#who did the same pull AND double it down pretty mucH

[slimeypaws]

talk nerdy to me.

pairing — athlete! charlie slimecicle x nerd! reader

summary — after falling behind in class, charlie reaches out to a past group partner for help.

tags — college au; tension, unreasonably rude reader, uhm.. i’m not sure what else.

you’d never really thought about charlie dalgleish.

well — that wasn’t exactly true. you thought about him in the same way you thought about any other frat boy who wandered around campus in school issued athletic gear, always surrounded by his pack of equally loud, equally obnoxious friends. you thought about him in the same way you thought about any guy who coasted through college on athletic scholarships and social capital.

which is to say: you thought he was an idiot.

it was a little mean, sure. a little unfair. you didn’t know him. not really.

but you knew of him.

knew he was a basketball player — a pretty good one, from what you heard. knew he ran around with guys like schlatt and ted, which immediately tanked any good impression you might’ve had of him. knew he showed up to class just often enough to keep his grades passable and his eligibility intact.

you didn’t have any actual proof that he was a dick. but he never really did anything to disprove it, either.

he barely talked to you when you ended up in a group project together last semester. not that you cared — you hated group projects anyway, and you were more than happy to take the lead and get it done without much input. but it was hard not to notice the way charlie never seemed to have much to say to you specifically.

he was fine enough with everyone else. joked around, made the group laugh, pulled his weight (barely) when it came down to it. but you?

you got a grand total of four words out of him and a few hums of agreement the entire project.

“yeah, sure,” when you asked if he could print out the report.

“thanks, man,” when you handed him a copy.

and “uh huh,” when you asked if he was good with your part of the presentation.

that was it.

you didn’t think too hard about it at the time. you just wrote him off as another one of those guys who only paid attention to people they found useful or interesting. and since you were neither — well.

it wasn’t like you were hoping for a friendship or anything.

but it still left a weird taste in your mouth.

so yeah. you didn’t really think about charlie dalgleish. and if you did, it was never anything positive.

which was why you were so thrown when he approached you after class one day, about a month into the semester.

you were stuffing your notebook into your bag, already mentally calculating how much time you had before your next lecture, when you heard his voice.

“hey — uhm, can i ask you something?”

you barely registered it at first. you’d never had a conversation with charlie outside of that group project, and you weren’t expecting one now.

so when you glanced up and saw him standing there — shifting his weight, looking a little awkward, very much addressing you — you actually did a little double take.

“…me?”

“yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “uhm, you got a second?”

you blinked. looked around, like maybe he was talking to someone behind you.

nope.

“…sure,” you said slowly. “what’s up?”

charlie let out a short breath, like he was trying to psych himself up.

“okay, uhm — this is gonna sound kinda weird, but — you’re good at calc, right?”

your eyebrows lifted. “i mean.. yeah?”

he let out a humorless laugh, already looking embarrassed. “cool. uh, do you… think you could, like.. help me out with it?”

you stared at him.

“…help you.”

“yeah. like, tutoring? or — i dunno, just. explaining shit to me. ‘cause i am struggling, dude.”

your brain short circuited.

charlie dalgleish was asking you to tutor him. like you weren’t the same person he barely acknowledged during a whole month long group project. like you hadn’t already decided he was an airheaded frat bro with the depth of a puddle. like this wasn’t the most absurd thing that could’ve possibly happened today.

“you —” you blinked hard. “why me?”

charlie winced. “i mean, you’re.. smart. and i’ve seen you in class and you always get it, and i thought — i dunno, maybe you could help me not bomb this semester?”

you folded your arms across your chest, already feeling defensive. “don’t you have, like, team tutors or something?”

“yeah, but they kinda suck,” he admitted sheepishly. “and, like — no offense, but they’re kinda used to working with guys who are already dumb as rocks, so they just.. oversimplify everything. and i’m not — like, i get it sometimes, i just need someone who can actually, like, break it down when i don’t, y’know?”

your nose wrinkled. “i don’t know why you think i’m that person.”

charlie laughed — a little strained, but still a laugh. “c’mon, man. you’re, like, stupid good at this shit. i remember from our project last semester — you made all those graphs and formulas look like nothing. you’re, like, a genius or whatever.”

you tried not to bristle at the ‘or whatever.’

“and i get it if you’re busy, or you just don’t wanna,” he added quickly. “like, no pressure. i just thought i’d ask.”

you stared at him for a beat too long.

on one hand — what the fuck. where was this coming from? why was he suddenly acting like you were the second coming of einstein after ignoring you for an entire month last semester?

on the other hand — you did need the money.

and if he was serious, he’d probably be willing to pay. then, you could probably put up with him for a few hours a week.

“…you paying?” you asked, carefully neutral.

charlie blinked, like that caught him off guard. “uh — yeah? i mean, if you want?”

“how much?”

“i —” he floundered. “i dunno. what do tutors usually charge?”

you shrugged. “twenty an hour.”

charlie whistled lowly. “shit, okay. yeah. that’s — yeah, i can do that.”

you raised a brow. “you sure?”

“yeah. dude, if it means i don’t fail, i’ll pay you whatever you want.”

you chewed your lip. everything in you still screamed don’t get involved with him. but twenty bucks an hour was hard to say no to.

“…alright,” you said finally. “i’m free wednesdays and fridays. library, five o’clock. don’t be late.”

charlie’s face lit up like you’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket. “oh, fuck yeah, oh my god, thank you. i owe you my life.”

“you owe me twenty an hour,” you deadpanned.

he laughed — a real laugh, this time — and goddammit, it was a nice sound. warm and genuine and nothing like the shallow impression you’d built of him in your head.

you tamped down the feeling immediately.

“right. yeah. twenty an hour. got it.”

“cool. see you friday.”

and then you turned on your heel and walked away before you could do something stupid, like think about the way his smile made your chest feel weird.

you didn’t expect charlie to show up on time.

in fact, you half expected him to forget entirely.

but when you got to the library that friday, five minutes early just to be safe, he was already there — sitting at a corner table, calc textbook cracked open in front of him.

you stopped short.

he didn’t notice you at first, too focused on scribbling something in his notebook. when he did glance up, his face lit up with a smile so bright it almost knocked you off balance.

“hey!” he said, like you were old friends.

you forced a thin smile. “hey.”

dropping your bag on the table, you took the seat across from him, already dreading whatever this session was about to be.

“so,” you said, pulling out your own notebook. “what are you stuck on?”

charlie blew out a breath and flipped through his textbook like he was fanning a fire.

“uh, pretty much all of this,” he muttered. “but mostly the derivatives stuff.”

your eyes flicked to the section he was pointing at. basic differentiation rules.

this was, like, week two material.

“...you’re still on this?” you asked, before you could think better of it.

charlie winced. “yeah, i know,” he said sheepishly. “i’ve been — y’know. busy.”

you hummed noncommittally. you knew what busy meant. extra gym time. late night parties. too many post practice hangouts with schlatt and his crowd.

you didn’t say it, but you knew he could tell you were thinking it.

“i’m not —” charlie started, then shook his head. “whatever. just — can we start here?”

you weren’t going to argue. twenty bucks an hour was twenty bucks an hour.

“fine,” you said. “let’s see what you’ve got so far.”

to your surprise, charlie actually had been trying. his notebook was a mess of crossed out problems and half solved equations, but there was effort there — little margin notes in his awful handwriting, arrows pointing to mistakes he’d caught on his own.

he just wasn’t getting it.

and to his credit, once you started walking him through the steps, he listened.

like — really listened.

his brows furrowed in concentration, jaw clenched tight, pencil scratching fast as he copied down your explanations. he asked questions — good ones. not just the obligatory ones people asked to sound engaged. he paid attention too. repeated things back to you to make sure he was understanding it. when you gave him practice problems, he chewed on his pen cap, visibly concentrating, and when he got one wrong, he didn’t get frustrated — just scratched his head and asked where he screwed up.

it wasn’t what you expected.

and honestly? it was a little annoying.

because part of you had already written him off as some dumb jock who wouldn’t take this seriously — who’d laugh off his confusion, crack some joke, and waste your time.

instead, he was focused. determined. more than willing to sit quietly and figure this shit out.

it was weird.

“so, wait,” charlie said, interrupting your train of thought. “if you’re doing chain rule, but there’s, like, three layers, does that mean you…?”

he trailed off, scribbling something down — then flipped his notebook around to show you.

“yeah,” you said reluctantly. “that’s right.”

“hell yeah,” charlie grinned, pleased with himself. “you’re a goddamn magician, man.”

you snorted. “i just know how to read a textbook.”

“yeah, well, my textbook’s written in ancient sumerian or some shit, so.”

despite yourself, you laughed.

you regretted it immediately.

because charlie’s smile got wider — like that reaction actually meant something — and that weird feeling from before started creeping back in.

you shifted in your seat, suddenly eager to change the subject.

“anyway,” you said brusquely. “if you actually wanna pass calc, you’ve gotta stay on top of this stuff.”

“i am on top of it,” charlie shot back, a little defensive. “why d’you think i asked you to help?”

“yeah, after letting yourself fall weeks behind.”

charlie’s brow twitched. “yeah, well. sorry i don’t have time to memorize a textbook between practices.”

you scoffed. “right. practice.”

charlie’s eyes narrowed.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing,” you said, tone flat.

“no, no,” he said, crossing his arms. “go ahead.”

you sighed heavily, dragging a hand down your face. “it’s just — whatever, man. it’s your grade.”

“yeah,” charlie said tightly. “it is.”

the tension sat thick between you for a moment, and you braced yourself for him to call it quits — to pack up his stuff and walk out.

but instead, charlie exhaled hard through his nose.

“alright,” he muttered, flipping his notebook back open. “can we just — keep going?”

you blinked.

“…yeah,” you said finally. “sure.”

the rest of the session was… slow.

not because charlie wasn’t trying. if anything, he was trying too hard.

he hung onto every word you said, asked clarifying questions, double checked his answers with you — but the material just wasn’t clicking fast enough.

and you were so close to losing your patience.

“no,” you said flatly, stopping him as he went to box his answer. “that’s wrong.”

charlie blinked. “what? how?”

you snatched his notebook and jabbed your finger at his work.

“you forgot to apply the chain rule here, again. you literally just did this same problem right two minutes ago. how did you already forget?”

charlie’s mouth opened — then shut. his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“…right,” he muttered, reaching for his pencil. “my bad.”

you watched him rewrite the equation, a tight coil of irritation winding in your chest.

how was he still not getting it? it wasn’t that hard. this was calc i. he was making it harder than it needed to be.

“jesus,” you muttered, scrubbing a hand down your face. “how are you even passing the class right now?”

charlie let out a weak, humorless chuckle. “i’m… not,” he admitted. “hence —” he gestured vaguely to the notebook. “this.”

you snorted. “well, you’re sure as hell not gonna pass if you keep forgetting basic differentiation rules.”

charlie didn’t flinch. didn’t snap back or bristle at your tone — he just nodded, like he agreed with you.

“yeah,” he said quietly. “right.”

for some reason, that annoyed you even more.

“okay, whatever,” you huffed, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook. “i’m gonna walk you through it again, and you’re gonna actually retain it this time.”

charlie cracked a faint, sheepish smile. “gotcha, coach.”

you ignored the weird heat that flared in your face.

by the time the session dragged into its second hour, your nerves were frayed. you were tired, charlie still wasn’t catching on as fast as you wanted him to, and his unflappable patience was grating on you.

like — why wasn’t he getting annoyed? why wasn’t he cracking a dumb joke or checking his phone or making any of the careless, half assed mistakes you’d expected him to?

instead, he just kept his head down, knuckles white around his pencil as he slogged through problem after problem, brow furrowed in deep concentration.

and the weirdest fucking part?

he still thanked you when you were done.

“seriously,” he said as you shoved your stuff into your bag. “i know i’m kinda… y’know. behind. but this actually helped.”

“great,” you said dryly. “glad i could dumb it down enough for you.”

charlie just laughed. like you weren’t being a dick on purpose.

“see you wednesday?” he asked.

“…yeah,” you muttered.

and you hated that you didn’t hate the idea as much as you thought you would.

© slimeypaws

[theredcuyo]

"Why would you do all of this for me even after all i did to you?!"

"Because i love you, the you that it's really behind all of it, the you that you fight not to show to the world but that i've seen before anyway"

Is such a raw line that i asure you, if it's present in a fic, not necessary letter by letter, but in sentiment, then that's a good fucking fic

Wheter platonic or romantic

[deadhands69]

OKAY PLLLLLLS giving bakugo his first ever bj. He’s so nervous but excited. He’s 22 and is finally ready to let himself feel something other than anger and frustration, and he’s letting you give him so much pleasure.

Okay!

MDNI

Katsuki Bakugo is terrified. He knows he shouldn’t be, all of his friends have done it before and talk about getting blowjobs nonstop. But still, as he looks down at you hovering above the zipper of his pants, he can't help it if his hands are shaking and sweating. What if it’s a weird shape and he has no clue until you’re that close? Or maybe he will cum before you even put it in your mouth and then you’ll tell everyone. Worse, what if he tastes bad?

Ironically, his anxiety is what got him into this mess in the first place. Everyone kept saying he needs to relax. Making jokes about how if only he got his dick sucked maybe he wouldn’t be so this *gesturing at all of him.* Eventually, you realized there may actually be some truth to that and took it upon yourself to help him out. 

So, when you asked if you could give him a blowjob - of course he said yes. A million times yes. Under the stress of it all, he really wants it too. He hasn't said it out loud, but he's been looking forward to doing this with you all week. It's all he's been able to think about. And when you say you'll make him feel good, he trusts you.

“Okay, let’s just - let’s just get this over with,” he stutters, unsure of how to properly convey the mix of feelings he has. Fortunately, you're used to reading through his roughness.

You pull down his pants and underwear, revealing an absolutely gorgeous dick. It’s apparent he showered and tried to clean up the hair around it to be presentable, but it goes way beyond that. The slight curve, perfect shape, and rosy tip are beautiful.

You’ve been staring too long and he's starting to look uncomfortable; you pull yourself back to reality.

"So pretty," you murmur, trailing a finger along the vein running down his length.

His fists are clenched around the bunched up sheets near his hips. In some combination of nervousness and excitement (they're nearly the same feeling, he's finding) you can tell he’s trying hard to control his breathing. Under the tenseness, you can still tell he's ecstatic this is happening. It's the way he looks at you. How he got hard the moment you walked into the room. The way his painfully hard dick twitches at your lightest touch.

When you lick him from base to tip, he swears everything else in the world disappears. Melting like he's ice cream and you're a hot summer day. Nothing else could possibly matter when your mouth feels like that. This is what everyone was talking about? Nothing anyone told him prior to this did any justice to how amazing this feels.

You take him fully into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you slide up and down. One of your hands cups his balls while the other grips his base, holding him in place.

Involuntarily, he whimpers at your touch. His deathgrip on the bed lessens. He runs his fingers through your hair, moving it out of your face to watch. Your eyes meet his as you stare up at him; it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He gasps as you pull back, swirling your tongue around his tip.

"You feel so fucking good," he moans at you. Hips jerking up, searching for any amount of friction he can find.

Normally, he hates messes but he’ll make a massive exception for this. Who would have known that seeing your spit dripping down his cock would be so hot?

He doesn’t last long, which you take as a compliment. 

“Fuck, bout to cum,” he warns, assuming you’ll want to stop.

Rather than move out of the way, you continue what you’re doing. Taking him deeper into your mouth before he blows his load into the back of your throat. He sits up, doubling over to wrap his arms around you as much as he can. As far as he can remember, that’s the hardest he’s ever cum. Although, admittedly, he can’t remember much right now.

Pulling you up with him, he lays back on the bed. Kissing your swollen lips, he can taste himself on you.

And he’ll never be able to look at your perfect mouth the same way again.

[luveline]

hii jade are u going to write something about hotchner!reader and spencer any soon?

—You panic when Spencer’s late for a date. He makes it up to you as best as he can. fem, 2.6k

cw implied past child abuse

You weren’t young when you were adopted, so you were instilled very quickly with the need to be grateful. How lucky you were to be given a second chance at a family. How you owed it to your new family to be the perfect daughter and sister to a father who didn’t like you and two brothers your senior. 

Family for you is complicated. It always has been. You didn’t get the unconditional love you’d hoped for in all of them, but you have one older brother who loves you as though you and him are two branches of the same tree, and maybe that’s enough for anyone. 

“Yes!” Aaron cheers, jumping up from the bench. 

You spin around with a grin that’s half shy, half ecstatic. “I did it!” 

Jack runs up to your legs. “You got a strike!” 

You pretend to give him a karate chop. “Boosh! Double strike.” You grin as Aaron sizes up the pins down the long ally. “Think your dad can get one before we run out of turns?” 

“No!” Jack laughs. 

You laugh at his easy answer. His father, determined now in the face of your disbelief, picks up a number twelve ball and stands at the arrows to take his last turn. You brace your hands on Jack’s shoulders and wait for the line to be put down again. 

You’re pretty sure he’s throwing his turns to let Jack win. You’d not done the same until you realised the yawning gap in the scores, and maybe you’d feel embarrassed for not noticing if Aaron ever made you feel bad for anything, but he doesn’t. 

Your phone rings as he pulls back his arm. You ignore it. “Good luck, dad!” Jack says under your hands. 

It’s that good luck that gives Aaron his strike. You cheer with Jack as the ball glides straight into the first pin and veers on a spin toward the third, creating a wave of noise and action as the pins go flying back toward the baseboard. 

Aaron turns around with a huge smile. “Jack!” 

“You did it!” Jack cheers back. “Not first, but you did!” 

You grab your phone from your pocket. “Couldn’t let me have it, could you?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” Aaron picks Jack up from the floor to hold against his chest, pointing at the screen with love. “Look at that, buddy, you won! Can you see that? You got the most points!” Aaron kisses his cheek, high on happiness. “Wow!” 

You have two missed calls from Spencer. To Aaron’s begrudgement, you and Spencer are actually going steady. The first attraction didn’t fizzle, the dates turned to dating turned to exclusivity; Spencer Reid is your boyfriend, and he’s supposed to be taking you out to dinner in ten minutes. 

“Everything okay?” Aaron asks, creeping closer to you, Jack still in his arms. 

“It’s fine, he’s just running late.” You notice his small frown. “His mom’s doctor wanted to talk to him, that’s all.” 

“How late is he thinking?” 

The plan was you’d go bowling with your family and then meet Spencer outside to eat at the Chinese restaurant just across the parking lot, but it’s not seeming so sure now. 

“He said half an hour. I’m pretty hungry,” you say, “he’s gotta speak to a psychiatrist about something. I can’t eat though, right? That’s rude.” 

“That’s not rude, honey. You can’t help being hungry as much as he can’t help being late.” As you’d noticed his, he notices your small frown. “You can’t go hungry,” he says with a shrug, “so you’re gonna have to come and eat something, but Spencer can join us when he’s done.” 

“Right, because you’ll love that.” 

“I’ve been on more dates with him than you have.” 

You take Jack as he opens his arms toward you. “I forget. I always think of you as his boss, and not his teammate.” 

Aaron grabs Jack’s backpack off of the bench, and your empty cups off of the table to throw away. “I am his boss. Okay, Jack, what do you want for dinner? What sounds good?” 

You, Aaron and Jack leave the bowling alley and end up in the Italian restaurant opposite of your originally proposed restaurant. You carry Jack on your hip and text Spencer with your open hand, content to let Aaron guide you through what little foot traffic there is to your table. Aaron sits on one side of the booth with Jack, and you slide into the other side. 

Spencer’s texts are getting more and more convoluted. He says he’s sorry, and then he says he has to call someone else, and then he needs to talk to his mom. You nibble your fingernail. 

“You okay?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah, uh… Yes, everything’s fine.” 

“Is Spencer okay?” 

“I think he might cancel.” 

Aaron flattens his menu. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I think his mom is having a bad day…” 

“What else are you worried about?” 

Jack saves you for a moment, “Dad, can I have juice?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, I’ll get you juice. Apple juice?” 

Jack presses his cheek to Aaron’s arm, earning himself a hug. 

“Are you tired?” Aaron whispers. 

“No.” 

“Okay. Hey, there’s a table over there with some colouring pages and crayons, do you see that? Do you want to do some colouring?” 

“Can I go get some?” Jack asks. 

“Yes. Don’t bump into anybody, okay?” 

The table isn’t far enough to worry, but Aaron splits his attention between Jack and you fairly evenly, just a tad more worry following his son. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Aaron asks. 

“You don’t think Spencer would lie, do you?” you ask. 

“Lie about his mother? I doubt it very much.” 

You trust Aaron, and you trust Spencer too, but Aaron has earned that trust over years and years where Spencer has been gifted it. He hasn’t done anything to break it, but he hasn’t proved he should have it yet either. And really, truly, it isn’t actually about what you believe of Spencer. 

You feel a bit nauseous, but your brother is the best person in the world, so you tell him why without preamble, “I’m worried that he’s going to get sick of me.” 

“Why would he do that?” Aaron asks. 

You scratch at the menu beneath your hand rather than meet his eyes. Because you’re awful. That’s what your father instilled in you, and it’s what you’ve come to learn. Eventually, the people who love you get tired of you. Everyone except Aaron, and isn't that proof of something? He’s the only man good enough to pretend you’re someone worth caring about. 

If he could hear your thoughts he’d probably cry. It’s why you’ve struggle to tell him. 

You rub your thumb into the side of your index finger, feeling the texture of your skin. “I think people just do.” 

Jack returns quickly, with paper and a huge fist full of crayons, though there are four colours altogether. “Well,” Aaron says, helping Jack back into his seat, crayons rolling released from a small fist every which way, “I don't. And Jack doesn’t, Haley doesn’t. I see no reason why Spencer would feel that way.” 

“What don’t I do?” Jack asks, frowning at his dad. 

“You don’t think Aunt Y/N’s bad at bowling, do you?” 

“You’re great at bowling!” Jack's eyes go wide. “I’m gonna make us a photo, to remember. We got strikes!” 

You let your face fall into your hand as Aaron strokes hair up the side of Jack’s head. It’s a soothing thing to see, you know the soft touch of his hand well, having been petted and patted through a hundred different bad moments. 

Spencer probably isn’t lying about why he’s late, but he could be. You wouldn’t blame him. 

“She’s very good at bowling,” Aaron says, hugging Jack to his side. “And so many other things, that’s why we love her. Should we make a list?” 

He used to love doing that, too. 

Your father wasn’t a nice or kind man. Aaron doesn’t know how it escalated, only knows what happened to him, and how he’d come to see you and you’d burst into tears the second he asked how you were. 

If Aaron knew how bad it was at the time he would’ve forced you to leave, but you never told the whole truth. He assumed it to be a mixture of everything —school was awful, dad was worse, and you were more isolated than most. 

Make me a list, he’d say. 

The first time you didn’t get it. You were a teenager sitting on his couch, his wife in the kitchen, a weight on your chest. What for? 

A list of the stuff that’s bothering you. 

Do you need a list? you’d asked. He had a knack for knowing more than you could say. 

I think we should make one. 

You realise now it was a strategy to calm you down. If you could quantify the things that were depressing you, you could begin to understand it, and hopefully dismantle some of the bigger problems. It didn’t always work, but it didn’t matter. It made you feel better just to have you and Aaron on the same couch with a notebook and a number two pencil. Don’t see my brother enough, he’d written with a sad face. 

Brother, you’d thought with a secret joy. He’s your brother. 

Jack and Aaron make a list they won’t show you. You order drinks and then dinner, waiting for a phone call or a text back you don’t receive. It’s disheartening, and when your pasta arrives, you can barely eat. 

“Honey,” Aaron says, “why don’t you go call him? You can see if he’s alright.” 

You poke at a shell with a tightly gripped fork. “What if he doesn’t want me to call him? It sounds serious.” 

“Maybe that’s why you should call him. I think he’d appreciate it.” He looks like he wants to reach for you, but ultimately, he doesn’t. “Take a minute for yourself, if nothing else. Everything’s okay, I promise.” 

“Sorry.” 

“For what?” Jack asks. 

You smile regretfully. “I’m just feeling confused today, babe. What about you? Are you confused about where your mouth is?” you tease lightly. 

Aaron gasps a laugh and reaches over to wipe Jack down with a napkin as you slip from the booth. You take your phone, worrying that Aaron’s eyes are on your back as you pass by the host booth and back out onto the street. The breeze kisses your clammy skin. 

Why do you assume that no one really likes you? It’s difficult to comprehend. Your thumb hovers over Spencer’s contact photo, debating, and debating. Should you call him? He might be preoccupied, upset even, and what if you make it worse? But if you don’t call him, you can’t reassure yourself that you’re not in trouble. 

He answers on the third trill. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hey!” There’s a sound like something heavy has been put down. “Hey, I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be sorry!” you say immediately. “It’s okay. Are you okay?” 

Spencer’s voice is a little high and fast, but beside that, he has a nice tenor. When he’s calm and feeling up to it, alone at night with nothing else to do, he’ll read to you from one of his infinite books, his syllables catching and tripping over air as you rub your nose into his arm. 

“I’m fine! There was a mixup with some medication at the sanitarium and they realised my mom’s dose of one of her antipsychotics has been charted higher than she was really taking, so she’s been having a hard time, it’s a total mess but I think we have it figured out now. How was bowling?” 

“Spencer, are you sure it’s okay?” 

“It’s fine.” He laughs softly, not a hint of condescension or derision for you, but an emotion you can’t name. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“I mean, it’s fine if it’s not okay. I know you can’t help yourself sometimes, but you don’t have to tell me it’s fine if it’s not fine.” 

“Uh–” You cough around it. “No, it really is. You can’t help it. Family is important, right?” 

“It’s so important. Listen, where are you right now?” 

“I’m just standing outside of the Pasta Factory by the bowling alley. I tried to have dinner ‘cos I’m starving, but… I think I lost my appetite.” 

“What? Are you okay?” 

“I’m having one of those days, I guess?”

“What kind of day?” 

His voice is bouncing strangely, as though he’s talking near you. You pause, turning on your heel to look down the few stairs into the parking lot asphalt. 

Spencer’s walking up them, a bouquet of roses in his hands. 

“Hi,” you say, the phone still pressed to your ear. 

Spencer puts his away. “Hi. 

His hug is full, all-encompassing and warm as he wraps his arms around you, the bouquet a cacophony of crinkling against your shoulder. He smells like aftershave, his Tom Ford one with the woody tinge that has you pressing your nose into the top of his shoulder to just breathe. Your phone digs into his spine. He doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Hey,” he says softly, giving you a similar swaying, back and forth. “I’m sorry I’m late, I had to call them, but it wasn’t fair on you.” 

“Spencer,” you say, holding him tightly. “You’re my boyfriend.” 

“Don’t sound so unsure.” 

“No, but. We can be flexible, right?” 

“Of course we can, but I’m still sorry.” He peels back to smile at you, his eyes gently squinted. “So what’s wrong? What’s making it one of those days?” 

You can’t explain it to him. He likely doesn’t need you to. 

You’re expecting him to pull away —you’re in a public place and affection isn’t his usual expertise— but he doubles down. New boyfriend or not, this hug feels like it’s from somebody who’s loved you for years and years. 

“What’s making it a bad day?” he asks quietly. 

“I don’t know…” You rub your nose self indulgently against his shoulder. 

“Are you sure you have no appetite? Maybe that’s what it is? Stuff tends to feel bigger or more upsetting when we’re hungry because low blood sugar prompts your body to release more hormones that affect your cortisol level, and cortisol plays a big part in how your mind interprets your emotions.” Spencer pulls away, his hand sliding up your shoulder to hold you in place. He grins. “So I think you should still let me take you to dinner. Especially if you didn’t eat much.” 

Why would Spencer lie to you? you think, relieved. He wouldn’t. And the idea that he’s going to get sick of you, that’s rooted in bad lessons from a poor situation. It’s not a reflection on you. 

“We will,” you decide, “I just have to get my stuff. I left my bag, and Jack’s writing me a list.” 

“What list?” 

“A list of stuff I’m good at.” 

He doesn’t waver. “Really? Can I add stuff too?” You turn your nose up in an unsubtle prompting, satisfied when Spencer gives you a quick, smiling kiss. “Sorry,” he says, though his apology is distracted by a fond undertone, “I missed you.” 

You receive a few more gentle kisses for all your worries, and you begin to feel better. Spencer presses the roses into your hand and encourages you into the restaurant with his hand spread behind your back. 

[cottonlemonade]

Fake Dating Your Ex

word count: 2852 || avg. reading time: 12 mins.

pairing: University AU pining ex!Kenma x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff + angst

warnings: bullying

request: For a midnight snack I’ll get a 15 and 24 and go back to sleep with kenma please || fluffy-angsty, fake dating + jealousy, ex Kenma

“Question.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna ask yet.”

“Fine. What?”

“How would you, as a person… as a…. as a human person”, you shook your head for a moment but then decided to roll with it, “feel about accompanying another human person to an event?”

Your ex finally looked up from the console in his hands with profound confusion written all over his face.

“What?”

Bracing yourself you tried again, spelling it out this time, “Would you please come with me to my high school reunion?”

You expected him to frown, sure, but instead of the immediate shot down he asked, “Why?”

Not a No. Okay!

Pulling up a chair from the adjacent lunch table to sit down across from him, you used your hands in a nowhere near helpful fashion to explain, “I got invited and originally I said No because why would I want to go but then this girl who used to bully me-“

“Momoka.”, he added.

“Yes.”, you said in surprise, “Her. Anyway, she messaged me and asked if it’s because we broke up.”

“How would one correlate to the other?”

“Because while we were dating I may or may not have bragged pretty excessively about you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you were all over my social media for two years and well, now you’re not, so she was asking if we split up.”

“We did.”

You tried not to click your tongue, thinking any sass would lower the likelihood of him agreeing to play along. “I know, but I don’t want her to know. So I may or may not have kinda sorta said that we are doing better than ever and just because you gained so much more popularity that we are trying to keep it on the down low and”, you took a deep breath, “she said I should bring you then and I may or may not have said Yes.”

“Y/n.”, he groaned.

“I know, I know! But I will get you SlimeBlast2 and the new Counterforce if you just pretend to be my boyfriend for one more evening. We can even leave early!”, you offered, spurred on by the fact that he hadn’t yet simply gotten up and left, “You can say that you have a planned stream that night and be back home before you know it.”

He thought about it for a moment while he resumed his game.

“Why have a reunion three years out of high school anyway?”

You mimicked her voice. “Because she is moving to America with her doctor fiancé and wants to say goodbye to everyone before she leaves. - Tch.”

He paused the game again and regarded you with a studying look. You, on the other hand, were focused on kneading your chubby fingers and not meeting his gaze.

“When is it?”

“So this is what all that streamer money can get you, not bad, not bad.”, you said as you slid into the passenger seat of his new car. Kenma didn’t comment on that. Nor did he compliment your little black dress that had him do a minuscule double take the way it hugged you in all the right ways. You broke up six months ago and instead of wallowing in a dark room as you had done, Kenma chose retail therapy - to the extent that every other day another out-of-breath mail carrier was ringing his doorbell and handed him anything from new consoles to games to figurines and even a body pillow because, thanks to you, he was now incapable of sleeping without something soft and squishy in his arms. This car was one of those more recent purchases, an impulse that surged in him around the same time he watched you flirt with a TA. He also felt the forgotten price tag itch in the back of his black button-down and matching dress pants he wore tonight.

The drive to the venue was mostly silent due to a mixture of old comfort and new awkwardness. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you play with your fingers, twirl your hair, scratch at your neck, and chew your lip.

“No one forces you to go to this thing.”, he eventually said. His GPS announced that you’d arrive soon.

You stopped scrunching your dress, sighed, and looked out the window onto the well-lit row of restaurants and bars you were driving past.

“I know. Social pressure does, though.”

“You never really cared about what people thought.”

“Ha! Good one.”, you countered drily.

“I mean it.”

“You only think that because we didn’t know each other in high school. This devil-may-care attitude”, you gestured vaguely up and down yourself, “was carefully curated once I was finally free of these people.”

“So, why not just ignore the reunion and go do something fun?”

“You know, if you’re gonna keep being right and logical, this night is not gonna work.”

He smiled and rolled to a stop in the parking lot among many other cars.

“We can still leave.”

You scratched at your neck again. He reached out to grab and trap your ever-busy hand in his, laying it gently on the middle console. He waited.

“Yeah… maybe you’re-“

“Hey!”, a muffled call accompanied by knocking on your window cut you off. Outside stood one of your former classmates waving excitedly.

Kenma grimaced.

“Look who I found getting all cozy in the car!” The large private room in the restaurant was filled with a whole bunch of people you hoped to never see again. They sat on the floor around the long table, apparently a couple of drinks ahead already.

“Oh my god, Y/n! I can’t believe you came!” Momoka got up to greet you like an old friend. Her cheeks were pink and she was clearly not too steady on her feet.

“What’s this? - Is that a hickey?!”, she squealed with mock scandal, pointing at your neck.

Your hand shot up to cover the reddening mark.

“I-uh-“

“Yeah, I just… couldn’t help myself.”, Kenma said in a tone that wouldn’t convince anyone sober. Luckily no one was.

She turned to him and as if she’d known him for years she slurred, “Well if it isn’t Kodzuken! I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t think you were real. I mean, of course you’re real but what would you ever want with our Y/n, when you could have anyone!” She laughed and ushered you both to sit next to her.

“I’m so sorry.”, you whispered to Kenma while cups of sake were pushed into your empty hands.

“Tell me, because I’m dying to know”, Momoka said, leaning forward, “how did you two even meet?”

The handful of former classmates in your general vicinity stopped their conversations to listen.

Kenma and you looked at each other.

“We just met at uni.”, you shrugged and pulled a platter of food closer to have something to do.

“Oh come on, Y/n-chan, there’s gotta be more to it than that.”, Momoka playfully pushed your shoulder.

“It was our first day actually.”, Kenma said, “I was sitting in the cafeteria playing a game and she came up to me with her tray and asked if she could join me.”

You caught his eyes and smiled, touched that he remembered.

“Of course, you met over food. Our Y/n loooves to eat, doesn’t she?” Momoka giggled into her sake.

Unfortunately, your mouth was just full of maki roll.

Kenma frowned.

“So, Kodzuken - or should I call you Kenma? You’re probably so tired of people addressing you by your username. Like hello, I’m a human being, too! So Kenma, what is it like being a streamer? I, personally, love YouTube. I think if I hadn’t gotten engaged”, she raised her hand to show off her ring, “I would have also gone into streaming. It looks so fun. And you’re just playing games all day. I love playing games. You could say I’m a gamer girl myself.”, she laughed and brushed her hair behind her ear like she was confessing something embarrassing, “I have played Animal Crossing over 100 hours. I know it’s too much, but what can I say, you understand, right? Sometimes you can’t put a game down for months.”

“… right.”

When he didn’t answer as bright-eyed and infatuated as she hoped, she turned to you with a devious smile, “Our Y/n should definitely do some of those… uh eating shows! You know, the ones where they just eat ungodly amounts of food at once. She’d be so good at that. Honestly”, she chuckled behind her hand, “I could have sworn she was training for that in high school.”

“Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom.” You pushed your untouched sake further away, stood up, and walked quickly out of the room, sliding the door closed behind you. Muffled voices, cheers, and laughter could still be heard. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a few deep breaths. Slipping back into your shoes you walked over to a corner with an open window that looked over the quiet courtyard that was closed for guests because of the snow. What a horrendous idea to even come here. Why did you think it would be any different? People didn’t change. As soon as you were in the company of your bullies suddenly you turned back to the timid little fat girl that was pushed into cold showers with her uniform on, that was tripped in the hallways, hackled in class for a wrong answer. The girl that was pointed at whenever she ate something. It didn’t matter what it was.

Normal lunch? - What a glutton!

A homemade salad? - Who is she trying to impress? As if that is gonna do anything.

It was only in university that you found people who accepted you for who you were and not what you looked like. And Kenma had made you feel loved and wanted for the first time in your life. Until he didn’t. You vividly remembered the night you broke up with him. His genuine shock when you told him that just hanging out and watching him stream was not how you envisioned your relationship to be like. After over two years of dating, you realized that you wanted more than dry texts and being the one to initiate intimacy. Kenma was a great listener and didn’t rush you into anything. He let you grow on your own and was truly happy when he saw you smile. But it wasn’t enough. You didn’t regret breaking up with him. It was the right thing to do. But whenever you felt stressed or overwhelmed you did seek out his streams. His calming voice and deadpan comments still helped you truly relax. You wondered if he missed you too sometimes.

“You’re gonna catch a cold.”, Kenma said behind you.

“Hey.”, you sighed, “Sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Don’t worry.” He came to stand next to you, close so that his arm was touching yours for a sliver of warmth. You both watched the snow fall for a moment.

“You really toned down just how obnoxious those people are.”, he noted, “I understand that you’re upset.”

“Oh, I am not upset. I am way past upset. I’m freaking miffed, that’s what I am.”

He gave a playful gasp. “Damn, not the m-word. - By the way, that girl hit on me the second you left the room.”

“Oh god, really?”, you scoffed.

“Yeah, apparently I’m on her list.” He put the last word in air quotes. “Like she can sleep with me and her fiancé would be fine with it.”

“Wooow, congratulations. Doesn’t that make you feel extra special.”, you said sarcastically.

“Absolutely.”

“Truly the bedrock of any good and healthy relationship.”

He chuckled under his breath. “I know, right? As if I’d ever want anyone else when I have you.”

A pause followed in which you were trying to find covert ways to push your face in the snow to cool it down and Kenma regretted ever learning to speak.

“Listen…”, he said after a minute or so, “why don’t we get out of here? You made an appearance, proved I’m real and now you can go enjoy your night. Maybe… maybe we can head to your place, get some pizza, and watch a bunch of those trashy Christmas rom-coms? I know Netflix is flooded with them right now.”

You stared at him for a moment, then squinted suspiciously. “I’m gonna yell at the TV, you know that.”

He smiled and his eyes softened.

“I’m counting on it.”

You looked down at your arm that was still gently pressed against his, thinking.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go get your stuff then. - Here.”, he fished his keys from his pocket, “You can wait in the car, I won’t be long.”

You turned the keys over in your fingers as you watched him go, shaking your head in an attempt to smother the bubbling feelings in your chest. As you walked out towards the car, you tried to remember in what state you had left your living room when-

“Y/n?”

Very confused, you lifted your head and saw a young man standing a few meters away. He was maybe a head taller than you, broad shoulders were well hidden underneath a soft sweater and coat. Nothing about the man seemed familiar, not the glasses or the styled black hair. He must have noticed your confusion when he put a hand to his chest and said, “Izumo.”

Kenma was very glad that he wasn’t raised to be polite so he just gathered your purse, scarf, and jacket, said you both would be leaving, and closed the door behind him. Even though at most 20 minutes had passed since your arrival, it felt like you and he had stood by that window for hours watching the snow. He should tell you that he wasn’t over you.

He should tell you that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again if you’d give him another chance.

He would ask you to take him back.

His steps lengthened at the thought of being back at your place, cozy on the couch and having an absolute ball listening to you rip the movies to shreds. Pulling his puffy parka tightly around him he hurried in the direction of his car and saw you talking to someone. At first, he was worried it would be another bully but then you laughed. His steps slowed.

N…no! He was not about to lose his opportunity to get you back to some random hunk with a sleeper build. Picking up the pace again, he thought hard about what to do. What happened next was not one of his proudest moments. Kenma came to a halt next to you, lay your jacket over your shoulders, and said, “Here you go, babe.”

“Oh, hey, you’re Kodzuken!”, the guy said and had the audacity to give him a genuine smile, “I’m a big fan! I’m glad to see you two are doing well. I wondered if you might have broken up because you haven’t posted about him in a while, Y/n.”

You laughed nervously.

“No, nothing like that.”, Kenma said, and, developing a life of its own, his arm naturally wrapped around your waist, “Everything’s great.”

“That’s what I thought.”, the guy said brightly, his eyes flitting momentarily to the mark on your neck and to Kenma he added, slightly flustered now, “You got yourself a good one.”

“Did you want something?”

“I- uhm.”, Izumo blinked, perplexed, “No, just catching up. But I see you’re on your way out. Have a good night you two. And Y/n, we should totally have coffee.” Kenma pulled you closer to him. “You know, when you have the time.”

Very glad his much-practiced glare was still hitting the mark, Izumo bowed to both of you and went inside.

Once in the car, Kenma looked at you, mentally preparing himself for a scolding but found you smirking and nodding your head.

“What?”, he asked.

“Nothing just…. Didn't have you being jealous on my bingo card this year. Interesting.”, you clicked your tongue in amusement, “Very interesting.”

“I wasn’t j-“

You met his eyes and cocked your brow.

He mumbled something and turned to focus on his steering wheel so you wouldn’t see the hue of pink blooming in his cheeks.

“Izumo was bullied in high school, too.”, you explained, “So he was one of the few people I got along with. We weren’t ever super close or anything but I’m glad he seems to be doing well.”

“Oh. Well… okay then.”

“So no need to be jealous, babe.”, you echoed his tone with the last word perfectly.

His face felt even warmer.

“In my defense, he looked like he was about to ask you out.”

“Uh huh.”, you became, if possible, even more smug and clicked your seatbelt into place, “I mean, could you blame him?”

It was remarkable how quickly your confidence bounced back by simply watching Kenma squirm for an answer.

art: 8.amidori_RN on Twitter

a/n: thank you so much to the anon for this absolutely juicy request. I hope you enjoyed it! And thank you everyone for waiting 🌱🌟

[holybibly]

More food play, bunnies? You wanted it, now you get it. Unholy thoughts of the day, bunnies: The idea of serving a luxurious dinner on a naked, hot body has never sounded so appealing, especially when the main course comes with sweet, wet pussy for dessert. Or dirty, perverted idols Ateez discover the exciting, sexy experience of Nyotaimori during their schedule in Japan.

Nyotaimori - often referred to as "body sushi", is the Japanese practice of serving sashimi or sushi from the naked body of a woman. 

Yunho first heard about it from his friend the last time he was in Japan during a break between comebacks. His friend described it as the most vivid, hot, and incredibly sexual experience of his life. And incredibly expensive too. But as Minhyuk assured him, it was worth every damn penny, and he would definitely go back to this special restaurant again to get supplements. And Yunho thought about it seriously. He even did some research and watched some porn on the subject and some hentai videos, and he has to say that it turned him on so much so that he had to jerk off several times in a row to completely empty his balls and quench his need to fuck.

His dick was so hard and pulsating rhythmically as he watched several guys on the screen eating sushi and sashimi from the naked body of a pretty busty girl with a tiny, slime-stained pussy and then fucking her hard in all the tight, wet holes. They were pulling her onto their big cocks, after which they cum all over her body, covering her completely with their sperm. And fuck, now this sweet, haunting image is permanently lodged in his head. 

Of course, his friends weren't left out of Yunho's new dirty hobby. At first he only told Mingi about it, and, as usual, his best friend supported him enthusiastically, and soon they were both greedily glued to porn videos of this style. Gradually, it spread beyond the two of them, and soon the whole group was somehow drawn into Yunho's hot, perverse fantasy of nyotaimori and dirty gangbang.

It got to the point where all the boys unanimously decided that on their next trip to Japan, they would definitely visit this special restaurant that Minhyuk had recommended. And so Yunho found himself in the dark reception area of Deep Dive, one of the most modern and hyped places in Tokyo. And for good reason, as this restaurant offered not only a deep culinary immersion into a variety of exquisite tastes but also into the depths of various sexual practices.

"So, Mr. Jeong, do you have a preference for a host for your dinner?" The woman in front of him looks stunning, but so does the shark looking for its prey.

Yunho clutches the list of preferences that the other members have written down regarding the type of girl they would like to see on the table.

"Ahem..." He clears his throat before he speaks. His cheeks are slightly flushed, but the thought that he is about to make his dirty dream come true makes his dick tense. "We'd like someone juicy..." God, it sounds so stupid, and judging by the way the woman in front of him raises a questioning eyebrow, he is not the only one who thinks the same. So Yunho quickly corrects himself. "I mean with curves, big and heavy breasts, a fat ass, hips, but petite."

"Okay, I get it; continue." The lady encourages him, making notes in her notebook.

"If possible, we want a more submissive girl, maybe into pet play and daddy kink."

"We can give you exactly what you want. What about sexual practices? Do you have any preferences?"

Such a frank, dirty question should embarrass him even more, but instead Yunho's eyes darken and his voice becomes confident and hoarse.

"Voyeurism, size perversion, deep throat, spanking, spitting, objectification, possibly double penetration and squirt, plus of course fingering, cunnilingus, and other classic practices."

"Yes, I understand." She writes something on the notebook again and looks up at him. "Do you want to role play with coercion or are you more attracted to enthusiastic consent?"

"Enthusiastic consent, please. We want her to want it too. Maybe even too much." Yunho bites his lip and drums his fingers on his knee, either from nerves or excitement.

"You're in luck, Mr. Jung; one of our new girls is really into group sex; you'll love her." A dazzling smile appears on her lips, and she looks straight into Yunho's eyes as she begins to repeat his order loudly and clearly. "So, Friday night at eight o'clock, we're expecting Mr. Jeong Yunho, Park Seonghwa, Song Mingi, and Jung Wooyoung at private booth number 8 for a tasting dinner. On our part, we guarantee complete safety and anonymity of your data. The NDA file was sent to you in advance by email.

The menu consists of twelve starters and one main course, which will be served by Miss Y/N, who will also be your host for the evening. Dessert is included. You have chosen the full immersion experience with special services (which implies a full-fledged sex scene). The cost of your dinner is one hundred million yen. Will you confirm your order?" The lady pushed the ATM towards Yunho and batted her eyelashes cutely, waiting for the beep to inform her of a successful transaction.

Yunho nonchalantly swiped Hongjoong's black bank card at the terminal and pressed the confirm button. As soon as the machine made a cute "ding," the receptionist extended her hand across the table for Yunho to shake.

"I hope your Deep Dive experience is truly memorable, Mr. Jeong. See you on Friday."

[ghoularaki]

tw kidnapping, noncon, double penetration, slight body horror, virgin! choso

mahito doesn't like a lot of things, but for some reason he liked you. little, defenseless you. he was honestly shocked when he realized you could actual see him instead of just being an invisible gnat flying around you.

how cute you looked when you bumped into him, he had to have you. with no way to say no, mahito picked you up and brought you to where the other cursed spirits lived.

geto simply ignored him, used to his antics, but choso was oddly curious.

"who's that?" the usually reserved man asked.

mahito pulled you closer to him and squished your cheeks between his fingers despite your insistent squirming. "i brought a new toy."

you whimpered at the implicants of what he meant. with how he forced his already hard cock against your butt, you knew you weren't getting out of this unharmed.

the stitched curse picked up on choso's curiosity instantly. whenever mahito dragged in a different humans, choso usually followed geto's example and ignore him. he couldn't blame choso, you sure were pretty for a human.

"hey choso, why don't you join me. humans are so much fun when they are squirming from pleasure."

choso choked on his own spit, not knowing how to respond. his violet eyes stayed lock on your pitiful form. tears had already bubbled over and painted your puffy cheeks. mahito blatantly groped you over you clothes. grabby hands fondling one of your breasts and your hands tried to pried him away, but he was too strong for you.

off in his own little world, mahito pulled you away from choso and called over his shoulder, "suit yourself."

snapping out of it, choso quickly followed mahito to wherever he was taking you. it wasn't like he wanted to know what a naked girl looked like. no he definitely didn't care about that, he just wanted to make sure mahito didn't go too far.

on a raggedy couch, mahito sat you on his lap and impatiently ripped your shirt from your body along with your bra. choso stared at how your breasts bounced from the rough motion. your nipples pebbled from the cold air.

mahito shoved a hand down your pants and found your slit. you gasped at how he swirled your clit, pinched it between his rough fingers.

"don't just stand there. help me take off her clothes," mahito called from over your shoulder.

you sobbed hard. he licked from your chin up your cheek to drink up your delicious tears. from his slimy tongue, you flinched away in disgust.

"your repulsed face only turns me on more," mahito giggled into your ear and rutted up into you.

pulled from his stupor, choso stood above you and delicately released you from your shirt and bra with some struggle. throwing it somewhere into the room, choso then went your pants. ignoring how mahito still hand his hand down the garment, he unbuttoned and unzipped you free.

"w-wait, please!" you begged.

the half curse glanced at you with with tented brows. he didn't want to harm you, but he couldn't deny how his cock strained in his loose pants. so he pulled down your pants and panties, and watched as mahito continued to twiddle your bundle of nerves.

"which hole do you want?" mahito asked choso.

"huh?" choso looked at him, confused.

mahito cackled. "forgot you were virgin. you want her pussy or ass?"

"um, p-pussy?"

mahito hummed, "good choice, i did want to see how far i can stretch her out."

that made you kick up a fuss. you didn't want him anywhere near back there. he was going to break you if he did. plus you had no clue if you could take both at the same time. what did you get yourself into?

pulling his own pants down, mahito pressed a hand on your back so you were bent over, your ass on display. wasting no time, he tapped his cockhead against the tight, untouched hole.

"wait!" you screeched.

laughing at your misery, mahito tugged you back and forced his way into the rim of muscles. your vision went black as he went in with no lube or prep. your chest stuttered from your heaving breaths. he brought your chest to his chest and then tucked his hands under your knees to bring them to your chest. warmth filled your face as your cunt was put on display for the other man in the room.

mahito stood up with you still in his grasp. from the angle he went deep into you. he moaned into your ear as you clamped down on him.

"there, you can fuck her now too."

gulping, choso walked to where mahito bucked his hips into your ass. your cunt clenched around nothing and some slick dripped down to accommodate mahito splitting you open. taking his own cock out from his robes, he followed what he saw mahito do. his cock brushed against your clit until he brought it further down to catch your hole.

nervously, he pushed into you. your breath hitched as he bullied his way inside until the hilt. you were thoroughly filled to the brim. they were both too big.

choso moaned as mahito's thrust caused you to be fucked on his dick. grabbing your hips, choso sloppily pistoned into you. your hands scrambled to grab onto something and deciding on mahito's tensed forearms.

both men used you as nothing more than a fleshlight to chase their own pleasure. inside you, you felt mahito shift inside until his own cock became more ribbed. you whimpered in confusion.

"doesn't it feel nice?" he said in your ear before shoving his tongue inside. you winced and tried to hide your ear from him, but he only laughed. "you're so easy to tease. maybe i'll keep you."

when you clenched down from the scare, choso fucked harder into you. with a few more uncoordinated thrusts, he came deep in you. you cried at the warmth seeping into your gummy walls.

"not fair, i wanted to go first," mahito pouted.

when choso finally pulled from you, the other curse used the cum dripping down to thrust faster into you faster.

"hey, make yourself useful and play with her clit. i want to feel her cum on me."

"her... what?" choso asked, fascinated with his cum drooling from your used cunt.

"the little thing above her hole. touch it."

nodding, choso followed his instructions and shyly dragged a finger up to brush against your clit. when you moaned he took it as him touching the right spot. remembering what mahito did earlier, choso swirled your clit with two fingers to the rhythm of mahito's thrusts.

at the pleasure, you squirmed to get away from it but choso didn't stop. he liked as your own slick dribbled out. human women are fascinating.

when he experimented and pinched the puffy nerves, you came against your will. mahito soon came with you. shoving his cock all the way in past the limits, he made sure your ass swallowed all of his cum.

unable to do anything, you sagged against the curse and let your mind go blank.

still thrusting into you despite already cumming, mahito's cock grew bigger. nuzzling into your neck, he giggled, "yeah, you're definitely going to be my new favorite toy."

[darnell-la]

can i request older logan with reader who’s a crybaby… reader who cries over little things and older logan who can’t help but get hard and coddle her. wiping away tears during sex!!!

note: older Logan wouldn’t take y/n’s crying session seriously. Usually, they’d all be because of work, something he’s told her a thousand times he didn’t want her to do, so a part of him didn’t care. Instead, he loved how much she cried, taking advantage of it whenever he could.

———

“How was work today, Bub?” Logan asked, eyes glued to the newspaper he had picked up in front of the door earlier this morning. Y/n hadn’t said anything. She tried thinking of what exactly she should say, but he had spoken first.

“Bub? What up?” Logan asked, eyes looking over his reading glasses as she slipped off her shoes and hung her things up. “I-I — You know,” y/n said, but Logan in fact did not know.

“I know what?” He asked, setting his paper aside as he felt something wrong with her. “Work today — It was just exhausting,” she said as she went into the kitchen to grab a glass of any alcohol Logan bought for himself, and she drank occasionally.

“What happened?” Logan asked as she got up, listening closely to her story of the day. The more she talked, the more cracks he heard in her house.

“A-And the boss said maybe he’d fire me if I kept snapping back at the customers, but they always start it! Every day, it’s the same s-shit!”

“Baby, baby,” Logan said as he came up behind the young lady before she could pick up the glass she had just filled. “Don’t need you drinkin’ your problems away. It ain’t good for you,”

“I know, but — I just need something, Logan. This is so stressful,” she said as he turned her around to take a look at her face, and like he knew it, she was crying. Eyes glossy and puffy as always.

“Baby,” Logan tilted his head with a sigh, upset that she’s always stressed and taking in everything people say to her. He wished she could just move on with life, and stay happy with a big smile.

“Look at me, Bub,” Logan said as he lifted her head after she tried turning her head. “You need to relax — Stop letting these people get to your head,” Logan said as he wiped her tears.

“I know, but-“ y/n tried saying, but the man shushed her. “Don’t speak, Bub, just relax. And no drinking either,” Logan said as he moved the glass she filled to the side.

“You’re too pretty to be cryin’ all the time, baby,” Logan said as his faves nuzzled hers. “I-It’s just so much,” y/n cried as his hands rubbed her body, trying to calm her down a bit.

“I know, baby, and what did I tell you? Told you I’d take that easy lumberjack job, right? Get us double what an average human man could make workin’ for ‘em and put that money towards our cabin,” Logan reminded her.

“Baby, I don’t want you to work though,” y/n said as his hands tracked up her shirt. “And why can’t I? I’m the man, and you’re my pretty girl. I’m tired of being a housewife. That’s your job, or at least let me do it all. You can relax the rest of your pretty life,” Logan said in the crook of her neck.

“You’re gonna take my offer, bub. Ian askin,” Logan’s hand dug into her jeans to rub at her cunt until she squealed. “I-I don’t know,” she still cried, upset at herself for being this sensitive and also hit by the instant pleasure Logan was giving her.

“What did I say, baby? This ain’t askin,” Logan said before he ripped y/n’s jeans off of her. She gasped as he picked her up and placed her on the counter, spreading her legs as he pulled himself out of his jeans.

“You should be waitin’ at home for him to come back and give it up. Not the other way around, baby,”

Logan pushed into the weeping girl, making her hands fly up to grip shi shoulder. “Logan,” y/n sobbed, feeling his cock run through her walls in all of the right ways. He always made her forget why she cried in the first place.

“Ssh, baby — Just enjoy me. Cunts beggin’ for it,” Logan said as he cupped her face, wiping all of the tears that streamed down her face. “Mhm hmm,” he groaned as his free arm hooked under one of her legs to get a good new angle to pound her in.

“L-Lo,” y/n cried out, loving the way his body smacked against hers. “That’s it, baby — Let it all out,” Logan pulled her into his body, pounding so hard, that the countertop began shifting.

“Cry on my cock, baby — Look so good like this. So fuckin’ good,” Logan couldn’t lie as his eyes could barely stay open and tears still streamed from them. He was Jauch a crybaby, but his crybaby.

[mapis-putellas]

The little things

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 1475

Warnings: None? I don’t think

Summary: Alexia had never been the short one in a relationship before, and it wasn’t until she meets you does she realise just what she’d been missing out on.

Alexia knew she was taller than the average female. Not by much, admittedly. Maybe about two or so inches. But it was still enough for her to look down more than she does up when making conversation with somebody. She doesn't mind it. To be honest she'd never really known any different.

It was the same when it came to dating. She was always the taller one. The one who always, somehow, took on all the things a man would typically do in a heterosexual relationship. Open car doors. Be the big spoon. Took charge in the bedroom. It was never forced upon her. She was never made to do it. It was just something she did instinctively because she was always the taller one.

But, then she met you. Sweet, tentative, endearing you. At the time, you'd been a barista, and Alexia had come into to order her usual coffee before training. Your first interaction had been no more than a few words and a smile, but for the rest of the day, for whatever reason, you were all she could think about.

Your eyes. Your lips. The freckles on your face and the way you'd looked up and down before growing visibly red. Whether that be because you knew who she was, or something else entirely, she didn’t quite know. Nor did she think she’d ever have the guts to ask.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she'd gone back to the coffee shop after training and asked for your number. Her English hadn't been the greatest, and she was pretty sure she'd said a few words wrong, but you hadn't hesitated to agree and hand over your phone. You'd texted for a few days before settling on a specific day when both if you; or more specifically, Alexia, were free, and you both had agreed on an ice cream date.

It was only on the day of your arranged the date did Alexia realise a significant detail she may have missed out on. She didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed. Or why she hadn’t noticed, but there you were, stood in front of your car, looking way too attractive for your own good. And you were taller than her.

Not overly so, but enough for her to be the one to look up when having a conversation. The car door was opened for her. The hand was placed on the small of her back, and Alexia hadn't quite know what to do with herself when you'd ended the date by pulling her into your chest and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She doesn’t remember the last time someone had done that.

Your relationship had only grown from there. Several dates were had. Gentle, tentative kisses were shared. You'd met her friends, she'd met yours, and you'd grown especially close with Mapi. In just two short months together, Alexia been roped in to going on at least three double dates with Mapi and Ingrid.

It was weird, at first. Not necessarily the double dates. But just how well you’d fit into her little circle seemingly without any issues. Everyone loved you, and Alexia was close to doing so as well.

It wasn’t long after that, that she’d found out that your love language was physical touch, and typically for midfielder, that wasn't really her thing. She got hot too quickly. Her limbs would grow numb and she'd always somehow end up with hair in her mouth.

But with you, however, she found that she really didn't quite mind. Why? Because she was almost always the one being held. There was no sweating. No hair in her mouth. No numb limbs. In fact -and if you told anyone this she'd deny it- being held was quickly becoming one of her favourite things. Especially when you'd run your fingers through her hair and rest your hand on the bare skin of her back beneath her shirt.

It's where she found herself most days after particularly rough training sessions. Such as today, which had been particularly brutal. Everything ached, and whilst she normally doesn’t mind feeling that way, today it was different.

You were rambling about anything and everything as you held her to your chest, hands absentmindedly braiding her hair before undoing it and starting again. She feels each and every breath you take, eyes blinking heavily as she fights away sleep.

"-and can believe she said that? Like, understand her point of view I guess, but I don't think it was really necessary-"

Her understanding of English wasn't exactly a hundred percent. She knows that, and you did too, meaning you were normally extra careful when speaking to her making sure you were annunciating all your words. She doesn’t mind you doing that. In fact, more often than not, she appreciates it, especially because your understanding of Spanish was…questionable. But there were times, such as these, where she was grateful when you let go off your inhibitions and rambled to your hearts content, even when she didn’t have a clue what you were saying.

"-I full told her that too, and she still didn’t believe. One day, her actions will- oh-"

She was just moments away from succumbing to dreamland when you sit up beneath her without any warning, her eyes widening as she's forced upright leaving her straddling your lap. She’s a little disoriented, prompting you to rest your hands on either of her sides to keep her steady, your eyes wide as you stare up at her.

"Did I tell you that Mapi wants another double date? This Tuesday-"

She groans and falls against your shoulder. Mapi and her big mouth.

*

"I reach it myself, amor. I do not need help." Alexia grins as she watches you make your way over, bending down slightly and looping your arms beneath her behind. Her hands cup your cheeks, and you grin against her palms as you stand upright and bring her with you. You support her weight easily, something her previous partners were never able to do.

You bounce her up slightly, feeling the way her feet hook together just below your butt, "I know," you press a fond kiss to her chest. She was wearing a white, cropped tank top today, no bra, and you’ve lost count of just how many times you’d been caught staring. "But I like holding you. Humour me, okay?"

Alexia tilts her head to the side, the frown of confusion on her face so utterly adorable you couldn't help but kiss her again. Her cheeks flush visibly at the action, prompting you to do it again, and again, and again, until she gently stops you by cupping your face. "Qué? Humour...you?" She questions, the pads of her thumbs trailing over soft skin.

"Mhh," you nod, leaning into her touch. "It means indulge me. Let me help you, anyway." You explain, and Alexia hums in understanding as she releases your face.

"Bueno. You help." She accepts, allowing you to step close enough to the cabinet so she could now, way easier than before, reach for the cup she'd intended to grab moments prior. Once it was in her hands, you don't put her down like she expects. Instead, you release her with one hand, close the cupboard door before making your way over to the counter and setting her down on top it. 

You step between her parted legs, wrapping your arms around her toned waist as hers settle around your shoulders. In this position, both of you now more or less the same height, your chest becoming flush against Alexia's as her legs hook tightly around your waist. Your hands slip beneath her white tank top to rest against bare, tanned skin, fingertips trailing over the multitude of tattoos you knew were there.

She shudders at the feeling, and you couldn't help but smile as you tighten your arms around her and press your lips against the warm skin of her neck.

"Tu eres todo para mi."

Slowly but surely, you were learning Spanish, but it was entirely more difficult than you were anticipating. Still, you were able to understand the basics. Simple phrases much like much like the one she'd just spoken. You wrack your brain to figure out the appropriate response.

"S-siento lo mismo."

By the huff of amusement that escapes Alexia's lips, it was apparent that your diction could use a lot a work.

"Cariño..." she muses softly, cupping your your cheeks and pressing her lips against your forehead. It was an action she was never normally able to due not being able to reach, so she takes advantage of it and repeats the action several more times, earning herself an adorable flush.

"My girl." You smile, leaning into the affection. You didn't think you had ever adored anyone more.

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111

[toxicanonymity]

Hello sweet toxic! May I pretty please have an age gap fic or drabble with game version of Jackson Joel ( my favorite long and grey haired man )!

Maybe something where in the beginning Joel comes off as shy and nervous and sweet but once he and reader get together he’s got the nastiest fucking mouth she’s ever heard once he’s confident that she likes him as a love interest

parts

JOEL x f!READER | 1.8k

He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. "Tonight, ya can leave any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say..."

NOTES: Hi sweet nonnie ❤️ I watched some tlou 2 gameplay for this, so I hope it helped. Joel is quiet, then dom / dirty

WARNINGS: 18+ Age gap (Joel 60s/reader 20s-40s), objectification of reader, slutty descriptions of men as usual. Joel calls her "honey" and one time, "little girl" (condescending). Beginnings of D/s dynamic, no arrangement, no consummation. Joel holds out, a little grumpy/mean. talk of being owned. degradation, praise, body/pussy inspection.

He stood like a man who no one could bother. Stone cold and solid, with a face that always meant business. His clothes were rugged and worn-in like a cowboy, and the obscenity of his tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, from the back or the front.

The first time you became aware of him, it was from behind, and you did a double take. He ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his shoulder-length mane with his other hands on his hip. He was talking to Tommy, and when you heard his voice, the twang put you at ease. He sounded like a nice guy, nicer than he looked.

Your first time at the mess hall, he was kind enough to show you around. You took that as a go-ahead to follow him around anywhere. You began to watch him around Jackson. Not exactly stalking him, but you didn't have anyone else to latch onto. You learned where he went, and you happened to go there too. You were full of questions about how things worked. He always took it seriously. He was a good teacher and didn’t seem interested in anything but helping you when you wanted help.

He taught you how to ride a horse—he must not have noticed you arrived on one. Your loins buzzed as he demonstrated how to sit. His big hands on the reins and the horn were enough to make you wet, but the bulge of his jeans and the way it shifted as he started off at a slow walk. “Now look close, okay? See how I hold it?” You were looking very close.

He taught you how to shoot. Stood behind you and you never felt more safe than holding a pistol with his arms around yours, his chest against your back.

“Attagirl,” he said when you shot the glass bottle target. “Look at that,” he marveled.

To be fair, you weren’t (just) trying to get him in bed. You had lost your traveling party and you joined another one but you felt like the odd one out. It never felt like you had someone to look out for you, specifically you. You hadn’t felt the affection or encouragement of a big, capable man in a long time.

Still, there was no denying you had a crush on him. It felt like a shock that he didn’t have women following him around in droves, until you got to know him and found out he was pretty shy. He didnt't seem to have much interest in anything but practicalities and survival. He was sweet, but never crossed a line.

Even when you started crossing some yourself. He took you on an errand one day, and he was buckling in your seatbelt, and you stopped is hand. You put his hand on your thigh, and watched his face. He kept the same, composed expression, but he couldn’t hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. He left his hand there on your thigh for a moment, then pulled away without acknowledging your move. The time it took him to move his hand made you think he liked it there. It was as though he didn’t want to take it the wrong way, wasn't sure your intentions. He cleared his throat, finished buckling you in, and ran his hand over his smooth, gray hair. It was always so well-kept. You had to wonder what it’d look like first thing in the morning,

One night, at the tipsy bison, you came in by yourself in a short dress. He looked you up and down and gave you a curious look, but didn’t acknowledge you. He was talking to Tommy. Tommy craned his neck to get a look, raised his eyebrows, and gave you a nod before grinning at his brother and resuming their conversation. Tommy was hot, too, but he was taken. Otherwise you’d love to see him in nothing but that ponytail. You sat at the other end of the bar and Joel tried not to look at you, but Tommy gave you a wink.

Another night, you showed up to the mess hall too late for dinner, and he was on his way out. He lived close enough and offered to make you something at his place, no problem.

When you came inside, you took off your boots, he took your coat, and when he finished hanging it up, he looked back to see you in a thin, low cut shirt and no bra. His mouth hung open and you gave him a flirtatious smile, as though to say, what?

“Ya’ain’t cold, are ya?” He asked with a pink hue creeping up his neck. He rubbed his beard.

“No, are you?” You asked.

“No,” he muttered, then composed himself and went to the kitchen alone.

When he came to serve dinner, your eyes were on his jeans. The heft of his manhood was always apparent, but there seemed to have been some growth in the time since you’d been at his house. You leaned over the table as you ate your meal, and he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. It was a small, round table, and there wasn’t much of anywhere else to look. He looked at his meal as he ate. You looked at his forearms.

After he finished eating, he dabbed each corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it, dabbed his beard, and cleared his throat. Meanwhile, your foot nudged his ankle. His face darkened. Your foot moved up his pants, and reached the seat of his chair. He didn’t bat your foot away, but he didn’t look at you until your foot slid right up his thigh and gently nudged the hard bulge in his jeans.

His strong chest heaved, and he didn’t make a move, but his face was reddening as he cleaned his hands with the same napkin.

He looked up as he finished wiping his hands. “Think I’m your plaything, little girl?” He harshly smacked the cloth napkin down on the table, then his strong hand wrapped around your entire foot in his lap. His eyes darkened with a forward tilt of his head, and his voice took on an edge. “Or you tryin’ to be mine?”

You rubbed your lips together and looked at him fondly. He raised his eyebrow to prod for a response.

“Wanna be yours,” you answered matter-of-factly.

“You dunno what you want, girl.” He pushed your foot away, then adjusted himself.

When he stood up to take the dirty dishes, the silhouette in his jeans made you throb. He did the dishes, and when he was finished, he opened a beer.

He walked through the dining area on his way to the living room. “Still here,” he muttered, but didn’t stop to talk. He sat down on the sofa and turned on the radio, not inviting you to join him.

You joined him anyway.

You sat on the sofa, not too close, with your hands folded in your lap.

“You wanna know what it means to be mine?” Joel asked.

“Yes, please,” you answered.

“It means I own you,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’m yours.”

He looked at you skeptically. "I’ain’t agreed to own ya yet,” he clarified. "Ain't just something ya do. Takes work from both'a us."

"of course," you acknowledged.

“Gotta know it’s somethin’ ya really want, and if it is, we’ll agree on some rules, safe words and shit.”

“Okay,” you agreed excitedly.

He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. “Tonight, ya can leave any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say, okay?”

You nodded.

“But later on if ya *are* mine, you do what I say, when I say it.”

He was so serious and official about this, it sounded like he was briefing his men for some kind of operation.

“Okay” you agreed.

"so what's it mean to be mine?" He asked.

you shrugged. "You do what you want with me."

He nodded hesitantly.

“It means I take care'a ya, protect ya, and I own your body. it ain’t yours anymore,” he looked you up and down. “It’s mine,” he stated emphatically. “*if* I decide I want it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” You asked.

He blew out air through puffed cheeks as if there was a long list.

“Ain’t got patience for brats.”

”I can be good,” you promised.

”Ain’t got patience for tears either. Too distracting out here, still gotta focus on survivin'.'

You tried not to show your worry.

”Ain’t sure ya can handle it,” he admitted

"Ain’t lookin to break in some tight little pussy while she cries and bleeds, either.” he cocked an eyebrow at you, and grabbed the massive protrusion in his jeans. “This ain’t no joke, honey. I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“I’m not a virgin,” you insisted.

“Yeah? Well ya better fit four fingers 'fore ya 'spect me to try it."

“And I promise I’ll do what you say.”

Joel sighed. “Alright, take your clothes off.." He held up his hands to acknowledge your freedom "OR leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened”

You obediently stripped.

He took sips of his beer as he watched your body emerge from your clothes. “Alright,” he nodded. “Good girl.”

Once you were bare naked, he instructed you to turn around. You did just as he asked.

“God damn,” he whispered. “Now, c’mere.”

With him manspreading on the sofa, he made you stand between his knees and bend over.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

You hesitated.

“Don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You reached back and tried to do it with one hand, one finger on each side of the lips. “Like this?”

”Both hands, darlin’. “

You spread your pussy lips for him with both hands.

”Good girl,” he said. “Wide as ya can. Wanna see your parts if they’re gonna be mine.”

You pulled wider

He let out a low whistle. “Juicy little thing. Sure would like to use it...But I’m thinkin’ it might not fit, honey.”

“Why don’t you try it?” You asked.

You turned around and tried to straddle him. He visibly tensed. You reached for the bulge in his jeans.

He snatched your wrist to stop you. “You don’t get to touch me without askin’,” he admonished you. “Notice I didn’t touch you that whole time?”

Your face heated in shame, and his hand loosened. You got off of him.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? ‘

“I’ll think about it.”

Your eyes were tearing up.

“Ya did good, honey, it’s okay,” he promised. He picked up your clothes and helped dress you. “Just ain’t the kinda choice ya make on the fly. You gotta think about it too, okay?”

You finished getting dressed and nodded.

“I’ll think about it too,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he answered, rose to his feet, and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then he got your coat and opened the door. As you began to leave, he stopped you, “Hey,” he lowered his voice. “Ya got a beautiful body. Anyone’d be lucky to own it.”

---

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Thank you for reading 🖤🖤

[soobnny]

invisible string theory — yang jungwon. acquaintances to lovers. high school au. slice of life.

inspired by that one line from glue song, “you’ve been hiding in plain sight, then appeared” (2.6k words)

The problem with having 60 students per classroom is you were bound to make a stranger to at least thirty of them. And for someone who doesn’t talk much, it was like meeting half of your classmates for the first time every morning.

You kept close to your circle of friends, just like everyone else did, and kept in mind where to make eye contact when your homeroom teacher announces a group activity. You liked working with the same group of people, so you held a pretty stable and balanced routine at school. Always sitting at the same seat, always staying in the classroom with your packed lunch during break time, and always riding the same train home. 

Though, from time to time, a few anomalies would pose themselves to your perfectly lined scheduled—the rain always increased the time it would take to get to school, a predetermined group stands as a barrier between the people you know you work well with, and apparently Mr. Snuffles and his paws that had messed up your alarm clock. The culprit lays on your bed as you hurriedly rush around your room to get to school in time. You’re sure you could make it if the station followed the schedule of when the trains would depart. Preparing your lunch, however, would be impossible, and you would just have to stop by a convenience store before attending homeroom.

You disliked the canteen. Students lived off of crowds, an impossibly long line, and an even poorer selection of food than what you can find in a convenience store. It would take half of your break just to get food, and the rest of the half eating. It’s better when you can hold time in your hands in the classroom. 

Opening the door to the convenience store, it was almost a relief to find it almost empty, save for a few students who were probably either getting breakfast, lunch, or a snack. When it was your turn to have your meal checked out, it takes you about 10 seconds to realize you might’ve left your wallet at home. And it takes even faster to confirm when you rummage through your bag and come out empty-handed. 

Damn you, Mr. Snuffles. 

You realize you didn’t spare the time to double check your bag when your sister had borrowed it over the weekend and probably put some of your essentials out. 

Burden raced and dropped down your shoulders as you struggled to explain to the cashier if she could disregard scanning it in the first place. Though, you aren’t given ample time to get your thoughts across when money is handed to her from next to you. 

He looks familiar, the boy with the short and a little disheveled hair. It looks pretty, falling over his forehead, like he came off a 90s magazine. He gives you a look, enigmatic almost, though smiling as he puts his wallet back in his bag. 

“Thank you.” You spoke shyly, though he only grins, showing off his perfect white teeth.

“You’re (Name), right? I’m Jungwon, we’re in the same class.” 

So that’s why he looked familiar. The only thing you knew about him was that he had a dog, had introduced him on the first day of class with a photo. Everything else, you learned from those around you; he was smart, taking most of the offered advanced subjects, he had multiple senior friends whom he eats with at the canteen, and he was apparently a great dancer. 

“Ohh, I knew you looked familiar.” Your mouth parts in recognition. “Thanks again for saving my ass back there. My cat had messed up my alarm and I left my wallet so today’s just been a disaster so far.” You laugh a little at the tangent your schedule had gone off to. 

“You have a cat?” Jungwon’s eyes light up, and you instantly pull out your phone to show him a picture. “This is Mr. Snuffles.” 

“Mr. Snuffles.” He repeats softly, smiling down at your phone as he shows you his own lockscreen. 

“Now I feel inclined to introduce Maeumi.” 

“Your Maltese puppy, right?” He watches as you dip your head down to look at his phone, grin spread out prettily as you coo quietly. 

“How’d you know?” 

“You introduced him back during first day, I think.” Jungwon looks genuinely surprised that you remember, mouth dropping before he nods his head with the same soft smile on his lips. 

“Well, since we’re heading the same way, do you wanna walk together?” 

For an answer, you grin up at him and say a brisk “sure”, matching your footsteps with his as you walk up the stairs of your school together. 

Conversation flies easy with Jungwon, almost too easy as you talk for the entirety of the short walk to your classroom. You discuss about your poorly functioning lockers, your plans for the upcoming Christmas break, and complain alike about the multitude of projects assigned to you for the first half of the school year. 

“How’s your Biology project holding up?” The instant groan that leaves your lips triggers a laugh from Jungwon. Though, he should’ve been able to predict your reaction after previously just complaining about Ms. Hwang and her 20-page paper about cell division. 

“I swear my head’s gonna explode if I read one more article about mitosis and meiosis.” 

You whine as you walk through another flight of stairs, and his laughter continues to mix with your light-hearted complaints. 

“No, same. My eyes were falling out while I was working on page 12 yesterday.” Jungwon’s hand brushes against yours as a group of students run by you, pressing his shoulder against yours and holding out an arm to make sure they don’t bump into you. 

“Well, they look like they were in a hurry.” He only chuckles before peeling himself away from you. He gives you his full attention. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” You laugh, and he smiles at the confirmation. 

“I can’t believe this is the first time we’re actually talking.” There’s disbelief in his tone as he pushes the doors to your homeroom open. “This was fun.” 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow!”

“There’s really no need.”

The bell interrupts your conversation, and you walk to your respective seats just as your homeroom teacher slips into the classroom. 

+

You don’t meet Jungwon for another month.

After that conversation, you had both returned to the routines you had set for yourselves, and you go back to treating that day as a single anomaly in your perfectly curated schedule. Though, now you find your ears perk up at the slightest mention of his name. 

Similarly, Sunoo’s confused by his friend’s sudden interest when your name had slipped past his mouth. It was something Sunoo had said in the passing, you were simply a side character in the story he’s narrating, yet Jungwon seems to put an awful amount of attention to that part of his story.

“Are you even listening to me?” A whine leaves Sunoo’s lips.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you were in the same club as (Name).” 

“You know her?”

“Yeah… well not really. She’s my classmate, but we aren’t close.” 

“Sounds to me like you have a crush.” He smirks, taking a bite out of his lunch before looking at Jungwon with an accusing eye. 

“I do not have a crush. I was just asking!” Defensive. Just like he always is when he’s getting caught for lying. Jungwon knows better than to hide something from Sunoo. 

“I literally just said (Name) passed me a paintbrush and you’re acting like she’s the main character of my story which, by the way, is ME.” 

“I don’t have a crush.” Jungwon grumbles. 

“Look, there she is right now.” 

Jungwon’s head whips at an impossible rate, an impressive distance over time that Isaac Newton might as well have made a fourth law of motion. His head is craned, scanning over the cafeteria in search of you before a pin drops in his head and he turns back in shame at having been fooled by Kim Sunoo of all people. 

Sunoo laughs, and Jungwon drops his head on the cafeteria table in embarrassment. “Wipe that stupid smile off your face.” 

Though, despite Jungwon’s sudden interest, it still takes almost thirty days after your chance encounter for you to meet again at the same convenience store. It was another day to grab a small breakfast from the quaint store, and it looks like you had the same idea when the bell rings and Jungwon spots you already in line. 

“Do you mind if I could wait in line with you? It’s getting pretty long.” 

Your head turns at the sudden voice. Soft tones as always. 

“Jungwon, hi! Sure.” You allow him to stand with you in line, and he curiously peeks down at the meal in your hands. The same lunch bowl from a month ago. “Don’t you eat lunch in the classroom? Did Mr. Snuffles do something again?”

“You can say that.” You chuckle. It’s endearing that he remembers. 

And just like a month ago, you walk to class together. He waits for you by the door, only resuming his walk when you’ve caught up to him. “So the Biology paper?” 

His eyes flicker to you when you laugh.

“Almost done, finally.” 

“So, your head didn’t explode?”

“Thankfully not. I think I have Mr. Snuffles to thank for that. He enjoys just putting a paw on my hand as I work, though he is quite distracting. We even got him this little laptop toy so he’d stop stepping on mine.” 

Jungwon smiles. “I’ve read about that somewhere, how cats imitate what you do or somewhere along those lines.”

“Does Maeumi do anything silly like that?”

“Well, it might’ve actually been my fault.” He holds onto the paper bag with your meals, fiddling with the paper. “I thought it would be cool to teach him to get the newspaper by walking her to the door and giving her a treat when she’d carry it back. Long story short, one morning, I found every paper from the street.” 

You shake when you laugh, it’s something Jungwon has noticed. It’s breathy and full as you picture it in your head, and Jungwon brightens up at being able to make you laugh.

That morning, you learn of Jungwon’s own routine, just like you. Every morning, he walks to school and accompanies some kids from his neighborhood, dropping them off at the preschool before heading to school. It’s why he doesn’t have time to eat breakfast at home. He plays with Maeumi a little bit too, running around with her in the sun despite having just woken up. At school, he sits at the front and minds his own business, and he eats at the cafeteria to accompany his friends. It’s the only free time they share together.

It’s nice talking to him. You think it might be the first time in a while that you’re talking to someone outside your small circle, and it’s a little refreshing to be offered a fresh sight of the world around you. He thinks differently, the type of person that has something to offer for your personal growth, the type that casts a life-long impression.

So, as you near your classroom, your shoulders drop at having to say goodbye to him again.

You think it’ll take another thirty days to talk to him, but it turns out, as insane as Ms. Hwang is, you might owe a bit to her for pairing you and Jungwon up to do an errand for her. It’s something about the coming Science Camp your school holds, and the need to get signatures from a few teachers. You don’t know why she’s letting two high school students do her job for her, but you comply because you have no choice. 

“The school always plans disastrous events. I remember our Freshman day, when they let us play those games, that was a whole thing in itself.” You mumble, holding onto the piece of paper and scanning over the list of faculty offices you have to visit. So far, you’ve successfully gotten five signatures out of twelve.

“I remember that! I played in the balloon game, and I was partnered up with a girl. My friends did not stop teasing me for weeks.” 

“Wait, I played in the balloon game too.” You look up at him, eyes bright as you recall the memory.

“Don’t tell me.” 

“Were you wearing a black shirt?”

“I was! What the hell!” He pulls out his phone to look for a photo of that day, scrolling through his phone before shoving the screen to your face. “That’s me!” 

“Oh my god.” 

You lock your eyes to his, and the two of you fall in shared laughter at the chances. You would’ve guessed the possibility falls at less than 1% considering the amount of freshmen students at the time, and the thought that Jungwon had been tied to you by some invisible string on that day is something so enchanting. 

As if, since that day, you’d been tied together and were slowly inching closer and closer until this very moment years later. 

“I can’t believe it was you! My friends couldn’t let me catch a break when I caught you before you could fall face flat.” 

“Look, I’m not the most coordinated person. You put me in a game where people are out to pop the balloon tied around my ankle and you’re basically asking me to fall over my own feet.” 

“But we won, didn’t we? Wasn’t I a good protector?”

“You were alright.” You tease, and he gasps dramatically in response.

“Go ask for the rest of the signatures by yourself.”

“I was kidding! I was kidding! You were the greatest protector of them all, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” Jungwon smirks, though, he feels like he’s about to melt in a puddle. 

“That’s better.”

The rest of the time gathering signatures are spent in conversation and laughter. Jungwon would’ve hated staying behind to do more work, would’ve complained about it in the group chat with his friends, but he finds himself enjoying it because he’s with you. It would’ve been hell if it wasn’t with you. 

“I can’t believe we’ve talked more this past month than the last couple years.” You hold onto the straps of your backpack as you leave school together. The sun is starting to set, and the impatient moon peeks from afar. 

Jungwon is almost open-mouthed when the sun hits your face like that. When you look back at him because he’s suddenly falling behind, eyebrow lifted with a smile on your face. He’s sure you know your hypnotizing effect, and you still have the nerve to act oblivious about it. 

He takes a step closer. 

“Do you maybe wanna grab a bite? It’s getting late, and I’m a little hungry.” His words come out hitched, and he’s punching himself over the very obvious nervousness in his voice–as if the way he looks at you isn’t obvious enough to how he feels.

“I’d like that.”

A few months later, Jungwon would ask you to be his and Mr. Snuffles would get all the treats he could possibly want for altering the course of your routine and allowing you to bump into Jungwon. 

+ 

“Babe, you seriously need to stop leaving your wallet. I’m starting to think this is all a ploy so I’ll keep paying for your meals.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. 

“I was kidding. I may have lost a couple won, but I got you out of it.”

“Are you telling me I’m worth just a couple won?”

“What? No, wait! That’s not what I meant!”

[chrissv4mp]

♱ shoot your shot. . .

you never found any interest in sports. ever since you were a little kid, you never felt attracted to the idea of dribbling down a court or kicking a ball into a goal just for the feeling of fulfillment. but you never judged anyone who did.

especially not billie.

she was the star player—the one who carried the girls' varsity basketball team for the school, the one who was always making three-pointers and swiftly stealing the ball from the opposing team just to drive it all the way down the court and make the lay-up.

so, now, you found yourself sitting on the bleachers in the gym, watching as billie played with all of the boys who tried too hard and a couple of girls who were on junior varsity.

billie always played softer whenever she was going against the jv girls. you noticed that after your third time watching her play. it made your crush on her just that little bit stronger.

you were so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn't even heard the loud calls of your name or the sight of a basketball flying straight at you until it hit you square in the face, flinging your glasses off of your face and making you double over in pain.

"oh shit." you knew who was coming up to you almost immediately upon hearing her voice.

of course, billie was the first one to jog over and snatch your glasses off the dusty gym floor and kneel at your feet, reaching over to grab the basketball from under the bleachers before finally looking up at you.

"i'm so sorry, i should've run over to grab the ball instead of jus' standin' there like an idiot." billie apologizes, sighing softly as she holds out her hand for you to take the glasses.

your fingers brush against her palm during the exchange, and even that small interaction making your stomach flip.

"no, don't worry, i should've seen it com—" you stammer, but billie cuts you off before you can defend her.

"dude, your nose is bleeding like hell, don't try to defend me." billie scoffs, voice playful yet stern at the same time. she gets up from off her knee before passing the ball to one of the girls.

she grabs your hand before you can even process what's happening, her fingers interlacing in yours as she carefully leads you out into the hall and down to the restrooms.

billie grabs a few paper towels and rushes you into the girls' restroom, having you sit on the countertop between the two small sinks as she begins to dab at the blood dripping down your lips and chin before it gets to your clothes.

her actions are gentle, touch featherlight as she tilts your head back to slow the bleeding before she has you grab a few paper towels and hold them to your nose.

"pinch the bridge of your nose, it'll help to slow down the blood." billie instructs, voice soft and quiet as she watches you do as she says, eyes on yours.

she starts giggling softly after a few minutes of silence, and you're quick to tilt your head back down to see what she's laughing at. when you see that her eyes are on you, your face flushes red instantly.

her laughter only gets louder at your dumbfounded face, biting her lip so that she can speak without laughing, "no, no, i'm not laughing at you. jus'... it's funny that the first time we're alone together is when i gave you a bloody nose."

it's not supposed to be funny, but billie's laugh is contagious and you can't stop the smile that begins to curl on your lips. billie steps closer without even realizing, one of her hands coming to rest on your forearm when she doubles over in laughter.

"i would've never thought our star varisty player was such a goofball," you tease, sniffling and pulling back the bloody paper towel from your nose, noticing the blood is pretty much gone.

billie straightens up at your words, cocking an eyebrow and dropping her jaw in faux offense, "really? you're sayin' you thought i was boring?" billie scoffs, lips curling into a small smile.

you shrug at her words, a smug smirk still on your face, "well i wouldn't say boring. i think i thought you were like the boys, but hot. much hotter." you say quietly, your heart beating rapidly.

it seemed like the perfect time to shoot your shot—you just hoped it wasn't an airball, you knew she had standards.

billie's smirk grows wider at your flirty words, stepping closer, standing between your legs now as she looks up at you. she's careful not to go too far with her touches, her hands gently creeping up to grab your hands.

"y'know, i thought the same about you." she murmurs, eyes flicking down to your upturned lips, "but i'd add that i thought you were pretty, confident, and look crazy beautiful each time you go up on that stage to give your little speeches."

your cheeks flush even brighter, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering faster and faster. she was so close now, her face only inches away from yours.

"especially when you give me that sweet little smile of yours when you call my name to come up," billie adds, voice quiet now.

her feelings about you are clear now, and you can't help but lean even closer, "perks of being apart of leadership is we can call whoever we want for the games and activities."

"i guess now you know why you're always my first pick." you mutter before finally closing the—

"billie! dude, get your ass back on the court, we're getting our asses beat out here!"

guess you just have to take your time on the next shot.

LETTERS. this is lowkey bad, anyway here's this little trope that i love but can't write for the life of me 💔

TAGS. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @stonerfromlesbos @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @bambifemme @mybluebossanova @sturnsmia @moralesluvr @justtr @greenbttrflyy @natbelovasblog @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @meliciousmel13

[sepherinaspoppies]

Riding the Dragon

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ masterlist ✧₊⁺AO3 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ taglist

⟢summary: after a great dinner with Aemond, he decides to give you a ride on his motorcycle, a Dragon T6.

⟢pairing: Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader

⟢warnings: 18+, MDNI, public smut, pussy on bike, cum play?, reader getting off on Aemond's bike, some tiddy succin, mentions of p in v sex, I think that it?

⟢wc: 3,064

⟢notes: this is my first time writing in reader's pov? the whole 'you' kind of perspective. I apologize if it sucks ass, I wanted to try something different. And can y'all believe I wrote majority of this when I was ovulating? HAHA

“I had a really nice time tonight.” The man in front of you says with a content and flirtatious smile on his pretty chiseled face. 

Heat coats through your cheeks to the tip of your ears. Definitely not the effect of the two glasses of wine you’d drunk not too long ago. Wine hardly ever did a number on you to slightly fuddle your conscience. 

You give him a sheepish grin, scraping the tips of your heels against the pavement, shying away from the intensity that his eye holds. “Same here. I hope we can do this again sometime.”

His face contorts in a way that clearly indicates that the feeling is in fact very, mutual. “Mind if I take down your number?” He asks, pulling out the latest new Iphone from his pocket. You only engaged in conversation through the dating app both of you met in and you thought it seemed only fair to give him your number after weeks of meeting him.

He taps a few things on his screen before you’re met with a white screen with only your first name and birthday typed. It is then when you wonder how he came about on knowing your birthday, if you had ever mentioned it in your electrifying conversations either on the app or this date. Most likely the second option. 

You knew his name, well if you’d call it that, supplying you only his first initial. By his angelic looks, he was definitely of Valyrian descent. And you hate how much of a sucker you were for those blonde bitches. You knew he was in the last year of university, double majoring in political science and business here in the capital. You also knew he had a geriatric maine coon cat, Vhagar, who’d stuck with him since he was a child. 

But that was pretty much it. 

You nod, typing out the most critical information both of you needed in order to secure the second date. “Here you go,” you hand back his phone with such caution that causes his lips to quiver in a smirk. 

He leans forward, too forward in a way you feel his breath steadily fanning your face and the warmth that radiates through his chest. You don’t pull away as his head lowers, keeping your gaze steady with his, admiring the amethyst hue of his lone eye that twinkles against the low street lights. 

A snakes his hand around your hips, which normally you’d slap away if it was any other man. But he was different. A rare gentleman who bought you a single winter rose even when you were five minutes late, let you devour the fries off his plate, and hashed your steak without asking. 

You wanted him to kiss you and perhaps even more. 

You wouldn’t say no. If anything you’d whimper out a simple “please” if it came to that. 

However, just as you expect his lips, it doesn’t come. He pulls away with a lupine smirk on his face, waiting for a response to a question you did not hear.

You cough away the slight embarrassment, “What?” 

“I asked what your password was,” 

Before you process how he did it, you see him wave the gray screen of your phone around your face, waiting for the six digit code. 

Oh. 

“I got your number but you did not get mine and you’re gonna need it when I take you out to dinner again.” The blonde in front of you points out. 

True.

It almost feels too goofy revealing the code that multiple of your friends tease you for. Nevertheless, you stutter out the numbers: one, two, three, four, five, and six. 

You hear him dryly laugh, shaking his head side to side as he types out the three sets of numbers. “Mmm, you need a better password, darling. One might think you want your personal information stolen,” He teases. You shift your thighs to a close at the term of endearment, already feeling the slightest tingles in a place where you desired him the most. 

You make a sound of agreement making a mental note to change it later tonight. After he hands back your phone, he combs back the loose silvery hair out of his face into a neat bun that well flatters his face. “Take mine for example; it’s five, twenty-two, one-thirty. Easy to remember.” 

“Is that your cat’s birthday?” You questioned. 

“No. It’s the day we matched on Tinder.” 

You are lost for words. Not even you knew the exact date you matched with him, only knowing it was around a few weeks ago. Judging by your reaction, he knew what you were thinking. 

After a few more rounds of flirtatious conversations, you both decided to call it a night, waving each other goodnight as you watched as he sped up in a black, shiny Dragon T6, a vintage motorcycle that was the second most precious thing he owned. (The first being Vhagar). You’d be lying if that wasn’t one of the list of reasons why you swiped right. A tall Valyrian man, with long locks, that rode a motorcycle definitely modeled the countless dark romance books you’d spent hours reading. 

To your frustration, the price of Uber had doubled the amount you’d paid for hours ago. Not even Uber Share happened to be near your price range. For ten gold dragons, you could buy a week’s worth of groceries!

So you sighed, turning off your phone. Your usual bus was still in service and way cheaper than the ridiculous prices of Uber. And while it was too late to be out by yourself, it was a risk you were willing to take. 

As you rummage through your wallet for some copper coins, you hear a deep, rumbling sound of an engine revving up close to where you stand. 

It’s him. Braking his bike on the side of the road where you are. His expensive Lysene suit coat no longer hugged his body, wearing only a white dress shirt that was half unbuttoned, giving you an impeccable view of his perfectly rounded cleavage and the multiple hidden tattoos you didn’t know he had. 

“Hop in,” He says, pointing his head to the side. It was not a request but a demand. 

You tilt your head, unsure whether to say yes or no. “Is it safe?” You ask. His chest moves, seemingly laughing as he opens the visor of his helmet. “Of course it is. I’m a cautious driver, never had an accident and I don’t think I ever will. I made sure to drink water after a glass of wine, so I’m not under the influence.” 

He narrows his eye, observing the hesitation written throughout your face. He offers the spare helmet from his bag and hopes that it will coax the uneasiness. 

“If you’re so dubious about it then by all means the bike is yours to drive.” 

It’s your turn to laugh because the thought of you riding something of high value and rarity seemed absurd and silly. You were someone who did not have experience in driving in general whilst also being terrified of the narrow and steep roads of King’s Landing. 

But there was no humor in A’s eye. 

“You’re not serious are you?” 

He powers off the bike before he scoots back from his seat. “I am.” He eagerly pats the spot he has saved for you. 

“You do realize that this is a Dragon T6, right? They practically don’t make these anymore!” You gesture your hands around the expensive looking machine that was probably worth more than your left kidney. 

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms on his chest. “What’s your point?”

You scoff playfully, “My point is that manufacturers don’t make these anymore and if I crash it–”  

“–You should have a little more faith in yourself. Maybe this will come naturally to you but you’ll never know if you don’t try.” 

You can’t help but exhale in slight failure. This was a conversation you knew you couldn’t win with him. “Look, I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t feel comfortable doing but I happen to be a great teacher. And if you do crash I’ll buy another, they aren’t that expensive anyways.” The Valyrian man shrugs as if thousands, or hundred thousands of gold dragons were nothing. 

You mutter a “fine” under your breath which makes him all giddy with excitement and slides the helmet down your head. He double checks if it's secured before he lifts you to sit properly on his bike. 

“Or I have one or two things in mind of how you could repay me.” 

Every single piece of information he hurled your way was taken deep into your head. And you did your best to pay attention to it all under the sharp needles of nerves going through your spine. At some point he had given you little rubs up and down your back to soothe your nerves. The effect was anything but that, instead all you could think about was how his hands would feel against the bareness of your body.

Fuck. 

You tried to push those lewd thoughts away as he demonstrated the anatomy of the Dragon T6. The ignition was a little red switch right below the speedometer, whilst the clutch was on the left hand side and the accelerator in your right. The gear shift was something you had to get used to as it was not on your eye level but rather a small little lever near your foot. 

Once he feels you’ve gotten the grasp of how everything works it was time for the ultimate test. “Alright now we start. Are you ready?” He asked with an eager smile tugging his lips. 

No.

You nod your head, adjusting the mirrors to match your height. You feel the tips of his fingers lift and turn your chin towards him, “Use your words, darling.” There it was that name again that made you clutch your thighs together. You audibly gulp, “Y-yes I’m ready.”

“Good,” His hands squeeze at your hip bones to bring you closer to him. Your eyes widen almost comically to what you assume is his cock pressing insistently onto your ass. It was hard, and through the thin material of your dress you could feel it throbbing full of want and need. Gods, how will you ever focus now?

A brief image flashed through your mind of how much and what was packing underneath his undergarments. The length and thickness and how it would feel wrapped around your palm as you’d stroke him from base to tip, or the taste of him as you’d take him inside your mouth, or having his full length stuffed deep inside you as he fucked you dumb. 

Something tells you that he knows what you are thinking but neither of you speak about it. 

Finally, he takes your hands onto the handles of the clutch and the accelerator and you, being a step ahead, check if the gear is on neutral before you release the clutch and to your satisfaction it is. The blonde behind you smiles at you proudly like a teacher would to their student. 

“Now, you’re gonna slowly release the clutch and twist the accelerator slightly…there you go, good girl. You’re doing such a good job.” He coos at your ear. 

The beat of your heart raced almost out of your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement of a small accomplishment or the low timbre of his voice praising you but you welcomed it. 

With confidence you didn’t know you had, you decided to drive the rest of the way to your apartment without complications and took up every tip the man behind you advised. The cool air kissing your skin and the adrenaline wildly pumping through your veins, awoke something in you and slowly you began to comprehend why A loved riding. 

You had felt like a small bird taking its first flight through the skies. 

When you both reached the parking lot to your apartment, you returned his helmet and a small part lingering inside you did not want to let it go. You enjoyed it and the freedom it brought you.  

“That was so fun! I can’t believe it was that easy. Think I need to save me up for one of these,” You quipped patting the bike. 

He throws his head back to let out an amused laugh, “Or I can just give you this one,” A tone of nonchalant laced through his voice. 

You look at him baffled, “I was–” 

“–But first we need to get you your license before I–” 

“–Absolutely not, I was jesting.” You snipped, making him roll his eyes with a slight pout drawing out his lips.

“You’re stubborn and difficult, has anyone told you that?” You chortle thinking of the numerous times you’ve been called that. 

“Plenty of times but I reckon this won’t be the last.” 

He hums tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear, “I guess I have to fuck it out of you.”

You blink.

The hue of your cheeks increased tenfold, your feet and body became paralyzed to what he had just confessed. 

Had he just said that to shut you up? If so it worked. 

You didn’t know how to respond to something as bold as that and to your inclination you lowered your head but the blonde behind you couldn’t have that. You felt the tips of his fingers roughly grip your jaw to meet his gaze. The amethyst hue of his eye turned into a darker shade of violet as he eyed between your eyes then your lips. 

Every part of you screamed for him to kiss you or to do something to appease the longing. 

You instinctively parted your lips when his head began to dip towards your lips. The tip of his nose brushed delicately against your own then it slowly trailed to sniff at your neck, the sweet smell of spiced peaches. 

“Nyke jaelagon ao,” He whispered in his mother language. 

“Pār emagon issa,” You said before you mentally said ‘fuck it’ and knocked the wind out of him with a kiss. 

He lets out a mix between a growl and a groan as he feels your wandering hands tugging the roots of his hair. Something you yearned to do ever since you saw how long and silky his hair was. 

And Gods did it meet your expectations. 

His lips moved against yours most ardently and with equal fervor. It was hungry and needy the way your teeth clashed with his, tongues dancing for dominance until you hissed when he bit your lower lip. 

You melted into his warm embrace, deciding to tease him by rubbing your palm on his clothed length, detecting a damp patch. You shot your eyes open, separating away your lips. 

“Did you just cum?” You panted heavily. 

A smirked, “I came when you first got on the bike and I was about to cum right now.” 

You quirked a brow, “That’s what did it for you?” Redness coated his cheeks and before you knew it his lips were on you again and his hands lifted the hem of your dress, exposing the black lacy panties you wore just for him. 

“Incase you get lucky,” Your best friend Sara teased just the day before when you and her took a shopping trip to a Lysene lingerie store. 

Through some imaginary telepathic communication, you thanked Sara. 

He groaned feeling the wetness that gathered through your folds. You weren’t just wet, you were dripping like honey on a hot summer’s day. A mischievous idea popped into his mind, something so lewd that made the head of his cock twitch with excitement. 

You squealed as he swiftly turned you around and twisted the ignition switch on. Was he going to make you drive in this state? 

“Move your panties to the side.” He commanded behind you. 

You pushed away the curiosity and did what he bid you to do. “Good girl. Now lean forward a bit.” You shifted yourself forward until you could feel the warm metal of his seat pressing tenaciously at your bare cunt. 

A gasp turned into drawn out moans as the blonde behind you revved the accelerator at a speed that made stars appear in your eyes. It felt good, so obscenely good that all thoughts about being in a public setting flew right over your head. 

You began to grind yourself with the vibrations, creating as much friction to your bud as you could. 

“That’s it, darling,” He encouraged behind you, increasing power to the accelerator just enough for your arousal to coat his bike. “Fuck yourself on my Dragon.” 

You clenched around nothing, whining as you felt the pure waves of ecstasy slithering down your spine. It was unlike anything you ever felt, not even the vibrator you owned made you topple over the edge.

In ten seconds or less, you loudly moaned, not caring who heard or saw you, as your legs shaked and the coil around your stomach loosened, cumming absolutely hard. 

Your limbs felt entirely spent as if you ran three laps around Rhaenys’ hill. 

“Mmm, do not get too comfortable, now, darling.” He boasted smugly as his fingers scoop your honey to his lips, humming at the delicious taste. “I haven’t even fucked you senseless yet and after witnessing this I want nothing more but to ruin your ability to walk straight for week.” 

A low whine escaped your lips at the thought of him roughly taking you. “Is that what you want?” He questioned, lowering the straps of your dress to expose your breasts to his gaze. 

You sighed contently, feeling his tongue enclosing around your perk nipple. “Yes please,” You tenderly loop your fingers through his hair. 

“I promise I will never make you beg,” He murmurs against your breast, “But you sound so pretty when you do.” 

He had kept true to his word as he not only bent you over his bike as he fucked you raw, but took you three more rounds on your couch, bed and shower until you absolutely passed out in his arms. And for the rest of the week you couldn’t walk straight without limping. Thanks to Aemond Targaryen. 

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost @tofujiji @saturnssrings @janeety @thought--bubble @theunburt @mandiiblanche @iamkookiesforyou @jeben196 @just-a-harmless-patato @moneypriestess @ladymoon666 @angelinap09

empty is who I couldn't tag sowwy besties.

[luveline]

Feeling a bit emotional and would really appreciate something short but sweet with Steve telling reader he's proud of them.

You’ve been through a lot. It’s not nice to hear about all the bad things that have happened to you, how people have been cruel, or how you’ve been alone, but Steve is grateful to get to know these things about you. He feels entrusted with something very important whenever you retell a bad memory; he can keep it, help carry it, take some of the weight from your burdened levy. 

He’s happy to do it, even in the moments where you forget all that stuff. 

“You did,” you insist, face pressed into the couch, a tired hand to his cheek as you stroke your smooth nail up and down his skin. It tickles badly. He never wants you to stop. “Steve, you knocked him on his ass. He had bruises.” 

“I don’t remember,” he lies. He smashed into Dustin so hard during a game of baseball the poor younger boy didn’t wanna play, and Steve was very sorry for the bruise he got to the coccyx afterward. 

“No, you wouldn’t remember. That’s convenient.” You’re just teasing, caressing his face, in a world of your own that Steve gets to be in too when he’s lucky. 

He thinks everything of you —you’re so sweet, so kind. Even now you’re lamenting that Dustin got bad bruises and tapping up to the corner of his eye with your fingertip, gentle, loving. He wonders how someone who’s experienced the hardship that you have would be able to just walk it off, but then he remembers you don’t walk it off. You carry it. You’re carrying it as you speak, and you're smiling at him. 

You’re Steve’s best friend, his great love, all the heartfelt junk. 

“I felt bad,” he says with a little laugh. “Does that make it better? I did feel bad. He hit the floor so hard.”

“Your laugh makes me feel like you don’t have enough remorse.” 

“I’m super remorseful.” 

Your fingertips slide into the hair just atop his ear, and you start the motions of a small scalp massage. 

“You’re–” Steve searches for the right word. Skirts around sincerity, and doubles back when nothing else conveys what he means. “You’re pretty amazing.” 

“And amazingly pretty,” you murmur, tucking hair behind his ear and pulling it out again as you scratch his scalp, a repetitive motion. 

“I don’t tell you enough.” He slips down in his seat to be the same height as you, catching an eyeful of your soft jaw, your lips, every inch of you kissable.  

“That’s not the sort of thing you have to tell me,” you say. 

There’s some awkwardness there. He really should tell you more. “I’m serious. You’re amazing, you’re so kind. Everything that’s happened to you, and you’re unstoppable.” 

He’s aggrandising, a little, to get through it without sounding like a too sincere idiot, but then he notices your expression shift at his tone and decides he can’t do that to you, because he’s not joking. He clears his throat. 

“I didn’t have much to do with it, but I’m proud of you for everything. You’re a good person, and you didn’t have to be.” He holds your elbow to pause your ministrations against his scalp, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently, though he stays there, and his nose draws a line down to your lips.

You breathe in without saying anything. 

“…You’re proud of me?” you ask under your breath. 

Maybe it’s weird, but he is. “I just think you could’ve turned into, like, a huge dick. But you’re you.” He puts all the weight on it. “You’re amazing.” 

Your hand falls to his arm. “You think so?” 

“Of course I do.” He steals a soft kiss before he puts his cheek beside yours, expecting your hug before you give it. 

You wrap him up like a pretzel. “Why are you saying this to me?” you ask worriedly. 

“I just want you to know. I’m always proud of you, and I don’t know if I ever said it out loud. I think it’s– it’s hard to get hurt so much and get up again, but you do.” 

“I guess you’d know about that,” you say, curling into him. Your hug is without stress nor worry, just a want to be close to him, your voice laden with warmth. “We keep getting beat up. Maybe that’s why we’re good together.” 

“And another hundred different reasons,” he says pointedly. 

“Thousand reasons,” you correct yourself. “Thanks for thinking about me, baby.” 

With the way you say baby, Steve will be thinking of you for the rest of his life. “Can I rub your back?” he asks. It’s your turn for some affection. 

“Oh, no, please don’t rub my back, you know I hate that,” you say, sarcastic mumbling as you stretch against his chest. 

Steve hooks you against him. “I know. I’m the worst.” 

[meliciousmel13]

: ̗̀➛ lotus eater

did you figure it out?? : ̗̀➛ who's the mystery now?

based on this song by FINNEAS, since the new album came out and i love it!!

warnings: fluff, smut, eating out (r receiving).

wc: 2,534 - kinda long but let me cook

SYNOPSIS: you hate her. don't you? it's just a coincidence isn't it?? madison was being nice for some reason.

taglist: @guysimgay164, @madisonbeerssecretwife @bandanamatt

an: :)) for the people who voted for madison smut in my poll since i think you guys are a little deprived. if your looking forward to the billie one it's in the makes! this was in my drafts since before the poll.

you and madison were enemy’s. everyone knew. nobody wanted to get involved and nobody wanted to touch you. why? because the last boy you had the fortune to talk to (who was nice), went missing. or, was avoiding you for a reason you didn’t know.

you knew nothing about her. all you knew was that she was a kind and sweet girl. you saw her interviews. you didn’t want to. but the fact that her music was kind of good and she was kind of pretty. led you to watching one of her interviews. you didn’t want to admit it but she was kind of funny.

you were at an award show now and you found your seat just to be greeted with the woman you wanted to avoid. you were wondering if they sat you in the same table because they didn’t know? maybe they forgot?

you sat down, vexed. she glanced at you and continued talking with someone you didn’t know. you wanted to ask to change seats but you knew that the people who were actually in charge of the seating chart wanted you guys to either fight, or pretend to like each other.

you wanted to do none. you didn’t want to pretend. you didn’t even want to talk to the brunette. knowing that if you did, her snarky attitude would somehow come across as nice to some 47 year old asshole sitting behind a screen.

you cross your arms and lay back on the soft seat, looking around the venue until she spoke, “what are you doing here?” she asked, condescendingly, turning to you while her friend went off.

“this is my seat.” you answer. you didn’t want to talk to her. you thought if you paid her no mind then she wouldn’t talk to you. but no. she always had too much to say. couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“oh.. are you sure? did you double check?” she asked, again. you double checked. triple checked, quadruple checked. of course you did. why the hell would you wanna sit next to her?

“yes, i checked.” you scoffed.

“you don’t have to be so negative. this is good right?” you wanted to punch her.

no. it’s not good. “i guess.” you muttered, going back on yourself and actually talking to her.

the award show went great. besides the soft murmurs of an angry night. madison was commentating everything, saying the obvious and talking to you the whole night. you wanted to go home. get rid of her obnoxiously sweet voice in your ear and maybe eat a tub of ice cream.

but you didn’t get to enjoy the luxury which was your own bed because you had to go to the after party. your manager had everything ready. the short dress and—you were so tired. not physically. but because of the fact that someone was talking your ears off.

madison decided to stay in the same car as you. you didn’t even get to stare outside the window with some much needed alone time. she took your headphones off and wanted you to really listen to whatever she was saying.

you tilt your head back on the soft cushion of the chair and took deep breaths. the more she spoke the more your headache grew.

you open the door to the outside frantically, almost begging to feel the cold air on your skin. you did. but the flashing lights that invited you weren’t welcoming. home home home.

she took your hand and you wanted to pull away. the sight of cameras stopped you. but also because her hands were soft. if they belonged to another you would’ve been thrilled.

you walk through the large doors of the establishment and you finally pulled away as the security guards prevented photographers from entering and everyone else.

“why the fuck did you do that?” you asked angrily.

“what did i do?” she asked. and your frustration was through the roof. the squinting was making your headache worse and the bright lights too.

you groaned, loudly, she was so frustrating that if you spoke another word you might actually explode. she giggled. she fucking giggled. you were mad and she was laughing.

“are you seriously laughing?” you questioned, and she shook her head.

“s’ nothing,” she rolled her eyes,“we should head in now we might be late.” she said.

“who the hell is we?—” she took your wrist and dragged you inside.

you’ve never regretted your life choices more. this was way worse then the award show. here they had flashing bright colors and loud charlie xcx songs blasting through the speakers. madison pulled you to the drinks bar and you’ve grown tired of her dragging you around. but you continue to let her.

“uh, two cherry colas—” she said and you looked at her with a bewildered expression. a nonalcoholic drink. a nonalcoholic drink.

“no.” you interrupted.

“but—”

“no.” you crossed your arms, “i’ll have a Sex on the Beach. she can have a cherry coke.” you said to bartender and he nodded, getting ready to make your drinks.

“for the contrary, cherry colas are really good,” she said, and you nodded, rubbing your temples., “headache?” she asked. you nodded. “why would you drink alcohol then.” she rolled her eyes again and called the bartender. telling him to cancel your drink and opting to getting you water.

“here.” she breathed out, helping you sip out the glass cup until it was empty.

“why’re you being so nice to me?”

her expression changed. mouth slightly agape and it made you even more curious. the once cruel woman was suddenly helping you with your ever growing headache that she started. her eyes dart across the room to look at anything but you. avoiding your question.

she mumbled something you couldn’t hear, so you bring your face closer to hear her better but she groaned, “you always fucking do that—” she grabbed your wrist till her knuckles were white and led you to a janitors closet near the exit of the party.

“do what?—” you were cut off by her kissing you.

oh

oh, that’s what she meant. she tilted her head to kiss you better and you didn’t know what to do. you were confused. not knowing where to put your hands so you place them on her shoulders. her lips were soft. and she smelt like angles and fairy dust.

you wanted to let out a word, you wanted to push her away you wanted and wanted but you never did anything. you let her kiss down your neck and up your jaw you let her. she griped your hips tightly and traced the hem of your dress.

“madison—” you pull her head away from your neck by softly tugging her hair, and she groaned. as if being separated from you was equivalent to having her lollipop taken from her hands. was she crying? because you swore you saw tears in her eyes when you pulled her away.

her lip gloss was smudged on your neck and her mascara was ruined, some of it probably on your neck too, she was undoubtedly messy. “what?” she asked.

“talk to me.”

“are you stupid?” she said, and you flinched, “do you still not know why i pulled you in here? i mean— I’ve never seen someone as stupid as you.” you stayed silent, she pulled her hands away from your hips and you almost missed them. she sighed and paced around the small room.

“i like you.” then everything made sense. like the flood of questions in your mind were answered with three words. the reason no one approached you was because everyone knew she liked you? is that why you were sat next to each other? the reason the boy stopped talking to you was because she told him off?

“do you know how obvious i made it for you? like— i might as well be screaming i love you at this point—” she wanted you. she really really wanted you.

you initiated the kiss this time. you didn’t have to say it back she knew. you wanted her too.

the kiss quickly grew heated, the loud sighs and whimpers—mostly from you, because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, “madison.” you breathe out, knees going weak and without the support of her hands under your thighs you would’ve collapsed on the dirty floor.

“yeah?” her eyes darkened, the filthy noises—just saying her name that way was driving her insane.

“do something.” you said. the uncomfortable wetness in your underwear was growing the longer she looked at you that way, like she wanted to devour you whole.

she parted your legs and put her knee between them, removing her hands from your thighs and actually letting you sit on it. you quickly regained your composure and actually used your legs to stand.

“can i take this off?” she toyed with the hem of your dress. you didn’t know why she was asking.

“yes.” you answered, and she pulled the dress up above your hips—now crumpled on you waist. she looked at your underwear then your eyes, asking for conformation. you nod. and she pulled the black lacy underwear to the side.

you wore it for yourself, no one in peculiar but you don’t regret it because she griped the underwear so tightly you were scared it was going to rip. you tried helping her pull it down your legs but she refused. you looked too pretty. depending on her knee to stay up and mouth agape. so. fuckin’. pretty.

“ma—” you yelped when she removed her knee, quickly holding you up—she didn’t want her pretty girl to fall now. her pretty girl. you were hers.

she brushed her thumb on your clit and you bite your lip, one of her hands were on your hips holding you up and the other was dragging up and down on your heat, “you’re so wet.” she mumbled into your neck while sucking hickies onto it. your cheeks flush and your skin was sweaty because you were nervous but also because it was hot in here. you were wet. and she didn’t even do anything yet.

“tell me your mine.” she pulled away from your neck and rubbed harshly on your clit. you grip her shoulders tightly.

“m’ yours.” you whine when she legs go of her hand on your hips, you almost fall, but grab a hold of her leather jacket in time. desperately trying to wrap your legs around her waist but she doesn’t even help you, she just holds your chin and tilts it upwards.

“i can’t hear you.” her thumb on your clit slows down and you groan, the long acrylic nails were scratching on your jaw.

“i’m yours!” you half-scream, surprised no one barged in the room yet.

madison smiled, “that’s right baby.” she rasped out, and you had to hold back a moan at the name, “why’re you holding back?”

“because someone might come in.” you sigh and she bites her lower lip.

“you shouldn’t care about them, kay?” she sank to her knees, and you almost came, because she looked so good looking up at you, “can’ moan all you want baby.” oh god. she lifted your thigh on her shoulder and you arch your back.

she hummed while running her tongue up your pussy, her knees probably dying. she held your whole body up and you were curious how strong she actually was.

you moan, and she looked up at you, so focused on your taste she forgot to focus on you. “look at me.” she kissed and nipped at your thighs. you do, for a while but you gasp and cover your face once she brings your clit to her lips, “look at me, please.” she half begged.

you let out a small ‘mhph’ and pull your hand from your face, nothing was covering the pornographic look on your face now. you were panting, brows furrowed and a small drop of sweat rolling down your face. you tilted your head to see her better.

“fuck.” she moaned. you run your hands through her hair, gripping once she sucked harshly on your clit—ruining the hair that probably took over 4 people to do, she let you. and you’ve never had that much power before. you could ruin her if you wanted. and she would let you. because she loved you.

she desperately wanted to plunge her fingers deep inside you but her annoyingly long nails restricted her from doing so. they were cute and all, but her knees were killing her. she ignored the pain though, she’d do anything for you.

madison couldn’t breathe. all she could feel, smell and taste was you. she didn’t care though, if she could die between your thighs then she’d die happy. her cheeks were squeezed between them and you’ve never seen something so beautiful.

she tapped your thigh lightly and you part your legs, not wanting to to cut off her breathing. you whimper and buck your hips to her mouth when she entered her tongue in you. she held your hips and you scratched at her scalp.

“m’ gonna cum.” you whimper, your entire upper body was a mess. hickies on the side of your neck and collar bones, some ever scattered above your breasts. even your lip stick was stained and out of place.

“yeah? gonna cum f’ me?” she asked, digging crescent moons into your thighs from how she was gripping it. she raspy voice sent vibrations up your pussy, and you pushed her face even closer, she didn’t stop you though, she enjoyed it.

madison pushed down your lower stomach and dug her tongue even deeper, “oh— fuck, madison.” you moan, feeling madison hum, and that pushed you over the edge. squirting all over her face. she licked up every drop. feeling over simulated, you push her away from her head, “can’t.” you breathe out.

“good?” she said, you nodded and madison stood up stumbling, “are your knees okay?” you asked, concerned.

“yeah i’m fine,” she fixed her hair, smoothing it back and fixing her clothes, “come here.” she took your hips and pulled you closer, helping put your panties back in place and your dress down your thighs.

“thank you.” you mumble, while she wiped the smudged lipstick across your mouth and the lip gloss from your neck, “madison.” you laugh, seeing her lower face completely covered in arousal.

“what?” she asked innocently, like she didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life.

“your face.”

“what about it?” she licked her lips. messy eater.

after you both cleaned up, you came out of the janitors closet, getting weird looks from most people but you drag her outside and tell your driver to take you home. this time, with her.

“so,” she dug her hands into her jacket pockets, “what are we now?” she asked, hopeful.

you hum, pretending to think about it, madison groans, and you laugh, “i’m kidding! your my girlfriend right?” you ask, hopeful.

“yeah, your my girlfriend.”

[myboykillme]

Another fanfic! Thanks for all the support and everything. This scenario when Ray protected you from Double, and that was kind of hot. The readers anatomy is female in this, might make different things in the future. Minors don't interact, this is pure filth.

TW: mentions of blood, gore, worship, sexual intimacy

Smut under the cut, MDNI 18+

Blood and guts are spilled on the floor, and the smell of the room is thick with the metallic taste of gore. The people you used to consider friends are pieces of burned flesh and guts, their faces morphed into a bizarre offering to a deity. Red sticky substance was soaked into my skin, as I stared into his black void of an eye. He looked positively shaken, kneeling in front of me, looking at me expectantly. “Please forgive me my Star”

This man, the symbol of peace in America, is reduced to an afraid whimpering man. “I couldn't just let him do those things to you, if only you saw what I saw in his mind, he wanted to” My sharp gaze cut off his words, silencing his excuses. What scared me wasn't the bloodbath, I couldn't comprehend the blooming feeling in my lower stomach. Could this be… blood lust? “I'm begging you, look at me please, I don't what to do please, your mind is…blank”

Ray gently held my face and turned my head to make me face him. A breathtaking sight greeted me when I finally faced him, the red from his violent acts made him look ethereal, truly a being from beyond the stars. I wanted to attack him right here and there, a primal urge to fight or flight coming to me, but also a feeling of possessiveness. He killed them for me, he lives for me, he's only for me.

I could only focus on the adrenaline rushing to my head, a euphoric warmth spreading through my veins. Grabbing his collar, I pulled him up from his kneeling position, and before he could question me, I kissed him. My mind felt hazy, as I tasted his obsession and blood at the same time. Ray's hands quickly found the small of my back, making me flush against him, making me extremely aware of the growing hotness inside my body.

I imagine his body must have felt the same, as his tongue danced with mine, deliciously sloppy. We pulled away simultaneously, panting from the rush of it all. His eyes looked even darker than before, his pretty face flushed red with desire, truly a mess he made for me. The sound of his belt unbuckling brought me back to reality, his eyes flickered to my flushed state as he grabbed me by my hair and brought me down onto my knees.

The filth of the guts could barely compare to the one that was in my mind when I came face to face with his bulge, I instantly touched it, nuzzling my face against it. Ray only smirked at my eagerness, seeing his dark goddess on the floor of blood innocently rubbing her face against his rock-hard cock. My hands worked quickly as I freed him further from the confines of his pants. A huge cock oozing with precum slapped my face, as I gasped in surprise.

My body felt even hotter as I imagined what this would feel inside my mouth, going down my throat as I struggled to breathe. “Be good to me and open your mouth” He petted my head and spoke with a low grumble, but that's not what made me comply. Those dark pools of eyes he has held so much adoration, a cocktail of lust and obsession, they seemed to see right into my soul. Without further thought I opened my mouth, slowly taking his dick further and further.

I felt disgusted getting off to this, but maybe I was always sick, rotten to my core and he just brought it out. Ray didn't spare me any mercy, as his fingers gripped my hair, forcing me down to the base. A shiver ran down my spine, making me even wetter, and messier. The feeling of his cock hitting the back off of my throat was phenomenal, it hurt but God did it make me feel submissive. Being under his gaze, with his cock getting shown down my throat is who I am meant to be, kneeling in a pool of guts, taking everything he gives me.

“Fuck, you look amazing goddess” Ray's voice was a low grumble, it made me even more eager. My nails dug into his thighs as I took what he gave me. I desperately wanted to touch myself but I had to focus on his pleasure, serving him gave me a sense of purpose.

“Get up now” Ray's command snapped me out of my lustful daze. I reluctantly pulled my mouth off his throbbing cock, strings of saliva connecting my lips to his thick shaft.

Gasping for air, I looked up at him with hazy, desire-filled eyes. He grabbed my arms and hauled me up, my body pressing flush against his surprisingly muscular frame. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins from the violence he had unleashed. He spun me around and bent me over one of the blood-stained tables, the cold metal pressing against my heated skin.

The contrast made me shiver, my nipples hardening beneath my black lace bra. Ray kicked my legs apart pulling my skirt and panties off in a swift motion. My head felt dizzy as he spread my pussy wide as he positioned himself behind me. I could feel his hard cock, slick with my spit and his precum, prodding against my ass.

"You're sick, just like me," he growled, his voice rough with lust at my state. "I need to claim you, make you mine completely." Ray's calloused hand went under my shirt, cupping my breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, then pulled on them, making me let out a surprising moan from the pain. I arched my back, instinctively grinding my ass further against his crotch, silently begging him to take me.

"Please… I need it" I whimpered shamefully, still smelling the gore, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heartbeat. "Fuck me, use me, ruin me for anyone else." His dark chuckle made me feel even more pitiful, he was amused by my desperate pleas. "Don't worry goddess, I will take good care of you." That's when I felt the sharp sting of his hand on my ass, making me seek out even more friction.

My breathing was getting harder and harder, then he slapped my ass again, even harder this time. A sharp scream came out of me, as tears threatened to spill out of my eyes, he's strong. The sting was soon soothed by the thick head of his cock pushing against my entrance, teasing me, making me crazy with need. I tried to push back against him, to force him inside, but he held my hips still, controlling me completely.

"Beg for it, " he said in an amused voice, with an edge of dominance. "You wanna be fucked, don't you? Hmmm~" His fingers massaging the flesh of my ass, admiring the two reddening hand prints. I opened my mouth to do just that, to beg him to fuck me, to ruin me, to claim me... but my words were cut off by a loud, wanton moan as he slammed his thick cock deep inside my tight cunt. He stretched me wide, filling me completely, hitting depths I didn't know I had.

"Mercy!" I cried out, my pussy clenching around him, trying to adjust to his size. He was so big, so hard, and he felt incredible inside me. His pace started slow but hard, letting my body commit his shape into memory. Despite that, the table shook beneath us, the legs scraping against the blood-stained floor. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, combined with the sound of the table moving, it sounded like an execution, maybe it was…

"This is what I've been dreaming of," His voice shook, full of devotion as he took me as an offering, his fingers digging into my hips as he fucked me harder, deeper. "Your cunt was made for me to abuse." Hazy pleasure clouded my mind, I couldn't focus on his words, and I didn't feel like I was there from the intensity. Disgust filled my guts, along with fire, my orgasm was building, and my body tensed as I climbed closer and closer to the edge. "That's it, Goddess, let it happen….”

He pushed his fingers into my mouth, forcing my mouth open as he made me look at the blood and bodies he slaughtered for me. My body involuntarily shuddered at the sight, filling me with a strange sense of satisfaction. I felt a warm breath against my ear as he spoke, panting. “Never, you're never leaving me, you're mine” he panted maniacally in between words, “ I would do anything for you, Goddess I lo-”

My eyes rolled back into my head as an intense orgasm suddenly washed over me, I couldn't hear his rambling as he continued ramming his dick inside me. But the pleasure almost never stopped, the hot lava of overstimulation overtook my nerves. In a few seconds, it stopped, and Ray's hard and sloppy thrust filled my womb with his cum.

Laying on that cold table, covered in sweat, blood, and cum, I came to a sickening realization. This has awoken something: a dark twisted hunger inside me, insatiable…. And I knew, without a doubt, that I would never be the same again.