putting your laptop and books back into your bag, those that you had prematurely taken out when you thought he’d give up his place easily.

“Wait!” He exclaimed. He almost knocked down his water bottle with how fast he stood up, making you jump in surprise. The noise only made him want to curl up into himself as the other students started shushing him; he hadn’t realised he spoke that loudly. He cleared his throat, feeling warmth creep up his neck and cheeks, he tried to play it off by adjusting his now crooked glasses. “I mean, yeah, you can have it,” he couldn’t help but look to the side as your eyes met, he couldn’t hide behind the lenses anymore. “I was going anyway, I don’t care.”

© 2022 SHINACHIRO ; Do not repost my work. Do not recommend my work outside of tumblr. Do not translate my work.

[twistnet]

34+35 [ pete mitchell ]

⋯ KINKTOBER PROMPT ; day 01 [ 69 ]

⋯ WARNINGS ; female!reader, smut [ face-sitting, 69 sex position, oral sex [ m + f receiving ], marking, cum, handjobs, vaginal fingering ] + mature language 

⋯ NOTE ; this content is strictly for those 18+ ; any minors // ageless // blank blogs interacting with this post // masterlist will be blocked

pete’s hands had been roaming long before the two of you had even called it a night. what had started off as an innocence little hand positioned at the small of you back as he guided you through the packed bar, turned into hands running along the meat of your thighs and heavy bedroom eyes with each beer he downed -- and he was only two beers and a whiskey in at this point.

“is there something you want?” you finally question after feeling his fingers dip to skate the stem of your jeans that ran along your inner thighs. pete had practically perked up at the question, hiding his smile behind the lip of his beer bottle, eyes shining with slight mischief, “i was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to ask...”

you snort at his comment, shaking your head at his antics -- something that he constantly likes to remind you as one of the reasons you feel in love with him in the first place. sure, even as the years had pasted, pete had managed to calm some. but that still didn’t stop him from having his moments.

so, after sparing a glance to the pool table surrounded by rowdy naval aviators and finding them too enthralled with the game at hand, you pulled a twenty from your wallet and slid it across the bar top, “thanks for the drinks, pen.” the bar owner shoots you a bright smile, uttering her goodbyes as you look over at your husband.

“you ready to go?” pete questions the second you stand, causing you to raise a brow as he smiles over at you, “isn’t that what you wanted?”

pete nods, “yes, but i wasn’t going to rush you if you wanted to stay a little longer. what i want to do can wait until you’re ready, sweetheart.” your eyes narrow at the use of the nickname, the one really only reserved for more intimate moments -- namely bedroom activities or sweet moments that lead to.

pete’s eyes shine brightly, mouth quirking up into a slight smile as he takes the full brunt of our glare. laughing only when you huff and grasp his hand in yours and begin dragging him towards the parking lot, “you’re something else, mitchell...”

pete chuckles, sliding his aviators on before extending a hand towards you, “but you love it... otherwise you wouldn’t have married me.” he jerks slightly when you lightly slap his shoulder, climbing onto the back of his bike and pressing yourself right up against his back. arms wrapped around his middle with your chin resting atop his shoulder.

the ride home isn’t long, as pete had a knack for speeding and it seemed no trip was ever longer than twenty minutes. he’s quick to hop off the second the bike is parked alongside the others, extending a hand out for you to take to aid in your dismount.

then, his tugging you into his arms, chests pressed together as his hands roman along the expanse of your back and his lips slotting against your own. nails dig into the material of his bomber, scratching along the numerous patches that line the sleeves as you pull him impossibly closer to your form.

“mav...” you moan against his lips as the previously roaming hands grasp handfuls of your ass, pressing you against the growing tent at the front of his levi’s. his only response is a deep chuckle, before he’s pulling away with a bright smile and tugging you towards the bedroom at the back of the old hanger.

the second the door is closed, he’s on you again. guiding you back towards the bed as his lips trail down the side of your neck. fingers find themselves tangled in the short strands of his hair, this time pulling a moan from him before the two of you fall back against the mattress.

pete stands back, slipping the bomber jacket from his shoulders with the white t-shirt following in close second. a smile gracing his lips as you sit up, hands grabbing at his jeans. pulling his belt loose and popping open he front of his jeans as his own fingers drop to the hem of your shirt with an urging noise.

“looking a little overdressed, sweetheart...” he comments as your hands finally push the fabric off his hips, letting them fall to the floor. catching your hand before you can rid him off his boxers and pulling you into a fervent kiss. slipping his tongue into your mouth with a satisfied groan.

“then you should change that...” you mutter against his lips, nearly groaning at the way his face seems to darken at your words. hands push at your shoulders, guiding you back less than elegantly back towards the mattress before pete’s climbing on top of you.

he’s muttering something under his breath, partnering it with a small shake his his head before his fingers rake your t-shirt up your torso and over your head in one swoop. the offending garment tossed to some odd corner of the room before he does the same with your bra. then, his focus turns to your jeans. and in a similar fashion, both your jeans and panties are guided down the length of your legs -- with some help from you before joining the growing pile of clothes.

“who’s overdressed now?” you snark, brow raised as you look between your forms, noting the boxers that still cover him. he only chuckles in response, shooting you a dazzling smile as the pads of his fingers brush against your cunt, spreading the wetness that’s gathered there, “you don’t seem to mind too much.”

he draws back, ignoring the soft whimper that leaves your throat when the pressure from his fingers disappears. instead, he quickly kicks off his boxers and moves to climb into the bed beside you.

you eye him curiously as he settles himself up against the headboard, before waving you on over, “come ride my face, sweetheart.” he smiles, eyes widening when you seem to sputter at his request -- not seeming to believe him one bit.

“this - this is what you had planned for the night?” you question, thinking back to the moment at the bar when he was feeling you up. he shrugs, smile still evident on his face, “it’s part of what i want to do... now stop wasting time and get up here.”

he watches each of your movements with rapt attention, groaning when you straddle his chest and shift to get your bearings. immediately, his hands fly to your hips, gently coaxing you up higher while providing some stability for you.

“come on, sweetheart, just up a little more...” pete smiles, waving you forward with his hands as you slide up his torso until he has you positioned over his mouth. pete sucks in a deep breath, taking in your scent before his green eyes flick up to where you’re watching him intently, “i would hold onto something if i were you...”

he pulls your hips flush against his mouth, lips closing around your swollen bud before giving a harsh suck that has your hands scrambling for purchase at the top of the headboard.

“mav!” you moan, head dropping between your shoulders as his tongue pushes past your folds, licking over your slit with his nose bumping into your clit every time his tongue slips into you.

green eyes watch with pure enjoyment as your face scrunches in the most pleasurable way possible, moans and whimpers tumbling from your lips with each flick of his tongue. thighs tensing ever so slightly around his head as your hips twitch and attempt to follow the motions of his tongue. 

he grins against you, continuing to flick and suck at the same tempo with his nose consistently hitting your clit, wanting nothing more than for your teetering release to spill over his face.

and even through your pleasure-hazed mind, an idea springs into your mind that has you shakily lifting yourself from pete’s face, “wanna try something...” you mutter before sucking in a breath to gather your thoughts, plainly ignoring the confused look laid across pete’s features until you sit up on wobbly knees and turn yourself around. there's nothing sexy about the way you stumble back to kneeling over his face, narrowly falling down in the process had it not been for the way pete’s hands gripped your hips to steady you.

“i think i know what you’re trying to do, sweetheart...” he mumbles, flashing you a big grin when you glance at him over your shoulder. he licks his lips, groaning softly as his tongue catches a taste of you on his bottom lip before he’s pushing you down gently to lay your front against his own -- you’re face hovering right over his erect, and leaking cock.

the position gives him the picture sight of your dripping cunt, barely hovering out of reach but the second he lifts his head from the mattress, it’s all within reach. he hisses before he gets the chance to taste you, hips jerking up into the hand you already have wrapped around his length.

“oh, sweetheart...” he groans heavily, practically melting back into the mattress as you guide your hand up and down along his length, nearly loosing all control when your tongue swipes along the tip of his cockhead. tasting the pre-cum that had gathered before pulling him into your mouth with ease.

“oh!” the moan is throaty, paired with the feeling of euphoria washing down the length of his body as you pull more of him into your mouth. so, dazed out over what you’re doing to him, that he almost forgets what he’s supposed to be doing.

the second his tongue slips back through your folds, he’s not sure how he managed to not blow his load down your throat when you had moaned around his length. his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your hips as he continued to give you pleasure with his tongue. slipping in two fingers to press against your sweet spot as his tongue flickered against your clit.

you moaned with a gasp, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as you pulled off pete’s cock for a second -- hand still sliding along his length as you sobbed softly against his hip.

“just a little more, sweetheart...” pete coos from behind you, rounding out his comment with a harsh such to your clit that as your nails digging into his thigh before you manage to catch your breath and guide his cock back into your mouth.

it’s not long until pete looses it completely, coming with a heavy groan against your cunt as his spills into your mouth. hips jerking until the last of of his come fills your mouth, before you swallow dutifully. 

his fingers continue to press against your sweet spot, until your walls constrict around them and your own release covers his fingers and mouth. his fingers fall from your cunt, tongue replacing them as he laps up anything he could, before dropping his fingers into his mouth with a pleasured moan.

your head drops against his thigh, chest heaving as you slowly come down from your high. only moving when pete’s hands grasp your shoulders to move you into a move comfortable position beside him.

lips press against your forehead, arms pulling you against his chest as your legs tangle together, “definitely not what i had planned for tonight, but a much appreciated surprise.” pete smiles, nuzzling against your temple until he’s pulling you up from bed moments later to guide you into a bath.

blog navigation ⇢ [ kinktober masterlist ]

[blueskrugs]

closure | Sidney Crosby

happy (belated) birthday sid, sorry your present is an angsty fic. 

I started this one a year and a half ago, picked it back up a few weeks ago to try and get it done by 8/7, wrote 2000 words, decided to change half of it, went to summer camp for a week, got writer’s block for one last scene, and now we’re here. finally.

length: 4.5k words

It’s been a long time And seeing the shape of your name Still spells out pain

Margaret Thomas didn’t hate Sidney Crosby. No, that required too much energy. Margaret would just rather not think about him, which was easier said than done. He was no longer “Sid the Kid,” but he was still a force to be reckoned with on the ice. Sometimes he seemed inescapable—there were commercials featuring him running on ESPN, and it seemed like at least once a week he pulled off some ridiculous feat that only Sidney Crosby could do that was in all the highlight reels for days. It wasn’t for lack of trying on her part, though; Margaret didn’t watch much hockey these days, and her ties with the hockey world had been severed as abruptly as their relationship. Margaret hadn’t quite moved on, but she was okay again. 

Margaret wondered sometimes who knew all of the details of their breakup all those years ago. Her relationship with Sid had been as quiet as Sid could keep it, but she had been there for the Cups, for the gold medals. Those memories, those pictures, would go down in history alongside his name, engraved in silver and gold. It had been a cute story once, the boy who saved the Penguins falls in love with a girl from Pittsburgh, settles down and sticks around. That’s how it was supposed to go, at least.

Margaret is surprised when she gets a letter in the mail, mixed in amongst junk and bills. Who sends letters anymore? The return address is unfamiliar, but the careful, spidery handwriting spelling out her name and the little “SPC” in the corner is as familiar as her own.

Of course Sid would send a letter, after all these years, after cutting off all contact after the break-up, stubbornly old-fashioned person that he was. She was annoyed that that thought was still laced with fondness underneath the bitterness. Margaret wondered, too, how he’d gotten her address; Margaret had moved since the breakup, and she didn’t keep in contact with anyone on the team or their wives enough to warrant ever sending a Christmas card. 

Margaret carefully slides her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulls out the letter inside. It, too, was handwritten, because of course it was. Margaret takes a deep breath and begins to read.

I’m sure you’re surprised to be hearing from me after all these years. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought about reaching out, but I didn’t think you’d ever want to hear from me. I’ve even started writing this a few times, but I could never get the words right.

Margaret scoffs, more than a little bitter. She wonders what was so important to finally make him reach out after all these years. She briefly thinks of crumpling up the letter and tossing it in the trash, but her curiosity got the better of her. Margaret keeps reading.

I wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way things ended between us. It wasn’t fair to you. I wish I could’ve done it differently, or not done it at all, but there’s no way to change the past, is there? I didn’t realize it at the time, but I probably really hurt you. I should’ve apologized a long time ago.

Sid’s words were uncovering a hurt Margaret thought she’d buried deep long ago. He was right, though, there was no changing the past. She brushes away a tear before it can land on the sheet of paper in her hand. There was more to the letter.

I’ll be playing in my 1250th game soon. They’re treating it like a big milestone. Jen’s been talking about rounding up some people for interviews or something. I saw your name on a list and wanted to give you a head’s up before she called. 

Margaret remembered the videos from Sid’s 1000th game. No one had reached out to her to make a video for Sid that time. She doesn’t know what she would’ve said, anyway.

I don’t know what she’ll ask you to do, but I want you to know that you’re not obligated to do anything. You certainly don’t owe me anything. 

He had that right. He hadn’t even offered Margaret a proper explanation for why he ended a years-long relationship, or a proper goodbye.  

It happened the day of Sid’s Cup party in 2017. Sid pulled Margaret aside as the party was wrapping up, nothing more than a few drunken stragglers and friends and family sticking around to clean up. Sid looked nervous as she followed him into a quiet room. 

“What’s up?” Margaret asked.

Sid didn’t make any move to sit and neither did Margaret. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I think this needs to stop,” he said. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“What?” Margaret asked. Drunk on summer sun and champagne, she wasn't following. 

“I-” Sid looked uncertain for a moment. “I think we need to break up.”

“What?” she said again. Margaret didn’t know what she was expecting when Sid asked her to come with him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“I want to break up,” Sid said firmly. “I need some space.”

Margaret had lied. She knew exactly what she’d been expecting. A ring, a future and a life together. They’d talked about it, even. Margaret felt like Sid had punched her in the gut. She almost wished he had, actually. That would hurt less than this.

“I don’t understand, Sid,” Margaret said. She thought they were happy. She thought Sid loved her. She had been wrong about both, apparently.

“I’m sorry,” was all Sid said as he brushed past Margaret and went back outside. She faintly heard a cheer go up as he reemerged. Margaret slipped upstairs. Despite all the people milling around, Sid still valued his privacy, and he didn’t have anyone staying in any of the guest bedrooms. It was easy to move her things into one down the hall while the party wrapped up outside. 

Margaret flew out from Halifax the next morning. Her things were cleaned out of Sid’s house and into a new apartment of her own before Sid was back in Pittsburgh for training camp in September. She deleted his phone number in October. She never saw him again. It was probably for the best that way.

Margaret’s hands shake. Frustrated, she throws the piece of paper, but it simply flutters to the ground at her feet. She isn’t sure who she’s more upset with—Sid, for still holding a piece of her heart, or herself, for still allowing Sid to break her heart after all these years. Margaret steps over the paper and wanders into her kitchen. She pulls open the fridge and stares aimlessly into it for a long moment. On the floor behind her, Sid’s letter sits, only half read, taunting her. Margaret slams the fridge shut. The rattling of the things on the door is only satisfying for a moment. 

She walks back over and picks up the letter again. She slides to the floor to read the last few lines.

I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s too much to ask that you could forgive me one day, but I do hope that we can talk about it sometime. But I guess you don’t really owe me that either. 

There was no closing, no autograph signature either, just “Sid” scrawled in messy cursive at the bottom of the page. 

Margaret crumples up the letter and throws it again. It lands somewhere behind her couch. It, too, doesn’t feel as satisfying as she’d like. 

Margaret carefully puts it out of her mind. Or tries to, at least. The letter stays crumpled on the floor of her living room, but it doesn’t matter because it feels like she's committed Sid’s careful words to memory, echoing in her head when her guard was down. 

Margaret’s phone rings a week after the letter arrives. It’s a Pittsburgh area code, a number she doesn’t have saved to her contacts, and she answers it warily. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Maggie,  this is Jen with the Penguins communications department, do you remember me?”

Of course Margaret remembers Jen. Jen was solely responsible for keeping the team from making fools of themselves most of the time. 

“Of course,” Margaret tells her. She knows why Jen is calling. 

“Well, I’m sure you know that Sid’s coming up on a new milestone soon, and we’ve been tracking down some friends from over the years for some more videos like we had for his 1000th game, and maybe to get some stories about Sid when he was younger,” Jen says, as businesslike as ever. She doesn’t mention the fact that Margaret had been left off the list of friends for Sid’s 1000th game, and neither does she.

“Yeah, uh, Sid gave me a heads up that you might be calling,” Margaret says without thinking.

Jen pauses. “I didn’t realize you two were still in touch.”

“Something like that,” she says wryly.

Jen continues. “We’d love to have you come out to PPG one day soon to get some footage, whenever it works for you.”

Margaret hesitates. Even with Sid’s heads up, she somehow wasn't prepared to be asked for an in-person interview. She had thought Jen would just have her record something in her apartment and send it back to Jen. It would give Margaret unlimited takes to cuss out her ex in the privacy of her own home before she could string together enough warm and complimentary words. Driving down to PPG came with the risk of running into Sid, and Margaret wasn't sure there was ever enough time to prepare herself for that.

“Can I think about it? It’s been a long time,” Margaret hears herself say. 

She hears Jen’s sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, but when she speaks again, she sounds unbothered. “Sure! I’ll leave you be for now, but get back to me in a few days, alright?” Margaret wonders briefly what Sid told Jen about their breakup. He had to have some explanation, some warning, for her, in case she’d taken the “crazy jilted ex” route and exposed him on social media or something. Lucky for him, that had never been Margaret’s style. 

In the end, Margaret agrees. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel so much contempt for Sid to not do this small thing. She wished she could. She hated that she couldn’t make herself hate him. 

Margaret drove downtown to PPG Paints Arena on a Saturday afternoon. Jen had assured her that the players would be cleared out after film review and an optional skate, and that she had no risk of running into anyone. Margaret  wanted to avoid Sid most of all, but she wasn’t sure she could handle having to make small talk with Tanger or Geno, or meeting some young player who didn’t even know who she was, after she and Sid had carefully erased each other from their histories. 

Jen meets Margaret at the door and quickly ushers her into a small, dimly lit room. It isn’t crowded, just a couple of cameras, a camera operator, and Margaret and Jen. Jen shuts the door behind her and takes a seat across from Margaret. She spares a second to be thankful that she was staying, a familiar face. Brighter flights flick on, and Jen smiles as Margaret blinks a few times to adjust.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been around, how have you been?” Jen asks.

Margaret isn’t sure if the cameras are rolling yet. She forces a smile. “Things have been good,” she says. It’s not a lie. Things were better before she found herself back in the story of Sid’s life.

“We’ll start easy,” Jen says. “What’s a story about Sid most people don’t know? You two were so close when he was younger.”

That’s also definitely not a lie. Margaret had tried to prepare herself for anything Jen might ask her, but Margaret still takes a moment to answer, wracking her memory for something to say.

Margaret and Sid had met in a bar, just before the 2009-2010 season started. That wasn’t a cute or wholesome story to tell. Margaret takes a deep breath.

“There was this time I dragged Sid to the animal shelter because I wanted a dog.”

“Maggie, I don’t need a dog,” Sid is saying, gamely allowing himself to be dragged towards the doors of Humane Animal Rescue.

Maggie stops and turns to face Sid, hands on her hips. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve still got Sam back home, I know. But I want a dog, so we’re here.” 

She pulls open the door and lets Sid walk ahead of her inside. He nervously touches the brim of his hat and looks around. A smiling volunteer makes her way over to them.

“Hey guys, what can I help you with today?” she asks. 

Maggie smiles back at her and takes Sid’s hand. “I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog,” she says.

“Perfect, we have plenty of those, hopefully one will be your perfect new friend,” the volunteer says, already turning and heading towards the kennels. She asks Maggie questions as they walk—what exactly she’s looking for, what her apartment is like, if she has any other pets— and Maggie is suddenly overwhelmed. Sid trails a few steps behind, only half listening. Maggie can hear the barking dogs before the volunteer even opens the door to their part of the shelter. 

Maggie glances over her shoulder at Sid. “You sure you don’t want to adopt one, too?” she teases, noticing Sid’s soft smile, always a sucker for a cute face. “I’m sure we could find you a good match.” Sid just shakes his head at her.

The next hour is a blur of meeting dogs and Maggie trying not to fall in love with all of them. Sid ends up on the floor with her, happily cuddling and playing with each new dog that’s brought out to Maggie. In the end, she falls for a sweet Pit mix named Biscuit. Even Sid seems enthralled by her when she licks his face. 

Maggie’s got Biscuit on a leash, and she’s following the volunteer back to the front desk to fill out all the paperwork for adoption when Sid stops short. Maggie stops, too. Sid’s standing next to a glass door labeled Kitten Room, watching a little boy play with a kitten. The little boy notices Sid watching and looks up. Margaret can tell the moment he recognizes Sid as Sidney Crosby by the way his face splits into a grin. He carefully sets the kitten down and runs to open the door.

“Do you wanna play with the kitties, too?” Maggie hears him ask. Sid glances at her. Biscuit, eager to make a new friend, whines and tugs on her leash. The kitten the boy had been playing with is attempting to make an escape.

Sid scoops the kitten up and edges carefully into the Kitten Room. “Of course, bud,” Maggie hears him say. To Maggie, he adds, “I’ll catch up with you, yeah?” The door shuts behind him before she can answer.

By the time Maggie’s finished with the pages and pages of adoption paperwork, Sid still hasn’t caught back up with her. She and Biscuit make their way back towards the Kitten Room to find him. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the little boy, and there’s a kitten climbing on his shoulder, trying to eat his hat, another one curled up in his hands. Maggie stands next to the glass door and watches them, a smile on her face. Next to her, Biscuit wags her tail at them. The little boy notices them and waves. Sid carefully hands the kitten in his hands to the little boy and disentangles the claws of the other one from his hat. 

He’s grinning as he makes his way back to Maggie, easy and relaxed. He drapes his arm across her shoulders for a moment when comes through the door, and Maggie leans into his side.

“Have fun making some new friends?” she asks. 

“He asked me if I could score a goal for him tomorrow night,” Sid says, laughing a little.

“Y’know, a cat would probably be a better pet for you, with all the travel and stuff,” Maggie says.

Sid digs his elbow into her ribs, but he kisses Maggie quickly against the car before opening the back door for Biscuit. 

Margaret’s eyes were wet when she finished telling her story. She twists around in her seat to dry them before facing Jen again. It’s not even a sad story. She’d almost forgotten the memory altogether. It’s been a few years since Biscuit had passed now, but that sweet little dog had been Margaret’s anchor during the aftermath of their breakup. She should look into adopting another dog, Margaret thinks absently. Jen seems unfazed by, but not unsympathetic to, Margaret’s crying. 

“And what do you want to say to Sid?” she asked. 

Margaret had thought about this part, too. She remembered someone saying that Nathan MacKinnon’s message for Sid’s 100th game was too personal to show on the broadcast. She’d considered saying something vindictive, something petty. Her relationship with Sid had always been personal, and a part of Margaret wanted this last message to be just between them, too. But she worried that Jen would just scrap the footage if she said anything too cruel. 

So Margaret settled for sincere, or as sincere as she could muster.

“Hi, Sid,” she starts awkwardly. “It was such a privilege to be by your side over the years, to be able to watch you grow into an amazing leader. To be there for the Olympics and for the Cups…it’s not something anyone is going to forget. I know it wasn’t easy to get this far, but you did it and you’re still going. I’m proud of you, Sid,” Margaret says. She takes a deep breath. 

There is silence in the room when Margaret finishes speaking. She clears her throat. “Right, is that all, then?” she asks, already standing up. The small room they were in suddenly feels claustrophobic, and Margaret needs out.

Jen stands with her. “It’s perfect, thanks so much for coming in. I’m sure it wasn’t easy…” she says. Margaret wonders, again, how many details of their breakup Jen actually knows. 

Margaret was already opening the door and rushing back into the hallway. She didn’t stop to check if the hallway was clear first, which is how she bumps straight into someone walking down the hall.

“Oof,” she hears, from a voice that was once as familiar as her own. A hand reaches out to steady her elbow. Sid hasn’t seen Margaret’s face yet. 

“No, it’s okay, it was my fault,” she says, carefully not looking up at Sid. She pulls her purse strap back up and tries to edge around Sid before he recognizes her.

“Maggie?” Sid asks 

Margaret freezes. Sid’s still gripping her elbow tightly. “Margaret,” she says.

“What?” “It’s Margaret. No one really calls me Maggie any more,” she tells him. Sid’s grip tightens even more for a moment before he drops his hand back to his side.

Margaret stops peering down the hall behind him and chances a look at his face. Sid’s jaw is tight, and he’s looking at Margaret like he can’t believe he’s actually seeing her. A member of team staff walks past behind Sid— Tags, Margaret is pretty sure— and pats Sid on the back as he goes past. Sid startles a little.

Sid takes Margaret’s arm again, and she lets herself be led into an empty room a few steps down the hall. Sid pushes the door mostly shut behind them.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come out,” Sid admits.

“I was told there wouldn’t be any players here,” Margaret counters. Sid winces, and it’s satisfying to see, briefly. 

“Maggie,” Sid starts, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. He’s still staring at Margaret like he doesn’t believe she’s real. 

“Stop calling me that,” Margaret says. She’s drained after sitting in front of that camera for Sid, and she doesn’t have the patience, suddenly, for whatever Sid’s about to say next. “Look, I should just go,” she says. “I should’ve never even come in the first place.” She finally wrenches her arm free from Sid’s grip. 

Sid blinks at Margaret, confused. “I just thought-” he says, but, again, he doesn’t finish his sentence. “Well, uh, thanks, I guess,” Sid says, taking a step back. “It means a lot, I know it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Margaret says. “Yeah, well, I guess now we can go back to pretending the other of us doesn’t exist.” She moves to brush past Sid and out the door. 

“Wait,” Sid says. He reaches to grab Margaret again, but thinks better of it. He shuts the door all the way. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean? You made it very clear you didn’t want anything to do with me when you broke up with me. We went our separate ways, and I did my best to forget I was ever in love with you,” Margaret says. She makes a move to push past Sid again, but Sid stops her with an arm around her waist. Margaret spins back to face Sid, now boxed in against the closed door. 

“Everything was happening so fast, I didn’t know what to do,” Sid tries, talking fast like he can keep Margaret from leaving by sheer force of will.

“So fast? Sid, we’d been together for almost seven years, when all of a sudden you broke up with me instead of giving me a ring!”

“Exactly! You wanted a ring, and I wasn’t ready for that,” Sid argues. “It was just-”

“Just so overwhelming you couldn’t even talk about it? Fuck, all I got was a ‘I want to breakup,’ and then we never spoke again.” Margaret didn’t think she had it in her to be angry about this after so many years, but Sid standing so close to her was bringing out all sorts of emotions. Fury, longing, heartbreak.

Sid makes a frustrated noise. “You’re the one who cut me out of your life!”

Margaret feels like she could scream. “You broke up with me, what the hell else was I supposed to do?” she says, trying to keep her voice level. She isn’t sure if she’s going to scream or break down crying. 

“I just needed space! I needed time to figure out where we were headed,” Sid says. 

Margaret opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, Sid’s mouth is on hers, kissing her fiercely. She lets herself melt into it for a second—the way Sid’s lips slide against hers, once so familiar, her back pressed against the door, Sid’s hands on her body, one clutching her hip and the other resting on her cheek—before she comes to her senses and pushes Sid away. Sid goes, breathing raggedly and looking stunned. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Margaret asks. Her hand is on the doorknob. 

“I- I don’t know,” Sid says honestly. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

Margaret should leave. She knows she should leave. She can’t help but ask, “Which part?”

Sid makes a face at her. Margaret hates the fondness she feels for that damn nose scrunch. “All of it. Everything. I’m sorry,” he says again. 

They’re both quiet for a long time. There’s footsteps down the hall. “I should go,” Margaret finally says. 

This time, Sid doesn’t stop her.  Margaret pulls the door open and steps back into the hall. She looks back over her shoulder. Sid hasn’t moved. 

“Goodbye, Sid,” she says softly. 

She doesn’t pass anyone else as she makes her way back to her car. She drives home in silence. She doesn’t ever hear from Sid again. It’s probably for the best that way. 

 A few weeks later, Margaret gets a text from Jen. The game’s tonight, it reads. Margaret still hasn’t decided if she’s going to watch the game or not. She hasn’t seen a Penguins game since they won the Cup in 2017, hasn’t watched one on TV in even longer.

She turns on her TV.

1250 games isn’t nearly as big of a milestone as 1000 games was, but they’ll still be showing some of the pre-recorded clips throughout the game, mixed in with highlights of Sid over the years, or so Potash is saying when Margaret finds the right channel. There’s no pregame ceremony, just Sid blushing when the PA acknowledges the milestone before puck drop. It’s easy to fall back into the rhythm of watching hockey, though Margaret has to keep the roster pulled up on her phone to keep track of who’s who. The team is very different than she remembers, only a handful of players left who’d remember her. 

They play Margaret’s video clip just before the end of the second period. The words underneath her name simply describe her as “friend of Sid’s” which is a bit of a stretch. “Sid’s ex-girlfriend” would certainly have been funnier. She mutes the TV; she already knows what she said, doesn’t need to hear it again. They’ve interspersed the clip with pictures of Margaret and Sid, some she’d even forgotten existed— Margaret and Biscuit and Sid with his dog Sam one summer, one a teammate had taken of them in a rare moment of PDA with Sid’s hips pressing Margaret into a wall in a hall at PPG, Margaret’s arms wound tightly around his neck, and the last one is one from Sid’s day with the Cup in 2017. She remembers that picture being taken, poking fun at Sid’s sunburn to get him to give the camera a real smile. The memory is bittersweet now. Margaret wonders which poor intern had to dig those up, or if Sid had offered them up himself. 

“I’m proud of you,” on-screen Margaret is saying. 

Margaret clicks the TV off. She stands up, stretches. Sid’s letter hasn’t moved from its place of honor on the floor behind the couch. Margaret fishes it out before heading into the kitchen. She smooths it out on the counter. The words are familiar, imprinted on Margaret’s memory. She rereads it anyway, then again. She misses Sid fiercely, all of a sudden, something in her chest aching at the thought. She stares at the letter without really seeing it, Sid’s thin, careful handwriting blurring together until the letters are indistinguishable.

 With a sigh, Margaret crumples the letter back up and throws it in the trash. 

She pours a glass of red wine and starts over on putting Sidney Crosby out of her mind forever.

[evoilvx]

Part 2. If the RE8 ladies were properly introduced to modern society these are the things I think they would hate

I did this really late at night, so apologies if there are any mistakes!

Alcina:

Fake nails. Who puts something on their fingers that can be so easily broken? You can't slash people if something just snaps off in the middle of the fight

Latex gloves

Computer mice

Chopsticks

TV remotes

Modern doors

Vapes. She loves smoking but she wouldn't go out of her way to buy something that just creates smoke in her face and has a rancid taste, and the vape burn just isn't pleasing in general nor the same as her usual ones(to her at least)

Normal keyboards. She starts typing and all the keys start flying off???

Hangars. Don't get her wrong, she likes the idea but they always just snap into two pieces in front of her face

Helicopters and airplanes. These things are obnoxiously loud, blows her hair and hat around, don't look nice, takes up too much space for something like.. that and couldn't even keep up with her if she started flying? What's the point, she can't even fit inside (Normal people use these things Alcina...)

Every single modern brand shoe

Ads, for anything. She doesn't have the time to sit through those types of things

Fake fireplaces

Fake anything. Ex. fruits, decoration, props, things that look like they work but actually do not

Wired headphones

Baseball caps. She prefers her own hat, thank you very much.

Siri

Hard drives, she keeps losing them

Airpods, for the same reason as hard drives, and because they don't fit

Motion activated lights

Extension cords

Modern slang, what the hell is a WAP

Bela:

Ads, like Alcina. She asks her mother to buy her youtube premium and all that to get rid of them

Cheese graters

Mayonnaise

Converse shoes

Samsung

Unicycles

Bicycles

Anything with the word 'cycle' in it that isn't the spin cycle on a washing mashing

Cotton candy, she hates the way it makes her teeth feel after

Curtains that aren't black out curtains, why would you buy something that doesn't do its job (blocking out light)

Holograms

Fireworks

Cheap skin care products

Cheetos

Greek yogurt

Mopeds

Pogo sticks

The eye test where they blow a sharp gust of air into your eye

Showers with no tub. Who are you and what did you do with my bath tub????

Animal print clothing

Extremely fragmented perfumes, soaps, dish soaps, etc etc

Cliche love tropes, she's tired of seeing the same thing over and over

Cassandra:

Training dummies, she wants the real thing

Mustard

Ads

Calendars

Sidewalks, everybody is always in her way

Stop signs

Brochures

Trucks

Helium balloons

Dictionaries

Those coin pusher machine games

Egg cartons???

Hair dressers. Why is a stranger holding a sharp object next to her face

Revolving doors

The gym, it just makes her want to fight everybody. She'd rather work out at home

Instagram

Heels from Gucci

Metal lamp posts that are below 10 ft tall, she wants to fight it

Doctors visits

Yoyos

Hot dog buns

Highways

Murder mysteries, she could do so much better than that

Legos. She's absolutely tired of stepping on them

Daniela:

Airport conveyor belts

See through doors

Milk

Ads

Slide shows

Sporks, just choose one you can't have both

Goggles, then she REALLY feels like a fly

Censoring "Just say F*CK why can't you say F*CK!" (lol)

Bug spray

Toffee candies

Baby wipes, she hates the smell

Garbage trucks

Fake cabinets and drawers, she's ripped off a few handles since she didn't know they were just for show

Romance books that don't end with a happy ever after

The default iPhone alarm tune, it makes her feel homicidal

Youtube tutorials

Any chair that doesn't spin, she sat in one spinny chair and decided every other chair wasn't worthy

Captain America

Canned goods

Styrofoam (she loves styrofoam peanuts though)

Foldable tables

Glasses, they just get in the way of everything

Sunscreen

Ketchup

Fake plants, she tried chewing on one once and it was just a bad experience for her

Peanut butter

Tacos

Donna:

Commercials

Animal plushies that fall apart too easily

Too many shoe laces on a single shoe

Wired headphones, she keeps getting tangled

Off brand legos, they keep falling apart since they aren't made well. It makes her sad

Tape, specifically double sided tape

Fake plants

Narrow doorframes, they seem to just be getting slimmer every year

Plane jets

Online links that don't work.. then why is it there???

Fake cabinets and drawers

Laffy taffy

The idea that you have to throw a piece of pasta on the wall and if it sticks its cooked???

Why are people breaking pasta in half?

Slippers

Concerts

Juul pods

Animals dying in movies (she cries every time)

High school love story shows

Converse and Nike shoes

Modern interpretation of mythology and the "villains"

Captain America. (Daniela gave her a presentation on why she shouldn't like him)

Pesticide. She got a job done once for roaches and it killed all her plants (Moreau recommended it; he apologized)

Jaw breakers

The rainbow swirl lollipops

Hand air driers in public bathrooms

Sporks

Newspapers, she likes modern magazines now

Mother Miranda:

Extremely clear glass windows/doors... for.. reasons.

Glass.

Really. Clean. Glass.

Did I mention crystal clear glass?

Push/pull doors with no indication of which way it swings

Non-tinted windows

Sunglasses, she feels ridiculous

Skimpy swimsuits, she's not getting in that

Phone call ring tones, alarms, anything type of sound that a phone might make (she likes having a phone, just not the sounds that come with it)

Solid color salt and pepper shaker bottles with no labels

Velcros

Styrofoam

Plastic water bottles

Lawn mowers, she would stare outside her window every single morning, watching as people mow their lawns (that is, if she obviously doesn't live in a secluded home.. but details details..)

Leaf blowers

Nerf guns, Alcina's daughters keep pelting her with them

Doctors

Dentists, why would your fingers be in her mouth

Small mousepads

Small screens

Any modern brand shoe

Wired things, she has no time to worry about cables and all that

Heavily scented lotions (Forever 21, Bath & Body Works, Victoria's Secret), she wants her hands to be moisturized, not smell like an entire flower garden

Things that just don't have a label in general, she can't live with just a random blue bag filled with unknown contents, even if its just coffee grounds

Uber eats

Super. Clear. Windows.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 31

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Ray Merrimen x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Notes: I'd like to introduce you all to Brat 3.0, because @massivecolorspygiant and I couldn't help ourselves and our Brat headcanoning

Also I've never written this kink before, but I've done some...Research, let's say research.

Also AAAAAAHHHH LAST DAY OF KINKTOBER CAN YOU BELIEVE IT??? Huge shoutout again to @absurdthirst for putting together these awesome prompts.

Warnings: Prey play, dub-con, dom/sub dynamics, derogatory language, pussy slapping, restraints, gagging, rough sex, piv, unprotected sex, aftercare, praise kink

You go over the rules again. 

You don’t fuss or quibble, though it annoys you, a little. You feel like a kid, being reminded of what’s what and who’s in charge. But you know, deep down, that Ray just wants you comfortable and safe. It’s not that he can't switch off his hunter mode once it’s on. It’s that he doesn’t want either of you so deep in the game that you begin to second-guess yourself, or your choices. He wants you clear-headed ahead of it. 

So you sit on the back of his truck with him standing between your legs, swinging your legs back and forth, your feet brushing against his calves. You go over all of it—boundaries, safe words, hard stops, everything. You recite it all by heart, slowly and carefully, your hands smoothing over his forearms gently. His hands rest warmly on your hips, squeezing encouragingly as you hit every correct point. 

“Good girl,” He murmurs once you’re through. You lean up for a kiss as you hit the last guideline. You pucker up pointedly, humming as you wait for him. Ray huffs a soft laugh through his nose and leans down, pressing his lips gently to yours. You sink up into him, arms looping around his waist as his hands smooth over your back. 

“You gonna run fast?” He murmurs against your lips. You giggle, nodding. 

“I’m gonna run so fast. We haven’t been training for nothing, mister.” 

Ray’s smile widens a touch, fingertips dipping under your shirt. Then his smile drops, facing growing staunch and serious. 

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much.” 

“Ray—” 

“You’ll use your safeword.” 

“I will. I promise.” 

“...You promised last time, too.”

Your head dips in shame. You’d been so arrogant about what you thought you could handle the first time you did this, but you know better now. You hadn't spoken up until it was almost too late. By the time you had, your body was shaking, and tears were slipping from your eyes. 

“I learned,” You insist softly. “I won’t make that mistake again.” 

Ray curls his hand around your jaw, tipping your head up to meet his gaze. 

“You promise me.” 

“I swear, Ray.” 

He nods a little before he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You let your eyes slide closed, cuddling even closer to his chest. 

“You alright?” He murmurs. 

“Mmm. Just gettin’ all my cuddling in before you get all…You know.” 

“Quiet?” 

“Mm, you’re usually pretty quiet.” 

“All what, then?”

“Predatory.” 

You rest your chin on his chest, batting your eyelashes at him and puckering your lips again. Ray indulgently cups your cheeks, leaning in and giving you a warm, deep kiss. You tighten your grip on his shirt, pressing your chest up against his. He draws away, patting your cheek lightly before leaning back. You whine, reaching for him. 

“Save those sounds for later, baby. Go get ready,” He urges, taking a step back. “It’s starting to get dark.” 

--  

You get changed in the cab. It’s going to be chilly, but you’re set to face that, along with the inevitable bruises and scrapes you’re likely to endure. You tug on a long sleeve tee, a pair of sweatpants, and your sturdiest sneakers. Then, once you’re certain he’s not looking, you slip in an extra surprise for Ray, too. 

-- 

The sun has nearly sunk fully into the sky as you join Ray at the edge of the clearing. 

“You ready?” He asks. You nod insistently.

“More than.” 

“Shoes tied tight?” 

“Ray.”

“It’s a valid question. Don’t need you tripping over your laces.” 

“Oh, please, you’d love that.” 

“I would not. I’m gonna take you down fair and square.” 

You can’t help but smile with the way he says gonna. Your body is already beginning to thrum with anticipation. You have been training, and you are faster than the last time you did this, but you can’t outrun Ray. You’ll likely never be able to, no matter how hard you work at it. That won’t stop you from trying, but you both know he’s going to take you down. You want to lean up for another kiss, another nuzzle. You wanna cup his face and draw him in and snuggle. But—the sooner you get going on this, the sooner you’ll feel the rush, the crest, and the inevitable comfort of Ray’s arms. 

“Be careful out there,” Ray warns. “You see anything dangerous, anyone else, you radio me—” 

“And turn back. Baby, I know. We’ve already gone over this.” 

He sighs softly, nodding, murmuring, “Alright.” He palms your cheek, thumb skimming your cheekbone. “Get a move on. You have a half-hour head start.” 

--  

You don’t aim to put the furthest distance between the two of you. That was your mistake last time—that was what had tired you out, and led to your condition by the time Ray had caught up to you. Your goal now is to hide in the most advantageous way possible. You’re trying to think strategically—but it’s hard. Your heart is thudding roughly in your chest. Your blood is roaring in your ears. Your stomach is twisting with nerves. You know that Ray, the Ray that finds you, won’t be your gentle, stalwart, but ultimately sweet Ray. He’ll be harsh, sharp, and cruel. 

You’ll fucking love it. 

-- 

You curl your arms tightly around yourself, burrowed against the wide trunk of an oak tree. You rub your arms gently along your core, warming it to keep yourself from shivering. It’s not freezing; it’s just cold enough for you to feel the faint wobble of a shiver creeping up. You hear a twig snap beside you, and your head twitches toward the sound. It’s a few moments of silence, and then a squirrel is darting just into and out of your field of vision. You push out a slow, calming breath between your lips. You draw another in through your nose, fighting to keep yourself steady. The suspense is fucking killing you. 

It’s been nearly an hour. You thought Ray would find you by now. Fuck, maybe he has. Maybe he’s nearby, watching you panic—No. No. Be calm. You’re psyching yourself out. 

Besides, Ray doesn’t like to play with his food. 

At least, not like that. 

You hear the rustle of leaves, and for a moment, you stop breathing. You wait…And wait…And then Ray’s warning growl of, “Hop to, little bunny,” Sends you scurrying off again. Your feet slip and scrabble over fallen leaves. You hardly manage to avoid tripping over a few roots before jumping over a log. You can hear the steady thudding of his feet behind you. It pushes you to run until your lungs and legs are burning, your training giving way to your desperation to keep out of his grasp. And then your foot slips. You falter for just a few seconds, but it’s all he needs. 

Ray’s arm hooks around your middle, tugging him back into his chest to slow you before shoving you down to your hands and knees. You gasp sharply as Ray drops to one knee, hauling you back by your shirt. You wobble, then yelp as Ray takes hold of your wrists. He’s quick to work the zip tie around them, tightening it and locking your arms behind your back. You open your mouth to holler—with the threat of hollering, really. You wouldn’t. You don’t want anyone stumbling on the two of you and getting the wrong idea. But Ray slaps his hand over your mouth, drawing you sharply against his chest. 

“You keep quiet,” He warns lowly, “And I’ll be a little more careful with you.”

It’s a goad, and he knows it. You don’t want him to be careful. You wrench yourself in his grasp, squaring your elbows and trying to shove at him. Ray tuts. You feel him rifling in his pocket for something, his grip loosening just a little. You hurry to try and get up, making it just two wobbly steps before you fall to the ground. Ray’s back on top of you immediately. He grasps your shoulder, rolling you over onto your back. You open your mouth with the threat of hollering again, but Ray grasps your jaw, pushing it wider and cramming a bandana into it. You let yourself holler then, knowing it'll be muffled, kicking your feet and squirming beneath him. 

Ray rests his hand on your throat, just hard enough to keep you pinned and mostly still. He reaches down, shoving at the waistband of your sweatpants and pushing them down around your thighs. You squeeze your thighs shut as tightly as you can, as long as you can. But Ray wriggles his fingers between your thighs, finding your pussy slick and aching. He shifts to slide a knee between your thighs, pushing your legs wide and landing a slap on your cunt. You groan, eyes crossing as he levels a second, then a third. Your back arches up off of the ground, head tipping back into the dirt and leaves as you lean into the sting. His cock his hard in his sweatpants, tenting the fabric and warm against your thigh.

Your arms are beginning to ache where they’re trapped under you. Your nipples harden, rubbing against the fabric of your bralette. You tip your head up just a touch as Ray bows over you. He draws his thumb along your slit, teasing your clit with slow, careful circles.

“You’re already so wet,” He murmurs.

You shiver, the feeling having nothing to do with the cold rushing over your slick, heated skin. Ray’s fingers drift a lower, set to tease along your cunt. And then his fingers catch on the rubber. His gaze flickers, and one of his little smiles appears and disappears in the space of a blink.

“Slutty little thing, aren’t you.”  

You shake your head vehemently, but Ray chuckles, reaching down and teasing it in and out of your pussy. 

“No?” He taunts, eyes wide as he draws it out entirely, dangling the slick neon pink vibrator over your head. Your eyes track it nervously, like someone being hypnotized. Ray chuckles again, reaching down. He draws the bandana from between your lips, flinging it away and shoving the vibrator in in its place. The flavor of your cunt bursts on your tongue, and you manage a weak whimper. Ray leans back just enough to slide his pants down around his thighs. You tip your head forward, eyes widening at the sight of his hard cock bobbing between his thighs. He meets your eyes, breaking your illusion for just a moment as he reaches down, drawing the vibrator from between your lips. There’s a trail of spit between your lips and where he holds it. 

“You have anything to say?” He murmurs. 

It’s an out—a chance to splutter your safeword, or the standby of red light in case your brain is too scrambled. Instead, you slur out, “Fuck you!” 

The words are watery as they leave your thick throat. Ray smiles then, cramming the vibrator back between your lips before he shoves his hips forward. Your eyes roll back into your head as your cunt throbs and stretches around him. Your body pushes up into him, feet scrabbling against the ground as your knees squeeze around his hips. Ray bows over you, chest pushing against yours as he presses you tightly against the ground.

“Fuck,” You groan around the vibrator. “Shut up,” He orders, sliding his hand from your neck to grasp your jaw. “Look at me.” 

You blink up at him, eyes not fully focusing as he begins to roll his hips in tight, controlled circles. When he chuckles this time, it’s a mean sound. 

“Already cockdrunk,” He growls, “Pathetic.”

You groan, arching your back up and pushing into him. You don’t bother to hide your desperation anymore. You just struggle and shove your body against his, desperate for more contact, more of his harsh love. 

Ray gives it to you. He keeps you pinned to the ground, fucking into you like you’re a goddamn ragdoll, pliable, his for the taking. He doesn’t let up for a moment. Sometimes he presses so tightly against you that you’re not sure you’ll be able to breathe. His movements are praise and punishment all at once, giving you what you need and taking what he wants. Your orgasm begins to build, like a fire flickering in your belly. You push your body up against Ray’s, trying to show him. You don't need to tell him—Ray knows you backward and forward. He just fucks you with that same, deep, tight, controlled grind of his hips as he did when he first ground into you.

You press your hips insistently up against his, squeezing down around his cock. Your hips pulse and jump against his, body pushing back into the dirt as he pushes you into the ground. Ray presses his face into your neck, his growls and grunts sinking hotly into your skin. It’s just another moment before you feel him spill into you. You squeeze down around him, knees tightening around his hips. Ray tips his head up after a moment, his beard brushing your heated skin. He leans away, drawing out of you carefully. You hiss around the vibrator, cunt still twitching in your aftershocks. 

Ray rights his sweatpants before he hooks his fingers in the fabric of your collar, hauling you to sit up. 

“You alright?” He asks softly. You nod a little, letting out a soft hum around the vibrator. He reaches up, gently drawing the vibrator from between your lips. Your mouth feels gluey and slick all at once. You swipe your tongue across your lips, jaw sore from the bandana and the vibrator’s light stretching. 

Ray leans around you, peering down at your hands. You expect him to draw his swiss army knife out, to cut your arms free. Instead, he turns his head, murmuring, “Can you get out of ‘em for me?” 

You want to whine, and pout. You want to tell him no. Frankly, you think if you tell him no now, he’ll undo them. But you wanna be good for Ray—to show him that you listen to what he’s told you, that you remember. You want to make him happy, and proud. You sweep your legs around, exposed thighs and ass scraping against the ground as you get your legs under yourself and wobble as you rise to your knees. Ray leans back, rocking back onto his heels as he watches you.

Your arms are shaking from strain now, but you gather your remaining strength. You draw in a deep breath, closing your eyes. You raise your arms as much as you can behind your back before slamming them down against your back. It’s not enough. The plastic bites into your skin in a way that you can’t fully feel, your hands and wrists numb from their previous positioning. You raise your arms again, loosing a frustrated grunt, then relieved groan as you slam your arms down again, and feel the plastic pop free. “There we go—C’mon,” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, drawing you up to stand with him and helping you straighten your clothing.

--  

“You made it further than last time.” 

“I did?” You mumble, tipping your head down to look at him.

“Good couple’a miles. And you gave me a hell of a chase."

"Couldn't give into you too easily," You tease.

You raise an aching arm, smoothing your hand over his closely-buzzed, freshly washed head. Your hair and bare bodies are still damp from the bath that you’ve taken together. Ray disinfected the few scrapes and scratches you’d endured during your run and your subsequent tryst. Your arms still ache, and your wrists are beginning to blotch and darken with bruises from the zipties. Ray’s settled between your legs now, chin resting on your belly. He slides his hands along your side in turn, head dipping to press a kiss to your sternum. 

He doesn’t ask if he was too hard on you. He doesn’t ask if it was too much, too little. But you tell him: 

“You were perfect.” 

Ray draws in a deep, relieved breath before he sucks a sharp kiss to the hinge of your jaw. 

“Strong girl,” He murmurs. Your stomach flutters with warmth, your body humming as the praise washes over you. Ray pushes himself up over you before he dips his head, brushing his lips along your jaw.

“You were perfect.” 

Ray draws in a deep, relieved breath before he sucks a sharp kiss to the hinge of your jaw. 

“Brave girl.” 

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