#you sent this a while back and i had to think very hard about how to respond

[carmenberzattosgf]

i know you’ve written about carmy and consenual choking before (loved that btw oh my goodess) but i saw this thing on one of those character nsfw alphabets and i cant remember who’s it was for the life of me but they had a thing about carmy like wrapping his arm around readers neck from behind during boombayahing and its stuck in my head if you’re willing to write something with this (absolutely no pressure btw have a great day :)

Okay yes let’s talk about Carmy choking you with his bicep. I’m very passionate about this topic.

Fucking you from behind has never been Carmy’s favorite way to do it. He can’t see your pretty face, or see the way your mouth falls open when he hits that spot inside of you.

The first time the bicep choking thing happens, it’s completely on accident. Truly. It’s the rare time he has you face down on the bed, with a pillow under your hips to keep your propped up for him.

He’s just trying to get better leverage by wrapping his arm around your front to grab your shoulder. The thick muscle of his bicep flexes and presses against your throat, making a gasp leave your mouth.

Carmy practically freezes for a moment, before continuing the pace of his hips. He keeps his arm right where it is, letting his bicep rest against your neck. He then starts to squeeze his arm around your throat, just enough to make everything a little fuzzy.

Your reaction is instantaneous. Your back arches up against his thrusts, and you whimper desperately.

“Oh? You like that?” he asks with a teasing voice. He knew from the second you spasmed around him how good it felt for you. He keeps his pace constant, hitting deep inside of you. It’s becoming hard to think, let alone craft together words.

Your hand grips Carmy’s arm around your neck while you nod your head rapidly in response, but that’s not enough for him. “C’mon—‘M not squeezing that tight, tell me how much you like it,” he insists.

“Feels s’good—fuck, Bear,” you whine.

“Yeah? You like how strong I am? How I can have my way with you?” he murmurs. He places messy kisses all along your cheek before he speeds up his thrusts, practically making you see stars.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes—so strong. Always take such good care of me,” you choke out in a moan. He squeezes just a little bit tighter at your words, sending a euphoric feeling through your body.

“Know you’re close—can feel how close you are. Let go f’me, baby.” Those few words sent you right over the edge, legs shaking as your peak washed over you. Carmy loosens his grip on your neck, letting the blood rush back up to your head, heightening the feeling of your orgasm. It sends you right into a haze.

You can barely recognize the feeling of Carmen spilling into you moments later. You stay in the floaty haze for a few minutes, humming in response to Carmy’s soft voice checking on you as he cleans you up with a warm rag.

He finally pulls you onto his chest to settle down for the night, safe and sound in his arms.

So yeah after this whole ordeal you’re like obsessed with Carmy’s arms and he’s equally obsessed with fucking you from behind while choking you with his biceps.

His favorite way to do this is to have you bent over the kitchen counter…..

[nameless-jamie]

hi babes i was wondering if you could write a jamie x reader and she is rebecca’s longtime pa even though she’s in her early twenties and she is really ambitious and hardworking but also incredibly sweet and everyone in the club loves her, even roy and especially rebecca who is very protective over her. so jamie has always appreciated how nice she is to him even when he was a prick and he starts to like her but he’s to afraid to ask her out because he thinks he doesn’t deserve someone like her but his teammates and becca and keeley set them up somehow 🫶🏻 it’s totally okay if you ignore this, i just want to say that i love your writing sm and i hope you’re having a great day/night ❤️

The Setup

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! Rebecca's assistant reader

TW: cursing, kissing

A/N: Another rather long one! Thank you so much for your request and all the nice words!!!!!!!! I hope this does your idea justice. I wanted to try something new and added a clumsy/awkward Jamie vibe.

Jamie Tartt was known for his swagger. He was a confident footballer, a guy who walked into a room with the sort of energy that made heads turn.

It is safe to say Jamie Tartt had been called many things in his life—cocky, talented, a pain in the arse—but one thing he had never been called? Awkward.

At least, not until Y/N entered his life.

Y/N was sweet, hardworking, and ambitious—everything Jamie wasn’t sure he deserved. And it was that thought that sent him spiraling into awkwardness every time they crossed paths.

She was Rebecca’s longtime personal assistant, and despite being in her early twenties, she was the most competent person Jamie had ever met. She kept the club running smoothly, could handle an entire boardroom full of old men with nothing but a sharp look, and somehow still managed to be the sweetest person alive.

It wasn’t like Jamie could help it. There was just something about her—how she smiled at him, how she was always so kind, even when he acted like a total arse. And it was clear to everyone around him: Jamie Tartt had a massive crush on Rebecca’s personal assistant.

The first person to notice, oddly enough, was Roy. And he thought that Jamie's behavior was some sort of joke.

Jamie? The guy who never had a problem with women? Awkward around one?

Roy was in Y/N's office at the time, to go through some schedules, when he witnessed Jamie's awkwardness around the assistant for the first time.

"Morning, Y/N," Jamie greeted, practically tripping over the carpeted floor as he walked into her office. He straightened up and gave a goofy grin, hoping she didn’t notice. Of course, she did.

"Morning, Jamie," she smiled softly, hiding her amusement. She had been working with him for months, and while she liked him a lot, she couldn’t help but chuckle at how he turned into a nervous wreck whenever she was around.

Jamie tried to act cool, leaning casually against the doorframe. "You, uh, need anything? I’m good at, like, you know, organizing things. Keeping stuff on track n'all that."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering to help me organize the team’s calendar, Jamie Tartt?"

He stiffened, eyes wide. "I... well... uh, no. I mean, I could. I don’t know if I’m the best for that." He scratched the back of his neck, then, trying to recover, added, "But I’m really good at... um... I can, like, open doors for you? Like, literal doors. Not metaphorical ones."

Y/N couldn’t hold back a laugh, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress it. "Thanks, Jamie. I’ll keep that in mind."

Roy thought he'd lost his fucking mind. Jamie Tartt acting like...like Bambi trying to walk on ice. Like he's never talked to a girl before.

Unbeknownst to them, the whole club had noticed Jamie’s odd behavior around her. Rebecca, being the sharp-eyed smart woman that she is, had already picked up on his ridiculous attempts to impress Y/N.

How could she not. Rebecca's and Y/N's offices are conjoined and share one hallway. It wasn't hard to notice a certain Jamie Tartt lingering there, for unusual amounts of times.

"Hi Y/N, what are ya up to?— No that's sounds dumb." Jamie scratched his head walking the hallway to Y/N office up and down "Hi Y/N would you like to 'ave lunch— Fuuuck, no, no, no."

Rebecca sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose while finally daring to walk out of her office door. Yup. She heard all that, and not for the first time this week.

"You know, she's not here Jamie" She tapped him on the shoulder scaring him out of his head-space. "She's on lunch break, probably eating in the stands again."

Jamie's head turned so fast, he could've broken his neck "The stands, yeah?"

"Exactly."

And with that, he ran off...you guessed it, to the stands to catch a certain girl...

Keeley was a little late to notice the whole ordeal, but she did. She thought it was just normal Jamie behavior at first, maybe a new flirting technique. They were walking along the hallways of AFC Richmond. Jamie and Keleey. Just talking about some Instagram posts he had to make for a new sponsor when Jamie suddenly spotted Y/N.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jamie called out too loudly, his voice squeaky. He quickly cleared his throat. “Uh, hey, Y/N... uh... you doin' anythin' excitin' today?”

Y/N smiled at him, her voice sweet as always. “Just the usual. A few meetings and some scheduling updates. Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid.”

Jamie, who had been preparing himself for this moment all day, suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. They started fidgeting, one hand tugging at his shirt, the other scratching his neck in a way that looked like a nervous tic.

“Right... uh, right. Cool, cool,” he stammered. He attempted to take a step back but forgot that Keeley stood right behind him.

"Ow! What the fuck Jamie. These are Prada, for fuck sake. Since when are you so clumsy?" Keeley held her foot in pain. The same foot Jamie just trampled over.

"Fuck. Shit, I'm sorry, Keeley. I was just distracted." He looked up again, but Y/N had already vanished down the hallway.

"Distracted? Jamie, you're a goner for her!" Keeley mused. "Babes, you’ve got to stop acting like a kid around her. Just talk to her. Be real. She likes you."

Jamie, a nervous wreck, tried to sound casual. “Yeah, yeah, I will. But, uh, what do I even say?”

“Say anything, just don’t trip over my feet again!”

The team was the last and most excited to learn of Jamie's crush. His awkwardness had proper teasing potential.

Jamie just couldn’t act normal around her. At all.

"Morning, Jamie!" Y/N greeted him cheerfully as she passed by his locker, holding a stack of files for Rebecca.

Jamie, who had just taken a sip of his protein shake, choked immediately. He coughed violently, slapping his chest, while the rest of the locker room watched in horrified amusement.

"You alright, mate?" Sam asked, trying (and failing) to hold back a grin.

Jamie wheezed. "Yeah. Yeah, all good. Just… air. Wrong pipe."

Y/N giggled. "Well, try not to die. Rebecca needs me in a meeting, but I’ll see you later!"

Jamie just nodded, speechless, as she walked away. Then, as soon as she was out of sight, he let out a dramatic sigh and slumped forward.

The entire team erupted in laughter.

"You’re pathetic," Colin said, shaking his head.

Keeley, who had been standing by the door of the locker room that same morning, smirked. She was reporting everything back to Rebecca immediately. "Oh my God. He’s so into her. He looked like he was malfunctioning"

Rebecca, arms crossed, studied Keeley with an amused expression.

"Yeah, and the funniest part? She’s just as clueless," Keeley said, nudging Rebecca. "Y/N’s way too sweet to think Jamie Tartt of all people could have a crush on her."

"Well, he does," Rebecca hummed, watching her assistant Y/N work at her own desk, from their connecting office door.

"We have to set them up," Keeley whispered excitedly.

"Do you really think that is a good idea? He is Jamie Tartt. He brought two dates to the last fucking charity gala because he couldn't decide between them. Keeley Y/N's like a daughter to me, if he—"

Keeley sighed. "Wow, Rebecca, clipping Amor's wings with a machete... They are in love with each other and it is so obvious. Jamie isn't the same guy he used to be. He tripped over my fucking foot because of her, he's stuttering in front of her and all that stuff. I promise you, Rebecca, she will be damn happy with this Jamie!"

Rebecca thought about that for a moment. Y/N really was talking a lot about Jamie. She's never talked about Sam or Dani or any other equally good-looking player like that. And Y/N has been single for quite a while.

"Shit, ok. What's the plan?"

A few days later...

“There’s a light out in the boot room,” Roy grunted at Jamie one afternoon after training. Yup, Roy was in on the plan too...

Jamie raised a skeptical brow. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“Will is uh...like scared of the dark or some shit so he can't fix it,” Roy chimed in as if it was common knowledge.

“And why can't you do it then?” Jamie said dryly.

Roy grumbled at what he was about to say, just for this fucking setup. “Because I'm too fucking old, my knee and stuff.”

Jamie squinted at him and grinned a little. Haha, grandad just admitted he's old. “Ok and why do I have to do it now?”

“Because I said so,” Roy growled, crossing his arms.

Jamie looked between Roy and the boot room, clearly unconvinced. He opened his mouth to protest, but Roy leaned in just slightly, his glare enough to shut Jamie up.

“…Fine,” Jamie muttered. “But if I die of an electric shock or some shit, I’m hauntin’ you first, Roy.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, Rebecca casually turned to Y/N.

“Darling, the boot room needs a lightbulb change,” she said smoothly. “Would you be a dear and handle it?”

Y/N blinked. “Me?”

Rebecca smiled. “I’d do it myself, but I have a meeting with Higgins. And I’d rather not ask anyone else.”

“Oh! Of course,” Y/N said, ever eager to be helpful.

And with that, the plan was set.

Jamie walked into the dimly lit room, squinting in the near-darkness. “Right, let’s get this over with…”

Then he turned and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Y/N entering from the other side.

“Shit!” Jamie exclaimed. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Y/N frowned. “Rebecca asked me to change the lightbulb. What are you doing here?”

“Roy told me to do it,” Jamie said suspiciously. Then realization dawned on him. “Oh, those sneaky bastards.”

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, the door behind them suddenly shut.

And locked.

Y/N gasped. “Wait—what?”

Jamie rushed to the door, jiggling the handle. “No, no, no—oh, you pricks!” he called through the door.

A muffled voice—Keeley—responded cheerfully, “You’re welcome!”

Jamie groaned and rested his forehead against the door. “I can’t believe this.”

Y/N, still processing, turned in a slow circle and then gasped again when she spotted something on the small bench in the center of the room.

A neatly arranged picnic-style setup—complete with wine, glasses, and a plate of sandwiches.

Y/N turned back to Jamie. “…Are we being set up?”

Jamie sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we are.”

Silence fell between them.

Then Jamie huffed out a laugh and turned to face her. “Well. Guess we’re stuck here for a bit.”

Y/N bit her lip, shifting on her feet. “I suppose so.”

Jamie studied her for a moment, and then, with a small smirk, he gestured to the bench. “Wine?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head but accepting the glass he handed her. They sat down, the tension easing as they started talking—real talking, not just the usual pleasantries exchanged at work. No awkward stuttering, no stumbling, just talking.

Jamie told her about his journey back to Richmond, about his mistakes, about how he was trying to be better. Y/N listened, genuinely interested, and in turn, shared her own stories—how she ended up working for Rebecca, how much she loved the team, how she sometimes felt like she didn’t quite belong in such a chaotic environment.

Jamie, without hesitation, told her she absolutely belonged.

One glass of wine turned into two. Conversations turned into laughter.

And then, at some point, the air between them shifted.

Y/N realized how close they were sitting, how Jamie’s arm had ended up draped along the back of the bench they had migrated to. His knee brushed against hers, and neither of them moved away.

Jamie looked at her, really looked at her. “Y’know,” he murmured, voice softer now, “I think I’ve liked you for ages.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. “You… do?”

Jamie let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. ‘Course I do. You’re smart, and funny, and you’re always nice to me—even when I was a right dickhead.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t think I deserved you, though. And I kind of lose me rizz as soon as I see ya, so I could never make proper move.”

Y/N swallowed, heart pounding. “Jamie…”

He turned to her, eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite name. And before she lost the courage, she leaned in—just slightly.

Jamie noticed. His lips curled into a slow grin. “You makin’ a move on me now, love?”

Y/N’s face went warm. “Maybe.”

Jamie hummed, clearly pleased. “About time someone did that.”

And then he kissed her.

It started slow, tentative—but the moment she kissed him back, Jamie deepened it, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek. Y/N melted into it, her fingers grasping at his shirt as he pulled her closer.

Neither of them noticed the click of the lock or the way the door cracked open slightly.

Nor did they hear Rebecca, Keeley, and Roy quietly high-fiving on the other side.

[mullermilkshake]

PART THREE - Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader x Satoru Gojo

One hot day. Tags- Kidnapping,Mutilation,Sexual tension,Yandere!Gojo Yandere!Reader,Creampie,Death by machinery,Murder

“Ken, baby.” He ignored your sweaty drawl in his ear, his teeth grazing down your sensitive shoulder to make you shudder underneath him.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, Darling.” 

He could, very well in fact, you were certain you’d said it clear enough after the third time he made you come. Kento had a knack for overstimulation. so controlled and accurate to the settings on your body it was as though he’d written the manual.

“No more… I don’t think I can go again.” 

“Look at you.” He brushed a strand of damp hair from your face, moving his hips in a way the anticipation hurt in slow burning movements. “I believe you can go once more. Don’t you?”

You shook your head and breathed out rapidly as your body got weaker and more achy. Weather permitting, you still had to drive somewhere after this, what if your legs gave out before you got there? Or if you didn’t have strength to use the brakes, you’d go careering off a ledge into a ditch or something.

Kento knew you had to leave after too, that’s why he was dragging it on.

He’s so considerate to my needs and so needy… I love that. 

Still, you really did need to leave sooner or later, otherwise the heat in the air would ruin the package you had in the trunk. It was probably melting and sweating already, it had to be posted today otherwise you’d get a late fee.

“Baby… I really have to go.” You never wanted to, ever.

“I suppose I’ve kept you long enough, haven’t I?” Kento pressed his lips to your nose and pecked your cheeks and forehead. “Hold on then.”

He pulled you close and wrapped his muscular arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He was clearly bracing for the best fuck of your life, his hips bucked and thrusted without notice or mercy. Kento fucked you within an inch of your life and wasn’t sorry about it.

I love it when he uses me like this. 

You were his to command and use in any way he deemed appropriate, it seemed like he was beginning to clock onto it with how he held you down like he didn’t care. His hard cock pulsated and shuddered at the wet slickness hung in the silent room par the wet breaths and bare skin against the other. The way his ragged breaths in your neck sent you crazy, locking your legs around his waist more tightly with a threat of your fingernails digging in.

“Come inside me- I want you to come inside me… Please.” 

You loved it when he came inside you and left you in a mess. Like a mark to show he owned you in the most primal way, like the way animals marked their territory. You would let it happen, give yourself to him entirely and all you wanted in return were those three little words.

That’s all. You were still waiting on them, but eventually you knew they would come.

“Inside you?” He rasped, pulling back to watch you with lidded eyes though never letting up his pace. “How much do you want it? Tell me.”

“Lots- more than lots-” It was all you could bring to the table, your mind beginning to melt for real.

“Use your words darling.”

With a bit of umph from his hips, you got there. “So much, I want it so much, Ken, Baby please!”

Kento kissed you again, but left his lips lingering against yours and held you tight. As if on cue, he emptied himself inside you, coming hard and jerking between your legs with the same animalistic grunt that made you gush.

“Fuck…” Now, you didn't want to move at all, just stay as you were for a little while.

But the package. Fuck. Fucking waste of space and time, useless piece of shit! 

Kento stayed as he was, the noticeable sweat dripping from his hair all over your chest. It was just that hot today and the air conditioner chugged temporarily.

“It’s so hot in here.”

He huffed at you with a smile and pulled you up, still inside and still very much erect. “And you said it was a good way to pass the time… come take a shower with me? Before you go.”

And you did, a quick one at that before regrettably leaving into your hotbox car before the air conditioning kicked into a little. You waved Kento off noting his bare chest out on show just for you, he waved and waited for you to drive on the road before closing the door.

“Holy shit it’s really hot in here.” The breeze from the car window did better than the AC but it was the package in the trunk you were nervous about.

A small and mostly insignificant package you only agreed to deliver because you were petty enough to drive all that way. But soon enough you were regretting wasting gas driving all the way out in the middle of nowhere to a recycling plant.

You drove slowly along the winding road and hit a few pot holes, sending the package flying around in the back with an almighty thunk. Shit, it better not be broken. If it was, you’d kick yourself for letting it sit as long as it had.

Pulling up, no one greeted you or even made themselves known. Well, they wouldn’t have, this site worked more in the twilight hours due to the heat. Dropping the package off meant that someone else would find it later.

Good enough for you.

The heat hit you right in the face like a firm barrier as you hopped out and made your way to the trunk to secure the package for delivery. The banging stopped and you could only imagine what state she was in.

“Sorry, I forgot how hot it was… Oi.” You bent down and slapped the woman's cheek about a little.

She was an opportunist who decided it was good etiquette to touch Kento’s hand two seconds longer than socially exceptable and giving him ‘fuck me’ eyes right in front of you.

Stupid dumb bitch. 

“Don’t say you’ve died on me before I can do what I wanted to do.” You smacked her again and she wriggled a little. “I’ve always wanted to do this to someone like you, so wake the fuck up!”

She opened her eyes and panicked, trying to move away from you like she could get far. The woman was gagged and bound, she couldn’t have run away at all if she wanted to. No, the only option she had was to wriggle around like a dirty slug on the floor, ready to be squished.

You yanked her out of the car and let her fall with a thud, crying behind the cloth in her mouth which soiled the dry powdery dirt. “Now, I’m going to take you up there, and you can mull over on what you did, alright?”

“Mhhhhhhhmmppphh!” 

“Cry me a river, bitch. You know exactly what you did.”

The sweat began dripping from your brow, the shower did nothing to keep you fresh but only prolonged the sweat of hard work. The anger spurred you on to drag the woman towards the facility by her feet. She thrashed and wiggled to the best of her ability, screaming behind the gag and you just ignored her. She was mocking you. You saw the side eye she gave you at the counter after giving Kento his change, she thought she was better than you. Better for Kento apparently.

But you were obviously the better match, otherwise he wouldn’t be with you, right?

You dragged the woman up some cast iron stairs, making sure to hit her head on each ledge on the way up. Each scream was as satisfying as the last, a musical symphony just for you to enjoy. She frantically wriggled so much, she actually popped the gag out from her mouth.

Her voice split through your brain like an icepick embedded in your skull. “Please- please don’t do this! I’ve done nothing wrong- please!”

“So you figured it out then?” The lever clicked and turned the machinery on which should have required ear defenders, you crouched down and watched the amusing fear in her eyes. “No one touches my man and gets to keep both their hands. But you did it on purpose to spite me. So I can’t let that slide.”

The metal shredder blinked to life for a moment and powered down again. You turned and almost toppled over. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“What?” Gojo shrugged, leaning on the metal pole barrier over the metal shredder. “Your ears aren’t protected, you’ll damage them.”

“Help me- please help me, she’s crazy!” The woman pleaded to him despite his eyes never acknowledging her.

Standing up was meant to intimidate him, however it didn’t. “You were following me- when the hell did you get here?”

“I’ve been here long enough. I wanted to see what you were going to do- I mean, throwing her in a metal shredder? I’m already getting a hard on. But then you decided on doing this in unsafe working conditions. That I can’t abide.”

“Please, help!” 

“You are ridiculous. I told you to leave me alone and now you’re going to ruin this for me again?” You poked his chest as a statement, but he took it in his grasp and pulled you close. “Don’t touch me. I dragged her sorry ass all the way up here and now you want to help me? Give me space for christ sake.”

“Oh my god, someone listen to me!” 

He didn’t move after you attempted to yank yourself out of his grip, like embedded rock. “I’ll help you. I said I’d do your dirty work for you.”

You cringed at his hand sliding down from your back to your waist, holding you firmly as though you were lovers. “I said get away from me! I’ll do this on my own.”

“Help me!” 

In unison, you and Gojo turned and glared at her. “Shut up!” 

This temporarily muted her in shock, shuffling up against the metal grating like it would do anything to protect her. You finally slipped from Gojo’s grasp, but it was clear you did because he let you. You kicked the level to switch the machine on and the woman started screaming again.

“This is mine. Don’t get involved.”

The woman tried backing away and wriggled as much as she could to prevent you throwing her off the edge. “Get off of me, please don’t do this!”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch. You’re going in one way or another so just accept that you’re a man stealing whore who can’t get her own.”

“You want some help?-”

“Fuck off, Gojo- what are you doing?!” He had pushed past you and lugged the woman over his shoulder and just threw her in like she was nothing but a discarded tissue.

Despite your anger of being side blinded again, she was trash.

“I can’t believe you-” Gojo grabbed your waist and cupped the back of your neck until your lips ghosted his in the wide spray of blood and popping crunches below, he could have kissed you, but he didn’t.

He kicked out his leg and switched the machine off. When it died down, you could have sworn he was inhaling you, his hot breath dusting your bottom lip and making it tickle. “I can smell him on you. Are you doin’ this on purpose?” He rested his face in the crook of your neck like Kento had done. “I can’t take this…”

“Gojo…” what could you even say to that? Actually, you knew exactly what. “You ruined it again! I can’t believe you, you just can’t leave well enough alone!”

He watched you with adoration, fiddling with your earlobe absentmindedly. “What can I say? When it comes to you I get a compulsion. You get it too. So you know what I’m feeling right now.”

“You don’t know how I feel, all you think about is yourself. I have a boyfriend who I love and will do anything for and you’re getting in the way of it!”

Gojo turned you a little and shifted his weight to one side. “Well if that’s the case, maybe I’ll head back to Nanami’s place right now and get rid of him. Seems the right thing to me, I don’t know what more he’s good for to be honest with you.”

This cocky bastard.

“Take a fucking step back- I told you before that if you touch a hair on his head, I’ll hurt you in the worst way possible.”

“Sounds romantic.” Was he going to kiss you?

You wouldn't let him if he tried. “You’re my worst nightmare.”

“And you’re my best wet dream ever…” No he wasn’t going to, because he pulled away and flashed a cheeky grin. “Hey, I have an idea on how Nanami can be useful, I might tolerate it. How do you think Nanami feels about threesomes?”

Tag list - @nanamineedstherapy

Hi! 😊

Your writing is so immersive that it feels cinematic—like watching a movie unfold in real time. I love how you always manage to surprise me with plot twists that I never see coming! It’s such a refreshing change from knowing exactly where the story is headed.

I’d absolutely love if you could give Yandere!Reader another go with Nanamin. I think it would be fascinating since Nanami’s level-headedness might keep him from suspecting her. And if you're open to poly ships, it’d be thrilling to add Gojo into the mix with a twist—Yandere!Reader x Nanami x Gojo, but with Gojo secretly yandere all along. Maybe he’s been stalking both of them, planning for the perfect moment to reveal his obsession and orchestrating their “first meeting” to suit his agenda. I’ll leave the rest to your creativity, as I’m sure you’ll bring unexpected layers and depth!

Thank you for considering this! I’m so grateful for all the hard work you put into your stories. 😊🌸

Thanks so much for the kind words! It really means a lot. I love trying to write it all cinematic and doing things that go against the grain because my brain is twisted lol.

I can definitely do that, I hope you enjoy it!

Kento Nanami x Reader x Satoru Gojo

TAGS- Yandere!Reader,Yandere!Gojo,Stalking,Thoughts of killing people,Yandere!thoughts and motives,Masking,Graphic depictions of violence and mentions of damage to eyes.

One americano, two shots of espresso and two pumps of vanilla. Every day at seven thirty five. But not on Sundays sometimes because meetings run over. 

“Oh! I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going- oh god look at your suit, it must be expensive right?”

It was about time you made proper contact with Kento Nanami. You watched on in awe at his stance, brushing the coffee away from his suit in such a way it made the mundane action sexy. Lustrous. Like he was trying to make the way he allowed a strand of hair to fall past his forehead almost purposefully. With an intent to send you crazy.

Good thing you weren’t like those fangirls you often saw on television, crawling about the stage because a man gyrated over his mic. No, you were merely a coffee barista. A damn good one at that. Well, except for spilling coffee all over Kento’s suit.

But how else were you going to get his attention?

You were barely hanging on as it was watching the others make his drink to order. That’s why you made this one for him.

Jesus fucking hell Utahime It’s two pumps of vanilla. I swear I could kill that bitch right now. Shove head under the hot water valve and watch her eyes burn out the sockets.

It was a little drastic, even for you, but if anyone just saw the way Utahime was talking to Kento they would have assumed the two were dating or something. Kento Nanami was single. Definitely single.

The last girl he wanted to date just never made it to that coffee date on time.

None of his other dates did either.

“It’s fine, really.” The first sentence he spoke to you wasn't ‘thank you’ or his coffee order.

A formulated sentence.

Well, that was five months ago. Kento Nanami made the right choice that day to accept your invitation for a drink. Just like you planned. All seemed well and good for a time before you were noticing something strange when out in public.

White hair.

It was all you seemed to ever see. Out in the store or late night trip to the movies, hooked up to Kento’s arm during a scary or suspenseful part. It just seemed to be there, though you never knew who it belonged to. Never a face to linger for a second to make the connection. Just nothing. It tickled the back of your neck, putting you on the defense as though Kento was in danger. What sort of fucked up person would stalk someone? The idea of it was deranged, sick at the thought that someone was watching him, watching you with him.

White hair. You just couldn’t place it.

“Ken, love! What do you think of this dress?!” You called from upstairs, slipping on your shoes and smoothing down the hem of the fabric.

“I’m sure it’s perfect-” He paused, looking you up and down as though studying every inch of your body before he forgot what it looked like.

“Do I look pretty?”

He nodded slowly, stepping close to sit his hand on your waist. “You look beautiful.”

Hearing Kento say such kind and wonderful things made your night, heck, your entire week. Who gave a crap what anyone else thought? Just Kento was more than what you needed to prove that he liked you very much. You loved him of course, but that was love at first sight. Counting down the agonising days until he said it back to you, when you told him all the time in your head or whilst he slept. It took restraint not to slip up and make him doubt things.

So difficult not to say it for the man you loved.

“Thank you.” You giggled at his touch, planting a kiss on your temple with a husky growl in his throat.

“Maybe we should leave dinner tonight? I can’t possibly see how I’ll cope without taking you back to mine straight away. Too beautiful.”

“Restrain yourself, Ken. Someone might think you’re in love with me or something!” Your ecstatic grin sat just in front of your face as though to mask your brain away.

Say it… just say it please. Tell me you love me. I need to hear it. 

His attentive smile made your stomach flip when he pulled you close and spun you around to face the mirror. “If they saw your smile, they would understand what a lovely person you are. And see how I can’t resist you when you’re in a dress like this.”

Oh dear. Maybe some other time. 

“Well,” You kept that mask on and pulled away from him. “Should we get going then? Don’t want to be late.”

“Of course.” 

Kento drove straight to the restaurant, quite an upscale place for no occasion. Maybe there was? Perhaps Kento had something planned that you were unaware of, something spontaneous or quite the opposite. A planned surprise? It was practically the night of your five month month anniversary after all, two hundred wonderful days spent seeing each other and having astronomical sex. 

You didn’t get your hopes up and held your breath when he climbed out of the car and opened the door for you. So special. So dedicated to your comfort with the slightest touch from his fingers on the small of your back. Adrenaline made everything ten times more acute, aware of everything and anything you walked by and as you seated yourself at the table facing Kento, your heart beat so fast. Five months was a long time when you had waited longer to be with him.

You were basically in a relationship with him for well over a year by now it seemed, surely that was long enough to hear those three words?

“Can I get you any drinks?” The waitress grinned at Kento and then at you.

Why him first? He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, but what right did this bitch have setting eyes on him? You ignored the irritation and blinked it away for now, letting Kento speak for you and took a moment to observe the room.

White hair.

A flash of it and you would have missed it had you turned away to scowl at the waitress again. White hair like you were imagining it.

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Kento slid his hand forward and offered it to you. “You seem distant.”

“I’m fine.” You were not, but took his hand anyway. “It’s a little chilly in here, don’t you think?”

“I’ll ask them to turn the heat up, will that be alright?” 

He’s so considerate. “That would be great, thank you.”

You played it off and ignored the itch on the back of your neck, being watched did not agree with you. Kento sat still and his head tilted to the side a little, studying you again whilst his free hand rummaged into his suit pocket.

“I have something for you.” He pulled out a little box. “I know we haven’t been dating that long, but I wanted to get you something I hope you’ll like. If it’s too early, please let me know.”

A box. A small little box. It was light in your hand, velvet to the touch and firm enough that it must have come from those places that sold rings for stupid money. One little box, something so small which held your heart right in Kento’s pocket.

Is he proposing? Please tell me he’s proposing. It means he loves me, right? 

“Ken… What-” A pair of earrings.

“I know you lost one from the pair you always said you wore, so I wanted to get you a new pair. I hope it’s appropriate.”

You forbid yourself to be disappointed, because it wasn’t about the hope that a ring sat nestled perfectly in this box. You put up your mask and smiled sweetly enough to satisfy him. “It is. Thank you so much, I love them!”

He’ll propose some day. 

“Here are your drinks.” 

The waitress took Kento’s drink off first and placed it right in front of him. Then she placed yours down off to the side. She was doing it on purpose, you were sure of it. The steak knife on the table looked pretty good to shove straight in her neck- 

She cleared her throat and placed the tray under her arm. “I’ll be back in a moment to see what you'd like to order.”

“Thank you.” Kento paid no mind to it and took a sip of his wine. “This is a nice vintage, I think we should go to one of those wine tasting evenings. It’s a good place to get to know each other more.”

You did not need to know Kento more. You knew practically everything about him in the four months he stepped into your life physically. 

He liked to drink, hence the wine tasting suggestion. Kento also enjoyed cooking, especially as he lived alone in his apartment, but he also enjoyed dishing up delicacies in your own kitchen. His birthday was July third and he had a particular interest in the arts, like music and theatre. A man of many tastes. 

“Hello there, can I get you something to eat?” A voice of a man you did not recognise came into ear shot.

“I think we might need a minute. Our waitress is taking our order.”

White hair.

You looked up and saw white hair, only this time it did not disappear. The white hair had a face, a blue eyed porcelain complexion with a smooth grin. The man stood taller than Kento dressed in a suit and staff ID.

“I’m sorry, she suddenly became unwell and had to go home. I’ll be taking your order tonight.” He smiled again and made eye contact with you. “My name is Satoru Gojo and I will do everything I can to make sure your night is perfect.”

Gojo. His gaze over you was the exact same distinct feeling of being preyed on. His cutting glare just behind the loose strands of hair over his forehead that looked softer than a cloud. You didn’t know what to make of this, but at least that waitress was gone. You really thought you were going to have to do something about her.

“Alright then. I’ll be back momentarily.”

“Ken, I’m just going to use the restroom, if he comes back before then, can you order me…” You took a brief glance at the menu and chose anything you first landed your eyes on. Gojo wandered off towards the opposite end of the restaurant, somewhere not where the kitchen was. “The steak? I’ll have it however it’s recommended.”

“Alright.”

You took off and made your way over towards the restroom, noting that he had disappeared. Crap. You wanted answers to why it seemed like that man was following you, stalking Kento for no apparent reason.

Would you need to do something about this guy? He was taller than you realised, so he must have been stronger too. You were not super strong by a long stretch, but when pushed enough to the limit, it drove you to do things you thought your body was not capable of.

Just look at the last waitress that brought the wrong drink and almost spilt it all over him just last week. So much blood and she was still wailing after you shoved your stiletto heel in her face.

People never learn. 

By the time you reached the restroom, the stalls were all empty besides one. The long wall length mirror outlined them all like little match boxes opened after use, showing the amber light inside for an ambient glow.

“How did I know that I’d find you in here, hm?” Gojo’s voice echoed throughout the restroom.

It startled you enough to move towards the door and lock it, backing away from the closed door and sitting your back flush with the slate grey tiles adjacent to it.

The toilet stall opened and he came out much less cheerful than he was outside, hands tight in his trouser pockets. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Who are you?”

“It’s funny, no one else ever seems to notice me when I don't want them to. But your instincts are hot on it every time, aren’t they?”

“Tell me who you are.” 

This wasn’t a show of weakness or a moment that revealed your vulnerabilities. When you glared back in his eyes, it was Kento you thought of. If this man was here to hurt him, well, you’d fucking kill him. Out in the back alley, no witnesses and back in time for your steak and boyfriend you’d do anything for. To kill for three times over already. Yes, you’d do it if the opportunity called for it.

“Y’know, I was so ready to come and kick the shit out of that guy when I saw that little box he gave you, but I see right through that little charade you got goin’ on. I've been watching' you a while now.” By now, he’d taken precisely four steps towards you, taking the opportunity to lean against the row of inbuilt sinks. “You’re exactly like me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you need to stop stalking me and my boyfriend. I’ll call the police.”

Gojo’s laugh made your stomach lurch. This guy was a whole new level of crazy you had never seen before. “That’s cute. You’re cute. But no, I’m not stalking him, just you.”

“Then stop doing that.”

“Why, aren’t you scared that I might do what I just said I was goin’ to do? He looks strong but when he has his hands all over you, it sorta drives me crazy.”

Gojo would not make it past the restroom door if he intended on hurting Kento. Yet, why did you contemplate that you’d rather take on the waitress instead of him right now?

Shaking the doubts away, you imagined the scenarios that may occur should you get hold of another steak knife or any other sharp object really. One of the heavy statues in the foyer could prove adequate to crush his head or even one of those little blow torches for creme brûlée right to his face.

For now, your mask dropped, and for a time you could breathe a little. Pretending to be happy all the time was difficult work and holding back on punching anyone who gave eyes at Kento took practice and great restraint. “If you go near him at all, I’ll kill you. I won’t just kill you though, it’ll be worse than torture.”

Gojo stepped closer to you and looked down as though you were a child to be patronised. “That’s my girl. Now, why don’t you introduce me to your little boyfriend so we can make this more official, huh?”

He’d backed you into a corner, right up against the wall. “I meant what I said. Don’t come near us.”

“And I know you have the same urges as me, you think no one sees, but I do. I see you. You won’t have to pretend around me. I’ll even do all your dirty work, that’s what I enjoy most.” He placed his palm on the wall beside your head, leaning in so his mouth was right next to your ear. 

“Lets get this fucked up little love triangle kickin’ hm?

[vorchagirl]

❛ i’ll never be that me again. ❜ for Lucanis x Rook, please!

Thank you for the drabble ask! I wrote this one as a little snippet of Lucanis x Rook from my love triangle fic 'The Dragon and the Crow'.

🐲🐲🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐲🐦‍⬛🐲🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐲🐲

"Do you want to go back to Ashur?"

Lucanis' question broke the silence like a rock through a pane of glass, and he heard Rook's sharp intake of breath. They both knew that it hadn't been fair for him to blame her for the dragon attack on Treviso, but seeing his home blighted and friends killed had been too much. He had wanted space to figure things out - had needed space - but the moment he sent Rook away, he regretted it.

Rook had chosen to save her home over his, and it had not been right for him to take his pain out on her. But he had, and she had run back to the one place that made her feel safe: to her fellow Dragons in Minrathous.

To the Viper.

Rook clutched her mug so hard that her knuckles turned while. "I...I don't know," she confessed, and her eyes moved to the cioccolata calda. "After Treviso and what you said... I was confused. Hurt. I shouldn't have gone to the Dragons or to him, but I was upset."

"I know," Lucanis accepted her words, though Spite churned uneasily, gnashing his teeth and growling in his chest. "But I need to know if you want to go back to him. You know how I feel, and I don't want to lose you ... but I don't want to be the reason you don't follow your heart."

Her eyes filled with tears at his gentle words, and she set the mug down, visibly fighting to control her emotions. "I thought I was over him. I didn't realise that he would still affect me like this. I didn't realise that he still -"

"Still had feelings for you?" He supplied, and sighed as he set his own mug back on the table, trying hard to find the words to express himself. "Rook, you saved me from the Ossuary, and then you saved me from myself when I was struggling with Spite, but I don't want you to feel under duress to stay with me. I'm very certain of my feelings for you - I've never felt this way about anyone before - but I want you to be certain about how you feel about me."

"I am!" Rook reached across and took his hand. "Lucanis, I love you." A stray tear, glistening and jewel-like, slid from the corner of one eye. "But... I think I still love him, too."

Lucanis nodded, his heart contracting painfully. "Even though he broke your heart?"

She nodded tearfully. "Pathetic, isn't it?"

He managed a wry smile and squeezed her hand briefly, then let go to pick up his mug again, "The heart wants what the heart wants. I should probably hate Illario for what he did to me, but I can't bring myself to kill him."

Rook chewed her lower lip, her agitation obvious. "I feel so mixed up. I'm not the same person I used to be when I was with Ashur, and I'll never be that me again. She died the day he sent me away. The person I am now? The woman I've become? I'm stronger than I used to be and I like who I am."

"But you still love him?"

She nodded and sighed again. "I love both of you."

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 31

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 800

Masterlist

———————————————————————

  This Monday morning, I smiled, reminiscing about the weekend. On Sunday, we had explored the turquoise blue coves around Marseille. It was with regret that we returned to the gray skies on Sunday evening. She had to go back home to her children, while I returned to my place, greeted only by an empty fridge.  

I grabbed my computer and sent her a message.

 How’s the easy girl doing? 

 "Did you eat a clown this morning or what?" 

It was Alexia, who had just arrived at the office. She observed me, surprised.

 "Ona! What did you do this weekend? Your face is all sunburned!" 

Indeed, Lucy had been right. September's sun could be ruthless, and it had clearly left its mark on me. I was busted.

 "Uh, I was in Marseille!" 

She sat down in front of me, staring.

 "You didn’t tell me! With who?" 

Caught.

 "With Marie! It was a last-minute plan, Saturday morning." 

 "Marie, that girl? Why don’t you ever tell me anything? We’re supposed to share everything! Does she work for the FBI or something?" 

I smiled at her.

 "Sorry, Alexia, I’m telling you now. It just happened, that’s all!" 

 "Tell me, are you having romantic little weekends now?"  she teased, winking as she walked out of my office.

 "Very funny, Alexia. We’re just enjoying life, that’s all!" 

My gaze shifted back to my computer, where a new message had just arrived.

 Fine. And you, Miss Tease? 

We fell into the habit of seeing each other regularly, Lucy and I, almost every two days in the weeks that followed, sometimes at her place but mostly at mine. She also took me on a weekend trip to her parents’ chalet in the Alps, filled with walks, restaurant outings, and passionate nights. I let myself go, not thinking about what this relationship was or where it was heading. Nowhere, I assumed. Sometimes I wondered what Lucy felt, but we never had that conversation. Out of modesty? Fear of hearing the truth?  

Through small hints, a few words, we showed our affection. But what level of affection was it? It was especially hard for me to go more than two days without feeling a longing for Lucy. I had a visceral need to touch her, to see her, to feel her presence.

  That Thursday evening, we were at my place.   I had work to finish on my computer, while she was poring over a huge city map, punching numbers into a calculator.

 "What are you working on?"  I asked her.

She turned toward me, her glasses perched on her nose.

 "I’m calculating the number of people responsible for security during Saturday’s Pride parade along the route. A real joy!" 

I frowned, and she added:

 "there’s a real risk of disruptions from extremist groups like Civitas. They’ve made threats. So, I’m double-checking everything the prefect and police have planned. I don’t want any incidents!" 

I smiled at her.

 "Are you going?" 

 "Yes, I go every year as Mayor. This will be my tenth! Impressive, huh?" 

 "More than me, clearly. Incredible!" 

I remembered seeing her several times at Pride, inaugurating the start of the parade. I teased her:

 "This year, you could ride on a float given the circumstances. I’ll come with you if you want!" 

 "Why not!"  she replied with a smile.  "Even though I’m not gay!" 

I began stroking her arm, still teasing her.

 "Hmmm, not even a little?" 

I moved closer, whispering in her ear. She turned to face me.

 "I’m a straight woman having a special experience with a gorgeous girl." 

 "Don’t take it that way, Ona. I didn’t mean  experience  like that." 

I pulled back, taken aback by her words. The term  special experience  didn’t sit well with me. She noticed my change in mood and tried to backtrack.

I pouted, turning my gaze away.

 "Words have meaning. It’s fine, I get the message." 

She moved closer and grabbed my hand.

 "Ona! Don’t make that face... Consider me however you want." 

She placed my hand against her lips. I pulled it back, straightening up.

 "What matters most, Lucy, is how you see yourself." 

She raised her eyebrows, clearly tired of the direction this conversation was taking.

 "Ona, seriously! Maybe you want me to come out this weekend at Pride? And then you can move in with me next week with the twins? And we’ll live happily ever after with lots of kids?" 

She spoke sharply. I was stunned, unable to find a reply. Realizing her harshness, she softened her tone.

 "I don’t like where this conversation is going, Ona. I didn’t mean to put it that way..." 

But the words had been said, unmistakably. She took my hand again.

 "I have to go; it’s already 9 PM."  She kissed me before leaving my apartment.

I was shaken. Even though I had suspected this wouldn’t go anywhere, the conversation forced me to confront the truth I didn’t want to acknowledge. I realized, deep down, that I had hoped for something more—a real relationship with Lucy, though I hadn’t admitted it to myself. Now, I knew it would never happen.

[cinnaminsvga]

zee omg what to do to feel young again where did the bright days go zee? the world felt eternal and now it feels eternal in a death kinda eternal zee omg cringe

i think people's idea of youth has really skewed over the past couple of years,,, i remember turning 20 and feeling so old but like in reality?? its really not the case?? life has just begun?? its beautiful and terrifying and soul crushing and heart wrenching and and and..!

but i also hate when people say that "youth is overrated" and that your 10s/20s are gonna be shit because you're still immature but like!! i wanna enjoy life though!! and yeah things can be bad sometimes for young adults but we also can focus on the good aspects!!

i like to think of youth as a lifestyle rather than an age... ive met many youthful 40 yr olds and older who have so much joy and wonder despite the horrors (and oh, how the horrors love to persist). youth is all about the bright and the dark, the good and the bad... youth is when you wake up early in the morning ready to face the day but it's also when you wake up at 6 pm and can barely feed yourself. it's woe and misery, but it's also happiness and excitement. let's live our youths together anon!!!!

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Tattoo artist!rafe x angel!reader who lets rafe do her secret tats, the ones that her parents have no clue about.

warnings: secret tattoos, suggestive so MDNI, he does end up touching and looking at your boobs LMFAO, nd this is for my girls with spaced out titties (me) ✊🏽

♫ dirty little secret, the all-american rejects

“Shit, is that who I think it is?” His voice causes you to look up, smiling at him with a little wave, standing up from the leather couch you were sat on, pocketing your phone and walking towards him.

“My favorite client.” He complimented, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you with a grin on his face.

“Aww… you’re too sweet.”

“How are you? It’s been a little. Last I saw you was church.” He said with a chuckle, you shrugging.

“Same old. How about you?”

“It’s been… going. You know, can’t complain. But I was really glad when I saw you dm me.” He spoke, motioning for you to follow him back when he began to walk. He led you into a room, shutting the door behind him. You sat down, nerves shooting as he turned back to you.

“So, I got the reference all drawn out.” He spoke while grabbing the stencil, showing it to you. “What do you think?”

“It’s amazing! As always.”

He smiled, flattered. He began putting his gloves on, your heart thumping against your chest as you sat down. You were nervous for two reasons, one being that tattoos always made you nervous, rightfully so. Reason two, well, that was because Rafe, one of your best friends who you had a fat crush on, was about to see you completely topless. It’s not like he hasn’t before, last appointment being a pair of little angel wings on your back, leaving you in your bra.

But now, he was literally going to see you without a bra. Maybe you should have picked another artist.

But it was too late to turn back now, you realized after he turned back, cleaning supplies for your skin in hand, along with the stencil.

“Uhm- can you take off your shirt and bra f’me?” He nodded at you, your cheeks warming up at the words. “Here, I’ll-“ he murmured, turning around to give you some sort of privacy, his back facing you. You tugged off both garments of clothing, and swallowed the lump that formed in your throat when he turned to look back at you. You sat back down on the chair.

“You all good?” He asked you, trying his best to look at your face rather than your tits as he walked closer to the chair. He grabbed the cleaning supplies, cleaning near and on the area where you wanted it before drying your skin off.

“Mhm.” You nodded, watching as his eyes traveled down your body, a spark in his eyes, he moved his hands slowly, beginning to line the little bow stencil up. His hands grazed the skin of your breasts, causing your breath to hitch. You held them in your hands, shielding them from his eyes.

“Okay… you said right here, correct?” He spoke, glancing into your eyes as he placed the stencil where the valley of where your boobs were, trying his best to remain professional despite everything. God, he hoped you couldn’t see the way his cock started to stir in his pants.

You nodded at him, him poking his tongue out of his mouth as he put it against your skin, smoothing it against your body before peeling it back, the ink now on your skin.

He sighed out in relief, it was perfectly placed and he hadn’t given away that he was rock hard.

“You want a water?” He asked you, you nodding at him. “Alright. I’ll be back.” He spoke, you finally taking a breath when he walked out of the room.

Not only was it an almost seemingly very long appointment, he made it worse every time you felt his hands brush up on your body.

You tried your best to have casual conversation, but god, was he making it hard.

“Hey, did you ever tell your parents about this?” He asked you randomly, you looking at him with a furrowed eyebrow. “Just out of curiosity. I know how they are.”

“Definitely not. They would kill me. They already think that anyone else with tattoos is ‘sent by the devil.’”

He chuckled, “heard that one before.”

You found yourself staring at his pillowy lips when he spoke, or his hands when he traced over the stencil carefully.

And once it was done, he gave you a fucking discount.

“Wait, whys it cheaper?” You asked him, looking at him with confusion on your face.

“I told you, you’re my favorite client. Plus, I can’t say I disliked the view I got during it.” He was getting bolder, a smirk making its way onto his face.

Cheeky motherfucker.

You tilted your head to the side with a little pout on your lips. “Are you sure? I feel bad.”

“I’m sure, princess.” He chuckled. “Just come back, yeah? Needa see you more.”

“Well, actually… if you want, I’m having this party next weekend… you know,” you shrugged, casually leaning over the counter. “My parents are out of town for a while.” You told him, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he raised his eyebrows at the invitation.

“Yeah?” He hummed out.

“Mhm.” You nodded, “you should come!”

“Oh, I definitely will.”

You smiled at him, leaning further over the counter to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you so much, Rafey!” You told him when you turned around to leave, waving bye to him.

“Anytime, angel!”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Fuck being nice to you

Tags: Nanami x Reader, nsfw, mdni, exhibitionism, cock worshipping

An: I’m thinking about either doing a part two or an alternate ending where Satoru ends up joining in 🤭

“Yn, this is ridiculous- Come out from under there… No, come on. Someone’s going to see you- You want me to…. Yn, darling, that’s too risky. I promise we can do whatever we want as soon as we’re home. Just let me.. Ngh~ fuck.. don’t… don’t look at me like that.. Oh.. my god, where did you learn that..? F-fuck… This is so… irresponsible- You’re going to.. ngh agh! .. pay for this, you little m-minx.”

That’s what Nanami sounded like as you climbed under his desk, begging to taste him while you two were at work. You had successfully undone his belt buckle, and pulled his length out from his boxers and slacks.

Nanami is such a handsome, well put together man. He always smelled so clean with an undertone of his woodsy cologne. He kept himself nicely groomed… everywhere. He wasn’t shaved completely because neither he nor you liked the look. So, he kept his blondish pubic hair trimmed down for you.

His dick was also just… pretty? You always thought that was impossible after your years of being sent unsolicited dick pics by disgusting men, but Nanami?? No, his cock was pretty, long, and cut. Along his shaft, he had one protruding vein that ran up the underside of his dick. His tip was thick and swollen. It was always such a pretty shade of red when you made him hard like this. When you held it in your hands, it was nice and heavy too. You wondered how he managed to walk with that thing.

You had pressed his cock up against your face, and you fluttered your eyes up to look at him while his length was nuzzled against your cheek. It was nearly bigger than your face for fucks sake. Nanami had no business keeping weapon like that on him.

Nanami’s face burned bright red as he told you not to look at him like that. You looked so pretty on your knees below his mahogany wooden desk. All he wanted to do was wreck you, but he tried to force those thoughts aside.

Nanami was a lover in bed. He loved to kiss on you, dote on you, rub on you, make you feel so so good. He cherished and respected your body wholeheartedly. He fucking loves you. But sometimes… on rare occasions, Nanami felt the sick intense need to just ruin you. ravage you. wreck you. use you. fuck you until he’s shooting blanks.

Seeing you look up at him all nice and pretty with his cock so blatantly pressed against your face just sent his brain into overdrive.

He let out small groans as you licked his tip, teasing the very sensitive portions of his length with your tongue. He held one of his hands over his mouth to mask some of his noises. You two were still in his office, and anyone could walk in at anytime. His other hand was grasping the back of your hair, entangling his fingers in your soft locks.

A gasp left his mouth as soon as he felt your plush lips wrap around his girthy length. The wet noises that left your mouth soon following were nothing short of pornstar worthy.

You had this grown ass man moaning, growling, and shaking with your mouth alone as you sucked, licked, and kissed all along his length. You were absolutely sloppy with it too. He was always clean and put together, and you just wanted to defile him.

A mixture of your spit and his precum was gathered at the base of his length from you bobbing your head up and down. Spit trickled down his balls, and you used your hand to cup them.

“You’re so f..fucking good at this..” He groaned lowly as he kept his eyes on you. It was like watching an artist at work. “So fucking perfect… my good girl.” He cooed as he petted your head, still trying to repress the thoughts of making you his fucktoy.

His praise only seemed to make you work harder for him, swallowing and gagging around his length. You would hum and whine from the discomfort, sending vibrations up his cock. Small tears involuntarily dripped down your cheeks.

Gods, he was so fucking torn. On one hand, he wanted to wipe your tears away and tell you to be gentle with yourself. On the other, he wanted to yank your hair and make you take more of him. In his intoxicated state, he ended up doing both.

���Don’t push yourself too hard.” He chided as he forced his length down your throat.

He sounded like an absolute asshole.

If your mouth wasn’t full of cock, you’d probably giggle at his little blunder.

He was close. so fucking close. He could feel his balls tightening as he started to rut his hips upward, making you take more of him in at his pace.

So close. He was right on the edge when his office door opened.

Violence was a necessary part of Nanami’s career. He didn’t ever search it out by picking fights with people. He actually didn’t even enjoy confrontation all too much, but he wanted to fucking kill whoever was daring to interrupt his moment with you.

Nanami’s eye visibly twitch when none other than Satoru Gojo walked into his office. He was not in the mood, and he was all out of patience right now for the white-haired man.

Now, your sweet husband assumed you’d.. you know… pause your sucking while his coworker friend? was in the room. Unfortunately for him, he was unaware of your sick and twisted sense of humor.

“Nanami~” Satoru’s voice drawled in a whine as he dramatically flopped himself over the back of the chair across from Nanami’s desk.

“What is it-“ Nanami’s eyes almost rolled back into his head as you slowly took his length back into your mouth. “-Gojo?” He added as he gripped the sides of his chair tightly. His veiny hand was red, and his knuckles were turning white.

“Someone ate my dessert in the break room.” Satoru dramatically whined again. “Who would do such a thing? I’m wanting to launch an investigation.”

“Are you seriously bothering me about this right now?” Nanami hissed in a more vicious tone than he normally used. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he needed Satoru to just fuck off right now.

You swallowed his length, trying to be semi-quiet about it, but there was some wet noises. Nanami quickly coughed and shifted around in his seat. You were going to pay for this.

“Why are you so grumpy, Nanamin?” Satoru asked, unfazed by Nanami’s harsh tone. He was used to it by now. The white haired male cocked and eyebrow and lazily smirked at your husband. “Wife problems already?” He taunted.

Oh yeah, Nanami had a wife problem alright. His problem was that his wife was on her knees practically begging to be fucked.

“What do you know about-“ Nanami coughed loudly again to prevent from moaning as your tongue swirled around his tip. “- wife problems?”

“Uh… Nanamin, are you okay?” Satoru asked as he tilted his head to the side.

“Yeah.. yeah.. Actually- no, I think I’m falling ill. I think you should g-go now… I don’t want to contaminate you..” You didn’t know your husband could be such a filthy liar, but here he was. His voice was breathy and needy. He was nearly panting in front of his coworker.

“Oh- Oh ew.” Satoru’s face twisted in disgust as he hated getting sick. “Text me if you need anything, Nanamin.” He said as he promptly left the room.

As soon as Gojo was gone, Nanami rolled back in his chair quickly so he could get a good look at you.

“C’mere.” He grunted as he grabbed you by your blouse. He stood up out of his chair, pulling you to your feet.

He spun you, so his chest was against your back, and he carefully tread his hands up your sides, feeling up your curves that your pencil skirt didn’t bother to hide in the slightest.

He then gently tugged your hair back, causing for you to lean your head back into his shoulder with a small yelp. His lips ghosted over your ear. “Did you have fun making me look like a mess in front of Gojo, hm?”

You’re such a brat sometimes. You nod your head and let out a small giggle, remembering Nanami stuttering over his words and shaking while you sucked him off under the desk.

“Yeah? Was it funny?” He asked as his hand pressed to the center of your back, and he bent you over his desk. “You want to act like a whore so badly; I might as well fuck you like one, isn’t that right baby?” He purred into your ear, making your eyes widen. Nanami had never spoken to you like that before in the past. You didn’t even know he was capable of degrading you.

You fucked up.

Nanami curses as he looks at your plush ass against his bare cock. He’s carefully rutting it against your backside while he’s intoxicated by the way his cock looks buried between your clothed cheeks.

“Ken~” You moan as you arch your back up off the desk a bit more.

“Shut up.” He demands lowly. He can’t hear your whiny voice right now while he’s trying to hold whatever sliver of self restraint he has left.

“Mmnnph.. p-please..” Your whimper sends him over the edge.

“Fuck being nice to you.” He growls lowly as he pushes your tight skirt up and over your ass. He marvels at how pretty you look, bent over his desk like this.

Slap!

His hand forcibly connects with your bottom, causing you to jolt forward from surprise. A small whimper escaped your mouth. “T-too loud..”

“You didn’t seem to care earlier when Satoru was in the room. Is it different when he’s the one hearing you slurping?” He taunts lowly, and he gives your ass another firm spank.

“N-no!” You whine out.

“You wanted him to hear you, didn’t you?” Your husband growls as he swats you again.

“No, I-I just wanted t-to make you feel good.” You’re practically searching for friction on his desk. The ache deep inside you feels like torture. You raise your hips again, hoping Nanami will finally just take you.

Your words tug at his heartstrings a bit. Deciding you’ve had enough punishment, he pulls your panties down around your ankles. He carefully presses his fingertips to your warm, wet heat, and he groans from the feeling.

“You’re this wet from sucking me and getting spanked?” God, you’re a national treasure to him. So perfect in every way.

You weakly nod and hum in approval. You try to push back on his fingers, but they were already gone. The sound of clothes shuffling filled the room as Nanami pushed his pants and boxers further down his thighs for easier access.

He looks down at you with a barely noticeable smirk as your displayed so prettily for him over his desk. His wife’s pretty cunt was practically begging to be fucked, and who was he to deny her that pleasure?

A small grunt escapes his mouth as he aligns himself with your dripping entrance. He feels a bit of resistance against his cock that normally isn’t there. He normally preps you a lot more, given that he knows his size can be uncomfortable if not properly prepared.

“Ken.. ngh.. p-prep?” You breathily ask as you drag your hips upward, presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat.

“No, I want you to feel this, baby.” He lowly coos before burying himself to the hilt deep inside of you. Your fingernails claw at the desk, and tears spring into your eyes involuntarily.

“F-fuck!” You whimper out, trying to hold yourself together.

Nanami lets out a quiet groan from the feeling. You’re squeezing him so perfectly right now. His hands trap you against the desk, and he pulls all the way until just his tip is in before pushing back inside forcefully. He repeats this motion a few times, making you feel every inch of him. You did this to him. You asked for this.

Small whiny gasps and moans fled your mouth. You tried to be quiet. You really did, but it was so hard when he was fucking you so deliciously from behind, making your cunt squelch with each forceful thrust.

“I hope he comes back and sees you like this.” Nanami growls lowly in your ear. “.. sees my pretty wife.. ngh fuck! .. taking my cock so well..”

His words literally have you hypnotized. The thought of someone walking in was frightening yet erotic at the same time.

“I wouldn’t stop either.” He goes on as his hips clap against your ass. “I’d let him watch how I fuck my wife.”

“Ken~” You whine from his vulgar words. You’re practically seeing stars as he hits all the right places. He knows you like the back of his hand. He knows just how you like to be fucked.

As you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, Nanami growls from the look on your face. You look so fucked out and cock drunk already. He can’t hold back anymore.

His grasp on your hips is nearly bruising as he pounds himself into you, not caring about the noise. The desk creaks and scrapes against the ground with each powerful thrust. You try to keep yourself together as he fucks you into oblivion, but your body is nothing but a puddle.

“F-fuck~! Ken, I- .. cumming..” You barely manage to warn him before you’re spasming on his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm until you’re panting and whimpering against his desk. You weakly try to sit up, but his large hand catches your shoulder and forces you back down.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He lowly growls as he resumes his harsh thrusts. Your hands grab at the desk tightly, and your eyes screw shut as your poor cunt is so sensitive.

“Fucking… ah~ fucking take it, slut.” He demands as he rails you from behind. His thrusts are growing erratic and uncoordinated. He’s so close for the second time. He leans down over your back, and he bites down on your shoulder harshly before pumping you full of his cum. Your sloppy hole clenches around him as you find your second orgasm. Something about Nanami taking what’s his just really did it for you.

Slowly, he releases your shoulder from his teeth, and he presses soft kisses into the bite mark. “Are you okay, my love?” His adoring tone his back.

“‘m perfect..” You mumble quietly, on cloud 9 from receiving the best dick of your life.

“That you are, darling. So perfect.” He praises as he trails his kisses up the side of your neck. “I love you so much. You’re such a good wife.” His lips press against your jaw and cheek. “and a good girl too.”

“So, I’m not a slut?” You ask with a small giggle, remembering how he degraded you for the first time earlier.

“You’re my slut.” He quietly corrects with a soft chuckle. He then quietly hisses as he pulls out of you. He watches as some of his cum trickles down your swollen cunt. “So pretty.” He murmurs quietly as he leans into your heat and presses a small kiss to your sensitive folds, making you shiver.

“You’re not going to get any work done at this rate, Nanamin.” You playfully chide as you bite your bottom lip, silently hoping he’ll kiss your cunt again.

“Fuck that work.” He grumbles lowly before pressing another wet kiss against your core as you tremble before him.

He didn’t get any work done that day.

tags: @theuniversesnepobaby @lemonlimecrystal-blog

[on-the-clear-blue]

Tim walking into the dining room: Oh B, i just realized, happy 5 years sober, I am really proud of you.

Bruce, small smile and sipping his tea: Thank you Tim.

Dick, looking up confused from his bowl of cereal: What? Sober? Weren't you drinking last night at the gala?

Bruce, brows furrowed: Not from alcohol, Chum.

Tim, after downing his cup of coffee: Damn you didn't know? It was cocain. B was on that booger sugar.

Bruce, making a face: Please, never call it that again.

Dick, after his brain rebooted: You...you did cocain?

Bruce sighing :Yes I did...I though you knew.

Dick, abandoning his bowl of cereal: No, no I very much didn't! How did you...like get into that?

Tim: Dick take it down a notch, please? Bruce has been clean for years.

Bruce, shaking his head: It's fine Tim, I should have been more up front with this to the others.

Dick, with his head tilted and still a bit upset: Others? You mean only Tim knew?

Bruce, nodding: He caught me taking a key from one of Penguins supply when he was Robin and forced me to confess, I went to rehab a week later.

Dick, sitting back down in a stupor: Wait...You mean the thing when you were gone for like a few months? I thought you were on a deep space mission with the league! Hell, Uncle Clark even said so!

Bruce, wincing: Y-Yes...I was in a treatment center in Sweden...Tim found them and signed me up without telling me, and had Clark take me there...

Bruce side eyeing Tim: Took my Kryptonite before doing so...and my stash.

Tim, unapologetic, shrugging: Mom used the same place when she was getting off of Quaaludes.

Bruce, shrunching his nose: Never did like downers, made it harder to think.

Dick, having a mental breakdown: So you just...did drugs? For like a while? When did this even start?

Bruce, silent for a while, moving his breakfast around for a moment: It started when I was about...16? When I was in the club scene for a bit I got wild, taking pills and such that I didn't need, it was the 80s, blow was all the rage with the youth in higher circles and...well one thing lead to another and I got hooked.

Dick, holding his head in his hands: Oh my God...Wait.. Were you actively doing drugs when you adopted me???

Bruce, groaning: Yes...Didn't it ever seem strange that sometimes I was very lively and then suddenly was practically dead an hour later before getting back to lively?

Dick, horror coming across his face: Oh my God the signs...

Tim, chuckling: B was a God damn drug fiend, practically snorted half of Columbia.

Bruce, looking scandalized: Tim! I was not that bad...

Tim staring at Bruce:

Bruce staring back:

Bruce, sighing: Fine yes it was that bad.

Dick: uninhorant screeching

Bruce, tsking: I quit a few years after taking you in Chum, I only relapsed when Jason...temporarily passed...and that was only for at most a year, Tim found me out, sent me to rehab and while I have had a few scares, I have been sober for years.

Dick: Happy for you, really but holy fuck.

Tim, snorting: It wasn't the first time I caught you B, imagine little old 10 year old me following Batman and Robin and stumbling across the Dark Knight of Gotham doing a line on a gargoyle while Robin beat the shit out of the dealers below.

Dick, agape: Really Bruce? Do you even remember that?

Bruce, Blushing: i...may have done that more than once...

Dick, crying on the inside: BRUCE?!

Jason, walking in with a smoothie: Oh what are we yelling at B for? I want in.

Dick, wildly pointing at Bruce: BATMAN DID COCAIN.

Jason, slowly taking a drag from his smoothie, before turning to Bruce: w h a t?

Bruce, hiding his face in his hands, sullenly: I trained you all better than this. Yes I did drugs, I am 5 years sober.

Jason, softly putting his smoothie down before walking over to Bruce and patting his shoulder: Proud of you for that, like actually good job, holy shit that is hard. But also WHAT THE FUCK.

Bruce, sighing hard: I thought you all knew...

Jason flopping down in a chair, counting on his fingers: Wait a God damn minute, you got on my case for smoking while doing cocain!

Bruce, dead panned: it's a gate way to much harder things.

Jason, squinting: Who are you D.A.R.E?

Tim, cackling: he was! Did a whole speech about it! Full Batman regalia and was talking about how weed is bad!

Bruce glaring lightly at Tim: It is! It can cause lung damage, a build up of black tar in the lungs and can dull your mind when you are in a tike of crisis!

Jason, rolling his eyes: B, Shut the fuck up you did cocain.

Bruce, sighing yet again: You really are not letting that go are you...

Tim, sipping his coffee: Think of it like this, there is a reason B was able to get back to fighting like a week after Bane broke his back.

Bruce, pursing his lips,: Not the time Tim.

Tim, grinning evilly: Oh no, it is very much the time, I have been waiting till the others knew...I have so many blackmail stories....and pictures

Bruce, a look of true fear on his face: Oh God no...

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 hushed fantasies ¡

pairing brother's best friend¡nicholas chavez x fem¡reader

summary thinking you were messaging your friend, you accidentally sent your brother's best friend a thirsty paragraph about him, with Nicholas opening it before you get a chance to delete it. what you were not expecting was the leading conversation, causing realization to wash over you as he hints your desire is not one-sided after all.

contains suggestive, sexual tension, a bit of dirty talking, a brief kiss, flustered reader, cocky nic, hes also very freaky (uhh???)

a/n this is the silliest thing ive ever written i was giggling the whole time while writing it. likes and reblogs are v much appreciated!!!

word count 1.7k

You: the amount of self control i have is insane because why do i not have this mans dick in my mouth rn please i need nic so fucking bad its not even funny anymore he is everything i want in life id let him use me any day morning afternoon n night im available ugh i dont even get the ick when its him he was acting like a dad earlier yelling at us to grill the meat right and it was so adorable ill call you daddy u want me to call u sir i dont kink shame im down for whatever king omg stop he got hurt earlier and he GROANED???? i almost fell to my knees YAHOOO he definitely whimpers #needthat 10/10 i just know its thick ooh tip pink shade #d97e77 thats insane till my knees are bruised and my throats scratched my panties fell tears are rolling down my thighs OMG PLS can you feel my pain hes so bodangshis how does my brother look at him and not wanna fuck him id be all over him if that was my friend gahhhd!!! hes actually so sweet he kept speaking to me earlier so i dont feel left out of the conversation and i find that adorable do u think he slaps it before he cums oh my his girlfriends so lucky im ab to put her in a headlock ahaha this is gross no man should have this much of an impact on u unless their dick is big and the sex is absolutely amazing yooo what he probably knows how to please a lady id be hard if i had a dick rn STOPP he has a happy trail im gonna lose it hahah lets find out where it leads i dont wanna think ab that im going crazy literally pulling my hair out that should be u baby GIVE ME A CHANCE?!!!! thinking ab him makes me so nervous this is getting a little too srs ahaha okay im sorry hows life?!? i miss u :(

Sending that message, you were anything but expecting the response you got in return, not from the man himself, that’s for sure.

nic: oh?

nic: i think you got the wrong person

You audibly gasp, realization washing over you as you read over the message. That was, in fact, not for Nicholas, nor was it for anyone but your friend to see.

You panic, putting your phone down to process what happened, needing a moment before responding. Right, you needed to do that.

But why did he see it so fast? He didn't even give you time to comprehend your message, the text switching to read in an instant.

Hell, it was midnight, and it’s been a long, tiring day for the both of you, having been out the whole afternoon, merely to come back to the hotel and spend more time with your other friends.

Everyone decided to end the night off early; early being a bit before midnight, with you heading to your room afterwards. Your brother and his best friend shared the room taking place next to yours, making it easy to reach out to him.

And for that, you were grateful since Nicholas was with him; meaning you got to see more of him throughout this trip.

You’ve had a crush on Nicholas for god knows how long, with it starting the moment your brother befriended him. You’ve technically gone through all the phases he experienced, hell, you saw him more than your own parents.

He was sweet, a little too sweet, perhaps it bothered you. Nicholas was very known among women, he knew how to attract a lady, showering her with praises until he eventually got what he wanted.

That made you extremely jealous, knowing you couldn't have him. He was forbidden, off-limits, someone you could only admire from afar.

And that stupid crush of yours led to this conversation, one you didn't want to discuss.

You: i didnt mean to send that to you

The text switched from delivered to read right away, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

nic: clearly

nic: i dont have a gf btw

Why did he feel the need to clarify that, and why were you relieved over hearing it?

You buried your face in your pillow, feeling heat reduce from your body. You’ve never been this embarrassed before, not around Nicholas. While you were weird sometimes, it was never this bad.

He wasn't supposed to know about this, nor discover it the way he did.

You: cover your eyes pls

You: this wasn't for u

nic: you sure?

nic: are there any other nics in your life?

Your stomach twisted at the message, hand coming up to cover your mouth as an audible gasp escaped your throat. How could he say that?

You felt all sorts of emotions wash over you, unable to process each one of them as you read the message over and over again.

You: what if there is

The question was risky, it could either end with him telling your brother, or him teasing you over it and brushing it off. Either way, you couldn't have him, so why not just fuck it and go with the flow?

nic: then that would be disappointing.

Your breath caught in your throat, vision going blurry as Nicholas’ bubble kept appearing and disappearing.

nic: id really hate that you feel this way about someone else

Oh my god, were you dreaming?

You could not believe your eyes. You turned off your phone, letting the dimness of the room seep through for a moment before you unlocked your device once again, heart skipping a beat when you realized it was real.

Nicholas, your brother’s best friend, might have been flirting with you, but that’s just in your head, right…?

You: ??? wdym

nic: you first

nic: was this about me, doll?

The pet name made you weak to your core, spiraling you over the edge as you put your phone down for a second. You took a deep breath, feeling your face heat up at how suggestive the boy sounded.

He sounded so desperate, you weren't sure if it was the tiredness, or him being genuine. Either way, you’re fucked, because you’re willing to do anything for him, even if it means breaking your heart.

You: what if it was

You: what will you do ab it

You felt nauseous as you waited for a response, groaning when the boy disappeared for a minute. Did you say something wrong? Why did he suddenly leave?

nic: then id risk it all

Speechless. Your mouth hung open, chest filling with lust as a breath heaved out of you.

You: are you saying this because you’re tired

nic: no

nic: god no

There was no ounce of self control in your body left. You almost screamed, overwhelmed by a new sense of emotions.

Is this how it felt? Because fucking hell.

You: it is

nic: it is what?

You: this is so embarrassing

You: why are you making me admit it you know exactly what im talking about

nic: baby

nic: jus tell me

You: no you suck im going to sleep

nic: WAIT no come here youre so cute

You blushed at the message, unable to suppress the smile forming on your lips. God, he’s such an idiot. And you were totally swooned for him.

You: i literally just sent you a message talking ab how much i wanna suck your dick what about that is cute

nic: oh? so you do admit it

You: …

You felt nervous, realizing how serious this has gotten. From a silly message turned into you contemplating whether this was a good idea. The last thing you were anticipating while typing that message was a confrontation, one from Nicholas; at that.

nic: you couldve told me yk

You: do you hear yourself

nic: ? what

You: nic you know this is wrong

You: youre gonna wake up tmr and forget all ab it

nic: you knkw

nic: yoirw so fucjinf hot

You came to a halt, noticing the amount of mistakes the boy was making. Your mind wandered somewhere else, feeling heat crawl past your neck, all the way to your face.

You: what are you saying

nic: fucking hell

nic: take the hint baby

You froze in your spot, tongue coming out to wet your lips, suddenly feeling heat travel to in between your legs. Don’t give in, don't give in, don’t give in.

You: what

nic: you couldve asked me if you were curious

nic: i wouldve happily showed you

That sent you over the edge. Your mind went fuzzy, unable to process the last few texts you received from Nicholas. He was being serious, dead serious, you were sure of that.

The texts you exchanged always revolved around your brother; usually Nicholas asking whether he was home or not. However, this one was different.

He was hinting something, something very risky that you were unable to resist.

You: dont say that

nic: what, you don't believe me?

You: nic

nic: give me five

You stared at the message on the screen, confused on what he meant. Your eyebrows furrowed with puzzlement, awaiting a message, merely to get nothing in return.

As you were about to shut your phone and go to sleep, it pinged, the notification startling you awake. You clicked on it immediately, mind going hazy as you read the message over and over again.

nic: open the door

nic: im outside your room

You didn’t hesitate as you got up, swiftly walking your way to the door. You unlocked it with haste, vision going blurry as you caught sight of Nicholas, who was standing inches away from you now.

He looked just as desperate as you were, maybe even more. And that was it, it was all you needed to pull him by the collar and cease the distance between you two.

The moment his lips collided with yours, you realized that maybe it’s worth ending up with a broken heart, because Nicholas tastes fucking addicting, and you found every way to make good use out of that obsession.

The possession of knowing he’s off limits, yet here he was, eagerly kissing you numb.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Buzzing With Excitement

Eddie Munson x inexperience!fem!reader

summary: Eddie is more than eager to show you a whole different side of sex after you break up with Steve

cw: MDNI (18+) fingering, use of vibrator, oral (f receiving) Eddie likes to be called daddy

part one part three part four

Ever since that one time in Eddie’s trailer, you hadn’t seen him. You had been afraid to, still feeling like that shy girl you had once been. You had thought you’d gotten through that with Steve, but it seemed like after sleeping with Eddie, you just shrunk back into yourself. 

And you found yourself always so horny for him, needing to fuck him as soon as you got home from work, your vibrator no longer doing the trick. You needed to feel him inside you, cheering you on as you took him well, telling you that you were nothing but a good girl. 

So, when you got desperate, you texted him, reading over your message more times than you could count and felt a pit in your stomach when you saw that he had read it. 

All you had said was “I need you.” So that concerned Eddie, the gears turning in his head as he continued to work on the car in front of him, wondering what you could have possibly meant by that. 

It could have either been a really emergency or maybe you had been wanting him to come over for a part two of what you had gotten up to at his trailer. Since you hadn’t reached out to him, he was beginning to think that maybe that he maybe you hadn’t enjoyed yourself or that he had taken it too far. And now he felt guilty about it, wondering how he could have possibly made it better. 

So, when he had a chance to reply, he told you that he was going to stop by on his way home from work. And when he was sitting in his van on his break, he was surprised to get that photo from you and was very glad that he had been alone. He couldn’t have imagined what would have happened if he had opened it while he was in the break room. 

You were standing in front of your mirror wearing nothing but your underwear, another lingerie set, but this one was bright red and more sheer, leaving practically nothing to the imagination. 

And you had the audacity to follow that up with “Are you sure you can’t leave work early?” Eddie could practically hear your whiny voice and was trying really hard not to think about how badly he wanted you. He had to go back inside any minute and he couldn’t very well go in there bricked up. 

So he immediately closed out the messaging app and tried to distract himself by doing anything he could to stop thinking about that picture. Now he really was considering leaving early. He had never left work because of a hookup so he didn’t know why you were any different. 

And of course, because the universe seemed to hate him, he wasn’t able to get out early and his boss seemed offended that he would even ask such a thing. As if he would have been affected personally by him leaving twenty minutes early. 

So after he was off the clock, he hurried to your apartment building, driving way faster than he should have been as that photo you had sent him had been burned into his brain. 

He swore he had never been more horny in his life and was practically cumming in his pants as he thought about all of the things he was going to do to you. He could practically hear your loud moans in his ears and he was close to flooring it so he could get to you quicker. 

Once he got to your building, you buzzed him in and he practically ran to the elevators, trying his best to hide is very hard cock as he pressed the button that would bring the elevator down repeatedly. He was eager to see you and get the show on the road or he was going to have a very big mess in his pants. 

The elevator finally opened and he stepped inside, pressing the button that would take him to your floor and suddenly, he was nervous. He had slept with more woman that he could count, but there was something different about you. Maybe it was because other women had more experience and he was just looking forward to showing you a whole other side of sex you had never seen before. 

Once the door opened on your floor, Eddie all but sprinted to your door and knocked feverishly, pressing himself against the door so anyone who happened to be in the hallway couldn’t see his hard on. In record speed, the door was ripped open and you were there in the lingerie set you were wearing in the picture you had sent him. You looked even better in person somehow and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, to take it all off and let his hands roman over your naked body. 

Without a word, you pulled him inside and pushed him up against the door, pressing your lips to his in a rough kiss. His tongue was quick to flick into your mouth and you took it into your mouth, giving a suck. The whole thing caused Eddie to whine and that made you even more wet than you already had been. His hand moved down to your cunt only to find that there was a space where there should have been fabric. 

“Doll, are you..wearing crotchless panties?” 

“Maybe,” you replied, batting your eyelashes, knowing exactly what it did. It seemed that the student was already becoming the master and Eddie had no problem with that. “What are you going to do about it?” 

“What do you want me to do?” You responded by grabbing hold of his hand and pressing his two middle fingers together before guiding them to the open spot in your underwear, shoving them inside you, causing you to moan at the sensation. You grabbed onto Eddie’s arms as his fingers pumped in and out, slowly, then so fast that you could barely keep up. 

“Feels so good,” you moaned. “Been waiting for this all day.”

“Yeah?” He asked. “Well, it was the least I could do since you were so kind as to send that picture.”

“You liked it?” He grabbed your hand and guided it to rest on his cock that was tenting in his pants and you gasped as you realized that you were holding. 

“Does that answer your question, princess? Now hush. Let daddy work, okay?” 

His fingers moved even faster and harder and you felt your legs becoming weak, knowing that you were going to collapse at any second. Eddie quickly removed his fingers then wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. He then took his fingers and brought them to his mouth so slowly, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so. He put them between his lips and began to lick and suck your slick from them, moaning dramatically as he did so, wanting you to know just how good you tasted. 

You watched him mouth agape, hating how he knew exactly what to do to make you want him. To drive you absolutely crazy with how horny you were. 

“Let’s go to your room, hm?” He asked, as his other arm wrapped around your waist and you held onto him, feeling your knees getting even more weak. “Can’t walk already?” He chuckled. “Alright, c’mon.” Eddie grabbed hold of the backs of your thighs before bending down and throwing you over his shoulder, falling in love with the giggles that escaped your lips as he carried you to your bedroom. 

The door burst open and before you knew it, he was throwing you onto the bed and just when he was about to pull a condom out of his pocket, he noticed something at the end of the bed. It was shaped like a microphone, but he knew exactly what it was as he had used that exact model as well as others on women. 

Making eye contact with you, he slowly reached for it before turning it on, the buzzing sound filling the room. You watched him as he slowly inched it towards your cunt, quickly pressing it to your clit just like you had done so many time before, but this time, it was different, there was much more pressure and the buzzing sensation felt more intense. And you would have been lying if you said you didn't like it.

"So good, Eddie," you whined and he moved the vibrator to different spots to see what you liked best and it seemed like you weren't picky, eating up anything he'd give you. And he had a strange feeling as you reacted to the buzzing feeling, moan after moan falling from your lips.

He was feeling jealous. Jealous of a vibrator. He wanted to be the one to make you feel that way. The one to make you moan. He was beginning to regret his decision, but he wasn't going to deny you pleasure. At least, not right then.

As if answering his prayers, you pushed the vibrator away and sat up, grabbing onto his arms, pulling him down to your height. Your lips crashed to his and your hands moved into his hair, giving it a tug and he moaned in response.

"Don't start something you can't finish, doll," he said as he pulled away, but you just smirked devilishly.

"Oh, I intend on finishing. Now are you going to make use of the underwear I wore for you or not?"

"You're acting like a real brat."

"Yeah? You gonna punish me for it?"

"Not right now. Now lie back. Need to taste you." Eddie pushed you back onto the bed and you were more than happy to comply, feeling like you were going to bust after hours of not being stimulated in the way you needed.

You lied flat on the bed and got onto his knees in front of you, spreading your legs slowly before looking down at your sopping wet cunt to see what he was working with. And the crotchless panties were doing it for him. He could see you perfectly and now he didn't have to waste any time by removing the garment from you.

Eddie draped your legs over his shoulders and took no time to dive in, heading straight for your clit, knowing that he definitely needed some love considering that other men you had been with most like couldn't find it. His lips wrapped around it and suckled at it lightly before going at it, licking and sucking on it and he could tell that you were enjoying it by the way your fingers were threading through his hair once again.

"Oh my god," you whined and Eddie had to fight back a smile in reaction to how you were already eating it up. He continued to lick and suck even harder and you moaned loudly in response, your heels digging into his back as you did so, your thighs pressing against his head.

He moved lower to your slit and let his teeth glide across the spot, loving to hear you mewl in response. He took that as an invitation to continue, doing to motion over and over, feeling you tug onto his curls to show him how much he was enjoying it. To diffuse the sting, he swirled his tongue around the spot, pulling away for only a second to be complimentary.

"Yeah, just like that," he encouraged you. "Can you make that sound again for daddy?" He went back in for more, continuing to let his teeth graze against your clit and you made the sound over and over, already feeling spent even though ht had barely even done anything.

"Doing so well, doll," he told you as he hands squeezed your thighs gently. "Taste so good too. Swear you're going to be the death of me. No c'mon moan so more for daddy. Can see you're already close. Think you can get there?"

"Yes," you replied through labored breaths and Eddie shoved his face into your cunt once again.

You stayed like that for hours, Eddie making you come over and over again as he encouraged you the entire time, making you feel nothing but good with his head between your thighs. After you had come down from your last orgasm, Eddie reluctantly pulled away from you and wiped his face off with his shirt before moving to hover over you, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

"You gonna be okay if I leave?" He asked, his voice suddenly soft.

"You're leaving?"

"Don't have any pajamas. Hey, don't pout," he kissed your lips again, letting his thumb glide across the spot between your eyebrows, trying to smooth out the furrow between them.

"You could just...sleep in your boxers."

"Just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"Never," you shook your head. "I'll make you breakfast in the morning."

"Alright, you sold me." Eddie was quick to strip down to his underwear and then he quickly climbed into the bed next to you before pulling you to his chest, whispering about how good of a girl you were before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

[fyodior]

IM NOT ONE OF THOSE CRAZY GIRLS.

pairing: chuuya x afab reader (no gendered terms used)

cw: sex pollen trope :3 horny nonsense, F and M masturbation, riding, creampie, pm!reader. MINORS DNI

wc: 1.9k

It had been a mission just like any other mission - some, now formerly, Port Mafia-associated grunts had been dealing arms behind their backs, and you and Chuuya had been sent to swiftly and quietly take care of them. It’s what the two of you did best - swift, quick, quiet. Silence those who need to be silenced, force confessions out of those who need to talk. The two of you were the most highly coveted and revered duo in the PM for your abilities, supernatural and otherwise. 

Something… odd had happened during this one, though. One of them had an ability of some sort, of which he had been trying to activate when Chuuya promptly eliminated him. You had noticed something shimmering in the air around him, but you truly didn’t think twice about it, considering the commotion had kicked up a lot of dust in the old warehouse. But now, sitting in the back of the car next to Chuuya on the way back to headquarters, you’re starting to wonder if his ability had been activated by the time Chuuya had killed him. Because this very odd feeling in your body is surely not normal.

Beads of sweat gather on your upper lip and forehead as your breath quickens, and you can feel your face burning. A sour, swirling feeling in your gut is making you feel sick, and every square inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire, making your vision blur. And worse? You’re so fucking horny you can barely see straight, the throbbing in your pussy barely quelled by squeezing your thighs together. 

“Chuu, I’m not, uh,” you gulp, struggling to get the words out. “I’m not feeling great.” 

When he doesn’t respond, you look over to find him in worse shape than you. His normally pale cheeks are cherry red, sweat dripping down his forehead and matting his ginger hair to the sides of his face. Chest heaving, it seems like he’s gasping for air, and, wait - is he whimpering? When your eyes trail down his slim body, you spot the final confirmation needed to know that he’s in the same boat you are - he’s rock fucking hard, a clear outline of his dick painfully obvious in his slacks. 

“ ‘m not feelin’ great either,” he grunts, words shaky. He tries to cross his legs but yelps, even the slight amount of friction clearly too overwhelming. 

Never in your life have you felt this aggressively aroused, to the point where it’s damn near painful. At this point, all you can think about is touching yourself, and getting something inside you. 

“How much longer ‘til we’re back to headquarters?” your words are stunted, dripping with desperation. 

Chuuya checks his phone, hand shaking. “Thirty minutes.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you whine, burying your face in your hands. 

It’s clear that both of you are feeling it, but neither of you are able to admit it. Not until Chuuya finally breaks. 

“I- fuck- I gotta come so bad before I fucking pass out,” he grunts.

Your eyes go wide at the statement - Chuuya was usually such a composed, disciplined man, that seeing him in such a frazzled, desperate state is shocking, and a testament to the potency of… whatever this is. But honestly, you can’t blame him. Instead, your mouth waters as he fumbles with his leather belt, unzipping his slacks and pulling out his thick cock. 

A hearty groan tumbles past his lips as he wraps a hand around his throbbing cock, pre already leaking out of the angry red tip. His left hand digs into the leather of the seat while he pumps his fist up and down his length, angling his body away from you as a last ditch effort to preserve his dignity, but it’s no use. 

“Fuck- sorry, sorry,” are the only words he can get out, jerking himself off faster and faster.

You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath this whole time until your body finally forces you to release it. Chuuya and you had never been anywhere near an item, had never shared anything more but alcohol induced lustful eye contact during work events, but it would be a bold-faced lie to say you had never thought of him like that. But how could anyone blame you? It’s Chuuya. So the fact that the man is jerking off mere inches from you is… overwhelming to say the least. And is only worsening the ache between your own thighs. 

In a haze, you undo your own pants before shoving a hand inside, even the feather light pressure against your clit making you yelp. But, fuck, even the half-second of stimulation had your hips bucking, begging for more. With no other choice, you give in to your altered self’s demands, massaging your clit frantically and haphazardly. The groans and moans you let out are completely involuntary - you feel completely detached from who you are, what you are. The only thing you can think of at this point is how desperately you need to come. 

The problem is… it’s not happening. No matter how fast you massage circles around your throbbing clit, no matter how many fingers you shove inside your sopping cunt, it’s not enough. You’re getting close, close, close, right on the edge of reaching the release you so badly need, to be broken free from this obvious curse that’s been bestowed on the both of you, but it just won’t happen. And, looking at the man next to you, it’s clear he’s not faring any better. 

Chuuya’s all but given up, hands laying limp at his sides and head fallen back against the headrest as he pants, his still hard cock twitching in his lap. Your eyes flit between his face and his cock.

“Is it…”

“It’s not fucking working,” he grits, teeth clenched and eyebrows knitted together. The man is miserable. 

But maybe… Maybe the answer is each other? Maybe to break this curse, to undo this ability, you have to fuck someone else? It’d be a shit ability if you could just take care of it yourself… But proposing that to Chuuya? To the man you respect and revere so highly, a top executive at the Port Mafia, the man who could ruin your life and career in a second if you chose to jeopardize it like this… Fuck it.

“Maybe I could hel-”

“Please do,” he interrupts, pulling you in roughly and mashing your lips together. It’s all teeth and tongue and spit but all either of you can think about is how badly you need each other, how badly you need to be connected and to fucking come. Even through the haze of your curse, you still feel it. How Chuuya is doing the most to keep himself in check, doing his best to not crush you with his inhuman abilities, in the midst of a drunk-like state. Even at his worst, Chuuya is the most respectable man you know. 

A hand comes to wrap around his cock, but he stops you, gripping your wrist.

“Get on top,” he growls lowly, and you don’t need to be told twice. 

Shedding your pants in a frenzy, your heart races and your breath is ragged as you clamber onto his lap, wasting not even a second before you sink down onto his cock. Gravity does the work of fitting all of him inside you, and both of you let out broken, strangled grunts and moans of not only pleasure but relief. For the first time, it actually feels like a step has been taken towards relief. The answer had been there the whole time - each other.

The space is cramped in the backseat of this SUV, but neither of you could care less. Wrapping your hands around his neck, you use every ounce of strength you have in your thighs to bounce on his lap in time with his upward thrusts. It’s messy, haphazard, and both of you are just barely keeping it together.

Swift, quick, quiet has turned into sloppy, wet, horny. 

But god does it feel heavenly. It’s not just the curse that’s making this feel so damn good, Chuuya clearly knows what he’s doing - even if his game might be a little off currently. His thick cock is stretching your slick pussy deliciously, rubbing against each and every one of your sweet spots with every thrust. What he lacks in length he makes up for in motion, bucking his hips up into you at just the right angle to have you babbling a mixture of curse words and his name over and over. 

One of his hands snakes down between you, finding your clit and pressing against it - the sudden pressure makes you cry out, throwing your head back and clenching tight around his length, making the man hiss. 

“Feel good, yeah?” he smirks, rubbing small but quick circles around your neglected clit. 

“More,” is all you can manage, gripping his shoulders for better leverage as you ride him faster, desperate for the friction. The combination of his cock inside you and fingers massaging your clit finally has you reaching the climax you’ve been frantically chasing.

“C’mon, sweetheart, come for me,” Chuuya whispers against the shell of your ear as he fingers work rapidly against your sweetest spot. His words are suave and yet his voice still quivers, evidence of the fact that he’s still just as under the spell as you are.

“Y-you come too,” you stutter. “Us- both.” 

The broken sentence is barely out of your drooling mouth before your orgasm hits you like a fucking truck, and you cry out as it washes over you, feeling like electricity running through each and every one of your nerves. It’s a high you’ve never felt before, an ecstasy like no other.

The way you clenched and rut against him as you came has Chuuya following you not long after, spitting hot, thick ropes of come inside your pulsing cunt, but neither of you could care less. That’s a problem for a later date. Right now, both of you are just trying to come down from… whatever the hell that was.

Foreheads pressed together, both of you try hard to catch your breath, panting dramatically. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as you climb off his lap, his softening cock slipping out with a string of cum connecting the two of you. Things are slightly awkward as you do your best to shuffle back into your pants in the backseat of the car, and Chuuya makes sure to direct his gaze out the window, as if he wasn’t just balls deep in your pussy. 

It’s a given that neither of you can speak about it. It happened, it’s done, it’s over, you’ll return to being platonic work partners and pretend that this never, ever happened. And you’re fine with that, you really are. Until…

The tingling feeling is back. You’re getting hot all over, and your breath is quickening. And of course, the aching between your thighs. Looking over, and sure enough, Chuuya is already half-hard again. Fuck. The two of you make knowing eye contact. There’s only one direction this can go. Looking out the window, you’re minutes away from HQ.

“Your place or mine?”

[maiiuelle]

what if rafe and reader are more than friends but they didn’t really put a label on it and even top and kelce noticed but rafe still has the occasional hookup and one night when reader was js thinking abt stuff and then she realizes that shes inlove with rafe but when she came over to tannyhill to confess and rafe answered with his hair all messed up and him shirtless and he basically smelled like sex and when rafe asks why shes there she randomly just runs away and cries in her car while driving home so basically just angst (does that make sense idk)

you feel like your going crazy, standing at tannyhill’s front stoop twiddling your thumbs.

your relationship with rafe cameron is complicated; you’d almost call it a situationship, but you couldn’t put a label on it. you’d been going to all of his parties to serve as arm candy, posed with him at the golf course, and hooked up with him more than once. it’s beyond casual, but he has yet to pop the girlfriend question. even with his little commitment, you’d been finding it hard to keep your mind off of him — or rather, what the two of you had done together. you have to mean more to him than he’s letting on.

so, you knock on tannyhill’s giant glass front door again, biting your lip nervously as you look over the texts you’d already sent him to let him know you were coming.

“hey! just thinking ab u.. are u free tn? <3” you asked right after work, hopping in the shower in hopes you could head straight to his place after.

“busy. work shit. u free on friday?”

“oh idk. sucks we cant do tn, i miss u.” you followed your message with a picture of you sitting on your pink bedsheets, posing in the mirror to show off your silky pajamas. you thought he just needed a little convincing, but he didn’t respond.

“can u call me before bed? sorry, i know u said ur busy.”

by then it had been an hour or two, still no response from rafe. you were pacing around your room. all you wanted was to spend time with him, even if that meant lounging around while he works. anything would do, you just couldn’t stay away.

you came to the conclusion had to show him how much you care somehow, and what better way than to go to tannyhill and confess your love for him — it would be like a romance movie, he’d probably be exhausted from work and happy to see you by then!

“i’m sorry if this is sudden, i just feel like i really need to see you. i’ll just drop by for a second xoxo see u soon”

suddenly, the front door swings open, revealing a very disheveled rafe cameron. his bangs are a mess, sweaty and strewn across his forehead. his whole face is red, his lips swollen, and all he’s wearing are blue flannel pajama pants. you’d seen him like this before, pussy drunk and stumbling around a dark room. your heart deflates as he pushes open the front door, familiar blue eyes squinting at you through the night. “the fuck are you doing? you’re gonna wake up my fuckin’ dad.”

“work shit, huh? really, rafe?” you snap, looking him over completely disgusted. “what’re you d—”

“nah, nah. i told you i was busy — did i not?” he cuts you off, holding a finger in your face and grabbing your upper arm with the other hand, making you jump. “could’a kept yourself from all this if you just listened to me, right? right?” he jostles you, like he could shake a response out of you, but you’re frozen. he lets you go at the sight of your face, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “fuckin’ figures.”

“are you.. high?” you pull your knit cardigan tighter around your shoulders, tears already beginning to brim your waterline at the utter betrayal.

rafe recoils, acting overly offended to take the heat off his obvious cheating. “you’re gonna talk to me like that at my own goddamn house? do me a favor — go home, and i’ll think about callin’ you.”

“don’t bother. asshole.” you cry, turning away. the last glimmer of hope you have is snuffed out when you hear the glass door slam behind him, leaving you alone once again.

defeated, you retreat back to your car, wiping your tear stained cheeks pitifully. you should have known, rafe cameron is a player.

➺ do you…

⟡ hear out rafe’s apology

OR

⟡ tell jj what rafe did

[mojavebluez]

Russian roulette - the salesman x fem!reader (18)

Chapter 1

“Ah, there you are.” He says, a towering shadow standing before you. “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”

summary - he’d been following you for a while. When you finally find the courage to approach him, you wake up hours later in his apartment, tied up and completely at his mercy. He has one offer: a game of Russian roulette.

tags - gun play, age gap, kidnapping, bdsm, sub!reader, dom!salesman, sadomasochism, fingering, non-con, praise, degradation, forced insertion, no lube

a/n - I’m slightly ashamed but also not. There’s a bit of backstory so sorry to all you freaks that like skipping straight to the action.. I’ll do a part 2 if you guys enjoy it!!

Series masterlist

4.7k words

———————————————————————

You’d seen him before. Many times. This past month you’d noticed nearly 20 encounters. The first was on the subway a while back, when you had looked up to see him staring down at you with blank, empty eyes. An instant chill was sent down your spine. But he wasn’t like the usual subway perverts: he was put-together, well dressed and very, very handsome. He had an air of assurance about him and a strange sort of dominance that forced you to stare down at your feet - just to avoid meeting his eyes.

You’d barely given him another thought until, the next day, you saw him again. This time it was in a cafe. You had felt someone’s eyes on you and glanced around until you landed on him. He was sat across the room, a lonely white teacup in front of him. He had that same soulless look in his eyes, this time paired with a faint smile. It chilled you again. Was he following you? Or was it just coincidence?

It happened again. And again. Across the street, him standing there, or in supermarket aisles, or on subway cars. Always on subway cars. You debated approaching him, asking him why he was following you around. But sometimes, late at night, you would stare at the ceiling and think about him. His perfectly symmetrical features, crisp, laundered suits - you’d gotten lucky in the stalker lottery, that was for sure. The idea was ridiculous, anyway, people like you didn’t get stalkers. You were utterly normal, boring, even. Things like that only happened in movies.

It had finally come to a head when you went out one night with a couple friends. It was the end of the first semester, so you had all decided to go out and celebrate. Turns out, you may have celebrated too hard. You were somewhere between five and ten drinks (who was counting anyway?) when you caught sight of him across the bar. You slide off your stool, the faint protests of your friends drowned out by the thudding club music. You sway on your feet slightly as you approach him, which seemed to amuse him, a smirk playing on his lips.

Once you reach him he pats the stool in front of him with a wide palm. His eyes never leave yours. The drink in your system seems to swirl the features on his face slightly, but it was definitely him. He doesn’t have a glass beside him, but his briefcase is laid on the bar, its glossy surface reflecting the multicoloured club lights.

“I was waiting for you,” he says. His voice is thick and dark. You’d never heard it before. You had imagined what it sounded like, how he might’ve said your name. Or what it would be like if he whispered closely into your ear.

“Who- who are you?” You say clumsily, surprised at the sound of your own voice. It was a different you. Confident. Abrupt.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he replies, smiling faintly. His hand, very large and covered in spidering veins, is spread on his thigh. It’s an inviting gesture. You instinctively lean into him.

“I’ve seen you before,” you say, tilting your head, “on the subway. And in the coffee shop.”

“Correct,” he smirks, altering the symmetry of his features. But the smile never reaches his eyes.

“Are you stalking me?” You ask. You press a hand against the bar to steady yourself. Everything in the room, aside from him, mixes and bleeds into incoherent colours.

“You’re very drunk,” he states, the smile never leaving his face, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’m fine,” you wave a floppy hand at his face, but he abruptly catches your wrist in the air, his fingers like a vice. Your breath is caught in your throat at the pressure of his grip, draining all the blood until his fingers leave thick white marks on your skin.

“What are you-“

“Just relax,” he says, his voice a smooth purr in your ears, “I’m going to order us a drink.”

He lowers your hand, never letting go, and calls the bartender over. You can’t quite hear what he orders, but he holds up two fingers before turning back to you. Your head swims with alarm bells. The pain that floods your arm, mixed with the cold look in his eyes and your clear lack of personal autonomy - you’re very close to fight or flight altogether. He can see this. His mouth presses into a tight line and his grip on you, somehow, becomes even more firm.

“Please,” he says, but there is no pleading in his voice, “try to calm down.”

“Let go of me,” you squirm, pulling at his hand in an attempt to free yourself from his hold. He doesn’t even shift. If it came to it, you would be entirely at his mercy once he got his hands on you. The thought makes you freeze in your chair.

“That’s it. Much better. You’re a fast learner,” he loosens his hand and you sigh in relief.

The drinks arrive and he slides one over to you. His glass sits, untouched, as he urges you to take a sip of yours. You aren’t sure why, but something in his eyes makes you obey. Maybe it’s the satisfaction once you do - it fills you with a strange sort of feeling. You quite like pleasing him.

A few moments later, you try to stand up. “I need the bathroom.”

“Hm,” he says, watching you with uncertainty, “I’m not sure. You don’t look very well.”

“Exactly,” you say, stepping away. The floor seems to rise and fall like a wave beneath your feet. You stumble, but he catches you, his fingers spread across your abdomen.

“Let me help you,” he suggests, as though you could even object.

He leads you through the weaving crowds, all dancing and throwing their bodies around like rag dolls. You stare up at him, the curve of his features haloed by the spotlights. He’d picked up his suit case in the process of helping you, and it swung at his side, his other arm looped around your waist. Even in heels he towers over you. When the cold air hits your face, you realise he is not, in fact, leading you to the bathroom. You open your mouth to say something, but find that the words die in your throat. Your face feels entirely numb and your feet begin to drag behind you. He makes a small noise of frustration as he lifts you up, hooking a hand beneath your arm to hold you higher off the ground.

Your vision grows blurrier once he opens a car door and sets you down inside, sliding in beside you. Then, you finally black out.

-

“Ah, there you are.” He says, a towering shadow standing before you. “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”

You blink your eyes open. Instantly, your head begins to pound and you groan at the pain. Your neck falls back against something solid, and you slowly glance around to find that your limbs are bound to some sort of chair. Your wrists are pulled behind your back as well as your feet, tied to either leg with thick cord. Memories of earlier that night fly past your eyes in an instant as you struggle against the binding. But the more you pull, the more it hurts, and he seems to enjoy this fact. You squint up at him to see his face a mask of utter satisfaction, clearly proud of his handiwork.

His empty, dead eyes, black despite the vibrancy of the lighting. His thick, rough fingers curled around your wrist. You taking a deep swig of whatever drink he had gotten you. And the sound of a car door slamming. Then nothing. He’d kidnapped you. He’d spiked your drink and fucking kidnapped you and now you were going to die here, in this dark apartment and left for dead. You were just another one of those sad murdered girls that die and end up on a podcast a decade later.

“Don’t squirm,” he says, moving to stand before you. You crane your neck to look up at him. Half of his face is shrouded in darkness, the other glowing from the dim red lighting of his apartment. Atmospheric.

“What the-“ you try to get a sense of your surroundings, but the after effects of the alcohol and whatever he had drugged you with made it difficult. Everything feels hazy and undefined. Aside from him. His figure is perfectly distinguishable. You recognise his same suit from earlier: jet black, and he must have fixed his hair, too.

“You’re quite small,” he says, watching you, amused, “I probably gave you too much. Took you a long while to wake up.”

You try to scream. Your voice wavers, a pathetic noise escaping. He chuckles darkly at your weak attempt.

“There’s really no point. No one can hear you.” His black eyes glitter as he says it. God. You’ve been kidnapped by a fucking sadist.

You try again but exhaustion overwhelms you. Your eyes fall to the window, which spans from floor to ceiling. The nighttime Seoul skyline stretches across - you’re in a high rise, presumably a penthouse. Is it his apartment? The air feels hot and close, even more so when you meet his eyes.

“We’re going to play a game,” he says. Your head whips around at the statement. A game?He doesn’t even have the mercy to make it quick.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he lifts his briefcase onto the low table before you, then clicks the latches and opens it slowly, as though savouring the moment. His every movement makes your skin prickle with uncertainty - everything about him is unpredictable. Bile rises in your throat once you see what sits inside the case. A gun.

“Russian roulette,” he takes it out carefully with two hands, the same way you would hold a precious gemstone. The steel barrel glints in the light like a winking eye.

“Oh god,” you whisper beneath your breath.

“You have heard of it. Good,” he smiles at you emptily, curling his fingers around the grip.

“Of course I have,” you say quietly.

“Then you know the rules,” he moves to sit in a chair opposite you, neatly two feet away. The table separates you, but it is low enough that he’s able to get a full view of you. His eyes rake you from head to toe, landing on the hem of your dress. It rides up slightly, but you’re unable to fix it with your hands bound. You try your best to squeeze your legs together and hide yourself.

He turns the case and lifts out a single bullet, slotting it into the barrel. Your gut twists with fear as he spins the barrel and clicks it in with a flourish that is sickeningly attractive. Everything about him is a juxtaposition. His clean suits that fit his frame perfectly, yet are eerily formal for every occasion. His hollow eyes that chill your bones but also draw you in with an odd curiosity you can’t resist. Every aspect of him leaves you wanting more. But you can’t think this way about him, can you? Not when he is so clearly dying to hurt you.

He leans forward, the gun hanging from his hand. “Your odds of survival are five in six. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to- are you some sort of serial killer?” You gasp helplessly.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m a man of business.”

“And your business is murder?” You add sarcastically, watching his face closely.

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You’re different. Most people would be begging for their life by now.”

“I’m obviously going to die here. What’s the point in begging?” The words are empty as you say them. You’d already accepted your fate by this point.

His eyes glitter. “Maybe you should beg.”

You press your lips together. The prospect is tempting. “Did you still kill those other people? Even though they begged?”

“Now, now,” he twists the gun, watching his own reflection in the metal, “that would spoil the surprise.”

You don’t respond.

“Besides,” his teeth flash as he speaks, perfectly straight, “as I said, five in six. It’s more of a chance than I gave the ‘others’.”

The high odds must mean he’s holding out for you beg. For him. For your life. You watch, sickened, as he sets the gun on the table and places a large hand over it. “Now to decide who goes first.”

Your throat tightens when he grips the barrel and spins the gun on the table like a children’s toy. The sound of the metal on the glass surface sends needles over your skin. The sound of death being delivered. Round and round. Round and round. He watches it with a terrifying anticipation. The corners of his mouth curl upward, the smile finally reaching his eyes, which sparkle manically, following the gun’s movement. It slows to a halt. And It’s facing you.

You slump in your chair. He slowly looks up at you, unmistakably eager to see you squirm. But you don’t. You watch him with a steely gaze as he picks it up and points the barrel to your forehead.

“You first,” his voice sounds different. Finally, the reality of his nature seeps through. This is the real him.

“Just do it,” you mumbled, looking at your feet.

He leans towards you across the table. You glance up to watch the movement, then freeze. Utter terror jolts through you. Then something else. This is a different man.

“Are you scared?” He says so quietly you almost don’t hear it. He leans closer. And closer. The gun forms a barrier between the two of you, and you watch it steadily until it is barely millimetres from your forehead.

“I said,” you wince as you feel the heat of his breath on your face, “are you scared?”

The truth? Or not? “Yes,” you whisper, meeting his eyes. Something you can only describe as lust shines in them. God.

“You’re crying,” he says breathily. You flinch as he moves the tip of the gun, flicking away a tear on your cheekbone with it. You shiver when the cold metal meets your skin.

“Are you going to do it, or what?” You say distantly.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” his voice is almost a growl.

You debate satisfying his clear desire. Would he be merciful if you did? “Scared.” You whisper breathlessly.

He nods once. “Carry on.”

“I don’t-“

“Scared of me? Or this,” he traces the muzzle of the gun across your face, making you twitch with every movement. Tears begin to fall, thicker this time, and you fight back sobs that threaten to escape.

“Of you,” you say breathlessly. He exhales at the words, his mouth opening slightly.

“Really?” His eyes shimmer, then he pauses, bringing the gun to the center of your forehead once again.

You hold your breath, anticipating his finger pulling the trigger. Would you feel anything if it fired? He presses it down as slowly as possible, then - click. Nothing. You collapse back into your chair, chest heaving with the release of your bated breath. He leans back again, clearing his throat and adjusting himself in his chair. You don’t watch him, but you hear the click of the chamber and know that it’s his turn.

“See? Nothing to be scared of,” he says it with a cat-like smile, though you know the words hold no sympathy for you. He brings the gun to the side of his temple, his eyes never leaving yours. A strand of hair has escaped and hangs over his terrifyingly handsome features. A part of you wants to play into this fantasy - squirm around and scream for him. That part almost takes over when you see his mouth curve into a smirk as he presses the trigger down. And nothing. His self-assurance is painfully appealing.

“This is going well, isn’t it?” He stands up this time, stepping around the table and towards you.

“Please,” you can’t help the tears from falling this time, “no more, I’ll do anything. Anything.”

He tilts his head, pouting at you. “Now you decide to beg? It’s too late for that I’m afraid, sweetheart.”

The muzzle grazes the edge of your lips, cool but strangely relieving. At least it isn’t his lips. Kissing him would feel like sealing your fate.

Your eyes widen when you realise. “But you didn’t spin the barrel!”

He doesn’t stir at your realisation. “Makes the game more interesting, don’t you think?”

You tug against the cable at your wrists, not even caring about the pain of it scraping your skin. You feel small and pitiable beneath him, but you still struggle in your seat despite the futility. He just watches you squirm, the gun dangling from his hand, not even a smile on his face. You strain your voice to scream, and this time the noise carries. He tilts his head at you.

“Scream like that again and I might have to cover your mouth,” he bends down to be level with your eyes.

You open your mouth again to scream, but he grabs your chin, forcing it to stay open. You gasp at the forcefulness of his grip, and he parts his own lips. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly as the gun enters your line of sight. Teasingly, he brings it closer to your face, then slips it into your mouth. Your breath catches at how cold it feels against your tongue.

“Hmm,” he watches you curl the tip of your tongue over the muzzle, his fingers pressing tighter against your skin.

Something compels you to move, so you do. You lean forward, taking it deeper into your mouth until you feel the muzzle graze the back of your throat. You fight the urge to choke. A single tear falls from your eye, left over from your last outburst, and lands on his hand. His smile suddenly falls and something dark descends over him. He presses the trigger with no warning.

You cry out and he pulls the gun swiftly from your mouth, a string of saliva still connected. He examines the dampness that your mouth has left on the steel and inhales deeply, as if composing himself.

“That’s not fair,” you gasp, your hair falling around you as you lean forward.

He grabs a fistful of the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. He bends down to meet your eyes as he pulls your hair harder, making you yelp. “What isn’t fair, hm?” He prompts you to speak, though your heart beats so erratically you aren’t sure you can respond.

“Don’t feel like talking? That’s alright,” he brings the gun back into your eye line, but you squeeze your eyes shut, rejecting him.

He makes a frustrated noise in his throat. Then, suddenly, he forces you back against your chair, taking a hold of your throat. You choke as he presses tighter against your windpipe, forcing the air out of you until tears stream from your eyes. He takes the tears as an indication to loosen his grip, and you take in lungfuls of air when he does. He never lets go, though, keeping you flat against the chair and completely in control.

Your chest is open for him as he traces the muzzle from your neck to collarbone, ghosting over the protruding bones. You whimper slightly as he moves it even lower, the icy metal a shock against the curve of your breast. The dress you decided to wear earlier feels like a foolish decision now. The thin material is the only barrier that holds your dignity in place.

You are acutely aware of his movements. He watches the muzzle slide against your skin, making a noise almost like a purr when you react. He swallows when it runs over the bump of your nipple and you arch your back in response.

“You seemed so innocent back in that bar,” he says huskily, eyes flicking up to watch you. He continues running the gun over your nipple, the movements slow and torturous. “But you’re not anymore, are you?”

You don’t respond, too focused on the things that he is doing to you. This is his torture. He makes it so you can barely find the words to speak, then punishes you when you don’t.

He draws a cool, straight line to the flat of your lower stomach, then toward the hem of your dress. He lifts it ever so slightly with the tip of the muzzle and looks up at you. “If you’re going to beg, do it now.” The words are commanding, barely a suggestion. You watch as he pulls off his blazer, revealing his shirt which strains over his chest. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms, and you catch sight of roping veins bulging from his skin. Your skin prickles with anticipation.

“Please,” you gasp, barely registering the words, “please don’t. Please. I’m begging you. I’m begging.”

You nearly scream when he bends down and pulls your legs open with one hand. You struggle more against your bindings, rejecting his advances. He doesn’t stop. You whimper as he rips your underwear down to your ankles. Then, abruptly, he forces the gun inside you. You let out a strangled noise.

“Look at that,” he says, voice deeply amused, “already wet. Who would’ve guessed you were such a whore?”

You cry out at the feeling of the gun stretching you uncomfortably wide. He tuts arrogantly, pushing it in deeper until you arch against it. Then, he pulls it out and stands up, letting go of your throat. You gasp with relief, chest heaving, and he examines the gun in the low light. Your arousal paints it, making the metal glisten.

He moves closer to you, the plane of his hips obstructing your vision. A clear boner strains against the fabric of his trousers. You collapse in your chair hopelessly, the shock of the gun entering you still present in your mind. He grabs your jaw again, pulling your mouth open.

“Taste it,” his voice is empty. Lust clouds his eyes, a dark mist. More hair has escaped, hanging over his forehead, and sweat glistens on his brow. His dress shirt has been disturbed in all his vigorous movement. His tie lays off centre and slightly looser than before.

Obediently, you stick out your tongue, running it over the barrel. But you barely taste anything. The room spins around you like a carousel and your head feels light. It must be the adrenaline.

“Good girl,” his voice is deep and breathy. His chin inclines as he observes your tongue taking in your own arousal.

You hardly register it as he bends back down to one knee. Then, all at once, your senses return to you. He ghosts the gun over the hard bump of your clit, forcing a strangled noise to escape from your throat.

“There you are,” he hums, satisfied.

You can feel the wetness practically dripping out of you. He slips his index finger inside, almost experimentally, curling his finger. It enters too easily, so he pushes in his middle finger, and you gasp at the intrusion. He’s stretching you wider than the gun now - and he knows it. You’re still aware of the gun pressed against your clit, a cold, hard pressure that raises goosebumps on your skin.

Floaters dance past your vision. You let your neck fall back over the chair, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling. Your heart hammers harder with every pull of his fingers. You hear him make small satisfied hums at the wet sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and uncurling. You feel heat pool in your stomach. You’re close, but he shows no mercy, still fingering you with ever-mounting speed. Then, he pulls out his fingers once more and swiftly replaces them with the gun.

“We’re two shots down,” he says feverishly, “what if I pulled the trigger now?”

He looks up at you to watch your expression. You open your mouth to beg for your life, but find that the words die in your mouth. He picks up speed, the gun reaching a spot inside you that makes your toes curl. The possibility that he could easily kill you now seems to make your orgasm arrive even more intensely. You hear him grunt as he pulses in and out, faster, faster-

You collapse in your chair. The release is gratifying, yet humbling. The reality of your situation dawns on you as the pressure leaves your gut, and he pulls the gun out. He stands to his full height, the shadow of his figure being cast over you. His boner strains even harder against his trousers, a clear outline now. He sets the gun on the table behind him and adjusts himself, clearing his throat and wiping his hands on his thighs.

You aren’t sure if you have an ounce of self preservation left inside you. He knows this, and revels in it. The room stops spinning, coming to a still and finally grounding you. The light reveals his whole face as he leans over you and tucks the hair behind your ears with both hands. The gesture is almost too affectionate that it feels pretend. You aren’t sure that he is capable of aftercare.

“Well done,” he says, though you don’t feel like you’ve done a good job at all. He used you, and somehow, you let him.

You can’t find any words to reply with. He leans closer, eyes on your lips, his mouth parted slightly. His breath warms your face. You suck in air as he grazes two fingers over the wetness between your legs in a final gesture. He slowly pulls your underwear back over you in a strangely gentlemanly manner. You frantically search his face as the realisation that you didn’t actually die descends over you. He let you live. Why?

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a while,” he chuckles, lips still millimetres from yours. He presses his middle and ring finger to your mouth and you taste the saltiness of his skin. Then he pulls away. Strangely, you lean forward, wanting more of him. But he doesn’t fulfill your wish. He turns his back to you and leans over the case, which is still open on the table. You crane your neck to try and catch a glimpse of what he’s doing but his back is too wide for you to see.

Then he turns to you, his previous empty smile back on his face. The pleasure you just felt is quickly replaced by fear. He stands over you once again and slips a square of card inside your dress and into the cup of your bra. You make a curious noise, attempting to move your arm and then stopping when you remember that you’re still bound to the chair. Finally, he makes an apologetic face, before slipping the needle into your skin.

Oh.

—

You wake up in your bedroom, curled up on your bed wearing last night’s clothes. The strap of your dress hangs off your shoulder, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder. You shiver. Was it really all a dream? How much did you drink last night? You have no memory of coming back to your flat. No memory of falling asleep. Only the memory of him - his perfect face, glistening with sweat and his fingers wet with your arousal. You feel sickened with yourself that you could conjure up such a dream.

Then, you sit up. Something falls from the front of your dress and flutters onto the bedding. A square of brown card. You pick it up, squinting closely to examine it. A number, written in thick black type. Your heart skips. It couldn’t have been a dream. It couldn’t. You remembered him slipping a piece of card into your bra. Where else would you have gotten this from?

Something compels you to pick up your phone. Something wrong. Something not like yourself at all. That night, what he did to you, flipped a switch inside you. That same part of you types in the number. Presses dial. Waits to hear it ring. Once. Twice.

“Hello?” You say, too eagerly. The line is silent.

Then, a voice. Painfully familiar. He pauses, then speaks: “This Friday. Ten. Be ready.”

He hangs up. You were ready before he picked up the phone.

[velvetwyrme]

which deception would have an sti AND fuck cars?

in reference to: https://www.tumblr.com/penny-anna/767952128217104384/imagine-youre-a-mechanic-in-the-transformers?source=share

okay. so. first off. anon, thank you for sending me this because the idea that you read that post and just went- "hey, you know who i should pose this question to?" and sent it to me- is hysterical and i lvoe u.

anyway theres also a Texty answer under the cut if you want to read that, because i genuinely DO have thoughts about this, but i wanted to draw that comic because this ask made me laugh very hard when i saw it in my inbox.

also, the thrilling conclusion of the comic answer:

he fucked that car!!!!!!!

hi! Texty time. I think a lot of them would have/be one but not the other (either has a STI or is a Carfucker) but i included some of those here anyway because i think my thought process was funny for some of them. this is all purely my own opinions etc. etc. no basis for anything only vibes. i went through a lot of options and came to a lot of conclusions.

to reiterate the Chart for claritys sake:

Soundwave: No STI and no Carfucking. This is true across all versions of Soundwave imo. Rumble and Frenzy are a solid no on the STI front and a solid yes on the Carfucking.

Starscream: no STI, no Carfucking (despite what Soundwave thinks). TFP!Starscream specifically might have an STI though. Sorry man. Skywarp definitely has/had a STI but gets it treated on account of his trinemates. No Carfucking. Thundercracker would fuck a car but doesn't have an STI.

Shockwave: ??? - I'm not sure I want to know. "Once, as part of an experiment" was the original thing I wrote for his answer lol. True across continuities as well.

Anyway. moving on...

My actual answer for Megatron: REALLY depends on continuity. Here's a sample:

G1? Yeah, probably both. I can see it.

IDW/MTMTE? Nah. Maybe? ... Nah. I feel like if he had an STI it'd have been back when he was a miner. Would not fuck a car.

Earthspark? I feel like no STI but yes to the Carfucking. Except he feels really guilty about it after. I still haven't watched ES but this is the impression I get from him.

TFA? oh god. i don't know... i don't know....... he probably fucks cars. No STI.

TFP? Yeah absolutely are u kidding me? Yes to both.

Constructicons: I feel like they'd be a yes to both, but not at the same time, so they wouldn't have been the one/s to transmit a STI to a car. Also Hook would be ON TOP of treatment. Once they ALL got infected after combining into Devastator, and that was miserable for everyone. Nobody has fessed up to being the one who had it in the first place, but now they have treatment on hand just in case.

Also while on the topic of combiners... I think some of the Stunticons are also pretty good candidates for STI/Carfucking. Motormaster, Drag Strip and Wildrider in particular shfkgbekfbk

I considered Tarn/The DJD and Overlord just because of how freaky them guys can get, but I think Tarn runs too tight a ship for that to happen, and Overlord is preoccupied with. worse things. The Scavengers on the other hand... sorry to Misfire, I can see him giving a car a STI. Relatedly, Grimlock would fuck a car but not have an STI.

Who else................................ wait.

Astrotrain. I can see it. Okay bye im going to sleep this took me too long to reply to fhfjfbrmfbdj

[dixonsfawn]

── .✦ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐏 ┆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; your relationship with daryl only deepens when he reaches an all new level of vulnerability with you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; daryl dixon x girlfriend!reader, established relationship, fluff + angst, mentions of scars.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.3k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; i’m obsessed with daryl and his scars and the idea of him opening up about them <3

daryl’s eyes stay locked on you as he slowly shrugged off his shirt, the scars and markings on his olive-toned skin now fully visible in the dimly lit room. large jagged lines of damaged tissue stretched along his back, some old and overlapping, while others were newer and more defined. each one told a story of the battles he had survived. the pain he had endured. every one of them making him the man you had grown to love.

you knew daryl had scars, just as you all did, but you had only ever glimpsed his before in passing - an accidental run-in while he was changing - but this was different. this was deliberate, a conscious choice he was making to bare not just his skin, but a part of himself that he typically kept hidden. the act alone spoke volumes about the growing trust he had implemented in you. no matter how hard he tried to remain his usual stoicism and keep you at arms length, you had weaselled your way into his heart, and there was no turning back now. 

“i told ya, they ain’t pretty,” his voice is low and rough as he spoke, a hint of insecurity in his guarded gaze.

“no, they aren’t,” you say softly, agreeing with his comment as you slowly and cautiously step towards him. “but they’re a part of you, of who you are, and i think you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever met.”

daryl’s body tensed slightly as your fingers gingerly touch one of his larger scars, the rough callused skin shifting beneath your light touch. his breath hitched for a moment, his gaze locked on you through the mirror before him, watching every movement closely. 

no one had ever touched his scars before, not like this, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he stayed still, letting you explore the map of his history etched deep into his flesh. it was like electric jolts through his system, the way your soft touch sent a shiver across his skin under your fingertips. no one had ever touched him with such tenderness, especially not his scars. the air around them seemed to crackle with tension as he gazed down at you, the weight of your words and touch hitting him deep in his heart. 

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper, “ain’t nobody ever called me ‘beautiful’ before.”

“... you are.” 

a soft whale escapes his lips as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him back into the comfort of your soft embrace. the feel of your body against his back shoots sparks through his core, and he subconsciously leans into your touch, craving more of the soothing warmth. 

he feels your lips graze his shoulder blade, the tenderness of a kiss sending a shiver down his spine. the gesture almost undoes him as you nuzzle into him and he lets out a low, shaky breath.

“do you not think you are?” you ask. 

he hesitates for a moment, his rugged features etched with a mix of vulnerability and self-doubt as he struggles with the unfamiliar praise. 

“dunno,” he mutters, voice gruff. “never thought of myself as beautiful, just a tough old redneck who’s been in a few fights.” 

he glances over his shoulder at you, dark eyes assessing, waiting for your reaction. the walls he had built up over years of pain and rejection are starting to show cracks, revealing the deeply insecure man underneath. the man that very few people got to see.

“that may be who you think you are, but that doesn’t mean it’s all that you are.”

his gaze locks onto yours, raw and exposed. he’s not used to having someone see him, not just the scars on his body, but the scars of his soul. his throat feels tight, but he manages a raspy reply.

“yeah?” he cocks his head slightly, his usual gruffness undercut with a hint of vulnerability he can’t quite hide. not with you. “what else am i then?”

with each word you speak, you press a kiss to his back, “you’re a strong… courageous… loyal… caring… stubborn…misguided…gentle…man, who deserves far more than this world can offer him.” 

with each word and each kiss, daryl feels a wave of emotion well up within him, his defences slowly crumbling. the way you speak about him, your words dripping with genuine sincerity, stirs something deep inside of him. it’s almost too much, and he has to resist the urge to pull you into his arms. 

he huffs out a wry, amused laugh when you call him stubborn, “and i’m just supposed to believe all that?”

“like i said… stubborn.” you press one more kiss to his back, smiling into it. 

daryl can’t help but let out a husky chuckle as your lips press into his back once more. his head dips down, trying to hide the slight blush that creeps across his cheeks at your teasing. 

“yeah, guess you’re right on that one,” he mutters, grudgingly admitting defeat. he then glances over his shoulder, his gruff exterior crumbling a little more. “you forgot somethin’ though.”

your eyes narrow playfully as he now turns to face you. his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you against his muscular frame in a gesture that’s both tender and possessive at the same time. his dark eyes are intense as they look down at you, searching yours for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. 

when he speaks, his voice is softer than usual, and there’s a slight nervous twinge to his tone, “you forgot to say i’m yours.”

you smile, leaning up to kiss him but stop just before you do, your lips barely brushing against his, “that’s just a known fact, sweetheart.”

the closeness of your lips against his was enough to make sparks dance under his skin. but your coy response, that hint of a tease in your voice, does him in, and he’s powerless against the magnetic pull between you both. when you finally close the distance and kiss him, he responds almost immediately, the kiss deep and intense right from the start. 

his arms tighten around your waist, his hands splaying across your lower back to pull you even closer, eliminating any space between you. his lips move against yours in a desperate dance, a silent affirmation of what you both already knew. 

when you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding as if it wants to leap out of his chest. he gazes down at you, a mix of awe and wonder in his eyes as he takes in the vision of you, your swollen lips and flushed cheeks. he looks almost dazed, as if he’s trying to process the fact that you, a creature of such beauty and kindness, exists in his crazy, unnatural life.

a small, disbelieving chuckle escapes him as he speaks, “the hell’d i do to deserve you?”

“everything. you did everything to deserve me.” you reassure him, his heart swelling in his chest as you do. 

he lets out a shaky exhale as you kiss him again, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go for even a second. 

when he speaks again, his voice is low, rough around the edges with unguarded emotion, “don’t you ever leave me.”

“even if i did, i know you’d find me,” you run a hand through his hair, an adoring smile on your face as his eyes flutter shut at the touch. he lets out a low hum, the corners of his mouth curving up into a rare smile. 

he opens his eyes to look at you again, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and determination, “i’d tear this whole world apart to find ya if i had to.”

“and i’d be waiting for you.”