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pathologicalreid · 11 months ago

Note

Can I please request protective Spencer x BAU!Reader who get "lightly" hurt or put in danger bc SWAT or local police made a mistake, and Spencer goes OFF on them. Hotch or Rossi have to calm him down because no one but the BAU knows theyre dating. I'd love to see protective Spencer if possible :)

no sign of danger | S.R.

when SWAT makes a mistake that puts you in danger, your boyfriend is... displeased

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: bloody nose, concussion, split lip, blood, mild violence. spencer reid says the f word. word count: 1.58k a/n: anon, not to be dramatic but something about writing this changed my brain chemistry. thank you for requesting!!! i hope you like it!

The time between arriving at a scene and when SWAT cleared the building was almost always intolerable. There were too many variables at play. It made you uneasy.

So, you waited, leaning on the side of an SUV with your Kevlar already strapped on, you turned to look at Hotch, “We’ve got an audience.”

Breadcrumbs that Garcia had picked up led the team to a house in a small town in Arizona. Unfortunately, the FBI garnered a lot of attention, and neighbors were starting to gather around the house. Hotch nodded, “Reid, JJ, work with the locals on crowd control, and make sure no one is recording. The last thing we need is for the news crews to show up.”

You offered Spencer a small smile as he turned to follow the blond to the barrier. He waved behind his back as he walked away.

Chuckling from right next to you got your attention, just to see Morgan shaking his head, “You two have it so bad.”

“I like to think we have it good, actually,” you said, flushing slightly. The teasing came with the territory, dating within the BAU meant never knowing a moment of peace – especially with Derek Morgan around.

There wasn’t an opportunity for him to respond, because as soon as he opened his mouth, your radio buzzed to life in your ear, “Building is clear. No sign of danger.” At the sound of the SWAT commander’s voice, you and Morgan surged forward to enter the building, Emily and Hotch following close behind.

Behind you, Hotch cleared his throat, “Morgan, Y/L/N, take the two rooms in the back, we’ll take the front.”

Nodding at your orders, you and Morgan walked past the staircase and to the opposite end of the house, where the kitchen and the den were. “This place looks like it’s been abandoned,” you thought aloud, dragging your index finger along the kitchen counter, and cringing when it came back covered in dust.

As you wiped your hand on your jeans, you looked up to see Morgan sorting through a vinyl record collection. “You’re right. It doesn’t look like anyone’s even entered this house in years.”

You hummed, opening the first cabinet you saw, wrinkling your nose at the discovery that the house also smelled like it had been abandoned. As you went to close the cabinet, the one below you swung open, the force of the doors almost knocking you to the ground.

Stumbling back, you saw a flash of hands before you were slammed into the refrigerator behind you. Immediately, you dropped to the floor, watching as Morgan tackled the guy and shouted for Hotch and Prentiss.

“We need an ambulance, Y/N’s down,” Emily spoke urgently into her radio while Morgan cuffed your attacker.

You winced at the way the radio buzzed in your ear; the way Emily’s voice echoed combined with the throbbing pain in your head made you nauseous. “What do you mean ‘Y/N’s down’?” Spencer’s voice rang through the radios, prompting you to haphazardly yank the coiled wire from your ear.

Everything sounded like you were underwater, Emily and Hotch asked you questions as the fog cleared from your head, “You’re bleeding,” Emily said, there was a worried look in her eyes.

Hesitantly, you pulled your hand from your face, just to see it covered in blood. You weren’t even sure how long you had been holding your hand to your face. “Can you stand?” Hotch asked you, his tone was concerned, but there was something else buried within it.

Nodding slowly, both of them helped you stand. Emily hooked an arm through yours when you stumbled slightly, she led you out of the house and to the ambulance. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Morgan place his hand atop your attacker’s head, protecting it from the top of the police cruiser.

As soon as you sat down on the back of the ambulance, an EMT handed you a towel to hold to your nose. Your eyes flittered up to see Spencer approaching the ambulance, but to your surprise, he turned at the last moment and faced down the SWAT commander. “What happened in there?” He asked, his tone wholly accusatory.

“It looks like the person of interest was hiding in the kitchen when your team entered,” Commander Polk answered, obviously thinking Spencer was just asking for a sort of status report.

Spencer shook his head, “We’re hunting for a serial killer, and you had the audacity to miss the presence of an entire person?” He asked incredulously, “Did you even clear the kitchen?” He pointed in the direction of the house, where Rossi and JJ were now entering to look around more.

The SWAT commander faltered for a moment, “Someone did, but it wasn’t me personally.”

You winced as the EMT prodded at your face, surmising that your nose wasn’t broken, just bleeding badly as a result of the blunt force of the refrigerator. She pulled your hand from your face so she could inspect for any further damage. You opened your mouth to talk, but the EMT was quick to stop you, “You shouldn’t talk, not until we can look at the cut on your lip.”

While the EMTs got more supplies out, Emily helped you take off your Kevlar vest, undoing the Velcro for you and gently tugging it off. The entire front of it was covered in blood, you winced at the sight of the now-red letters.

“You need to figure out whoever checked the kitchen and make sure they know what they’re doing,” Spencer said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Commander Polk’s demeanor instantly changed, “I assure you, agent, we take training our team very seriously. This was just a mistake.”

Even from this distance, you saw Spencer roll his eyes. “First of all, it’s doctor,” he corrected – at which you rolled your eyes. “Second of all, of course, you take training seriously, it’s mandated by the federal government. This was a mistake, a mistake that ended in the injury of a federal agent,” you looked from Hotch to Spencer, hoping your unit chief would do something before Spencer got punched by the SWAT commander. “SWAT making mistakes gets other law enforcement officers killed,” he continued.

“What’s your point, doctor?” The commander asked.

Spencer cleared his throat, “I’m saying you’re fucking lucky she didn’t get killed, or else-“

“Reid!” Hotch called, stalking over to where your boyfriend was nearly getting into a fistfight with SWAT. He muttered something unintelligible to Polk before dragging Spencer away by the elbow, “What was that?”

Your boyfriend threw his hands up in the air, “He needed to be made aware of their mistake.”

Sternly, your unit chief shook his head, “They are aware, Reid, and I assure you I’m not going to drop it and there will be an internal investigation into what went wrong.” He raised his eyebrows, “That being said, it’s not your job to take care of mistakes made by other people.”

“No,” Spencer agreed, “but it is my job to take care of her,” he said, gesturing over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance.

Hotch pointed around to the locals and other SWAT members, “They don’t know that, Reid.” He whispered, keeping his voice down so he didn’t expose your relationship to everyone in the Arizona town. “Let me take care of it,” was his final statement before he walked back to Commander Polk.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Spencer spun around and finally walked over to you. Emily nodded at you before stepping away, “Are you alright?” He asked.

You flashed him a thumbs up, gesturing toward the EMT, who answered for you, “We just glued the gash on her lip, so she can’t really talk right now. She’ll be fine though, maybe a small scar, if anything.”

“Good,” Spencer said, ambling over and taking a seat next to you. “I was so worried about you,” he murmured, and you watched as he restrained himself from touching you.

Humming, you leaned into him for just a moment. Your movement was intentional, but it was quick enough that any passersby would assume you were just unsteady.

The EMTs left once the glue on your lip dried, directing you to ice it periodically to help with swelling and handing you care instructions.

You were left with a mild concussion, a split lip, and ruined clothes. All things considered, you felt like you were pretty lucky. The rest of the team piled into the SUVs, you and Spencer sitting in the back of one with Hotch at the helm and Emily in the passenger seat. “Who knew Reid had it in him?” Emily wondered aloud, eliciting a small laugh from you.

“I can’t believe you almost got into a physical fight with SWAT over a split lip and concussion,” you said, smiling slightly, but stopping as you felt the glue on your lip tugging.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “It wasn’t over the split lip and concussion, it was over the abhorrent display of-“

“Reid,” Hotch said in his no-nonsense tone.

Your boyfriend slouched back in his seat, “So, maybe it was over the split lip and concussion.”

Closing your eyes, you reached over the middle seat and took his hand in yours, “Thanks, Spence.” You whispered so that only he could hear, leaning over the gap between you and setting your head on his shoulder.

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 3 months ago

Text

House Calls.

Professor!Terrence x Aaliyah

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student.

Part Two

The calming effects of the incense burning within his Acadian–style home in Baton Raq. Lauryn Hill playing from a vinyl record was enough to ease his mind after grading over thirty midterm papers. Terry shut his laptop and released a soft sigh. He reached up with his long fingers, taking off his glasses. The burning at the corners of his blue-grey eyes caused him to rub. He was exhausted and in need of a long vacation somewhere tropical after this semester ended.

He pushed away from his elegant, black oak wood desk to stand, stretching his long legs and flexing his quads. Terry wore a boxy–fit graphic T-shirt with a photo of Nina Simone printed on the front and thigh–hugging drawstring, black shorts. His feet covered in long, black Adidas socks led him towards the door to his home office. He would have stepped on the tail of his British Brown Shorthair cat if he hadn’t spotted him creeping between his legs as he walked.

“Orion, watch out…”

The cat slowly moved away, staring up at Terry with its golden eyes.

His stomach grumbled. Terry remembered that he’d had leftover red beans and rice. He walked into his spacious kitchen, opening a cabinet to grab a soup bowl and then he strolled over to his silverware drawer, grabbing a large spoon. Ex–Factor faded in the background while he scooped the last of the food into his bowl. He paused, snapping his fingers in remembrance of the honey butter cornbread he’d made to eat with it.

After warming his food, Terry didn’t bother sitting in his dining room. He leaned over the counter and tucked into his food, appreciative sounds between bites mixed with his spoon scraping the side of the bowl the only noise. His tongue slipped out to catch a few crumbs from his lips after scarfing down the last of his cornbread. Terry shook his head and rubbed his belly as he cleared his mess.

“Damn good,” He muttered while walking towards his sink.

He accepted the burn of his muscles from his morning workout while crouching down to grab some surface disinfectant from beneath his sink. That let him know he went hard in the gym. His tongue smoothed over his teeth to get rid of food while he used a Bounty paper towel to clean. His eyes flicked to the window in his kitchen when he’d heard loud voices passing by his home.

The Apple Watch on his wrist with a stainless steel band alerted Terry to a phone call. He headed back to his office and reached over his desk to grab it from the charger.

“Wassam Bitch!”

Terry released a boisterous, deep laugh. All his teeth showing.

“Cousin! You good?” Terry replied.

“Chillin’ fam. Just left Unc house…”

“He straight?”

“You know how he do. Was in the garden wit’ his woman picking tomatoes and shit. I had to break it to ‘em that he ain’t invited tonight. HE CAN’T COME!”

“Mike, don’t do Unc like that…he wanna be there to support his son.”

“No old heads, TJ. We discussed this. I don’t want him getting a heart attack seeing all that buku ass clapping.”

Terry snickered with his phone to his ear as he made his way into his living room. He wanted to break in his new furniture.

“Layla snoopin’ ‘round the house. She heard about the strippers…”

“Thought you said she was cool about it?”

“She is. But ya know…”

Terry made a face on the other end of the line. He knew how his cousin could get. Tonight is indeed about fun, but if Mike messed up, Layla wouldn’t take him back a second time. Out of all the men attending, Terry is the most levelheaded. Majority of the men in his family and Mike’s friends were a bunch of crazy motherfuckers. He already knows how tonight is gonna turn out.

“No fuckin’ up, Cousin.” Terry stated.

“Already, Marine.” Mike joked.

——

She did a slow two–step with a roll of her hips in a sinuous manner to the late, great Aaliyah – she was honored to share her name – and Tank.

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (I just wanna)

Come over (Be with you, baby)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (Just wanna)

Yeah (Be with you, baby)…

Bonnet on her head, a tank top that’s way too cropped and showing off under–boob with skimpy hot pink boy shorts covered her curvy frame. Aaliyah had just finished making her bed, freshly laundered sheets feeling cozy beneath her hands as she spread out the wrinkles. The next song on her Slow Jamz playlist was Ciara–Promise. Aaliyah tapped the side of her mouth in thought while staring at the neatly stacked money on her side table. She didn’t feel like digging for her mini safe tucked in the back of her closet, but she needed to put the money somewhere safe.

She made almost three grand. Aaliyah really enjoyed herself a week ago at the Fire Station. She craved that attention and excitement. Doing content from home was great, but to show out in person? Oh…it stroked her so good. She was so damn ecstatic that she came home and rubbed one out with her fingers deep in her pussy. Making a man react the way he does to her literal being just ignited something in her.

Aaliyah placed the money in her safe and organized her closet. After that, she grabbed herself a bowl of green grapes and crawled into bed. She popped a grape into her mouth while watching re–runs of P–Valley on mute, eyes reading the subtitles. She already knew what was going on, just something to distract her. She rocked her body in bed to Donell Jones–This Luv, lip syncing and snapping her fingers.

She wondered what Professor Richmond was up to…

Aaliyah kissed her teeth at her lingering thoughts. This week was filled with tension. She walked into that classroom on Wednesday, hauling her school bag and a pep in her step. She dressed in skater jeans and a tight Ed Hardy T-shirt with a gray hoodie unzipped.

“Today class, we’ll discuss morality…”

He had a tiny sculpture of Aristotle in his hand, long, manicured fingers grasping it firm. Today, he wore a perfectly fitting, short sleeve, mock neck black shirt with charcoal grey slacks and black loafers. The glasses on his face reflected the light perfectly whenever he moved his head. It was something about his eyes today that just��drew Aaliyah in. They seemed brighter.

She propped her elbow on her desk and rested her chin in her hand. That foot started to bounce beneath her desk, and when his eyes met hers, she had to turn away to simmer down the butterflies. Something embarrassing happened in the middle of his lecture. She forgot to turn her ringer off, the lyrics to P*$$Y Fairy playing.

Don't be surprised, baby, it's just me (Just me)

Don't be surprised, boy, when I bust it wide

I hypnotize you with this pussy (Pussy)

Now you feel like you can fly—

“Sorry! Sorry…”

Aaliyah silenced her phone and with a sheepish smile she allowed her eyes to roam the class, catching on to a few snickers. She felt heat creeping over her honey skin. Aaliyah bashfully tucked hair behind her ear, and then her sultry gaze connected with Professor Richmond’s.

He had one brow quirked up and his eyes were unblinking and concentrated on her firm. He was the first to slowly pull his eyes away before clearing his throat to finish speaking. That look in his eyes…

After class, Aaliyah approached his desk to drop off an in class assignment. She left her hoodie at her desk. Terry was standing there, propping himself up against his desk with his fingertips. He allowed his eyes to scan her body. She paid attention to the way his piercing eyes fixated on the exposed skin of her midriff. A quick circular motion of his eyes on her breasts caused her to part her lips, the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

“Here?” Aaliyah pointed to the pile of untidy papers.

“Yes.” Terry replied with a slower tone.

She slipped it there, patting the top of it. Terry clenched his jaw, his eyes returning to his laptop.

“Have a good day…”

He couldn’t stop himself from standing at his full height. He exhaled a long breath, his eyes trapping her.

“Yes, Ma’am. You as well.”

Aaliyah gave him one final once over, her eyes doing a double take to the veins in his arms…

Damn…

She walked away, the silence in the lecture hall unnerving. Terry crossed his arms in front of him and rocked back and forth on his heels. He lowered his head and shook it from side to side with a smirk. Aaliyah made her way out of the room, itching to look back and wave, but instead she looked back and gave him one final word.

“Sorry about my ringtone…I know it was inappropriate…”

Terry licked his lips, “Don’t even remember the lyrics.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah finally leaving the class.

——

Stickin' to the code, all these hoes for the streets

I put it in her nose, it's gon' make her pussy leak

Pussy niggas told, ain't gon' wake up out they sleep

You can't hear that switch, but you can hear them niggas scream…

That imposing beat had the house jumping off. Like That lyrics bounced off the walls, hyping up the room full of men that came out to support Mike.

Got your girl in this bitch, she twirlin' on the dick (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

(He was once a thug, he was, he -)

I got syrup in this bitch, turn up in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

And it's 'bout the 'Ercs in this bitch, get murked in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)…

Terry wore an oversized tank top in beige with the sides cut low, giving you a peek at the muscles in his biceps and obliques. He gave himself a fresh line up and moisturized his low curls. Straight fit, light wash jeans hugged his lower half and he wore a pair of crisp, All White’s. Terry bopped his head precisely to the heavy bass, green solo cup in his hand between his lips. The gold Cuban link hanging from his neck matched the gold Cuban chain on his left wrist and the gold band of his Apple Watch on his right wrist.

The front door opened, more handsome black men pouring in and greeting everyone. Terry saluted the ones he recognized and shook hands firmly with those he didn’t. Terry knew the lyrics to Kendrick’s verse word for word. When the ‘Big Three’ line came up, everyone chimed in. Smile on his face, Terry headed towards the kitchen to fill his cup and mingle with some family he hadn’t seen in a while. He couldn’t believe his little cousins were old enough now to attend functions like this.

“This nigga freaked out already!”

One of Terry’s little cousins, Malik, who just turned 21 sucked his teeth at everyone laughing. Terry did notice the way he kept checking the door for the strippers every time it opened.

“They ain’t here yet, nigga!”

Mike entered the kitchen with enthusiasm and shades on. Terry caught the smell of weed on him when he approached his side. Terry picked up his trucker hat to clear some space from the kitchen island for more liquor bottles. A big ass bottle of Hennessy caught Terry’s eye. He was currently sipping on jungle juice.

“Got that shit that turn you into a beast, TJ. Real King Kong shit!” Mike shouted over the loud music.

“I see you came through,” Terry held the neck of the Hennessy bottle firm, veins in his arms popping out.

“We about to see TJ in rare form tonight!”

Terry shook his head at the men surrounding him all agreeing. He refused to let it get to him. He wasn’t the same tall, lanky kid from Red Stick. Wasn’t the same teenager who got picked on in the schoolyard for being too quiet or too nerdy. He was a grown ass man with intellect and vocabulary beyond the slang words and a muscle strength so powerful he could take down an entire room full of wannabe gangstas. But, he didn’t wear that on his sleeve. He remained stoic with his strong and silent presence. Tonight, however, he’d let himself enjoy what was to come. He had his money ready. He just hoped they were deserving of it.

He was a hard man to impress.

“Make yourself a stronger drink, Cousin. We got all night….”

Terry was more of a bourbon guy. But there wasn’t any around and he refused to bring his good shit for everybody to help themselves to. He poured Hennessy into his cup and took a sip. It was cool.

He sauntered towards the spread of party food they had catered. The smells made his mouth water. He grabbed himself a plate and piled fried chicken, smoked turkey greens, gator bites, mac and cheese, and whatever else he could fit. Today was his cheat day.

Terry ate his food while standing, catching bits and pieces of conversation here and there. On one end of the room, a group of men, most likely Mike’s friends, were laughing at whatever was on one of their phones. Across from him in the kitchen, there’s a debate about which they’d prefer: no ass and big titties or a big ass and no titties. Terry snorted. Childish behavior.

Tha Biz-, the Bizness

Uh, I like a long-haired, thick redbone

Open up her legs, then filet mignon that pussy

I'ma get in and on that pussy

If she let me in, I'ma own that pussy…

Terry didn’t care much for the mac and cheese. Too dry and not enough flavor. Every thing else was delicious. He tossed his plate and excused himself to the bathroom. He climbed the stairs to the guest bathroom instead of the basement because he was informed that the basement was reserved for the ladies who plan to entertain them tonight.

He relieved himself and flushed before washing his hands. He checked himself in the mirror making sure he hadn’t stained his new shirt.

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Terry could overhear the commotion downstairs.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…”

That sounded like Mike’s best man and bestfriend, Cliff.

“Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Terry left the bathroom and walked down the stairs at the same moment they closed the basement door behind them. His eyes that appeared blue–green in the dim light scanned the room, taking in the eager and impatient looks on the faces of men ready to throw cash.

“Fuck you mean they gotta get ready? Type of shit is this here?” One dude complained.

“They work at Crazy Horse, Bruda, you know how them dancers are.”

“Busted and dusted,” Another replied with a drunk cackle.

Terry held up the wall, cup in hand, tripping off of the conversation.

“Kiesha thick ass can get this anytime, anywhere…but that one that walked in last? Man…”

The man that spoke, short in height with a bald fade and teeth lined with gold caught Terry’s eyes and shook his head as he blew air out his cheeks. Terry smirked into his cup.

“She the truth. I wanna see what she do…”

“She one a ‘dem pretty natural ones…rare.”

That interested Terry. He paid closer attention.

“Probably taste like sugar.”

“Im’a put my tongue in it!”

Cliff cracked the door to the basement. He stuck his head between the opening and shouted down the steps. Terry could hear him communicating with one of the dancers. He shut the door quickly and motioned for his friend to pause the music.

“I’m a grab Mike. It’s about to go down.”

He did the Birdman hand rub as he rushed away to collect the groom. The room started to flood with the others, all too anxious to get a glimpse and participate in the fun. Terry pat his back pocket, feeling the folded stack of cash he’d brought. He had more tucked away in his wallet just in case. Mike entered the room cross–faded. He moved with unsteady legs and a bottle in hand, the contents almost spilling onto the carpet.

Terry grabbed the bottle and sat it down on a table.

“AIGHT! ITS ABOUT TO JUMP OFF YA’LL READY?!!!”

Someone activated the strobe lights and the room flooded with ultraviolet light. The melanin in the room looked a deep blue beneath the black lights. Terry knocked the rest of his drink back and sat his cup down next to the Hennessy bottle Mike was holding. From the corner of his eye, he could see someone carrying a chair out from the dining room. They forced Mike to sit, Terry laughing at his cousin’s goofy smile.

Ear Drummers

Strippers

Mike WiLL Made-It

Bands a make her dance

Bands a make her dance…

The door opened and Terry locked his eyes forward, cupping his mouth and howling along with the others.

——

Aaliyah couldn’t control her indecisive habits if she tried. She’d spent majority of her day into the early afternoon cleaning and now her room looked like a disaster. It was nearing eight and she still couldn’t decide what to wear! Keisha was gonna kill her ass…

Aaliyah flipped through her clear tote filled with old outfits from her stripper days. She was about to give up and settle for a neon green fishnet set until she spotted a bright pink holster top with matching bottoms. There were hot pink fishnets with the back cut out for her ass that she could pair with it. Oh! pink pasties over the nipples would spice it up real nice. Aaliyah remembered her seven inch stiletto heels with rhinestone fringes. Perfect. She quickly grabbed it and worked as fast as she could, glancing at her phone.

So far, Keisha hadn’t called her. Aaliyah slipped off her satin, black robe and flung it over the chair situated in front of her vanity. She already applied her body oil with the aroma of fresh peaches blended perfectly with a hint of the tropics creating this rich, sweet, sultry scent. Her favorite fairy dust body powder clung to her soft skin and glittered in the light like diamonds.

Aaliyah tied the last tight bow on her bottoms before sitting to slip on her heels. She decided to go with a light beat, not wanted to wear anything too heavy and end up sweating it all off. She tapped the screen of her phone and with twenty minutes left, she swooped her edges and sprayed oil sheen over her two, long braids. Her French tip fingers smoothed down as much frizz as she could to keep it neat.

Situated in front of her body length mirror, Aaliyah admired the final look. Lastly, she tugged on a white, bodycon dress with a sway of her hips.

Buzz Buzz…Buzz Buzz…

“Hello?”

“I’m outside. Diamond and Precious is in the back. You ready?”

“Yeah,” Aaliyah grabbed a pair of black, thong flip flops, “heading out now.”

She ended the call and with one final sweep of her room, she turned off the lights and headed straight for the door. Stanley cup in the crease of her arm, she locked her front door. Aaliyah angled her body, descending the stairs carefully. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened a year ago. She sprained her ankle so bad she couldn’t dance for two months.

Kiesha rolled the window down to her Hellcat, smoke billowing out. Aaliyah rolled her eyes. She did not want weed smell lingering on her. Keisha leaned over and opened the door since Aaliyah’s hands were full. She climbed in and shut the door, Keisha not waiting a moment longer before hitting the gas hard. Aaliyah looked over at Keisha with a mug on her face while her friend laughed.

She noticed that she was the only one ready. Aaliyah looked back at Diamond and Precious. Redbone Diamond had her bubble gum pink frontal pinned up while holding a Hello Kitty compact mirror as steady as she could, drawing on her thin eyebrows. She had on a matching camouflage, short set. Aaliyah recognized that set from Fashion Nova. Her eyes moved towards Precious. Precious was a tiny girl. Petite and spunky. She had a buz cut dyed blonde. She was wearing her outfit beneath a tube dress while puffing on a fat blunt. Her eyes squinted at Aaliyah before giving her a toothy grin filled with braces.

“How ya’ll been?” Aaliyah asked.

“Good!” Diamond replied.

“Straight! How ‘bout you?” Precious said.

“Been good. Dealing wit’ school. Good to see ya’ll. Ready for tonight?”

“Can’t wait!”

“Turnt!” Diamond shouted before snapping her mirror shut, “Pass that here…”

Aaliyah relaxed into her seat.

“Girl, you told me to be ready by eight. Why the fuck you ain’t dressed?”

Keisha reached back, accepting the blunt while one–hand whipping the car.

“Cliffy told me we could use the basement if we needed to. I brought all the goods just in case. The coochie spray for Diamond—”

“BITCH don’t get hurt!”

Aaliyah chuckled.

“You got your LED plug?” Keisha asked Aaliyah excitedly.

Aaliyah dragged her upper teeth over her bottom lip with a mischievous smile.

“Nasty bitch….lemme see it.”

Aaliyah leaned her body against the door so her meaty buns could face Keisha. She lifted her white bodycon dress over her cakes and with one hand, she spread one hefty cheek. There, buried in her ass, was the LED plug. It lit up like a pair of sketchers. Keisha giggled.

“Girrrrrlllllllllll I told Cliff about you…”

Aaliyah fixed herself and straightened up in her seat.

“Keisha, don’t set me up with no nigga. No more of that shit.” Aaliyah retorted.

“I didn’t set you up. He remembers you from Crazy Horse. When he used to show up on Tuesdays…”

“Keish, not that nigga…he ugly and his breath stank. You know exactly what to do to piss me off!”

Diamond and Precious cackled in the back seat.

“His dick big.” Keisha replied as if that would change Aaliyah’s mind.

“Bitch, big dick, little dick, a dick made out of the purest gold if phat ma don’t get wet and this heart don’t skip a beat I’m not finna give you my time. That shit is crazy…”

“You shake ass for an ugly nigga though.” Keisha argued back.

“THEY PAYIN’ ME! Girl…” Aaliyah kissed her teeth, fixing her lash extensions because the windows are rolled down, “How far out?”

“Ten minutes.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way while blasting a bounce mix. Keisha’s Hellcat slowed to a stop in front of a cute little house with a lengthy drive way. Kiesha parked on the grass and killed the ignition. She gave the blunt one final hit before tossing it out the window. The ladies exited the car and before the went inside, Keisha had an idea for them to take some pics and video before heading in. Aaliyah acted as photographer and videographer while Diamond, Precious and Keisha did their thing.

When they finished, Keisha begged Aaliyah to do a video. Aaliyah scoped out the area and yanked her dress off, darting to stand next to a white SUV parked haphazardly on the front lawn. Keisha moved her phone in different angles, Aaliyah staring back at her with a hand on the car and her ass moving like a tidal wave.

“Damn, mama…show out!”

Diamond and Precious clapped their hands in time to Aaliyah’s twerking.

“Cool it nah,” Aaliyah shooed them off before putting her dress back on, “You see that?”

The other ladies followed her gaze through the windows of the home. They all gawked at the amount of men throughout that house.

“Dayummmmm…we leaving chubby tonight. Money, money, money!” Diamond said.

This was Aaliyah’s vibe. Although she had a ball at the fire station, nothing compared to a room full of black men. She grinned beautifully and squealed. They grabbed their things and Aaliyah was last to trail behind because she forgot her thong flip flops. Keisha knocked on the door boldly and it opened two seconds later.

It was Cliff.

He hugged Keisha and kissed her cheek. Cliff did the same greeting for Diamond and Precious. However. He held his hand out for Aaliyah. Her sultry eyes flicked to Keisha then back at Cliff. She accepted his hand and he guided her inside softly, his eyes scanning her body.

“Liyah Alllure…mmm, mmm, mmm…”

“Hey you,” Aaliyah titled her head in greeting with a sweet smile.

“Still just as gorgeous…happy you could join us tonight.”

“Happy to be here…”

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Some dude with a skinny frame and a gold grill greeted them. They all said hello, ignoring the men in the room eye–fucking them. Aaliyah could suffocate from their stares alone.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Aaliyah remained close behind Precious as they disappeared into the basement. The door shut behind her with a soft click. They entered the finished basement and Aaliyah excused herself to the rest room. She’d been drinking water all day and needed to go before doing a bunch of dancing. Keisha got dressed while Precious and Diamond helped each other out on jewelry. Aaliyah exited the bathroom in just her pink, outfit with rhinestones to match her heels.

“How we goin’ in? One by one or?” Diamond questioned.

She was dressed in neon green. A full body fishnet outfit with black stilettos. Aaliyah was happy she decided on the ensemble she had on.

“One by one. I’m supposed to give the lap dance. After that, ya’ll come out. Simple.” Keisha said.

The intro to Bandz A Make Her Dance started playing.

“That’s me!” Keisha stood up. She was wearing a white cowgirl hat with a fringe bikini set to match and white stilettos. She reminded Aaliyah of Megan The Stallion with her blue hair cascading down her back.

Keisha climbed the stairs and when the door opened, howling and yelling pierced her ears. The other three ladies shared a look with each other and laughed.

“I’m a need some liquor.” Aaliyah said.

——

Terry’s bottom lip sat between his teeth to contain his laughter.

When the first girl entered, going by the name of Keisha, he loved her vibrant personality and spit fire attitude. Keisha had the men in that room foaming at the mouth. She sashayed over to Mike with that brazen attitude and revealing body. Ain’t no way in hell she could fit that white bikini set and that was the point. Terry’s brows rose in surprise at Keisha straddling Mike. Her bountiful curves almost swallowed him while he was in that chair. Big ol’ ass and fat titties. That country thick you got lost in.

Terry grunted when she turned and made that big, fucking ass clap in Mike’s face. His thick brows knitted together and he shared a look with a friend before chuckling. Mike didn’t know what do to. He kept his hands to his sides, grasping the back legs of the chair he was stuck in.

“All that ass, Mike!”

“You better get it in while you can!”

“Suffocate that nigga, Keisha!”

“You good down there groom?” Keisha teased.

Money flew in the air when she plucked her top off. When them titties dropped, Terry’s large hand stuffed into his back pocket. He didn’t make it rain yet, he was waiting for Keisha to do something special. The body was crazy, but where’s the tricks?

“Throw that shit, TJ.” His friend nudged him with his elbow.

Terry ignored him.

Keisha stood up and went down to the floor in front of Mike in a split. She made those twin globes dribble and that was good enough to earn some of his cash. Terry leaned over the back of Mike’s chair and flicked two Benjamin’s on her. He watched it connect with that ass before falling to the floor. Keisha arched forward and spread her cheeks before going into a head stand.

She shook her legs and clicked her heels before dropping into another split.

“THERE YOU GO!”

“Baby going stupid…”

“Buku ass…”

Terry remained close. Keisha’s eyes locked onto him and it was enough to bring her to her feet. Terry held her steady gaze, a smirk teasing his thick lips.

“You a pretty nigga, ain’t you?” Keisha walked up on him with her hands on her hips, “What’s your name?!”

“TJ.” Terry replied.

Keisha pushed her breasts up with her fists in his face.

“Like what you see with those green eyes. A pretty boi like you ain’t used to a woman like me, huh?”

Terry’s tongue grazed his bottom lip and he locked on to the dizzying motion of her fat tits. Bringing his eyes back on her, he displayed a bill and sat it in the crease. Keisha leaned forward and grabbed the money with her teeth.

“Keep impressin’ me and there’s more for you…”

Keisha had to blink out of a trance. Terry had this unspoken power that rendered her speechless. To top it all off, that deep baritone shot straight to her clit.

“Come get this money, baby!”

Keisha pulled herself away from Terry, but not before dragging a hand down his chest. The look in her hazel eyes told him she wanted to do more than give him a lap dance.

She wanted to spin on that dick.

The door pushed open and the next girl to enter had pink hair. She was a cutie.

“I’m Diamond…”

When she turned, Terry looked away.

A BBL. A bad one at that.

He folded his money back up and made his way to where he stood earlier. The other men in the room were probably so used to seeing it that it didn’t even phase them. Terry watched Diamond do her thing. She hit the splits, shook that ass as best she could, but it was boring. Terry filled his cup and just vibed, laughing at the way some of the men in the room went bonkers over her. Even Mike was stuck. Mouth wide and eyes equally wide.

Next came a tiny girl that showed off acrobatic skills and flexibility. Terry had his money out again and he made it rain on her. She made that little booty shake. Keisha was making her way around, grinding and talking shit. Diamond allowed some of the men to grab ass. The three women scoped out Terry and winked at him. He played nice with Diamond and slipped her a crisp bill. With the tiny one named Precious, he tipped more.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

Cliff scanned the room. Another girl?

“There’s more?! Ahhh shit…”

——

Aaliyah watched from the bottom of the stairs as Precious made her entrance. She wrung her hands and exhaled a sigh. She didn’t know what to expect past those doors. Aaliyah applied more gloss and with a shaky hand, she grasped the railing and climbed. They kept the light off to avoid being spotted right away. Aaliyah stared through the crack of the door at Precious working the room.

So many…so many men.

The floor was covered with money.

She allowed her eyes to scan, taking everything in. As her eyes swept past the groom in his chair, she couldn’t see the entire room because of the door, but the sound of Cliff’s voice let her know it was time.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

“Put on her old intro!”

That was Keisha’s voice.

Aaliyah felt her nerves settle. The blacklights and the song reminded her of Crazy Horse. This was her walk out song….

Waka Flocka Ft. Roscoe Dash–No Handz Instrumental.

With one hand Aaliyah pushed open that door and stepped one shaky leg out past the darkness. The ultraviolet light caused her skin to twinkle and the blue hue made the pink she wore pop. She fully came into view, her tongue curled up over her top teeth to tease and those ‘come fuck me eyes’ staring into the faces of horny men with the money she wanted.

She allowed her body to rock to the beat. Aaliyah turned her back on everyone, brought her hands up, and gave them a thunderous applause with that beautiful ass before arching her back. She twerked those honey buns and looked back at it before a lusty smile appeared on her lips. Both hands twirled her braids while she rocked those hips.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

Bounce, Bounce, Bounce

*clap clap clap*

Nobody wasted time throwing money. She could work that entire room on her own. Aaliyah got down on her hands and knees, crawling like a jungle cat before turning to show off that LED plug while twerking.

“You see that shit?!”

“Hot damn!”

“Fuck, she’s nice.”

“C’mere pretty lady…”

“Freaky girl!”

That song…she owned it.

She staked her claim on it.

She spread those legs on her back and gyrated, thighs separated and the barely there crotch of her pink bikini covering her meaty pussy lips. She rubbed the money that rained down on her into her pussy and around her breasts. They…were…obsessed.

The way she looked at you, it made you feel like the only man in the world worthy of her attention.

How nasty she talked…

“I better see some thick bulges tonight, boys…”

On her feet, Aaliyah strutted dangerously slow, further into the crowd of men. As her eyes swept, she came across a pair of blue eyes that reminded her of a bottle of Hypnotiq beneath the blacklights. Too familiar…

Holy FUCKING shit…

She tried to mask her surprise but his was so boldly present.

The Professor.

His jaw dropped, eyes widening in disbelief as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through his veins leaving him momentarily stunned. To others, it could seem as if Terry was so overwhelmed with how motherfucking fine Aaliyah is that he couldn’t even function. She knew the real reason. She simmered down her astonishment as best as she could and turning away, focusing on a cute guy with thick locs to his shoulders.

Her heart raced. Panic consumed her.

She had no time to panic.

“Prettiest thang in Louisiana…”

Aaliyah cupped her breasts covered in nipple tape and licked her lips. She could feel Terry’s gaze burning a hole into the side of her face. She was nervous. Oh so nervous. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Everybody was too drunk or too hype to take notice.

all except Professor Richmond. He could see right through her.

What the fuck was he doing here of all places?!

She blended in with her girls and tried her best to shield herself from Terry’s view.

That intensity in his eyes this time around left her shaken up.

Aaliyah pushed herself to perform. The space was too cramped. They scattered to watch her hit a clean split and when she glanced over her shoulder, Terry was right there. Like he appeared out of thin air.

He was standing above her. Towering over her. She had no choice but to look up.

Aaliyah couldn’t hide. She couldn’t if she tried.

“Back up, TJ. I’m tryna see all that…”

He was shoved to the side and Aaliyah felt the rain of money on her while she avoided Terry’s hard eyes zeroed in on her ass. He was so stuck.

Her breath hitched at the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to ravage her.

Her eyes glided down his frame and she loved the way he dressed. He looked delectable.

“Arch that back, bitch…”

“Yeahhhh…”

Aaliyah grabbed her ankles and made each cheek dance on its own. The heavy bass and quick melody of the bounce song compelled her to shake some ass.

The sound of her pulse in her ears drowned out the music. She locked eyes with him again and for once she grew timid. His eyes drank her in and when she lifted one leg up to pop that ass he chewed on that lip and tilted his head to see how that pussy looked from that angle.

You like what you see, huh?

“You got skills baby…Think you can show me more?”

Terry cut his eyes at the men circling Aaliyah.

Things were turning up like a raging storm.

“Pull that pussy part…”

They wanted to see her pussy. Aaliyah giggled and trailed a finger between her legs before rubbing it against one of their noses. They enjoyed that way too much. He tried to suck on that finger but Terry yoked him up by the wrist. The dread head looked at Terry like he was asking for a death wish.

“We don’t touch unless they say so…remember the rules.”

“Let go, nigga. I don’t need you tellin’ me what the fuck to do…”

“Woah, woah, woah…”

Aaliyah used that opportunity to disappear. A prickling sensation shot up her spine. She slipped down into the basement and hid herself within the darkness.

She needed a second.

“Get it together, Liyah…”

Aaliyah picked up a shorty bottle of Paul Masson Peach and took a long swig. She recapped the drink and scrunched her face from the burn. Aaliyah shook out her hands to stop them from trembling. How was she going to show her face in class on Wednesday?

All she would be able to think about was the shock on his face. There was no turning back. Aaliyah drank some more. She needed the liquor to get her through the rest of the night. The door to the basement opened and Keisha appeared. She had a look of concern on her face.

“Li–Li. You okay?”

“I’m fine, Keisha. Go back up. I was just feeling a little queasy that’s all.”

“Some shit was about to pop off. Did they touch you without your consent?”

“It’s cool. I’ll be up…”

“Don’t lie to me Li–Li…”

Aaliyah gave Keisha a reassuring smile.

“No reason to lie, mamas. I’m feeling better,” Aaliyah pushed herself up, “C’mon…”

——

Frozen.

When that door pushed open and she crept out like a sex goddess, he almost spilled his cognac.

Aaliyah?

The small hairs across his arms stood on end. Desire rushed in the moment the initial shock faded.

*clap clap clap*

Gahdamn…

He knew it. He fucking knew it.

That body outta be in a museum. This fine ass woman held a confidence so powerful he could bend at her will.

Terry Richmond sucked in a breath when her eyes connected with his.

He saw the power drain from her like Superman to Kryptonite. Terry’s chest grew tight. She drew in closer, his mouth unhinged. The glitter on her skin and the smell of her sweet fragrance made the big boy between his legs react.

Down boy…

He fought the urge to palm his bulge because it was growing out of his control. He didn’t know where to look first. Those titties sat up round and perfect. That ass was so fat he wanted to sink his teeth in it. Leave his imprint on that thick fucking shit. His eyes still lit up like Miracle on 34th Street from the glow emitting from that asshole.

Freak nasty.

He was speechless. His star pupil is a Stripper.

The biggest plot twist.

Terry wanted her even more. He wanted to tell her that it was going to be okay and she didn’t need to feel embarrassed or afraid. He could sense she was trying to avoid him as she moved around the room.

Terry needed her to know that he liked what he saw.

They weren’t in his classroom. It was okay to free her inhibitions and show him what Liyah Allure is all about. He found her popping ass and talking shit.

“Tip me, daddy…”

“You want it?”

“Don’t just stare at me. Spoil me…”

Honeyed voice as smooth as silk. Terry drew in closer and allowed himself to be consumed by her.

The glitter on her skin looked edible and if he could lick every single fleck off with his tongue he would.

The dip in her spine leading down to a full ass with hips and thighs to match told him she could take it deep and it would be a warm, tight, wet paradise.

He did say he wanted to escape somewhere tropical…

Those two braids would be anchored around his hands while he drilled deep with every goddamn stroke of his fat dick.

Unh…Unh…Unh…

Make her weep on his dick.

Professor…Professor…Don’t stop…

There she was.

Those eyes focused on him again and he saw the hint of shyness.

“I wanna pull that pussy part…”

Something primal and predatory sparked within him. Aaliyah stroked her lower lips with a single finger and shoved that finger against Darrell’s nose.

Darrell tried to take it too far.

Terry was quicker.

He wrapped his large hand around Darrell’s wrist with a vice grip similar to a boa constrictor. He would knock the daylights outta Darrell and leave him slumped over if he so much as put that finger in his mouth.

Darrell was stunned by Terry’s strength and the fact that he couldn’t break free. Weak ass nigga…

She disappeared.

Mike came over to settle down the growing altercation and with a pat on Terry’s back, he walked away in search of Aaliyah. She was nowhere in sight.

Terry waited for about ten minutes and then she resurfaced from the basement with Keisha. She probably needed a moment to gather her thoughts and energy. His presence stumped her.

Aaliyah scanned the room until she found Terry.

She got down on her hands and knees and popped ass in a split. Nobody else in that room mattered. She locked in on him from across the room. Terry sipped his drink and watched her.

“Who wants a private show?!”

Keisha pointed at Terry.

He gave a quick nod of his head. Keisha was about to be let down. He ain’t want nobody but Aaliyah. She was getting the rest of his money tonight. She deserves it and so much more. And when Terry gets his hands on her…

“I’ll take one. But I want her.”

Aaliyah saw the cash in his hand and smiled.

“Only if she ain’t scared.”

Aaliyah couldn’t believe he just said that.

“I get the impression she likes to tease…”

Aaliyah walked up to Terry with a seductive look in her eyes. He held onto her gaze with his money on display.

“Your call, beautiful.”

Aaliyah stared at him for another moment before taking him by the hand and down into the basement.

——

Terry allowed her to guide him. They headed towards the sofas, silence hanging between them. Aaliyah turned fully to face him before Terry took a seat. Without taking his eyes off of her, he placed his cup on the table and settled back into the cushion. Terry spread his thighs and with one hand over the top of the couch, the other smoothed down his left thigh invitingly. Aaliyah dropped her eyes to his lap and with a faint smile, she took a seat where his hand once was.

Aaliyah watched him spread his money out across his other thigh. She parted her glossy lips a fraction, eyeing nothing but one hundred dollar bills. Her eyes lit up. Terry looked up at her with low, lust filled eyes and a sly smirk. He removed his glasses with one hand and folded it against his chest before sitting it on the table, all while staring at her.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

“…I don’t know what to say…”

Aaliyah’s eyelashes fluttered as she blinked away from him. Terry used his thumb to gently pull her attention back towards him.

“I should be embarrassed right now…”

Terry was trying to keep his composure but her breasts in his face was melting his cool exterior.

“Aaliyah…I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. I’m not judging you…”

She giggled nervously, “maybe not…but this was so unexpected, ya know?”

“Very. How long have you been doing this?”

Aaliyah stared heavenward shyly while deep in thought. He liked seeing her like this. It was another side to her he enjoyed.

“Well…this in particular…it’s my second time. Stripping…I did it for about five years before I quit Crazy Horse a year ago…now I just film content and work Verizon part time.”

Her eyes connected with his again.

“So…what do ya want me to do? A lap dance? What?”

Terry trailed his eyes down her body.

“Do whatever makes you feel comfortable…”

Terry’s hand molded into her back. Aaliyah shivered. The feeling of his hand on her skin was exhilarating.

She stood, facing Terry. He placed his money beside him, and his hands out of the way. Aaliyah straddled him, bracing herself on his shoulders. She looked down at him with a slow blink and the erotic smile she gave him forced his hands into fists.

“Have you ever had a lap dance before, Professor?”

“…Call me Terrence.”

“…Terrence…”

“Once. It wasn’t memorable.” Terry responded with a hushed tone.

He reclined his head back slightly and stared up into her eyes with practiced restraint.

Aaliyah gave him a mean whine over his crotch. Her chest would graze his goatee ever so slightly. He had to stop his tongue from poking out to drag between those titties.

“Ooh, that’s too bad…is this okay?”

That melodic voice…

“You’re doin’ just fine, Miss Aaliyah.”

Terry flexed his fingers. Aaliyah looked down at his hands.

“Can I admit something?” Aaliyah asked with a sultry smile.

“What’s that?”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled softly. She blinked away briefly before her eyes met his again.

“What?” Terry pushed.

“I think about you every day…”

“Enough to stick around after class?”

Aaliyah’s bottom lip sat between her teeth. Terry smiled.

“Why did you turn me down?” He questioned.

Aaliyah dragged her hands down his chest and stilled her hips. Terrence rested his hands on the sides of her thighs. He couldn’t resist. Aaliyah didn’t protest.

The feel of her against his hands. The heft of her on him. The images he pictured in his mind…

“I’m not an easy girl, Terrence. You gotta work harder for me. I wanted you to…”

“Chase you.” Terry concluded with an elevated brow.

“May seem silly but…it turns me on.”

“I wonder what else turns you on…”

“That brain of yours,” Aaliyah trailed her fingers through his short, soft curls, “Your passion…expressive hands…your voice…those eyes…”

Terry licked his lips, “I would have chased you and went along with your lil’ game. If that means I get to play with you in the end…”

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“You do this…tongue bite thing…I like that…” Terry said.

“What else you like?” Aaliyah asked softly, doing exactly what Terry liked. Displaying the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Moving it back and forth…

“Everything about you…you’re so damn sexy…the way you look at me just…Aaliyah, you’re aware of your beauty. That confidence lights a fire under me, baby…”

“I’m baby?”

“Mhm, the prettiest baby…”

Aaliyah played with his Cuban link. Terry’s right thumb stroked the beauty mark below her lip.

Terry groped her thigh with his free hand and glided it up to her waist. He used his thumb to trace circles into her soft skin.

“I don’t like how you put your finger on Darrell’s nose.”

“You wish it were you? Darrell didn’t get a lap dance…”

Aaliyah lifted from his lap and turned so that she was grinding against his tent with enough pressure to rub her pussy over it. The hard bulge against her fat, lower lips caused her to moan.

Terry threw money over her, his ears enjoying the way her moans sounded so angelic despite her naughty actions.

After all, she is The Dark Angel.

“Aaliyah…”

That signature look back would have had him busting a fat ass nut in his jeans.

The way she moved her hips on him.

“I want you so fuckin’ bad…”

“I know.”

She smiled.

Aaliyah stood from his lap and Terry groaned deep.

“Times up.”

He glared at her with lust and frustration. Aaliyah leaned over him with her hands on the back of the couch. Their eyes connected and her glossy lips feathered over his.

“Until next time…I think I’m free for that lunch on Wednesday…”

She brought her lips to his cheek and with her jeweled tongue, Aaliyah dragged it over his ear tantalizingly slow. She pushed away from him and Terry stood from the couch. He fixed his attire while Aaliyah stared up at him with faux innocence and her hands crossed behind her back. She swayed back and forth, parting her lips to rest her tongue in the corner of her mouth.

“It’s a date.”

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

#aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre #rebel ridge #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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ultravi0lence14 · 23 days ago

Text

GROTESQUE GARDENING

DEAN WINCHESTER X DEMON!READER

WARNINGS: gory details, descriptions of violence, bloody fluff

SUMMARY: what does his little monster do all day? that’s what dean asks himself regularly. well, he finally decided to figure it out

WC: 1.5k

LITTLE MONSTER’S CABINET OF CURIOSITIES

the haunting sound of vinyl singing through the open mouth of a gramophone rings throughout the bunker, alerting dean in his own room just a wall away from yours. your music rattled through dean’s bones like a chill, dark and deep wordless tunes that sounded as though they should be played in dracula’s castle. it was very you, and dean found a thrumming vessel inside of him that didn’t mind the noise.

his little monster, the demon who was feared by her own kind. you were unique in your own, a bone chilling waltz of macabre and bloodshed. yet dean loved you exactly how you were. yeah, some of your hobbies and interests were a little creepy and messy, but it made you happy, so why should he complain?

though as he laid in bed, the gothic noises from your room made him start to wonder; what do you do all day?

it was a fair question. when you weren’t with the brothers, killing supernatural creatures, or hanging onto dean’s side, he never really knew where you went off to. all he knew is that you usually came back covered in dirt or blood, hands a mess as you carried jars filled with various critters and insects.

his curiosity peaked further as he heard a faint hum from the other side of his wall, a melodic sound that was far too concentrated for you to be doing nothing. with a huff, dean’s sock clad feet hit the cold floor, black sweatpants swaying with his movements as he took the short walk from his room to your peculiar emporium.

the door was slightly cracked, and as dean peaked his head inside, it was like he entered a dark and eerie world. shadow boxes filled with taxidermies of insects such as spiders, butterflies, and moths filled your room, their sullen and piercing eyes staring back at dean with no emotion. your bed was harrowing in the room, a large figure of black velvet headboards and dark purple sheets. it was fit for the bride of grim, which to dean, you were.

the dark, moody gray of your walls contrasted with all the antique and barbarous trinkets on your desk and other flat surfaces. yet somehow, dean’s eyes couldn’t stray away from you.

your back was facing him as you hunched over your desk, bare feet kicking back and forth as you examined the insides of some animal. you had on a mid length black skirt, lace designs up the fabric that had dean drawn to the expanse of your legs. a black corset top resided on your upper half, your pale arms and collarbone blinding as dean allowed his greedy stare to encompass you.

your hair was twisted in two messy space buns at the nape of your neck, not allowing your ivory hair of raven cover the plethora of vintage necklaces around your throat.

the dead craved to touch you. a swirl of beauty wrapped in dead flowers that crawled with moths. dean was so hypnotized by you, so enthralled with your unique and effortless beauty, that he didn’t even notice you staring at him. a delightful smile was plastered on your face, and you shyly dropped your scalpel before fully turning to dean.

“hey, angel.” you called to him, using the nickname that was reserved to only come from your lips. the black stool scrapped out beneath you as your feet made their way over to where dean stood, wrapping your arms around his neck. “what’s up?”

the gothic revival singing through your vinyl, mixed in with the soft and quiet cadence of your voice, created a dark and beautiful melodic waltz that had dean drawing in closer to you. his lips briefly brushed your forehead, your scent of black dahlia’s wafting through his nose before he returned your question.

“wanted to be with you, little monster.” he grinned, bringing a hand up to swipe at your deep coloured lips. “want to see what you do when i’m not around.”

your face shadows like a finished eclipse, the dark confines of your face turning bright as you beam up at dean. the skeletal bones of your fingers clutched tighter to the nape of dean’s neck, pulling yourself up on your tippy toes so you could put your face right in front of his. “really? don’t you think my hobbies are gross?”

dean just chuckles, blinking as your eyelashes flutter against his. “yeah, sometimes. but i love all of you, baby. wanna show you that.”

the only indication that you were excited about the adventures the day held was the bounce in the balls of your feet, your face going closer and closer to dean’s before you pecked his eyelid and scurried over to your closet.

“i’m just gonna quickly grab my coat and then we can go!”

“don’t forget those pretty rain boots i bought you, little monster!”

the sloshy sounds of mud squelching beneath shoes was all to be heard in the solemn and barren graveyard. dean walked a little ways behind you as your head turned from side to side in eager movements, black trench coat swaying behind you as you moved.

your black rain boots were already caked in mud, and dean was glad that you listened to him and put them on. you had a tendency to go out barefoot, and dean didn’t want to have to clean your mud tracks in the bunker.

a grim fairytale made to walk through the dead and decaying; that’s what you were to dean. you looked so in your element, hands and knees stained in mud as you bent down to dig through the piles for insects. you had a little black bag slung over your shoulder, and it was filled to the brim with jars so you could bring your little findings home with you.

dean didn’t say a word, just followed you around as a dog would with their owner. he watched in awe as you worked, slowly shifting through different area’s of the burial grounds and allowing the little critters to squirm and wiggle around in your palms when you found one interesting.

you were a black swan; so pretty yet so dark in your own, enchanting ways. you owned who you were, and you didn’t really mind if anyone gave you weird stares for how you dressed or acted. you’re a demon for christ’s sake, though your reserved and shy attitude wouldn’t allude to that at all.

skies above dropped little pellets of rain down on you and dean, drizzling around you two while the groggy and fog filled atmosphere added to the macabre feeling in the air. this was your element, and dean could easily see that as your hands and clothes grew more and more muddy.

dean watched as you got down on your knees, mud smearing across your skirt as your hunched over frame dug and dug through the soupy material. “you making potions over there, baby?” dean joked, legs moving him closer towards you so he could loom over your shoulder.

you just scoffed, hands still rapidly clawing through the mud that started caking beneath your fingernails. “i’m trying to find a certain type of spider dean. they usually can be found around area’s like this.”

the man in question just laughed, head leaning down so he could press a chaste kiss on the crown of yours. he watched for a couple more minutes as your skeletal fingers dug through the earth, quiet hums of gothic songs and low grunts when you didn’t find what you were looking for.

like a ravened crow in a medieval jack in the box, you sprung up from your kneeled position, leaving the dirt piles behind and high tailing it to the closest mausoleum. dean’s brows furrowed as he slowly followed behind you, listening to the ancient creak of metal squealing open when you entered the decrepit tomb. his head peaked in behind you, the damp and stale air hitting his nostrils as he watched you flounce around like a deathly woman on an even deadlier mission.

“whatcha doin’ baby?” dean singsonged, listening to your rain boots scuttle around the floor as you looked for something specific.

a frazzled expression grew in your hellfire eyes, and dean was worried your head was going to explode. “spiders dean! i need to find spiders!” your words were so jumbled, dean didn’t even know if this was his raven queen talking back to him. “this specific specie of spider rests around graveyards, but i know they also dwell in dark spaces.”

dean just laughed, shaking his head at his bloody girl running around a mausoleum, trying to find spiders.

“what’s so important about these spiders?” he questioned, watching intently as you stopped and turned to look at him with wide eyes. “what’s so important?” you reflected, hair swaying above your neck as your head shook at the movement of your surprise. “i need them to finish my collection dean! if i don’t, what am i going to put over my bed?”

you were such an enigma; a dark and beautiful living dead. no one would expect you and dean to work together, but you did. and even now, as he stood at the doorway of an old mausoleum, watching as his girl ran around trying to collect spiders, he knew that his life would never be the same if he hadn’t met his little monster.

TAGS: @starzify @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @figthoughts @foolinthera1n @haunteres @vaiieydoii

NAT BABBLES: didn’t want to make this one too long but here’s @titsout4jackles & i’s little monster again!! we’ve come up with so many scenarios for her it isn’t even funny!!

DIVIDER CREDS TO BREE!!

#little monster #dean winchester x demon!reader #ultravi0lence14 #supernatural #dean winchester #imagine #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x reader #fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader

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writing-in-the-impala · 1 month ago

Text

Secret Smokes (Part 17)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2500

A/N: wow she's back? Hello if you're still reading thank you so much, it's been a year since I posted the NYE chapter and it's once again NYE which I consider unofficial Secret Smokes day so I'm back, I can't promise regular updates but I promise the chapters are just gonna get longer and jucier from now on. I plan to make this 20 chapters so the countdown to the end starts now. I've missed you all!

| SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 17, Next Chapter

Sirius opened the door with a big grin, then you saw surprise, than an even bigger grin. "Y/N!" He exclaimed hugging you.

"Hello." You said in a cheery voice slightly overwhelmed by the greeting.

"I'm so glad you came, Remus you can leave." He said as a joke stepping out the way to let you both in. Remus and Sirius did hug hello after you walked in, it warmed your heart to see Remus loved by someone. You settled in the first floor in the drawing room which had two large sofas a large fireplace flanked by two ornate glass-fronted cabinets, and an entire wall covered with a tapestry of the Black family tree. You sat down next to Remus and Sirius sat opposite you after serving you with tea, he was excited to have you there, giddy almost. "I've been waiting for Remus to finally bring you over so we can chat." Sirius explained as he put an abnormal amount of sugar cubes in his tea. "He says he's worried someone from the order will bump into you but I think he's scared of all the embarrassing stories." Sirius explained, Remus rolled his eyes.

"You know I think you're right, but finally we have the opportunity for you to tell me everything." You replied matching Sirius's energy and shooting him a wink.

"First tell me how did you convince this loser to change his mind as no matter how hard I tried nothing worked."

"I guess I have my ways."

"She's very charming." Remus chirped in.

"Oh is she, tell me more?" Sirius said with a suggestive tone.

"Sirius, get your mind out the gutter." Remus said sternly but still in a friendly way.

"Anyway, those embarrassing stories please." You requested and Sirius's face lit up. Remus shook his head lightly, kissed you on the forehead as he stood up and walked over to the record player in the corner of the room. As Sirius began telling you a story of Remus's prank going wrong in fifth year and ending up with him burning off a part of his eyebrow. Remus flicked through the records and put on one you loved, it was a T.Rex vinyl. "You can actually still see the burn mark here." Remus said as he sat down next to you and you looked closely at his eye brow which had thinner hair in one part, you slowly examined it running your finger over it, sharing a small moment of intimacy. You moved your finger away and chanted "Tell me more, tell me more." Both the guys laughed in response. The tea soon changed to fire whiskey and the stories got juicer. It felt so comfortable sitting relaxing with the two of them. You and Sirius got increasingly drunk while Remus kept his composure however he relaxed more and more. Sirius served you some more whiskey but Remus put his hand on top of the glass signifying he doesn't want anymore and Sirius nodded in response. "Remus you bring me here and you don't even want to join in on the fun?" You teased.

"Don't be offended Y/N. He doesn't drink." Sirius remarked.

"Hm and New years was what?" You poked Remus's side teasingly.

"Correction he doesn't drink unless he's nervous and even then he won't get drunk." Sirius replied and Remus nodded while filling his glass up with some water.

"Well now you're wrong..." you began but Remus shook his head. "He's not. I wasn't drunk. Tipsy and reckless at most. But the last time I was really drunk as James and Lilly's funeral."

"So you kissed me sober?"

"Well under the influence of a little fire whiskey and a lot of testosterone."

"You drank as much as me!" You accused him confused as to how he could've remained sober.

"He's a wolf." Sirius said and howled jokingly. At that moment Remus jokingly made a wild sound before pouncing on you to tease you and pretending to bite you before pecking your cheek.

"Oh Merlin I'm so lonely." Sirius sighed dramatically. And you and Remus rolled your eyes. "Y/N do you have any cute friends?" Sirius began.

"Stop it old man." Remus remarked beginning another round of teasing between the two men.

You were laying down on the sofa with your legs draped over Remus's as your back rested on the arm of the sofa, his hand was lightly stroking your leg in a loving manner and the cure played in the background. It was a song you particularly liked and due to the confidence caused from the uncountable glasses of fire whiskey you began to quietly sing along as Remus and Sirius debated something stupid. "I don't care if Monday's blue Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too Thursday, I don't care about you." You sang quietly to yourself under your breath

"It's Friday, I'm in love" Remus joined in quietly almost a whisper, he glanced at you and you both shared a smile as he gently squeezed your leg where his hand was resting.

"Oh you guys are gonna make me throw up, I'm so lonely." Sirius sighed dramatically, making you and Remus blush this time but by this point in the night all sense of embarrassment had left your body and there was enough public displays of affection, then there was a knock on the door downstairs. "Ooo pizza." Sirius said excitedly and jumped up.

"Do you need help carrying it up?" Remus asked.

"No just don't do anything on my sofa while I'm downstairs." Sirius said with a wink.

"I can't promise anything." Remus whispered to you as soon as Sirius left the room. The alcohol was pulsing through your bodies, yours more than his as he hadn't had a sip of alcohol in about a hour, but the ease of the evening made you feel ever so infatuated by Remus. He moved closer to kiss you slowly. "I really care about you." He whispered.

"I care about you too." You whispered back.

"Thank you for coming here with me."

"Thank you for finally letting me in." You whispered back and he pecked your lips once more before going back to sit in the same position.

"I don't know what I was scared of, this is one of the best evenings I've had in a very long time."

"Me too, Sirius is lovely, and funny. I understand why you're friends." You said.

"He's great, I'm lucky to have him."

"And he's lucky to have you."

"You know when I first met Sirius I thought-" Remus began before you heard Sirius arguing with someone. "Hold on-" he said.

"Everything okay."

"Shh." He said and you both went silent. It was two male voices one was Sirius the other was familiar, a low tone and slow speech. You began to hear a quick walk up the stairs followed by Sirius. Remus quickly moved your legs off of him and moved to the other sofa as at the very moment Snape stormed through the door. "What do we have here?" Miss L/N outside school property, drinking. With a Hogwarts professor?"

"Snivellus, why have you stormed into my bloody house?" Sirius walked through the door annoyed.

"Well apparently you're busy drinking with a student."

"Not my student, I'm not a teacher." Sirius said sarcastically, Remus looked angry and frozen you didn't know what to do you just kept looking at Remus for support avoiding eye contact with Snape.

"Lupin, a man with your condition sleeping with students is not very wise." Remus didn't say anything he stood up to say something but at that very moment Sirius spoke.

"Why have you stormed into my house on a Friday evening? To make up some illusions to help your life be a little less miserable?" Sirius walked closer to Snape, it looked like Remus and Sirius were both ready to punch Snape. You had a lump in your throat, you were half expecting to wake up from this nightmare at any moment.

"Dumbledore called an emergency meeting, and if you haven't forgotten this is the headquarters for the order."

"Doesn't justify you walking through my house?"

"I had to check what you were hiding up here. I look forward to hearing how your furry friend will talk his way out of this one." Snape said with a vile tone.

"There's nothing to talk out of, it's Friday evening and I'm having a drink with my friends, shoot me." Sirius snapped, thank god Sirius was here.

"You're awfully quiet." Snape said turning around to face Lupin.

"There's nothing to say, I'm here for the meeting like you are."

"With a Hogwarts student smelling like alcohol?" Snape said accusingly.

"I can't help if she's friends with Sirius or not." Lupin said sitting down and talking another sip of his drink which was luckily water as he acted as if nothing is wrong. You looked down at the floor. Another knock on the door was heard. "Pizza! Snape you're welcome to leave." Sirius said before running downstairs. "Miss L/N I was wondering how your grades went up so quickly-"

"Oh fuck off." Remus slammed his glass on the table, stood up and in that moment Snape was hit with a stunner. He pulled his wand out and Remus disarmed him in a second. At this moment Dumbledore walked into the room, Remus was disarmed and had a look of horror on his face as he knew he had fucked up.

"Gentlemen, please stand up and explain yourselves."

"Well only one isn't standing." Sirius chipped in standing behind Dumbledore looking at Snape on the floor.

"Thank you Mr Black, I am aware." Dumbledore replied.

"I just wanted to say as far as duels go there's an obvious winner." Sirius continued. Remus's eyes were glued to the floor like a school boy who's been told off. "Remus, when you stand like that you remind me of when you were miss L/N age." Dumbledore mentioned shooting you a glance. "Now would you like to explain yourselves as to the disturbance?"

"Professor, I believe I have caught Professor Lupin doing inappropriate activities with a Hogwarts student."

"You believe?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Well yes, they were both alone here smelling of alcohol."

"Excuse me I was here too." Sirius interrupted.

"Therefore they weren't alone." Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"But Miss L/N is a Hogwarts student outside campus without permission." Snape argued.

"I see she is escorted here with Professor Lupin." Dumbledore said calmly sitting down and pouring himself a drink using wandless magic.

"But they've been drinking." Snape continued.

"Well everyone here is legally an adult and it's Friday night, what else would you expect? Besides I see a glass of water right here." Dumbledore pointed to Remus's glass.

"I'm sorry Professor Dumbledore, but I don't understand how you can be so relaxed about this. We're meant to have a meeting and we find a student drinking with her professor outside Hogwarts grounds how are you allowing this?" Snape kept protesting.

"I do agree that Miss L/N shouldn't have left Hogwarts grounds during term time however she's an adult and thankfully she did have a guardian with her. Unfortunately, I'm sorry Miss L/N Professor Snape does have a point, I'm going to have to give you detention in Professor Lupin's office on Monday for leaving Hogwarts with no notice."

"And you're not punishing the teacher who allowed the student to leave?" Snape asked.

"Well I am making him run the detention aren't I?" Dumbledore asked.

"I can't believe you are so relaxed about this they are obviously involved with each other in some way."

"Whatever may happen outside Hogwarts grounds between adults does not concern me, I have no reason to believe anything inappropriate is happening in the hallways or corridors of Hogwarts."

A knock again on the door. "I hope it's pizza this time." Sirius said in a tired tone as he walked away.

"I'll escort Y/N back to Hogwarts I'm sorry professor." Remus said standing up.

"Perfect problem solved don't you think Professor Snape?" Dumbledore said with a smile. Snape did not respond. "Now let's head downstairs for that pizza." Words you never thought you would hear Dumbledore say. While waking downstairs you saw Sirius thanking the mildly concerned pizza man for it being him this time, it made you finally relax for the first time all evening. Remus walked in front of you without a word, when he reached the bottom of the stairs he simply announced. "I will be back shortly Headmaster." Before grabbing your arm and taking you back to Hogwarts. He walked you to your dorm room, there he spoke his first words to you. "I need to go. I'm sorry." And just like that he turned around and left.

You knocked on Remus's office door the next morning. You were greeted by a tired face and a slouched body, he looked alike the night after a full moon but you knew the next one was still quite a while away.

"Can we talk?" You asked and he nodded stepping aside to let you in.

"Tea?" His words were weak.

"No thank you." You said, not sitting down. "Are you going to loose your job?" You asked blatantly trying to keep a firm and controlled tone.

"No, I don't think so." He said over his shoulder while closing the door and making sure to lock it.

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"I believe he's known for quite a while." Remus ran his hand through his hair.

"But he doesn't care?"

"He made it seem like he doesn't see an issue with it as long as it doesn't affect my teaching or your learning." Remus explained.

"So business as usual? We're okay?"

"No... I'm afraid not Y/N." He said finally sitting down in his chair.

"Why? Everything is okay. Worst case scenario happened and it's all okay." You reasoned standing on the opposite side of the desk.

"Y/N we have flown too close to the sun. I am a fool for taking you there yesterday I put us in danger."

"Remus don't be-"

"I'm not being anything but honest."

"Remus the only issue here is your own fears, and it seems as though the reality is not as bad as you were afraid. Snape knows, Dumbledore knows. And you're still here, I'm still here. You didn't get fired. No one cares, why can't you let yourself be happy this one time?"

"Because when I feel happy, I let me guard down and every time, every single time something bad happens. I didn't want you to go see Sirius because I knew when it happens something bad will follow but I couldn't resist. And just like that not only Snape but Dumbledore and the whole order showed up."

"And we're okay why can't you see that? Neither of us are in trouble don't run away from a good thing when you have the chance to enjoy it."

Remus shut his eyes and rubbed his temple with his hand. No words came.

"I can't keep going through this back and forth, you need to stop hating yourself so much you're being an asshole." You snapped.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Do you know what hurts me? One day sitting in your office holding your hand and feeling happy, then the next you ignoring me in the corridors, than suddenly listening to vinyls on your best friends sofa to once again you telling me you want to start ignoring me again."

"It hurts me too."

"You have the power to stop it Remus. Just accept that we both like each other and allow it."

"I like you very much you know that." He pleaded.

"You have a pretty awful way of showing it." You confessed allowing your anger to show.

"I'm an old man."

"Ancient." You rolled your eyes. "I don't care."

"Your reputation will be tarnished."

"Tarnish it." You didn't break eye contact.

"I want you to be able to enjoy your youth, live it to the fullest."

"And a high school romance with my teacher isn't living to the fullest? Do you know how many other girls would die to touch you the way I do." His cheeks flushed red.

"The novelty will wear off girl, you'll get bored of me."

"Then let me get bored." You said leaning on his desk in front of him as he stayed sat on his chair. You were looking down at him and he was looking up at you, his legs spread wide under the desk.

"Darling are you forgetting what I am?"

"A hot professor with low self esteem?"

He laughed rolling his eyes and nodding. "A wolf." He made a howling side and grabbed your hips pulling you closer to him so now you were sitting on his legs starring intently into each other's eyes.

"You know very well that I'm not scared of wolves."

"My body is covering in scars." He broke eye contact.

"I know. And I find them all very attractive." You kissed the one on his neck that was peeking over his shirt collar.

"You know there's stigma that comes with dating a werewolf, people don't like people like me."

"Perfect filter for bigots, if they don't respect you, I don't want them in my life. And now Mr are you finished with the self loathing?"

"I've got a little left in me." He said playfully and you crashed your lips into his. "I'm finished we can move on to the part where I show you all the scars I hate."

"Perfect." You began to unbutton his shirt kissing his chest.

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NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

A/N: sorry for the angst I had to do it.

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perpl3x · 6 months ago

Text

Late Nights - Logan Howlett / Wolverine

Summary: Logan has phoned you on numerous occasions for a late night hook up. Tonight is no different. Pairing: fwb!reader (afab) x Logan, sub!reader x dom!Logan Words: 5,889 Tags: explicit filth 18+, praising, dirty talk, sex, begging, mentions of alcohol Notes: sorry for the long word count, I got a bit carried away. whoops.

The apartment door pulled open, and a rugged Logan stood before you. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and a shadow of stubble covered his chin, nestled between two sideburns. He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and some well-worn bootcut jeans that had clearly seen better days, frayed at the hems and faded at the knees. His eyes, a piercing shade of navy, seemed to look right through you, carrying both warmth and a hint of mystery.

He glanced down at you, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, revealing a dimple that softened his rugged features. His eyes glinted with a mixture of mischief and warmth, a playful sparkle that seemed to invite you into his world. He gestured for you to step inside with a casual flick of his hand, the movement confident and familiar.

His voice, rough and gravelly like gravel underfoot, held a teasing edge as he drawled, “You gonna stand there all night, bub, or are you gonna come in and keep me company?” The words rolled off his tongue with a lazy charm, the kind that made you feel both welcome and intrigued.

As you stepped inside, you were immediately met by the amalgamation of smoke and worn leather, intertwined with his own natural musk. The air was thick with it, creating an intoxicating and familiar scent that enveloped you like a warm embrace. The aroma of his favorite brand of cigars mingled with the rich, earthy scent of old leather, emanating from the cracked, well-used sofa and the leather jacket draped casually over a chair.

The faint sound of music, now more distinct, filled the room as the vinyl quietly spun on the record player. The charming crackle of static added a nostalgic touch, the slight imperfections of the analog sound giving it a warm, authentic quality. As the melody emerged, you quickly recognized it as Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the shadows, revealing the rugged charm of the room. The atmosphere was unmistakably Logan's, a blend of nostalgia and understated sophistication. The walls were a collage of eclectic posters, showcasing his love for gritty rock bands and iconic classic films. A large, flat-screen TV dominated one corner, perched on a sturdy, timeworn wooden cabinet that bore the scars of age and use. The cabinet was flanked by a powerful stereo system and a vintage DVD player, each piece meticulously maintained, evidence of Logan's appreciation for quality and craftsmanship. The TV's faint glow was the room's primary source of light, casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls. On a small table nearby, a few records lay scattered, their worn covers hinting at Logan's enduring love for the warm, rich tones of vinyl.

Logan sauntered over to the makeshift bar tucked into the corner of the kitchen, the battered wooden countertop bearing the marks and scars of countless years of use. He reached for a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, its label worn and peeling, and poured himself a generous measure. The amber liquid caught the dim light as it splashed into the glass, reflecting a warm glow. Without a word, he poured a glass for you, the gesture casual but welcoming.

As he did so, you discarded your shoes and coat before settling into the couch, feeling the weight of the day sinking into the cushions along with your body. "I've been thinking about you today," you call out nonchalantly.

Logan's eyes flicked to you over the rim of the glass, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. He took a swig from his glass, the whiskey burning a trail down his throat, leaving a familiar warmth in its wake. A satisfied sigh escaped him, the sound low and gravelly. With a nod, he ambled over to the couch, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, each step resonating with the weight of experience.

He set both drinks down on the coffee table with a practiced ease, the amber liquid glinting softly in the low light. Next to the glasses, an ashtray held a freshly stubbed cigar, its fragrant smoke lingering in the air, adding to the room’s hazy atmosphere.

He sat down beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he settled in. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the soft crackle of the music playing in the background and the faint hum of the city outside. Logan's hand found its way to your knee, his fingers gently tracing circles, the touch light and teasing, yet grounded in a comforting familiarity.

"Been thinking about me, huh?" he asked, his voice low and husky, the words a seductive rumble against your ear. His breath was warm, a puff of air that sent a shiver down your spine, mingling with the intoxicating scent of whiskey, leather, and cigar smoke that clung to him. The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement.

You tilt your head back, closing your eyes slightly as the warmth from his breath lingers on your skin, a comforting sensation that sends a gentle shiver through you. A small smile plays on your lips, the corners lifting in a mixture of contentment and affection. Your hand instinctively reaches to cover his on your knee, fingers brushing lightly against his. “Mmm, I might have,” you admit, your voice soft and breathy, almost a whisper. The words are wrapped in a hint of playful intrigue.

As you pull your hand away from his to take a sip of your drink, your gaze lingers on his, the room's dim light casting deep shadows across his rugged features. You lean in closer, the warmth of your breath brushing against his ear, sending a shiver through the space between you. Your arm falls back to its previous place, lightly grazing his side as you whisper, "You know, it's been a long day. I could use a release." Your hand trails up Logan's arm, your fingers dancing along the defined muscles, feeling the subtle strength beneath his shirt. As you pull away, your touch lingers just a moment longer, leaving him with a smoldering, sultry smile.

Logan let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending shivers down your spine. "I think I can help you with that, bubs," he said, his voice heavy with innuendo as his hand snaked its way to the nape of your neck and gently tugged you towards him, fervently kissing your lips.

His tongue sought entry, and as it met yours, it danced with a hunger that mirrored the desire in his eyes. The kiss deepened, his hand sliding down from your neck, to your back, pulling you closer, the heat between you both intensifying. Despite his hands being large and rugged, he somehow managed to touch you like fine china that he didn't want to break, even despite the lust and desperation.

He pulled away, his breathing heavy, the desire in his eyes unmistakable. "You know, I've been thinking about how I'm going to bend you over this couch, your pretty ass in the air, just begging for it," he said, his voice thick with lust. A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on your body. You nodded, biting your lip in response, the anticipation of his touch making your heart race.

"Would you like that, sweetcheeks?" He asked softly, his hot breath fanning against you neck as he gruffly whispered into your ear, still keeping a firm grip on you as his hands burried into the sides of your hips.

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on your body. You nodded, biting your lip in response, the anticipation of his touch making your heart race.

Logan's fingers dug gently into your sides, urging you to verbalize your desire. "Say it for me, bubs. Tell me you want that," he uttered, his voice a sultry rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, a stark contrast to the cool air in the room. He pulled away slightly to look at you, to drink you all in.

You hesitated for a moment, the words catching in your throat as you looked up into his intense gaze. His eyes, deep and piercing, seemed to hold you captive, the world around you fading into insignificance. "Yes," you finally breathed, your voice dripping with desire. "I need you Logan. I want you to fill me up until I can't even think straight - until I'm nothing but a moaning mess begging for you to let me cum."

Logan's eyes darkened with satisfaction as you gave in to your desires, a satisifed and carnal smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasted no time in acting on your words, pushing you back into the cushions of the couch laying you down on your back, his body towering over you as he propped himself on his forearms, the muscles straining as he leaned in. His lips eagerly worked on the skin of your neck, the stubble of his beard scratching your delicate skin in a way that sent shivers of both pleasure and discomfort down your spine. You let out an airy breath, your head falling back against the cushions as his mouth trailed lower, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

As Logan's lips traced a path down your neck, his words grumbled against your skin. "I'm going to worship every inch of your perfect little body," he growled, his voice thick with lust. The intensity of his touch made you squirm under him, the anticipation of what was to come building within you. You could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of him, as he loomed over you, his presence commanding and intoxicating.

Instinctively, your body reacted to his touch as you arched your back towards him urging to close the gap between you - needing every inch of your being to physically be connected. His fingers began to work on the buttons of your blouse, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring each moment. As the garment fell open, revealing the lacy bra that encased your breasts, he leaned in to nuzzle your cleavage, the scratch of his beard a sensation that mixed both pleasure and discomfort.

Logan continued to lavish attention on you, his large hands cupping your breasts through the lace, his lips tenderly sucking and nipping at the skin of your exposed chest, hot breath causing goosebumps to flare over your skin. "I can't wait to hear you moan for me, bubs," he uttered with the usual gravel in his voice, lust laced in his words. Your eyes fluttered shut, the sensations overwhelming as he continued to worship your body.

As he helped you slip out of the blouse, now unbuttoned and sliding effortlessly from your shoulders, his gaze shifted downward, drinking in the sight of you. His attention lingered on your bare legs that just peaked out of your skirt, his admiration evident in the way his eyes darkened with appreciation. His large hands moved to your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, a gentle squeeze that sent a thrill coursing through you. The warmth of his touch spread like wildfire, igniting every nerve, as he explored the contours of your skin with an almost reverent focus. His grip was firm yet tender.

"You're so fucking beautiful, bubs," Logan murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned in to nip at your inner thigh, his beard grazing against your skin. The mixture of pleasure and discomfort from the stubble had you gasping, your hands gripping the fabric of the couch as you arched into his touch. His capable hands traced higher, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt, the fabric tight against your curves. He pulled it down slowly, his eyes never leaving your body as it was revealed.

As Logan pulled down your skirt with ease, revealing your matching lacy thong, his gaze lingered on the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire. The lace of the thong hugged your curves, the material sheer enough to offer glimpses of your arousal, the dampness evident against the fabric.

The sight of you, laid out before him, your body flushed and eager, was a sight that turned Logan on immensely. The flush of your cheeks, the way you bit your lip as you squirmed under his touch, the way your breath hitched with each touch, were all sights and sounds that fueled his lust. It was clear that you wanted him just as much.

You began to toy with the hem of Logan's dark t-shirt that hugged his physique, your fingers tracing the fabric as a subtle signal for him to remove it. Logan took the hint quickly, reaching up and sliding it over his head. His muscles flexed in the dim lighting, the shadows accentuating the chiseled contours of his abs and the broad expanse of his chest. The light highlighted the dark body hair that spanned his torso, a rugged trail enticingly leading down to the waistband of his jeans.

Veins stood out on his forearms, their prominence accentuated by the strain as he wrestled with the shirt. His pelvis, with a few veins visible just peeking above the waistband of his jeans, bulged with the effort, adding to the raw, masculine allure of his figure.

You couldn't help but stare, admiration and lust mingling in your gaze. Logan's body was a sight to behold; every muscle was defined and sculpted, each curve and ridge a result of relentless training and perseverance. "Fuck..." is all you could mutter, drinking in his rugged appearance that only fuelled your carnal desire for him.

With a cocky grin, Logan chuckled softly, clearly reveling in his own chiseled, god-like presence. "Do you like what you see, bub? Don't worry darlin', it's all yours." The confidence in his expression was palpable, a mix of pride and self-assuredness that only added to his already commanding aura. His amusement was not just in his smile, but in the way his eyes sparkled with a sense of satisfaction, as if he were fully aware of the effect his imposing physique had on you.

Logan's large hands continued to roam, his fingertips grazing the edge of your thong. He trailed his fingers lower, the pads of his digits pressing against the fabric that covered your clit. His touch was gentle, yet firm, as he began to rub in slow, deliberate circles, feeling the heat emanating from you through the thin material.

"Look at you, bub. You're dripping for me, aren't you? Can't wait for me to fill you up, can you? Aren't you such a good girl for me, hmm? Your pretty pussy all ready for me. That's what you want, isn't it darlin'?"

Logan didn't give you any time to respond as he dove down to you again, he captured your lips in another kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as his fingers continued to tease you. The sensation of his fingers against your clit, combined with the warmth of his kiss, had you moaning into his mouth. Logan loved the sound, his own arousal growing with each moan that escaped you.

His fingers continued to expertly rub against your clit, teasing the sensitive nub as he leaned in. Fervently, he pulled away nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. With a wicked grin that you couldn't see, he pressed his lips to your neck, sucking gently, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses that sent shivers down your spine. Your lips parted in a silent plea for him to return, your body craving the warmth, the moisture, the intimacy.

"You're so desperate for this cock, aren't you? Beg for it, bub." His head still buried into your neck, you couldn't see the carnal desire that you knew was laced in his expression but you could hear it in his gravelly uttering. "I bet you'd do anything for it, wouldn't you? Tell me how much you need it, and I might just give it to you."

For Logan, there was no greater pleasure than hearing you admit your need for his cock, the raw, visceral desire in your voice. The thought of his thick, member filling you, stretching you wide, your wet, tight walls gripping him with every thrust, sent a jolt of satisfaction through him. He imagined your face flushed and contorted with pleasure, your moans and cries growing more frantic as he pounded into you, your body arching to meet his every thrust, your voice stuttering out his name in a primal cry of ecstasy.

Logan's own arousal was a tangible thing, a throbbing, insistent presence straining against the confines of his jeans. The outline was stark and unmistakable.

Your breath hitched in your throat as Logan's fingers continued to tease your clit, the sensation overwhelming. "Please, Logan, I need your cock. I need you to fill me up, to make me yours. I'll do anything, just please, please fuck me."

The plea for Logan's cock spilled from your lips, the words tumbling out in a desperate, ragged rush. Your voice shook with a raw, unabashed honesty, the vulnerability and need in your tone leaving no doubt as to the depth of your desire for him. You were painfully aware of how pathetic your begging might sound, but in that moment, you were utterly helpless before him. Logan was your undoing, the one who could strip you of all sense of control, reducing you to a quivering, desperate wreck in his presence.

"Is that all you've got, bub? I want to hear you really beg, show me how much you want it. Tell me what you'd do to have this cock inside you." His voice was a low, gravelly rumble, as he continued to torment you with his fingers, the cruel tease driving you mad with lust. He brought his teeth to the tender skin of your neck and gentle nibbled at it.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and desire. Logan's demand for more left you squirming beneath his touch, your body aching for release. You closed your eyes, biting your lip as you tried to gather your courage. The thought of submitting to him, of groveling, made your core clench with a heady mix of lust and shame.

"I'll do anything, please, I'll worship your cock. I'll bend over and take it deep and hard, let you use me however you want. Just let me have you, Logan, please, I need you."

The words were a raw, unfiltered expression of your desire, a testament to the depths of your need for him. You knew you sounded degrading, but in that moment, it was the only way to express the urgency and intensity of your desire. You were willing to do whatever it took to have him, to finally feel the blissful fullness of his cock inside you.

Logan withdrew his hand, a smug grin on his face as he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbow. He gazed at your flushed, disheveled form, taking a moment to savor the sight of your desperation and need for him. Your eyes, heavy-lidded and sultry, bore into him with a yearning that was both intoxicating and exhilarating.

"You'll let me use you, huh? Just how I want?" His voice was thick with lust as he considered your offer, the image of your eager, submissive body a temptation he found difficult to resist. "Well, bub, if you're offering yourself up like that, I think it's only fair that I take what you're offering."

He pushed himself up from the sofa, his skin was flushed, heat rising in his cheeks as the intensity of the situation and his own desire became apparent. His sinewy muscles seemed to ripple beneath his skin, the light catching on the slight sheen of sweat that had begun to form. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead.

As Logan fumbled with the buckle of his belt, the action slow and deliberate, his broad chest heaved with each breath. The dark, piercing eyes that met yours were fierce and intent, seemingly trying to undress you with their heated gaze. The air between you grew thick with tension, charged with the electricity of desire as he practically eye-fucked you, leaving you squirming in your lingerie on the couch.

Once the buckle was undone, Logan took hold of the belt, beginning to carefully unthread it from the loops of his jeans. With each smooth, deliberate motion, the tension in the room grew. He discarded the belt to the floor, the metal hitting the hardwood with a soft clink.

Taking a momentary break from his task, Logan reached for the glass of whiskey that still sat untouched on the coffee table. He downed the amber liquid in one smooth gulp, his throat working as he swallowed. A satisfied hum escaped him as he licked his lips, the sensation of the whiskey warming his insides. With a heavy hand, he placed the glass back on the table, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Logan's hands moved to the button of his jeans, slowly sliding it through the hole and popping it open. He began to lower his pants, the fabric resisting his movements, bunching around his thighs. As he freed himself from the confines of his jeans, his hand found its way to the bulge in his boxers. His fingers brushed against the hot, rigid length of his cock, rubbing through the fabric in a slow, teasing motion. The sight of him pleasuring himself, even through the barrier of his underwear, was enough to make you squirm on the couch, the need for him growing more insistent with each passing second.

Logan's voice, deep and gravelly, filled the room as he spoke, the teasing lilt in his tone sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to show you what you've been thinking about all day, bubs?"

He continued to toy with his cock, the way his fingers moved over the fabric a tantalizing dance that left you aching for more. You could almost feel the heat radiating from him, the thick, veiny length straining against the confines of his boxers, begging for release.

You nodded eagerly, your eyes locked onto his hand as it continued to stroke over his cock. The pulsing, throbbing need between your legs grew more and more unbearable, an insatiable hunger that demanded to be sated. You fought the urge to start pleasuring yourself, knowing full well that Logan enjoyed making you wait, enjoy the anticipation, before finally giving in to your desires.

Logan's smirk deepened, a sly glint in his eyes, his voice a low, husky rumble. "Use your words, darlin'. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours. Put those lips of yours to work."

Logan's teasing continued, his tone alluring as he urged you on. "Come on, you've been such a good girl already. Say 'please'." Instead of simply stroking, he now gripped his erection, the outline of his cock now painfully obvious through the thin fabric of his boxers. The sight of it, combined with Logan's relentless teasing, was enough to push you to the brink of insanity.

Finally, you found your voice, your words shaky and desperate. "Please, Logan, show me what I've been thinking about all day. Please, please, show me your cock."

Logan's lips curved into a satisfied grin, his teeth flashing as he bestowed praise upon you. "Good girl, bubs. I knew you had it in you." He took his time, moving deliberately and teasingly as he slid his boxers down his legs. The fabric caught on his thick, erect member, the sight of it being released, springing free and smacking against his abdomen, was pure torture. Once it was fully free, his cock bobbed, standing proud and upright, the head glistening with precum.

He didn't linger any longer, sliding both his jeans and boxers off of his legs, which had been pooling around his knees. He stood before you, fully and completely naked. His body was a sight to behold. The veins that bulged at his pelvis continued to run down his rigid length.

His large, calloused hands wrapped around his shaft, the grip firm and confident. Logan began to stroke himself, the slow, deliberate motions drawing out the pleasure. As he moved, he made his way back towards the couch, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time. Logan's approach was both eager and gentle, his large hand wrapping around your wrist with a tenderness that belied the raw power and strength he possessed. With surprising ease, he dragged you gently, positioning you so that you leaned over the arm of the couch. Your body followed his lead, naturally conforming to the position he wanted, your ass now raised in the air, presented to him, ready for his taking.

A satisfied hum rumbled in Logan's chest as he took in the view, his hands moving to explore the curves of your ass. His fingers traced the lines of your cheeks, the pads of his digits pressing into the soft flesh, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Logan's hands continued to roam over your ass, his voice a low growl in your ear as he uttered dirty, filthy words. "You're a good girl, coming over here tonight, begging for my cock. You're just aching for me to take you, aren't you, bub? To fill you up, to claim every inch of you as mine."

Logan's hands squeezed your ass cheeks, his fingers digging into the flesh as he kneaded and massaged you. His touch was firm, possessive, as if he were claiming you through the physical connection. With a slow, deliberate motion, he used his thumbs to slide your underwear to the side, revealing your wetness to him. Two fingers slipped inside, the warmth enveloping them as they slid in with ease. A contented murmur escaped him, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

The sensation of Logan's fingers inside of you, the way they delved deep, was almost too much. You couldn't help the breathy moans and lustful exhales that escaped your lips, your face pressed into the leather seat of the sofa as he pleasured you from behind. Your body arched, your hips rolling back to meet his touch, encouraging him to go deeper, to claim more of you. The way he talked to you, the filthy words that rolled off his tongue, only served to fuel the fire of your desire, making you squirm and writhe against his touch.

Logan's grip on your hip tightened, using it as leverage to push you down into the cushions. As he withdrew his fingers, they were slick with your arousal, the evidence of your need for him. He used that same hand to grip his cock. He spat onto his hand, the warm saliva mixing with your arousal, creating a makeshift lubricant. Logan rubbed the wetness onto his cock, coating it in the mixture before slowly edging the head of his cock against your entrance, the wet tip teasing you, making you whimper in anticipation.

Logan's voice was a low growl, the words dripping with lust and dominance. "Is this what you wanted darlin'? My fat cock fucking into you, huh? Is this what you've been thinking about all day? Have you missed this bubs?"

The question hung in the air, a challenge, a confirmation of what you'd been fantasizing about. Your body trembled, your breath hitching in your throat as you finally found your voice, your words thick and needy.

"Yes, please, Logan. Yes, I've missed this. I need you. I need this. Fuck - I need your cock so bad."

Logan's response was immediate, his hips bucking forward ever so slightly. The head of his cock dipped into your entrance, the slick tip teasing you, making you moan into the couch. Logan's praise was laced with satisfaction, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. "That's a good girl. You're so eager for me, aren't you, bub? You're just begging to be filled by me, to have every inch of you claimed by my cock. I knew you'd be a good girl, always wanting me, always craving my dick."

Your promise was fulfilled as he bucked his hips forward once more, this time not stopping at the entrance. His cock filled you completely, the sensation of him stretching you, making you gasp and moan into the cushion. Your body gripped the material of the couch, your fingers digging into the fabric as you tried to hold onto something, anything, as Logan claimed you. Your core clenched around him, the wet, slick walls of your pussy adjusting to the size of his cock.

As if sensing your need, Logan's primal instincts took over, his rhythm quickening as he began to fuck into you deeply and with unrelenting force. The head of his cock brushed against your sensitive spot with each thrust, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. Your body arched to meet his, your hips rolling in sync with his, encouraging him to go deeper, to claim more of you. Your moans grew louder, your body quivering with each thrust, the pleasure building within you, threatening to consume you whole.

Logan's grunts filled the room, the sounds of his satisfaction mingling with your own moans. He used both hands to grip your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh as he sought the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot, to make you writhe and squirm beneath him. "You're such a good girl, bub. Look at you, taking my cock so well."

Your body tensed, your core clenching as Logan's cock continued to thrust into you, the subtle pressure overwhelmingly nice. Your breathing hitched, your voice strained as you managed to utter, "Fuck - L- Logan-"

His voice was a husky growl, his words a promise of what was to come. "Mm, that's it bubs, my name sounds so pretty coming from your lips." His hands moved to your back, the firm grip pushing you down into the couch as he continued to take control, to claim you fully.

Logan's thrusts grew more forceful, each one driving deep into your core, his girthy cock stretching and filling you completely. Your body surrendered to the sensation, your hips arching to meet each powerful stroke. The sound of your moans, breathy and pleading, echoed through the room, mingling with the wet slap of flesh against flesh, the rhythmic symphony of your shared passion.

Logan's face contorted with his own pleasure, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you fall further under his spell. His voice rumbled through the room, a deep growl of satisfaction, "You like that, bub? You like how I own you like this?"

The question sent another wave of pleasure coursing through your body, the heady mix of submission and dominance pushing you closer to the edge. The tension within you coiled tighter, the sweet torment of Logan's edge play threatening to tip you over the brink. You nodded, your body trembling, your nails digging into the couch as you fought to hold onto the last threads of coherence.

"That's my girl," Logan praised. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you tightly as he continued to thrust, the rhythm of his movements a relentless march towards your climax.

Leaning down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me when you're ready to cum, bub. I wanna hear those pretty little words leave your mouth." His teeth grazed your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

Logan's keen senses, honed by his mutation, allowed him to detect the most minute changes in your body, the subtle shift in the pitch of your moans, the heightened surge of oxytocin that coursed through your nervous system. He reveled in these signs, knowing that you were nearing the brink, the culmination of your pleasure. Yet, there was something else he enjoyed even more. He wanted to hear the words spill from your lips, to witness the undoing of your composure, to have you become a blubbering, breathless mess as you confessed your impending climax.

His grip on your hips tightened, and he increased the tempo of his thrusts. The walls of your sex clenched around him, and you could feel the pressure building, the familiar coil of tension that promised release. As your body tensed, the tell-tale signs becoming more pronounced, Logan's eyes gleamed with anticipation. The sight of you, flushed and writhing beneath him, was a sight he could never grow tired of.

Your whispered confession, "I'm… I'm close, Logan. I'm gonna cum…" sent a jolt of pure satisfaction through him. It was like a trigger, igniting the fuse that would lead to the explosion of your pleasure. "That's it, bub," Logan encouraged as he continued to thrust into you, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. "You're doing so good. Let it take you. Just a little more, bubs. You're so close. I can feel it."

His hand slid down your body, slipping between your legs to find your swollen clit. With a gentle yet firm touch, he began to rub in circles, adding another layer of stimulation to your already heightened senses.

The combination of his words, his touch, and the sensations of his cock buried deep within you pushed you over the precipice. Your body arched and squirmed beneath him, a cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure escaping your lips. The sound of your ecstasy was accompanied by the soft crinkling of the leather sofa beneath you. Logan continued to stroke your clit, milking every last drop of pleasure from your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as he rode out your climax with you. "Good girl, bub," he praised, his voice laced with satisfaction.

Logan felt his own release drawing near, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming more urgent, his breath hitching in his chest. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fought to maintain control, to prolong the agonizingly sweet edge he found himself teetering on.

As Logan felt the telltale signs of his own impending release, he pulled out of you, his cock glistening with your juices. With a growl, he aimed himself at your back, releasing his hot seed in thick ropes onto your skin.

The warmth of his cum cascaded down your spine, the sensation both arousing and exhilarating. Logan's gaze followed the path of his release, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he watched the evidence of his pleasure. "I've always loved the way you look when you're spent, bub."

Logan's chest heaved as he caught his breath, the afterglow of their passion washing over you both. "I'll go and get a towel for you, bubs," he stated softly. He gave your ass a gentle pat before heading towards the bathroom, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And I'll run you a nice hot bath. You're going to need it after all that."

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wasawattpadkid · 2 years ago

Text

Housewife

Part - 3

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, masturbation

Part 1

Billy normally did this sort of thing with Stu. He had a feeling his friend would be upset that he went alone. That's something he'd have to deal with later. Your room was on the second floor with no obvious way up to the window. If you were the only one home he'd find a way in. With current company that wasn't exactly possible. Binoculars, cellphone, and his trusty voice changer, were all he had to work with. Doing this sort of thing without a knife was unusual.

He positioned himself where he could see your bed and the posters adorning the walls. Rear window, The Birds, Vertigo, and Psycho. You were an Alfred Hitchcock fan. "And Stu said you didn't have good taste in movies." He scoffed. Billy shook his head the binoculars close to his eyes. He watched as you walked in the room towel wrapped around your frame. One foot closed the bedroom door behind you. You looked to the window as you slowly dropped your towel. Did you know he was out here?

That was impossible. It was pitch black outside with the exception of the moon. Billy watched as you pulled the dress from the bag. A smile lit up your face which in turn brought one to his lips. A sense of pride filled Billy's chest knowing he picked it out. Once again your eyes found the window looking out as if someone was right on the other side. Slowly you pulled the fluffy nightgown over your head, the frill dropping right under your ass. Billy's hand slipped down his abdomen resting over his zipper.

You grabbed the matching panties from the bag dragging them up your legs letting the elastic slap your skin. Moving away from the window you looked yourself up and down in the mirror. Billy and Stu knew what they were doing when they bought you the nightgown. You spun letting the dress drift around you. Air seemed to catch in your throat as you got happy. A smile so painful your cheeks hurt, was one of the many indications you were elated with the gift.

The only thing you could think that would make it better was some music. Walking to your records you grabbed the worn out 45 listed under M for Monroe. Lifting the wooden cabinet cover you sat the vinyl down placing the needle in the first groove. Within a second "I wanna be loved by you" filled the room. You mouthed the lyrics as you danced around. That giddy feeling only getting stronger. Your hands slid up and down your body as if you were the best stripper on a Saturday night. It was classy though and Billy took note. The dancing wasn't the best, if you could call it dancing. It was like you were in love with yourself and the world around you. Playing around with the air that filled the room.

Billy started softly rubbing the bulge that began to strain again his dark jeans. His eyes never leaving you as you danced for an audience of one. Your towel dried hair swug around sure to fling left over water. You were his own personal burlesque dancer. Billy's hips grinded up into his palm. The knuckles wrapped around the binoculars began to turn white with his grip. He had no clue what song could make you ooze with such lust but he needed to use it to his advantage. You were walking innocence. Something he lacked throughout his life. You weren't stupid, you were incredibly brilliant. Every move you made it was intentional. You were putting a show just for him.

His hips quickened as the pressure grew. Little whispers of encouragement fell on deaf ears. Billy needed your glossy lips around him. He needed the hem of that frilly little dress to fall over his lap as you bounced happily. He needed... You. "Fuck!" He cursed through gritted teeth. He needed new underwear. "Fuck." He dropped the binoculars by his side to assess the damage you caused. The mess you made. A small damp spot began to make an appearance through the denim next to zipper of his jeans. Ignoring the uncomfortable mess he picked the binoculars back up noticing you were now buttoning up your pajama shirt. "God damnit!"

Now that your little burst of energy was over you were ready to crawl in bed. You switched the record over to something more peaceful, one that would take longer to end. Billy put the binoculars down to focus on the phone number staining his hand. His finger tapped the buttons double checking the numbers before hitting call. He could hear the ear piercing ring all the way outside. Before you could answer he pulled the voice changer from his pocket.

Quickly you leaned over grabbing the phone off the receiver. Placing it right back down with a click. It was too late for anyone to be calling. Billy took a deep breath redialing the number. Once again the phone screamed for your help. "Hello?" You asked politely to Billy's surprise seeing as you were obviously upset at the intrusion. You hoped it was Billy. "Hello.." He spoke not really sure where to go with this one. Well at least you know who it's not. You picked up the phone sitting the receiver on the bed next to you. You got comfortable with the phone resting against to your face. "Hi what's up?" You spoke. No asking 'who is this?' or 'why are you calling?" Maybe you were a little dumb.

"Um-" Billy cleared his throat thinking of a quick response. "The sky." He squeezed his eyes closed in shame. His eyes opened to find you with a smile. A small laugh could be heard over the phone. "Okay smartass what's down?" This was stupid. You were supposed to angry at the caller, suspicious even. Who calls a girl all alone at this hour? "The ground." You laughed clapping your hands. "That's right! Not too bad mystery man. But what do you need? Why'd you call?" Finally.

"What if I just wanted to talk?" You scooted yourself underneath the covers thinking about the caller. "Okay but I'm not doing no weird shit. You can call one those sex hotlines for that." Billy smiled at your assertion. "Fair enough. Who might I be speaking to?" It was a test. You barley gave him a name when you first met he doubted you'd give it to a psychopath on the phone. "I would say we could exchange names but what's the fun in that? I don't know you, you don't know me. What's your favorite song?"

The question was out of left field so much so he wasn't ready for it. "What's yours?" He asked to your disappointment. Billy saw the sad look on your face. "Am I talking to Socrates right now? I asked first." Billy begrudgingly gave out his answer. "1979 by the Smashing Pumpkins. Now what's yours?" You nodded your head at the answer. It seemed fitting. "Oh gosh." You sighed. "I honestly don't have a favorite. And if I did it would change next week. Have you heard Landslide by Fleetwood Mac? It's really popular you probably have." You took a deep breath in. Sighing out the air in one go. "Anyways I really like that one. It's kind of sad though if you think about it."

Billy sat listening to every word you said. "Your turn." He always had the most important question on hand. Billy wasn't really sure if he wanted to ask knowing what normally happened afterwards. "Do you like scary movies?" Billy put down his binoculars focusing on just your voice. "I'd say I do. I like a very specific genre of scary movies though." Billy sat up listening closer if that was possible. "What do you mean by that?" The voice on the phone became lower sending a slight chill down your spine. "Everyone likes scary movies to be bloody. The more guts and gore the better. You don't have to have that to make a scary movie. Vertigo is scary but there's practically no blood and Rear Window is one of the best movies made about a murder with no body ever being seen."

"Scary movies should get inside your head, make the viewer wonder if they are next. Make them wonder if they are just as screwed up as the villain." Out of everything you could've said he wasn't ready for that. "You are very smart girl." Billy didn't intend for it to come off as sexual. However you definitely took it that way. "Has anyone told you that you've got a very attractive voice?" Billy smiled holding back a laugh. "Is that so?" You nodded as if he could see you. "Yep. Anyways it's getting late mystery man. I'm going to get some sleep. Sleep well okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight mystery girl." Billy whispered into the phone. For the first time he was the one to hang up. To end the call without screams on the other end. It made him feel surprisingly good. The light in your room turned off letting him know you were actually going to bed. Billy quietly packed up his things and started the walk to his car. He wasn't sure if this little talk changed anything for you but it definitely changed things for him.

Part 4

Taglist: @katie-tibo @danodoll21

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catboyfelixer · 11 months ago

Text

The Shop Down The Street | Bang Chan

Pairing: Chan x GN!Reader Summary: You've walked down this street many times before, but somehow you never noticed this vintage store until you're literally forced to look at it. They've got some really cool clothes, a huge vinyl record collection, and a cute guy working at the counter. But when you stumble upon a section of the store you shouldn't be able to see, you realize that there's more to this world (and to yourself) than you once thought. Genre: Fluff, Humor, Supernatural Notes: i dont have notes but i will say chan looks really cute in that pic

It was a gust of wind that brought you here, but it felt more like a push. A force at your back propels you forward, and you come face to face with a peculiar shop you've never seen before. "Castlebrook Vintage" the sign out front reads, and through the glass you see a wooden interior filled with racks of clothes and lined with old books on the shelves. It's strange, you walk past this area once a week; surely you would've noticed a cute vintage store here, right?

There's something in your chest pulling at you to go inside, and when you open the door, the chimes echo an intimate song that welcomes you in.

As soon as you step in, you feel the change in temperature. The cold wind is replaced a cozy warmth that is accentuated by the warm yellow lights. You are immediately greeted by an array of interesting clothes, all arranged near the entrance. An old rock song you don't recognize is playing on the speakers, and it accompanies you while you look through the vintage jeans at the front. You're alone in the store, save for a boy beside the counter hanging jackets on a rack. He's quietly singing along to the song, until the drums kick in and he starts hitting the rack with coat hangers as if they were drumsticks. He's got a cute face, and unexpectedly large biceps that are very visible under the black band t-shirt he's wearing. He notices you looking in his direction and flashes a smile, and you pretend you weren't just looking at his arms.

"Need help finding anything?"

"Uh, no! Just browsing," you say, and continue rifling through clothes in an attempt to look busy.

"Alright, if you need anything let me know," he says, and the singing continues as he gets back to work.

To save yourself the embarrassment of being caught checking out a cute guy, you walk further in the store. Long tables stand in the middle of the room, stacked with boxes of vinyl records that are neatly sorted by genre and alphabetical order. Maybe one day you'll take the time to comb through the huge variety of music, but the oddities at the back of the store are what draws your interest.

There's a glass cabinet full of interesting old dinnerware, and walls covered in paintings of ships out at sea. Shelves are full of old technology, old boomboxes and record players. You even spot an Atari with a row of games beside it, but the price of it makes you recoil. You turn around to see other things, and are startled by the life size clown mannequin in the corner you somehow missed. Strangely enough, right when you see it, you feel that same pull that drew you to the store. Beside the mannequin, there's an open door. You can see a tiny portion of the room inside, but the many colors peak your interest.

You carefully walk past the clown and peer into the room. On one side, dark wooden shelves are lined with small glass bottles filled with vibrantly colored liquids. On the other, jars of herbs sit beside crystals and other rocks. The table in the middle is crowded with candles, crystal balls and other weird props that look straight out of a Halloween movie. Bookshelves cover the back wall, and you even see cauldrons and brooms in the corner.

This store must have a lot of interesting clientele.

You enter the room to get a better look, and are immediately hit with the worst headache of your life. Every second that passes feels like it gets stronger, until you're on the floor clutching your head.

You vaguely hear someone talking, but the pain is so strong you can't make out what's being said. And then an instant later, the headache is gone.

"Are you ok?"

You look up from the floor, and see the employee from earlier.

"I... I think so?"

He extends his arm towards you, and pulls you up off the ground.

"Sorry about that," he says, "I didn't know you were gonna walk in there. If you said something earlier, I would've turned that off."

Before you can ask what he meant, he steps into the room and gestures for you to come in, which you oblige.

"So, is there anything you need? Potions are here, ingredients are there, tomes are at the back. If there's anything specific you're looking for, I can get it for you."

He looks at you as if you understand what he's talking about at all.

"What is this place?"

This time, he looks at you as if you've just said something ridiculous.

"You know... the witch room. If you can see this room, you must be a witch, right?"

"Riiiiiiight. The witch room. For witches. Ok."

He pauses for a second.

"You're not a witch, are you."

"Wouldn't that be crazy if I was?" You laugh at the thought, but he looks completely serious.

"Then how did you see this room..." he says, more to himself than to you.

"I mean... the door was open."

"You must have some latent magic in you."

"Yeah, ok sure."

"I know it sounds hard to believe," he says, "but it's the reason you felt that migraine when you walked in here. It's a protection spell. Like an anti-robbery alarm but for witches."

"Or I just get migraines sometimes."

"That would be an incredible coincidence," he says. He walks towards the glass bottles on the shelves. "If we're gonna do this, I should probably do it right." He clears his throat before continuing.

"My name is Chan, and we are witches." He grabs a glass bottle in the shape of a raindrop, pops the cork, and takes a sip of the bright blue liquid inside.

Nothing happens.

"Wait for it..." he says, while nothing continues to happen. "Why is this taking so long-" His body starts to glow blue, and he floats a few inches off the ground. He waves his hand above his head to signal no wires holding him up.

Well damn... magic is real. Or you haven't figured out the trick yet, but magic is more fun to believe.

He floats closer to you and holds out the bottle.

"Wanna try?"

"Uh... I probably shouldn't drink random liquids from strangers."

"You know my name, so I can't be a stranger," he says, before returning the bottle to its place on the shelf, "but I get it. You're missing out though!"

"You said we're witches, right? Can I do magic too?"

"Yup. But I'm guessing you never got taught the basics." He thinks for a bit, and walks towards the back. You follow him to the bookshelves, and he searches through 2-inch thick tomes covered in dust. Finally, he pulls out a thin soft-cover book called 'Magicality: Ages 1-4'. It's bright yellow and the cover has two cartoon bears wearing witch hats.

"Every witch grew up on the Magicality books," he says, handing it to you. "These two bears are my Spongebob. They even made some VHS tapes with these guys and I watched those episodes religiously."

You flip through it, and there's plenty of pictures of the bears teaching the (presumed) infant reader how to do simple and safe spells like making glitter appear, interspersed with jokes and coloring pages.

"This is really cute. Thanks, Chan."

"Read through that, maybe do a word search or two, and you'll have the basics down in no time," he says, "and then come back and I'll teach you more." He winks at you and smiles. "Stuff like this."

He reaches for your hand and opens it, palm up. He traces his fingers on your palm in a circle, and specs of golden light follow his fingers. He slowly lifts his hand and red flower petals materialize one by one, blowing away in the light breeze created by the motion of his hand.

The only way you can describe it is beautiful. Any seed of doubt in the back of your mind disappears; this is real, beautiful magic.

Carefully, the movement slows and his hand goes back down to yours, ending the display.

"Aw, don't stop there..." you say, pouting. He laughs softly.

"I could keep going, or you could come back another time and I'll teach you how to do it yourself."

"So you can sell me another book?" you ask, sarcasm in your voice.

"No, I promise it's not to sell you another book," he says, and places a hand on his heart.

This is the second time he's said he wants to see you again.

"I was gonna sell you a crystal or something, though," he adds. You roll your eyes at that.

"What days do you work?" you ask. He taps his chin, thinking a bit before answering.

"Tell you what. Why don't you text me when you've read Magicality, and I'll let you know my next work day." He pulls out his phone, and opens the 'add contact' screen. "Or you can text me if you just feel like talking."

The cute guy you somehow managed to talk to is asking for your number. He's looking at you with a sparkle in his eye, and you don't know if it's magic or anticipation. Finally, you take his phone and add your information.

"So that's your name. I've been trying to figure out how to ask without ruining the flow of the conversation."

"Oh, sorry. I can't believe I forgot to tell you my name."

"It's all good!" he says, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Before I ring you up for your book, how about I show you one last trick?"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Normal witches are so used to magic that they don't care when something cool happens. But every time I show you something, you have a look of awe on your face. It's really cute."

You hope the blood rushing to your cheeks isn't visible.

"This is my favorite potion. You're gonna be so shocked at what it does."

He walks back to the glass bottles (which you now know are potions) and picks one up shaped like a star. A deep blue liquid swirls around inside as he lifts it.

Once again, he pops off the cork and takes a sip, only this time he recoils at the taste. He looks back and reads the label, and his eyes widen.

"Oh, shit. This was the wrong-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before collapsing to the ground, face down. The bottle doesn't shatter as it crashes to the ground, but the contents of it spill around him.

"Um."

You stand there in shock for a minute. You walk closer to gently kick his lifeless body, and sigh in relief when he snores. He's not dead, just asleep.

"I'm just gonna... go."

You take out your wallet, pull out a ten dollar bill, and place it on his head. Hopefully that covers the book.

Not sure what to do next, you walk out of the witch room and through the store to the entrance. There's no other employees working there, so with Chan dead on the floor—sorry, asleep on the floor—it's probably not a good idea to leave the store unlocked. Unfortunately, you don't have a key, so you just flip over the 'OPEN' sign to 'CLOSED' and head back home.

#bang chan #chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan fluff #chan fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader fluff #chris bang

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 2 months ago

Note

😈!!

Thanks for the ask! Here's a snippet from the next chapter of young blood (never get chained):

Charles’s childhood home doesn’t look much like it did five years ago. In the days after he banished his father, his mother redecorated one room at a time. The walls are painted bright colors now and every surface is cluttered with knick-knacks that are no longer at risk of being smashed against the wall during an argument. His father’s armchair, which seemed to exude menace even when he wasn’t sitting it in, is long gone, and his mother keeps her craft table in the space it took up. There’s nothing left of Paul Rowland here and the house is better for it. The only thing that hasn’t changed in the kitchen. The countertops are still the same chipped, faded yellow vinyl, the fridge still covered in old photos of Charles and childhood artwork. Everything is in exactly the same place that it’s been in for as long as Charles can remember, from the collection of ceramic elephants on top of a cabinet—too high up for Paul to easily break—to the overflowing spice rack to the cast iron cookware hanging from the walls. The only difference is that Edwin Payne is sitting at the kitchen table opposite from Charles’s mum, making polite small talk about a book they’ve both read, while Charles cooks dinner.

Make Me Write

#dead boy detectives #payneland #demon!charles au #ghost's fic #ghost's writing #ask games #make me write

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sparrows-house · 4 months ago

Text

SHORTS — ON AIR

The little studio room buzzed softly with electricity. The radio host in the neighboring room was finishing up their hour with smooth, slow jazz music. There was about ten minutes left before the next host. Well…hosts plural.

Alastor leaned against the table that had the switchboard, arms crossed and presence domineering. I sat awkwardly in his chair, trying not to hold the script too tight. His eyes were on me, watching me, studying me, and passing judgment on me.

His studio was so unlike the others, both in this station and other standard ones. Most had empty, dreary rooms with scattered papers, binders, books, and CDs. Fortunately, most vinyls were kept safely tucked in a hallway closet.

Alastor, however, didn’t allow disorder. The wall in front of his desk was lined with studio and personally owned CDs, cassette tapes, and Vinyls—properly labeled on the shelves—and all papers were put away in manila folders and filed away in a cabinet. A calendar, notepad, collection of fine pens and pencils, headphones, microphones and papers related to the current hour were the only things allowed on any open surface.

In the other corner of the desk, away from the switchboard, was an old green lamp that gave the room a soft, orangey glow. A worn leather chair sat in the remaining corner of the room with a tall lamp perched behind it. On the floor, covering the wires that ran along the tile, was an old rug that likely looked as bright as his hair in its prime.

I never took him for someone to create such a homey vibe but, at the same time, it wasn’t exactly surprising. Most stations had gone digital but Alastor refused to let this station do such a thing, claiming that switching to digital disconnected the host from his work and people. I didn’t understand it but I didn’t need to in order to do my job as the Marketing Director.

My role expanded, though, when Alastor himself asked me to join him as his radio partner. The Alastor Hartfelt had asked me to partner with him. He was fully aware of my lack of radio experience. My resume clearly showed my time and degree in the marketing field, while he had been at the same station since he was a boy.

Alastor unfolded his arms and took a single step behind me. He leaned his hands on the arm rests as he looked over my shoulder. His breath was loud in my ear dispite the normal distance—which felt anything but normal—and his hair brushed against mine. I was already nervous about this ordeal but that just made it worse.

“Relax,” he said softly, voice humming in my ears and melting into my skin, “You can’t see them but they’re there. They’ll hear every little change in your tone.”

“R-Right,” I nodded. My eyes looked over the words but I wasn’t actually reading. How could anyone read with Alastor being so close? I was too busy trying to keep my hands from visibly shaking.

“Read it,” he instructed. His warm breath ghosted my ear, making my stomach tighten.

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat, willing my heart to slow. I knew as soon as I started speaking that I wasn’t going to be able hide the tremors, “Good evening, good people of New Orleans. I’m joining Alastor—“

“No,” Alastor cut me off, voice sharp but not unkind, “You’re speaking at them. You need to reach out. Speak to one of them, not all.”

I felt him lean closer, his chest almost touching my shoulder but not quite. I could see his chin in the edges of my vision.

“Inspire them. Control them. Make them hang on your every word. You’re here to control the night. So take it.”

That didn’t seem like him at all. Alastor had always been about control and sipping on an ego far larger than should be allowed. Alastor would never give someone else that control. He didn’t ever share his little world in this tiny radio station. Yet here I was, sitting in it.

I swallowed with a dry throat. “Good evening people of New Orleans. I’m joining Alastor on this special occasion.”

Better, but still wobbly; still so unsure. He noticed the the white in my knuckles from gripping the paper. He could see the bend and crease from my unmoving hands. To be honest, my muscles were stiff from refusing to move an inch in the last twenty minutes.

He leaned further in, chest finally connecting with my back like a magnet. His voice was deep, gravely yet smooth and like warmth spilling into one’s ears. “Stop trying to gauge reactions. You’re used to watching other people but now there’s no faces. Pick your tone and go through with it, pushing away those intruding thoughts with every breath.”

He shifted his weight, hands creaking the leather of the armrests, and lowered his voice. “You’re more capable than you realize.”

I didn’t really know Alastor to be the comforting, teaching, or encouraging type. I rarely heard him give out compliments, either. So how was he so good at it?

Alastor was truly a different person when it came to stepping into his radio persona. He was different in this little room. It felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist, only the music and his sugar-coated words.

He never shared this world with anyone. Sure he spoke to his listeners and enticed them into a world of his design, but this was different. He had pulled me into his world with just his voice. We had always been proper and professional but this felt casual, as if we were too friends just having a late drink. Dare I say it actually felt intimate.

His red tipped hand moved from the armrest to splay across the papers, pressing them down into my lap. “Don’t read the script. Find yourself.” His voice was louder. I hadn’t felt him shift so when he spoke directly in my ear it made me flinch. “Now…do it again.”

He leaned away, still encasing my body with his, and waited. I took another, stabilizing breath and tried to push him out of my mind. It wouldn’t do to make him upset the first time I tried this new partnership. He needed someone as strong and as confident as him.

So why the hell did he pick me?

“Good evening,” I tried, punctuating it first just to be different from the script. “And thank you. Tonight, Alastor has allowed me the wonderful opportunity to speak with you.”

Alastor’s breath hitched ever so slightly but I caught it. I felt the shift in the air, the plucked frequency spiking for a beat then simmering back to normal. My eyes jumped around the wall, head perfectly still, as I waited for his next words.

But he didn’t say anything.

His hand that was on the papers in my lap moved to the edges, brushing my fingers. His touch was light yet sent sparks of electricity buzzing up my arm. It caused my own breath to hitch, my stomach tightening as he rested his hand on my wrist.

“That’s it,” he whispered, lips practically brushing my ear. “That’s the voice I want. Now keep it.” He removed his hand from my wrist and reached forward to grab the vinyl from the counter. The smell of cologne and dulled spices filled my nose as his shirt brushed my shoulder.

I glanced at the clock. Two minutes left.

My nerves buzzed under my skin, daring to resurface if I gave them an ounce of my attention. I could do this. I just had to pretend like what I was saying and doing was perfectly fine. No reactions to gauge. I had given plenty of presentations and speeches. I could do this.

And the only reaction I cared about the most was the one I could see.

Alastor handed me a set of headphones and I put them on, keeping one just slightly off an ear. He plugged in a second set and placed them on his head, careful not to crush his red ears.

He gave me a smile. Not one of those manipulative or fake ones. This…this was a genuine one.

The air of intimacy carried over as he plucked the vinyl needle and gently placed it on the record. His fingers gripped the counter and his legs were lazily crossed at his ankles. My eyes found every crease and fold in his outfit, appreciating the way his button down clung perfectly to the bend of his body. I rarely saw him without his jacket.

The first song began to play, an easy yet upbeat 80s tune to transition between the hours. He picked up the secondary microphone that had never been used and adjusted the screws.

I turned the chair and leaned on one of the armrests. His eyes flickered up to mine and it felt like a crackling silence hung between us despite the tune playing in our headsets. We were separate and at a distance, but our souls were connected through the frequencies. I felt warm. Not hot, bust just warm enough like a steady fire on a cold winter’s day. Alastor was right there with me.

His smile widened and he gave me a thumbs up, arm stretching across the motherboard, giving me a full display of his finely tailored chest, and turned on the microphones.

We were On Air

#demi demon #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #sparrow shorts

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transistor-rhythm-909 · 6 days ago

Text

Splatoon: Despair Decibel - Kick in da Game

Never underestimate the jester. You just might get your ass kicked.

A bit of a "first draft" for one of the intended scenes in Despair Decibel, featuring skint and one of the project's antagonists, Tetraodontiform- a pufferfish creature in the main big bad's service that presents himself as a priest, and who further manipulates those under The Hertz' influence with his insane holy ramblings to drive them into fanaticism. It was also a bit of a dry run of showing that though Skint is a very lighthearted character, he's a lot more competent and headstrong then some people give him credit for- and surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly) adept in a fight. He's still a corny motherfucker though, as some of the lines in here should indicate.

Named for Kick in da Game, by Masafumi Takada. Though the actual 'score' for the main action parts of this story + what inadvertantly inspired the entire scene, is DA PEOPLE by Hideki Naganuma.

***

As he skulked through the upper floors of Inkopolis Tower, the thing that disturbed Skint the most was how eerily pristine it was. The Plaza was ground zero for The Hertz, and though the area had since been secured, the scars of those early battles remained. And yet inside here... it was like nothing had happened. Everything was as it should be, barring the lack of people.

Made his frickin' skin layer crawl, for real.

Still, he had a job to do; Terracotta Canosa was sure those things The Dope One was using to bring all his cronies back from beyond the grave with- the 'Resurrection Dubplates', he thinks they called them?- were here, and they'd assured him his skills were necessary to retrieve them.

A polite way of saying “we need a thief”. He wasn't offended.

He had his doubts, though. He wasn't much of a military mind, but it would seem... extremely dumb to store something so important in somewhere so unsecure? It was all he could think as he poked into every office, dove into every filing cabinet; surely the big blue whale wasn't that stupid?

'No, but he would be that cocky'. That's what Lyre, the leader of the harpy group, had said when he raised that concern.

Skint could see the logic, he supposed. But it wasn't until walking into the restaurant in the main observation deck, and seeing a vinyl crate just plonked on a random table, that it really sunk in.

“Yeah... dude's MAD cocky.” Skint whispered to himself, as he approached the crate. It was sealed shut with what looked to be a rudimentary padlock- the kinda shit you use to lock up bikes.

Skint couldn't help but chuckle, pulling out the lock-picking gear he'd procured earlier. “Jeez... the cojones on this guy.”

It barely took any time fiddling with the tumblers to open the lock- seconds, if anything...

“I'd step away from that, if I were you.”

… but still long enough for someone to get the drop on him.

Skint sighed, turning around, keep his arms down and behind his back. He came face to face with that weird Pufferfish in the priestly garb, whom was currently aiming a very old looking pistol in his hand- it didn't seem to be ink based. He kinda looked a little worse for wear though- his other arm hung limply at his side, indicating it was broken, and he was covered in wounds.

Skint smirked. “Got a little roughed up did'ja, bro?”

A shot rang out, whizzing by his ear and making him flinch, but Skint kept smirking, even as the pufferfish growled.

“Back in my day, people who cracked wise at those who were armed died faster.” Tetraodontiform snarked, his lips curling into a snarl as his cheeks began to bulge. “Step away from the relics, please.”

Skint shuffled lazily to the side, sighing. “You really wanna do this, man? You can barely stand.”

Tetraodontiform smiled. “We've done our intel, Skint. You're unaffiliated with the NSS, you've no authentic combat training, your Turf War record is abysmal, you can barely handle arguments between your friends for goodness sake...” The pufferfish stalked closer, shortening the gap between them. “Even in my current condition, you're outmatched, my inky friend.”

Skint rolled his eyes. “I see why they called you up, then. Even a terminal fuckup like you can't screw this up.”

Tetraodontiform snarled, re-aligning the pistol with Skint's head. “You Inkfish simply don't know when to stop talking, do you?”

“Alright.” Skint said, reaching into his large backpack and quickly retrieving a standard black-and-white soccer ball, dropping it to the ground and placing his left foot atop it.

Tetraodontiform looked down in disbelief... before letting out an unruly laugh, dropping his aim and clutching his stomach. “What... is that your weapon?”

“Sure is.” Skint said, smiling brightly.

Tetraodontiform only laughed harder. “This is a farce! I cannot understand why The Dope One is so concerned with you, bumbling clown that you are. This is the best those ridiculous birds could do? This is their 'Champion'? Good grief, I fear I'll sooner die of hilarity at your incompetence than any threat you po-”

The pufferfish was cut off when the soccer ball struck him in the face very, very hard- with enough force to send him flying backwards and into some of the tables and chairs; it rebounded, cleanly, right back to Skint, trapping it with his other foot. “Looks like we 'Inkfish' ain't the only ones who can't help yappin', huh?”

Tetraodontiform recovered quick, but was clearly shaken as he tried to stand, staring back at Skint. “What in Gods name-”

The ball came flying towards him again, striking him in the stomach- hard- sending him back to the floor and knocking the wind out of him, causing his cheeks to involuntarily inflate; the ball, again, rebounded cleanly back to Skint's waiting foot.

“So you guys did your homework, huh?” Skint said, kicking the soccer ball upwards, starting to play a game of keepy-uppy as he spoke. “Cool. So you dudes know I'm a big Soccer guy then, right? 'Course you do! No big secret, 'course- I got more Cincelichthys Palace kit shirts then I've had hot meals, I do five-a-side with some folks every weekend, yadda yadda. Y'know, my parents- when they weren't trynna make me feel like shit- used to say I could go pro, if I wanted, that I got what it takes.”

Tetraodontiform, still panting, finally pulled himself to his feet, staring daggers at Skint. “Is there a point to this drivel, Inkling?”

“Point is, I done played a lot'a soccer. Watched a lot of it, too. I know all the tricks and skills like the back of my hand. But there's one thing in particular I learned that's prolly more important than any of that stuff.”

Tetraodontiform took aim, preparing to fire-

Only for Skint to head the ball as it came up, bouncing it off the floor and striking Tetraodontiform in the face as it bounded off the floor; the pufferfish stumbled as he let out a roar of pain, but remained standing, and Skint once more caught the ball on the rebound- subtly bouncing it off of his chest before catching it under one of his feet.

“Getting hit with the ball really friggin' hurts.”

Tetraodontiform let out a cry of fury, unleashing several shots in Skint's direction. Skint began dribbling with the ball, dodging the pufferfishes gunshots with ease and finesse fare beyond what was expected of him. Every now and then, Skint would get a shot of the ball off that either struck Tetraodontiform directly, or rebounded off of something first. It drove the pufferfish mad as he continued to miss every shot he took yet Skint always managed to land his, occasionally switching tactics to get in close and try to catch Skint with one of his lethal barbs, but the Inkling would just roll and use his backpack as a shield.

This dance went on for what felt like hours to the Pufferfish, each strike doing more and more damage as his already weakened body took a concerning amount of damage from the ball, his aim getting even less steady and accurate as pain and exhaustion seeped through every inch of his body.

Eventually, he collapsed to his knees, panting heavily, wounds reopened and oozing ancient blood, dropping the gun, back facing the large panelled windows. Skint just stared down at him from a small distance away, an uncharacteristically fierce look of contempt in his eyes.

“This is ridiculous..” Tetraodontiform groaned, gulping as he desperately tried to take in air. “You're a pacifist... a noncombatant... a practical jokester, a witless weakling, a good for nothing slacker, a NOBODY...!”

Skint frowned. “You really think I was gonna just roll over and let you and your boss do what they want to my home? My neighbours? Innocent people? Get real, dude. 'Sides, you think I'd still be here if I didn't know how and when to scrap? Face it, bud; you underestimated the jester, and now you're the fool.”

“This humiliation will not stand...” Tetraodontiform grunted, as he shakily rose to his feet, stumbling around in an almost drunken manner as he tried and failed to stay upright. “I am the holy envoy of the Dope One... I am the just right hand to the one true God of this world... I will be the one to bathe it in bright, undying light!!!”

“Yeah?” Skint scoffed, chuckling slightly. “Alright, holy dude, remind me; what did Satan say to Lucifer?”

Tetraodontiform looked at Skint with a bewildered expression, before screaming in fury, taking aim one last time and firing-

Which Skint dodged effortlessly, turning on the spot and catching the soccer ball with the sole of his foot; the ball bounced around the observation deck, off of several windows with frightening speed and ferocity, before it finally slammed directly into Tetraodontiform, with enough force to send him careening backwards into the window...

… and then through it, plummeting to the ground below.

“'Watch out; that fall's a doozy.” Skint quipped to himself, before quietly strolling over to the formerly sealed vinyl crate, carrying it underarm as he headed out of the observation deck.

#decon's writing #funny squid game

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krystalskeleton · 2 years ago

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Guns N' Roses at the Hell House

“If Orchid Street was ground zero of Guns N’ Roses when Axl, Izzy, and I all lived there, the alleyway behind Gardner was where the whole thing came together once we had discovered we were a real band. We set up the garagelike, ten-by-fourteen structure as our gang headquarters—a place to rehearse, party, and, much of the time, to spend the night. The storage space itself had a door and unadorned cinder-block walls. There was no bathroom, but for four hundred bucks a month, who expected a bathroom? And anyway, there was a latrine in the parking lot. There was also no a/c or heat, but there was electricity and we could make noise twenty-four hours a day. Our gear was all very old and beat-up, with the vinyl covers shredding off the cabinets and all. But in this room our shitty gear sounded magical, clear, and huge.”

— Duff McKagan

#guns n roses #gnr #gunsnroses #guns n' roses #gunsnfuckinroses #rockstars #80s rock #80s #axl rose #izzy stradlin #slash #duff mckagan #steven adler #hard rock #80s bands #hair metal

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thunderheadfred · 10 months ago

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Nail storage cabinet is nearly ready for nail things! I probably can’t even fill half of this yet, but the other half can happily hold office things! I still have leather drawer pulls to put on, but I’m waiting on some extra hardware to reverse-engineer them, since the drawer fronts are so thin.

Apparently all the other trendy nail people use these metal IKEA HELMER cabinets - indeed they look super satisfying when filled with polishes - so I got a color that is getting discontinued and was like $30 cheaper, then covered the drawer fronts with peel-and-stick vinyl wallpaper.

Getting this bitch pattern-matched with pregnancy brain took an embarrassingly long time, but I did it.

#Fred’s nails

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milkgemini · 2 years ago

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Last Call II

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: This is SMUT! 18+ Minors DNI (i’m not gonna ruin the surprise by telling you what happens ;)

A/N: im so sorry that this took forever babies! i genuinely didn't think anyone was interested. this is for the person who requested part 2 on anon. ily.

“It’s just here to the left” Jake’s head nodded towards his house.

The heels of your boots clicked as you walked by his side, your hand stuffed in the pocket of his coat from how freezing the night temperature was.

His hands were warm, a strong contrast against your icy fingers. He rubbed his thumb against your knuckles in his pocket.

He took your hand from his coat pocket, and held it in his grasp as he guided you up the steps to his home.

As you both approached the front door, he let go of your hand in search of his keys. The outside world was silent. The only sound ringing in your ears was the jingling of his keys, as you watched the condensation leave your lips into the frigid winter air.

You wrapped your arms around his left arm, seeking any warmth you could find. He huffed a laugh through his nose in response.

Jake twisted the key, unlocking the door and inviting you inside.

“It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

Your eyes scanned the room. His living room had a gray theme. Gray couch, accentuated by a dark blanket folded on the back of it.

He had a stack of records piled in the corner leaning against what looked to be an expensive record player.

Your fingertips traced the dark abstract painting he had hung on the wall.

He went through the stack of vinyls behind you, flicking through the cases.

“Do you have any requests?”

You walked towards him to view your options.

Your eyes immediately caught the deep red album cover. One of your favorites, you’d recognize it anywhere.

“Ouu this one please!” you almost yelped to him.

“Ahh, “Coming Home”. You have good taste.” he responded as he placed the vinyl on the turntable.

You could feel the warmth begin to rise against the skin of your cheeks from the compliment.

The bluesy song began playing in the background as he stood from his crouched position, sliding his hand against the curve of your lower back.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

“Well, what do you have? Don’t disappoint the bartender.” you quipped back to him with a smirk on your face.

He chuckled and responded, “Just about anything you can think of. Try me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, watching him retrieve a glass from the cabinet and turning to face you, waiting for your request.

“Surprise me. Something sour, and don’t hold back.”

“My kind of girl.” his voice was raspy, sending a chill down your spine.

He quickly prepared your drink, sliding it across the counter to you, just as you had done for him earlier that night.

As you put the glass to your lips and took a sip, he began preparing his own.

Simple. Whiskey on the rocks.

You winced as you watched him sip the straight liquor.

“Did I disappoint?” a slight frown splayed across his face.

“Not at all! Mine is great. I just… I don't know how you can drink that.” the disgusted look remained on your face.

“Understandable. But this is Blanton’s.” he raised the glass to you and took another swig.

From your experience behind the bar, you knew that was expensive stuff.

“I’ve never tried it before, so I guess I shouldn’t make assumptions…” you mimicked his actions and pressed your lips to the rim of the glass, your eyes looking up at him.

He stood opposite from you on the other side of the island in the kitchen.

“Would you like to try?” he offered as he began to round the corner, coming to your side.

Your stomach was tight with nerves, from the man you were alone in the room with, and the thought of tasting the bitter liquor.

“Only because you asked so nicely” you reached for the glass in his hand and he pulled it back from you.

Your eyes met his with confusion behind them.

“If you're going to try it, you’re going to do so my way.” his voice was laced with lust.

As he stepped closer to you, you could smell the deep cologne against his skin. His tan chest adorned by a silver medallion necklace.

His pointer finger was curved and rested underneath your chin, tilting your head up to him.

He pressed the pad of his thumb against the front of your chin, parting your lips for him.

His fingertips against your jawline. Tilting your head back, he pulled your lower jaw down, opening your mouth for him.

He took a sip of the auburn liquid from the glass, and hovered himself over you.

Slowly, the liquor trickled past his lips into your mouth.

He used his pointer finger and middle finger to press against the underside of your chin, closing your mouth.

“Swallow.” He commanded.

You looked up to him, your eyes wide.

He watched you gulp it down, and before you could even register the burn from the alcohol, his lips smashed against yours.

His hands held your cheeks tightly.

His kiss was needy, begging for you with his lips.

The tip of his tongue flicked against your bottom lip.

You opened your mouth for him, inviting him inside.

You felt the warmth of his tongue slide against yours.

As the kiss deepend, he pushed his hips into the side of your thigh. You felt his hardened length constricted against his jeans.

His saliva mixed with yours in your mouth as you swallowed him down.

You trailed your fingers against the bare skin of his chest. Reaching the waistline of his jeans, you traced along the elastic band of his underwear.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, darling.” he mumbled against your lips, his grip on your cheeks remained tight.

You hooked your pointer finger underneath the band, pulling him closer to you.

He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulling you off of the bar stool you were sitting on.

You stood before him. Your height reaching just beneath his chin.

Jake snaked his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck and tugged the locks, arching your neck back for him.

His soft lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck, planting quick kisses and flicking his tongue against you.

“Second door on the right.” his voice vibrated against you as he continued kissing against you.

He spun you around by your hips, playfully pushing you towards the direction of his room.

As you walked down the dark hallway, you reached your hand behind you. He interlocked his fingers with yours as you led the way.

You pushed the door open and scanned the room. His duvet was a deep navy blue, neatly made which surprised you.

Before you could even reach the bed to sit, you heard the door shut behind you.

Jake began to undo the buttons of his shirt as he watched you perched on the side of his bed.

“And what do you think you're doing?” he questioned, you could hear the smirk in his tone.

“I’m sitting, Jacob. What does it look like I'm doing?” you were playing his game right back with him.

He smiled to himself, looking down at the floor.

You sat on your hands, your nerves coursing through your body, unsure of how he would take your snarky remark.

His shirt fell from the floor as he took a step towards you.

“On your knees for me.” he ordered and you complied, embarrassingly fast.

His hips lined with your eyes as he unbuttoned his jeans. You assisted him with the zipper, pulling it down painfully slow.

Your bottom lip was tucked tight between your teeth as you looked up to him, fingers tucked under the band of his underwear, tugging them down his hips.

He helped you pull both his pants and underwear down past his hips, his cock springing free and slapping against his lower stomach.

You licked your lips at the sight of his length, wrapping your hand around the base of him.

The tip of his cock rested against your plump lips as you pressed soft kisses to the head.

His hips bucked towards you, needing to feel the warmth of the inside of your mouth.

He laced his fingers through the hair at the back of your head, slightly pulling you towards him.

You flattened your tongue against his length, licking a stripe against it from the base to the tip, your eyes remaining locked with his.

His lips were pursed as he watched your every move from above.

“C’mon baby. Taste it.” he applied pressure to the back of your head, pushing you against him.

You opened your mouth slightly, only letting the tip in. Your tongue swirled around the head, as you brushed the wet skin of the inside of your lips against him.

A breathy moan escaped his lips, edging you on even more.

You lowered your jaw, opening your mouth wider for him.

“That’s it baby. Let me in.” His words alone caused you to squeeze your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction.

You bobbed your head down his length slowly, allowing the skin to become wet with your spit.

You picked up the pace of your motions, paying close attention to the tip each time you pulled back off of him, your fist still wrapped around the base of his cock with a tight grasp.

“Just like that, fuck.” he moaned to you, barely a whisper.

His words encouraged you each time. You wanted all of him. Craving the feeling of the tip of his cock brushing against the back of your throat.

You flattened the palms of your hands against the bare skin of his thighs, looking up at him with doe eyes as you inched your mouth down his cock.

He gripped your head with both hands as he began slowly thrusting into your mouth.

He looked down to meet your eyes, silently asking for permission.

You moaned with him in your mouth, granting him the access he so desperately craved.

He held your head as the pace of his thrusts picked up. His cock sliding against your tongue, you opened your throat for him.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you held back your gags from him.

Jake felt the tip of his cock brush past your uvula, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

He gritted his teeth, trying to hold on as best as he could.

“You’re filthy. Letting me fuck your face like this.” he spoke to your between thrusts, his fingers tugging your hair at the roots.

You flattened your tongue, allowing him even farther down your throat, breathing through your nose.

He pushed your face against him until your nose brushed against his small patch of hair.

He held you there a few seconds as you gagged around his cock.

Jake pulled you away from him by your hair, a string of saliva hung from your lip attached to his tip.

He swiped the pad of his thumb against your lips, gathering your spit before slipping it between his own lips.

You moaned at his actions.

He pulled you to your feet by your hair.

“On the bed,” he pushed you back against the mattress.

His hands quickly found the button to your jeans, undoing them and tugging them down your legs.

He held your legs in the air as he pulled each pant over your feet.

Starting at your ankle, he traced his lips against the inside of your legs, leaving wet kisses in his path.

He curved his finger under your panties, pulling them to the side.

His pointer finger traced lighty down your lower lips, avoiding the place you wanted to feel his touch the most.

You bucked your hips up to him, craving the feeling of his fingers.

He parted your lips with his pointer and middle finger, his eyes scanning over your wetness for him.

His pointer finger ran up your slit before he brought it to his mouth to taste you.

“Even sweeter than I imagined.” He sucked his finger, pulling it past his lips with a pop.

You blushed before him, laying against the mattress.

“Please, Jake.” you begged for him.

“What is it darling? Tell me what you want." He played with you with his words.

“Touch me.” Your words were strained, you needed him.

His fingertips traced circles over your hardened nipples, hidden behind the thin top you wore.

Your back arched off the bed, enjoying his touch, but needing more. You shook your head at him, a moan falling past your lips.

“Lower.” you wrapped your fingers around his hand, guiding him down your stomach.

His hand reached the band of your panties, brushing the back of his fingers against the lace.

He swiped the back of his fingers against your clothed core.

“Here?” he teased.

You hooked your thumbs around the band of your underwear, pulling them down yourself, and spreading yourself for him.

“So needy, aren't you?” he pressed the pad of his thumb against the top of your slit, not parting your lips just yet.

“Yes, Jake. I need you. Please.” you pleaded with him.

His cock twitched at the sound of you begging for his touch.

His position changed, crouching before you, his face between your thighs.

You watched from above, as he flattened his tongue, licking a stripe up your slit.

His cheeks hollowed as he accumulated saliva to the tip of his tongue, letting it roll down from him and dribble onto your lips.

You whimpered as his spit rolled between your lips. He watched your reaction with a smug look on his face.

He pointed the tip of his tongue and explored the wet skin between your folds, rolling his tongue over the bud of your clit.

Your hips rose from the bed at the feeling of him flicking against your sensitive bud.

He attached his lips around your clit, gently sucking. His eyes were trained on you from below.

You pressed the back of your head deeper into the pillow as you reached down to tangle your fingers in his long brown hair.

Just as he did to you before, you pressed him further against you.

His tongue circled the rim of your entrance as a high pitch squeal came from you.

He laughed to himself between your legs at your reaction.

The tip of his tongue inched further inside of you as he licked against your walls.

He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, moving in slow circles around it.

Jake left open mouth kisses to your entrance as his finger played with you above. The mixture of both pleasures created the familiar warm feeling between your hips to rise.

“I’m..” you could barely make out the words to him.

“I know, pretty. I can feel it. Go head, cum on my tongue for me.” he instructed you.

His words had the power to ruin you.

With his voice vibrating against your wet center, you began to come undone against his mouth.

The walls of your entrance began to quiver for him as he pressed his tongue against you to feel it. His thumb never faltered against your clit.

He toyed with you through your orgasm as your walls contracted for him.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let yourself feel every touch from him.

As you came back down to earth, you lifted your head from the pillow to peek down at him.

His mouth had left your lower lips. He pushed the hem of your shirt up towards you to trace a line up your stomach with his tongue.

You arched yourself from the bed to assist him in yanking your shirt over your head as he unclasped your bra behind you.

He ripped the straps from over your shoulders to immediately find your nipples. He circled his tongue around the hardened bud, followed by his lips wrapping around them tightly.

He sucked against them, but not without scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin there.

You sucked a breath through clenched teeth at the sensation.

He crawled up further, his warm bare skin pressed against yours.

His lips met with yours once more, leading in with an open mouth kiss. His tongue shoved into your mouth, licking into you.

His mouth remained against yours as he gripped the base of his length, sliding himself against the wetness of your folds.

You groaned into his mouth each time the tip of his cock brushed over your clit.

Your hand snaked down between your bodies, pressing his length down to be met with your entrance, signaling to him you wanted him inside of you. Now.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You desperately wanted to be stretched by him.

He didn’t even have it in him anymore to tease any further. He wanted to feel your tight walls around him.

Without breaking the kiss, he pushed himself inside you slowly.

You felt every inch as he sank deeper into you.

You parted from him only to moan in pleasure from the stretch of his girth.

He smoothed over your hair, tucking it behind your hair, before placing a quick kiss to your forehead.

It was like he was preparing you for what was to come next.

He leant back against his heels as he gripped his palms around the bones of your hip.

He thrusted into you, watching himself as your walls sucked him in each time.

His bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he caught a glimpse of your slick glistening against his length.

His right hand left your hips to find your mouth. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip. You parted your lips for him and he pressed the pad of it against your tongue. You closed your mouth around the digit sucking lightly against it.

Jake’s eyes rolled back as your tongue swirled around his thumb.

He pushed himself into you harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix.

He retracted his thumb from your mouth to tap the side of your thigh.

“Turn around for me.” he commanded you.

You left your position to find yourself on your hands and knees, your back arched in front of him.

Without warning, he smacked his palm roughly over the curve of your ass. A groan following from you.

With both hands, he gripped your cheeks to spread you apart for him.

He held the base of his cock and positioned himself at your entrance again.

Slowly, he slid himself inside of you from behind. The different position allowing him to thrust even deeper into you.

Before he reached the hilt, you felt as his spit dripped against your backside, landing directly against your hole.

You whined at the feeling as he rubbed the saliva against you.

He thrusted into you rough, as his thumb pressed against a place no one has touched before.

He kept his thumb in place as he added pressure, unsure of how you felt. You could sense he wanted more.

“Do it, Jake. Push it in.” you moaned to him in confirmation.

“So fucking dirty for me.” he growled back to you, as he pressed his thumb deeper inside you, filling both of your holes.

You arched your back more at the feeling. Feeling so full of Jake from every angle.

He pushed himself into you, watching himself as he thrusted in and out.

His thumb was pressed fully inside of you, the rest of his four fingers splayed across your lower back.

He wiggled the finger inside of you, and you gave a strung out whine in response.

Jake felt as your walls began to clench around him. Your wetness leaking down your thigh at the sensation of him pushing his finger into your ass, while his cock was shoved all the way inside of you.

With his free hand, he slapped the side of your thigh.

“Let go for me. Let me feel it.” he grunted to your between thrusts.

He started to pull his thumb from inside of you, just to push it back in at the same pace as his cock.

Your body gave no warning as you abruptly lost yourself to him.

You panted into the pillow as your orgasm washed over you. Your walls quivering around his cock as you push back against him, needing to feel every inch.

You clung to his length, begging him to never leave from inside of you.

With a choked sob, you felt it as Jake’s cock twitched inside of you.

Before he could ask, “Inside, please.” you confirmed for him before he lost his grip on himself.

The sound of your soft voice begging him to release inside of you sent him over the edge he was so tightly gripping onto.

You felt as he leaked inside of you, spilling out onto your legs, running down your thighs.

He didn’t stop. He watched as he fucked his cum back into you.

You whined at the wet sounds alone as he pumped into you.

He stilled himself inside.

“Gonna pull out now, okay?” His voice was soft with concern. You nodded your head to him from above.

First, he slid his cock from you, immediately missing his fullness.

Next was his thumb. He was slow and cautious with you. You hissed as he pulled it out.

With both palms flat against your ass, he spread you for himself as he watched his cum leak from your pussy.

Shock was beyond what you felt, as he licked a stripe up your slit, collecting a mixture of his cum and your own on his tongue. You squealed to him, as your head was turned against the pillow, trying your best to watch him.

He dropped onto the bed, laying next to you, grabbing each side of your face with his hands before pressing his lips onto yours.

You opened your mouth, tasting the saltiness of his cum against his tongue.

Jake let out a final moan into your mouth, before parting from you and smoothing your hair down with his hand.

He stared into your eyes, with a smile spread across his face. His gaze continued until he laughed to himself.

“What?” you laughed back at him.

Before he could respond, he ran a hand over his face as he continued to laugh.

“Do you treat all of your customers this well?”

Taglist: @gretasimp @writingcold @wowkakashi @spark-my-nature @starshine-wagner @cassy-face @averagemisfit03

#jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka greta van fleet #Greta Van Fleet #gretavanfleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut #gvf #gvf fic #jake kiszka x y/n

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